#my non existent fingers slipped

[d1tz]

Hello, neighbour! Ya like jazz?

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[fxstpace]

oh, snap!

summary: you and jake sim might have been best friends once upon a time, but not anymore. now, you barely talk to each other—so you decide to prove the universe wrong when you find out that he’s your soulmate, because there’s no way both of you are compatible.

⇢ pairing: jake sim x fem!reader ⇢ genres: fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers au, soulmate au, college au ⇢ word count: 7.0k ⇢ warnings: profanity, alcohol consumption, sexual jokes, soulmate lore i made up ⇢ a/n: this is a fic i had posted on my now deactivated blog, which i’ve made minor modifications to. thanks for reading!

The universe has to be fucking with you.

You aren’t one to believe in manifestation or the law of attraction or whatever other nonsense your TikTok feed provides you with. You think it’s a total waste of time, energy, and resources. 

Right now, however, you’re manifesting with all your might—eyes screwed tightly shut, hands clasped in front of your chest, only one thought running through your head: Please don’t let it be Jake Sim, please don’t let it be Jake Sim, please don’t let it be—

You open one eye cautiously. You lift up the pinkie finger of your right hand equally carefully. 

Fuck.

You drop your hands and let your head fall onto the desk in front of you. A dull thud echoes around you, and normally, you would be apologetic since you’re at the library, but because you’re wallowing in self-pity you can’t bring yourself to care. A frown mars your forehead. Maybe you’re manifesting wrong. Is that even a thing? Perhaps you should ask your friend Yizhou how to do it; she’s pretty popular on Instagram so surely she’d have some idea. Maybe one of her fellow influencer friends is a manifester. (Is that what they call it?)

You lift your head up and stare morosely at the red thread twined around your little finger. It winds down the floor, swirling and looping in gentle curves. You glare at the person it’s connected to.

Jake Sim, that little piece of shit.

The object of your disdain is seated one table away from yours. He’s hunched over his laptop, occasionally scribbling something into the messy notebook in front of him. His glasses keep slipping down the bridge of his nose, and every time he pushes them back up, you feel a tug on your finger. 

This brings you to the following question: Does he not know you’re his soulmate?

You have three answers. One: He knows, but he doesn’t care. Two: He doesn’t know. Three: He doesn’t care.

The second option is rare but not unheard of. There have been several cases where people vehemently deny the existence of soulmates and refuse to believe in it. Such people never get to see the red thread that is wrapped around their finger, even though it exists. Truthfully, you feel bad for the people on the other side of the thread—the non-believer’s alleged soulmate. They will forever watch from afar, never going too close, but never straying away either. It sounds lonely, more than anything else. 

You push that thought away. If Jake doesn’t know, it should be a good thing, right? You don’t need a soulmate to survive. You can just continue with your life as it is—attending classes, hanging out with your friends… Yeah, you’re happy with everything you have.

Another tug at your pinkie forces out an annoyed huff from your mouth. You glare at the perpetrator, still engrossed in his work. To be fair, you didn’t know Jake was your soulmate until very recently either. You knew the thread existed but didn’t know who it was connected to. When you were younger, you and your friends would have tons of fun pulling at the thread to annoy your unknown soulmate. Getting a pull back was a source of glee for seven-year-old you. Now, it just fills you with dread.

“Oi.” Someone’s breath tickles your ear.

“Fucking hell!” 

You swat at your best friend’s face, successfully smacking his cheek. Taehyun grunts in pain. “Uncalled for.”

“What the fuck, Taehyun?” You grouse. “Don’t scare me like that. Sorry ‘bout your cheek.”

The boy rolls his eyes, sitting down on the chair next to you and dumping his tote bag on the table. “I’d feel better if you actually meant your apology. Also, why aren’t you studying? Our midterms start in a week and staring at Lover Boy isn’t gonna help you pass your classes.”

“Don’t call him that,” you snap. “And I was… studying.”

“Right. That’s exactly why none of your books are open.”

“Shut up, people are staring.”

Taehyun raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment. You’re not wrong—people are staring. Well, specifically, one person. You flex your little finger a little, straightening it out and then bending it again. If Jake feels any sort of yank, he doesn’t show it. Not that you’re interested, of course. You’re just… observing. So is he, clearly. He peers over his glasses at you both, his expression not betraying anything.

You flinch when Taehyun pinches your side. Turning back to him, you’re ready to yell at him for being an annoying asshole, when he fixes you with a pitying sort of look. You swallow.

“Hey,” he says softly, “don’t overthink, okay? He’s alone right now, you might as well talk to him about this.”

You blink uneasily, eyes flitting between your friend and the unopened book in front of you.

“How long are you gonna avoid him? You’ve been hiding this for months. And… he has a right to know,” Taehyun finishes, flicking a strand of hair out of his eyes.

You swallow again, around the lump in your throat that’s been sitting there for months. You found out that Jake was your soulmate months ago. Yet, you can’t seem to bring yourself to confront him or tell him about it. A far cry from the whole entire concept of soulmates—isn’t he supposed to be your missing puzzle piece? Certainly not, if you’re too nervous to even approach him. The universe must have made a mistake. Whatever higher being exists must have assigned you to the wrong person.

Taehyun is right, though. (You’re not going to admit it to him, of course; there’s no need to boost his already inflated ego.)

Jake Sim does have a right to know that he’s your soulmate. 

You shift uncomfortably. Taehyun drops his gaze with a sigh. “I know you two have a history but can’t you just sort this out?”

“I… can’t,” you say lamely. 

Your best friend looks sadly at you. You look away, fidgeting with the cover of your textbook. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a girl make her way to Jake’s table. He perks up immediately, greeting her with a soft smile. She sits down next to him and grabs Jake’s laptop, angling it towards her like it’s second nature. It probably is, you think bitterly.

Another reason why you can’t tell Jake Sim about this whole Situation: He has a girlfriend.

Park Chaerin meets your eyes and waves at you cheerfully. You wave back, feeling sick to your stomach.

You press the tip of your pen into your notebook, fighting the urge to close your eyes. Even the half-empty cup of coffee next to your laptop has done little to wake you up. Morning classes are the bane of your existence, and as a night owl, you vehemently dislike getting up early. Your professor rattles on about an assignment due in a week. You stifle another yawn behind your hand.

Feeling a yank on your little finger, you press the palm of your hand on the desk and ignore it. Jake Sim is sitting right next to you—courtesy of both of you having arrived five minutes late, and the only seats left were in the last row. Your Friday 8 AM lecture on the Quantum Theory of Electromagnetism is normally interesting, but Professor Jang makes even the most stimulating topics seem dry. You usually end up resorting to self-study sessions in order to understand everything. 

Jake is scribbling something next to you. He’s probably doodling. He used to do that a lot when he was little, too. You recall pages upon pages of maths notes interspersed with tiny drawings of dinosaurs and dragons in the margins. They had made you laugh at the time. 

“Hey,” he whispers.

You blink.

“Hi,” you say.

Jake grins at you—and you’re dazzled, for a moment. It’s been so long since you’ve had that smile of his being directed at you. You’ve seen him smile at other people on campus—his new friends, his girlfriend, acquaintances—all from afar, and you push down the bitter sting of rejection that pricks you every time. After so many months, it feels like you were in a pitch-black room all this time, and someone suddenly turned on the lights. It’s blinding.

Your former friend caps his pen and leans back in his chair. “Did you get enough sleep?”

“Um, yeah,” you answer. Just to be polite, you add, “...Did you?”

“Kind of.” Jake winces.

“Oh.”

“I was trying to understand the topic before this. Y’know—” he meets your eyes expectantly— “the whole Kronig-Penney model and the Bloch function and all that. I spent, like, two hours on them,” he says sheepishly.

“Oh, uh, yeah, those are kinda difficult,” you offer.

You’re still perplexed by this whole situation. Admittedly, after weeks of minimal contact with your childhood best friend, this isn’t how you imagined your reunion would go. All awkwardness aside, however, it feels… nice, talking to him again. It’s hard to move past the last few months, but there’s nothing wrong with this, right? You can think of it as two classmates bonding over a hard course they willingly chose. Two classmates who’ve known each other since they were toddlers just learning to walk, but you deliberately don’t think of that.

Jake hums. “The graphs get super confusing.”

“I guess,” you say. 

He leans forward abruptly, elbows knocking on the edge of the desk. His stare on you is intent, focused. “Is your number still the same?”

You gape at him, mouth open like a blown-out fish. “Uh… yeah. Why?”

“So I can text you if I don’t understand anything,” Jake says simply, easily, still sporting that same easygoing smile of his. Your stomach twists into knots, and you force yourself to appear calm and not like your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

“I think you should’ve asked me first,” you manage to say.

He looks at you strangely, a dip in his eyebrows. “Why would I do that?”

Why, indeed.

Jake has known you for years; this is an undeniable fact. Even now, he probably knows you better than anyone else does—or ever could. So there’s absolutely no way he can’t make sense of the stifling awkwardness that surrounds you both.

However, the same holds true for you: You know Jake Sim just as well as he knows you. You know he’s trying to bridge a gap, make amends in a way only he does. You would be a fool if you didn’t take it in stride.

You crack a small smile. “Fair enough.”

He picks up his pen and twirls it between his fingers idly, before saying, “I’ll text you about other stuff, too.”

“Okay.”

“Great.”

Jake is all smiles and sunshine. He starts doodling again—what looks like a misshapen traffic cone of some sort. You look away, and tuck this little slice of goldenness into your rapidly rabbiting heart. 

This is not good. You pay no heed to the thread around your little finger, and pick up your own pen. Angling your notebook away from your deskmate, you begin to write.

REASONS WHY JAKE SIM CANNOT BE MY SOULMATE FUCK THIS SHIT IM OUT

#1. he doesn’t know you as well as he should (okay, maybe he does)

You have no clue how you ended up studying with Jake Sim and Park Chaerin, of all people.

Your own friends, Kang Taehyun and Kim Gaeul are utterly nonplussed at this new situation. You give them a helpless shrug when they elbow each other and raise their eyebrows at you. The library is fairly empty at this hour, which makes it an ideal time to study without the distractions of other people. Of course, you didn’t consider the two people who’ve decided you’re a physics expert and require your guidance.

You humour them because you’re a nice person—not because you’re weak to Jake’s entreaties and his offer of buying you food for a whole week.

Chaerin smiles at your friends. “Hey, guys! Come join us.”

Taehyun is the first to blink out of his confusion. He moves forward, pulling out the chair opposite yours and settling down. “Thanks. We won’t bother you guys much.”

Gaeul nods her head. “Yeah, I have a bunch of assignments to finish.” She chuckles nervously, smoothing out her hair.

“No problem,” Jake supplies. “Your friend is super smart.”

Taehyun raises his eyebrows, pointing an incredulous finger at you. “You mean…?”

“Hey!” You swing your leg and kick Taehyun’s shin from under the table. He winces in pain. Gaeul giggles, and so does Chaerin. Jake lets out an amused snort.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” you say, “this bit isn’t that important from a test point of view, so just go over it to get the general idea.” You mark the paragraph you were referring to with a pencil.

Chaerin and Jake nod in tandem, like a pair of bobbleheads. You bite your lip to stifle your smile—they’re so perfect together, it’s ridiculous. You wouldn’t be surprised if Jake’s end of the string was connected to Chaerin’s instead. Is that even possible? You’ll have to google it up.

The thought puts a significant damper on your mood, and you turn away, drawing back from the pair sitting next to you. 

Instead, you lock eyes with Taehyun, who’s glaring at you with enough intensity to drill a hole through your forehead. Talk to him, he mouths. You give him a small shake of your head.

You can’t talk to him about anything serious. Explaining physics to him and his girlfriend in the presence of your own best friends is a sort of safe zone; you don’t have to discuss anything personal whatsoever. All you have to do is prattle off a list of formulae and derivations and graphs, and hope that what you’re telling them to study is actually going to be asked on your midterm next week.

Taehyun rolls his eyes so hard, you wonder how they haven’t popped out of their sockets. He’s exasperated, you can tell—and Gaeul has probably been receiving the brunt of it all, because he would never outrightly say he’s upset with you. He would rant to Gaeul instead, trusting that she would tell you everything he told her but more nicely. That’s how your little trio circles back to each other.

You shift uncomfortably. Gaeul catches your eye and gives you a small, sympathetic smile. Your lips twitch upwards slightly.

“Wow,” Chaerin says, “I can’t believe we finished a whole unit in, like, one and a half hours.” She directs the next part to you. “You’re really smart. Don’t listen to Taehyun.”

“Y/N doesn’t listen to me anyway,” your friend grumbles. Gaeul hides her snort behind her styrofoam cup of coffee.

Speaking of which, you could really use some caffeine too. Anything to get away from Jake Sim and his quiet, knowing… aura, is the word you settle for. He wasn’t always this quiet—he used to be loud and raucous when it was just the two of you in high school—so while this new development isn’t surprising, it certainly is jarring.

“I’m going to get some coffee,” you announce to the table at large. “Anyone wanna come with?”

“I’ll come,” Jake says immediately. “I owe you for teaching us.”

“Oh, um.” You attempt to smile. “I—”

“Please go,” Taehyun says suddenly, his tone beseeching. “I need coffee too but I don’t trust Y/N to not put salt in mine or something.”

You gape at him, betrayal flooding your features. Gaeul snorts again. Chaerin just looks at you and Jake alternately. Jake’s lips twitch upwards. “Y/N still does that?”

You whirl around to face him. “What?”

“Oh, this is getting interesting,” Gaeul pipes up. “Do elaborate.”

“I second that,” Chaerin adds. 

You feel your cheeks and the back of your neck heat up. You want to implore your former best friend to keep his pretty mouth shut, but your ego doesn’t let you grovel in front of three other people. Jake raises his eyebrows, lips parting to form a small ‘o’. He smiles, a little bit sheepish. Before he can say anything, you intervene.

“That was one time, Taehyun!” you snap. “And it was by accident. Why would I willingly put salt in your coffee?”

Taehyun raises an eyebrow at you, but inside, you know he’s laughing uncontrollably at your predicament. “Who knows? You might wanna poison me for being cooler than you.”

“What is this, high school? And why the fuck would I want a murder on my hands? I’m too young to go to jail.”

Chaerin tries to muffle her giggles with her hand. Both you and Taehyun turn simultaneously to look at her. “Sorry.” She giggles again. “You two talk like an old married couple.”

“Gross,” you say, at the same time Taehyun draws out an, “Ew,” and extends the last syllable like a child in kindergarten.

“Oh my God,” Gaeul says. “Chaerin, you’re a genius. I see it too.”

“Not you too,” Taehyun groans.

The two begin bickering again, and Chaerin joins them with enthusiasm, adding her own little tidbits of support for Gaeul in between the conversation. During all this, Jake remains remarkably quiet, an amused smile tugging on his lips. 

You turn to him, a rush of sudden embarrassment making your cheeks heat up. It occurs to you that he’s never seen you like this—laughing and joking around with your friends. Friends that don’t include him. “Sorry,” you mumble. “Let’s go get coffee.”

“Okay.” 

You and Jake push your chairs back under the table and exit the library. The coffee shop is two storeys down, so you make a beeline for the staircase. Your former best friend follows you, his undone shoelaces slapping on the tiles. He still doesn’t tie his shoelaces properly, then. Perhaps he hasn’t changed as much as you thought.

“Hey, by the way,” he says, “I was gonna tell Taehyun about the time I put salt in your coffee.”

“...I know.” Your answer is short, clipped. You force your shoulders to relax—there’s no need to tense up when Jake Sim is around.

“Oh. Uh, okay then.” 

You don’t look at him, but you’re fairly certain he’s doing that thing he always does when he’s feeling awkward: A little rub of his thumb against the corner of his mouth. It’s a tic he’s always had, from the time you were in elementary school, and it isn’t any different now.

A stifling silence falls upon you both. You almost wish Taehyun and Gaeul were here, bringing Chaerin with them in tow. The three of them seemed to get along well; the chances of the five of you hanging out outside of college are high, now.

Of course, that also means you and Jake will have to pretend like everything’s alright between you both, and that your decades-long friendship wasn’t shattered by one single argument.

You round the corner to the staircase and begin the descent downwards. Jake holds onto the railing on the other side. Despite everything, you think Jake is the braver one between you two. 

He breaks the silence as easily as he broke your heart, and asks:

“Do you still take your macchiato with two packets of sugar?”

“Yeah,” you say softly.

#2. he wants to be friends again (why?)

You blame Kang Taehyun for this.

Of course he had to forget to pick up the pizza from the local restaurant before coming back to his place. Of course he didn’t check the weather forecast beforehand, and even if he did, of course he didn’t tell you it was going to rain. Of fucking course he asks you to pick up the food for him because your classes only ended at 4 and the get-together to celebrate the end of midterms was at 4:30.

If you had the power, you would curse your best friend to oblivion. You grip your phone in your hand, gritting your teeth and staring down at the screen.

Group Chat: the holy trinity of dumbasses 🤡 [16:12] You: it’s fukcing pouring here and i didnt bring my car [16:12] taehyun (mega asshole 🤬): *Fucking [16:13] You: yeah it’s something you’ve never done before [16:13] You: i have the pizza [16:13] You: come and pick me up or im throwing it in the dustbin. [16:14] gaeul 🤍: u shouldn’t waste food y/n >:( [16:14] taehyun (mega asshole 🤬): You’re making Gaeul cry >:( [16:14] gaeul 🤍: girl what [16:15] You: aw cute [16:15] You: seriously tho [16:16] You: come pick me up [16:17] taehyun (mega asshole 🤬): OK, I’m on my way [16:17] You: FUCKING FINALLY

The plastic bag with all the pizza boxes dangles off your wrist, cutting into your skin. The steps that lead to the inside of the restaurant are slick with rainwater. You open Instagram and scroll through your feed mindlessly, clicking on your classmates’ stories. 

You shiver. Rainy weather always makes the temperature drop by several degrees, and your flimsy jacket isn’t enough to drive away the chill. Forget Taehyun, maybe you should’ve checked the forecast instead. Sometimes (read: most of the time) you can be just as stupid as him. You wonder how Gaeul puts up with the single brain cell you and Taehyun toss between each other like a hot potato.

Honestly, you just want to go somewhere where it’s dry and warm.

Your phone vibrates in your hand, and it takes you a whole minute to comprehend the name that shows up on the caller ID.

Jake Sim.

Why is Jake Sim calling you?

You chew on your lip nervously before swiping your thumb up and accepting his call. Bringing your phone to your ear, you let the plastic bag sway gently. The line is silent for a few seconds, as though neither of you can comprehend the fact that you’re on a call with each other. It makes sense; this is the first time in months he’s calling you.

Finally, Jake’s voice crackles over the speaker. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“I’m outside. Can you see me?”

“I, uh.” You look around quickly. The parking lot in front of you is mostly empty, a good chunk of people having escaped the rain. It’s not hard to make out the solitary figure standing outside a beaten-down Toyota, holding an umbrella aloft. “Yeah, I see you.”

“Oh, good,” he says. “Do you have an umbrella?”

“Nope. Just… pizza.”

Jake makes a noise that sounds like a warbled chuckle. “Okay, I’m coming over there.”

“...Okay.”

For some strange reason, you don’t feel like ending the call. You fumble for something to say, because it’s weird just being on a call with someone you can literally see. The tug on your little finger as he comes closer to you makes a lump form in your throat. You take a deep breath and push it down into your stomach. 

“You haven’t changed your car,” you say lightly.

Jake hums, the sound so familiar it doesn’t even surprise you until you register it. “Can’t afford a new one. Plus, it works decently.”

He strides over to you, and it’s unnecessarily sexy—the way he holds the black umbrella up with one hand and his phone to his ear with the other. You can see the speckles of rain on his grey hoodie where the raindrops bounce off the ends of the umbrella. His hair is swept to the side, lips pink with chapstick. Another yank on your pinkie finger; you clench your fist.

“Please,” you snort. “The last time I was in it, it took twenty minutes to start the engine. That was a year ago, Jake.”

He’s closer now, nearing the steps. His eyes don’t leave yours. They trace over all your features, as though he’s committing you to memory—you, with your tangled hair and tired eye bags, chapped lips and dirty sneakers. You swallow.

He puts his phone down and speaks to you directly. “I think that was the driver’s fault. But don’t worry, I can drive better now.”

You let your hand drop limply to your side. 

“Hi,” Jake says.

“Hi again,” you manage to say.

“Here, let me take that.” He reaches out for the pizza bag, but you don’t give it to him.

“It’s fine. Just… hold up the umbrella and don’t get us wet.”

Jake laughs, a short, bright sound. “I won’t.”

You step towards him, quickly slipping underneath the shelter of the umbrella above your head. It’s a tight fit—one of your shoulders pokes out, as does one of his. You grimace when your sleeve gets splattered with rain.

Jake leads the way to his ancient car, scratched and scuffed with years of use. It was his dad’s old one, a gift for him on his seventeenth birthday, one that his mom had told you about to surprise him with. It seems like a bygone history now.

“I thought Taehyun was gonna come,” you comment.

Jake looks at you strangely. “I thought you asked for me to come pick you up.”

“I… did?” You gasp at the realisation. Kang Taehyun, that fucker. “I’m sorry,” you say awkwardly. “Taehyun probably told you that I was stuck in the rain.”

“He did,” Jake confirms. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. It’s not a problem at all.”

“Oh… okay, then.” Still, you feel guilty. Jake came all the way in the rain just because your best friend couldn’t stop being a meddling little nincompoop.

“Why wouldn’t I come?” Jake continues. His voice sounds deliberately casual. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“...Yeah. I guess.”

Jake stops near his car, fishing around in his pocket for the keys. “Look, I—I know things haven’t been the same lately, but I—” he licks his lips, another nervous tic of his— “I want you to know that I never stopped thinking of you as my best friend. Okay?”

You blink, sucking in a breath sharply. “I, um, yeah. Yeah, okay,” you say lamely.

Jake nods once, not meeting your eyes. “And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’ve found friends like Gaeul and Taehyun. They’re good people.”

“So is Chaerin,” you say. “And so is Sunghoon.”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling faintly, unlocking the door. “And so are you.”

Sometimes, you wonder if Jake also feels a pull on his little finger. If he does, does he ever wonder where it’s from? Or does he not feel it at all? You bend your finger and shuffle into the passenger side of his car. He closes the door for you before crossing over to the other side and climbing into the driver’s seat.

Whatever the case is, one thing is for sure: Jake Sim is your soulmate, and even if he wasn’t, you’d still be in love with him.

Just like you were one year ago.

#3. his parents adore you (and so do you, but there’s always the yearning and the aching)

“Hey, mom and dad are asking when you’re gonna visit again.”

Jake swings into your periphery, putting his phone back in his pocket. His mom had called about fifteen minutes ago to make plans for Jake to go home over the weekend. Potentially, you could also go—your childhood home is right next to his. It’s been a while since you last visited; your little sister sends you texts about how much she misses you.

He sits down on the chair next to yours, looking at you expectantly. You’re at your favourite spot in the library, one that’s been designated as you and your friends’ table. Jake and Chaerin have been officially integrated into your tiny trio; Gaeul and Chaerin get along really well, and Taehyun and Jake follow the same sports teams. Occasionally, their other friend, Park Sunghoon, joins you but he’s very quiet and mostly keeps to himself.

You don’t look up from your laptop screen when you answer, “I’m not sure.”

“Huh. Mom says you’ve said that to your mom every time she asks.”

Things between you and Jake have reached a semblance of normalcy, too. It’s not the same as it used to be—it can never be the same as it used to be—but at least the pang you feel in your chest whenever he talks to you has dulled somewhat. 

“I’ve been busy,” you say vaguely. 

“Oh, c’mon,” Jake retorts. “Our midterms were over a week ago. What’re you waiting for?”

You don’t reply. He waits for a moment before saying, “I could drive you.”

That gets your full attention. Your gaze snaps to him, mouth pressed together. 

“I mean, we literally live right next to each other, Y/N,” he continues. “It’ll save gas. And the environment.”

You snort. “Your car is more of a hazard to the environment than us not carpooling is.”

“You don’t know how to drive,” he deadpans.

