#need to be better about taking the time to read and appreciate longer works

[bi-writes]

i find it hilarious that the shit i write 2 minutes before i pass out and fall asleep always gets a fuckton of attention and what i write that takes me 14+ business days just looks cute on my masterlist

[muletia]

𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 <𝟑

[tfp] various x human!reader optimus / ratchet / bumblebee / smokescreen megatron / soundwave / starscream / knockout

word count: 2200

Optimus most often kisses the back of your hand

He learned this way of showing affection while delving into Earth’s culture. Perhaps he read about it in one of the books you recommended to him. Maybe he saw a scene where a gentleman kissed his chosen one exactly in that spot. What matters most to him is the meaning of such a kiss and the emotions tied to it.

Optimus could pour all his love into a single gesture. Demonstrate to the whole world that he has the most wonderful partner and is endlessly grateful for your presence in his life. Make such a kiss merely a greeting, but Optimus desires you to see the multifaceted nature of his feelings toward you

When he bows down and takes your hand in his servo, he wants to show the respect he holds for you. By brushing his thumb over the back of your hand, he demonstrates gentleness and support. Finally, by enveloping your knuckles with his lips, he pours all his adoration into the gesture. He reveals his admiration for you in the least intrusive way, so as not to overwhelm you with the true strength of his love. He shows respect, proving his gallantry

He wouldn’t hesitate to kneel on one knee during a hand kiss to further emphasize his feelings. To meet you at eye level, look optics to eyes, or make you look down on him. He would renounce the title of Prime in your honor. For you, he is simply Optimus, striving to unveil the boundless, infinite love he has for you <3

Ratchet most often kisses the top of your head

He is a busy mech, often working overtime on research and ensuring no Autobot faces health issues. He doesn’t have time to be romantic. He rarely takes you on rides, and persuading him to go for a walk around the hangar borders on a miracle. Even in his private habsuite, he only appears sporadically, sacrificing recharge for a few more hours of work. And constant exhaustion means using mass shifting is out of the question for fear of fainting and possibly harming you

Still, Ratchet wants to be a good partner—or at least try to be. To thank you for choosing such an old mech, despite being a young human, without having to say it outright. To convey what he struggles to say aloud. To appreciate your constant presence and the support you give him, even when you do nothing extraordinary

That’s why he loves kissing the top of your head. You don’t need to do anything special—just sit there reading a book—and suddenly you feel passion and gratitude in the touch of his lips on your hair. But before you can ask, Ratchet is already back at work, leaving behind only his silent love

He’s always gentle, blending the precision of a medic with the softness of affection in his kisses. Sometimes he lingers there a little longer, taking in the scent of your shampoo, experiencing the unique texture of your hair—both firm and fluffy. If he’s feeling particularly sentimental, he wraps his servo around your back. It’s his way of showing he’s there for you, even when his work often keeps him away. To remind you of his feelings, that they still hold him firmly by the spark <3

Smokescreen loves kissing you on the lips

He’s a young mech, full of energy and hungry for experiences. That vitality is something he wants to share in his kisses, along with his passion for life—and most importantly, his weakness for you.

He seizes every possible opportunity. Greeting you, saying goodbye, or simply showing affection. He always aims for your lips, even in front of others, as he has no problem with PDA. Besides, he wants others to know you’re taken. That you belong to him, just as he belongs to you. And there’s no better way to express that than through a kiss

He loves catching you off guard. First, he runs his servo through your hair, then leans in to kiss one corner of your mouth, only to immediately claim your lips because he has no patience for the other corner

It’s worth noting that he’s terrible at kissing due to a lack of experience. He focuses more on showing than perfecting, losing his senses around you, always craving more and more. His intake moves impulsively across your lips, chasing the motion of your mouth, often outpacing you in his insatiable appetite for affection. Eventually, it leaves you with swollen lips, breathless, and a very satisfied Smokey, already eager for the next make-out session <3

Bumblebee places kisses on your cheeks

Or at least he would, if his lips were accessible. As a young mech fascinated by human culture and well-versed in its nuances, he knows how significant kisses are in human relationships. It pains him deeply that he can’t give you such an important experience, no matter how often you reassure him it’s not his fault and that you don’t hold it against him. Bee still feels disheartened about it. That’s why he’s come up with his own way of showing physical affection

He nuzzles your cheeks with his battle mask, always remembering to do both sides. It’s a sweet gesture he’s utterly addicted to, so much so that he’ll “kiss” you this way at every opportunity. Greeting you, he caresses your cheeks, chirping cheerfully and listening to the melody of your radiant laughter, immensely pleased that he’s its source

If he’s mass shifted, he always pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your back, practically supporting your entire weight against his chassis. In this position, he has perfect access to your face, which he overzealously takes advantage of. He snuggles into the softness of your cheek, tracing uneven circles and pushing his mask forward as if truly planting a kiss. If only he could, he’d spend an eternity pampering your face, pouring all his nonverbal love into the gesture <3

Megatron particularly loves kisses on the palm of your hand

At first, he simply wanted to surprise you with his tenderness. To prove that he even possesses it, doubting your trust that he could be anything more than a domineering, unfeeling tyrant. That’s why, when he first took your hand and placed a kiss in its center, he got exactly the reaction he anticipated: surprise, but also bashfulness, that the mighty Megatron could treat you with such calculated delicacy

Over time, such kisses became almost an everyday occurrence for you both. He leaves kisses to draw your attention when you’re lost in thought, focused on something other than him. To elicit the reaction he desires, to see the smile on your face and that captivating shyness, so rare in your usual demeanor

He grabs your wrist to guide your forearm into supination, bringing your hand to his lips with a roguish grin because he knows he’ll surprise you again. His kisses in that spot are subtle, unhurried, but they remind you always to think of him. He always looks straight into your eyes, as if showing respect—or perhaps issuing a challenge? Or maybe, deep within his spark, he’s a gentleman

It’s undeniable that he has class. He’s calculated and self-assured, traits that carry over to his kisses. He always knows exactly where to "strike" to tickle you or send shivers down your spine. He knows the effect he has on you—how you squirm when he lets his shark-like teeth lightly graze your skin, mocking your self-control. In a way, he plays with you, teasing only to stop and move to another spot, this time the base of your thumb. Again, he proves his tenderness, cherishing and adoring, only to move to yet another place, striving to show you that his feelings for you burn as fiercely as the values he believes in <3

Soundwave loves to kiss your forehead

Another mech without a mouth who’s devised his own way of compensating for having a display screen instead of a face and a human significant other. With access to all the information on the internet, he knows well that humans love kissing and that it’s important to them. That’s why he’s determined not to deprive you of this pleasure, to not deny you something you deserve due to his anatomical limitation

So, Soundwave touches his forehead to yours. It’s a delicate gesture but carries the weight of his complex and multilayered feelings for you. It shows that he cares, that he’s there for you—even when he spends countless hours standing by a console. He doesn’t need breaks, capable of working endlessly, but for you, breaks have become a daily ritual in his life, just to prove that he’s with you, not just in thought

He pulls you close until you’re level with his faceplate, tilting his helm to connect your foreheads in an unusual yet tender kiss. He loves when you close your eyes during this gesture, giving him tangible proof that this form of affection satisfies you and that you’re content with his efforts, no matter how minimal they might seem. You validate him, giving him a sense of trust that you don’t regret entering a relationship with him

Sometimes, he tilts his helm in a similar gesture while working, as if kissing you from afar. Manifesting you suddenly before him, so he could spend hours in such a position, foreheads melded together in a silent confession of love. He often misses you, and that longing later translates into prolonged sessions of such kisses, as he strokes your forehead with his, trying to pour all his feelings into the gesture <3

Starscream most often kisses your neck

Not necessarily to spark desire and lure you to the berth. Starscream isn’t a sappy mech. He’s not romantic, but his kisses bear the weight of his complicated and uneasy feelings for you. Sometimes they’re soft and sweet; other times, they’re fierce and fiery, trying to engulf you in flames of yearning. He has no qualms about kissing your hand to achieve a similar effect, but kisses on the neck hold great significance for him

He can lose himself in them—in the sensation of skin beneath his lips, the warmth radiating from it. The bones pressing against the flesh, the moles, scars, and marks. Above all, he loses himself in the feeling of reducing the world to your form alone. In the hollow of your neck, he hides from the demons that haunt him. He doesn’t feel Megatron’s breath on his nape, nor the impossible duties, broken promises, and missteps. There’s only you and the safety you offer, even if you can’t truly protect him

He can spend hours like this—or as long as his duties aboard the Nemesis allow—exploring your neck with his lips. Sometimes, he nips at your skin when he wants to extract a compliment from you, but most of the time, he tries to be gentle, as much as his ego permits. Hidden and surrounded by you, grateful for your presence, though he’ll never say it aloud

With his limbs wrapped around you, he pulls you to his chassis. There’s no escape from this trap; Starscream ensures you sit perfectly before him, where he has ideal access to your exposed neck still bearing traces of your previous rendezvous. He immediately buries his helm in your softness, kissing a trail from your collarbone to your ear. Subtle at times, yet swift, as if trying to devour you—eager to seize the rare opportunity for genuine and natural contentment obtained without schemes or deception. Just you and him, mutually showering each other with affection <3

It’s no surprise that Knockout adores French kisses

However, to "mature" to them, the Decepticons’ sex symbol has to overcome a long road of shedding his phobia of human bodily fluids. Only then does he discover how incredibly satisfying it is to explore your intakes with his glossa. How much passion he can convey through this gesture, showing desire not just through interfacing

He usually catches you off guard. Maybe you weren’t paying him enough attention, or maybe he just suddenly felt the urge to kiss you. He places his servos on either side of you, trapping you with no way out, and starts to charm you before launching into fireworks

He quickly learned what to do to make a kiss anything but average. It took a few tries—in the beginning, your kisses felt more like bumping faces—but Knockout has a knack for kissing. He can adapt to your rhythm or set his own. With unrelenting fervor and intensity, he explores the depths of your mouth. He never cares if anyone’s watching or not

Knockout can be quite possessive, a trait that shows in his kisses. He’s not bothered by PDA; any fear of your relationship being exposed to the public has long been forgotten when he can show everyone who you belong to. This often impacts his patients, who must patiently wait until Knockout reaches a satisfactory level of affection to pull away. Otherwise, you’re inseparable.

He won’t let go until he’s sure he’s poured all his feelings into the kiss—the ugly and the tender, the physical and the ones rooted in his spark

He always leaves you breathless with his intensity and passion, ending with a fleeting peck on your lips. <3

[honey-doc]

Why I appreciate Kabru and Mithrun's relationship in the story (with pictures!)

I just want to express how much I loved reading through the chapter with the 6 days they spent together and how I think their relationship developed in a pretty sweet way.

I feel like a lot of people reduce their dynamic to "nurse and patient" and that makes me sad because I personally got a lot more from it than that.

I do wanna start off by saying I'm here appreciating their dynamic as it is in the text.

Read more (spoilers ofc):

The beginnings

When they first met, there was an air of intimidation surrounding Mithrun as the captain of the ominous Canaries. He demonstrates his proficiency as a fighter and leader which worried Kabru because he knew it would lead to the dungeon falling into elven hands once again. But this threatening aura begins to dim in Kabru's mind as they get to know each other.

Even before they fell down the hole, the both of them ended up relying on each other's abilities a number of times (when the underground governor turned out to be corrupted Mithrun defeated him and Mithrun needed Kabru's deduction skills during the battle on the first floor) which is already the beginning of a great dynamic

(Kabwu is scared but Mithrun just asks for his help)

After Cithis tasked him with "taking care of Mithrun's needs" for the time being, Kabru treated Mithrun with proper respect and doesn't take advantage of his disability, even using his title “Captain” when he knew Mithrun wouldn’t have cared either way after learning about how he lost his desires. This is in contrast to Cithis who immediately took advantage of her position to mess around with Mithrun when she was taking care of him.

(When Cithis was put in charge of taking care of Mithrun)

The whole time Kabru is with Mithrun, he treats him like a person and more than just someone to be taken care of, as also he relies on Mithrun's fighting skills, knowledge of the dungeon, and teleportation magic.

When you reduce their dynamic to just "caretaker and patient", you're ignoring Mithrun's own capabilities and making him seem totally helpless. It actually feels rather ableist. They have a more balanced relationship with what Mithrun brings to the table than you may think. Mithrun couldn't have survived down there on his own, but it's the same for Kabru (who famously dies every time he fights)!

Kabru doesn’t show signs of trying to manipulate Mithrun either, and he's no longer intimidated by him in the slightest once he learns he’s not a threat or after his life. Though he does instinctively revert to his "sparkly" persona to get Mithrun to eat the disgusting mushroom, it doesn’t work so Kabru just has him eat it normally and never tries it again. This is the beginning of Mithrun unintentionally encouraging Kabru to be more honest with others.

(Kabru realizing he can chill out)

(Kabru being unreserved and Mithrun being silly)

bonus funny moment:

Bonding

Throughout the journey they talked to each other, shared things with each other, and ate with each other. And Kabru expresses genuine concern about whether Mithrun is comfortable (which is something he could live without and wasn't something the Canaries told him to do).

(Kabru showing he wants to make him comfortable by making food for him which is a very important part of the narrative)

(Kabru sharing intimate memories with Mithrun)

(Kabru initiating conversation without hesitation or worry. This part also is referencing how Mithrun shared very important details of his life with Kabru. Kabru also ends up trusting Mithrun with information about Laios despite knowing he could possibly tell the other Canaries about him and impede his plans..which he does lol they do end up knowing about Laios before meeting him.)

For a bonus Lycion implies Kabru was taking better care of Mithrun than they had been which is interesting to me.

Mithrun also shows that he has come to trust Kabru's decisions over the Canaries' when he says he wants to stay in the dungeon after fulfilling the caretaker requirement. They did talk to each other a lot, during that time. I wonder what Mithrun's Shapeshifter double of Kabru would look like now?

Here, Kabru goes out of his way to make sure Mithrun doesn’t overexert himself by knocking him out after the demon leaves with Marcille (again, when his time taking care of him is already over), and I think that demonstrates an extra level of concern he holds for Mithrun.

(Kabru holding back a hellbent Mithrun)

(KNOCKOUT!)

He even managed to make Mithrun mad. It's probably because he "let the demon get away" but I think it's cute and funny because would he huff like that at anyone else? Lol

When the demon breaks through the surface

Kabru begins panicking after Laios turns into the giant monster because he's wondering if he made the right decisions etc. If Mithrun didn’t care about Kabru at least a little bit, he would’ve just left him alone when he started losing it (right after Marcille did the same thing and she is technically more to blame for empowering the demon than Kabru was for not allowing Mithrun to go after it), but he went out of his way to snap him out of it.

It also means a lot to me that Mithrun even says Kabru's name, because in Japanese you can go your entire life without referring to someone by name and it wouldn't sound wrong (just rude) and it's the first time Mithrun says Kabru's name on screen (I checked).

Though it was with a slap, I think it says a lot, because if Mithrun didn’t care at all he wouldn’t have done anything and left him alone. It's not like Kabru could've done anything to stop the demon. He didn't even to tell him to do anything even though Kabru looked ready for an order.

(To be honest I don't know exactly why Mithrun starts beating him up here but you can say it's another rare demonstration of emotion Kabru was able to evoke in him lol. Maybe it's payment for Kabru stopping him the first time. That can be interpreted as paying it back and/or paying it forward I think.)

The last few chapters

And in the end when Kabru’s motivating Mithrun to continue living his life, he speaks to him like they’re friends/have no rank between them despite using the Captain title for him the whole time. Even Lycion initially gets upset that he’s acting “too familiar” with Mithrun.

It feels like Mithrun changed so much in the short time he spent together with Kabru and before the final battle, and it’s thanks to Kabru that Mithrun finally starts to be able to move past his lingering obsession with the demon and begin to really heal.

This is despite the fact that he spent so much time with Milsril and the other elves who never managed to break through to him like that.

(Before Kabru) (After Kabru)

And even after his role as Mithrun's caretaker was loong complete, he still shows concern for Mithrun and tells him to take a break when he's using up all his magic to slice the Falin meat (lmao).

He didn't need to do that! But it shows how he at least slightly considers Mithrun some kind of friend.

It all culminates with Kabru helping Mithrun regain his wil to live and Mithrun confiding in Kabru. Their relationship is important. Kabru continuing to do things for Mithrun to me is more of a sign that he just plain cares about him. Isn't it normal when a friend needs medication for you to remind them to take it? I think it's like that.

Kabru is there with Mithrun when he comes out about his feelings of uselessness AND when Senshi helps him put a spin on the 'vegetable scraps' metaphor and he find meaning in his life again. He's the first one to see him cry :')

Along with the fact that it feels like Mithrun is the first person we see Kabru doesn't feel the need to change his personality with or put on airs for since Mithrun doesn't need buttering up and he won't get offended if someone were to say something socially awkward, I think they made a pretty good team!

BUT ALSO the REAL reason I became endeared to them is cute shit like this:

GOD I love them!!!!! There are so many funny sides to Mithrun Kabru was able to bring out, and really show his charm as a character. Mithrun also brings out the best in Kabru while Kabru’s the most genuine he’s been since his debut with Mithrun. We are able to see that he’s just a kind and caring person, rather than the shady obsessed guy most fans have come to believe him to be.

The true depths of their dynamic also grew on me over time :)

TLDR

All in all it’s so nice seeing how even though Mithrun is a really deadpan person, and Kabru is a really secretive and withheld person, they clearly seem to have developed some kind of bond while they traveled together and even changed each other to an extent.

Doesn't Kabru feel more honest near the end? Maybe it's because of how much he talked to and shared with Mithrun during those 6 days so candidly...because they taaaalked a looooot like wow.

They mean so goddamn much to me. I don’t need them to be in a romantic relationship but I do want them to be together forever :'))) or like at least hang out when they have off time since they're still in the same country lol. Praying for Kui to make another side comic of them some time (crying).

Thanks for reading if you made it this far, I mostly arranged this because it makes me sad to see people reduce their dynamic to only one singular aspect.