“That’s not true! I can drive, I just choose not to. Saving the environment and all.” You point an accusing finger at him. “If you really care about the environment, you should take the bus home with me.”

Jake shrugs loosely. “I don’t care how we go home, as long as you come with me. I’m sure your sister misses you too.”

There it is again: That easy, light way he says things. Nonchalant and unaffected—though it affects you more than it should.

“You’ll pay for the tickets?” 

Jake’s grin is golden. “If that’s what it takes.”

That’s how you find yourself crammed in between Jake Sim and an old auntie with a flower-patterned bandana, on the bus back to your hometown three days later. The auntie gives you and Jake a few cookies she’d packed for her grandchildren, and then promptly falls asleep on your shoulder (Jake couldn’t stop laughing for ten minutes when he saw the line of drool she’d left on your shirt sleeve). He offers you his own shoulder in case you want to sleep too; your cheeks heat up at the thought. It’s a bumpy ride, but after stopping at the bus stop nearest to your house, Flower Auntie sends you off with a few more cookies and a box of homemade kimchi, and you and Jake begin walking back to your neighbourhood.

Some things have changed—the playground is being renovated, your old elementary school is being repainted, the Kims who owned the local ramen shop retired and set the place up for rent. But at its heart, it’s all the same, you think. Kids still run around holding warm bungeoppang from street stalls and cartons of strawberry milk from the convenience store. Their mothers sit around and gossip about celebrities and complain about their husbands. People working corporate jobs curse under their breaths about their bosses and their unforgiving schedules. It’s late in the evening when you arrive, a bag containing all of Flower Auntie’s goodies hanging off Jake’s arm. All the local eateries are opening up for the dinner rush, drawing people in with the offer of free beer and soju for every meal purchased. 

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Jake says, a fond smile on his lips.

“Yeah,” you agree softly.

Despite everything, it’s still home.

The two of you cross the streets to your houses, sneakers slapping against the pavement. Several neighbours who’ve seen you both grow up call out and wave hello. You’re stopped by Mrs. Lee’s son, Heeseung, who makes you both promise to go out for dinner with him tomorrow. 

Finally, you stand in front of your childhood home. The rusted door and peeling-off paint greets you like a best friend. You shoulder your backpack and ring the doorbell, saying goodbye to Jake as he walks into his own house.

The door swings open—only to reveal Mrs. Sim standing at your doorway. Before you can voice your confusion, she pulls you into a tight hug, mumbling your name into your hair.

“Welcome home,” she says, moving aside and letting you in. “Your mother is in the kitchen. She’s just started making dinner.”

“Oh, okay.” You grin. “It’s great to see you, Mrs. Sim.”

“I swear you love Y/N more than me.”

You turn around and see Jake standing by the door, an affectionate look in his eyes. You direct your grin at him, too.

“Suck it up, loser.”

Jake’s guffaw rings in your ears even when your sister screams with unabashed joy as soon as she sees you.

#4. he broke your heart once (he could do it again)

You stare at the red thread wrapped around your finger. It’s dulled a bit now, compared to how it was a few years ago. Some of its shine is lost; it looks more opaque now. You crook your finger experimentally, knowing it's futile but still holding on to some hope that maybe Jake will feel it too.

To live for the hope of it all, as a wise song-writer once penned.

You startle when Jake sets a mug of coffee in front of you. His house is empty—your mother and Mrs. Sim went to buy groceries together and his father is out of the city on a business trip. Your sister is hanging out with her friends but told you to call her if you needed anything.

“Here you go,” Jake says, sitting down on the chair next to you. “Have some and then we can go buy some hangover soup.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, curling your fingers around the mug and savouring its warmth. The liquid inside is not too bitter, but not too sweet either—just how you like it.

“Feeling any better?”

You wince. Going out for dinner with Heeseung meant drinks were also attached. Being back in your hometown after weeks meant you had to check out all your favourite restaurants again and visit the ones that popped up after you left for college. The result: You swallowed down entirely too much soju, Heeseung and Jake had to physically carry you home, your head is killing you right now, and your embarrassment is at its peak.

When you woke up in the early afternoon to texts from your family members detailing their various absences, you reluctantly made your way out of your bedroom and to the Sims’ place. 

Which brings you here, perched on a chair at the Sims’ dining table, fiddling with your red string of fate, while the object of your thoughts sits right next to you.

“Yeah, a little,” you murmur in response to his question.

“Good.” Jake stretches his arms above his head, exposing a sliver of his midriff. You swallow. “Your alcohol tolerance is still the same.”

“Yours isn’t any better,” you counter. “You didn’t drink more than one bottle of soju.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You were counting?”

You huff, ignoring the warmth that spreads to your cheeks. “That’s not the point.”

“I’m just joking,” he says, bringing his hands back down. “I was kinda surprised Heeseung has a girlfriend now.”

You hum, taking another sip of your drink. Your head still pounds, but the caffeine is kicking in and making you more lively. It is strange, though, seeing your childhood friend settle down. Judging by the way he talks about her, he’s completely smitten. She’s my soulmate, he had said, and I don’t even believe in my thread.

The memory makes hurt bubble up inside your throat, so you chug the remaining liquid in the mug.

“It’s nice, though,” Jake continues, something… wistful crossing his face. “I wish I had someone like that.”

You look away, staring down at the ring of coffee left on the wooden table from your mug. “Yeah, I guess… Aren’t you dating Chaerin, though?”

You bite the bullet—what’s the point, anyway? There’s no use in dragging it out. Not when he clearly doesn’t know that his soulmate is sitting right next to him. You can deal with the hurt that comes with rejection later.

Jake stills. You glance at him—he tilts his head confusedly. “Chaerin? No… What makes you think that?”

“Everyone said you guys were dating,” you say with a small, uncertain shrug. 

“I mean…” He blinks. “We hooked up once, but that’s really it.”

It’s your turn to blink now, bemused. “Huh?”

“Yeah, we were drunk and it just sorta happened? I dunno,” he says sheepishly. “We didn’t remember any of it later, so we just agreed to remain friends. Plus, her soulmate is Sunghoon.”

“Wait, what?” Your teeth worry your bottom lip. Your mind is swirling with questions—was it possible that you had misread Jake Sim all this time?

“Yeah,” he says softly. “It’s no big deal.”

“...Oh. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed things,” you apologise quietly. Despite all this, his words make a swell of optimism rise in your chest.

He shrugs. “I, uh, wouldn’t blame you. We didn’t talk much after… after everything.”

“Yeah.” Your admission is soft, regret burning a hole in your tongue.

“So, um…” Jake trails off, looking unsure of himself. That’s a first, you realise with a start. He’s usually so calm and collected, even in the worst times. “Do you still feel the same as you did a year ago?”

You suck in a breath. “Why—why would you ask me something like that?”

“I—just curious.”

His eyes land on yours, beseeching and glorious. Even when he’s just woken up, he looks like he’s been dipped in the sun’s golden rays. Your heart hammers inside your chest.

“Wait, can I ask you something else? Why… did you reject me that night?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you’re transported back to that fateful evening in July.

You stuttered the words out, and explained that you were in love with him, that you were pretty sure he was your soulmate, regardless of who your string was actually connected to. With every new sentence you tacked on, the emotion on Jake’s face vanished. Towards the end, you felt your face crumble.

He left you alone on the pavement, broken-hearted and lovesick.

Jake clears his throat awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off so harsh on you that day.”

“I don’t care about that, Jake,” you say simply. “I just want to know why.”

“Because I was stupid. I didn’t believe in the soulmate bullshit, but I know you do. You’ve always been a hopeless romantic. I—” He licks his lips before continuing— “The truth is, Y/N, I really, really like you… But I didn’t want to hold you back from finding your true soulmate—whoever was on the other side of your string—’cause I know they’re gonna be the one for you.”

If you weren’t sitting already, you’re sure Jake’s confession would have swept you off your feet and you would be a bumbling mess on his dining room floor. Seeing the forlorn look on his face, you nearly crumble. How stupid your soulmate is. How kind and caring and selfless. 

“So I rejected you. I thought I wouldn’t be able to make you happy.” He pauses for a moment, his voice dropping. “It’s still the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

You finally find your voice. “Jake…”

He laughs somberly. “You probably think I’m an asshole.”

“I could never think that,” you say firmly. Your hand finds his on the tabletop, and he laces your fingers together, staring at your connected palms with awe.

“I do think you’re a little bit dumb, because I’ve liked you too since, like, forever—”

“Define forever,” he interrupts, not unkindly.

“Well—maybe since the time you surprised me with all the physical copies of that book series I wanted for my fifteenth birthday?”

“Then,” he says, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand, “I’ve loved you since before forever.”

A surprised laugh bursts out of your mouth. You feel a tug on your little finger as Jake moves his hand away from yours and cups your cheek with it instead. “I’ve also wanted to kiss you since before forever.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, drawing closer to you.

You lean forward and capture his lips with yours, running your tongue along his bottom lip. He parts his mouth with a sigh, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. His other free hand comes to rest on the nape of your neck; you wind your arms around his neck. The position is a bit cumbersome—the edge of the chair digs into your thigh, and he nearly knocks his elbow on the back of his chair—but his touch is searing hot, the welcome kind, the kind that makes you crave more and more and more.

“You promise you won’t do it again?” you ask later, out of breath and flushed.

“I promise,” he says, and he links his pinkie finger with yours to seal the deal.

The thread tied around it glows golden.

#5. he doesn’t even believe in soulmates (but he’ll try)

“You can’t see it?”

“I’ve told you a million times already,” Jake says patiently, “but I can’t.”

“How?” You look at him dubiously. “It’s literally a glowing golden thread connecting you and me.”

“I don’t need a thread to connect us,” your boyfriend quips. “I can think of better uses for a rope.”

You make a sound of disgust. “We’re at the library.”

Jake Sim grins at you, all bright and shining and vivid. “So?”

Taehyun lets out a pointed cough, typing on his laptop. “There are other people here,” he says, motioning to Gaeul, Chaerin and Sunghoon. All three of them are very obviously avoiding your gaze. Even the tips of Taehyun’s ears are pink. You stifle a giggle.

“Sorry,” Jake says, not sounding sorry at all. He picks up your hand again, thumb brushing against the knuckle of your little finger, right above the knot where the golden string is tied. He whispers to you, next, “I just don’t believe in it.”

“I know,” you say. “But you’re missing out on a lot.”

Jake hums. “I don’t believe in soulmates. But I believe in you.”

You roll your eyes, ready to chew him out for being a sappy romantic again, when his next words make your heart stutter.

“I think that’s good enough for me.”

[servicpop]

you've got a fetish for my love gym rat satoru & suguru x bottom male reader

"That's wraps, let's go take a shower Suguru I'm sweaty as hell."

The weights nestled on the bar slinked off as Suguru placed them back on the rack. A few tiring hours of bench presses, deadlifts, and other workouts were done on repeat until the men eventually felt that ache in their muscles that told them to stop.

"Right, I think we're done for today," Suguru hummed, gripping his water bottle and taking a quick chug of water before chucking it into his gym bag, zipping it up and walking to the showers before Satoru could even get himself packed up. Suguru was first to enter, pushing the doors to the men's shower rooms aside to place his bag down at the bench.

Steam billowed through one of the open stalls but Suguru brushed it off, it was an ungodly hour to be at the gym currently. One downside about these gym stalls were that the doors were practically non-existant, replaced by a raggedy plastic curtain that swayed with every slight movement. Guess the gym splurged all their money on the equipment and fancy parts of the interior rather than the bathrooms.

Suguru's eyes flickered down to the unaccompanied bag at the corner of the bench. It was yours, he recognised it from the key chain you placed on the zips to identify your bag.

"Suguru why didn't you wait—" Satoru burst into the shower rooms, complaints already stringing out of his lips, "Look, Satoru," Suguru pointed out, pointing at your bag and to the stall that had steam coming out of it.

"Oh, well he can fit two right?" Satoru chuckled, his chest rising and falling from the laugh, "Well he has done it before." That earned a nudge to the head by Suguru — who clearly didn't appreciate the sexual innuendo. "Well, if you don't wanna join me, I'll be going first," Satoru shrugged, peeling off his black shirt that clung to his body from all the sweat, and his pants, tossing it aside before he brutally ripped the shower curtain aside.

You had just finished some light cardio, something to get your body energised and your dopamine levels running. You chose an early morning to go to the gym, wanting to avoid stripping naked infront of other buff and sweaty men and the sheer awkwardness of squeezing past boisterous conversations as you try to find yourself an empty stall.

You thought you were safe, but when are you really when Satoru Gojo is pursuing you? The shower curtain ripping open pulled a yelp from deep inside your heart, goosebumps covering your skin. When the familiar tuffs of white hair came into your view, there was only one person who would intrude on your space like this.

"Cmon 'Toru, you're gonna give this poor man a heart attack one day," Suguru sighed, appearing beside Satoru. Now both of the men were crowding your space, the water still cascading down your back. They were both glistening with sweat, the evidence of a hard workout there.

"Hey, why didn't you tell us you were at the gym today?" Satoru feigned a sad puppy-dog pout, his hands finding their way to where your waist met your hips. He squeezed the soft flesh there, humming contently; it was something he loved about you, your body was just right.

"Thought you guys were busy," You mumbled, your eyes tracing Suguru's calm movements as he slipped past Satoru and placed himself behind you, chest against your back. "Doesn't mean you can't shoot us a message," Suguru cooed, coiling his fingers in your hair as he pressed lightly against your lower back.

"I second that," Satoru chuckled, his fingers traced circles on your belly, "Since you won't workout with us in the gym... you can 'work out' with us in here," He grinned, leaning in to nip a kiss at your nose before his hands met your cock. Your whole body jolted at the sudden touch, and Suguru held your biceps, squeezing you slightly as a reassurance. You could feel Suguru's hands dip down to your ass, kneading the fat there before he spat on his own dick, rubbing it against your puckered hole to smear his make-shift lube.

"Ah, shit you make me so hard," Satoru grumbled, his pearly whites hooked on his baby pink lip, using his spare hand to jerk himself off while slipping his thumb over your tip. "This is kinda lewd, hey?" He groaned — a smirk plastered all over his face — "Both your boyfriends fucking you in the showers of a public gym." Satoru's fingers wrapped around himself and yours, bringing both your dicks together into his hand.

"We both know this is a sick fantasy of yours, 'Toru" Suguru retorted, slowly pushing himself into you with a low groan. His fingers twitched on your back, the pads of his fingers digging into your skin as he watched yourself stretch to accommodate for his size, "Shit, you really do know how to take us, huh?"

"W–wait," You gasped, your palms flushing against Satoru's chest, you couldn't tell if that was water on him or sweat. Satoru turned a blind ear to your pleas, rolling his hips against yours as he kept his fist clenched, forcing your cocks to grind together. The stimulation from the front and the back was enough to get your knees going limp.

"Don't give out on us yet, prince," Suguru cooed gently into your ear, nudging himself in just a little deeper before pulling all the way out and slamming back in. "Oh fuck," Suguru moaned, his thick fingers clawed at your hips. Like he got the sudden motivation seeing Suguru so drunk on your insides, Satoru sped up his hands, pumping the both of you. You could feel every twitch and vein bulging against your own length, he was close.

"Shitshitshitshit, I think I'm gonna cum," Satoru whined, thrusting up into his hand, chasing that sweet release, ""Gonna make a mess outta you," He sputtered, his hand squelched with every stroke. Suguru stayed quiet, but your ears were more trained to him. Every soft groan or stutter in breath from Suguru didn't go unnoticed, he was practically panting in your ear.

Stretching you out like you were elastic was something Suguru took pride in taking his time to do. He knew he found your sweet spot when your hips jerked, squirming in their shared grasp, "Stay still f'me," He whispered, linking his muscular forearm right underneath your chest.

It was all too much, your eyes flitted up to meet Satoru's blue ones, his white eyelashes covered most of the blue since he was so focused on your body and his mouth was agape, short breaths coming out. His once spiky hair was now down, stuck to his forehead from the mixture of sweat and water. Your brain alternated focus from the two men so quickly you found yourself in a daze trying to keep up.

"Hah, look at you, your face looks so fucked out," Satoru teased, leaning in to catch your tongue hanging from your mouth and pulled you in for a wet kiss. You felt his dick pulse a few times before he moaned into your mouth, shooting out a load onto your stomach while you followed closely after him. It was a mix of both your messes, "It's like making slime," Satoru laughed, carding his fingers through his hair.

"You're ruining the moment, Satoru," Suguru groaned at Satoru's childish behaviours — did this man ever grow up? "My bad, Sugu, want me to help you?" Satoru grinned, pulling your upper body towards him and planting your head onto his shoulder. He let your head rest in the crook of his collarbone before his arms reached down to your ass, spreading you apart for Suguru.

"Thanks," Suguru gruffly murmured. He bent down slight so he could reach even deeper, pistoning his hips against your ass. You cried out onto Satoru's shoulder, the knot growing in your stomach for a second time. "Good job baby, look you're taking Suguru's dick so well," Satoru whistled watching as Suguru's cock get enveloped by your hole.

"He's so tight I think I might snap in half," Suguru groaned, his hair falling off his shoulders and barley reached your back. Suguru hissed when you clenched down a bit more, your warm gummy walls milked his cock. "Take it all baby, you deserve it," He purred, burying himself to the hilt before je orgasmed, painting your insides with his semen.

Suguru's palm loosened on your hips, trailing down to your stomach and rubbed it gently, "Good boy." Satoru laughed, bringing his hands back up to ruffle your hair, "Enough cardio? Alright, let's get you actually cleaned up before you turn into a rasin from all the water."

a / n ; not proof read as always TT also my first time writing a threesome ! I left Satoru and Suguru's relationship open , I know some people are more into that love ... arrow ?

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 (𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐈 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖!!) ❞

❝ PROF. GETO IS SO HOT AND NOW HE’S YOUR HUSBAND!! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (extra credit fic for prof geto series) (can be read as a standalone!!)

✧ summary: you visit your family at home, spending the night in your childhood room, and after teasing suguru all morning, your husband decides he can't wait a moment longer to have you.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut , fluff, but also angst depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader was a grad student (now a professor), but age is vague, childhood room sex, semi-exhibitionism, fingering (f! receiving) sex (p in v), creampie, discussion of having kids, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, fanart by @ / polariae

✧ w/c: 2,395

“So this is your childhood room?” Suguru enters your room, glancing around, lips curling at the plushes and posters lining your shelves and walls, a collection of memories of a you he didn’t know, but one that grew into the person that he loved. He could see the pieces of you scattered about the room — and his eyes found the bookshelf tucked into the corner of the room. 

“Yeah we’ll be staying here during our visit,” you sigh, setting down your bag, before sitting on the edge of the bed, “they set up the air mattress for you but I think we can share my twin bed,” 

He tilted his head, “I suppose if I don’t mind curling up or letting my feet dangle,” and you press yourself to his side. 

“But it’s all worth it to have your wife by your side right?” His lips can’t help but curl widely at the title 

“I feel I have to remind you that you have been my wife for two years now and you can’t keep using that card,” and yet his arms slip around your middle, “but I can’t complain when I have such a pretty wife,” 

“Just pretty?” You’re climbing onto his lap, not missing the way his body tensed deliciously at your weight,  a slight pout on your lips, “come on, Professor, you can do better than that,” 

“You’re right,” his hand drag down your sides, squeezing at your hips, “beautiful,” he kisses the swell of your cheek, “ethereal,” his lips trail to the tip of your nose, “brilliant,” his lips chart a course down your jaw, “achingly desirable,” and you’re cupping his cheek. 

“Sure you’re not describing yourself?” And he’s snorting, right as you press a kiss to his lips, and you realize it’s been far too long since you’ve kissed him last, almost two hours in fact from the time the two of you had sat down to dinner with your family — and that was an eternity you didn’t want to relive. 

And neither did he from the way he kissed you again and again and again. 

“I’d never describe anyone but my wife like that,” he murmurs, “and how can you compare me, a mere human, to a goddess?” 

And your laugh is swallowed by his lips again, until he’s retreating his kisses down your jaw and neck, “and how do you plan to please your goddess?” 

His teeth graze the soft skin of your neck, drawing a small gasp from your lips, his fingers slipping under the t-shirt you had stolen from him this morning to wear on the ride over, “Oh the way I always do,” a rumble rasp of a voice that makes heat spread from his touch, “by worshiping every inch of her, offering my praises on my knees, and giving myself to her at the altar,” 

“We already had our business done at the altar,” and he laughs, shaking his head, fingers finding yours to lace with his. 

“Every day I’ll marry you over and over, Princess, if that means you’ll be mine,” 

“I think I was yours from the moment you told me I was late,” 

“If that means I was the object of your hatred,” and you chuckle, your other hand finding purchase on his shoulder, as you lean closer to him, noses bumping. 

“Well, some say hatred is a thin line to love,” 

“Then ours might as well have been non-existent,” and his lips find yours again, eroding your quick reply with the warmth of his touch flooding your every sense. Hands slide down your sides, squeezing teasingly, as his lips curl as he muffle your delightful noises, “because I think I was in love with you from the moment I saw you too,” he parts your lips only to speak, and to see the ruins he had left your perfect lips in, puffy and bitten red. 

“Even when I pestered you with questions about my papers,” he drags his thumb down your lips, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Especially then,” and it’s not a second before your lips find his again, sliding against his own, and he’s becoming unsatisfied with only your kisses, even he wants to have every inch of you — as he always does. 

He’s pressing you against your creaky mattress, springs groaning under your combined weight, and nearly screaming as the two of you shifted into place, “Sugu, we can’t,” you murmur, “someone could hear us,” 

And it was late at this point — a late dinner needed after they got in after 11:00 PM, and everyone had gone to bed, but still, the other rooms were only a door or two down. But still his lips are insistent, peppering kisses along your collarbone, as his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt. 

“We can be quiet,” he murmurs, in your ear, “I’ll go slow, no one will hear,” and he didn’t hide his need well, not that he was trying to — he had desperate for you since you had stolen that shirt of his, so much so that the two of you nearly ended up leaving late, since he had pinned you to the entryway wall right beside the door. You had convinced him to wait, slipping from his grasp, despite your already crumbling defenses to the hot embrace of his need. 

And you were far too gone by the dulcet words murmured in your ear, erasing all forms of logical thoughts from your brain, “fuck,” you murmur under your breath, “if we get caught—“ 

And his fingers are already slipping under your shirt, a gasp parting with lips as he finds bare skin underneath, warming you with his touch, as he rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, “what will happen if we get caught? Will you punish me sweetheart?” His words are hot against your skin, lips grazing the shell of your ear, before pressing a sweet kiss against the soft spot behind it, “I’d like that, so would it be much of a punishment at all?” And he squeezes at your soft flesh before dragging his hand downwards to the button of your jeans. 

“Sugu—“ you warn, and he’s undoing the button of your jeans deftly, tugging them down around your ankles, and it’s only a moment before his thumb teases you through your drenched fabric, “ngh, don’t tease me—“ 

“How can I not when it’s so easy to do, sweetheart?” And his other palm drags down your waist to the swell of your hip and tugs at the elastic of your lacy panties snapping it against your skin, another yelp escaping your lips, “you always make such pretty noises, wife,” and the term makes your cunt ache for him, and it doesn’t go unnoticed, lips pressed to your neck curling in a smirk, “like it when I call you my wife? Because you are. My perfect, pretty wife,” 

And he presses closer to you, hips flush against your ass, as you feel his bulge rub against you through the fabric of his slacks, “I need more,” you whine, and his chuckle makes you shiver. 

“So eager, as always,” his fingers drag your underwear down to join your pants, “even when I’m about to fuck you in your childhood bed,” he circles  he sinks a finger into your needy cunt, swallowing it whole as he swallows the moan that leaves you with his lips, “can’t be too eager baby, I have to loosen you up first,” 

He slowly finger fucks you, the wet squelch so loud in the quiet silence of your bedroom, you would beg him to stop if you didn’t want more — and from the way your juices dripped down his knuckles to his wrists, your cunt wanted more too. 

“Such a good girl f’me,” he murmurs, “I think your parents really like me, the model son-in-law,” he adds another finger, but your walls only beg him to stay as he pumps them in and out, “but what would they think if they heard me fuck you open like this?” 

And he only wishes he could see your face, he knows from the telltale flutter of your walls, you’re growing close to release, and he could see your lovely lips parted for him, eyes blown out in pleasure or squeezed shut, and your face the epitome of ecstasy — but the soft pants that left your lips were good enough. 

“Sugu, I’m close—“ and you’re only whining louder when he pulls his fingers from you, your body arching into his, desparate for his touch, for friction, for anything — but he only licks his fingers clean with a pop, “fuck, please—“ 

You hear fabric rustle until you feel him tease your dripping entrance with the tip of his leaking cock, “Want it that bad, sweetheart? Need to cum?” And you know his lips are curled in that annoyingly smug smirk of his, “a little frustrated?” 

And you know he was toying you, if only to repay you for this morning with this delicious torture — your husband was a brilliant man, but as cruel with his touch as he was with his red pen. 

“Baby,” you cry, and he’s clicking his tongue, “please—“ 

“Don’t be so loud, someone could hear us, remember?” And your cunt is begging, warmth trying to welcome him even as he pulls his tip away, “would you like that? Can you be quiet for me?” And you’re nodding, a whimper leaving your throat, and finally he sinks into you, inch by inch as his fingers drag down your tongue, “good girl,”

“Sugu,” he filled you so well, stretching your cunt with his girth and sending delicious pleasure up your spine, pulsing inside as it dragged inside your sweet walls, “need more—“ 

And he begins to rock into you, bed squeaking traitorously as his hands drag down your front, as the slaps of your skin filled the silence of the room, and your eyes squeezed shut as if that would help you keep this dirty secret in the midst of the night. 

“Wonder if you ever thought you’d fuck your husband on this bed one day,” he kisses your neck, drawing the back of your fingers against your cheek, as his dick missed placed he only wished he could reach with his tongue, wet warmth beckoning him deeper and deeper, “if we’d make a baby in the very bed you spent growing up into the most wonderful woman I’ve ever known,” and fuck, he wasn’t making it easier to stay quiet, loud whimpers and moans muffled against his fingers that your spit dripped down of. 

And then you hear a door creak nearby, and he freezes, the moan of the floorboards as someone walked by making you tense, your pussy a vice grip around his cock, and he couldn’t resist fucking you. His hips piston against you harshly, and you nearly bite his fingers as a gasp works your way from your leaping chest. 

“Careful, baby, someone might hear us, hear you whining and begging for me to fuck you harder, and how would that look? A wife so needy for her husband’s cock?” And he’s snapping his hips rougher making it nearly impossible for you to stay quiet as he no longer cares who hears — as long as he can make you both cum. 

You’re pulling his fingers from your mouth, “s’close, Sugu, I can’t—“ and god, it’s nearly enough for him to cum then and there, but no, no, he has to make you cum first — need to feel your juices drench his cock before he cums inside. 

He’s reaching down, right where his cock is thrusting inside to rub at your needy clit, “cum on my cock, sweetheart, need to feel your pretty pussy cum—“ 

And you do as he says with a cry of his name that he muffled with his lips, fucking you hard through your orgasm, the sounds white noise to you both now — the wet squelch of your cunt was too much, too good, and his balls tense, all too ready to cum. 

You part from his lips only to whisper between gasps, “Cum inside, Suguru, fill me, please,” and your words send over the edge with you, notching his cock deep, as he finally comes undone, hot release painting your walls white, as he moans your name in your ear. 

He’s fucking his cum deeper as his hips stutter against you, slowing, as he finally stills, the bed ceasing its groaning as both of your quiet pants fill the silence. Bodies sticky, he pulls out of you, groaning as he watches his cum spill from inside you, as he grabs a towel from his nearby suitcase to clean the both of you up. 

He presses sweet kisses to your neck, “you okay baby?” 

And he knows you’re pouting even before you start speaking, “If anything heard us, I’ll—“ 

He laughs, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “You’ll what? You love me too much to hurt me,” 

“I do, but I can tease you myself, as you know, far better than you can,” you turn to face him, your lips ghosting over his jaw while your fingers drew circles on his chest, “student has far surpassed her teacher on that front,” 

“On every front,” and you roll your eyes, “I mean it, Princess,” 

“I know you do,” you murmur, “which is why I guess you’re so desperate to have a baby with me,” and he flushes, and not from exertion, gaze shying away, “but lucky for you, I am too,” and his eyes snap to yours. 

“You—“ 

“We’ve discussed it before, Suguru,” your fingers trace his jaw, nuzzling his cheek, “we’re settled in our careers now, we bought our house. We’ve been married for two years now — do you want to?” 

His eyes shine impossibly, even in the dim moonlight filtering in from the window, “there’s nothing I want more than to have kids with you, Princess, but are you sure? It’s a much bigger decision for you than for me, it’s your body,” 

“But it’s our child,” you smile, “and I know you’ll be making it up to me for the rest of our lives,” 

“Don’t know if I’ll be able to ever make it up to you for everything you do for me,” Suguru presses his forehead to yours, “but I’ll spend my whole life trying.” 

✧ a/n: ahhh i've teased this fic for so long, it makes me so happy to write this!!! honestly i've had horrible writer's block and writing these two are always so easy and such a joy for me :). i hope you guys enjoy <3

✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @dazailover1900, @aliyalala @ashhlsstuff , @blue041803 , @mwtsxri i , @bblgumfairy , @sukunasleftkneecap , @xo-evangeline , @fiannee , @teatreeoilll , @chalametet , @ryukaver , @d1gitalbathh , @saga3ious , @seventhcinema , @satosugucide , @your-l0nely-star , @sokkasmoon , @deegausserr , @hyookka , @oggsyy , @littlebitb , @higuchislut , @ti-mame , @itoshisins , @cerene-dipity , @onionsoop , @sinlillith , @izzythenaive , @lalacute03 , @rxndou , @c-themoon , @xxrag-d0llxx , @hqtoge , @sugarxlumps , @hopeluna , @actualdeemon , @enchantedpendant , @serendididy , @soulstealercat , @neuviloved , @simply-a-s1mp , @satorusmochis , @lalacute03 , @sugurora

[stxrysnow]

— your wounds make me bleed.

synopsis. you, being the oh so powerful sorcerer you are, did not even realise the extent of your injuries until you found out that you couldn't stand without the support of something— after defeating the curse, of course. shoko's busy, so, satoru, being the gentleman he is (and also the strange source of comfort you have) decides to take matters in his own hands— while being a pain in the ass, obviously.

however, you joking about your death does not help— and satoru's carefree façade manages to slip, bringing back some memories he had tried to forget.

genres/themes. satoru gojo x reader, hurt/comfort, satoru and reader are highschool friends (frenemies ?), satoru and reader bicker a lot, satoru being a menace, reader is also a menace (lmaoo), mentions of blood (reader is injured), mentions of satoru's past, reader comforts satoru.

jiah’s notes. i miss him so much that it physically hurts me. send help LMAOO—

word count. 1.8k

“tsk. and here i thought that you could take care of yourself, at least,” the white-haired man tuts, and you feel yourself roll your eyes to the back of your head for god-knows-what time again— and that of course earns a smirk from him. “how disappointing. and ah, don’t roll your eyes so much. you might just have a view of your non-existent brain and pass out on me. jeez, i wouldn’t want you to dirty my couch.”

“how fascinating to hear that you care about something, satoru,” your voice feigns bewilderment— a simply amazed look in your eyes as you heave a blissful sigh. “at least you’re not as heartless as i thought. hang on there, expensive leather couch.”

“so you’re admitting you’d pass out, and the fact that you don’t have a brain,” satoru huffs out a laugh, finding amusement in the way you let out a small ‘tsk’ of annoyance.

something about satoru comforts you.

no, it isn’t the comfort that people idealise— no physical contact, no silly gifts or acts of service— it was his mere presence that soothed you, while irritating you at the same time. every word that flowed between you two was either a sugary sweet taunt or a blunt insult— yet, you two found solace in each other in a way that was beyond the comprehension of everyone around you.

including you two.

“if not having a brain will make me cope with your ass, then so be it,” a small smirk tugs at the corner of your lips as you watch satoru wrap the bandage in a firm, yet gentle grip around your arm, relishing in the way his eye twitches and his usual shit-eating grin widens in annoyance.

“at least i didn’t get my ass handed back to me by a grade one curse,” the man lets out a scoff. “seriously, how do you even get this beaten-up?”

“hey, ’t wasn’t my fault i only noticed my blood after defeating it,” you say, shifting your position on that damn couch of his, as you felt a sudden urge to fidget with something, “at least it got exorcised.”

“sure,” satoru says, and you swear you could feel him rolling his eyes even through the confines of his blindfold, “very impressive. at least it got exorcised.”

hearing him say those— your— particular words in that mocking, sing-song voice makes an irritated scowl break out into your face, and oh how it makes satoru smile so smugly— making you want to curse the hell out of this menace of a sorcerer.

“you’re applying too much pressure, dumbass,” you mutter, trying not to wince as his fingers tightened the bandages which covered the skin of your hands.

satoru raises a brow, tightening them even more. “deal with it,” he deadpans. “ ’s your fault, ya know? if i keep it loose you’ll start to bleed. again. over my couch.”

the damned couch again.

honestly? you knew that he couldn’t give lesser shits about the furniture, and that he was just saying that to piss you off. and what was even more infuriating was that it was working.

really, years of experience with satoru gojo had changed nothing— and everything in your feelings towards him.

“get it over with the couch, will ya?” it’s your turn to let out an annoyed scoff, which undoubtedly makes the sorcerer let out a snicker of his own.

“sometimes i wonder how you even ended up becoming a sorcerer,” satoru wraps a band-aid around your scratched fingers, “thought you’d leave the job and become a farmer or somethin’, y’know.”

“unlike you, i had spent too much of an effort in the projects yaga gave us in highschool, so there’s no way i’d let it go in vain,” you shake your head, “it would be too embarrassing.”

besides, you’d rather die than see satoru’s laughing face if you ever decided to change your profession just because you weren’t able to handle a curse or two.

“you never change, do you?” satoru huffs out a laugh, and oh god if he didn’t wipe that agonizing smirk off his face within the next second, you’d gladly do the honours— if only you weren't in so much pain, though, “always so damn reckless. it’s a miracle you have me to tend to your wounds, or else just where you be?”

“dead, most probably,” you say with sarcasm dripping down your words, expecting a scoff of amusement in response— but it never came.

you tear your gaze away from the dried gash on your arm to meet satoru's piercing, piercing stare— it was really a wonder how that guy manages to make you feel his eyes bearing into the depths of your soul even though you couldn't quite actually see them because of the shield his blindfold created.

satoru feels a whirl of emotions in him— eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly, and you just know that he is not, in fact, amused.

not even in the slightest.

his heart is racing— and if he had his blindfold off, you’d see how his usually bright, azure eyes had a darkened glint in them— something which just screamed out the fact that he was unsettled, uncontrolled— afraid.

as the tense seconds pass, he gives you a little glare, his expression hardening.

“. . that’s not funny,” he utters, before averting his gaze down to your arm. his efficient hands wrap the gauze around your limb almost in a mechanical movement— the little frown never leaving his face, lips pressed into a thin line.

oh.

your gaze softens, watching the sorcerer quietly tend to your wounds, noticing how his gaze lingers on a particularly deep gash on your leg— how his fingers tremble ever so slightly when his touch stays on the burn for a little too long— you notice it, of course you do.

he's thinking about suguru again.

there wasn't quite a time when he didn't— at least he didn’t show it to anyone. but you, you see him for who he is— the lonely man who’s just wanted some love, and not just the title of being ‘the strongest’— the man who still yearns for his best friend to come back, even though he's . . . gone.

you always see through him.

you should've considered your words before joking about something like that, really.

no matter how much of an annoying bastard satoru may be to you, but still, he was satoru to you. not 'the strongest', not the guy who always had that stupid smile plastered on his face at all times, not the guy whom the world saw as undefeatable— no, he was something much, much more.

you watch his tense demeanour threaten to consume him alive— how his hands shake no matter how much he tries to make them steady, how his shoulders go rigid when they were usually slumped carelessly, how his bottom lip quivers— it was just a tiny movement, yet you manage to see.

how could you not see earlier that you words would've affected him? god, you felt so stupid.

“ . . hey,” hearing the soft tone in your voice makes something inside satoru snap— raising his head to forcefully avert his gaze from your injuries to your face— heart beating so loud that he’s unsure whether you wouldn’t have noticed.

but then again, you were you, and satoru was, well . . . satoru.

his eyes widen— seeing you open your arms with that soft, apologetic smile— and before the sorcerer knows, he’s burying his nose into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tight around your injured frame; his lower body on the floor as he nuzzles into your arms on the couch.

most people would’ve hesitated, casted him a wary look of disbelief— the satoru gojo, reduced to a trembling mess just because someone joked about their death? the satoru gojo, who still blames himself for his best friend’s death? the satoru gojo, who’s known as ‘the strongest’— being vulnerable?

indeed, it is the satoru gojo, clinging onto you like a lifeline, large hands of his gripping you so tightly that he's afraid that you might disappear the moment his hold loosens.

your satoru.

arms wrapped around his neck as you shush him, bandaged fingers running through his snowy white strands whilst his shoulders shake— oh how you regretted saying that.

“ . . i hate it when you say stuff like that,” he mutters, and if you didn’t have a knack for noticing subtle things about it, you wouldn’t have seen a barely audible crack in his voice.

“ ’m sorry,” you say in a quiet, soothing tone, pulling away a bit to stare at his face, and god did your heart wrench— satoru's bottom lip was red from him biting on them so much.

gingerly, one of your hands unlatches itself from around his neck, going to gently slip under the hem of his blindfold — as you slowly pull it down, revealing those mystical eyes of his— so terrified that you feel the fear radiating off him.

he seems so, so vulnerable like this— a desperation and fright seizing his entire soul as he stares at you. you cup his cheeks, thumbs caressing his soft, warm skin.

“don’t . . . don’t joke about stuff like that,” he says in breathless, shaky whisper— eyebrows furrowing even more as his breath stutters, and from this moment on you swear to yourself to never say something like that again. not if it hurts satoru.

ever.

“i won’t,” you whisper, pressing your forehead against his, “ ’m sorry, satoru.”

you pull his head down so he’s laying it on your chest, arms wrapped around his neck as you massage his scalp soothingly.

satoru’s shoulders relax, his heart easing a bit from hearing your gentle tone, panicked eyes fluttering close as he lets out a small, shaky sigh, burying his face into your chest— so desperate for comfort, for some kind of reassurance that you are okay, that you won’t leave, that you’ll . . .

stay.

you run your hands through his fluffy locks, gently easing the tension that had accumulated within him with simple movements of your fingertips— earning a soft, relaxed sigh from him.

“keep doing that,” you hear him mutter, and you let out a hum in response, continuing to massage his scalp. “don’t . . . don’t stop. please.”

this is how two you seeked comfort from each other.

something that was beyond words— something that was beyond everyone.

including you two.

as you two lay on the couch— two souls craving reassurances from the other— time ticks by, but oh do you care? not even a bit.

“don’t leave me,” satoru whispers, and you find yourself letting out a murmur of approval, caressing his hair. “i was so scared, i can’t lose you too, i—”

“i’ll stay, satoru.”

and so, you do. as long as you’re here with satoru, he has nothing to fear.

as long as you stay.

☆ @stxrysnow on tumblr. do not copy or post any of my works without my permission.

[dxxdhood]

convince me

pairing: wade wilson x gn!reader

summary: deadpool forced me to write smut where the two of you act out the position you see in an,,,, ahem,,, erotic video.

tags: smut (18+), fingering, penetration, slight degradation, finger sucking, dom!wade wilson, sub!reader

wc: 1.2k

“Babe, listen, the mistake we made was going to White Castle sober.”

“Excellent defense, Mr. Wilson. You ever think about switching to a career in law?”

“Can’t, my tagline doesn’t transfer across professions. Calling yourself the Lawyer with the Mouth is like saying you’re the fanfic writer who’s horny.”

He manages to make you chuckle, as usual, even though you were supposed to still be annoyed about your frankly terrible dinner. But walking back into your apartment has you less inclined to hold grudges, somehow. It’s probably the promise of cuddling up in bed together. Either that, or it’s all the hilarious nicknacks Wade keeps dropping off in your living room. The fucked-up Pikachu plush where the eyes and cheeks are swapped is particularly getting to you.

“Wait for me in bed, alright?” you say.

“Oh?” Wade waggles his non-existent eyebrows. “Is this little cutie planning something?”

“Yeah, planning to spend an hour in the bathroom,” you shake your head and fail to hold back a smile. “Find us a good movie to watch while I’m out.”

.

To nobody’s surprise, you both end up on a site that starts in p and ends in hub.

“Nobody can get into that position,” your inner critic bursts out of you at the best of times. 

You can feel Wade smirking from where his face is tucked into your neck, cuddling you from behind. “Well, in the words of Clue 1985,” he runs a scarred hand down your waist. “Sure, they can. Let me show you.”

He nips at your neck, kissing at the sensitive skin of  your jaw. You exhale, trying to calm the burning sensation building in your gut, but you struggle to stay patient when he starts sucking a bruise into your collarbone. 

“Wade!” you gasp, trying and failing to stop your body from grinding your ass against him. He responds in turn, moving closer to you, his hard cock slowly rubbing against your ass.

He flips over, now perched on top of you and caging you in, arms on either side of your head as he kisses you. Every time he deepens the kiss, makes you feel like you’ll never want to come back up for air, he fucks with you by biting at your bottom lip or scratching his teeth against your gums. 

You bang your fists against the mattress a few too many times, understandably annoyed with his teasing, so Wade grips both of your wrists with one hand and holds them above you, plastering them to the headboard.

The action has you moaning into his mouth, and the bottom half of your body continues to move on its own, grinding against the air now. You feel so desperate, your face heats up thinking about how much of a mess you already are for him. Wishing he would close the new gap between your bodies, you arch your back off the bed, trying to feel more of his body against yours.

He giggles, watching you wriggle around. “Hold your horses there, cutie. We’re not even at the good part yet.” 

Wade brings a hand up to your face, rubbing his thumb across your cheek. You’re so thrown off by the sudden show of affection that you don't even process him slipping a rough finger into your mouth.

“Suck,” he commands. And something about Wade only using a single word when he’s usually so noisy has you whining as you circle his finger with your tongue.

His big brown eyes are glued to your lips, watching them worship his finger like he’s all you’ve ever wanted. Around the time you start bobbing up and down his finger, he slips it out of you and pats your cheek.

“Good baby, such a good slut for me,” he whispers as he slides your shorts and underwear off in one motion. He slicks up the finger and you with a small bottle of lube and carefully starts slipping into your entrance.

“What? Where’d you even–” you snap your gaze sideways to your bedside table, which is curiously unopened. 

He taps the front pocket of his pants, “Never leave home without it.” Did he really always have that in his pocket? At the fucking White Castle?!

He talks as he fingers you, pressing against your walls casually as if he isn’t making you lose your mind. “You look impressed, babe. Tell me you’re not impressed.”

“Oh my god, shut up!” you groan as he reaches deeper inside you, adding another finger and stretching you further.

“As you wish,” he pumps his fingers at a faster pace, gripping your hip with one hand and bringing his face to your chest so he can lick at a nipple. A spark shoots down your spine and you can feel him chuckle as your body starts to shiver.

His fingers are pounding against your insides. You can feel yourself throbbing around him, clenching and wanting more, so he adds a third finger and fucks you at a punishing pace. You bite your own lip to keep back what was going to be an embarrassing moan, but he nips at your nipple and you let out a small shout.

Just as he finally starts reaching at that spot in you that has you seeing stars, he slips his fingers out. You're going to berate him for throwing you off just as the pleasure was building, but he already has his cock placed at your entrance, so close to sliding in.

“You ready?” he whispers, and you nod so quickly you think you may have pulled a muscle.

 He releases a breathy moan as he slides all the way in you, reaching right where you need him but still stubbornly not giving it to you.

“Wade, move!” you cry. He responds by smacking your ass and pulling you into his lap. You’re seated on his thighs as he throws your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half as he starts thrusting in and out of you. The position has you feeling so much closer to him, like he has free reign to stroke every part of you.

You grip onto his shoulders and try to interlock your ankles together to help you hold onto him as he pumps his cock into you faster. Wade moans so deep it sounds like a growl and you clench around him at the sound.

“Fuck!” he cries before kissing you, harshly making out as his hips continue to piston inside you. You can feel the vibrations of his moans against your own mouth, and it’s enough to make your muscles twitch around him again.

“Shit, Wade,” you whisper. “I’m going to–”

“Yeah, babe?” he says in between kissing you. “Go, do it. Come for me.”

You rip away from his mouth and release with a moan, your entire body burning as you quiver around his cock. He leans his head into your neck and bites down on the juncture between your neck and shoulder as he comes, filling you so completely you never want him to leave. 

You finally come down from your orgasm and relax in his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Wade is still panting, but he keeps kissing across your face, smiling when you reciprocate and kiss his forehead. 

“You’re making every thought that passes through my head sound like an ABBA song,” he whispers, eyes closed.

“That might be the closest thing to a love confession I’ve gotten out of you.”

[yandere-sins]

Love so toxic, it burns.

In where Diluc (my beloved) realizes he cannot endure one more day apart from you.

[Continuation of this]

Fandom: Genshin Impact Pairings: Yandere!Diluc x AFAB!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Non-Con turning into Dub-Con, Nipple teasing, Fondling, Bareback Sex, Creampie, Being dominated, Light dirty talk), Forced Relationship, Obsessive Love, Kidnapping, Long Post Prompt: @sintember I love you - I do I do I do I do I do.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««   

Your back hit the mattress, the most luxurious softness money could buy enveloping you while the grip of the most deranged, unstable mind you knew around your wrists tightened, drawing you back to reality. It felt like a fever dream, a nightmare. Finding your captor, the bane of your existence, in your room—your closet of all places—was bad enough. Cock strutting from his loosely opened pants, squirting hot semen all over your freshly washed body, was nothing short of the most horrifying experience you could have ever imagined.

And it didn't stop there.

Awfully aware of the bareness of your skin, shame in the form of heat pooled inside your head, making you burn from the inside out. You'd underestimated Diluc, thought him to be prim and proper, when really, you should have realized a long time ago what kind of beast he was. A force to be reckoned with, an animal waiting to pounce. All this time, you deemed him mad but harmless. You, on the other hand, had always been vulnerable, helpless, and exposed to his desires. You had chosen to be ignorant.

Oh, how wrong you had been.

"Let me go!" you demanded, and although ashamed, you looked Diluc straight into his eyes. There wasn't much besides a fiery glow, the red resembling rubies, smothered in flames and fueled by a sickening affection. Even when you strained your wrists in his grasp, his fingers tightening every time you freed an inch from his hold, he didn't seem to hear you, perhaps ignoring you deliberately.

You watched him swallow hard, the most recognition you had received until now, yet he didn't move. Didn't say a word. His tongue appeared between his lips, and you thought he was going to kiss you, so you reflexively turned your head away. But instead, his head lowered to your chest, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth.

Jolting, you arched your back, your body pressing upwards. Your breast molded against Diluc's face, and he moaned into it, your whole ribcage shuddering from the sound. He slipped one hand off your wrists and captured the mound from below, sucking on your nipple with even better access. And you hit back, your now free palm slamming into his shoulder repeatedly, trying to pry him off.

When his teeth found hold, you stilled in shock, gasping.

The slamming of your hand turned into nails digging into Diluc's exposed neck, clawing red marks into his skin to the point it broke. Diluc moaned, using his tongue to tease you. You hated it, you hated every one of his caresses. So why. Why, when he let go of your other hand, too, driving his own down your body, over your stomach, your hips, and between your legs, did he find wetness stuck to your skin? Allowing him to easily slip through your folds, pry at your clit that throbbed impatiently?