Anyways ya...love 'em (heart hands)

[blessedmisery]

summary: choi jong-in x fem!reader - what happens when you mix business with pleasure? warnings: dirty talk, pnv, unprotected sex, fingering, dubcon kinda, praise kink, reader is oblivious. authors note: this man is criminally underrated. we need more of him. let this fic be a pivotal moment for us all. ty for reading, likes and reblogs always appreciated <3

choi jong-in was a very successful man.

everyone knew this. he was one of south korea's most powerful s-rank hunters, and the guild master of south korea's most powerful guild, the hunters guild. don't be mistaken though, being known as ‘the ultimate hunter’ was no easy task. choi jong-in was under contstant pressure of having to keep up his public appearances on behalf of his entire guild, and balance the enormous workload of being the top guild master in the country. there was no denying it—he was indeed successful but he was also very busy. so that's why he hired you. as his personal assistant, having you around was most helpful to him. within a few days of your hire, you managed to cut his own workload in half and thanks to you, he was able to take the smoke breaks he so desperately needed during his work day and he was finally able to get home at a reasonable hour of the night. it was safe to say that you were his salvation.

you stood in front of his office door, wearing your regular office uniform, holding a thick stack of papers. jong-in had given you a specific dress code to follow when he hired you—composed of a white blouse, black stiletto heels and a dark red pencil skirt. you weren't sure why he picked the colour red for you, but you thought better than to question it. he was paying you twice as much as any other personal assistant positions did so it was important you did everything in your power to keep it. the door finally swung open, revealing his tall frame. not only was he successful, but he was also very attractive, his aura alone was enough to turn heads anytime he stepped foot outside. you knew this well, having been on the receiving end of it many times. he was dressed in his usual red suit and rectangular glasses, his fingers covered in his signature gold rings. his lips were curled up in a crooked smirk and he was watching, no—studying you.

"m-mr. choi you wanted to see me?" you stuttered out the question nervously. you weren't sure why he wanted to see you, but whatever the reason, you had a bad feeling about it.

"ah yes. come in please" he replied, stepping aside to make room for you. you walked inside his office which you spent most of your time in, sorting and filing papers, cleaning his desk and doing work on your laptop from the sleek black couch that stood across the room, perpendicular to his desk.

"i-i also brought the reports you requested on sung jinwoo, i completed them early" you managed to say, trying to keep yourself calm and collected.

"mmm, ever so diligent. good girl" he hummed approvingly, the praise sending a positive rush of blood to your cheeks. you handed him the papers, his fingers ghosting over your skin ever so lightly as he took them from you. “please, take a seat” he said, his hand motioning towards the couch. you complied, placing your hands on your knees to stop your legs from bouncing nervously. he sat himself down in an armchair across from you, placing his elbows on his knees and leaning his chin into his folded hands.

"you look nervous" he chuckled lightly, his eyes still fixed on you. you blushed, averting your eyes from his piercing gaze. "i'm just worried that you're not satisfied with my work sir" you admitted, looking down at your hands. it was true—despite his occasional praises and wide smiles, he was a perfectionist, he liked things done a certain way and he certainly made sure his employees knew that.

"you know," he started, leaning back in his arm chair, crossing his ankle over his leg "i've never kept an assistant for longer than two months at a time" he finished, smiling. a few moments later he added, "do you know why that is?"

"i-i'm not sure. how come?" you replied slowly, unsure of what was coming for you next. he was full of surprises— never quite saying what he meant, often leaving you with more questions than answers.

"because if there's one thing i despise, it's people who work less efficiently than me" he replied casually, observing you, waiting to see how you'll react. there it was again—his puzzling demeanor that never failed to keep you on your toes.

"i-i'm sorry, i'll do my best to get things done faster and—"

"ah ah, i didn't say that about you did i?" he clicked his tongue, cutting off your restless rambling. you felt your mouth zip shut, resolving to let him finish before you made any further assumptions.

"as i was going to say, you're different" he stated simply. you waited for him to elaborate because this could have meant anything, good or bad. "you're so good you know? perfect really. in all your time here you've made maybe one or two mistakes, all within your first week of work" he continued, "and that's exactly what i like about you" he finished carefully. he held your gaze, watching you fidget nervously. his words sent a warm rush of pleasure through your body, which settled low in your core. a semblance of hope returned to you—maybe you were going to keep your job after all.

before you had a chance to thank him for his praise, he asked, "tell me y/n, do you like working for me?" shifting the conversation. your eyes widened at the question. choi jong-in was a very generous employer to say the least. not only did he pay you more than any other job you’ve had, but he frequently bought you lunches without even asking, brought you coffee in the morning, and praised you like you’ve never been praised before. yes, generous he was.

“of course, you’re very kind and i’m treated better here than any other job i've had in the past so, thank you" you replied softly, hoping that he intended to keep you employed. he stood up from his armchair abruptly, and plopped himself down right beside you on the couch. you shifted nervously, waiting for his next move.

“you’re a sweet girl aren’t you?” he asked, his velvety voice alone enough to have you pressing your thighs together. and what a sweet girl you were. always so attentive and eager to please. you had everything done on time if not early, always complying with all of his requests and doing your best to make yourself useful to him. you blamed it all on his commanding presence but deep down you knew that there was more to it. you craved his attention, wanting nothing more than to hear sweet praises dripping from his lips when you did something right.

“i try my best” you replied, your voice shallow and breathless. when did it get so hot in here?

“you know what i’d like to know?” he asked, but before he let you answer, he continued, “i'd like to know what sweet girls like you look like when they come undone” he whispered, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. the air was thick with tension and somehow his lips found themselves mere inches from yours—you hadn’t even noticed how close he was to you until now. you felt heat pool in your lower stomach which you quickly noticed took form in the slick that coated your panties.

"s-sir" you uttered, no longer worried about your employment, your thoughts now clouded with excitement and lust. you hadn't realized how badly you actually wanted him until now. all those stolen glances in his office, the praises, the lunches, it wasn't just because he was being nice.

and that's when you felt the tension snap. his lips quickly met yours, kissing you with a hunger you somehow knew only you could have cured. you eagerly kissed back, allowing his tongue to explore the inside of your mouth. how you'd go back to being boss and assistant after this? you didn't know. but in this moment nothing mattered but the feel of his soft, warm lips on yours. he tasted faintly of mint and cigarettes—as expected from a chainsmoker like himself.

jong-in broke the kiss momentarily. he stood, taking his blazer off and rolling up his sleeves to his elbows, revealing his expensive golden watch. this man really did love luxury. the sight had you practically drooling. you unbuttoned a few buttons of your blouse in a pathetic attempt to escape the heat but you had a feeling this stifling heat would remain as long as a choi jong-in— a fire mage type hunter, was in your presence. you gasped when he lifted you easily, your legs wrapping around his torso as if on instinct. he walked you over to his desk, placing you down rather gently so you were sat on display for him, instantly squeezing your thighs together at the realization of how you looked, embarrassed to be in such a position in front of your boss. "ah ah, don't shy away from me" he cooed, gently tapping your thigh with two fingers, making you open your legs reluctantly.

and before you knew it, his lips were back on yours, claiming your mouth as his. you felt his fingers travel up and down your thigh, eventually reaching your soaked panties. "oh? if i had known you were this much of a slut i would have done this a lot earlier" he teased, pushing your panties aside and coating his slender fingers in your slick. "s-sir—ah" you moaned right before he pushed two ringed fingers inside of you while continuing to rub your sensitive clit with the pad of his thumb. you whimpered at the feeling, throwing your head back in pleasure, letting him play with you however he pleased.

he was pushing you close to the edge. you felt the buildup in your core waiting, begging to be released. "please, sir—ah, i'm going to cum" you whined, relishing in the pleasure he was giving you with just two of his fingers. "mmm, no you won't. not like this" he practically purred, a smirk of satisfaction plastered on his face. he pulled his fingers out of you right before you could finish, leaving you high and dry. "why not?" you asked while exhaling shaky breaths. you couldn't believe that choi jong-in, your boss, had you all worked up from just his fingers. "you'll see" he replied simply, once again leaving you questioning his true intentions.

he put one hand on your waist and the other on your shoulder, slowly pushing your back down on the desk and leaning over you. that's when you understood exactly what he meant. you gasped as he started placing soft, wet kisses down your neck, and unbuttoning your blouse to reach your chest. you closed your eyes shut, letting out soft mewls of pleasure as he wrapped his lips around your left nipple, licking it, sucking it, and kissing the soft skin around it. you felt an overwhelming need for him, from the teasing and edging earlier to this. you were unable to contain it any longer. "please sir, i need more" you keened, hoping he understood what 'more' meant. "more what? use your words sweetness" he murmured against your skin. "i need you inside me, please sir" you managed to utter, your cheeks flushing pink.

he removed his mouth from your tits, lifting his head to look at you through half lidded eyes. he chuckled, and without another word, he wrapped his strong arms around your thighs, pulling you closer to him, where he stood at the edge of the desk. he lifted your skirt, bunching it up around your waist so he had better access. you propped yourself up on your elbows, wanting to admire him a little more. you felt another wave of pleasurable heat wash through you, settling in your already soaked panties at the mere sight of him unbuckling his belt. his eyes lingered on you, studying your reactions to his every move. he let the belt drop to the floor, moving to unbuckle his pants. your eyes widened at the sight of his hardened cock, wondering how all of that was going to fit.

"are you ready baby?" he asked softly, hovering over you and slowly prodding your dripping entrance with his cock. you whimpered, bucking your hips impatiently. "so impatient" he muttered, slowly sliding his cock into your hole, filling every inch of you. "nngh sir—" you moaned, arching your back off the desk, trying to adjust to his girth. but he didn't move, and he wouldn't move until he heard his name roll off your tongue. "sir is used for business. does this—" he thrusted into you once making you gasp with pleasure, "feel like business to you?" he asked, smiling coyly. "n-no" you stammered. "what's my name?" he demanded, standing still, his cock buried deep inside you while he waited for his answer. "mr. choi" you replied, hoping that was what he wanted to hear. spoiler alert, it wasn't. "wrong." he thrusted into you again, making you suck in a sharp breath. "jong-in" you mewled at the pleasurable sensation of his dick hitting your sweet spot.

and that was what made him snap. the swore that the sound of his name on your lips was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. he pulled out slightly before slamming into you, making you cry out. he began pounding into you, one hand gripped your waist so hard you felt bruises forming and the other closed around your neck, choking you lightly. the feeling of the cold metal of his rings was a divine contrast for your burning skin. "fuck sweetness— you feel so good" he rasped, quickening his pace. his hair was messy, and his glasses had slid down his nose— the sight was purely erotic. you felt a flame ignite between your thighs, feeling yourself approaching your climax yet again, hoping that he would let you finish this time. "jong-in" you moaned breathlessly, unable to formulate a full sentence. "i know baby—fuck i'm gonna cum" he groaned, feeling his dick twitching with need inside of you. "ah—" you cried out, body going still as you finally felt the sweet release you were waiting so patiently for. jong-in followed, eyes shut and head hanging low, breathing heavy breaths while he finished inside of you.

as you came down from your high, your mind had started to clear and it finally dawned on you. oh my god. you had just fucked your boss, who was also the guild master of the most well known guild in the country. oh fuck. jong-in finally pulled out, buckling himself back up. he looked over at you, admiring the sight of you laying on his desk all fucked out—a sight he’d been waiting too long to produce. you sat up, looking up at him. he lifted a hand to your cheek, brushing his thumb lightly over its soft flesh. “good girl, you did so well for me” he praised, his words enough to make you melt. you really did have a thing for praise. “thank you” you mumbled shyly, unsure of how things would be after this. nothing could be the same after sex this good. he tapped your cheek lightly before dropping his hand back to his side, walking across his office to his private bathroom. he spent a few minutes in there and stepped out, holding a wet, warm towel which he used to clean you up.

the stark contrast between how rough he’d been during the sex and how gently he was cleaning you up made your head spin. would he fire you now? was it good enough for him? was he going to do it again? “stop thinking so much” he muttered, pulling you back from your thoughts. “huh?” you asked, worried that you were speaking out loud the whole time. “you have that frown on your face. i’ve noticed you frown that way when you’re overthinking something” he explained. wow, he really was attentive. “sorry” you mumbled in response, still worried about your future at the guild and your future with him.

he finished cleaning you up and you slid off the desk, shocked to find that your heels had stayed on during this whole process. your feet hurt, so you opted to take them off, your height shortening by about 4 inches. he seemed even taller now. jong-in wrapped a hand around the back of your neck and leaned down. he kissed you softly, gently, reassuring you with just his lips. he pulled away, smiling, and said “now sweetness, tell me about those reports you brought in”. looks like you were keeping the job after all.

© @blessedmisery 2025.

[rmview]

fight reconciliation, ENHYPEN.

featuring — enhypen members x gn!reader ( masterlist )

summary — when the enhypen boys come to apologize after saying something hurtful in a fight! ( can be read as part 2 of this )

contents — reconciliation, apologies.

hee ➷ seung

heeseung sat on the couch, head in his hands as the weight of his earlier words pressed down on him. he didn’t mean it — not even close. now, the memory of your pained expression haunted him.

after hours of pacing, heeseung grabbed his phone, hesitating before calling you. no answer. he sighed, deciding to do this in person. showing up unannounced might be risky, but he couldn’t bear letting things fester any longer.

when you opened the door, your expression was guarded. heeseung’s heart clenched, but he forced himself to meet your gaze. “can i come in? please?”

you stepped aside silently, and he entered, suddenly hyperaware of how small the space felt with tension between you.

“i... i messed up,” heeseung began, his voice cracking slightly. “what i said earlier — it was stupid and cruel, and i didn’t mean any of it. i was frustrated, and instead of talking like an adult, i lashed out.”

your silence made him nervous, so he continued, stepping closer cautiously. “you mean so much to me. i don’t even know why i said something like that. maybe i was scared... of losing you. but i ended up pushing you away instead.”

you finally looked at him, hurt still visible in your eyes. “you can’t just say things like that, heeseung. words hurt.”

“i know.” he reached for your hands but stopped, unsure if it was too soon. “i can’t take back what i said, but i want to show you that i didn’t mean it. let me prove it to you.”

after a long pause, you sighed. “you have a lot to make up for.”

heeseung nodded earnestly. “i’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it if i have to.”

jay ➷

jay replayed the argument in his mind like a broken record. “you’re being so dramatic! it’s exhausting!” he’d snapped. the look on your face was seared into his memory, and it made his chest ache every time he thought about it.

he knew he needed to apologize, but finding the right words was daunting. instead of calling, he spent hours preparing a small gesture — a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a handwritten note.

when he knocked on your door, the sight of you opening it with a hesitant expression made his breath hitch. “hi,” he said softly, holding out the flowers. “these are for you.”

you accepted them but didn’t invite him in. “what do you want, jay?”

“to apologize,” he said immediately. “what i said earlier was horrible. you didn’t deserve that, and i hate that i made you feel that way.”

you crossed your arms, watching him carefully. “so, why did you say it?”

jay exhaled deeply. “because i’m an idiot. i let my frustration get the better of me, and instead of handling things like a decent person, i lashed out. that’s on me, not you.”

you didn’t respond right away, so he stepped closer. “i don’t want you to think i don’t appreciate you because i do. you mean everything to me. please let me fix this.”

your expression softened slightly, but you still seemed hesitant. “you can’t just fix this overnight, jay.”

“i know.” his voice was quiet but steady. “but i’ll work at it every day if that’s what it takes.”

jake ➷

jake couldn’t sleep. the guilt gnawed at him relentlessly, replaying the moment he’d blurted his words in frustration. the hurt in your eyes had been immediate and profound, and the memory of it was enough to make him feel physically ill.

he grabbed his phone, considering texting you, but no words felt right. instead, he decided to face you in person.

when you opened the door, jake looked at you with wide, apologetic eyes. “hey,” he said, voice almost a whisper. “can we talk?”

you hesitated before nodding, stepping aside to let him in.

jake sat on the edge of your couch, wringing his hands nervously. “i’ve been thinking about what i said earlier,” he began. “it was completely out of line, and i’m so sorry.”

you stayed silent, so he continued, desperation creeping into his tone. “i didn’t mean it — not a single word. i was frustrated and stupid, and instead of talking things out, i said something awful. you didn’t deserve that.”

“why did you say it, then?” you asked, your voice quieter than usual.

jake looked down, guilt evident on his face. “because i’m scared sometimes. of not being enough for you. and when things get tense, i let that fear take over. it’s no excuse, though. i’m so sorry.”

you sighed, sitting across from him. “words have consequences, jake. they hurt.”

“i know,” he said quickly. “and i’ll do anything to make it right. just tell me what you need, and i’ll do it. i don’t want to lose you.”

you looked at him for a long moment before nodding slightly. “you have a lot to make up for.”

jake’s lips curved into a small, relieved smile. “i’ll make up for it. i promise.”

sung ➷ hoon

sunghoon paced his apartment, replaying the argument in his mind. he didn’t mean to say it, but in the heat of frustration, they slipped out, cutting deeper than he’d realized in the moment.

he couldn’t let things end like this. he grabbed his keys and headed straight to your place, his heart pounding with every step. when you opened the door, the hurt in your eyes made him freeze.

“what do you want, sunghoon?” you asked, your tone guarded.

“to apologize,” he said quickly, his voice softer than usual. “i said something i didn’t mean, and i hate that i hurt you.”

you didn’t move to let him in, so he stayed on your doorstep, running a hand through his hair nervously. “i was frustrated, but that’s no excuse. i let my emotions get the better of me, and i took it out on you. that was wrong.”

your silence was heavy, but he pushed through. “the truth is, i don’t want to lose you. i love you, and the thought of not being with you terrifies me. that’s probably why i lashed out... because i’m scared of how much i need you.”

tears pricked your eyes, but you blinked them away. “you can’t just say things like that and expect me to forget, sunghoon.”

“i know,” he said quickly, stepping closer but not crossing the threshold. “i’m not asking you to forget. i’m asking for a chance to make things right. to prove to you that i didn’t mean it and that i’ll do better.”

after a long pause, you sighed. “this isn’t going to be easy.”

sunghoon nodded earnestly. “i don’t care how hard it is. you’re worth it.”

su ➷ noo

sunoo sat curled up on his couch, replaying the argument in his mind. “you’re always so difficult!” he’d snapped, immediately regretting it when he saw the hurt on your face. now, he felt like the worst person alive.

he picked up his phone, staring at your contact for what felt like hours before deciding to face you in person. armed with a small box of your favorite sweets, he knocked on your door, his heart pounding.

when you opened the door, your expression was unreadable, but you stepped aside to let him in.

“i know i’m probably the last person you want to see right now,” sunoo started, his voice soft. “but i couldn’t just let things end like that.”

you crossed your arms, waiting for him to continue.

“i said something awful earlier, and i’m so sorry,” he said, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “you’re not difficult. you’re amazing, and i was just being a jerk.”

“why would you say that, then?” you asked, your tone sharp.

“because i was frustrated and didn’t know how to express myself properly,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “but that’s on me, not you. you deserve someone who lifts you up, not tears you down.”

you softened slightly, but the hurt was still evident. “words have consequences, sunoo.”

“i know,” he said, stepping closer cautiously. “and i’ll spend as long as it takes to prove to you that i’m sorry. you mean too much to me to let my stupid mistake ruin what we have.”

jung ➷ won

jungwon sat in silence, the weight of his earlier words crushing him. “i don’t even know why i put up with this,” he’d said in a rare moment of anger. now, the memory of your shocked expression made him feel sick.

he couldn’t let this fester. he grabbed his jacket and headed to your place, rehearsing what he’d say but knowing it wouldn’t be enough. when you opened the door, he offered a small, hesitant smile.

“can we talk?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

you hesitated before letting him in, crossing your arms as you faced him.