Had it been so long since you've been touched with something other than the dutiful skill of the personnel that dwelled in this house, that your body craved the intimacy? Did you perhaps find yourself fond of the teasing and the desire of your captor? You had avoided him so much, ignored and scorned him; you didn't even remember parts of his features, but new ones were burned into your mind now. Like the awkwardness of his tongue as it tried to taste and play with your breast at the same time, greedily lapping, or the slight shiver from his hand between your legs as it found purchase where you didn't want it.

Diluc tried to push past your entrance, and you bit your lip in a mix of disgust and desire, hard enough to taste iron on your tongue. But he hesitated, retreating and allowing you to snap your legs shut, the spreading wetness only mildly reminding you of your failure to protect yourself from him.

Tearing away from your breast, you watched as he stretched his back, standing tall before you and staring at your juices coating most of his hand. Said hand tentatively raised to his face, and with a shuddering breath, he seemed to lose all composure, licking square over his palm like a thirsty dog. You watched in horrifying awe as he groaned, head falling to the side, a distant look on his face as he cast his gaze downwards.

Yours followed, unable to look away.

Spreading his hand wide open, you saw the strings of juices and drool netting in the gaps between his fingers, yet he enveloped his cock in it without hesitation, mixing your juices on top of the bopping, eager monstrosity impatiently waiting for its turn. It seemed like a rough jerk as he pumped his hand up and down, but you soon heard the squelching of wet skin, involuntarily making you clasp your legs together even tighter, your core filling with warmth.

You had to get away.

Fear filled you, unfiltered, pure panic rising. There was a slowly rising sense of desire clawing its way out of the depths you put it in, but no matter how much you pushed back, it grew bigger and stronger with every stroke of Diluc's hand on his cock. Adrenaline flooded your blood, and you could feel every muscle tense to the point of almost snapping apart. You had to do something—kick, punch, scream! Anything to make him stop.

Diluc had said nothing and didn't make his intention clear verbally. But as you watched him vigorously stroke his cock while looking at the triangle formed by your pussy and legs, you knew exactly what was going to happen.

Your body was already maltreated, bitten, licked, and touched in ways you didn't want to be. Diluc had already made you miserable with his passion, flooded your senses with jolts of joy that weren't his to induce. You owed this man nothing. He was a pitiful piece of shit. He didn't deserve to see or give you pleasure—much less join you in it. And you couldn't continue to let him treat you this way.

Treat you as if you belonged to him.

But instead of kicking, only your eyes widened as he sunk to his knees, cock still tightly gripped in his hand, and for the first time since this assault started, he looked up at you, saw you. Recognized the fear, anger, and anxiety raging inside of you. But instead of regret and sorrow like usually—the reluctance he showed even though he wanted to be with you—all you saw in his expression was the unwavering determination of a man that was sure of what he was doing. Someone who had made up his mind. The most dangerous beast of them all.

"Open your legs," he demanded, placing a threatening hand on one of your knees. "Show me how wet you are. That you are ready for me."

He'd never spoken to you like this in all the time you've been with him. You'd never heard him order you for his own pleasure—or perhaps he always had, and you simply ignored it. But this time, it made you shiver. Shiver like only someone expecting to have sex would. A pang of betrayal of your own body went through you, forcing a shuddering breath from your lips that was met with a sigh from Diluc's. And then, for just a moment, Diluc broke the mesmerizing spell as he added a miserable, "Please."

Please tell me you're ready. Please let me fuck you. Please end my suffering.

One word, so many meanings, and you wondered why you'd even considered for a moment doing it. To avoid the fight? Get your own needs met? Feel something for a change instead of the daily, monotonous boredom you had long made peace with?

"Why would I?" you returned the question, and you saw his determination falter, the moment ruined as was the mood. Usually, that would be enough to break his spirit, put Diluc back in his place, and remind him of what kind of person he was.

But not this time.

"Because otherwise, I will pry them open, bruise your beautiful skin if I must to get what I want. I will own you tonight. Will make you mine, so every time I come into this room from today onwards, you'll be reminded of what I did to you tonight. So that you'll be wet forever more, desperate to feel me inside again."

He gulped, his own words registering in his mind. "I'll make you love me tonight, so you know what it's like to crave someone to the point it makes you mad. And you will enjoy it, so don't make me repeat it again. Open your legs."

A battle ensued inside of you, a war so ferocious and unkind between your need to stay in control and the want to let go of it. Here was someone devoted, obsessed with you, ready to fulfill your every need despite the horrors he made you endure daily. You could use him, enjoy it, and perhaps gain some will to live afterward if the longing for human touch and love was finally soothed. But could you live with the shame? Remembering his hands, his mouth, his cock? Could your mental health withstand the presence of your captor burned into your mind?

Did it make a difference which one you chose?

You'd be miserable either way. He'd not stop even if you didn't obey. He'd not vanish, whether it meant taking you willingly or unwillingly. His presence would still be burned inside your mind, still eat at your table, still try to make small talk even if you didn't answer him. You'd not be better off just because you kept your dignity. Pride meant nothing in this house where no one recognized you as a free, self-owned person.

You'd long been defeated, you simply didn't want to recognize it.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you slowly unfurled your clasped legs, Diluc's shameless gaze falling to his place of desire. You caught him sniffing the air before he groaned, the pumping of his hand below your line of sight getting even more vicious. You fell back into the mattress, sobbing behind your hand, muffling the sound. Still, the misery that threatened to overtake you was cut down violently by the pleasure your compliance brought.

Diluc surged forward, burying his head between your legs. You felt all of his face nestled against the hot, sensitive skin of your pussy, lips trembling against yours while his breath burned away your own heat. His nose was stuck at the top of your folds, clashing with your clit ever so often as he let his jaw slack, tongue starting roaming from the very bottom to the top, slurping up all the leakage he could reach.

You were torn from your defeat when Diluc's mouth found the pleasure of wrapping around your clit, sucking it in. He didn't need teeth nor tongue to make your fingers grasp for his hair; didn't need support as you arched your back. Yet he grabbed your waist with the devotion of a lover and pleasured you once he found the holy grail of sensitivity between your legs.

By the time your feet curled and breathless moans and shrieks escaped you, those legs were wrapped around his head, his breath now matching the heat from your pussy, and his worshipping forcing an explosion. It was a high you were reluctant to come down from. But thanks to Diluc, the crash wasn't a crash at all. It was a slowly drawn-out symphony that got quieter the longer he directed it until it faded with a pleasant tingle left behind.

Your eyes met as he rose above you, staring down at your undone form. Your chests were heaving with the severity of what had just happened, the chemistry you'd denied so long having served its purpose. Sometimes, you feared, it was true that fucking your enemy was the one unforgivable sin that gave more than it took. There was only one thing left now. One eager, lonely thing.

When Diluc hoisted your legs back over his shoulders, grabbing your midriff to move you further up the bed, you didn't move an inch, didn't help him. What he wanted, he needed to earn. If he wanted to have you so badly, he had to do the work for it. And he did. Never grumbling, never complaining while he left trails of kisses behind as he hovered above you, positioning the tip of his cock to your entrance.

The moment you did move, did struggle was as he pressed forward, burying himself inside of you in a long, dragging motion. You'd just come, your sensitivity tightening everything, and his cock, on the other hand, was an underestimated mass invading you. A feeling of fullness, paired with the moans from both of your mouths, was something you'd never again forget. The way he was bulging you out from inside, the throb as his cock threatened to explode right then and there, and the desperate wrapping of your walls to keep yourself sane and safe from the overstimulation.

It was all etched inside of you now, whether you wanted it.

This would be the only dick you could ever have. A burning hot rod of love. Dragging his hips back caused you to cry out and Diluc to groan, but all sounds vanished as he snapped it back in place, sinking every inch into you. You may have hated this man, but you had been wrong not to believe him when he said he'd make you remember this every time you'd see him.

How could you possibly forget?

"I love you!" he grunted, slamming his shaft back inside. "I love you! I love you!"

With every confession, his pace quickened, words of adoration raining down on you while his cock forged its shape into your pussy. The heat was unbearable, desire stoking flames and sending them straight to your core that buzzed with delight. Your orgasm was so close, but so was his. The man you hated more than anything ever in your life had now burned his place inside you and made sure to keep all his promises.

You were his now, for however long this moment was to last.

He came to own your body and, with the second orgasm, also your mind.

Making you forever remember the feeling of his hot seed spurting inside you as he held you tightly against him, your spasms only driving his cock further inside.

You screamed and rejoiced, laughed and choked on your own sobs at the same time. It was sad. The joy, the pleasure, and the sounds of ecstasy were sad reminders of how Diluc had won. How his disgusting, abusive love had spread like venom through you. He didn't move from you for a long time, but when he did, the feeling of his jizz running down your legs felt like poison—like pure toxin—against your skin.

Toxin that had befuddled your mind by making you crave pleasure—crave the feeling of being loved. Diluc was kissing you over and over, even as his cock slipped out of you while he tried to cover more of your body with his own, pressing you against himself with a sort of desperation. As if he had to feel as much as possible, or else he might regret not getting his fill of you.

But everywhere your skin touched his, it burned. The heat of his body, the tongue working inside your mouth, his cock rubbing over your tender, exposed pussy. You were increasingly convinced he was secreting some kind of toxin, perhaps his pheromones or simply his love for you.

Because you let him.

That night, you let him do as he pleased, kiss what he wanted, fuck you as much as he desired. As if you had lost your mind.

Because just this once, you craved it. Craved his attention, his devotion, the way he allowed you to let go and forget the awful situation you were in just for one night. You had allowed him to show you how to crave him in the same way he longed for you. And although you'd regret it in the morning, you didn't let him leave your bed that night—leave you.

Even though you knew his flames—his love—would burn you alive one day as you stoked the fire again and again.

[euphoricfilter]

come sit on my lap:

pairing: jungkook x afab! reader

genre: porn without plot || smut || established relationship || non-idol au (?)

tags/ warnings: pwp, mentioned masturbation, thigh riding, dick riding, praise kink, unprotected sex (don’t be stupid, this is fiction), creampie, mentioned cum stuffing because it didn’t make the cut. afab! reader (no gendered nicknames are used, terms like pussy is used though)

notes: listened to we are bulletproof pt.1 while writing this so do with that information what you will. yoongi’s part has me creaming myself it’s so delicious

notes 2: slight changes have been made from the original plan, otherwise this would have probably been 10k words of straight smut

my full masterlist || archived masterlist

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

“you’re home early”

jungkook’s gaze flickers to where you’re stood in the doorway of the living room, your eyebrows furrowing. it wasn’t displeasure painted across your face, just curious confusion.

“i missed you” he instead replies, the corners of his lips quirking upwards.

you slip further into the room, used to jungkook’s eyes on you. the rawest form of silent appreciation for the living art that stood before him; perfect in such a human way. jungkook never thought he’d find the right words to describe you. not when you looked so pretty, and perfect, and every other lame excuse of a word that was never really enough to encapsulate your entire existence.

his eyes glaze over the flush of your cheeks, sure to have just gotten out the bath. you liked to treat yourself on your days off, slipping into the hazy water, scented with the fancy bubble bath jungkook liked to treat you to.

you meet his gaze, head tilting in a silent question of what he was doing.

“come sit on my lap” he hums, “been thinking about you all day”

it’s neither a sigh nor a laugh that spills from your lips, maybe amusement. maybe love. maybe an unexplainable emotion that you reserved especially for jungkook, and jungkook only.

“yeah?”

and he nods, taking your hand into his own once you’re close enough. he tugs you down, helping you straddle one of his thighs; exactly where he’d wanted you.

he’d been thinking about this all day. how slick your cunt would get, always so easy to rile up. how he wanted to suck meanly on your poor little clit until you cried, and you begged for him to take the barest hint of mercy on you.

the mere thought of you sat in his lap, desperate for him to bring you that mind-numbing pleasure you loved to much— had his cock hardening in his pants.

if he had any lick of shame, then he might have felt guilt for getting himself off in the bathroom during his lunch break. his cock spit-soaked sticky, fist tugging at his length, a pitiful imitation of what your pussy would feel like squeezing his length until he came into his fist.

“so pretty” his hands slip down to your waist, lithe fingers barely grazing underneath your shirt, his chest deflating at the touch of your warm skin.

his thigh flexes, and you have to bite your lip to stop the moan that threatened to slip out— a flit of pleasure crawling up your body.

and as subtle as you’d like to be, jungkook can’t help the slow smile that pulls at his cheeks. not when he can feel your pussy clenching through your thin sleep shorts.

he wonders how long it’ll take for them to soak through. or how long it’ll take you to beg he run his fingers over your pussy, pressing over your clit. sinking past your walls and pressing meanly over your sweet spot until you’re shaking and begging ever so sweetly.

your hips roll forwards ever so slightly, desperation seeping from every morsel of your body. desperate for the faintest of friction to solve the issue you found yourself facing.

“don’t be shy, baby” jungkook hums, fingers digging into the meat of your hips, “use me”

“don’t say things like that” you whine, hands coming to cover your face, hot embarrassment searing your cheeks the faintest pink.

jungkook’s head tips backwards, low laugh rumbling from his chest. he flexes his thigh, cock throbbing at the moan that gets caught in the back of your throat.

“hands away from your face, come on. you know i love how pretty you look when you feel good” he takes hold of your wrists, tugging your hands to his chest.

your tongue wets your bottom lip as you find your rhythm, hips rocking forward in desperate little circles.

one of your hands slips from jungkook’s hold, thighs straining as you push yourself up. you slide the crotch of your shorts to the side, bare pussy clenching when it come in contact with jungkook’s pants.

“no panties?”

you smile, shaking your head.

you fumble with jungkook’s belt as you rut your hips forward, delicious pleasure spreading up your body with each drag of your clit against his thigh.

“want your cock” you press a kiss to his jaw, warm breath tickling his skin.

“yeah?” his voice comes out breathless.

“mhmm”

jungkook helps you, undoing his button as you push yourself to kneel over this thigh. you moan when his bare skin knocks against your clit, lifting his hips to pull his underwear down, fabric pooling at his ankles as you slip your shorts off.

your fingers wrap around his shaft, spit dribbling from your tongue onto the tip of his cock.

you jolt forwards when curious fingers part your labia, teasing over you hole.

“fuck” you whine when a finger slips into you, curling as a thumb rubs over your clit.

you squeeze his cock, thumbing the underside of the head, smearing the pearly little beads of pre cum down his shaft.

“spit on it, baby” jungkook looks at you through hooded eyes, tongue toying with his lip ring as you bounce ever so slightly on the second finger jungkook slips into your pussy.

you spit into your palm, mind too muddled to cringe at the stickiness that clings to your skin as you curl your fingers back around his cock, wrist flicking how you know he likes it.

“so good for me” he groans, hips bucking up into your hand, “come here”

his fingers slip from your cunt, helping you fully straddle his lap. his cock slides against your thigh, trail of pre cum painting your skin sticky. weird, primal satisfaction buzzing through jungkook’s veins as he marks you up with his leaking arousal.

you take hold of jungkook’s face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks.

“gimme a kiss” you whisper against his lips, “please”

“so polite” he murmurs, tilting his face, lips pillowing yours.

your mouth parts, breathy sigh licked up by jungkook as he presses his tongue past your lips.

blindly you take ahold of his cock, tugging at it once before you line him up with your entrance.

your hips rock forwards, folds parting around his cock. fizzling pleasure vibrating within you with each nudge of his cockhead against your clit.

“don’t tease” his voice comes out low, tongue prodding at your bottom lip. so shiny, a mixture of both your spit mingled and threatening to drip down your chin.

“sorry” you lift your hips up, tip of his cock pressing against your entrance. your hands brace on his shoulders, thighs quivering with each thick inch of jungkook’s cock sliding further between your walls.

“oh fuck” you moan, head falling onto his shoulder as you bottom out.

jungkook’s fingers dig into the flesh of your ass, stomach tightening in pleasure as your walls clench around his cock.

“you okay?” jungkook asks, hips barely rutting up into you.

“yeah, just feels nice” you trail a finger between your bodies, fingers thrumming ever so slightly over your clit.

arousal soaks jungkook’s cock, dribble of slick wetting his balls.

“might get tired though” you tell him as you sit up a little bit, hips rocking forward.

“i’ll help you” he smiles, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck.

you hum at that. feeling a twinge of a burn in your thighs as you push yourself up, head of his cock still sheathed within you before you drop back down his full length.

you think the air is punched from your lungs, hand that had been playing with your clit balancing yourself on his knee.

“shit, baby” jungkook groans, pulling you up his cock from your ass, “loosen up a bit”

you shake your head, mouth falling open, a moan cutting you off when his cock knocks against your sweet spot. desperation and adrenaline a fiery combination that has you pushing through the pain in your thighs, pussy swallowing his cock over and over until you’re leaking slick, and jungkook can’t help the moan that spills from his lips.

“jungkook” you cry, “s’ so good”

you feel yourself hurdling closer to an orgasm, each rugged stroke of his cock, and each brutal brush against your sweet spot sending you into overdrive.

“gonna cum?” he asks, fingers digging into your hips as he thrusts up into you. merciless and be chases his own high, rutting up into your with a new found vigour that has you hiccuping— nails digging into the fabric of his shirt.

you wilt into his chest, fingers curling into his shirt as you reach your peak; quickly tumbling down the other side as jungkook’s balls slap wetly against your ass, pleasure fueled moans a harmony with your own.

you feel jungkook’s cock twitch as you ride out your high, cunt creamy leaking down his balls as he cums; coating your walls sticky with his seed.

he ruts up into you once more, hands pulling you down as far as you can on his cock as he empties himself out inside of you. thick pulses of cum spilling into you.

“fuck” his head knocks against the back of the couch, “you’re milking me” he laughs, balls tightening when your walls clench around his softening length.

your chest stutters for a breath, hips twitching at the aftermath of your orgasm.

“you’re insatiable” jungkook licks his bottom lip when you circle your hips. “gonna have to give me a minute to recover”

jungkook lays you back, fumbling around for the small pillows propped up against the arm of the couch. he pulls the bottom half of your body up by your ankles, slipping two pillows under your hips.

“no clenching. and no spilling; i plan to stuff you full tonight” he raises an eyebrow, a silent challenge to disobey.

he runs his fingers through your slit, barely dipping between your walls to push his seed back inside of you.

“think you can do that?”

you nod, “don’t make me cum, otherwise it’s gonna make a mess of the pillows”

“you’ll be making more than a mess of the pillows” his nose scrunches. and you’re unsure if it’s bubbly love that fills your body, possibly a new wave of arousal.

maybe both.

[thesecretwriter]

you belong to me (bucky barnes).

pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

summary: in which y/n is getting ready for one of Tony’s parties and Bucky react to y/n’s dress in a very telling way.

warning: Smut – basically a quickie with bucky.

a/n: and my mannnn, thank you to my mannn!

minors/ageless blogs dni

Masterlists

Bucky was lazily waiting on your bed as you got dressed in the bathroom, you insisted on him not seeing it till you wore it.

As you exited the bathroom, Bucky’s eyes strayed away from his phone and took in the sight of you. His eyes travelled to your body; the dress was complimented your body very well; it was more revealing than other dresses you had worn before as the back was basically non-existent and the cleavage showed off your breasts in the best way possible.

“What do you think?” you ask looking at him with excited eyes.

“Baby. I wanted to enjoy this party teasing you, not fighting off everyone who looks your way,” he said waking up from the bed and walking towards you.

You rolled your eyes at his words and turned around to go to our vanity to put on the jewellery, “What’re you rolling your eyes at?” his asked with a raised brow.

“Your childishness,”

Within a millisecond, he was behind you, glaring at you through the mirror.

“How am I being childish?” he asked caressing your arm as he stood closely to you.

“I got this dress hoping you’d like it, but you had to go ahead and ruin the moment,”

“It’s a pretty dress baby, and it makes you look beautiful, but I should be the only one to see you like this,” he said as he took the thin strap in between his fingers and let it slide off your shoulder.

Your protest fell on deaf ears as he slowly undid the zip of your dress. You kept the dress from falling off and exposing your breasts by holding it at the chest area.

“Let go,” he simply stated.

Looking at him through the mirror, you obeyed.

He bent you over so that your body was leaned over your vanity, he maintained eye contact in the mirror, while bunching your dress up to your hips.

A hum of approval released itself from his lips as saw that you weren’t wearing panties.

“Naughty girl,”

Glancing at the clock on that wall, he made quick work of undoing his pants and pulls it down till there’s enough room for his cock to come out.

Reaching from behind you, he teased your clit by rubbing soft circles as he slips himself in.

“So. Wet. For. Me,”

Each word released between clenched teeth with the rhythm of him thrusting into you.

Because of how hard he was be thrusting into; you needed to hold the sides of your vanity to keep yourself steady. He fucked you hard and fast, making it known that he was the one who owned you.

The sound your moans and heavy panting filled the silence in the room. With the angle he was in, he was able to thrust into you and almost constantly hit your g-spot each time.

He pulled your body into his tall form, almost making you stand up straight as he gripped your neck and made you watch in the mirror.

His pace and roughness brought you closer and closer to the edge.

Feeling the tremble of your thighs as he pulled you into his thrusts caused Bucky to smirk.

The mirror gave him the perfect view of your pleasure-stricken face, breasts moving at the pace of his cock moving inside of you.

“Tell me who you belong to,”

Not being able to respond, you let out a slur of words.

“Tell me,”

“I belong to you,” you moan in pleasure.

When he felt you clench around him, he knew you were close to cumming – causing him to increase his pace.

“Oh fuck,” his voice deep and rough as he groaned in pleasure.

The trigger of your own orgasm resulted in his following tow. He kept thrusting into you till the point of his cock feeling too sensitive inside of you.

You both relished in the moments of pleasure, breathing heavily from the aftermath.

As soon as Bucky was able to collect his thoughts, he took his cock out of you and zipped up his pants, then stood you up and helped you get dressed.

You looked to be in a daze which caused him to let out a breathy chuckle.

“Wear the dress. I’m happy to spend the rest of the night knowing my cum is deep inside you. And if I need to remind you of who you belong to – then I’m sure we can make a plan,”

You’d nod to him, still not being able to verbally say anything.

With a kiss to your forehead, he grabbed your purse and jacket and headed towards the door with his other hand draped around your waist.

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Don’t Call Me Kid - Aaron Hotchner

“don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you made me.”

——

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Reader confesses their feelings for Hotch, they have an angsty yet adult conversation about it.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I was originally not going to give this a happy ending but I got too sad writing it and changed my mind, also yes i’ve been writing a lot don’t criticize me lol

TW: alcohol mention, angst, age gap, slight physical touch (all respectful, nothing sexual), slight implied daddy issues, fem reader

Rating: G

——

Aaron Hotchner was not a man one could approach without a level head. He was rational, always thinking of the most reasonable course of action, weighing every outcome before making any decision. He had to be, as hasty decision-making had cost him more than he cared to discuss.

You knew that, you’d worked under him for two years now and although he didn’t discuss his private life all that frequently at work, these weekly team meetups at the local bar taught you more than enough about him as a person. The usual stoic head of the team was kind, funny, encouraging, albeit a bit quiet until he knew you a bit better.

About a year into your time with the team you let slip that you’d never explored the city, and Rossi wasted no time letting Aaron know about it. A week later he was driving you around, explaining the history behind the popular monuments you had requested a visit to, then spending an hour at the Folger Shakespeare Library to admire the historic architecture and impressive selection of literature, and ending the day at the Moongate Garden, watching the sunset on a bench surrounded by cherry blossoms.

From that day you knew if there was anything you needed, all you had to do was ask. He’d shown you your favorite restaurant, the coffee shop you sat in every free morning you had, reading books he’d suggested you read. You didn’t want to admit it, but you had fallen hard for him, and over the last year those feelings became harder and harder to push down.

It was 2 a.m. and the bartender had announced last call, earning a disappointed groan from Penelope.

“We were just getting started!” She whined, her speech slightly slurred.

“You’ve had more than enough for tonight Babygirl, let’s get you home.” Derek caught her waist, steadying her as she rose from the booth the team had been sitting in.

“I better get going too, Will has to work early so I have to take Henry to school in the morning.” JJ added, playfully rolling her eyes.

The rest of the group finished up their drinks, wrapping up the current conversation before shuffling out of the bar. You said your goodbyes, giving parting hugs before pulling out your phone, ready to order yourself a rideshare home. Your cell service was almost non-existent and the app was taking forever to load, the chill in the air causing goosebumps to form on your bare legs. You raised your phone in the air, trying to gain a better signal as you walked back and forth in front of the bar, growing increasingly frustrated.

Aaron exited the bar as you made another pass by the entrance, tripping as your ankle wobbled in your heels. He was quick to catch you, helping you find your footing once more.

“Do you have a ride home?” He asked, offering you his suit jacket for warmth.

“I’m trying to order a taxi but the app won’t load.” Your frustration was evident, each tap of your finger against the glass of your smartphone just a little too firm.

“You don’t live far, correct? I can walk you home.” He offered, his hand still lingering on the small of your back to steady you. You weren’t drunk, not by a long shot, but you didn’t handle your liquor the best and although you were mostly there mentally, your center of gravity had been better.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to go out of your way for me.” You countered, always raised to decline at least once when offered anything to remain polite.

“I want to make sure you get home safe, it’s really no trouble.” You knew he was earnest, always such a father figure to every member of the team. You put your phone in your bag, throwing it over your shoulder before turning to walk down the street that led to your apartment building.

You walked in silence for a while, his hand hovering behind you just in case your clumsiness kicked in along your walk. His suit jacket was surprisingly warm, the stiff fabric shielding your bare arms from the cold. You weren’t sure why you’d chosen to wear a short sleeved blouse when it was nearing the end of fall, but you suspected it subconsciously had something to do with how well the v-neck showed off your cleavage. You felt a bit pathetic sometimes, finding any way you could to attempt to pull his attention. It never worked, Aaron respected you too much to stare at your figure no matter how provocatively you dressed.

After a few blocks your heel caught on a storm grate, making you stumble forward. His reflexes were impressive as ever, his arm reaching out to catch your waist.

“I swear I’m not usually this clumsy.” You joked, straightening your skirt as you started again on your journey home. He didn’t say anything, but the slight smile his lips formed told you he found your try at humor in an awkward moment amusing.

“It’s just around this corner, I’ll be fine from here.” You tried to wave him off, dying to disappear into your apartment to prevent further embarrassing yourself.

“I’m walking you up to your apartment, I need to see you home safe.” He stated, turning the corner with you. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, his domineering yet caring tone making your heart race. This was all becoming too much, the protectiveness, the slight touches, you could feel something burning in your chest, the urge to spill your guts growing stronger by the minute.

He waited for you to punch in the code to the front door of your apartment building before holding it open for you, following you to the elevator up to your floor. You took the quiet ride up, him continuing to follow you down the hallway to your apartment when the doors opened. You opened your bag, fiddling around for your keys for a moment before finding them, your hand shaking as you tried to unlock the door. You finally got it, pushing open the front door and stepping into your messy living room.

“How are you getting home?” You asked, setting your bag on the small table next to the door.

“I’ll order a taxi, I’m just glad you’re home safe.” He began to pull out his phone, and the liquid courage coursing through your veins told you to invite him in.

“Do you want to come in while you wait?” You offered, handing his suit coat back to him. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him and making sure to lock it, never too cautious.

He laid his suit coat over the back of your coach, taking a seat before taking out his phone again to order his ride.

“It won’t be ready for another 30 minutes, I hope I’m not overstaying my welcome.” He was far too courteous, and all you wanted to do was tell him how badly you wanted him to stay forever.

“You could never.” You told him, kicking off your heels before sitting next to him on the couch. You took a deep breath, trying to settle yourself as you picked up the book that was resting on your coffee table. You watched over the top of the pages to see him glancing around the room, scanning the contents until he stopped on the media console across the room. He stood from his place next to you and walked over to it, taking a knee to get down to the same level as your record collection.

“You have impressive taste.” He stated matter-of-factly, his long fingers brushing across the spines of each album. You gave a quiet ‘thank you’ as he began to pull a record out, and you placed your book down again to see what had caught his eye.

“I didn’t know you listened to The Beatles.” He held up the jacket of the band’s white album, looking to you in slight disbelief.

“Of course, The White Album is one of the greatest of all time.” You were excited to talk music with him, it was a topic you’d never discussed before and you were always eager to learn more about him. That may have been to your own detriment, because the more you learned about him, the harder you seemed to fall.

You knew a relationship between the two of you could never happen, he was your superior, not to mention twenty years your senior, but something felt like it was pulling you to him no matter how many guys you tried to distract yourself with.

“You never fail to surprise me.” He smiled, the outer corners of his eyes crinkling just so. You could’ve died right there, content to collapse into a puddle of yearning. You didn’t know what came over you, but you found yourself clearing your throat as a rush of adrenaline coursed through you.

“Aaron, I have to tell you something.” Your voice shook, but you remained strong in your conviction.

His faint smile turned to a look of concern, quickly rising from his knee to join you on the couch again.

“What is it?” He questioned, brow furrowed as he angled his body toward you.

“I-It’s, nevermind.” That burst of adrenaline quickly faded, his eyes on you feeling like a cigarette burn.

“Y/N, whatever it is, you can trust me. I understand if you’re not comfortable telling me, but don’t let fear hold you back on my account.” He reassured you, resting his hand on your knee sympathetically. You had to do it, there was no way you could face him every day if you brushed him off without an explanation.

“I’m in love with you.” You blurted out, hanging your head, too afraid of what his reaction would be to dare look him in the eye. The silence that sat between you two felt like it carried on forever, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. After what felt like an eternity he cleared his throat, still holding his hand on your knee.

“Why do you feel that way?” He asked, trying to understand where this was coming from. He couldn’t deny that he had felt chemistry between you, but it wasn’t something he could ever entertain acting on.

“Over the last year I’ve gotten to know you in ways I never dreamed I would, I’ve never felt this way for anyone before, even those I once thought I loved in the past. You’ve been so kind, Aaron, you’re an incredible friend, father, leader, how could I be anything but amazed by you?” You felt as though you were rambling, but he seemed so invested in your answer that you didn’t care if what you said was rational.

“I understand.” He confirmed, turning silent as the gears turned in his mind. You could tell he was fighting something internally, the look of concentration on his face seeming almost painful.

You pulled your knee out from under his hand, your nerves convinced that he was looking for a way to fire you without creating an HR nightmare. As quickly as you pulled away he had moved closer to you, his hand finding its place on your knee once more.

“Look at me.” He said, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin. You did as you were told, tears threatening your waterline as you did your best to hold his gaze.

“I’m not going to lie to you, you are a very charming young woman and I’d be honored to pursue something more intimate with you, but we can’t. I’m your superior, and you’re young enough to be my daughter.” He explained, the pain in his expression serving to break your heart in two.

“I don’t care.” You were not thinking rationally in that moment, your heart speaking for you instead of your head.

“You should, this is your future.” His tone held frustration this time, finding your childish response disappointing.

“I am not a child Aaron, I can make my own decisions.” You told him, a tear slipping down your cheek as you grew increasingly frustrated with his stonewalling.

“I know that, but you’re young, you have so much to experience and you shouldn’t put that on hold for me, or anyone else for that matter.” Even through his anger he was just trying to steer you in the responsible direction, thinking more about your future than whatever desires he held.

“I have all I’ve ever wanted, my dream has always been to work for the FBI. I don’t have any delusions of grandeur, I never have. I want a job where I’m doing good and a family to come home to when all is said and done.” You explained, and it wasn’t a lie. It’s not that you weren’t driven, you clearly had to be to even make it to the bureau, but that was as far as you wanted your drive to take you.

“For this to work, I can not be your boss, and I won’t ask you to step down.” He continued evaluating each possible risk in your dynamic, and for once you were one step ahead of him.

“You don’t have to, I put in for a transfer to the financial crime unit last week.” You finally let the other secret you’d been keeping slip, and you watched his face drop in disappointment.

“The team is going to miss you more than you know.” He told you, wishing he had known so he could have convinced you otherwise.

“I know, but I couldn’t bare the thought of being around you every day while I feel like this, and I was fascinated by the way their team handled the case we partnered with them on last month. The timing felt right.” You explained, needing him to know that it was not his fault, but a conscious decision you made.

“I just want to try.” You pleaded one last time, hoping he’d let his walls down just this once.

“If this is really what you want, I’ll take you out next weekend. If we’re going to do this, I’m going to do it the right way, you deserve that much.” He gave in, letting himself do something personally risky for the first time in years.

“I would love that.” You agreed, all of the anger and frustration that had been building up over the last year finally starting to dissipate ever so slightly.

How it would pay off, only time would tell, but for now, you were content to just get to know him more and show him who you are the best you can.

——

Part 2 can be found here

Tag List: @pleasantwitchgarden @lover-of-books-and-tea

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[yelenasdiary]

Drabble || Distracted

Pairings: Kate Bishop x Fem! Reader

Summary: Kate can’t stay focused on the movie the two of you are watching.

Fluff & Smut. 18+ ONLY! Men & Minors, DNI!!

Warnings: Needy! Kate, Fingering (R Receiving), Vaginal touching (idk if I need this warning?), Orgasm denial. This is not proofread or corrected! | K

AC: just a little idea I had, enjoy! X

A cold, stormy night in NYC, you and your girlfriend were snuggled up in Kate’s bed watching yet another action packed film. Kate had won rock paper scissors for the second time tonight, allowing her to pick the movie and after a long week at work, you didn’t mind her movie choices.

Kate’s attention to either films was lacking. Her mind not being able to ignore the fact you were lying beside her in one of her oversized shirts, no bra & just panties. It drove her mind crazy. She just wanted to turn the movie off and have you riding her tongue with her name coming from your lips. The loud cracks of thunder would surely drown out your moans, she thought.

You felt her hand gently rubbing the inside of your thigh, you chose to ignore the thought that maybe she wanted a little more, not wanting to ruin the comfort of the night. It has been a little while since the two of you were able to have sex. With Kate training with the Avengers and being away on missions, then there was you who had plenty of admin work to deal with along side Pepper Potts, it left little to no time for intimacy.

Kate tried to read your body language, you didn’t stir or move her hand away nor did you look up at her to question her actions. She moved her hand further up your inner thigh and slowly you spread your legs just a little wider for her without realising.

Your eyes closed as you let out a soft moan when Kate’s thumb brushed over your clit, she bit her bottom lip at the sound she missed. You shift ever so slightly closer to her, wanting more but the movie had an interesting story line and you were sure it was almost finished.

“After the movie baby, please, I promise” you said softly when Kate added a little pressure to your clit, making you moan softly once again. “I can’t wait” the brunette whispered, her lips pressing softly against your cheek, “just let me make you feel good, please” she begged. Got you loved how needy she was for you.

You gave her a soft nod, allowing her to slip her hand into your panties, her lips moving to neck. She toyed with your clit and ran her fingers through your folds, “you’re so wet” she mumbled into your neck.

“I missed you” you replied with a soft smirk, your eyes struggling to stay focused on the movie in front of you.

She toyed with you just a little longer before she pulled her hand out from your panties and brought her long, slender fingers to her lips, moaning ever so softly at the taste of you. “God, I’ve missed you too” she said before sliding her hand back down into your panties.

Slowly, she slid two fingers into your pussy, curling them almost instantly. “K-Kate!” You moaned softly.

“It’s okay baby, just watch your movie” she hushed you, allowing you time to get used to her fingers again. “I just want to hear those pretty moans you make for me” she added.

She started off slow, thrusting her fingers in and out of your wet cunt, each thrust making you wetter. Your focus on the movie was non existent, your moans got louder as her thrusts sped up. Kate’s soft lips left light hickeys on your neck, she hated she couldn’t leave strong ones unless you came her the okay. You didn’t want to lose your job over her neediness to calm you as hers.

“B-baby! Don’t stop” you moaned, throwing your head back, giving Kate even more access to your neck. “You’re so wet for me” she said softly, soaking up the whimpers that left your lips, “clenching my fingers so hard baby, you’re close, aren’t you” she added in a tease. All you could do was nod, as you desperately bucked your hips to match her thrusts. “W-wanna c-cum” you whimpered.

“I know baby, just a little longer. You can hold it for me, can’t you? Just a for a little longer” the brunette said before crashing her lips onto yours, deepening her fingers. You gripped onto her bicep harshly, doing your best not to cum unless she said but the way she curled her fingers at the perfect time, it was near impossible.

“You’re doing so well baby, want you to make a mess for me, can you do that?” Kate asked, pulling away from the shortly lived heated make out session.

“P-lease Kate, ne-need to cum! W-wanna make a m-mess for y-you” you managed to pull the words together between moans.

“Cum for me beautiful” Kate whispered, leaning closer to you, “cum for me” she added seductively.

The tone of her voice mixed with her fingers buried deep inside your cunt pushed you over the edge, you came also screaming her name when you felt her thumb begin to toy with your sensitive clit. Your hips began to roll against her fingers as you rode out your high, your nails digging into the skin on her bicep, she smiled softly at you. “That’s it baby, keep riding my fingers” she whispered.

“We’re not done yet” she added.

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[lila-lou]

✨Taking her in - Pt. 9✨

Summary: After Dean Winchester saves your life, he brings you into the safety of the bunker. As you grow older and stronger, Dean refuses to let you join the hunts, his overprotective behavior intensifying. But beneath his fierce protectiveness lies something darker—conflicted feelings he can’t face. As your 18th birthday approaches, Dean struggles to keep control, torn between his duty to protect you and emotions he’s buried for too long.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: HUGE Age Gap, Immoral, Underage Reader, Language, ANGST, fluff

Word Count: 8842

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💜

Eventually, the need to see his face, to gauge his expression, became too strong to resist. You tilted your head slightly, your eyes seeking his, hoping to find some kind of reassurance, some sign of what he was thinking. But Dean, ever the master of self-control, kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling, his jaw clenched as he fought the internal battle raging inside him.

He knew you were looking at him, could feel the intensity of your gaze, but he forced himself to stay still, to keep his eyes averted. He knew that if he looked down, if he met your gaze, he would be lost. The walls he had carefully built up to keep his feelings in check would crumble, and he would give in to everything he had been trying so hard to resist.

But the seconds ticked by, each one stretching longer than the last, and the weight of your gaze became impossible to ignore. He could feel you there, so close, and the pull was undeniable. His resolve weakened with each passing moment, the temptation too strong to resist.

Finally, as if drawn by an invisible force, Dean’s eyes slowly dropped to meet yours. The moment your gazes locked, something inside him snapped. He could see the vulnerability in your eyes, the silent plea for something more, and it broke through the last of his defenses.

The air between you seemed to crackle with tension, the room suddenly feeling too small, too intimate. Dean’s breath caught in his throat as he looked at you, really looked at you, and saw everything he had been trying to avoid for so long. The way you were looking at him, the soft vulnerability mixed with something deeper, something that mirrored the emotions he had been trying to bury—it was too much.

“(Y/N)…”. Dean’s voice was a whisper, rough and filled with a mixture of longing and restraint. He wanted to say something, to put a stop to whatever was happening between you, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he found himself inching closer, his grip on you tightening just slightly.

Your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest as you searched his eyes, trying to read the emotions flickering there. You could see the struggle, the way he was battling with himself, and it made your own emotions surge even more. You wanted to close the distance between you, to finally give in to the connection that had been building for so long, but a part of you was still scared—scared of what this could mean, of how it could change everything.

Dean’s gaze dropped to your lips for a brief moment, and you could see the internal battle playing out behind his eyes. He wanted this—wanted you—but he was fighting it with every ounce of strength he had. But as the seconds ticked by, it became clear that the fight was slipping away from him.

Before Dean could gather his thoughts or steel himself against the overwhelming tide of emotions, you made the first move. Your hand slid up, fingers gently grazing his stubbled cheek. The touch was soft, hesitant, yet filled with a silent promise, one that spoke of all the things you’d been too afraid to say aloud. The warmth of his skin under your palm sent a shiver through you, and you could feel the tension in his body as he struggled with his own conflicting desires.

Dean’s breath hitched, his eyes searching yours as you inched closer, the space between you shrinking until it was almost non-existent. Every inch of him was screaming to pull away, to keep you safe from the storm of emotions that threatened to consume you both, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t tear his gaze away from yours.

And then, with a courage you hadn’t realized you possessed, you closed the remaining distance. Your lips met his in a soft, tentative kiss that was as much an exploration as it was a confession. The moment your lips touched, it was as if something clicked into place—a connection that had been waiting for this exact moment, for this exact kiss.

Dean’s initial shock melted away almost instantly, and the restraint he had been clinging to dissolved like mist in the morning sun. His hand slipped up to cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, pouring all the unspoken words and buried feelings into it. There was a hunger in the way he kissed you, a desperation that matched your own, as if he had been waiting for this moment just as long as you had.

The world outside ceased to exist; there was only the two of you, lost in each other. The kiss was both tender and urgent, a delicate balance of restraint and passion, as if you were both afraid this might be the only chance you’d get.

Dean’s other arm tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The feel of your body against his, the softness of your lips, the warmth of your breath—it was intoxicating, more powerful than anything he had ever felt before. Every part of him was on fire, and he didn’t want it to stop. He didn’t want to let you go.

As you pressed yourself closer to Dean, the kiss deepened, filled with an urgency that left both of you breathless. You shifted, one of your legs slipping over his hip, drawing him even closer. Dean’s hands moved instinctively, one sliding from your waist to your ass, pulling you tighter against him. The contact was electric, and the warmth of his body, combined with the feel of his erection pressing against your core, sent a jolt of desire through you.

A tight knot formed in your lower belly, the intensity of your emotions and physical sensations making it difficult to think clearly. The pressure, the heat, and the sensation of Dean’s hardness against you combined to overwhelm your senses. Unable to hold back, a soft, involuntary moan escaped from your lips, muffled by his mouth.

Dean responded to your moan with a low growl, his hands tightening their grip on you as he deepened the kiss even further. His own desire was becoming nearly unbearable, and the way you were pressing against him, the way you were responding to him, only fueled the fire burning inside him.

He shifted slightly, his hands moving to hold you more securely, ensuring that you were pressed flush against him. The urgency of the moment was palpable, both of you caught up in the raw intensity of the connection you had just established. The boundaries between you seemed to blur as you both gave in to the powerful emotions driving you.

But even as the heat of the moment consumed you, there was a flicker of hesitation in the back of Dean’s mind. He knew how significant this moment was, how it could change everything between you. Yet, as he felt your body against his, heard your breathy moans, he found it almost impossible to pull away. The mix of desire and care was almost too much to handle, and it made every instinct in him scream to stay, to hold you and cherish this moment for all it was worth.

You continued to move against him, your breaths coming in shallow gasps as you tried to keep up with the mounting intensity. The kiss was no longer just an exploration but a fervent exchange of passion and longing, each of you trying to communicate everything you couldn’t put into words.

As you clung to Dean, one hand gripping his biceps, the other buried in his hair, the sensations flooding your body became too much to contain. The pressure of your core against his erection, the steady, deliberate friction as you moved together, pushed you closer and closer to the edge. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, the combination of your emotions and the physical connection with Dean taking you to a place you hadn’t anticipated.

With each shift of your hips, the knot in your lower belly tightened, coiling with an intensity that left you breathless. Dean’s hands guided you, pulling you against him, the heat of his touch searing into your skin.

Then, without warning, the wave of pleasure crashed over you, your body tensing as you climaxed. The sensation was so powerful, so overwhelming, that you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your lips, muffled by the kiss. Your body shook in Dean’s arms, every muscle trembling as the pleasure washed over you in intense waves.

Dean felt you tense against him, the way your body shook as you came, and it was like nothing he had ever experienced before. The raw, unfiltered expression of your pleasure—the way you moaned into his mouth, the way you clung to him—was the hottest, most intimate thing he had ever witnessed. He was captivated by it, completely consumed by the sight and feel of you in his arms, lost in the moment.

Dean’s breath hitched as he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of awe and disbelief. The way your body had responded to him, the intensity of your release, was something he hadn’t anticipated, something that had shaken him to his core. His voice was a low, rough whisper as he asked, “Did you just…?”.

His words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you were too overwhelmed to respond. The reality of what had just happened began to sink in, and with it came a wave of embarrassment that made your cheeks burn. You could feel the slickness between your legs, a physical reminder of just how completely you had lost control in his arms, and it made you want to hide, to pull away and escape the vulnerability of the moment.

But Dean’s arms were still around you, holding you close, and the look in his eyes was anything but judgmental. He looked almost in awe, as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened either. That didn’t stop the flush of embarrassment from flooding your system, making you want to look anywhere but at him.

Dean´s heart raced, his own desire throbbing through him with an intensity that bordered on painful. The knowledge that you had come just from being close to him, just from that little bit of friction, ignited something primal inside him. It took everything he had not to lose control right then and there.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper when you finally managed to speak. “I… I didn’t mean to…”. The words trailed off, your mind still reeling from the intensity of the moment and the sudden rush of emotions that followed.

But Dean didn’t say anything. Instead, he cupped your face with one hand. And without any hesitation, Dean leaned in and pressed his lips to yours again. The kiss was different this time—less desperate, more deliberate. It was as if he was trying to tell you with every movement of his lips that it was okay, that there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

The moment his lips touched yours, the tension that had been coiling inside you began to unravel. You melted into the kiss, letting go of the lingering embarrassment, the confusion, and the fear. All that mattered was the way Dean was holding you, grounding you in the present, making you feel safe and cherished.

Dean’s kiss deepened, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head as he pulled you closer, pressing your bodies together once more. The heat between you reignited, but this time it was slower, more controlled. There was a tenderness in the way he kissed you, a reverence that made your heart swell. He wasn’t just kissing you—he was telling you that he understood, that he was here with you, and that nothing about this scared him away.

Your hands found their way back to his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you lost yourself in the kiss. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect, intimate moment. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the way his breath mingled with yours.

When you finally pulled back for air, both of you were breathing heavily.

As you both pulled back, breathing heavily, the intensity of the moment hung in the air between you. The room felt charged with emotion, the weight of what had just happened settling in. But before any doubts or second thoughts could surface, before the moment could be ruined by uncertainty or fear, Dean gently guided your head against his chest.

You could feel his heart racing beneath your ear, the rapid thumping a mirror of your own. It was both reassuring and thrilling, a reminder that he was as affected by this as you were. His arm wrapped around you, holding you close, as if he was trying to shield you from the world outside, from any of the complications that might come with this new shift in your relationship.

Dean’s breath was still uneven, his body tense with the lingering desire that had built up between you. You could feel the hard press of his erection against your hip. It sent another wave of heat through you, your body responding to his in a way that felt both natural and inevitable.

But for now, neither of you moved.

Dean’s hand slowly began to stroke your hair, his touch gentle and calming. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to fill the silence with words that might break the spell of the moment. Instead, he just held you, grounding you in the warmth of his embrace, letting you both come down from the intensity of what had just happened.

As you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, you felt your own breathing begin to slow, the adrenaline of the moment finally starting to ebb away. The heat between you was still there, still palpable, but it was tempered now by a deeper sense of connection, of understanding.

When you woke up the next morning, the first thing you noticed was the cool emptiness of the bed beside you. The warmth and comfort of the night before had evaporated, leaving behind the stark reality of the morning. The memories of what had happened flooded back to you—every touch, every kiss, the way Dean had held you so tightly, as if he didn’t want to let go. But now, he was gone.

You reached out instinctively to the space where he had been, your hand brushing against the cold sheets. The room was quiet, almost eerily so, and you felt a pang of loneliness settle in your chest. The absence of Dean beside you was more than just physical; it was an emotional void that made the morning feel colder, emptier.

You sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes as you tried to shake off the remnants of sleep. The events of the night before felt almost surreal, like a dream you weren’t entirely sure had actually happened. But the lingering warmth on your skin, the faint scent of Dean still clinging to the sheets, told you it had been very real.

As you looked around the room, searching for any sign of him, the reality of the situation began to set in. Dean hadn’t just left the bed—he had left you. The weight of that realization hit you hard, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he had regretted everything, if the moment of connection you had shared had been a mistake in his eyes.