“i messed up,” jungwon began, his voice shaky. “what i said earlier... i didn’t mean any of it. i was angry and lashed out, and that’s not okay.”

“do you even realize how much that hurt, jungwon?” you asked, your voice cracking slightly.

his heart broke at the sight of your tears. “i do,” he said earnestly. “and i hate myself for it. you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and i let my emotions get the better of me. i’ll never forgive myself for making you feel like this.”

you looked away, but he stepped closer, his voice soft. “i can’t change what i said, but i’ll do everything in my power to show you how much you mean to me. please, just give me a chance to make it right.”

ni ➷ ki

ni-ki paced his room, the argument playing in his mind like a broken record. he’d snapped in anger, immediately regretting it when he saw your hurt expression. now, the regret felt like a physical weight on his chest.

he grabbed his phone, typing and deleting a dozen messages before deciding to face you in person. when he knocked on your door, his heart raced as he heard footsteps approaching.

“ni-ki,” you said, your tone cold as you opened the door.

“please, just let me explain,” he said quickly, his eyes pleading.

you hesitated before stepping aside, letting him in.

“i said something horrible earlier, and i hate that i hurt you,” ni-ki began, his voice trembling. “i didn’t mean it — not even for a second. i was frustrated, and instead of talking it out, i lashed out.”

you crossed your arms, your expression guarded. “do you even realize how much that hurt?”

“i do,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “and i hate myself for making you feel like that. you mean so much to me, and i let my emotions get the better of me. that’s on me, not you.”

he stepped closer, his voice filled with sincerity. “i’ll spend as long as it takes to make it up to you. just please... don’t give up on us.” your silence was heavy, but ni-ki’s gaze never wavered. “i’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “and i’ll prove it to you every day if you let me.”

notes: aww, poor boys... do you forgive them? or more suffering next week?

[ddejavvu]

Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader (Part Five) (18+) / Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Summary: You should have known the ‘no refunds’ detail on the website for Spring Fling was a red flag. But you paid no mind to it, eager to be assigned a quick fuck for spring break. When the man that walks through your cabin door is none other than Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, your wildly infuriating fellow pilot, you have two choices: bicker the entire time and have a miserable spring break, or fuck.

Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni. fem!reader, pilot!reader, enemies/rivals to lovers, lots and lots of arguing, could these two people be any less cooperative, sex seven ways to sunday and then some, seriously like so much smut it'll make your eyes bleed, makeouts, rough sex, oral (m+f receiving), penetrative sex, will add as i post

WC: 7.0k / navigation / inbox

A/N: Thank you all for waiting for this chapter! I know it took me longer to finish this one than it did the others but it's the longest chapter so far, and I also had a lot of major life events go down in the time between this chapter and last. I appreciate each and every single one of you who stayed patient with me, and I hope that this chapter and that the rest to come are worth the wait :) <3

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

You’re doing a terrible job at paying attention to where you’re going as you take the elevator, jamming your finger against the 12 button so hard it hurts. Pizza is on the twelfth floor, and you’re hoping Daniel will be there early like you so that you can forget about Jake and his tyrannical rule. 

It’s clear as day to you; Jake thinks he has control over you just the same way he has control over the girls that drool over him at the Hard Deck. He thinks one glance will melt your brain into mush, but it won’t. It doesn’t, and you’re not letting the cockiest man you know believe he’s won you over. Especially one that you work with. If anyone found out- if any of your fellow aviators knew that you’d succumbed to Jake’s charms… you’d risk losing the respect you’ve fought hard to earn on the tarmac. You’re not letting your career take a nosedive because Jake won’t stop bragging about getting his dick wet. He doesn’t get a say in your life if he has nothing genuine to contribute to it. You know him well enough to know that caving in and fucking would be the worst decision of your life, and you refuse to let him feel like he’s won you like a prize. You’re standing up for yourself; if he can shit-talk Daniel, you can shit-talk Miss Melons.

Your skin prickles with annoyance the more you think about the woman that had approached you both- seriously, did she not consider that she was being intrusive and rude? You assume Jake has snagged her away from her roommate by now, and they’re probably having a better time than you are. 

Everything feels unfair, down to the coincidental roommate placement. It’s like the universe had heard you needed a break, and wanted to punish you for it.

Cracking open your book helps, but it takes you a while to get into the groove. You’re sitting poolside across from the pizza place, eyes glancing from page to parlor every once in a while to check for a certain bearded man. The main lead is compelling, and your stomach soars as you imagine Daniel in a cowboy hat. You’d save that horse.

Peace is hard to find while sitting poolside on a cruise, but chaos is actually the perfect white noise for you to read, and your concentration isn’t broken until a shadow falls over your lounge chair. You glance up, but it’s not the man you’d wanted to see.

“Hey.” Jake’s already frowning, his face apprehensive like he thinks you’ll scream at him to get away. You want to, but you don’t want to cause a scene.

“What, Hangman?”

“I’m not trying to control you.” He pushes despite seeing your gaze back on your book, “I just don’t think you’re meant to be with Daniel. But I shouldn’t have given you a hassle for doing the same thing to me. I just… I do it because-”

He stops short, glancing sideways at a man running despite the clear no running sign on the lifeguard tower. You decide to help him in his moment of need.

“Because you’re used to women who let you walk all over them. Even if you’re not trying to control me, you’re used to having that control. It’s familiar for you, so you expect it, even if you don’t know you’re doing it. But I’m not like that. You can’t keep me waiting on you.”

The scoff he lets out is accompanied by an expression that looks truly pained, “That ain’t it at all. But forget it. Don’t worry about why I do it. I just thought maybe you were doin’ it to me for the same reasons. But never mind. I’ll shut up about Daniel. Truce?”

You glare up at him, book still open in your lap. He extends an uncharacteristically helping hand, and you wait a truly uncomfortable amount of time before taking it and shaking once.

“Truce.”

He takes the chair beside you, stretched out in the sun. Unfortunately, it seems like your reading time is over as his head turns to you, “So, Dudley showed up yet?”

“He’s coming for lunch.” You cling to your novel, trying desperately to ignore Jake and his instantly broken promise, “What about Melon girl, they weren’t ripe enough for you?”

“She wasn’t my type.” He starts, and there’s a heavy silence before he continues, “I don’t like a woman who thinks it’s fun to get between a couple.”

The sideways glance you send Hangman, the ‘I-told-you-so’ smirk, is lethal.

“Anyways.” He continues, tone more casual now, “Fancy a swim, darlin’?”

“I’ll read instead,” You offer, “But you have fun, Hangman.”

“Party Pooper,” He accuses, standing from the lounge chair he’s occupying and stretching briefly, “You’re an absolute mood-killer. No fun, the most boring person on this boat.”

“I’m about to be more of one: have you put sunscreen on?”

“Nope,” He grins, “You volunteering to do the honors, you sleazy thing?”

“Absolutely not. But you can use the stuff in my bag.” You nod at your tote bag, “Don’t use it all, though.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jake nods, folding into a seat on the edge of the lounge chair beside yours, “So, what’s going on in that book, they boning yet?”

“Mhm.” You nod absently as Jake begins smearing sunscreen over his arms and legs, “Real sexy stuff.”

“I’ve got somethin’ sexier for you.”

“It’s a porn book, Hangman,” You clarify, in case he’s forgotten, “I’m trying to read porn. Leave me alone.”

“There’s porn right here!” He calls, arms out to show off his impressively tanned and toned chest, a thick layer of sunscreen giving it a sheen that glistens in the light. As reluctant as you are to admire anything about Jake, you can’t lie; he has a body worth ogling. But you will not ogle it.

“This porn’s better,” You hum, glancing up at Jake through your lashes, deceptively inviting, “This guy’s got a cowboy hat on.”

“I’ve got a million and one cowboy hats,” Jake insists, slowly inching towards you and away from the edge of the pool, “Is that really all it takes, darlin’? ‘Cause I can slap one on in seconds, if that’s what you’re after. ‘Even brought one with me in case my roommate was into it.”

“Mm, maybe,” You let him get closer, excitement clearly swirling in his eyes as he advances towards your chair. He doesn’t notice the shifting of your feet until it’s too late and one is shoving firmly against his chest, knocking him off balance and sending him tumbling backwards into the pool.

There’s not anyone in his immediate vicinity besides you, so you take the brunt of the splash, but it’s worth it.

“But I like it better when the hat’s on a real gentleman!” You call, laughter interrupting your words as Jake emerges from the pool well and truly soaked, shaking water out of his hair. He’s been thoroughly underwater trained, so he’d been able to catch his breath in time despite the surprise of it all, and there’s no real harm done besides the initial splash.

“You dirty rotten minx,” He calls, water dripping from his short hair into his eyes, “You lured me in with the promise of cowboy hat sex just to push me in the pool?”

“I can’t believe you fell for it!” You’re still laughing, but maybe this bout of giggles is only to annoy him, “That’s, like, the oldest trick in the book. Well, maybe besides the cowboy hat sex thing. But you shouldn’t have gotten so close!”

He braces his elbows on the wall of the pool, the border surely burning his skin. But he stares at you regardless, “I thought you were finally givin’ in.”

“It’d take a lot more than a cowboy hat to make me give in, Jake.” You laugh, turning back to your book, “Like, a full personality transplant.”

Jake hears Danica’s words repeated back to him in his head, ‘Show, don’t tell’.

“Noted. I’ll look into one’uh those,” He quips, smile sarcastic and empty as he resorts to swimming alone, “Hey, when you’re done with that chapter, you should join me.”

“No.”

“Alright.”

You glance away from the book’s pages at Hangman’s unusual, immediate acceptance of your refusal. But he lifts himself out of the water- no stairs, no ladder, only his forearms against the deck, and your stomach sinks as you realize he might be playing a game of wills with you.

Instead, he sits beside you again, this time facing away from you, “Will you rub some sunscreen on my back?”

You want to say no. You would, if he were only asking to feel your hands on him. And maybe that’s part of it, but you also know that as much as he tans, he could burn, and his back is the only part of himself that he can’t reach. You’d want someone to do you the solid too, so you sigh and set your book aside.

“Fine. But you owe me.”

“Mhm.” He nods, passing you the sunscreen, “I’ll rub it wherever you want, Y/N.”

You whack him upside the head with the bottle, and when he hisses in pain and pitches forwards, you squirt some of the lotion onto your palm and begin applying it to the broad, tanned, muscled expanse of his back.

You’re no masseuse, but apparently you’re rubbing all the right places, because Jake lets out grunts and groans that are borderline pornographic. If they were coming from anyone else, you might have squirmed in your seat, but each one sends your eyes rolling skywards as you cover Jake’s skin in goopy sun lotion.

“Damn, you’re good.” Jake grunts as you dig into a knot beneath his shoulder blade, “Do that again?”

“I’m putting sunscreen on you, Jake, not working out muscle tension.”

“Oh, come on, just a little more?” He pleads, turning so that he can glance at you from the side of his gaze, eyes shining in prayer.

You dig extra hard into his muscle, and you take some sort of wicked pleasure in the way that his resulting groan is more of a pained yelp than something of enjoyment. 

“There, Hangman.” You whack the middle of his back, between his shoulder blades, “You’re all oiled up.”

“Aren’t you glad you were the one to get to do it?” Jake grins blindingly, and you bury your nose in your book again to avoid answering his question.

“Oh, you can stick your face in that book all you want,” Jake drawls, and you hear the displacement of the water he steps in as he lowers himself into the pool, gracefully and by choice this time, “But I know you liked having your hands all over me, darlin’.”

You want to gripe something back- something witty and cutting that will tear him down where he stands, but he’s turned away from you, already submerging himself to begin swimming laps. You admire his dedication to exercise even while on vacation- you have no plans to visit the gym in the lower decks.

Jake sees the diving board just as you do, and you keep him in your peripheral vision as he climbs out of the pool to make his way up the ladder. Your novel is begging to be read, but your eyes stick firm on one fitting word- ‘abdomen’ so that you can watch Jake from the corner of your eye as he prepares to dive.

Fortunately, you don’t need to continue the ruse of reading because Jake bellows from across the deck, “Y/N, look!”

You’re met with a grin when you look up at him, his arms raised above his head and joined flush together in diving position, “I’m gonna dive- watch me.”

“I’m watching.” You call, injecting your voice with as much disinterest as you can manage without feeling guilty, “This feels like babysitting, Hangman.”

He dives instead of quipping back, and it’s an impressive one, not that you’ll sing his praises for it. He comes up on the side of the pool closest to you, arms flinging an arc of water onto the concrete before you.

“Was it good?” He asks, panting slightly, hanging onto the wall.

“Yes,” You reply, a sickly sweet smile on your face as you condescend to him, “You did so good, honey.”

“Shut up,” He sends a wave of water splashing over your sandals, and you can’t be mad at him after all the teasing you’ve been inflicting upon him.

“I’ve been workin’ on my diving,” He goes back to swimming around, this time more casual as he keeps his head above the water to speak with you, “My nieces back home are learnin’ to swim so I’ve been in the pool a lot lately. Anytime they drag me in there I dive in and splash them.”

His arms cut through the water with strength and ease, confident strokes as you mull over his words. The image of Jake urging a toddler in floaties to cross a 3-foot gap into his arms is- endearing, not that you’ll admit it. You hum in acknowledgement, and tuck back into your book.

There’s not many people in the pool this early- most are probably still in bed with a hangover and a mess to clean up - and it’s large to boot, so there’s plenty of room. Your eyes drift left and catch sight of a jacuzzi, and suddenly your beach chair seems to pale in comparison.

Okay, you won’t join Jake in the pool, but you’ll relax for a couple of minutes in the jacuzzi. Just until Daniel gets here.

Jake doesn’t notice that you’ve stood until your chair is empty, and you have a perfect view of him floundering, scanning the entire deck until he spots you half-submerged in the hot tub.

You get to laugh at him again, and he grants you a good-natured grin instead of getting annoyed.

“I thought you’d finally found what’s-his-name,” Jake swims over to the separation wall that keeps the hot water parted from the cold, “Mind if I join you, Y/N?”

“Only if you’re- careful!” You shriek, trying desperately to protect the pages of your book from his sopping wet skin as he scales the barrier, “Hangman, if this book gets wet, you’re replacing it for me.”

“Alright, alright! I’ll take you on a shopping spree, relax. Hey, if I’m buyin’ you porn books, doesn’t that make me somethin’ like a sugar daddy?”

“You’re not getting any sugar,” You shrug, “But sure.”

“Just call me daddy, Y/N.” He grins, “That’s all the sugar I need.”

You hide behind your book so that he can’t see the way your face wrinkles into a grimace. The heat from the jacuzzi spreads inexplicably quick all of a sudden, warming your neck, your ears, your face, and Jake lets out a thick, heavy groan as he settles into the warm water.

“This is nice.” He muses, eyes closed, “Real relaxing.”

“It’s less relaxing when someone’s talking the whole time,” You peek across the side of your book, “Shut up, maybe?”

Jake snorts, leaning his head back against the edge of the pool, “Alright, alright your majesty. I’ll stay silent.”

You don’t verbally thank him, but you don’t make a scene when his leg drifts across the jet currents of the jacuzzi to brush against yours.

You cover a good chunk of your novel before a voice calls your name, and this time it’s the two people you’d been hoping to see all morning. Danica waves giddily at you and Jake, who’s picked his head up from where you thought he’d fallen asleep and is already mad-dogging Daniel. You wave back to Danica, and cast a quick glance down at your bathing suit before standing to greet Daniel. It’s just as tight and showy as you prefer it to be. 

You pay no attention to Jake where he gets out behind you, too focused on Daniel to care. But perhaps you should have, because you’re two steps from meeting Daniel in the middle when Jake’s strong arm shoves you sideways, and your book is wrenched from your grasp as you fall sideways into the pool.

It’s cold, colder even because you’d been soaking in the hot tub. You’re surprised, but you suppose you can’t even really be mad at him considering it’s just payback for what he’d done to you.

You’ve barely righted yourself in the water before there’s another splash beside you, and when you finally emerge there’s hands reaching for your waist, Daniel’s as you realize he’d jumped in to help you. 

“You-!” You splutter at Jake with bleary, chlorine-soaked eyes, attention split between Daniel who’s trying to ensure you’re alright, and Jake who’s snickering while holding your book in his thankfully dry hand.

“You asshole.” Daniel finishes for you, “She could have drowned!”

“I know how to swim,” You brace a hand on Daniel’s chest- startlingly bare, but riddled with coarse, brown hair, “It’s fine, I- I pushed him in earlier.”

“Relax, Prince Charming. It’s just a bit of payback. And look,” Jake waves your novel in front of you, “Dry as a bone.”

“Well I am- uh, not.” You stand half-submerged in the pool, Daniel still holding onto your waist, “So, I guess I will go swimming.”

“Great. You can swim with us.” Daniel smiles, warm and inviting as he keeps his hands on you.

“Yeah, us.” Jake agrees, taking Danica’s towel and spreading it over a sunny lounge chair for her.

Jake helps lower Danica gently into the pool, holding her hand while she takes the stairs, before jumping in beside you so that you’re splashed by the wave he creates.

“You are an asshole,” You laugh, breaking away from Daniel’s grip to shove at Jake’s shoulder. The grins on your faces are bright and genuine, perhaps the first time you’ve both been able to laugh with each other the entire trip. It feels nice, and you don’t fight when he shoves back at you with strong arms.

“Hey- hey!” Danica shouts, standing behind Daniel with a hand on his shoulder, “Why don’t you turn that pushing and shoving into a game of chicken?”

“I’m down,” Daniel seems thrilled to be opposite Jake as he lowers himself for Danica to climb atop his shoulders, “Y/N, you okay on his shoulders?”

Jake does the honors himself, dunking himself under the water and coming up between your legs. You barely have time to plant your hands on the top of his head, fingers twisting instinctively into his hair as you accidentally tug it while he stands at his full height again.

“Shit, sorry Hangman.” You let go of his hair, hoping you hadn’t yanked too hard. He’s forgiven, for now, so you won’t resort to childish things like hair-pulling.

“That’s okay, darlin’.” He grins, craning his neck back to meet your eye, “I like it when you tug on my hair.”

You have to overlook Jake’s suggestive comment as Danica’s already reaching for you, and you eagerly engage in a shoving match while the two men beneath you plant themselves into the bottom of the pool. You manage to get a leg up on Danica, and they’re both pushed backwards by the force of your shove, but Daniel surges forwards and ends up knocking you and his roommate right into each other.

You collapse against Danica, forehead-to-forehead, giggling like little girls. Her eyes are bright and shining with amusement, and her breath smells minty- like gum, not toothpaste. You’re more than happy to begin pushing at each other again, and though you’re confident your navy-built muscles are going to prevail, she lands a critical shove against your shoulder that throws you off-balance and sends you toppling off of Jake’s shoulders.