The thought made your stomach churn, and you felt a wave of anxiety rise up inside you. What if this changed everything between you? What if he couldn’t look at you the same way anymore? The vulnerability of last night, the raw emotions that had surfaced, now seemed like a double-edged sword.

You slipped out of bed, the cool air of the morning making you shiver as your bare feet touched the floor. The house was quiet, everyone else still asleep or just starting to stir. You made your way to the bathroom, splashing water on your face in an attempt to clear your head. But no matter what you did, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had settled over you.

After a few minutes, you decided to go downstairs, hoping to find Dean, to talk to him, to figure out where things stood. But as you descended the stairs, the house remained silent, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken words.

When you finally reached the kitchen, you found Dean standing by the window, a cup of coffee in his hand. He didn’t turn when you entered, his posture tense, his gaze fixed on something outside that you couldn’t see.

“Dean?”, you called out softly, your voice hesitant.

He didn’t respond immediately, and for a moment, you feared he might ignore you altogether. But then he sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of his thoughts, and finally turned to face you. His eyes were shadowed with guilt, and you could see the turmoil swirling just beneath the surface.

“Morning”, he muttered, his voice rough, as if he hadn’t slept at all.

You took a tentative step closer, trying to read his expression, to understand what he was feeling. “Dean… about last night…”.

He cut you off, shaking his head as if trying to ward off the conversation.

Dean cut you off, shaking his head with a frustration that was almost palpable. His jaw was tight, and you could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he seemed to be wrestling with something deep inside. The guilt and anger in his expression were unmistakable, and it was clear that whatever he was feeling wasn’t just about last night—it went much deeper than that.

“I don’t want to talk about it”, he said sharply, his voice harsher than you’d ever heard it. It caught you off guard, making you flinch slightly. You could see that he wasn’t just upset—he was angry, but it wasn’t directed at you, at least not entirely. There was a self-loathing there, a frustration that seemed to be eating away at him.

You took a step back, unsure of how to navigate this sudden shift in his demeanor. “Dean, I’m sorry if—”.

He slammed the coffee cup down on the counter, the sound reverberating through the quiet kitchen. “Don’t”, he snapped, his voice rough with emotion. “Don’t apologize. This… this isn’t your damn fault. It’s mine”.

You could feel the tension radiating off him in waves, the way his anger seemed to blur the lines between who he was really upset with. You wanted to reach out, to reassure him, but you weren’t sure how to bridge the gap that had suddenly appeared between you.

“Dean, please, just talk to me”, you urged, your voice trembling slightly. “We can figure this out together”.

He looked at you then, his eyes full of a pain that made your chest tighten. “What’s there to talk about?”, he asked bitterly. “I shouldn’t have let things go that far. I should’ve known better. Hell, I do know better, but I still let it happen”.

You could feel the hurt welling up inside you, a deep ache that threatened to overwhelm you, but you swallowed it down, trying to focus on what he was saying, trying to understand the depth of his anger and guilt.

“You’re fucking 18, (Y/N)!”, he hissed, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’m like your damn brother! I watched you grow up! This wasn’t supposed to happen!”.

The rawness in his voice cut through you, making you flinch. You could see the torment in his eyes, the way he was grappling with everything that had happened, and the self-loathing that seemed to be eating him alive. He wasn’t just angry—he was devastated by the situation, by the thought that he had crossed a line he could never uncross.

“Dean…”, you began, your voice barely above a whisper, but he cut you off again, shaking his head as if trying to shake off the thoughts that were tormenting him.

“No”, he said, his tone harsh and filled with regret. “This isn’t right. You’re too young. I’m supposed to protect you, not… not do this”. He gestured vaguely, his frustration evident as he struggled to find the right words. “I’m supposed to be better than this”.

You could see the guilt tearing him apart, the way he was punishing himself for what had happened, and it hurt to see him like this, to see him so lost and conflicted. But at the same time, his words stung. They made you feel like a mistake, like what you had shared last night was something to be ashamed of, and that hurt more than anything.

“Dean, please”, you tried again, your voice trembling. “It wasn’t you. I wanted it. I’m not a kid anymore”.

He let out a bitter laugh, the sound devoid of any real humor. “You say that, but you don’t get it. I’m not just some guy, (Y/N). I’m your family, or at least I’m supposed to be. I shouldn’t have let this happen, no matter how much I wanted it”.

The admission that he had wanted it too made your heart skip a beat, but it was quickly overshadowed by the despair in his voice, the way he seemed to be drowning in his own guilt. You could see that he was struggling, that he was trying to push you away to protect you, but all it was doing was tearing both of you apart.

His gaze flickered with a mix of anger, guilt, and something deeper, something that hurt you even more because it was so tightly intertwined with his love for you. You watched as his fists clenched at his sides, the tension in his body nearly vibrating with the conflict inside him.

He shook his head again, more forcefully this time, as if trying to shake loose the thoughts that were tormenting him. His face twisted with disgust— at himself. “This is so damn wrong”, he muttered, more to himself than to you. “It’s disgusting”.

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. Disgusting. The word echoed in your mind, making you feel small and ashamed. You could see that he wasn’t directing the disgust at you, but it was hard not to internalize it, to not feel like everything that had happened was a mistake, something dirty and wrong.

“Dean, please don’t say that…”, you whispered, your voice trembling. “It wasn’t disgusting. It meant something. It—”.

But before you could finish, Dean turned away, his jaw tight, his expression twisted in a grimace of self-loathing. “I need to get out of here”, he said abruptly, cutting you off once more. The tone of his voice left no room for argument. He was shutting down, pulling away from you, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

He didn’t give you a chance to respond, didn’t wait to hear what you had to say. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving you standing there. The sound of the door closing behind him echoed through the empty house, a final punctuation to the words he had left unsaid.

As the silence settled in, you were left alone with your thoughts, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. The night before had felt like something special, something profound, but now it was tainted by the guilt and disgust Dean had thrown over it like a shadow. You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you fought them back, refusing to let yourself break down.

But as much as you tried to hold it together, the pain in your chest was overwhelming.

The realization of what you'd done, of how you'd pushed him, hit you with full force. You hated yourself for it—for crossing that line, for thinking that what happened between you could be anything more than a mistake. The tears started to flow, hot and unchecked, trailing down your cheeks as you fought to hold in the sobs that threatened to escape.

What had you been thinking? How could you have been so foolish? Dean had always seen you as his little sister, someone to protect, someone he loved but not in the way you had hoped. The weight of that realization crushed you, making it hard to breathe. You had ruined everything, tainted the relationship you cherished more than anything else.

Your lip quivered as more tears fell, and you could no longer stand to be out in the open, exposed and vulnerable. You quickly, but quietly, made your way back to your room, desperate for the sanctuary of your bed. Once inside, you locked the door behind you, needing to put a barrier between yourself and the rest of the world. You didn’t want to face anyone—not Dean, not Sam, not Jody or Claire or Alex. You couldn’t bear the thought of them seeing you like this, of knowing what you had done.

You crawled into bed, pulling the blanket over your head as if that could somehow shield you from the pain, from the guilt and the shame that was eating away at you. The tears kept coming, soaking the pillow beneath your head as you curled into a ball, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

You replayed the night in your mind over and over again, the moments that had felt so right now twisted and distorted by the harsh light of morning. You thought of Dean's words, of the look in his eyes when he called it disgusting, and the ache in your chest deepened. You felt like you had lost something precious, something irreplaceable, and you didn't know how to get it back.

The sobs finally broke free, muffled by the blanket as you cried into your pillow.

Eventually, the exhaustion from crying so hard began to take its toll, and your sobs quieted, replaced by a hollow emptiness. You stared at the wall, your eyes red and puffy, your heart feeling like it had been shattered into a million pieces. The self-loathing gnawed at you, making you feel like you didn’t deserve any comfort, any solace.

You lay there for what felt like hours, too drained to move, too defeated to care about anything else. All you wanted was to disappear, to escape from the reality of what you had done, and to forget that anything had ever happened.

By the time noon rolled around, the house was starting to come alive with the sounds of breakfast being prepared. The clatter of pots and pans, the sizzle of bacon on the stove, and the smell of pancakes filled the air, a stark contrast to the tension that had lingered the night before. Despite his best efforts to push the memories of the previous night aside, Dean found it hard to forget. The words he had said, the look on your face, the way you had clung to him—all of it haunted him.

He had spent the morning trying to distract himself, throwing himself into mundane tasks to keep his mind occupied, but it was no use. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you—saw the hurt in your eyes when he lashed out, saw the vulnerability that had been so raw and real. It tore at him, gnawed at his insides, but he didn’t know how to fix it. He wasn’t even sure if it could be fixed.

Finally, when the smell of bacon and pancakes became too enticing to ignore, he decided to head downstairs. The hunger gnawing at his stomach was a welcome distraction, something simple and easy to focus on.

As he descended the stairs, Dean was careful to look around, his eyes scanning the living room and kitchen for any sign of you. But you weren’t there. Instead, he found Jody at the stove, flipping pancakes with a practiced ease, while Sam poured coffee into mugs at the counter. Claire and Alex were sitting at the kitchen table, chatting animatedly, their voices carrying an easy, carefree tone that felt jarring compared to the heaviness in Dean’s chest.

“Morning, Dean”, Jody called out with a smile as she glanced over her shoulder at him. “You’re just in time. Pancakes are almost ready”.

Dean forced a smile, trying to match the lightness in her voice. “Morning. Smells great”. His voice sounded more normal than he felt, and he was grateful for the small victory.

Sam looked up from his coffee, giving Dean a curious look. “You sleep okay?”, he asked, his tone casual, but there was an edge of concern there, as if he could sense that something was off.

Dean shrugged, trying to keep it casual. “Yeah, just fine. You?”.

Sam nodded, but his eyes lingered on Dean for a moment longer, as if trying to read something in his expression. “Same here”.

Jody flipped another pancake onto the growing stack on a plate beside her, then turned to Dean with a curious look. "Where’s (Y/N)?", she asked, her voice casual but with a hint of concern beneath it.

Dean’s heart skipped a beat at the question. He knew this moment would come, but he wasn’t prepared for the rush of guilt that hit him when Jody asked about you. He forced himself to stay calm, to not let the turmoil he was feeling show on his face.

"I’m not sure", Dean replied, trying to sound nonchalant as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "She might still be upstairs. Probably just needed some extra sleep after last night".

Jody nodded, accepting his answer, but there was still a flicker of worry in her eyes. "I’ll save her some breakfast", she said, her voice gentle. "Maybe she just needs a little time to herself".

Dean nodded, grateful that Jody wasn’t pressing the issue further. The last thing he needed was for anyone to start asking questions he wasn’t ready to answer. He took a sip of his coffee, the warmth doing little to ease the cold knot of anxiety in his stomach.

As they all settled in to eat, Dean found it hard to concentrate on the conversation around the table. His mind kept drifting back to you—wondering if you were okay. He wanted to go up to your room, to talk to you, but he didn’t know what he would say, didn’t know if he could face the pain in your eyes again.

Jody must have noticed Dean’s distraction because she gave him a soft smile. "Dean, why don’t you take a plate up to (Y/N) when you’re done? She might appreciate the gesture".

Dean hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, I’ll do that", he said, though the thought of facing you after everything that had happened filled him with a sense of dread.

As the meal continued, Dean tried his best to engage in the conversation, but his mind was elsewhere. The thought of losing you, of damaging your relationship beyond repair, was almost too much to bear.

When breakfast was finally over, Dean took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he knew he needed to do. He loaded a plate with pancakes and bacon, then grabbed a fork before heading upstairs.

As he stood outside your door, his hand hovering over the doorknob, he hesitated. The fear of what he might find on the other side, the fear of seeing the hurt in your eyes again, almost made him turn back. But he knew he couldn’t avoid this forever. Taking a deep breath, he gently knocked on your door, hoping that you’d let him in.

Dean stood outside your door, his heart heavy with uncertainty as he waited for a response. When he finally heard your voice, it was soft, almost muffled, as you mumbled that you wanted to be alone and weren’t feeling well. The words stung more than he expected.

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his own emotions in check. “Alright”, he murmured through the door, his voice low and rough. “I’ll just leave your breakfast out here if you want it”. He placed the plate carefully on the floor in front of your door, lingering for a moment longer, hoping you might change your mind and open the door. But when nothing happened, he sighed quietly and turned away.

As he made his way back downstairs, his thoughts were a jumbled mess of guilt, regret, and a deep sadness that he couldn’t shake. He hated knowing that you were hurting, and he hated even more that he was the cause of it. The kitchen was still bustling with activity when he returned, the others chatting and laughing as they cleaned up from breakfast.

Dean forced a smile as he rejoined the group, though it felt hollow. “She’s not feeling well”, he said, his voice steady but lacking its usual warmth. “Just wants to rest for a while”.

Claire smirked and nudged Alex. “Probably has a killer hangover”, she teased, her tone lighthearted.

The others chuckled, and even Jody shook her head with a small smile. “Well, she did have a lot to drink last night”, Jody said, her tone motherly but amused. “I’m sure she’ll feel better after some rest”.

Dean nodded, playing along with the easy explanation, but his thoughts were far from lighthearted. He couldn’t shake the image of you, alone in your room, likely hurting far more than you were letting on. The guilt gnawed at him, a constant reminder of how badly he had messed things up.

As the others continued to clean up and chat, Dean found himself withdrawing, the conversation around him fading into the background.

You stayed in your room for the rest of the day, the walls around you feeling like both a sanctuary and a prison. The heaviness in your chest hadn’t lifted, and the thought of facing anyone, especially Dean, was too overwhelming. You tried to distract yourself, but every time you closed your eyes, you saw Dean’s face, heard his words, and felt the crushing weight of what had happened between you.

As the hours passed, the daylight faded, and the quiet of the evening settled over the house. You hadn’t moved from your bed, hadn’t even touched the breakfast Dean had left outside your door. The idea of eating made your stomach turn, and all you wanted was to be alone with your thoughts, no matter how painful they were.

The knock on your door startled you out of your daze. It was gentle, tentative, and after a moment, you heard Sam’s voice on the other side.

“(Y/N)?”, he called softly, his tone careful, as if he didn’t want to intrude. “It’s Sam. I brought you some dinner. Can you open the door for me?”.

You hesitated, the weight of the day pressing down on you. Part of you wanted to ignore him, to stay hidden away in your room and avoid everyone, but another part of you knew that Sam wouldn’t leave until he was sure you were okay. Sam had always been the more patient of the brothers, the one who could read between the lines, and you knew that if you didn’t answer, he would only worry more.

With a heavy sigh, you slowly got out of bed and made your way to the door. Your movements felt sluggish, your limbs heavy with exhaustion and the emotional toll of the day. When you reached the door, you paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before you finally opened it.

Sam stood there, holding a plate of food in one hand, his expression a mix of concern and understanding. He glanced down at the untouched breakfast plate still sitting on the floor and frowned slightly, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he looked up at you, his eyes soft with sympathy.

“Hey”, he said gently, offering you a small, reassuring smile. “Thought you might be hungry”.

You shook your head slightly, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m not, really. But… thanks”.

Sam hesitated for a moment, clearly torn between respecting your space and wanting to help. The concern in his eyes was palpable, and you could see that he was struggling with whether or not to press the issue. Finally, he let out a soft sigh, stepping a little closer but still keeping a respectful distance.

"(Y/N)", he began, his voice gentle and full of care, "I can tell something’s bothering you. You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready, but… I’m here if you need to. What’s going on?”.

You hesitated, your heart tightening in your chest. The last thing you wanted was to drag Sam into the mess that had unfolded between you and Dean. You knew Sam was just trying to help, but the thought of opening up about what had really happened felt impossible. It was too raw, too confusing, and you didn’t want to burden him with it.

Instead, you let out a heavy sigh and turned away, walking back over to your bed. You didn’t want to lie to Sam, but you couldn’t tell him the whole truth either. So you sat down on the edge of the bed, your shoulders slumping with the weight of everything you were carrying, and settled on telling him about something else that had been on your mind—Jake.

“It’s… it’s about Jake”, you finally said, your voice subdued. It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. "I thought… I thought maybe it was going somewhere, you know? But he sent me a message last night, saying he got back together with his ex. I guess it just… it hit me harder than I expected”.

Sam listened carefully, his brow furrowing in sympathy as he took in your words. He knew that this wasn’t the whole story, that there was more to your sadness than just Jake, but he also knew better than to push you when you weren’t ready to open up.

“I’m really sorry, (Y/N)”, he said softly, his tone filled with understanding. “I know that kind of thing can hurt, especially when you’re hoping for something more. But it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you. Sometimes things just don’t work out the way we want them to”.

You nodded, appreciating his attempt to comfort you, even though your heart wasn’t entirely in it. Jake’s message had hurt, yes, but it wasn’t the real reason you were feeling so lost and broken.

Sam seemed to sense that you weren’t ready to dive deeper, and so he didn’t push further. Instead, he offered you a small, reassuring smile. “If you need anything, or if you want to talk more later, I’m here. We all are”.

You managed a weak smile in return, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks, Sam. I appreciate it”.

With that, Sam gave you one last concerned look before quietly leaving the room, closing the door softly behind him. As soon as he was gone, you felt the weight of everything settle over you once more. The loneliness, the confusion, the pain of what had happened with Dean—it all came crashing back, leaving you feeling hollow and lost.

You curled up on the bed once more, pulling the blanket around you like a cocoon, trying to shut out the world and the emotions swirling inside you.

Down in the living room, the atmosphere was quieter than usual. The group had gathered to watch a movie, but the usual lighthearted banter and jokes were noticeably absent. The tension from earlier still hung in the air, and despite their best efforts, everyone could feel the underlying unease that hadn’t yet been resolved.

Dean sat a bit apart from the others, nursing a glass of whiskey. He was trying to focus on the movie, but his thoughts kept drifting back to you—upstairs, alone, hurting. He hated how things had gone, hated that he’d been the one to push you away when you needed him the most. The whiskey burned as it went down, but it did little to numb the guilt that gnawed at him.

When Sam finally returned from upstairs, the look on his face said everything. He sighed heavily as he approached the group, clearly concerned but trying to respect your need for space.

“She said she wants to be alone for a bit”, Sam informed the others, his voice low. “She’s upset about Jake. Apparently, he got back with his ex. She’s taking it pretty hard”.

The others exchanged sympathetic looks, their concern for you evident. Claire and Alex were particularly quiet, their usual energy subdued as they processed what Sam had said. Jody frowned, her motherly instincts kicking in as she glanced toward the stairs, clearly wanting to go check on you herself but respecting your need for privacy.

Dean felt a sinking sensation in his gut as Sam’s words sank in. The realization hit him hard—this was why you had wanted to go home last night. You were hurting over Jake, and in your vulnerable state, he had… Dean couldn’t even finish the thought. The guilt that had been simmering all day boiled over, and he felt like he had taken advantage of you, even if that hadn’t been his intention. He should have known better. He should have been there for you as a friend, as the person who was supposed to protect you—not complicate things further.

He hesitated, his mind racing with what he should do next. Sitting there, wallowing in guilt, wasn’t going to help anyone—especially not you. You were upstairs, hurting, and he knew he needed to make this right. But how? The mess he’d made wasn’t something that could be easily fixed with a few words or a simple apology. It was deeper than that.

Finally, he made up his mind. He couldn’t leave things the way they were. You deserved better than that. He stood up, setting his whiskey glass down with a bit more force than necessary, causing the others to look up at him in surprise.

“I’ll go talk to her”, Dean mumbled, his voice rough with determination. He needed to do this, to at least try and make amends. “Don’t wait up for me”.

No one argued with him, though the concern in their eyes was clear. Jody gave him a small, encouraging nod, while Sam watched him with that careful, knowing look that only a brother could give. Dean didn’t wait for any further response. He turned and headed for the stairs, his heart pounding as he made his way to your room.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked softly. “It’s me”, he said quietly, not sure if you’d even want to see him. “Can I come in?”.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he heard the faint sound of movement from the other side of the door. The lock clicked, and the door opened just a crack. Dean’s heart twisted at the sight of your face peeking out at him, your eyes red and swollen from crying.

You didn’t say anything, just looked at him with a mixture of emotions that made his chest tighten. He didn’t wait for an invitation; he stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him.

Dean hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest as he took in the sight of you standing there, looking so lost and small. The room was heavy with the weight of unspoken words and emotions, and he wasn’t sure how to begin, how to navigate the tangled mess that lay between you now.

You kept your gaze fixed on the floor, your arms wrapped around yourself as if trying to hold yourself together. The sight of you like this—so vulnerable, so clearly hurting—made Dean’s chest tighten with guilt and regret.

He stumbled over his words, the usual confidence in his voice faltering as he finally spoke. “Is..Is it really about Jake?”, he asked, his voice rough and uncertain. “Or… is it… about me?”.

The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded with meaning. He wasn’t sure what he expected you to say, wasn’t even sure if he wanted to hear the answer. But he knew he needed to ask it, needed to understand what was really going on between you.

You didn’t respond right away, your silence only adding to the tension in the room. Dean took a tentative step closer, his heart aching as he watched you. He wanted to reach out, to pull you into his arms and make everything better, but he knew it wasn’t that simple. Nothing about this was simple.

Finally, you lifted your head, meeting his gaze with tear-filled eyes. The raw emotion in your expression made his heart clench, and he knew, in that moment, that this wasn’t about Jake.

You bit your lip, trying to keep it from trembling, but it was no use. Fresh tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as the weight of everything came crashing down on you. The memory of Dean’s words from earlier—the way he had called what happened between you “disgusting”—echoed in your mind, making the ache in your chest even worse.

Unable to stand any longer, you let yourself sink down onto the edge of your bed, your legs feeling too weak to support you. The shame, the confusion, and the overwhelming sadness you felt were almost too much to bear. You wanted to say something, to explain, but the words caught in your throat, choked by the emotions that were threatening to spill over.

Dean watched you, his heart breaking as he saw the tears streaming down your face. The sight of you like this—so lost, so hurt—made him feel like the worst person in the world. He had never meant to make you feel this way, never meant to cause you this kind of pain. But he had, and now he didn’t know how to fix it.

He took another step closer, hesitating for a moment before kneeling down in front of you. He wanted to be on your level, to show you that he wasn’t above you, wasn’t trying to distance himself from you.

Dean hesitated for a moment, his hands hovering uncertainly before he finally reached out and gently took your hands in his. The contact was warm, comforting in a way, but it also carried the weight of everything that had passed between you. He swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion, as he tried to find the right words to explain the turmoil inside him.

"This… this can never lead anywhere", he started, his voice low and strained. The words seemed to hurt him as much as they hurt you, but he forced them out, knowing he had to say them. "I'm twenty years older than you, (Y/N). I’m supposed to be protecting you, looking out for you… like a brother. That’s what I’m supposed to be. Not this”.

His grip on your hands tightened slightly, as if he was trying to anchor himself, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions that were tearing him apart. "You're just confused right now", he continued, his voice trembling. "With everything that's happened—with Jake and all that… You're hurting, and I get that. But this isn’t the answer. I can’t… we can’t let this go any further".

You could feel his hands shaking slightly as he spoke, and the tears that had been welling up in your eyes finally spilled over, running down your cheeks. You had known, deep down, that this was what he was going to say, but hearing the words still cut through you like a knife.

"It's not about Jake. It’s… it’s about you. How I feel about you", you whispered, your voice breaking.

Dean closed his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face as he struggled with your words. "You think that now", he said, his voice rough. "But you’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you. You don’t want to be tied down to someone like me. You deserve better. You deserve someone who can give you a future, someone who isn’t…".

He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, his eyes opening to meet yours, filled with a sadness that made your heart ache even more. "I can’t be that person for you", he finished quietly. "As much as I might… I.. I can’t".

The pain in his voice was almost unbearable, and you could see how much he was struggling to keep his emotions in check. But despite everything he was saying, despite the barriers he was trying to put up between you, there was a part of you that couldn’t let go, couldn’t accept that this was how things had to be.

You shook your head, fresh tears spilling over as you tried to make him understand. "Dean, it’s not about age, or what’s supposed to happen. I know what I want, and I’m not just confused. I’m not a kid anymore".