The water is cold, colder than you remember as you splash into it, and when you come up for air, already laughing, Jake’s facing you, having turned when you’d fallen from his shoulders. He’s grinning too, a hand already outstretched to help you up, but upon seeing you stand his eyes widen and his face drops.

“Shit.” He lunges for you, cutting through the water as his arm wraps around your back to yank you tight against his chest. You protest, grunting with exertion as you try fighting against his grip. But his muscles are impressive, and you’re trapped against his chest despite your best efforts.

“Would you cut it out? I’m trying to help you. Your top came untied.”

“What?” You splutter, water trailing down your face as you quell your instinctive struggle against his crushing hold. You realize that the reason for the extreme cold had, in fact, been because your bikini top had abandoned ship, and you barely have time to process the feeling of your bare tits slammed up against Jake’s hard, toned chest before he’s fishing the bathing suit out of the water and feeding it around your waist.

“Up,” He instructs, lifting his eyes to the expansive blue sky above you so that you can separate yourself from his chest for long enough to cover your own again. It’s- a strange gesture of courtesy that you would have expected from Daniel, sure, but not Jake. Perhaps that’s why you’re so sluggish, why it takes you longer than expected to fit your top back over your tits and grapple with the strings.

“You decent?” Jake asks, and when you grunt in confirmation he drops his eyes again. He notices you struggling with the ties and reaches for them himself, gently swatting your fingers away as he uses his advantage of sight. It presses his muscular shoulder up against your face, and you turn so that your cheek rests against it instead of your nose. Suddenly you’re held against his chest like a slow dance, and something terribly and inexplicably squirmy happens in your stomach.

“Done. I double knotted it.” He hums, and it’s such a sincere tone, one that’s completely vacant of all his usual dickishness, that you lose yourself staring at his face when he pulls away. You begin examining it for any sign that perhaps he was murdered and replaced with a poorly-trained doppelganger.

His hair looks right, albeit sopping wet. His eyebrows are growing slightly bushier than usual, but nothing you’d consider a complete and total imposter. His nose is still the same: strong, slightly downturned (though not as far as Rooster’s), and there’s a tiny patch of sunscreen that hasn’t been rubbed in near his right eye. His mouth is set in a determined purse as he double knots the strings of your bikini top together, and his eyes- his eyes are different.

Miles different than you’ve ever seen them. The outside edge of his hazel-green rings is softened, like someone has blurred their usual sharp border and lined it with suede. His pupils are huge, and they’d be eclipsing his irises if those weren’t so big and puppy-like. He is, in every sense of the word, gentle, inside and out. 

Jake has never been gentle before. 

“You alright?” He asks, and you snap back to reality with his large hands spread over the expanse of your bare back, the eyes that you’d been examining firmly and concernedly fixed upon you. Only a few meager strings separate his skin from yours, and you nod once, steadily as you gently push his arms off of you.

“Let’s go again,” You call to Danica and Daniel, your voice a piss-poor attempt at strength and nonchalance as it lacks its usual life, “Good hit, Danica. But watch out, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“Bring it,” She grins gleefully, and her giddy gaze drifts downwards to Jake’s face when he lifts you onto his shoulders yet again. From the looks of it they share some sort of silent conversation- some inside joke that you’re not privy to. 

Something about that, something about her excluding you from a conversation with your own teammate makes you shove her, not enough to knock her off of Daniel’s shoulders, but enough to show her that you’re not going easy on her. She shrieks giddily as she writhes to stay balanced on Daniel’s shoulders, a smidge less broad than Jake’s. You’re thankful for that, for the steady mount you’ve got, as you resume pushing and shoving at Danica.

Jake is going insane. Not only does the phantom sensation of your bare tits- nipples hard from the chilly pool water - stick to him like a wet t-shirt, he can feel you against the back of his neck, your warm sex nestled snugly against him with only the bottom half of your bikini to separate you. Your thighs bracket his head, close enough for him to reach out and bite at, but he has to focus on keeping his stance sturdy so that you can play properly. Daniel’s glaring viciously at him across the few feet that separates the four of you, and he’s not going to let Mr. Mailman win. 

This time, Jake suspects you’ve used that military muscle of yours, because Danica slips backwards off of Daniel’s dewy shoulders and splashes into the pool. Your hand cups beneath Jake’s chin, tilting his head upwards and leaning it back into your lap.

“Nice one,” He grins upside-down at you, and you bump your fist against his when he offers it. Then you’re craning your neck down, surely uncomfortable as you leave mere inches between your lips and his, and his ears are ringing.

“Back up,” You murmur, disguising it as a congratulatory speech while Daniel helps Danica back onto his shoulders, “Get them to chase us and we’ll use the momentum against them.”

“Darlin’,” Jake proclaims, pride puffing up his chest that your legs are resting against, “You’re my kinda woman. Always looking to win.”

“Just do it, Hangman,” You scoff, but your eye-roll is less than irritated, fond if anything due to your partnership as Jake drops his head to face Daniel and Danica once more.

Jake stands in place where he’d been before, but when Danica engages with you he begins backing up. Slowly, carefully, ensuring that his feet are planted steadily each step so that you’re not tipped over, he makes his way towards the drop off towards the deeper end of the water. Daniel follows, taking the bait, and soon enough his predicament becomes obvious: he’s not as tall as Jake.

He stands somewhere close to six feet, surely, but not past it like Jake does. Your partner’s head is still comfortably above water, smirk in full force as Daniel’s beard becomes waterlogged. 

“That’s not fair!” Danica laughs, petting sympathetically at Daniel’s sopping wet hair, “Poor guy, we’ll get you stilts for the next round.”

Daniel lands a teasing pinch against the curve of her ass and she shrieks. You lunge for her, using her momentary shock to catch her off guard as you send her tumbling backwards into the water behind Daniel. 

You don’t have time to celebrate before Jake is ducking down and slipping himself out from beneath you, his strong arms bracing your fall so that you barely sink a few feet into the water. He crushes you in a celebratory hug, his laughter harmonizing with your own. He turns you both to face Daniel and Danica as they splutter to catch their breath, his cheek pressed flush against your own. 

“Chicken Champions,” He declares, holding you tight to his side at his own height, which means your feet float above his own in the water, “I’d offer to go again, but that’d just be cruel. You ladies wanna chatter in the hot tub while Danny-Boy and I show off on the diving board?”

“I brought a book,” Danica hums, face dripping with water you feel only mildly guilty for submerging her in, “If you wanna read, Y/N, I’ll do it with you.”

“Perfect.” Daniel nods, already cutting through the water on his way to the diving board, “I’ll be careful not to splash you guys.”

“I won’t.” Jake supplies helpfully, his grin turned shit-eating as he eyes you up, “No point in reading one of them smutty porn books if you’re not soaking wet.”

“Splash me and I’ll throw your room key off the side of the boat, Hangman,” You promise, “You’ll be begging strangers to take pity on you in the elevator.”

“Nah, that’s not my style,” Jake’s voice is dripping with intent while Daniel takes position on the diving board, his swim trunks dripping steady trails of water. You don’t know why until he continues, taking his own bait, “I’ll leave that to Daniel.”

You blame Jake’s comment for why Daniel’s dive nearly turns into a belly flop. It’s instantaneous, really, Daniel’s changing of posture as he register’s Jake’s biting words, and you have half a mind to admonish Jake for riling Daniel up during a dive- that could have ended badly. As it stands, Daniel does a sort of cannonball, though not intentionally, and you and Danica cringe in unison when he lands, sending water splashing well over the divider into the hot tub. Your book remains mostly unscathed- only a droplet of water lands on the cover and obscures the male lead’s face, blurring out his beard and making him appear clean-shaven. 

Jake is already scaling the ladder, and when he gets to the top he surveys Daniel emerging from the water.

“Six,” He shrugs, sneering down at Daniel from the highest point on the deck, “‘Could’ve clinched a seven if you hadn’t splashed the ladies, but your form was still shit.”

He doesn’t give Daniel a chance to fire back- or maybe the man is just too smart to take Jake’s bait - before he sets his arms together above his head, and seamlessly, impeccably cuts through the water. For someone so muscular and bulky, his form is graceful- not that you’ll ever tell him that. Water arcs outwards from where he’d landed, one half of the splash practically targeting Daniel where he stands watching.

He swims farther, nearly reaching the other end of the pool before he emerges, shaking water from his hair like a dog as he looks intently at you and Danica in the hot tub for a rating.

“Ten!” Your reading companion shouts, blessedly unaware of the tense atmosphere- or again, too intelligent to fall for Jake’s lowly antics- and you look at the water-stained cover of your novel.

You smear away the water droplet with your dry thumb, and the male main character’s beard returns.

“Four.” You call, voice deadpan as you lock your eyes on your novel, “For playing dirty and sabotaging the other contestants.”

Hangman’s grin is open-mouthed and cemented into place as he stands taller than Daniel in the water, tanned skin standing starkly out from the blue of the chlorinated water, “Dirty’s the best way to play, darlin’.”

Danica shoots you a look from behind the spread of her novel that you’ve sent many-a-girlfriend before. It’s the wide-eyed, restrained smile that screams ‘We’re talking about this later’, and you mirror her expression with your own disdain.

“Leave us alone,” You call, grinning apologetically at Daniel so that he knows he’s only a bystander, “We want to read.”

“Let’s leave the ladies to their smut, Dorian.” Jake calls, louder than he needs to be as he stretches to display his toned abdomen and muscled arms, “We can find our own fun. Wanna see who can swim the fastest? Place your bets, ladies: pilot or mailman?”

“You swam pretty slow when you crash-landed in the Pacific that one time,” You muse, fighting to keep a smirk off of your face, “I remember thinking you would die in the time it took for you to swim back to shore.”

“Wouldn’t’ve gone so slow if I wasn’t hauling my RIO back to shore. He hit his head on the way down,” Jake dips his head towards Danica, happily regaling her with the tale,  and you realize you’ve only fluffed his ego more, “So he was unconscious. Well I couldn’t just leave him there, ‘poor guy was only a trainee. So I took him along. It did slow me down, but,” He heaves a disgusting, gaudy, fake sigh, “It was worth it to send him back home to his mama.”

You taste a hint of blood where you’ve apparently chewed through your lip. You let it go and hope nothing escapes your mouth. It would be a shame to stain the pages of your novel red.

You’re trying very hard not to pay attention to Jake and Danica where he’s engaged her in a staring contest. Well, you suppose it’s not much of a contest that she can win: the point is that you’re losing. Jake’s showing off his impressive build, still running his mouth with every vaguely self-complementary anecdote he can embellish, and Danica is taking the bait, which means that your rampant attempts to cool Jake’s ego have failed. 

You let the warm, borderline-hot water sink into your skin and simmer alongside the building irritation that threatens to blow beneath the surface. You’re tired. This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation for you- or, if not relaxing, a good way to blow off steam. You were supposed to be bent in half up against the shower wall by now, not bending the pages of your book with the strong grip you’ve cemented onto them while you mediate Jake’s ego and the willingness of so many women to accommodate it. 

Part of you wants to let loose and have fun- not with Jake, of course. Never with Jake. But part of you wants to act rationally, forget the constant rivalry between you two and let him shack up with whoever will show him her tits first. But the other part of you, the one that cheers every time he places second in a show of skill, wants to knock him down a peg. It’s why you’re so persistently humbling him- or, trying to, at least. Something about him putting on this cocky persona- erasing all human emotion to make way for pure sleaze puts you on edge, and you pity the fool who believes it.

You can’t tell if Danica’s that fool yet, because she’s turned back to her book with a smile, but to her credit she doesn’t ogle him while he’s swimming. It would be easy to- he’s all tanned muscle and gestures that show off just the right curve or vein. He knows how to preen, but Danica seems to be minding her own business. That makes it easier for you to read your own novel; you don’t feel like you have to keep an eye out for her anymore.

You’re not sure whether it’s a love for the act or a wordless competition to outswim the other that keeps Jake and Daniel occupied with lapping the pool for so long, but as more and more people filter out of their rooms and onto the deck, there’s not much room for recreation anymore.

“Are you done?” You ask Danica, peering over at her after someone unknowingly sends a wave of water straight for you both, narrowly avoiding soaking your novels.

“I think I’m done.” She nods sheepishly, rushing to stand and keep her book dry, “Should we run away before the men notice we’re leaving?”

“Excellent plan,” You laugh, but you can practically feel Jake’s eagle eye upon you as you race for your towel, leaving soaked footprints behind on the wooden deck, “We should go get some pizza. They’re making more now that it’s a little busier out here.”

“You shouldn’t stare like that.” Daniel’s irritatingly smooth voice, pitched up slightly from Jake’s and entirely free of Jake’s rugged charm, makes Jake’s lips yearn to curl into a sneer.

Jake pivots in the cold pool water to face Daniel rather unimpressed, a scoff begging to burst from his lips, “Like what?”

“Like she’s a piece of meat, or something.” Daniel’s arms are crossed, and Jake plants his feet firmly against the concrete floor of the pool.

“Oh, you’re so virtuous,” Jake drawls, his skin burning and not from the rays of sun hitting it directly, “You frenched her in an elevator, Daniel, you’ve got no room to be talking to me about class.”

“She wanted me to kiss her. She kissed me.” Daniel insists, and Jake laughs- actually laughs, a grit of his teeth and a forceful exhalation of air, “That’s different than staring at her ass while she runs away from you like you’d flip her skirt up at a drive-in movie theater.”

“Flipping skirts,” Jake laughs, sadistic grin in full force, “Daniel, I’m not that old fashioned! Please, she’s in a bathing suit that she chose, for a sex cruise that she booked, and you know what? She probably wants you to be staring at her ass in it. And you don’t seem too concerned with the other people on the deck, I’m sure a few of them are looking too. And are you worried I’m looking at Danica’s ass?”

“You’re not looking at Danica’s ass.” Daniel nearly bites his tongue in an effort to keep his voice level, “Because you’re not interested in Danica. You’re interested in Y/N and you can’t have her. She’s not yours.”

“She’s not yours, either.” Jake spits, and there’s a moment of silence where both men’s chests heave with barely-suppressed tension. Jake realizes that he’s admitted to Daniel that he has no real claim over you, but the other man doesn’t fight back against not having one of his own. But you are his, you are Jake’s, in the way you’d fallen asleep in his arms last night, in the look in your eyes when you’d stared into his own earlier, in the stain on his pajama pants.

You’d moaned his name- his name, not Daniel’s.

Someone knocks into Daniel from behind, backing right into him and nudging him slightly off balance.

“Oh!” The woman shrieks, “I’m sorry! I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s fine.” He offers her a tight smile, heading for the ladder, “Don’t worry about it.”

Jake hauls himself up out of the pool with nothing but his forearms, using his towel to dry his hair if only to show off the expanse of his chest to any who may be watching. He checks- you’re not.

“So,” Danica leans forwards into your space at the pizza counter, eyes meaningfully wide, “Tell me why he’s acting like this.”

“He always acts like this.” You scoff, and when she levels you with an unimpressed glare, you insist, “No, really! He’s just- everything is a competition to him, everything. I met his mom once, and she told me that he used to have races at the dinner table to see who could finish their food first. He kept making himself sick but as long as he’d beat his brothers he didn’t care. He always has to win, and right now, he’s competing for us.”

“No, he’s competing for you.” Danica corrects you, “Is he winning?”

“Hell no. He’s- he’s not really competing for me, not meaningfully. He just wants to say he ‘got me’, you know? That would be major bragging rights on the tarmac. But that’s exactly why I can’t give in- I can’t be known as the woman who slept with her fellow pilot! Then they wouldn’t see my achievements anymore, just my mistakes.”

“I get that.” She nods, “But how do you know he’s just gonna dump you?”

“I’ve watched him dump the whole of San Diego,” You scoff, “That’s what he does. He doesn’t do love, he’s the kind of guy who’s only ever interested in something quick and dirty.”

“Everyone does love.” Danica frowns, “Some people just start later in life than others. And I think he’s starting now. With you.”

“Love,” You laugh, and sure, it’s dramatic, but if it gets through to her, you don’t care, “A man who loves me would not have tormented me for my entire career.”

She tilts her head thoughtfully, “I think he does. Even if he doesn't act the way you think he should, even if he doesn't act the way you would, I think he does love you. I think he just loves differently. I think he's new to it. What has he done to torment you?”

You huff, grateful for the opportunity to vent, “He constantly tries one-upping me- again, he can’t lose. He just- he pokes and prods and teases me like we’re on the playground or something, and it’s non-stop. It’s not like he’s sweet most of the time and then there’s a few bouts of light teasing, it’s- it’s constant, and I can’t ever let my guard down, or I’ll lose.”

“So you’re fighting to win, too.” Her eyes narrow slightly, “Why?”

“Because. I can't be second-best, and I can’t be known as the woman who slept with her coworker. I’m not doing that.” You repeat.

“Oh," She laughs, "So you're both stubborn. You don't want to lose, either. But second-best is temporary, rankings come and go. And I understand your thing about not wanting to be known for sleeping with him, but even if you did sleep with him, the whole Navy doesn’t have to know.”

“They will, Hangman will brag. He always brags.”

“He won’t- not if he’s in love with you, not if you want him to keep it private.”

“He’s not in love with me-!”

“Four slices of Pepperoni, two cheese?” A large tray is placed between you and Danica at the counter you’re both leaning against, and it snaps the two of you out of your debate.

You turn to see one of the employees looking expectantly at you, and Danica stammers, “Uh, three cheese.”

“Sorry.” He smiles placatingly at her, scooping another slice onto the plate, “Three cheese.”

“Thank you.” You take the pepperoni pizza, leaving Danica to collect the cheese. You feel bad for walking away, even if you know she’s hot on your trail, but you feel frustratingly suffocated, like everyone is urging you to make the biggest mistake of your life and never considering why you simply can’t. She doesn’t know Jake, she hasn’t spent the last decade with him as he’s blown his way through tourist after tourist, bragging all the while. And he doesn’t understand what it would be like- even if he wasn’t looking to win, even if he did just want to try casual sex for fun, you’d never be able to escape that reputation. 

You feel like you’re going crazy, and you plop down between Jake and Daniel where they sit at opposite sides of a table, ready to stuff your face with pizza instead of dealing with any of it.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[helluvapoison]

Lend A Helping Hand

Lucifer, Adam, Lute, Vaggie and Husk need help preening

warnings: possible innacurate bird knowledge, heaven headcanons (also probably innacurate) illusions to sexual behavior but it’s not

[ii]

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

˚✧₊⁎ Lucifer ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Lilith used help… when she was around. The thought of asking someone else, much less the act itself, scorched him with guilt

• Oh well. Lucifer did it before, Heaven had rules about it, so he can do it again! And of course he did! It doesn’t mean it’s not an excruciatingly long process he puts off as long as he can tolerate

• You walk in on him attempting to strain his arms in ways they certainly shouldn’t bend. “Need some help?”