Dean’s grip on your hands tightened, his expression torn. "But I’m supposed to protect you from things like this", he whispered, his voice hoarse. "From me. I can’t… I can’t do this to you, (Y/N). It’s not right".

The room was thick with the weight of unspoken words and unfulfilled desires. You could see the conflict in Dean’s eyes, the way he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince you. And yet, despite everything, the connection between you— the emotions that had been building for so long—remained, a stubborn flame that refused to be extinguished.

In that moment, you realized that no matter what he said, no matter how hard he tried to push you away, the feelings you had for each other weren’t going to disappear. They were too deep, too real. But whether or not you could ever act on them was a question neither of you had an answer to.

"Please", Dean said, his voice barely more than a whisper, filled with anguish. "Please don’t make this harder than it already is".

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you both sat there in silence, holding onto each other as if you were afraid to let go.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, and your breath hitched as you gathered the courage to ask the question that had been burning in the back of your mind. It was a question you were terrified to know the answer to, but you knew you couldn’t move forward without asking it. Your voice broke as you whispered, the words trembling on your lips, “Dean..do you… do you like me?”.

You looked up at Dean through tear-filled lashes, your gaze searching his face for any sign of what he might be feeling. The vulnerability in your eyes was mirrored in his own, but there was also a deep sadness that made your chest tighten.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

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Part 10

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Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @ladykitana90 @fullbelieverheart @chainsawsangel @zaratahir @rebecca-hvnstn @maackiimoo @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @lachelledavies-winchester @kamisobsessed @kr804573 @c1gs-coffee @fyegyall @lilbloggs

[multifandomfix]

Imagine Snape taking care of your daughter so you can sleep in.

The room is still and quiet, wrapped in the soft shadows of early morning. You barely stir as the sound of the door creaks open, then shuts with careful precision. Somewhere in the haze of near wakefulness, you hear Severus’ deep, gravelly voice. Low, soothing, and unmistakably calm.

“Shh,” he murmurs. “Your mummy is sleeping.”

Your toddler’s giggle follows, light as a bell, and you imagine her perched on his hip, her tiny fingers likely tugging on his hair or the edge of his robes. You keep your eyes closed, a rare opportunity to let yourself drift back into slumber without worry. Severus is here. He’ll handle her.

From the hallway, the muffled sounds of his footsteps retreat, and you catch snippets of his soft spoken commentary. “No, you may not chew on the hem of my robe. That’s hardly sanitary… Yes, you may have juice, but only after breakfast. That is non negotiable.”

You smile faintly into the pillow, but your body stays heavy, reluctant to break the spell of much needed rest.

Time slips by, and when you finally stir again, you realize the house is quiet. It takes a moment to push yourself upright, the lingering pull of exhaustion still clinging to you. Padding toward the living room, you find the two of them there, Severus seated in the armchair, your daughter nestled in his arms, clutching a soft, worn blanket as if it were her most prized possession.

He’s reading to her.

His voice is even, steady, and somehow softer than you ever thought possible for him. There’s no trace of the sharpness he wields so well in the classroom, no biting dry wit. Instead, his words are deliberate, gentle, as if the weight of his love for her exists in every syllable.

Your daughter shifts in his lap, leaning her cheek against his chest. He adjusts her automatically, one arm curling protectively around her, and continues reading without pause.

You lean against the doorframe, unnoticed, letting the moment sink into your heart. This is Severus Snape as only you and your daughter will ever know him —a man who softens when he thinks no one is looking, who allows himself to be vulnerable, just for her.

When he finally looks up and sees you, his expression doesn’t change, but there’s a flicker of something warm in his eyes. “You’re awake,” he says quietly, as if reluctant to disturb the peaceful scene he’s created.

“I am,” you reply, voice still husky from sleep. “Thank you.”

He nods once, returning his attention to the little girl now dozing in his arms. “I’ll let you handle the next tantrum,” he says dryly, but the corner of his mouth twitches with a hint of a smile.

You walk over and press a kiss to his temple, resting your hand briefly on your daughter’s soft curls. “Deal,” you whisper.

And in that moment, everything feels exactly as it should.

Forever Tag: @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @aperol-with-izzy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @lakita-fisher, @trexsuit, @analuw, @luvlesavyy, @malfoyfeed, @aliciabrower, @sparrowspixie, @imaginationismyworldlypleasure, @og-kxsh-420

Severus Snape: @brienneseveruscalaway, @darkthought15, @superninjapervert420, @meeksmusic83, @whither-the-wind-goes, @eternal-silvertongued-prince, @unexpected-character, @yourdailymemedelivery, @impulse-anchor, @becomingthedreamversionofme, @bloodinthedarksworld, @gothtrash6969, @music-bird, @severusish, @chaotic-mushroomz, @iciclesandsnow, @thenazwife, @phantomofclownery, @animeloverfreak310, @m-rae23, @asocialrandom, @beyondgaby, @scarlettmal, @icanotbelieve, @bibliosophie, @saranasr, @strawberrycakeblog, @wynt3rrr, @geekyandgay98, @pink-sunrise-56, @sweetyprincesschaos, @witchthewriter, @anarrowtotheknee, @thekirbishow, @lannister-apologist

[anyamaris]

Morning Glory

Summary-Your best friend comes over after an unexpected visit from your cheating ex, and a night of comfort produces something unexpected.

Pairing-BFF!Yeosang x F!Reader

Genre/Trope-Smut, non idol au

Word count-4.5k

Warnings-Mentions of cheating (ex), some emotions due to break up, vulgarity, adult language, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie, some iffy touching while you're both half asleep, NSFW 18+

A/N-This is for the Language of Flowers event for CultofDionysusnet! I hope you enjoy, I've been struggling a bit with writers block so I'm happy to put something out for this event! Make sure to check out the other entries!

Tags- @cultofdionysusnet @ksmutsociety @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @yoonguurt @shinestarhwaa @stardragongalaxy @kpop-stories-21 @starlitmark@millennial-fangirl @ericssmile @wooahaeproductions@changbinslovelylegs @yeosxxx @millennial-fangirl @starillusion13 @duchesskaren @minki-moo @woosanbby

@cafekitsune Thank you for banners and dividers! 🤍💜🤍

It’s been three months. 

Three whole months…

Three months full of shock, pain, sobbing, anger, guilt, and finally, acceptance.

A quarter of a year of your life spent lamenting the almost two years spent with someone who threw away everything without a second thought.

They say time is all you need to move on, but what they don’t tell you is the amount of regret that is left lingering.

How the hindsight can hurt you more than the breakup itself.  

How you blame yourself for the time wasted, for the signs you never saw.  

How you start to rethink the things you thought you knew.  

Words like, “I love you” and “I promise” become both fleeting and weighted.  

All of these thoughts swirl in your mind as you stare into the face of the man who caused this turmoil.

No, that’s wrong.

All he did was cheat on you, lie to you and walk away without batting an eyelash.  

Suppressing a cynical laugh, you just stare into the face of your betrayer.  

His eager smile doesn’t evoke the tickle in your tummy like it used to.

His handsome, sheepish face doesn’t make you want to rush into his arms like before.

“Hi.” 

Once upon a time, that simple line would have you opening the door further and inviting him in, your deceitful mind telling you that he must have a good reason.

Unfortunately for him, the you that used to cave to his ridiculous lies and excuses doesn’t exist anymore.

“What do you want?” Your voice is harsh, a frown tugging at your lips.

You’d be lying if you said he didn’t evoke any emotions in you.  

You feel the hand on the door shake as you grip it harder, anger coursing through you.

“I…I missed you.  Can I come in to talk?” He asks, the arm behind his back slipping around to present you with a small bouquet of flowers.

“Look, I brought your favorites.”

Frowning at the offering, you can only blink at them. 

Not once has he given you flowers. 

Not one time.

Scoffing, you stay where you are, blocking the entrance.

“My favorites? Do you even know my favorite flower?” 

Though they are pretty, the roses are far from your favorite flower.  The very fact that he chose red roses too was so cliche.  

You wince at the rage making your voice shake.  

Dear god, please don’t let him think I’m getting sad over him.

“Uhhh…flowers are flowers, right?” He asks, shrugging a shoulder and brushing his hair back.  

“Look, I don’t know why you came here of all places.  But you’re not welcome.” 

You begin to close the door in his face, but he lunges forward, stopping you before you can escape him.

“Wait-I know we didn’t end on the best of terms-” 

Your laugh halts him momentarily, rolling your eyes at his choice of words.

“-look…all couples take a break-” he’s continuing but you’re done listening.

“Stop. One, we are not a couple.  We broke up.”  You hold your hand up to halt his retort.

“Two, you cheated on me.”  

He frowns at your fingers as you hold them up, counting his mistakes.  

“But-”

“Three, there is nothing you could possibly say or do that would have me opening this door to you.  I suggest you find someone else’s door to go knock on, because you’re not welcome here.” 

You give him a good shove to remove him from the doorway and slam the door, leaning back against it as you hug yourself.

Jumping at his loud pounding, you can only let out a shaky sigh.  

“Go away, seriously.”

“Look, I made a mistake, we love each other-” 

You snort at his words, cutting him off. 

“The only person you love is yourself, so fuck off.”  

Walking away from the door and his ridiculous protests, you make your way to your shower to wash off the ick from seeing him again.

Emerging from the bathroom, you listen for a few and smile as silence greets you.  

“Finally.  Idiot.” you mutter, but you sigh as you feel your body shake from the encounter.  

The sheer audacity of him, showing up with roses like that would immediately evaporate all of the pain and hurt he caused-

Your mind whirls as you clench your fists.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a ding from your phone.

Hesitant to check it, you slowly make your way to look at the screen.

Letting out a soft sigh, your body relaxes slightly as you read the text from your best friend. 

“If Wooyoung asks, I have absolutely no idea what happened to his favorite hoodie.” 

Your lips curl as you shake your head, drying your hair as you remember the fate of said hoodie.  

“Sure, you definitely didn’t use it as a mop when you spilled that drink last week.”

��I have no idea what you mean.” You get back and you just sigh, tossing on some pajamas. 

“Sure thing, no idea.” you respond, chewing your lip as you ponder if you should tell him about your unwanted visitor.

Yeosang had been there through everything, through the relationship, through the breakup, through the aftermath.  

He’d been your rock, and now….

Now you selfishly wanted to vent at him, to have him comfort you and calm you down.  

“Is everything okay?” he sends and you blink at the text.  

“I swear, he reads my mind.” you hum as you stare at the phone.

Giving in to your instincts you just send him one word.

“No.”

A moment passes, then your phone lights up, ringing with the familiar song you have set to him.

Before it can ring twice you answer, holding the phone to your ear without a word.

“What happened?” His voice washes over you like a warm blanket, the deep tone seeming to uncork the stress, the distilled pain you’ve been holding in.

Instead of answering, when you open your mouth, all that comes out is a sob.  

“Hey-hey-what happened? Are you hurt?”  His words are laced with panic and you collect yourself enough to reply.

“No…I’m okay, I think.  He showed up.  At my door.”  

Silence greets you from the other end, and a slight rustling is heard as you do your best to try to calm down, covering your mouth with your free hand.

Before the call cuts out, he utters a simple phrase that has relief flooding through you.

“I’m on my way.”

“Shh, it’s okay.  It’s okay to cry, really.” Yeosang is saying, his hand rubbing your back as you both sit on your couch.  

He’d gotten over to your place in record time, so quickly that you thought the pounding was him coming back.

“I’m sick of crying, Yeosang.” You get out, leaning into him as he nods at you.  

His eyes are full of concern, and what you hope is care and not pity.  

Of everyone, Yeosang was the last person you wanted to pity you.  

He meant far too much to you for that.

“What the fuck did he even want? Showing up at your door-” he blurts out, clenching his fist on his thigh.  

“He…I think he was trying to crawl back here, his other girlfriend must have kicked his ass out.” You tell him, wiping at your nose with the tissue in your hand.

You smile as you watch Yeosang purse his lips, not saying a word.  

He’d never truly expressed what he thought of your ex, and you had a feeling he’d never actually liked him much.

At least one of you was smart, you think.

“He even brought flowers.  Fucking roses, like they would fix everything.  Fucking asshole.” 

Yeosang just listens, taking the tissue to replace it with a fresh one.  

“The first time he ever brings me flowers, and he brings me roses after three months of silence and cheating and-” you just shake your head, irritated at the whole situation.

“He said they were my favorite too.  I wonder if he even remembers anything I like.”  You continue, finally feeling a bit of relief after venting to your friend.

Yeosang just sighs, reaching out to brush a tendril of hair back, holding up the glass of water he’d gotten for you when he arrived.  

As you drink, he just watches you, finally speaking after you set it down.

“Come on, let’s watch something.  It’ll help you relax.  How about your favorite? Princess Bride?” He asks, grabbing the remote to scroll through your many apps on the television.

“You’re sick of that one, aren’t you?” Eyeing him, you can’t help but smile.  

A small stirring of your old crush on him teases your mind, but you push it down.

Must be my stupid emotions, you think, watching as he puts the movie on.

He holds out his arm, allowing you to snuggle against him as you normally do.  

“If it’ll make you smile, I’ll happily watch it twenty more times.”  He grins, tossing a blanket over you as you make yourself comfortable on him.  

Watching the beginning scene, you look up at him.

“How come you never say anything about him when I complain? It must get old.” You ask, blinking at him.

Yeosang just looks at you, his honey brown eyes studying you as he seems to think about his answer.

After a moment, he just shakes his head.

“I want to hurt anyone who hurts you.  So anything I have to say isn’t going to help what you’re going through. Now pay attention, Buttercup.” 

He boops your nose as he gestures to the screen, smiling as you let out a soft laugh.

His words have an effect on you that seeing your ex doesn’t and you push them down as you get lost in the movie with your best friend.

The first thing you become aware of is the distant rumble of thunder.  

Then, the soft pattering of rain upon glass, soothing you as you inhale deeply

Stirring, you adjust as you try to get comfortable.

The blanket over you is soft and warm, as is the body underneath you.

With your eyes closed and sleep hazing the edges of your brain, you snuggle deeper into the strong arms around you.  

Drawing your leg up, you nuzzle your face into the soft material beneath it.

A familiar scent tantalizes your senses as you inhale deeply. The light scent of blackberry, bay leaves and sandalwood soothes you, and you can’t help but cling to the fabric of his shirt as you bury your face into his chest.

Yeosang.

Your sleep addled brain whispers the name as you press closer to him, your body moving instinctively before you can think anything through. 

Was he always this…built? Where did these muscles come from?

Your hands seem to have a mind of their own as they skim down his side, splaying out over his stomach.  

A soft murmur greets your ears, a deep humming stirs beneath your cheek as his arms tighten ever so slightly around you.  

Was he awake? 

Your hand stills, feeling your cheeks heat as the fog slowly clears from your brain.  

Slowly, you take stock of where you are, how you ended up here.

You’d fallen asleep on the couch watching the movie, you realize.

You were laying half on his chest, his arm wrapped around beneath you with your leg draped over one of his own.

His other arm was tossed over your side, your cheek pressed to his chest above his heart.  

The rhythmic thump under your ear is calming, and your lips twitch as the soft sigh that escapes him as he slumbers.  

Pervert, were you really trying to feel up your best friend? You think to yourself.

In his sleep, no less.

It’s been far too long since you’ve been intimate with anyone, and your body seems to have a mind of its own.

Traitor. Perverted, horrible traitor.

It’s fine, just errant thoughts.  Nothing you hadn’t thought before of him.

As long as they were just thoughts.

But it was different right? Being pressed so close to him, feeling the way your bodies fit together. 

How if you just slipped your hand down-

Your mind takes a moment to command you to stop, freezing you as his breath hitches.

You close your eyes, trying to calm the racing thoughts in your mind, the throbbing need that seems to be increasing the longer you lay like this.  

You stiffen as he shifts slightly under you, his hand splaying out on your side.  

A heat flushes your cheeks at how he lifts his leg, his thigh pressing between your legs as he adjusts, drawing out a small involuntary whimper from your throat.

Dear lord, you think, this is NOT helping your plight.

It didn’t help that the sleep shorts you were wearing had shifted slightly during your sleep. 

Not to mention that you weren’t wearing panties… 

Now the thin fabric was riding up, the way you were laying on them teasing at your core as your hips instinctively rock against his thigh before you can stop yourself.

Your heart seems to beat in your throat as you glance up at him, the angle you’re at allowing you to see his pretty lashes in the moonlight.  

Was he sleeping? Did he know how you were reacting to his innocent movements in his sleep?

Did he know what a bad friend you were, thinking about getting off on him as he slept beneath you?

You study him as his lips part, his tongue darting out to wet them.

At the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.  

At the curve of his pectoral muscles…

Your gaze just slowly takes him in, raking down his body.  

You just need to extract yourself from him, make a quick exit to your room.  

To take care of this aching need that is driving you to these depraved thoughts.

Decided, you shift to pull back from him, slipping your hand up his chest to find the outside of the couch, intending to crawl over him.  

Before you even find a spot for leverage, his hand slips down the curve of your side, your hip, grasping your ass gently.  

“Mmm…” he murmurs and you freeze as he shifts again, causing you to bury your face into his neck.  

“Yeosang?” You manage to squeak out, inhaling sharply as his hips tilt.  

“Uhh…?” His sleep rasped voice brushes in your ear as he seems to come around.

Dear god, he’s not even awake and he’s-

The sharp intake of breath is paired with his hand slipping along your ass as he hikes your thigh up over him.

Fuck…you were straddling him.  

Double fuck, you were definitely very aroused from this and you needed to get away quickly before-

Suddenly, as his hands grip your cheeks to rock you against him, you realize how very hard he is.  

“Fuck-” He hisses as you draw back, your lust clouded brain screaming for you to wake him completely, to tell him that it’s you; that he’s-

Every thought following flies from your mind as his hand slips between your ass from behind, his fingers taking advantage of the way your shorts have shifted to expose your very wet core.  

There’s no time to muffle the moan that leaves your lips, no time to stop your legs from parting eagerly; no time to stop your hips from jerking against him, rubbing your naked sensitive nub against his rough jeans. 

Your cheeks burn with a mixture of lust and shame, knowing his body is likely reacting instinctively.  

“Yeosang-” You try again, pulling back slightly to see if you can wake him, to stop this-

His dark brown eyes meet yours in the dim moonlight, his lips parted as his fingers slip further down, fingertips dipping daringly into your now clenching cunt.

For a moment, all you can both do is look at one another as you hold tight to him, his eyes searching yours.

The silence is broken by your shameless whimper, your hips grinding down against him as he gives you a little grin.

“Should I stop?” He asks, his voice hoarse from sleep, though he continues to tease at your hole with shallow dips of his fingers.  

The hand on your ass squeezes gently, making it extremely hard to think.  

“Yeosang, I-” you try to say but then one of his fingers slips further into you, causing you to moan softly.  

“Is this because of me…or were you having a wet dream?” His eyes dance as he watches your face, seeming to enjoy the fact that you can’t form proper words.  

“You-but…oh god…” you whine as the hand on your ass slips over to yank your shorts farther from your crotch and you can hear a slight tearing noise as the material gives.

Something about the hungry look in his eyes, the soft rip of your flimsy shorts, the way his finger curls as your walls pulse around him tips you over the edge. 

His eyes widen as your mouth smashes against his, but they flutter softly as his tongue meets yours eagerly.

Your fingers twist up into the soft strands of his hair, tugging gently as a small growl leaves his throat.  

“No-don’t-fucking-stop-” you manage between breaths, your free hand slipping down to tug at his shirt.

Desperation suddenly takes over, and before you know it, his fingers part from your aching cunt and he’s lifting your hips, both of you clawing at the button on his jeans.  

You watch him as he watches both of your hands, his chest rising and falling rapidly.  

Following his gaze, you can’t help but bite your lip as he manages to finally unzip, then push down his pants.  

You can’t help but reach eagerly for his thick, rigid length as he tugs his boxer briefs down.  

All logical thought is gone as you hear his low, deep groan as your fingers slip along the silky skin of his cock.

There’s nothing slow or tentative about the way he grabs your hip, the way you guide him to your throbbing entrance.  

The way you cry out as he pulls you down, the way you stretch deliciously around him.

The quiet room fills with the combined sounds of your moans, the slapping sound of your bodies meeting as his hips tilt and thrust, guiding your own as you reach up to grab his shoulder.

“That’s it, that’s it baby,” he groans, and you can feel the material of his underwear gathering your arousal as you leak down on them.  

You shudder as one of his hands yanks up your shirt, awkwardly trying to help him shed the offending garment.  

Tossing it to the side, his lips waste no time latching onto your nipple, his teeth scraping the sensitive flesh as he licks and sucks.

“Oh my god-” you cry out, feeling the tight knot in your abdomen ache. 

His mouth leaves your breast with soft pop, his breathing harsh as he looks up at you, his hips never faltering to meet yours.

“Yeah, baby? You like my cock?” His voice is deep and shaky, his pupils blown from lust as he grips your hair to force you to look at him as he thrusts even harder up into you.

“Fuck-Yeosang, I fucking love it-please-!” your brain fogs as his arm slips around your waist, holding you tight as he begins to set the pace.  

“Please what? Hmm?” He rasps out, his own moans peppering his speech as his fingers dig into your hip.  

“Tell me, baby.  Tell me what it is you want, hmm?  I’ll give you everything you want, you just have to ask-”

His words pause as he dips down to take your other nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly at the bud.

“Harder-” you cry out, “Feels so fucking good, I’m gonna-” 

At your words, he suddenly sits up, tipping you onto your back as he follows, guiding your legs around his hips.  

He somehow manages to keep himself deep inside of you, his form hovering over you now in the dark room.  

He tears his own shirt off before he’s pressing himself against you, your breasts squashed between you both.

“As you wish, Buttercup-” He growls, slipping his hand under your ass to tilt your hips up, his own setting a pace that leaves you breathless.

The sight of him above you, the feral gleam in his eyes as his cock seems to drag your quivering walls in all the right ways has your vision blurring at the edges.

Crying out, you rake your fingernails down his back and the way his eyes roll at the sensation has you rushing quickly towards alleviating the ache slowly bubbling within you.

“Yeah? Right there? You look so fucking good taking my cock, baby.” His deep voice paired with those words begins the first quiver of your impending orgasm.

“Right fucking there, harder-please-don’t stop, Yeosang!” You scream as you feel his body react to your words, to your slick walls pulsing around him.

“Come for me, that’s it-” he moans, the motion of his hips beginning to stutter, each thrust punctuated by a word. “Let me-see you-come around me with that-tight little cunt-” 

Your mouth opens on a long wail as you clamp around him, your entire body stiffening as you quake under the sensation.  

Your fingers grasp at his back and shoulders frantically as you chase your high as his pelvis grinds down into your clit, every nerve ending in your body seeming to fire all at once.

“Fuck, you look-so fucking beautiful-” his erratic breathing and moans suddenly hitch as he thrusts hard and deep, a long whimper escaping his throat.

His body stiffens as you feel his cock pulse over and over as he spills hot come within you, your name falling from his lips like a mantra.

Slowly, all of the noises die down as the early morning silence creeps back in.  

The thunder and rainfall from before has quieted.

Only the sounds of your labored breathing, of his muted pants and grunts as he slowly collapses on top of you hang in the air.

Bringing a shaking hand up to comb through his damp locks, you lean your cheek against his.  

“Yeosang?” You murmur, greeted with only a small whine in reply.

“Don’t say it.” He finally whispers, burying his face into your neck.

Confused, you pause your movements through his hair, your hand stilling on his back.

After a moment you merely reply, “Say what?”

“That this was a mistake. That you’re sorry.” he responds quickly, pulling back to look in your eyes, his own shifting and studying you.

“But I-”  you start, frowning but he cuts you off.

“I don’t care if you need comfort, I don’t care if you need to get your ex out of your head.” his eyes are pained, and you can only listen as he rambles.

“It doesn’t have to be anything if you don’t want it to be, but I’ve-” 

His throat works as the morning sun starts to illuminate his beautiful brown strands, kissing the honey of his skin and making him appear as glorious as any fictional god.

“-I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.”

His words take your breath away, and you can feel tears pricking your eyes as you blink in shock.