• “Pfft, who me? No, no, no I—“ He pauses. It’s like the predicament he’s been caught in settles in slowly, his smile dropping and crimson irises widening to rival a puppy’s cuteness. “Yes.” He admits meekly

• Your fingers barely touch his feathers and Lucifer jolts. Like him, his wings are so sensative

• Don’t take it personally when he tries to back out after that, cheeks bright red from embarrassment. He has six wings and can barely tolerate your touch as is. This could take a while, he already feels bad

• After a teaspoon more of convincing and a gallon of reassurance later, Lucifer sits as still as he can (which isn’t very) while you gently break open the pin feathers

• You could tease if you wanted, make a joke to try and settle his nerves but something tells you his wings aren’t the only thing that’s sensitive

• Lucifer appreciates your assistance and tenderness more than words can describe, nothing seems like a big enough gift to reward your hard work

˚✧₊⁎ Adam ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Usually it’s Lute that would help him (and vice versa if he feels like it) but she’s nowhere to be found. He can’t casually ask anyone else. Heaven and its inhabitants can be weird about certain shit, preening is no exception— even though everyone has wings here!

• Walking past Adam’s office, you heard a crash and a lot of swearing. “Sir, are you—?”

“Unless you’re gonna help, fuck right off!” He growls from the ground, still reaching at an awkward angle for his wings

• He’s shocked when you sit on your knees beside him and swat his hand away. “If you make this weird, I will leave.” You warn. He doesn’t dare make even a single comment

• Adam shivers when your fingers glide into his feathers. You wave it off the first time but can’t stop a laugh when it happens again

Face first into the carpet, his loud voice is muffled, “Shut! Up!”

• You take pity on him and don’t drag the process longer than necessary. Awarding yourself a final pet of his oddly soft wings, you stand up, “There. All better?”

• Rising to his feet and giving his wings an experimental stretch, he shrugs nonchalantly, “Thanks. I guess.”

• The next day, you receive a basket from Goody-2-Shoes with various snacks. The card reads, ‘Let me know when I can return the favor. Wings don’t have to be included. ~ A’

˚✧₊⁎ Lute ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• You know she needs help when she’s more irritable than usual. Snapping at everyone, even Adam, and flinching when her wings move in the slightest

• Approaching the subject with her is harder than anyone. As aforementioned it’s unspokenly taboo but that isn’t what stops her. Lute’s deep rooted issues with intimacy and needing help will make her walls thicker than ever

• “This is inappropriate,” Lute whispers.

In the dead of night she’s finally allowed you to assist but keeps fidgeting and surveying the area like someone will catch you two.

“It is not,” You roll your eyes, “Get your mind out of the gutter and be still! I’ll have you’ll feeling better in no time.”

• She seriously, seriously doubts that. Anything she can’t do herself, amongst certain divine exceptions, no one could do for her

• …But she’s letting you help (and your adept fingers are doing a better job) So either she doesn’t fully believe that, or you miraculously raised her expectations

• Lute decides the latter is acceptable– and a compliment, especially since you prove her wrong. Triple checking her wings, she can’t find a flaw or deny how wonderful they feel now.

• “This is adequate.”

You snort, “You could just say thanks?”

“How can I repay you?”

“I just told you.”

• She narrows her eyes, shocked and suspicious that you wouldn’t want anything. Lute, again, decides that your endeavor deserves an equal act of goodwill. Don’t take it for granted when she says, “No. I owe you one. One.”

˚✧₊⁎ Vaggie ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• She genuinely forgets what’s wrong with her when she needs to preen. Even with her wings folded away, the irritable pricking can be felt. She’s itching the back of her neck, hand clawing under the crew of her shirt and dipping between her shoulder blades when you ask when’s the last time she checked for pin feathers

• Vaggie’s always been independent. Up in Heaven she was a bit cocky with the fact she never needed help to reach them. Now, she felt helpless and stupid. Her arms cramped up, her hair kept getting in the way and the itching only progressed

• “Can I–?”

“No.” Her ivory eyes go wide, surprised at the fury of her own voice. Sighing and avoiding your (what she assumed was a) pitiful gaze, she apologizes. “Sorry. I don’t know why I… I used to be able to do this alone.”

Pausing at how defeated Vaggie sounds, you do your best to keep a positive, neutral tone.

“Cut yourself some slack, you haven’t done this in years. And, y’know, you don’t have to do it alone now. Not if you don’t want.”

• Smiling at the offer hanging in the air but not quite accepting, she goes about her managerial duties only to knock on your door afterwards

• Vaggie’s so grateful you can’t see how dark her face becomes as you sort through her wings. They’re not sensitive, they never were– it’s something about your fingers delicately touching her that cracks her resolve. Now she starts to understand why this was seen as an intimate act upstairs

• “Thanks for…” Still blushing, she gestures to her wings before hiding them, “Thanks.”

You try to keep up with her indifference but can’t help the smile spreading across your face.

“No problem.”

• If you think she’s not replaying the moment over and over in her head for days afterwards, you’re wrong. Vaggie’s desperately waiting for the moment to be just as useful to you

˚✧₊⁎ Husk ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• He’s hardly a fan of Angel touching him the way he does so a solid relationship is required to unlock the level of trust needed for this activity

• The first time it happens when you’re in his life, he won’t ask but also doesn’t reject the offer. Just looks extremely hesitant and uncomfortable

• Carefully, you pinch the rough layer and eye Husk from over his shoulder

• He breathes out a laugh, “Gonna take more than that to hurt me, sugar. Go on, I’ll be fine.”

• His wings might be the least sensitive… but that could also be all that alcohol in his system

• Husk hums as you work. After he gives a big, cat-like stretch and thanks you with a tip of his hat

• The simple gesture means more than you know, he’ll never forget it

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ accidentally on purpose put them from most to least sensitive wings hehehe

big big big BIG thank you to @kottenox for the inspiration and letting me take this idea and run!

[stclaretarot]

PICK A CARD ⭒ a message meant to find you you right now?

reminder that this is a general reading and messages found here may not apply to everyone. take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and don't force anything if it does not fit.

BOOK A READING WITH ME · LINKTREE · 18+ PATREON · TIPS ♡ tips, bookings, and feedback are highly appreciated!

GROUP ONE

cards pulled · knight of cups, five of pentacles, the lovers, ten of pentacles, king of cups. 

channelled songs · blue by beyoncé & blue ivy. like it like that by pip millett. bigger by beyoncé. between the bars by eliott smith.

my dear group one  ♡ brace yourself, dear, because love is closer to you than you think! it is closer to you than you could ever imagine! 

not only is it closer to you in the span of time, but physically closer to you, as your next love may be someone who is around you. this is someone who you may not necessarily be friends with or even talk to, but who you share a schedule with. for example, someone you commute with or see at the coffee shop or see at the gym. 

whatever the specifics, this seems to be someone who you have not really paid much attention to or thought of as a romantic prospect. 

however, very soon, things are going to change. and they are going to change for the better!

GROUP TWO

cards pulled · eight of swords, page of pentacles, the hierophant, the emperor, seven of pentacles.

channelled songs · filter theory by coa white. alive by shinee. get back by pop smoke. walk by nct 127. 

my dear group two  ♡ what you must know, my dear, is that your anxiety is stopping you from seeing your way out of your current situation. you are a bird in a cage, the cagedoor is wide open, and you want to be free but you are afraid of what freedom would be like. 

you are stuck. you are stagnant. you are afraid to take a step forward and unwilling to accept your life for what it is. 

it’s kind of weird becauseyou want things to happen in your life, to change,  but… at the same time… you have no idea what you want out of life. you have no idea what exactly in your life you want to change. 

it’s time to sit down and do some introspection.

GROUP THREE

cards pulled · page of cups, the lovers, four of swords, page of swords, king of pentacles.

channelled songs · wait for it from hamilton. blue by taemin. honey - remix by mariah carey & mase. youngblood by 5 seconds of summer.

my dear group three ♡ what you must know is that soon you will find out why things have turned out the way that they have. why things have fallen apart. why things have not worked out before, or worked out in the way you had hoped. especially where love and work is concerned. 

a better lover or business partner is coming towards you. this is a lover who can actually meet your needs in all the ways you have desired. or this is a business partner/job opportunity who will actually be paying you what you deserve.

for some, it is a combination of both, as these areas of your life will be blooming. wait for it! just a little longer!

GROUP FOUR

cards pulled · ten of cups, king of pentacles, knight of pentacles, ace of pentacles, four of wands.

channelled songs · desperado by rihanna. cry baby by megan thee stallion. punch and judy by elliott smith. good luck, babe! by chappell roan.

my dear group four  ♡ what you must know right now is that all that glitters is not gold. things are not as good as they seem, and people you are exhausting yourself for would never in their life do the same for you. 

you have idealised or romanticised a certain relationship, especially a familial relationship, and just accepted that it is normal for you to put everything you have into it. 

but what about yourself? you can only give so much to othes, before it becomes detrimental to yourself and your health. it is time to start doing more for yourself. to take care of yourself. to celebrate yourself. and, more than that, to spoil yourself. 

[gudfornuthin]

Unexpected Comfort

Season 4!Diego x fem!reader, (past) Five x reader

! SPOILERS AHEAD !

! MINORS DNI !

Summary: after finding out the news about Lila and Five’s relationship, Y/N needs to get away from it all. Who knew she’d find comfort in the one other person broken too?

Word count: 2.65k words

A/N: ayooo. I wanna thank everyone for the support I received from my Five fanfic, it means the world to me that people read and enjoy my writing. I’m definitely thinking about ideas for a part 2, and I also have some requests I need to complete, but for now this lil thing popped into my head and I had to make it. My sweet Diego deserved so much more. There’s fluff, there’s angst, there’s a lil bit of smut (I’m trying to get better at writing that lol) so I hope you all enjoy. Feedback is always appreciated

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

Those were the words that came out of Five’s mouth before Y/N stormed out of the house, leaving behind the shocked faces of the Hargreeves siblings.

Five had cheated on her. With Lila. Diego’s wife, the mother of his children. She felt like throwing up. They’d created a life together, seeming to forget all about the life they had here, in the real world. Five tried explaining how a few hours to her had been years for him and Lila, but Y/N wasn’t having it. She couldn’t imagine giving up on a relationship she’d spent so long working on, like it meant nothing at all. At least they weren’t married with kids. She doesn’t want to think about how much this is killing Diego.

Having left the house, ignoring the calls from the family, Y/N continued walking for what seemed like hours. She wasn’t familiar with this side of town, and the dark streets all blended together. Had she already gone this way? Was there a bus stop she could seek shelter under for the time being? The night was getting colder and she was finding it hard to catch her breath, the tears still flowing. She knew she couldn’t continue on for much longer.

After walking a few more blocks, Y/N finally spots a bar/diner, the lights still on inside. Better than nothing, she thinks, as she slowly makes her way towards it, in desperate need of a drink.

The diner is quiet, only a few patrons scattered around, either drunk or on the verge of passing out. The bar tender nods in acknowledgment when Y/N sits on one of the bar stools, asking what she wants.

“I’ll just have a beer.”

The bar tender rolls his eyes. “What kinda beer?”

Y/N shrugs. “The cheapest one you’ve got.”

He wonders off to sort out her order, as she rests her head in the palms of her hands, closing her eyes and trying not to sob like a baby. The pain in her chest still lingers, as she can’t escape the images of Five and Lila, and the life they had made together. The life that should’ve been hers. With everything going on, she’d almost forgotten about the world ending, again. But that was surprisingly the least of her worries at the moment. She just wanted to scream, and punch and kick anything that got in her way. She needed a cigarette. And she doesn’t even smoke.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

A voice sounds off to the side of Y/N, as she slowly opens her eyes. A beer bottle stands in front of her, and she turns to her left, spotting Diego in the seat next to hers. He looks worse for wear. Red eyes, prominent frown lines, and a pouty lip.

“You look like a kicked puppy,” Y/N mumbles, not knowing what else to say.

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Diego replies in a gruff voice, grabbing for her beer and taking a swig.

The pair go quiet, listening to the soft tune playing through the overhead speakers, dwelling in their own thoughts. The two of them had never exactly been close. Since Y/N joined the family she’d always gravitated more towards Klaus and Alison. Frankly, she didn’t understand why Diego was here with her. Maybe because they were both dealing with the same situation, with both their partners being the main focal point. Or maybe he was just in desperate need for a drink too, as shown when he downs the rest of the bottle. Y/N alerts the bar tender, putting up two fingers to ask for a second round. Hopefully she can actually have some this time.

“Was I a bad husband?” Diego finally speaks up, breaking the somewhat awkward silence.

Y/N glances his way, unsure of how to respond.

She clears her throat. “I dunno if I’m the right person to answer that,” she scratches at the label on the beer bottle. “But from what I saw, you were pretty good at it.”

He doesn’t say anything, so she continues. “And you’re also a good dad. I can’t imagine how hard it was, going from one apocalypse to another, to just living a normal life. Pretending none of it ever happened. You didn’t let that get in the way of taking care of your kids. They know you’re a good dad.”

She notices the tears forming in Diego’s eyes and looks away, knowing he wouldn’t want others to see him cry. She sips her drink, the burning sensation hitting the back of her throat.

“For what it’s worth,” Diego starts, “you’re not a bad girlfriend.”

“I never thought I was,” Y/N bites back, her tone harsher than she wanted it to be. “But what are you supposed to think when the love of your life admits to having an affair?” She laughs bitterly. “With his fucking sister in law!”

“Hey, you’re preaching to the choir here,” Diego says, rubbing incessantly at his eyes. “Just tryna make you feel better.”

“Well you didn’t.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

They bask in silence again, both too stubborn to apologise for snapping at each other. They know neither of them are in the wrong. But the wounds are still fresh, and it doesn’t seem like they’ll heal anytime soon.

Almost an hour passes, along with 9 or 10 bottles of beer between them, when the bartender finally tells them it’s closing time. They both get out of their seats, leaving the bar and standing awkwardly outside in the cold, Y/N shivering having left the house without a coat.

“You cold?” Diego dumbly asks.

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Well done, Sherlock.”

Diego looks as if he’s about to say something in retort, but chooses not to. Instead, he silently slips off his jacket, handing it over to her, insisting she takes it before she can refuse. She does so, mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’. They continue standing outside the bar, watching the occasional car drive past, lighting them up every so often.

“I can’t go back there,” Y/N says. “Not yet anyways.”

It was a stupid thing to think that this could all be avoided. She’d eventually have to face Five properly, let him explain fully what happened during that time he was away. But she couldn’t. She doesn’t want an explanation, or an excuse. She just wants it erased from her memory. To forget about it all. To forget about Five.

Diego puts his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, I’m not in the mood to figure out that shit show tonight.”

He pauses for a beat, then briefly glances at Y/N. “There’s a motel not too far from here. We can grab a couple of rooms, take the time to get some rest, and figure all this out tomorrow.”

She doesn’t say anything, simply nodding in agreement, and following Diego to their accommodation for the night.

***

The pair arrive at the dingy looking motel, booking two rooms next to each other, and muttering quick goodnights. Y/N can feel the exhaustion taking over, as she sits down on the bed, and yet the thought of falling asleep makes her anxious. She can’t remember the last time she went to bed alone. It was always Five right by her side, comforting her if she had any nightmares. Which had become more and more frequent the past few weeks.

She tries distracting herself by turning on the tv, flicking through empty channels and purposely avoiding the news. She takes a shower, scrubbing off the physical and metaphorical grime. It helps her feel slightly better, but still she’s wide awake. She walks laps around the room, which isn’t much considering the bed takes up most of the space. And yet she still can’t sleep.

Her mind wanders to the man in the room next to hers. Is Diego having the same issues as she is? Or has he completely worn himself out to the point of passing out for the next several hours. Is it too forward if she goes over there and asks to stay with him for the night? He could end up giving her a weird look and slamming the door in her face. Or he could see a woman, sad and distressed, and know she’s just in need of someone to comfort her. The risk is worth the reward.

Y/N leaves her room, stumbling slightly over her own feet, the alcohol starting to take effect. She steadies herself, standing in front of Diego’s door and knocking. It takes a moment, but he finally opens, shirtless and hair a mess.

“What’s up?” He says, his voice gruff.

Standing in front of him now, Y/N can’t help but feel stupid. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with her problems right now, not when he’s still trying to figure out his own. The only thing on Diego’s mind is most likely Lila, and getting some much needed rest. This was a bad idea.

“Uh,” she shakes her head. “It’s nothing, no. I shouldn’t have disturbed you, I’m sorry.”

She begins to walk away, trying not to fall over, until Diego’s voice calls her name. She turns, seeing him standing half way out of his room, a sad expression on his face.

“Neither of us really wanna be alone right now,” he says, motioning slightly for her to follow him through the door.

She waits a second, unsure if this was the best idea. Now feeling as if they were both about to cross a barrier that neither of them could walk back through.

Taking the plunge, Y/N silently follows Diego into his room, closing the door behind her. She suddenly felt nervous, unsure as to why. Diego is already back in bed, getting comfortable under the covers, ready for a much needed sleep. Y/N looks at the bed, then towards the small couch, not knowing which one she’s welcome on.

“Diego…”

“It’s fine,” he rolls over, not looking at her. “You can build a pillow wall if it’ll make you feel better.”

Y/N nods, not wanting to admit how glad she was that she could sleep next to Diego tonight. She’d feel this way about anyone at the moment, right? It’s got nothing specifically to do with him. Her mind is racing, as she climbs into bed, hoping to fall into a deep slumber as quick as. She doesn’t build a pillow wall.

***

Barely an hour passes before Y/N is woken up suddenly by a sound. She sits up in bed, eyes bleary and watery, looking around the room with squinting eyes. The bathroom light is on, shining through the cracks, and Diego is no longer beside her.

She hears the sound again, a soft whimper, barely audible. It’s coming from the bathroom, and she can already guess who it is. She slowly scoots out of bed, tiptoeing on unsteady feet towards the door, knocking slightly. No answer. And the noise has stopped.

She knocks again, trying the door handle at the same time. It budges, as she gradually pulls it open. The sight was heartbreaking. Diego sits in a curled up ball in the corner, covering his face, and desperately trying to stop his heavy breathing. He doesn’t acknowledge Y/N’s presence, as she moves over to him, crouching down. She gently grabs his hands, pulling them away to see his red, tear stained face.

“I’ve lost everything,” he whispers, breaking Y/N’s heart more than it already was. “I feel like my life’s over.”

Y/N strokes his hands, trying her best to soothe him in anyway that might work.

“I have no purpose without her,” he continues. “I try saving the world, but I couldn’t save the one thing that matters the most to me. I’m useless.”

“That is not true,” Y/N finally replies, hating these thoughts running through Diego’s mind. “Her actions are not a reflection on you.”

Diego begins to protest, but Y/N quickly shuts him down. “I know how much you care. Sometimes I think you care a little too much. But that just proves how good of a husband and father you were. You did nothing wrong. It’s all on her. And Five.”

She chokes out the last part, almost forgetting about her own problems. They’re both going through this, together.

Y/N doesn’t even realise she’s now crying too, holding her hand up to her mouth to muffle the sound of her sobs. Diego reaches out, pulling her into a bone crushing hug, the pair needing comfort from each other more than anything.

She moves her head back slightly, kissing Diego on the forehead, then the cheek, then hesitating at his lips. Her mind feels fuzzy, as the alcohol in her system still lingers, jumping between the pros and cons of what she’s about to do. Diego makes the decision for her.

The kiss is soft at first, his moustache tickling her upper lip, the sensation of it weird but not unpleasant. She wraps her arms around his neck as he puts his hands on both sides of her face, deepening it into a full blown make out session. Y/N opens her mouth, allowing Diego to slip his tongue in, eliciting a quiet moan from her.

Their current position is uncomfortable, as Diego sits pressed up against the sink with Y/N crouched down in front of him. He pushes her back slightly, so they can both stand, never stopping the kiss. The room feels hot, as they walk out of the bathroom and aim for the bed, Diego sitting down on the edge with Y/N straddling his lap. She quickly removes her top and bra, drawing the man’s attention to her breasts. He moves away from her lips, traveling down until he’s eye level with her chest. He takes one in his mouth, sucking harshly, while his hand massages the other.

“Oh fuck,” Y/N sighs, throwing her head back.

She grabs his hair, pulling a fistful of it, forcing Diego to suck harder. She moves her hips back and forth on his crotch, desperately wanting to get out of the rest of her clothes.

As if reading her mind, Diego pulls back, moving them both higher up the bed, quickly removing his pants as Y/N does the same. Now completely nude, the pair become a sweaty mess of body and limbs, wrapping themselves around each other, and making sounds the other occupants in the motel can definitely hear.

Diego’s thrusts are meticulous, as he hooks one of his arms under her leg, pushing in and out, knowing all the right places to make Y/N scream out in ecstasy. He kisses her lips, her neck, her chest and her breasts, not wanting to leave out any part of her. He makes her feel wanted, admired, needed. Like he can’t breathe without her. It feels good. They carry on into the night, and early morning, for a moment all their problems don’t exist anymore.

***

Y/N wakes up first. Her head is pounding, her mouth is dry, and there’s a dull ache between her legs. She grumbles, the memories of last night rushing back to her in an instant. Some good, some bad, and some unforgettable. A small part of her is consumed with guilt, knowing what she did could be seen as hypocritical.

But as Diego’s strong arm wrapped around her waist pulls her closer to his chest, snuggling into her neck, that feeling washes away. In some selfish way, they both needed this. An eye for an eye, as most would say. It’s not going to end well, and she knows they’ll have to eventually deal with the consequences the same way Five and Lila did, but for now, the rest of the world can wait a while. Y/N turns around, moving impossibly closer to Diego, the man who made her feel wanted at a time where she didn’t think she was.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Where Do You End Pt. 3

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03! - Pt. 2

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, angst, body swap, mentions of smut, humor, horniness, very weird

Summary/Warnings: You and Dean have a talk.

Author's Note: Here we go. Dean about the be on his KNEES (for several reasons)

Word Count: 5.3k

A lot was happening. 

Cold wind had filled Dean’s body—Her body—and then suddenly the bunker library was gone. Sammy was gone. Everything was gone, and he felt like he’d been flipped in and out, turned in a circle, and everything was spinning when the world came back into focus. 

And he was so fucking confused.

He was back in his own body. Taller, easier to control, better to reach high things with, and less likely to accidentally move too fast and slam into something. He had his own legs and arms and feet and hands.

Dean had never really appreciated his hands before this. But son of a bitch, he’d missed them. One week without them, and he’d failed to open jars, had Her fancy, looping handwriting that he couldn’t even read, and dropped three guns. She could always hold a gun easily, but Dean had almost taken Sammy’s ear off.

He’d never take his hands for granted again.

He’d never take his body for granted. As fun as boobs had been for about two days—he’d never touched them, She would’ve killed him, but he’d liked watching them bounce—he’d quickly gotten sick of bras and how sometimes they just hurt. A lot of Her body had just hurt at random points through every single damn day. Dean was never going to be sure how She just did things, because he’d gotten a fresh wave of what Sammy had called post-menstrual syndrome, and he’d wanted to kill someone. 

He’d missed being taller, missed having Little Dean, missed not needing to worry about walking through the gas station at night—he’d had to start taking Sammy every time he wanted some pie, and he was never going to leave Her alone in a bar again—and not having to keep track of his goddamn hair all the time.

Even now it was too long. He’d been ready for a cut by the time the curse had hit, and somehow over just one week of being unattended, Dean felt like he had a mane. When he rubbed a hand over his jaw he could feel stubble, and She hadn’t even left him a razor. Or scissors.

If fact, the room seemed to be mostly empty, save for a lot of books, some stray ritual materials on the floor, and the motel furniture. There wasn’t even food or beer, and the bed looked hardly slept in, and Dean had a feeling that all those books would have worn pages from Her attention.

He didn’t quite know what he’d expected, when they switched back. A warning would’ve been nice, or a heads up that he’d suddenly be transported to the middle of freakin’ nowhere. All he knew what that She’d spent the week somewhere rainy, with trees and a view of the ocean, crashing up in waves on the rocks. Somewhere where the motels had cabin-like furniture and a lot of photos of bird and moose. 

This limited information told Dean that he was either on the upper East Coast, or the upper West Coast. 

So if he called Sam and took a gamble, he had a fifty percent chance of getting rescued, along with an equal shot of being stranded even longer as Sammy fucked off in the wrong direction and Dean tried to work out where the hell She’d landed him.

But if Dean was here, She’d be back in the bunker with Sam. So, hopefully, She wouldn’t be so pissed that she’d just leave Dean to find his own way back. 

Hopefully when Dean got back, She’d still be there.

He’d spent most of the week scowling at books and random points on the wall, trying to figure out how the hell he was going to fix this. He couldn’t lose this. He couldn’t lose Her.

And She did love him. She’d said she loved Dean, and she’d used the present tense, and there was still hope. He’d fix this. Dean had spent the whole week repeating to himself that he would fix this. He’d read a bunch on articles online, asked Sam what he did when Eileen was pissed—Sam had said Eileen never got that pissed at him, so Dean had thrown out all his lettuce—and tried to call Her over and over to fix this.

Dean had been worried She wasn’t getting his messages. He’d started to feel something heavy and sickening grow in his stomach, because She could have been in danger. Sam said She’d been emailing him about the curse, but maybe whoever had been hurting Her had gotten her laptop, and they’d been using the emails to throw Sam and Dean off the trail. Maybe She’d been waiting for Dean to come help Her, but he’d just been brooding so now she thought he didn’t care.

Her laptop was still open, and when Dean clicked on her inbox, his emails had been left unread. Her phone was on the bed, and he could still see all his messages on the notification screen. She hadn’t been in danger. 

She’d just been ignoring him. 

And he could feel his jaw clench—his hands fist and his brow draw—as anger began to settle in his muscles and throat, but he didn’t have the right to it.

Because Dean was pretty sure She thought he didn’t care. 

About Her. 

“She just needs space, dude.” Sam had looked up at him from across the war room table about a week ago, his voice dangerously close to a lecture tone. “She just found out you’ve been lying to her for years-“

“I lied for her.” Dean had snapped, glaring at his phone. “Why won’t she call me back-“

“Because as far as she’d concerned, you just lied. She doesn’t care that it was for her,” Sam had put quotation marks around those last words, and Dean had scowled. “She cares that you didn’t think about her at all-“

Dean head had snapped up, his eyes narrowing. “Shut the fuck up, Sammy, of course I care about her-“

“I know that.” Sam hadn’t wavered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Because you tell me. But all you’ve done with her is make her feel confused and dumb-“

“She’s not dumb-“

“I fucking know that Dean! I’m trying to tell you how she feels-“

“I wouldn’t need you to tell me,” Dean’s words had been pushed through his teeth, and he’d been damn near ready to punch Sam in the face or smash his phone on the table. “If she’d pick up the phone.”

Sam had given Dean a long, odd look, and then shaken his head. “Whatever, man. Not the love of my life who’s gonna hate my guts.”

Dean had felt the blood leave his face. He’d felt his whole world shatter just a little, felt his heart fucking stop. Just go dead in his chest, because She didn’t hate him. She loved him. Dean had decided that he’d be fine not being able to touch Her or hold Her as close as he wanted, because at least She’d be safe, and She’d never hate him. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to look in the mirror and see anything but a rotten, cracked pile of trash if She hated him.

But he’d looked in the mirror that same night, and he’d seen Her. Awesome, smart, funny Her.

He’d never known what he’d done to trick someone so beautiful into loving him. Dean had been satisfied knowing that possibly, maybe, hopefully, he could’ve been good enough.

That even if he’d never get to have Her, he’d been good enough for Her to trust him, to let him hold Her heart in his hands and keep it safe, just as he’d built his own heart to sit on an alter that was made of Her. An alter that tended to and existed only for Her, that would shatter and cave if he ever became something horrible enough to make Her not want him-

Son of a bitch.

He’d gotten it. 

He’d stared at Her reflection, and he’d felt it, in Her chest. Worked out why he’d spent every moment in Her body trailing after himself, and moving to his will, leaning into his own touch. Why his eyes kept scanning around rooms for something he didn’t understand, but would know when he found it. Why when he’d taken a shower and the smell of his shampoo had drifted through the steam, everything in his body—Her body—had relaxed.

She’d built Her own alter.

To Dean. 

Of all fucking people, She really did love him in the way he’d always refused to hope for. He’d wanted—for Her sake and his own painful reparation—for Her love to be strong and real, but fleeting.

He’d prayed that She did love him, and She’d always like him, but it would pass and Dean wouldn’t have to spend his life forcing himself a few steps back from grabbing Her and fusing Her love into his ribs until he could really fucking feel it.

He hadn’t wanted to feel it. He’d wanted Her love to wither, so Dean could tend to his own selfish desire in peace, and She could be happy.

A piece of him had hated the idea of Her being happy without him. But that had been part of the sacrifice. Dean would have to break himself down until he learned how to stop getting jealous when Her attention drifted, when he figured out how to lie to himself about not caring if She settled safely with some boring douchebag in a way that stuck on his body. 

He’d told himself that one day She’d start flirting at a bar, and his legs would forget to chase after Her because he really did want Her to be happy. 

But now he could feel it. He had been able to feel the part of Her that moved and rolled and hummed only for Dean.

He’d started rehearsing his speech that night.

He had a whole thing ready. He’d tell Her she was right. He’d stay he was sorry, and that he’d make the same choice a million times to keep Her safe but he’d never be able to live with himself She thought he didn’t care. He’d say he cared. He’d say it over and over until She understood that Dean could be reduced to ash and sand, and he’d still care. He was just bad at it. He was just bad in general. But he loved Her, and that made him feel okay.

He’d practiced in his head when he was in Her body—using Her voice to apologize to Her had felt strange and wrong—and he spent the time while he waited for Sammy to arrive going over it in the mirror. She’d forgive him. He’d run the speech by Sam, and Sam had rolled his eyes and called Dean a loser and an idiot, but he’d said it would probably be fine. 

It would be fine.

Sam said Dean would be picked up in a day, and he’d get to back Her, apologize, and everything would be fine.

He packed Her things as he waited, running over the speech one last time as he heard the rumble of Baby’s engine outside.

But when there was a knock at the door, it wasn’t Sam standing on the other side. 

——————

It’s raining. 

It fucking raining.

You’re standing outside in the rain, your hair clinging to you brow and your clothing stuck to your bone, and Dean’s staring at you like he’s seen a ghost, and this is so dumb.

“Hi.” Your voice is flat and not as strong as you’d like, but you’d also been out here for a minute before he’d answered the door, and the cold is already sinking too deep into your skin.

“Uh,” Dean stares at you, a small line forming in his brow. “I thought you’d be Sam.”

“I’m not.” You raise your chin slightly, holding his gaze. “I’ve had enough of being someone else for a long, long time.”

“I- you- Uh,” he clears his throat, and there’s something shaken and slightly off in his gaze, something that makes him falter. “I’ve never been good at-“

“Am I allowed inside?”

Dean blinks at you, his brow fully drawing, and you roll your eyes.

“It’s raining, Dean.”

He frowns, scanning over the grass behind you and the pavement, and the sight of the mist and darkened concrete almost seems to shock him. He stands a little taller, almost stumbles back, and grabs your arm.

Yanking you right inside after him.

Forcing your body to fall right over his, keeping you there for a brief second as you regain your balance, and then just fucking moving away.

He’d been so warm. He hadn’t quite smelled right, but you’d smelled like him, and it had made up the difference. His strong, steady arm had wrapped around your back for a second, and then he’d left you standing in the center of the room as he shuffled away.

He’d left you standing alone.

Nothing had changed.

“I missed you.”

You glower at the air, turning to see that his voice had come from the bathroom. The door has been left ajar, and you can see him moving around inside, and you hate that you’re still listening. That it’s Dean’s voice—his real voice, with all that same gravity he always has and the deep sound almost a bass in your chest—so you’re clinging to it like it’s wood and you’ve been set adrift.

Dean set you adrift. He’s the one stranded you and threw you to the waves and lied. Then he’d always pulled you just close enough to the shore for you to foolishly believe he’d left you rest somewhere warm, and then he’d fucking left again.

“You missed me.” Your voice has a little more fire behind it, and you can feel it bubbling up in your neck and stomach. The explosion. “You fucking missed me?”

Dean’s head pokes through the door, and there’s a small frown on his face. “Of course I-“

“Did you really miss me? Or are you just saying that when you secretly want me gone?”

He flinches. Dean visibly recoils, like you’ve stabbed him, and you’d feel worse about that if he hadn’t broken your heart into pieces with the blunt end of a gun and then fused you back together a little more his than before. A little more devoted—because at least he’d cared enough to pay you any mind—and a little angrier.

Dean says your name slowly, you hold your hand up, and his mouth shuts closed in a second.

“We’re going to fight, Dean.” You let out a slow breath, scanning over his face. “We’re going to fight, and then I’m going to leave.”

His eyes widen, something wild and panicked flashing behind them. “You’re-“

“I’m leaving with you. Or without you. But I,” you sigh, squeezing your eyes shut because you can’t look at him. He looks wounded and smaller than he should be, and he can’t do that. Not now. “I need to know, now. I need to know why you lied, and why you just made me stay in love with you-“

“I didn’t mean to.” He mutters, and his voice is soft, and you still won’t look at him. “I didn’t- You had to be safe-“

“I was safe-“

“Yeah, you were. But you wouldn’t have been, with me.” 

Something’s passed to your hands, and it’s soft and warm. You risk one eye open to stare at the fluffy towel in your hands, and Dean’s still talking.

“You woulda had a target, people with me and Sammy always get targets, and they always end up dead. And I-“ He chokes on something, and you’re staring at his knees. You still feel like you’re seeing too much. “I couldn’t lose you. I don’t- I won’t lose you. I needed to protect you, and I wanted you to be happy-“

You scoff, glowing at his thighs. “That’s a lie. You always stopped me from moving on-“

“I know-“

“You don’t know, Dean!” You’re shouting at his stomach, strangling the towel in your hands. “You have no idea how- It hurt! It hurt all the time that you’d say you didn’t love me, and then you’d turn around and tell me nobody was good enough for me, and I- I was confused, and lost, and lonely-“

He says your name, and you shake your head at his chest. 

“No! I would’ve been safe! I’m always safe with you-“

Dean’s laugh is dry and humorless. “That’s not-“

“It is. You-“ You choke on the air, and the base of his neck tenses. “I don’t trust just anyone, Dean, and I trusted you with my life, I loved you-“

“Loved?”

You stare at him, and he’s never been so still. Like he thinks that if he even breathes a little too loud, you’ll bolt. 

And he looks pained. 

You can feel it. In your own chest there’s a phantom of something clenching at your heart, and there’s a wired tension in your muscles that you’d grown used to over the past week. 

He’s shivering a little. It’s humid in the motel room, and he’s dry, but Dean’s shivering. 

And it’s a little hard to breathe.

“Love.” You whisper. “I love you. But it hurts, Dean. It really fucking hurts.”

He bows his head, and only mutters, “I- I had to protect you-“

He keeps repeating that, like it’s a mantra or prayer. Like he can make it real, if he just says it over and over until the words are only sounds.

“You didn’t need to protect me Dean, and you know it.” You sigh, rubbing your neck with a hand as Dean seems to curl into himself. “You were just afraid.”

He flinches again. “I-“

“But you are not a coward, Dean Winchester.” You force your voice to be a little stronger, your spine moving to stand slightly taller as you watch him. “You are an asshole, and a masochist, and self-sacrificing dick, and the best man I know.”

He glances up at you, swallowing slightly, and you push on.

“You’re clever, and resilient, and loyal, and caring. You’d give your life in a second for anyone, and you’d give your happiness for the people you love because you are an idiot who can’t see how it kills us. I did not fall in love with you against my will. I am a smart woman, and I chose you.” You narrow your eyes at him, taking a firm step closer. You can feel something charged and bright moving between your bodies, and you don’t know if it starts in him or you, but it’s all the same. Right now, it’s only you and Dean in the whole world. “I chose you because you are brave, so stop being a coward and be fucking happy, Dean.”

“I-“

“Tell me you’ll be happy.”

Dean stares at you. “I- I’ll be happy.”

He frowns at the words, as if they taste odd on his tongue. 

You’ll have to work on that.

You nod. “Tell me you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry.” He almost lurches forward, like he’s physically stopping himself from reaching out to hold you. “I’m so goddamn sorry, and I’m never gonna-“

“Tell me you love me. But,” You stand a little taller, and this could break you. “Only if you really fucking mean it-“

“I love you.” The words are fast. Firm. 

They jumpstart your every nerve at once, and you’re going to be okay. 

“I’m in love with you,” Dean says your name, his hands fisted at his side. “I love you, and I’m sorry, and I’ll be happy, and just- Don’t leave. Don’t leave, please. I love you, goddamnit, so don’t-“

“You can say it all you want.” You swallow, keeping your gaze locked on his. “I want to see you do something.”

There’s a long moment where he just stares at you, but there’s no sickening worry in your body. You didn’t push him too far, you said everything you had to, and Dean might be drawing ragged breathes you can feel tighten around your own lungs—might just be standing there and watching you—but if he does nothing at all you’ll know. You’ll finally know in a way that you can trust, and you’ll be able to walk away and relearn how to move and think in a world where Dean really doesn’t want you-

He moves so fast. One second Dean’s staring at you with a drawn brow and flared nostrils, and the next he’s on you. Bent over your body, his hands molded and perfectly fit on your waist and jaw, his lips slammed over yours and pulling every part of your soul out through your mouth.

And every bit of doubt evaporates without any suffering or pain.

Because Dean cares.

And you can feel it.