Brushing back his hair, you swallow back  a small sob as you bring his lips to yours, reveling in his confession.

The soft yellows and oranges start to light the room even as time seems to stop, the night's events culminating in this wonderful revelation.

By the time you part, the day is fully upon both of you.  

Clothing litters the area around you and you can feel the mixture of your releases leaking out from where he’s finally slipped out of you.  

His brow is furrowed as he takes you in, and you can see the hint of worry in his eyes as you begin to speak.

“The only thing I’m sorry about…” you say, feeling your cheeks heat, “...is getting touchy with you in your sleep….”

The silence lingers between you for a moment before it’s broken by his silly little giggle.

He leans down to peck your lips, rolling you both to the side as he cradles you in his arms.

“Is that all?” he asks, his voice deep and low as he nuzzles your cheek.

You close your eyes, your heart surging as his words finally seem to actually hit you fully.

“You…you love me?”  you ask him, pulling back to look at him fully.  

His cheeks stain with a hint of red as he nods, his eyes darting away.  

Cupping his cheek, you tilt his head back so his eyes meet yours once more.

“My ex has nothing to do with anything, Yeosang.  Long before him….it was you.”  

He blinks as he processes your own confession, then his lips are on yours once more.  

Not many words are spoken after, throughout the day and into the evening as you both finally express the long held back emotions for one another.

When you get a delivery of morning glories the next day at work, you swear everything you’ve gone through has been worth it.  

Of course, you think, wiping your eyes.  Of course he knew your favorite flower.

Pulling out the card, you can only let the tears roll down your cheeks at the words that stir your very soul.

“From the moment you came into my life, I knew it was always going to be you.  From your favorite food to the way your eyes dance when you laugh, I’ve memorized every aspect of you.  The good, the bad and everything in between, it’s always been you.  I’ve weathered the dormancy of winter while I waited for you; now that the spring has begun, let’s tend this garden together and watch our love bloom. As the flower implies, this is my promise.  Whether your petals are open to warm yourself in the morning sun, or withered by the evening, you will forever be my morning glory.”

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 30 - Apology Sex]

Pairing: service switch!Yoongi x switch f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Vampires!AU, Magic!AU

Kinks: he kneels for her & crawls to her, foot & leg worship, cunnilingus, hair pulling (m.receiving), strength kink, sex on a piano, vaginal fingering, he wants to kiss her but gets denied so harddd, Kook makes a non-sexual appearance bahahah, healthy communication, loving aftercare

Wordcount: 3.9k

a/n: you really said "what if OC gets jealous because of Fringella?" and to that i say"what then?" 🤪

You don’t know why exactly you are at his wing after what he did, but here you are. The chandelier illuminates the music room while the rest of his wing is dark. The curtains behind you are pulled closed, deforming the melodies you are playing. 

They come easy to you tonight, leaving your fingers angrily because this is exactly how you were feeling. 

Angry.

Angry at the music, angry at this room and angry at Yoongi. You and he were supposed to go out tonight, but he cancelled last minute to meet Fringella instead. Bear in mind, the meeting is strictly business according to him, but it still pisses you off. Out of all the people on this earth, he stands you up for Fringella, the biggest Bitch in the universe. And that says a lot because you normally refrain from calling other women this word. It fits her however. If you could, you would change the word “bitch” to her name and it would practically be the same thing. Not only is she heartless, mean and rude, she is also one of his old lovers. Granted, it was a long time ago and he was a different person back then, but Fringella still likes to rub it in whenever she sees you that Yoongi was able to be entirely himself with her, vampire gluttony and all. And that he will always have to hold back with you.

Oh lord, how you hate this bitch. 

Your fingers slam down on the keys, the candles on the piano flicker angrily as you let the emotion flow through you. 

The longer you think about it, the angrier you get, forcing the music to cut the air in fury. 

You like to consider yourself not a jealous lover. Of course you have your moments, like any person has, but generally you aren’t a jealous lover. When it comes to Yoongi and Fringella, however, you are the most jealous person to ever exist. In your imagination, they are currently having the most intense vampire sex ever. In your imagination, he tells her how she “really gets him”. In your imagination, he kisses her afterwards and calls her beautiful. 

“Urgh, this is stupid”, you growl, hitting the keys with your hand. 

The piano complains in shrill, loud sounds. 

“What did the poor piano do to you?”

You lift your eyes to the person standing in the doorway. 

Yoongi, still dressed in his leather jacket and jeans, is leaning against it with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“You changed out of your dress.”

“Don’t talk to me”, you hiss, looking away. You begin playing again, doing so loudly and with anger. 

Yoongi lifts his hands in defeat.

“Geez, sorry. I didn’t know that I was on the naughty list too.”

“Oh, piss off.”

“You’re the one in my wing. You can always leave.” 

His pissy tone hurts. Granted, you were the one who started it but he was supposed to be asking questions not throw the anger back at you. The jealousy and insecurity you were feeling all night is suddenly unbearable. 

You end the song abruptly, meeting his eyes. He furrows his brows at the sight of your tears. You stand up and stomp to him, only to swerve right past him.

“Hey”, he says, voice soft and worried. He grabs your wrist gently, stopping you in your tracks. “I’m sorry. I had a bad day and I let it out on you. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need your apologies”, you spit and slip out of his hold to leave his wing. 

Yoongi flinches as you slam the door closed, listening to your angry stomps become quieter and quieter. Another door slams closed and then he decides not to listen in any longer. 

“What the fuck just happened?” he murmurs to himself, feeling completely and utterly lost. 

Yoongi spends the next hour coming up with what could have pissed you off to such levels. Once he thinks that he figured it out, he instantly runs to where he can hear you. 

The piano in the main sitting room. The one where you and he had this very intense moment years ago before he told you his life story and realised that he was in love with you. 

Jungkook is in the room with you when Yoongi enters. He is drawing, lifting his head at the smell of him. He gives him a sweet eye smile.

“Hey, hyungie.” 

You mess up for a second but catch yourself quickly. You aren’t looking at Yoongi, which he knows that you are doing on purpose.

“Bub, can you leave the room for a second?” Yoongi asks Jungkook. 

“Uh…”

“No. He stays”, you grumble.

Jungkook blinks in confusion, looking between you and Yoongi. He can smell the anger and tension between you and him, wondering what the hell is happening.

“Leave, please bub.”

“No. Stay.” 

“Don’t listen to him, he is a cheater.”

Yoongi furrows his brows. You frown.

“You know what? I think I just heard, uhm, Tae call for me. Uh. I’m coming, mon cher!” Jungkook says and flees the scene quickly. 

The door closes. It is just you and Yoongi. 

“So I’m a cheater now?”

“How else would you call someone who stands up his girlfriend to meet with his psycho ex instead?” 

“Let me think about it for a second. Oh yeah, innocent. I had no choice.”

“Yeah sure. You just wanted to see her. Be honest.”

“I would take an hour of someone repeatedly scooping out my eyeballs over willingly seeing Fringella. Trust me, ___.”

“It still hurts me, Yoongi.” 

“I can see that.”

“Good. You’re supposed to see it.”

Yoongi tongues his cheek.

“Where did you leave her, mhm?” You challenged him. “After you fu-”

“Don’t finish this sentence.” He interrupts you, darkening his eyes.

You scowl at him. Yoongi frowns at you. 

In the end, you are the one to break eye contact. You lower them to the piano, beginning to play again. Yoongi takes a deep breath and sighs.

“Look. I’m sorry that I had to cancel tonight. I really wanted to go on this date with you. I wouldn’t have cancelled it if her issue wasn’t important”, he says in a normal voice.

“Fringella’s stuff should never be important enough for you to cancel on me.”

“Agreed. Except this was vampire stuff, not Fringella stuff. Someone is illegally turning people in Geneva. Stuff like that endangers our existence and puts humans at risk. And given how I’m the only Creator alive, taking care of shit like that falls back on me.” 

You give up with a sigh. The play stops again. You meet his eyes.

“I know. I’m sorry. I know it was important. I just hate that it had to be Fringella.”

“Guess who does too?” he says and scoffs.

You meet his eyes. He softens his gaze.

“Look, princess. I’m here now and I only want you”, he says, walking to you.

“Prove it.”

He stops and stares.

“What?” 

“Prove it. I don’t believe you.”

Yoongi sees the sparkle of excitement in your eyes. He knows what that means. He wants to make it happen for you. 

He falls to his knees right where he stands just so he could crawl to you on all fours. 

You watch it happen with an increasing pulse. Yoongi crawls under the piano to get to you, looking up at you once he does. 

“I knew I was in love with you in this room”, he whispers and lowers his head to your feet to kiss them.

“Wait. Really?” you gasp. This is news to you, making you weak both emotionally and physically. 

“Yes. I knew I loved you.” He kisses your instep. “Knew I would do anything for you.” He kisses your ankles. “Knew that I would set the whole world on fire for you.” He kisses your calves. “You made me feel again, my love.” He kisses your knees, fingers pushing up the sleeping gown you are currently wearing. “Three thousand years of not giving a shit and you made me wanna fucking feel again.” 

He kisses your inner thighs, sucking tender spots of his adoration where you are the most sensitive. You smell like home between your legs. Sitting by the piano and wearing a long dress really warmed you up tonight. Yoongi feels droop,  trapped under your dress and with your soft thighs under his lips. 

“You made me wanna be myself again, princess beloved”, he whispers and connects his mouth with your heat. 

“Oh my god, Yoongi”, you gasp, curling into yourself and grabbing his head over the dress.

He flicks his tongue. 

You tremble, resting your stomach on his head at the sudden pleasure he makes you feel. It forces your pussy to slip back on the chair and therefore make it impossible for him to taste you.

Yoongi slips his head from your dress, not daring to lick his wet lips in case it would remove your sweetness from them. Now that he got a taste of you, he can’t get enough. Having you on his lips is the only way to have heaven and Yoongi would be damned to take this away. 

“Do you not want me to serve you, my princess?” he asks and right now this nickname carries a different meaning to it. When he whispers it in such a way, it feels as if he was your humble servant and you were his royal highness. His eyes show his religious and submissive devotion as well, gazing at you. 

“I, I don’t know. I didn’t expect this”, you stutter. “You, you just told me the moment you realised you love me.”

“I should have done it sooner. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I”, you cup his face, “fuck Yoongi, now I really want you to eat me out.” 

“Me too. Please.”

You nod your head, scooting to the edge of the chair. Yoongi helps you with the last inches, pulling you against his tongue by your hips. 

He groans deliciously, pressing the flat of his hands against your lower back. 

“So good, holy fuck”, his voice tickles you, his tongue replaces it instantly. 

“This is. So nice, actually. Wow”, you get out, following it up with a moan. You put your hand on his hidden head, petting it as best as your strength allows you. 

You close your eyes, letting the sensations wash over you. There aren’t many things which feel as good as Yoongi does. Especially right now, after he confessed such a romantic thing to you.

You think back to That night. It was storming and it was icy outside. You and he fought at first until you kissed his cheek and he couldn’t hold back anymore. He kneeled for you as well back then, eating your pussy while your back was pressed against the window. He was so gluttonous back then, deeply obsessed with your taste. Thinking that it was because he realised that he loved you, makes this memory so much sweeter. 

Yoongi isn’t as gluttonous tonight. He is more calculated, knowing which spots to pay attention to because he knows you these days. He knows how to get you to sigh, how to get you to gasp and how to get you to moan. He knows the spots which don’t really do it for you and the spots which instantly get you wetter. He knows all these things because he loves you. Only you. It will always be you. 

“It’s you, my love.” He kisses your petals and swollen clit. “There’s no one else for me.” He shows you his honesty by wiggling his tongue through your folds only to end it by sucking on your clit gently. Not for long, you should feel a quick bold of electricity, nothing more. 

When you gasp and tense, he lets go of your clit again to repeat the paths of his tongue. Down through your petals and to your entrance. He tilts your hips for it, lowering himself so he is looking up at you.

Like this, he buries his tongue inside you. He moans louder than you, drooling down his chin. Your pussy makes him salivate, it always will. He didn’t know what true pleasure tastes like until he got That first taste of you. 

You are heaven. A heaven he eagerly explores with his long tongue. You moan loudly, rolling your head back. Your toes curl on the carpet, back arching sensually. His tongue is so thick, so long and wet. Because of his nature as a Gluttonous Ripper, it can grow. You can feel him in the deepest parts of you, loving and adoring you. 

“I love this so much”, you choke out, pushing him closer. 

Yoongi lets you gladly, growling deeply when his nose brushes against your clit. He inhales like an addict, feeling his head pound. His black veins grow down his face, behind his closed lids his eyes become demonic. 

“Fuck. I’m sorry”, he breaks away. 

“No. Whyyyy?” you mewl. You roll your head to the front groggily, meeting his eyes. “Yoongi, your eyes.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m selfish, it felt like feeding and, and I didn’t I-”

You silence him by grabbing his chin, bending down so he can taste your words.

“So you’re telling me that you would rather stop this than show me that you’re mine?” 

“No. Sorry”, he whispers, gazing up at you. When he is looking at you like that, you wouldn’t even think that his eyes are currently red and black like those of a monster. He looks like a devoted little puppy so ready to obey its owner. 

“Then get back between my legs and feast on me.” 

“Can I do it better?”

“Whatever helps your case.” 

“I love you, ___. It will never change.” 

You brush your thumb over his black veins, whispering your words.

“I know, Min Yoongi. I love you too.” 

He leans in for a kiss, but you deny him. He mewls softly, gazing longingly. You, however, never grant him his wish, straightening your back. 

You part your legs.

“Go ahead.” 

Yoongi gets to his feet and picks you up. 

“Oh? What are you doing?” 

“Making it better for you”, he says and tries to kiss you again.

You however stop him with a finger against his lips. It moves them around a little, giving you glimpses of his fangs. They look so cute to you right now. 

“Fuck, this is the worst thing you can do to me”, he presses out.

“I know. That’s why I’m doing it”, you tease, scrunching your nose. 

“I already said I’m sorry.”

“I believe you. But you promised me proof.” You move closer. 

Yoongi moans softly, chasing your kiss. 

“This is your proof”, you whisper, moving back before your lips can touch.

“Fuck, this is driving me mad.” 

“Good.” You snicker and ruffle his hair at the nape of his neck. “You were trying to give me an orgasm.”

“Right. Fuck, princess. I’m going insane because of you.” 

He lifts you atop the piano and lies you down carefully. Your legs naturally open for him. You pull your dress up and over your butt so you are completely exposed to him. The piano feels cold against your butt and it’s a nice feeling to experience.

“My goddess”, Yoongi whispers, caressing your inner thighs gently. Yoongi doesn’t believe in gods or higher beings, so this nickname means a lot coming from him.

“I feel so empty, Yoongi. Hurry up”, you try not to beg, but it’s difficult not to. He makes you crave his touch.

Yoongi listens well and claims the emptiness between your legs by burying two of his long fingers in your warmth. His hand is turned to the side in this position, allowing the pads of his fingers to rub against the side of your walls. With fingers like his’, the way they enter you doesn’t matter a lot. They are long and thick enough to completely fill you, no matter the angle. 

Tonight it makes you arch your back and moan his name. 

“Do you like this?” he asks, watching his fingers pump into you. You make them so wet. He drools because of it, feeling his head pound. He craves you. How he does.

“I love it. Ahmmm”, you encourage him, writhing sensually. 

Yoongi remembers when he built this piano. It was a difficult year for him, lonely and full of guilt, and building the piano was the only joy he felt. To think that one day he will have the love of his eternal life writhing on it because he pleasures her just right, feels like an acid trip to him. 

“You’re a dream. This is a dream. Holy fuck, my love”, he gets out and kisses your warmth. You might deny him the taste of your lips, but he won’t be denied this taste. He kisses you with a dizzy head, licking his fingers each time he pulls out. 

You can feel whenever he licks his fingers clean. His tongue grinds against your clit when he does and it feels so good. 

“Don’t stop.” 

“Never. I couldn’t. Mhhhm princess…”

He connects his tongue with your clit completely, grinding the flat of it against you. He purrs into you, picking up a quick and deep rhythm with his fingers. 

“Oh! Wow! Ah!” you yelp up, body trembling in blissed shock. A groan of his name and an arch of your back follows. 

Yoongi moans with you, furrowing his brows in pleasure. This is it. You are currently existing for nothing but the bliss he makes you feel. He feels high from pride. He doesn’t need his cock to drive you wild. He knows exactly what he has to do with his hands to fulfill your every need. 

“Holy moly, this feels so good. What the fuck”, you croak out, reaching down to hold whatever you can grab first. 

It is his other hand, once dug deep into your thigh possessively, you manage to pull it away from you. He intertwines his fingers with you, giving you a loving squeeze as his other hand makes passionate love to your dripping pussy. 

“Yoongi. Yoongi, oh god, Yoongi”, you moan, allowing your legs to shake against your will. It is the only right way to handle how he fingers you. 

Yoongi’s hands deserve a hymn of their own. If somebody would dare you to describe what his hands meant to you, they would regret it because you would not be able to shut up. Not only are they beautiful and sexy, they are also makers of so many of your favourite memories. Holding hands, intertwining fingers when dancing, feeling his loving touch when you’re half asleep, feeling his grip when you are lost in shared pleasure are just a few of the things they are so good at. Cooking for you, creating for you, making music, nourishing your plants and using them to fight for good are just a few of the other things. 

Yoongi’s hands deserve their own hymn, for everything they do and especially for the way they finger you.

“Feels so good. Yoongi, your fingers, ah!”

Yoongi buries them deeper, twisting his hand in circular motions to give you a taste of them. You writhe and shake on the piano, clit throbbing under his tongue. 

You like it. Yoongi growls because of it, drooling all over you which is perfect because it means that his fingers slip so much easier. 

“Yoongi, oh god.”

“I fucking love how you say my name”, he lulls, giving you electric pleasure one deep thrust at a time. “and gotta love your pussy too, princess. Such a sweet, warm pussy. Makes me drunk on you, princess love…”

Any kind of insecurity, jealousy or anxiety you felt tonight is gone from your system. As is your anger. Yoongi’s good like that, he fucks you well like that, know you best like that. The proof of his devotion is at the tip of his long fingers, the proof of his love sits on his warm tongue. And right now he is loving you mighty well, fucking wet pleasure out of you and slurping it up hungrily.

“Yoongi-i-i”, you sob, grabbing his hair to twist it, “I’m really close, o-oh god.”

“Whenever you need to, princess.” 

You grab his hair and push him closer, rolling your hips against his face. 

Yoongi lets you, moaning blissfully. There is nothing better to him than you using his face to make yourself orgasm. He might need to write a song about it, call it something nasty because it would make you wet. He loves when you’re wet, especially when you’re wet on his face. 

“Ah, Yoongi. Oh god”, you moan and pant, smothering him in your warmth. The fingers in his hair hurt. He likes it, squeezing your other hand softly. He keeps his fingers deep inside you, letting you use them as your beloved dildo. You deserve it. You’re so perfect when you ride his fingers like that.

“Shit. It’s- now!” 

You begin throbbing around him, pushing his mouth against your pulsing clit. You mewl and keen. Yoongi picks up the rhythm you lost as your body tenses up, fingering your convulsing walls quickly all while his dripping tongue flicks against your clit in a fast rhythm. 

The consequences are inescapable. You squirt on his face, wailing his name because it feels so good when he makes you squirt. Like, so good.

He makes you feel so good in fact that you need to pull him away after your orgasm. You can’t take another one. Not for a while. 

Yoongi mewls and purrs softly, stilling his hunger for more by kissing and licking your thighs. He gets you so messy, making you sigh as you recover. 

You sit up once you feel ready, denying him of your thighs. Yoongi however is delirious, stilling his gluttony by kissing and licking your neck instead. He has to get on his tiptoes for it because you are taller than him on the piano. His strong arms are around your waist as tightly as possible, his hands are holding you possessively, his chest is pressed against yours. 

“Please don’t doubt my love for you, please. I love you so much”, he chokes out the words, sniffling against your neck.

“I love you too”, you hug him against your chest. Fingers deep in his hair. “I’m not doubting your love for me. I hope you know that.”

Yoongi sinks into your chest with a deep sigh. The kind which releases him of his long day. He mewls quietly, nuzzling like a kitten needy for love.

“Are you alright, my love? Honest answer. I know the F word is kinda a lot to handle.” 

“I’m alright now. Just glad to be with you.” 

“I’m glad to be with you too, Boongie.” 

He lifts his head, resting his chin in your boobs. He flutters his lashes at you and pouts.

“Can I please have that kiss now?” he pleads, making cute puppy eyes at you.

“Do you think you deserve it?” you tease, booping his cute nose adoringly. 

“I made you squirt?” he almost asks his argument for why he deserves it, fluttering his lashes again.

You laugh, “fine. You won me over. Come and kiss me like you missed me.”

“Oh, I did. I missed you”, Yoongi says and picks you off the piano to pull you into his beloved kiss. 

[solitary-traveler]

One More Night

Hookups were supposedly a one- time thing. A way to have fun without getting attached.

So why the fuck does he keep coming back to you?

Scaramouche x Gn!Reader

A/n: A quick edit of a draft I've had in my notes for a while now.

Art credits: ike_0910

Warning: Slight nsfw, cursing

Scaramouche despises hookups.

To be tangled within the sheets with a complete stranger, the idea repulsed him to no end. Honestly, it was rather pathetic. It was nothing more than a desperate act of attention. A despondent call to those terrified of estrangement. But archons forbid, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't the least bit curious.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try at least once?

Besides, stress has been eating him up lately. He needed a way to clear his thoughts and forget. To let go and revel in the pleasure of losing himself in his inhibitions.

But there must be something wrong with his hookup. Weren't they supposedly a one- time thing? A way to have fun without getting attached?

So why the fuck does he keep coming back to you?

Why does he insist on keeping you on his bed, with a part of him wishing you'd stay there forever?

He hated this so much.

Words can’t express how much he loathes this thing referred to as attachment. He refuses to let his emotions run rampant again and undergo the heartbreak of treachery. He’s been betrayed three times. He’s not letting you be his fourth one.

Yet here he was, in bed with you for the 5th time this week, lips locked in a fiery fit of passion. Your wrists were pinned above your head, it was scary how he didn’t want to let you go. How despite his repugnance towards devotion, his hypocrisy ruled with the thoughts of keeping you in place.

"You taste so fucking good…", he mumbles as his breath brushes against your lips. Your skin was redolent of fresh lemon with the base of woody amber, the bed sheets stained with the scent of your perfume. The air was heavy, choking the last of his self-control. He eyes you, taking shallow breaths underneath him as you tried to catch your breath. He couldn’t help the twitch of his lips as you never fail to provide him with the dopamine of having control. He dives in for another kiss, this time devoid of passion and merely fueled by his hunger. Hunger for you. For the delightful moans that slip out your pretty, little mouth when he pounds relentlessly into you. For the way your body arches when he rakes his fingernails across your smooth skin, all the while his hips snap forward to hit that spot deep within you. A certain area only he knows that would drive you crazy.

He was obsessed with this feeling.

He knows that he should've let you go already, that this is something that shouldn't be happening. But dear archons forgive him because being wrong never felt so right. You were like a poison who seeped into his veins, rewiring his brain to be filled with thoughts regarding you and you alone. You collapsed the building of his very morals, turned everything he stood up for into non-existent debris.

"One more night…" He mutters, burying his face into the crook of your neck. It would be a comforting gesture, if not for the fact that he sinks his teeth into your skin and gnaws on it like a piece of meat. He’s sure that's going to leave a mark tomorrow yet it doesn’t stop the sinful moan that escapes your throat, an invitation for him to keep going. And he will most definitely keep going. His sense of judgement disintegrated when you hooked your arms around his neck, reciprocating his intense desire that tarnished both your bodies and short circuited your willpower. Nothing else mattered. Just you and his desire to have his way with you until he's satisfied.

A low chuckle escapes from the confines of his throat as he saw how much of a mess you became. A mess that belonged in his museum of you, framed, sculpted or whatever way its preserved. With a smirk that seemed to widen every passing minute, his fingers lightly trace the curve of your spine.

He just couldn't get enough of you.