It’s not just in how he kisses you, like he’s returned from war and you’ve been a crumpled picture in his pocket, his kiss bruising and searching all at once, as every bit of his adoration and desire and hope—there’s something that’s still delicate in this kiss, because his hands stay on your body like you might be set adrift once more and he’s fighting against all the tides and rocks to keep you at his side—sinks from Dean’s lip into yours.

It’s in the lingering sensations you can still feel between your bodies. It’s in how when your arms wrap around Dean’s neck and you return the kiss with every bit of wrathful and determined love you’ve ever held for the man before you, you can feel the rush of relief in his body.

He pulls you closer, and groans against your skin when you squirm in his hold. Dean presses kisses over your collarbone and sucks a line up your neck that makes you fold into him like putty, and when you scratch at his arms a prickle runs over your own skin.

You think Dean’s feeling it too. He grabs at your hair and tugs it back to bite and kiss at your throat, and his own body jerks slightly. He falls over you on the mattress, and makes a low grunt that matches the weight of him that’s

been dropped on your chest. You reach a hand between your bodies as he nips at your lower lip—palming and squeezing at his bulge, feeling yourself melt into the sheets at his low groan—and when he swats you away he replaces the loss with his knee, his thighs tensing in that brief moment where you’re aching without relief.

Dean rises over you, and furrowed expression on his face.

“Got makin’ up to do.” He mutters, his eyes so dark on yours it feeds something in your gut that had been flickering and humming into an inferno. And you could get lost in that darkness. They’d be warm. “I just- I’m takin’ care of it, sweetheart. You need to trust me-“

You push up to kiss him, cupping your hand around his head and keeping it short and gentle.

“I trust you.” You whisper against his lips, running your thumb over his cheekbone. “I’m staying. Just- I-“

You don’t have the words. For how if this is it, if he’s going to love you and hold you, he can’t drop you. You can’t do this just to be left stranded once more.

But you don’t need the words. 

Because there’s still a little bit of you that is Dean, and he understands. 

Dean lays you back on the bed, pulls his shirt over his head, and now you have nothing but time and care. His hands trace and map over your body as he strips you out of your wet clothing, and lingering cold from the rain vanishes as Dean starts to touch you.

Really, properly touch you.

Rough, calloused hands squeezing and pulling at your breasts and hot, full lips wrapping around your nipple, sucking and pulling it between his teeth with low groans that vibrate through your body. By the time he’s trailing down your stomach—sucking dark marks all over your skin that make your back arch off the bed and your knees spread in a silent plea for him to move further down—you’re tugging at his hair and gasping his name in need.

Then Dean dives right past where you’re dripping and rolling the sheets for him, kissing down your thighs and up to your ankle, switching legs and keeping you pressed to the mattress with one firm hand.

You can see his own need, pushing against his jeans. You can feel it, throbbing and pulsing in your core.

“Dean,“ You moan as he nips at your knee, slowing working his way back up to your center. “Shit, Dean, please-“

His mouth moves to your inner thigh, sucking another, almost possessive spot right near your core before hiking your legs over his shoulders, his breath warm over you pussy and his mouth so close-

“Dean-“

“That’s my name, baby.” He hums. “Get ready to scream it.” 

The asshole winks at you, and you barely have time to glare at him before he dives into your cunt, and everything in your body lights on fire.

It’s infuriating how everything Dean does, he’s good at. How even eating pussy feels like something artful when it’s Dean doing it, and he’s working you like clay with only his mouth. Turning you into a writhing, moaning mess on the bed as he licks and sucks and bites and kisses, and his scruff is just long enough to burn on your thighs in the best way, and his hands are drawing pattern on your thighs in perfect rhythm with his movement between your clit and clenching pussy, humming and growling against you in harmony and pushing his tongue into you right as your hips buck off the bed-

When you start to grind and moan a weak warning of your release—barreling towards you like a tidal wave—Dean keeps you on the edge with teeth on your clit and teasing movement of his tongue for just too long. Just until you’re whining and squirming and trying push your cunt right into his face, and then he pulls your clit into his mouth and flicks his tongue over you in almost a frenzy, and you unravel.

You might be screaming his name. Your heart feels like it’s filled with helium and your body feels a little bigger as Dean presses one calming kiss over your clit and draws away—keeping at least one part of his body pressed to yours as he sheds the remainder of his clothes—and you think he might be proud.

You’ll let him have this. Just for tonight, when all he’s done is eaten you out and you feeling like you’re glowing, you’ll let Dean be pleased with himself.

He settles back over your body, his gaze locked to yours as he bumps against your inner thigh, and every breath feels important.

“I-“ Dean clears his throat, scanning over your face. “I, uh- You didn’t happen to bring protection-“

“I’m clean.” You whisper, your fingers curling on his chest. “And on the pill.”

He swallows, nodding slowly. “And you’re okay-“

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure-“

“Dean.” Your voice gets a little more solid, your eyes firm on his. “If you don’t want to, we won’t, but I’m more than-“

You yelp as Dean slams his mouth down to yours, kissing you into the mattress and swallowing your high sound as he pushes his cock right into you without resistance.

He pulls back to watch you as he bottoms out, reaching down to trace a small circle on your clit, and his hips jerk with a grunt.

The movement make him press right against your g-spot, Dean groans and rolls his hips, you whine and start to grind against him as your own pleasure crest and vaults, and you both freeze as you realize what’s happening. 

Dean pressed his thumb flat on your clit, the movement slow and careful, and lets out a hiss through his teeth. Still staring at him, you purposefully clench around him, and stars cloud your vision as need pools deeper in your gut. 

Something snaps. 

And you’ve never been higher. 

Every movement is doubled, and everything seems to only carry you higher. Dean begins to slam into you at a brutal pace that grows sloppier and sloppier the more you grind and writhing beneath him, squeezing his cock whenever he hits that spongey, needy part deep inside of you, the feeling of practical euphoria doubled and practically intoxicating. 

At some point Dean rolls onto his back, never removing himself inside of you and never breaking his pace. Your nails scratch at his chest as you ride his dick, rubbing your clit over his chest and reaching a hand behind you to play with his balls as he guides you up and down with a tight grip on your hips-

Dean almost roars when you squeeze his balls with light fingers, and you would’ve fallen forward if he didn’t hold you up. One of Dean’s thumbs move to furiously rub at your clit, and you’re not sure who cums first.

All you know is that it’s all an almost infinite high as you fuck yourself on his cock through your orgasm, and Dean pushes up to suck at your tits as his release drips down your thighs. 

You could’ve stayed here forever. Basking in the little, electric aftershocks of your shared orgasm, squeezing around Dean when he twitches inside of each other, watching each other with open looks of wonder because you might have just found a backdoor to heaven. 

But eventually, Dean has to roll you onto your back press a kiss to your brow before shuffling to the bathroom. He returns with a wet washcloth that gets tossed to a corner of the room once he’s cleaned you up, and wastes no time settling his body back over yours with a low groan.

“Sammy’s gonna have a field day.” He mutters against your skin, and you giggle, letting your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Been telling me for years to just talk to you.”

You hum. “You should’ve listened. Sam can be wise beyond his years sometimes.”

He snorts. “You’re supposed to be on my side-“

“I am.” You tilt your head to kiss his cheek, smiling against his scruff. “Just not for this.”

“Whatever.” Dean grumbles, and he’s clinging to you like you’re a teddy bear. “Long as he shuts his big mouth about it-“

“We could make out in the war room. When we get home. Just to fuck with him.”

There’s a long pause, and when Dean speaks again, he sounds a little breathless. You feel a little lightheaded.

“You’re my dream girl.”

“I know.” You smile at the ceiling. “Dean, can you still feel-“

“Yeah.” He pinches at your waist, as if testing that the aftereffects are still there. “Kinda hot, though.”

“You wanna keep making it up to me?” You hold his gaze as he pushes up on his elbows, raising his brows at you. “Sam doesn’t know where we are, you still have about four years of missed sex to catch up on, and it is storming outside-“

Dean grunts your name, and you give him your best innocent pout.

“You forgive me?”

“Yeah.” You whisper. “But I’d like a few more apologies, please.”

He raises his brows. “Am I ever gonna get to stop apologizing-“

“No.” You offer him a small smile. “But mostly just because your apologies are amazing.”

Dean rolls his eyes, you open your mouth to tell him that you have forgiven him—so if he really doesn’t want to keep having sex, he by no means has to—but you don’t have to.

He knows. 

And based on the fervor with which he kisses you back into the mattress, he wants nothing more than to try and fuck you until you’re turned inside out, and he’s gotten that lingering bit of the curse inside of him to stick.

End Note: Rare Dean Winchester dealing with emotions, spotted in the wild! Thank you so much for reading!! Shoutout to the anon who requested a body swap series, huge W for that idea <3, this one's for you.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

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@kr804573

[jjoongiesbetter]

✎ᝰ. mon's ateez fic recommendations (part 1)!

mdni!

│hi there! i haven't read much lately so the first part came across as a bit shorter than i expected but the next ones will surely be longer!

— as a writer myself, i just wanted to take a moment to thank all the authors for sharing such incredible writing, your hard work is truly appreciated! thank you for sharing your writing with us! ♡

──────── ♡⸝⸝

⤷ kim hongjoong x reader

♡┆ugh, as if by @ennysbookstore; the whole mini-series is just amazing and i enjoyed each part a lot! once i started i couldn't stop reading! loved how well hongjoong was written! the build-up of the first part was top-notch! and the character development... i should thank the author on my knees for writing this masterpiece. one of the best authors out there! definitely will read again!

♡┆swapped by @daisykihannie; the prompt is just so fun and interesting, one of the most creative ones i stumbled across! i haven't read something like this before. enjoyed it very very much!

♡┆punching bag by @mulloey; i must admit it was so just so undeniably hot, angry hongjoong and also so well-written! you will find me re-reading it an unholy amount of times.

♡┆clumsy hearts, steady love by @edenesth; WHAT IF I TELL YOU I CRIED? i already commented on this one on my main but im going to repeat myself! incredibly written, hongjoong suits the concept so well, my heart hurt a bit while reading but it's hongjoong, of course, i forgive him. somehow still very cute.

⤷ jeong yunho x reader

♡┆active recovery by @k-hotchoisan; y'all so i was always so shy about commenting on smut but tbh don't we all read it? author killed it yet again! got me hot, bothered and i am starting to consider a gym subscription!

♡┆the drill by @byuntrash101; look i know this one was posted last year, and i am so mad for not reading it sooner😭 i loved the storyline, wooyoung as a side character was just so funny, yunho without rizz altered my brain chemistry. i can't lie i was thinking about this fic for days after i read it! it's the perfect blend of fun and smut.

♡┆private lessons by @bombuni; i must admit i love professor yunho and it is always a pleasure finding and reading such fics, especially when it's as good as this one! (would love to see a part two one day)

♡┆muffled by @desirehorizon; the plot!!! the writing!!! the smut!!! and it was funny too!!! what more can i want? perfect!! imma say it once again but i enjoyed every word of this fic!!! can't wait to read more from the author!

⤷ song mingi x reader

♡┆still your biggest fan by @byuntrash101; good god it was just so incredibly hot, we need to appreciate the idea because it surely is creative! who doesn't just love teasing mingi? let's agree that we all do.

♡┆sour candy by @0097linersb; loved the idea🙂‍↕️ needy mingi is my favorite mingi, it was very very hot. you better find the time and read it!

⤷ choi jongho x reader

♡┆minor nuisance by @everyonewooeverywhere; i tell you they are in love love! trust me, you definitely need to read this one! jongho was just so sweet, a great fluff/smut combo and now i need jongho in my life even more :(

♡┆freestyle lap by @bro-atz; we all should know by now that bro is just simply one of the best when it comes to smut and they never, never disappoint. i definitely needed to read this one after i saw that pool jongho pics. if you haven't read it yet, what are you even doing?

♡┆falling and sleeping by @seonghwaddict; it was posted earlier this year but i just had to include it :( it was just utterly cute, jongho is adorable. well-written, and melted my poor heart.

multiple members:

⤷ choi jongho x kang yeosang x reader

♡┆the post show high by @bombuni; i must shamelessly admit while reading it i felt like the author somehow got into my brain and just picked one of my fantasies, hope it's not tmi. so saying i loved it it's an understatement! one of my favorite authors for real!

pairings:

⤷ kim hongjoong x jeong yunho (hohong)

ao3 ♡┆darling, you will bury me (before i bury you) by SunshineAndRayne; cute cute cute! i loved every letter of it, yunho is so whipped and i am living for it!

ao3 ♡┆waiting for you by marspacz; i absolutely loved this one so much! my heart needed this, had me smiling the entire time i was reading! and then the shotgun scene—damn, that was hot!

[supernotnatural2005]

'Ride em' Cowgirl'

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY, swearing, fluff.

AN: Here it is, the requested part 2 of my 'Giddy up Cowboy' Drabble. I'm blown away by all of the love and support on my work lately and had to give you something tasteful in return for all your lovely appreciation. I hope you enjoy ☺️

Tagging: @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog and @rizlowwritessortof

Main Masterlist

The ride back to the motel feels like an eternity. The engine of the Impala hums beneath you, a comforting sound you’ve grown used to over the past few months of hunting with the Winchesters. But tonight, that familiar hum does little to calm the storm that’s building in the air between you and Dean.

Sam sits in the passenger seat, blissfully unaware of the electricity crackling in the space between you and his older brother. His head is turned slightly, eyes focused on his phone as he scrolls through something, probably researching the next hunt. He’s completely oblivious, lost in his world, but you and Dean? You're both caught up in something far more dangerous.

You shift in your seat, the leather of the Impala's interior squeaking slightly beneath you, but it’s nothing compared to the way your body is reacting to the proximity of Dean, to the memory of the words you said back at the bar. "I think I can ride him better." The double meaning of the comment, the tease that you’d laid on him, was still hanging heavily in the air.

You glance at him, his profile visible from the corner of your eye. His jaw is tight, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little too hard, and you can’t help but notice the way his bicep flexes with the tension. The urge to reach over and touch him, to bridge that last bit of space between you, is almost overwhelming.

Sam’s voice pulls you from your thoughts as he glances over his shoulder, a slight grin on his face. “You two are awfully quiet. You sure everything’s alright?”

Dean clears his throat, his voice low, a little too steady. “Yeah, we’re fine, Sammy. Just tired.”

Sam nods, not catching the edge in his brother’s voice, and goes back to whatever he’s reading on his phone. You, however, catch the way Dean’s eyes flicker to you—a brief glance, but enough to make your pulse quicken. You feel that familiar heat rise between you both, the kind that only the two of you understand.

Every mile feels like it stretches on forever. You catch Dean’s gaze again, and this time, his eyes linger a little longer, something raw and unspoken in them. You know he’s struggling to keep his composure, just as you are.

Finally, the motel comes into view. The neon lights of the sign flicker, the soft hum of the parking lot filling the quiet car. Sam lets out a loud yawn and stretches, oblivious to the way the tension between you and Dean has reached its breaking point.

“Man, I’m pretty beat.” Sam says, giving you both a tired smile as he climbs out of the car. You and Dean follow suit, both of you stepping out with a quiet but unmistakable urgency.

Dean’s hand brushes against yours as he walks you to your room—just a few doors before his and Sam’s, and it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. You both stand there for a moment, looking at your motel room door in front of you, the unspoken weight of everything you've both been avoiding for so long finally sinking in. 

Sam walks on ahead, muttering something about needing to “hit the hay,” and you both watch as he disappears into the room before Dean turns to you, his voice low and controlled. 

"You weren’t kidding earlier, huh?”

"No," you say, your voice just above a whisper, because you can’t take it anymore, and it’s enough to send the heat between you two spiralling. "I wasn’t.”

Dean doesn’t need any more encouragement. He moves first, closing the distance between you two with a single, decisive step. His lips crash against yours, hard and desperate—like he’s been holding back everything he’s been feeling for far too long. 

His mouth is warm and insistent, and you open up to him instinctively, your hands finding their way to the open fabric of his flannel, pulling him even closer. 

You moan into the kiss, clinging to him as if he were your last source of oxygen. Consuming what he was willing to give as long as he was willing to give it. Dean’s hands slide down to your hips, gripping hard enough to leave small fingerprint indents when your tongue slides past his lips. His responding groan is low, bordering on a growl, and he walks you back against your door, his hands unable to stay in one place for too long. 

His touch, his scent, and his delectable mouth were quickly descending you into a state of ecstasy. You were already hooked and desperate for more. 

“Inside.” You mumble against his lips, and he offers you a curt nod before he breaks the kiss, allowing you a moment to breathe as you turn to unlock your door. He’s already pressing himself against you from behind, his hands wandering from your hips to boldly cupping your breasts over your thin t-shirt, beneath your jacket.

It takes you until your third try before you finally stumble inside. Dean quick to kick the door shut with his foot as he ravishes your neck with wet kisses and thumbs at your pebbled nipples poking through your lace bra, risen from both his ministrations and the cool air.

You push back against him and gasp at the feel of his obvious arousal through his jeans. His reaction to you sent a thrill of excitement through you as well as a feeling of pride swelling in your chest. 

"Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. Wanted you.” Dean pants into your neck as you roll your hips against him. He presses into you with each roll, making his eyes roll back and his hands move to find purchase on your hips again. 

“I think I have some notion.” You quip with one last push back against him before turning in his arms. You offer him a sly smile and look up at him through your lashes as you trail and hand down his firm chest and over his toned stomach before cupping him through his jeans. His hips instinctively thrust into your palm, and you grant him some relief by adding pressure and rubbing your hand along his length. 

His gaze is stormy as he looks down at you, watching you watch your own hand grope him in wonder. It was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen. Suddenly, he pulls your hand from him, the feeling both incredible yet frustratingly not enough, and you look up at him in question, but he’s quick to reclaim your lips again. 

The urgency from before is back with a vengeance as you claw at each other’s clothes, peeling away layers upon layers between heated kisses, until finally, you’re left in nothing but your panties, and Dean in his boxers. 

His gaze roams over you unapologetically, taking in every curve and scar; your heaving breasts on display with a hunger you’d never seen in another man's eyes before. But there was more behind his desire. There was a look of longing, of wanting this for so long and finally having it, simmering within those pools of green. And you understood. Because you felt the exact same. 

As if in sync, you reached for one another again. Dean’s hands framed your face as he dipped down to kiss you again. This time softer, more tender, making you all but melt into his arms. He walked you backwards, never parting his lips from yours, until the backs of your thighs met the edge of the mattress. 

You pulled away from him then and climbed up onto the bed, with him quickly following, crawling up and over you like a predator stalking his prey. Your head fell back onto the pillows as his firm body covered yours, his mouth quickly attaching itself to your neck, kissing, sucking, and nibbling at the tender flesh until you were bucking your hips up against him. 

He smirks into your neck, loving the fact you were so reactive to him, even by the simplest of touches. He decides to give you some relief and trails his mouth down your body, stopping at your chest. He waited for you to look at him, his warm breath fanning over your perked nipple, and only when you finally meet his gaze does he wrap his lips around your pebbled nub. 

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, watching his eyes fall shut as he sucked and nibbled at your nipple. The sensation was almost overwhelming, and your hips ground for any kind of friction to relieve the building ache between your legs. Your hand slid into his hair, pulling harshly at the soft spikes atop his head, making him groan, and the vibration sent tiny shocks of pleasure throughout your nerve endings. 

He moves onto your other breast, the wetness of your abandoned nipple cooling against the air conditioning unit, softly buzzing in the background, the feeling only adding to the incredible pleasure his mouth was giving your other breast. 

“Fuck, Dean.” You gasp, just as his left hand trailed down your side and sneakily slipped into your panties. Two of his thick digits were quick to find your clit and you shuddered from the contact. He begins to circle your bundle of nerves slowly, much like the motion of his tongue against your nipple. 

You fist his hair again, moaning loudly as he dips an experimental finger into your soaked hole, gathering your wetness and resuming his attention back on your clit. 

“You’re so wet, baby.” He grunts against your chest, frowning in concentration as he picks up his pace. “That all for me?” All you could do was nod and then cry out as his fingers rubbed you faster, sending jolts of pleasure down to the tips of your toes, which soon curled as your body began to tense. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You repeated it like a mantra, the coil in your belly wound tight and ready to spring. 

“That’s it, baby. Cum all over my fingers.” He husks in your ear, and you look down your body, watching the muscles in his forearm dance with effort from the maddening pace of the hand buried deep in your underwear. The sight was your undoing, and your whole body stiffened. Mouth dropping open in a silent scream, the sound trapped in your throat as your body convulsed and shuddered against him. 

Dean’s hand began to slow with your descent into bliss, coming to a complete stop once you deflated back onto the mattress, completely boneless. 

“Holy shit.” You huffed with an incredulous chuckle because, holy shit. You’re not even sure you’d ever come so hard with your own hand. And if just his fingers could bring you so much pleasure, it left you wondering what else you were in store for. Although you didn’t have to wonder for much longer when Dean shifted beside you and you felt the straining press of his cock against your thigh. 

You turned to him and cupped his cheek with your right hand, pulling him into a slow and sensuous, grateful kiss. He hummed happily against your lips as you rolled him onto his back. His arms coming up to wrap around you, to keep you close as you took his breath away. 

With him distracted, you grasped his tented length, massaging him as best you could through the fabric of his boxers. He broke the kiss and dropped his head back against the pillows, eyes shut tight as you relieved some of the pressure. 

You smiled devilishly at him and rose to your knees beside him. He watched you in wonder as you peeled the last item of clothing from him, helping you by lifting his hips. Your eyes widened in both shock and amazement at the sight of him. Your mouth watered and pussy throbbed, desperate for a taste, for the feel of him inside you. 

You gathered him in your hand, relishing in the warm weight of his impressive cock. Dean released a deep sigh at the feel of your delicate hand slowly, teasingly pumping him. He was as hard as granite, throbbing in your hand, and you marvelled at the way your simple movements had him panting, wanting and desperate beneath you. 

Laying comfortably between his parted thighs, You ran your tongue along the length of him. The deep, responsive moan from him giving you the encouragement to do it again and again until he was slick with your saliva and fisting the sheets beneath him tight. 

“Holy.. shit.” Dean gasped as you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his silky head before sinking your mouth onto him. The action brought with it a salty tang and a variety of praises and profanities. Between your legs, a new wave of wetness coated your already ruined underwear as you worked him over in your mouth and with your hand. 

Looking up at him, he was a sight to behold. His skin glistening, chest heaving, sinful lips parted, and eyes squeezed shut. He was beautiful in every scenario it seemed. 

“Oh God.” Dean’s eyes snapped open then, his body tensing, and he quickly sat up, pulling you from him. You looked at him alarmed, wiping at the spit collected at the corners of your mouth. 

“What? What’’s wrong?” You lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, waiting for him to take a few deep breaths before he released a breathless chuckle.

“You were about to make me cum.” He told you honestly, and you blushed a little, but wondered why he’d stopped you? 

“And?” You giggled softly, though squeaked, when he suddenly manhandled you into his lap. You had to bite back a groan at the feel of his hard length bumping against you through your panites. 

“And? I was promised a ride.” His voice is low and sultry, but his face is filled with his usual boyish, giddy excitement. You giggled and shook your head, realising you’d somehow fallen for a complete dork. 

You cup his scruffy cheeks in your palms and plant a warm kiss against his lips, the smiles on your faces quickly fading as your tongue swept against his, reigniting the ache between your legs and the need for more. 

You reluctantly pull away and slide off of him, removing and kicking away your underwear before climbing back onto him. He welcomes you eagerly, claiming your mouth once again with a kiss filled with passion and ignition. 

You slowly guide him onto his back and pull away breathless. His hands slide from your back to your hips as you sit up, grinning down at him. His green eyes look up at you, dark and entranced, roaming over every inch of you in amazement. 

You bite down on your lip as you settle against him, the wet seam of your pussy covering his length, making you both groan at the contact. You roll your hips experimentally, your head falling back as you steadied yourself against his firm stomach, picking up your pace until you were slick and ready. 

“Fuck sweetheart. You’re a dream.” Dean says breathlessly and with an honest gaze. You smirk down at him, slowing your roll, and he watches you. 

“I think it’s time I make do on that promise.” You tell him. “Think I can last the full 90 minutes?” You tease, and Dean chuckles, rubbing lovingly at your thighs, hips, and up your sides. 

“I have no doubts, baby.” 

In one swift movement, you rise up on your knees and grasp his length, angling him just right before you sink down onto him. Both of your mouths drop open in respective pleasure. You’re slick enough to take him most of the way, only rocking gently a few times until he’s fully sheathed. 

“Fuuck.” He moans, and it’s long and drawn out because Dean can’t quite fathom the feeling of you wrapped tightly around him. He’s been to heaven, hell, and everything in between, but this was something else entirely. The best pie he’d ever tasted, the feeling he got behind the wheel of baby—all things paling in comparison to this moment.

Once the initial stretch of him blurred from pain into pleasure, did you then rise up and slowly slide back down, gasping in almost disbelief at the incredible feel of him inside you. You repeated the movement again and again until you built up a steady rhythm, rocking, rolling, and grinding your hips to find the most intense spots of pleasure. 

All the while Dean let you ride him, watching in awe as you did in fact “ride him better." However, to give you a challenge, he bucked his hips up into you, meeting you thrust for thrust. You held on tightly, eyes rolling back at the much harsher thrusts hitting you just right, but you weren’t about to let him win. 

With one hand firmly planted on his chest, you leaned back, reaching your arm around to fondle his balls. Dean jolted in surprise but moaned deep and loud as you gently caressed them in your palm. You smiled in triumph as he relinquished his thrusts, and you sped up your movements, feeling his balls draw tight. 

“Oh, fuck, oh shit.” His words were breathless and strained as his body tensed, brow furrowing, hands gripping tight onto your hips as he came. Hard. You felt his warm seed coat your walls along with a long, deep groan as you circled your hips, milking every last drop. 

You grinned down at him as he collapsed back onto the bed, panting hard and weightless. You could feel him still twitching inside you, and you involuntary clenched at the sensation, making his head pop back up to look at you. 

His eyes were wild, his chest flushed red, and wordlessly he slid a hand over to your lower stomach, his thumb pressing against your sensitive clit, making you gasp. Dean’s eyes closed at the feeling of you clenching around him but began circling your clit with the digit, watching on in admiration as you slowly rocked your hips into his hand, chasing your own sweet release. 

Dean was a generous lover, but you’d given him a run for his money in that department tonight. It was only common curtesy he had you come again. Even if your pussy was all but strangling his sensitive cock, it felt incredible—a sensation he’d never felt before. He could feel himself hardening again at just the sight and feel of you, surprising you as much as himself. 

“Oh God.” You cried out, your walls fluttering around him as you ground into his hand, his thumb flicking against your clit, harder and faster until you were shaking above him. Then he thrust his hips up, once, twice, three times, and you were falling apart. Your body tensed and twitched above him, your mouth falling open in a silent cry as the white hot pleasure of your orgasm rippled through you.  

“Shit.” Your eyes popped open when you felt it. Warmth spread inside you for a second time as Dean cried out in painful pleasure. Holy shit was all that you could comprehend as he tensed beneath you. 

Shocked silence filled the room as you both stared at one another, catching your breaths, until a chuckle of disbelief slipped from his lips, triggering your own laughter.  

You fell onto his chest, letting his soft cock slip from you with a slight hiss from him. You soothed a hand a long his chest, planting a sweet kiss there before leaning up and coming face to face with him. 

"So, was I…Better?” You wondered curiously, whilst absently playing with his mused, sweat slicked hair. Dean grinned in response and cupped your jaw tenderly. 

"Oh, you so were." He replied before pulling your lips to his. 

AN: Okay so this one was just pure smut! 😂 but let me know what you think? Was this a good tie up for these two 👀

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Handle With Care 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your work blurs the lines between professional and personal.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

"Sam's not gonna make it," Bucky huffs as you stand at the sink. He puts his phone face down. "He's an important guy now." He turns and leans on the counter as you rinse the plate in your hands. "I told you, I can clean up after myself."

"And I told you, it's not too much," you put it in the rack. "My mother tried to raise a lady, despite how I turned out."

He tilts his head as he eyes you, "there's a dishwasher."

"Aren't you the cranky old man who tells the youngins they don't know what hard work is?" You scoff.

His lips thin, "you heard that?"

You shrug, "you're a good trainer, Barnes."

"It's a short leash," he growls.

"Is that what you think?"

He sighs and crosses his arms. "You're not like me. I know what people see when they look at me."

"Is that barbecue sauce on your chin?" You smile. He frowns and quickly rubs his chin with his knuckle. You chuckle. "Messing with you."

He huffs.

"What do you know about me, Barnes? You read my file."

"I don't know," he scratches his neck. "You're a demolitions expert."

"Oh, and do you know how I got to know explosions so well?"

"File said you worked with the PD--"

You scoff. "You really didn't dig into the archives? The real ones?"

He shakes his head.

"I didn't work with the PD. I got arrested for setting up IEDs around a farmhouse. Several."

"Farmhouses?" His eyes flash. "Why--"

"Long story short, you meet a lot of backwards people out in the country," you put the second plate in the tray and scrub a knife. "Couple years in, they showed up. Offered me a deal. I saved an embassy. Got my freedom. With conditions."

"Hm."

"Should they really trust me? You think I won't go back and try again? After they've taught me how to do it ten times better?" You laugh. His cheeks twitch. You shake your head. "Barnes, really."

"Well..." he drops his arms. "I don't know, do I?"

You laugh. He lets himself smile.

"Sorry about Sam. I'll let him know he's a real shit for bailing," you pull the stopper in the sink. He hands you a towel. You dry off and give it back. "If you can tolerate me a little longer, we could watch something. From this century."

"You didn't like Showtime?"

"Oh, it was fun, but I need more than moony eyes and tapping toes," you retort. "And I don't mind the snuggles." His brows furrow and you turn to look around, "where is that kitty?"

He's silent as you make clicky noises in an effort to entice the cat from her hiding spot.

"Didn't take you for an animal person."

"Might say the same of you," you toss back. "I had a pet snake. Wasn't much of a cuddler."

"Huh," he utters.

"Huh, what?" You turn and face him from the doorway.

"Nothing. Just the definition of a lady's changed a lot since my day."

"I'm sure a lot's changed. Can't even imagine," you say. "I did three years and came out, totally lost. You did... a lot longer."

"Yeah, well, it was easier... before."

You know who he's referring too. You can't blame him for being bitter. It must sting more now that Sam chose not to come hang. You almost want to call him up and bitch but you doubt he'd answer.

"Alright, my choice," you declare as you enter the front room. "You need a dose of pure schlock."

"You don't have to feel sorry for me," he grumbles.

"If I did, you'd know it," you scoop up your phone and ignore him. "I'm thinking the trashiest action crap we can find."

"You really don't have to--"

"Barnes, I'm here, and to be honest, I don't really feel like dealing with rush hour," you sneer. "So be a good host and get me a beer."

He stares back at you and blinks.

"Oh, wait, wait, I'll ask like a lady." You bat your lashes and force a smile. You add a few octaves. "Oh, please won't you get me a drink?"

He makes a face, "don't ever do that again."

You snort. You look around for his television remote. You click on the screen and flop onto the couch.

His suggested is a bit predictable; war docs, Lord of the Rings, The Sopranos? Alright. No wonder he's so goddamn serious.

He comes back with two bottles. He offers you one. He turns and stand next to the couch as he presses the glass neck to his lip but doesn't drink.

You continue your search for something less dire. Arnie is always a good time, right?

"Barnes," you select a classic; Predator. "You wanna sit? The whole lurking in my peripheral thing makes me itchy."

He flinches, "uh, sure."

He steps around the couch and sits right against the armrest. You look down at yourself. There's the stain on the borrowed shirt but otherwise you're presentable. You lift your arm and sniff.

"I smell or something?" You ask and put the remote down.

"Huh?" He glance at you.

"You think I'm contagious, or something?" You tease.

His forehead wrinkles and he shows his teeth.

"You don't have to tuck yourself into the corner like a misbehaved child," you say.

"It's not... no, just making sure you have space."

"Relax, I don't got any explosives on me," you sit back and face the screen.

A white blur jumps up beside you and you wince. Bucky does too. Alpine walks in a circle, seeking pets from her owner before spinning back. She comes to nestle against your leg, putting her head on your thigh. You stroke her gently.

"I can see why you don't like to go out, Barnes," you snort.

"She's alright." He eases just a bit. "She'll be making all sorts of racket at midnight."

"Good kitty," you praise and reach for your beer. "You give him hell, pretty kitty."

He sighs and turns his bottle in his hands. Too bad that stuff can loosen him up.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

I've been reading a lot of Korean isekai webcomics lately and given me an idea of being Malleus or Leona fiance who he didn't even love at all ( liked he thinks they are being too clingy or something like that but in reality they care about them and try help them out with daily tasks and try to bring something interesting to lighten the mood or the very least lift up their mood to at least feel better )

and reader taken over the body of said fiance and just like " I don't wanna get killed, or die, I have magic to help me out so I'll just run away from here " and just left him to venture out in the world maybe settle in somewhere outside of the kingdom to somewhere else in a small village to settle, and when they realize that how much their former finance care for them and realize they are no longer in the castle and looking for them

And what do they feel when they see her ( fae or beastwoman ) with a human male who made her really happy when they found her

Manwha Mistreated Married Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

It's downright unfair to be the only one trying in this arranged marriage setting. Not to mention the lack of care when it comes to hiding their growing interest in this Yuu character. Why shouldn’t you be allowed happiness with your own human, far away from the unforgiving environment of their castle? What’s worse is that they will come running and it is not to congratulate you:

Leona Kingscholar

“What the-”

When he finally does get around to actually doing the paperwork of being a prince

He finds that he’s been sent a constant barrage of divorce material 

And then he’s reminded that he’s been married off to…someone he can’t even be bothered to remember

But he looks at the official Royal portraits of you 

And goes to search 

He wanted to see what he was working with

“Uh your majesty, they’ve been gone for over a year now.”

A year?! Already

So he reaches into the back of his mind to the memories of you 

Reporting how much of his work you did for him or how you gifted him some new pillows as a gift 

It makes him feel itchy 

So he begins an arduous search for you

Something that takes longer than he expects 

Eventually finding you working on a farm 

Clearly making goo-goo eyes at the pathetic buff farm hand

So he decides to pop your bubble, revealing that technically still married

“Oh, I know that. But they’re waitin’ on you to finalize the divorce, y’know?”

Drats

There’s nothing more he hates than watching you look longingly at each other despite being so close

But he can’t bring himself to sign his name

Preferring to instead fight for his ownership of your heart

And if he has to get dirty he doesn’t mind

It just means he’s one step closer to making you return

He wants you to come running back to him

To hang off his every word as he does now

To kiss his knuckles and tell him how good of a husband he’s been

Malleus Draconia

“I’ve misjudged you…I’d appreciate if you returned home now.”

It's a wake-up call to have you laugh in his face when he says this

Usually, any protests would be met with his immense strength and magical prowess

But too bad his grandmother set him up with someone of near equal standing even worse better you seem to have been training

It was a past time for you as you moved into a non-descript village

All to retreat from a spouse obsessed with the first human to express any interest in him

Now forget all the times you attempted to converse with him or let him ramble about gargoyles

Only to be ignored or spat at for imitating his ‘child of man’

Well if he liked them so much he shouldn’t have minded when you wordlessly took a hiatus from the kingdom

No one seems to miss you, your presence is filled by the buzz of a human being around

But when that human leaves for home or turns in to achieve that sleep they so desperately need

He misses you

Finds even he unexpectedly snaps when his best friend reaches to sit in your chair

What strange magic…for him to wish you were present

He finds you easily 

And is surprised when you wretch in disgust when he arrives

And if you’ve taken a guardian role to some poor orphan child they copy the behavior

Constantly reminding him of your supposed dislike 

He’s not fond of this version of you at all

So he lingers like a dog kicked outside

Watching from a close distance as you live your new life

Sparking something in him as he finds you absolutely alluring at every angle

Suddenly that human’s pleas for his return become the static of something irritating

He needed you to come back and if a distraction was what was stopping you then so be it

But you’re so empathetic they might prove themselves useful as the king’s bargaining chip

[samkerrworshipper]

After seeing the pics of alexia at the Barça basketball game could you do one where she is finally playing the wag role for reader? Just overall enjoying being readers number one fan

on the sidelines

alexia putellas x reader

just a lil fluffy blurb that i wrote in half an hour… defo no proof read or spell checked so sorry in advance xo

desperately working on getting some more reqs out for y’all but i’m so overhauled with coursework that it’s taking me way longer so sorry if your request gets ignored as of rn mid terms are killing me ☠️

“A triple double, Y/n, one incredible feat, how do you feel knowing that your team is through to the play offs?”

You were buzzing, still coming down from the endorphin high as you tried to focus on the reporter who had been the first to attack you as soon as you’d finished shaking hands with your opponents, not even giving you the opportunity to leave the court.

“Every game is a team game, I’m obviously wrapped, but half of that wouldn’t have happened without my teammates. I’m obviously elated that we’re through to finals, the job starts now for us, everything we’ve worked for this season falls down to the next few weeks so we work hard, it’s not over until the final siren.”

The reporter smiled at you and you gave your signature smile back to the camera, trying to get this over and done with as soon as possible.

“The modesty is appreciated, but how did you feel about coming second in the league MVP poll earlier in the week?”

You bit down on your lap, it was a rude question, but you had been prepared for it.

“Obviously I would have loved to come home with the trophy, but it wasn’t meant to be. I have so much respect for Stewie and she deserved the award just as much as anybody else who we were contending against. Honestly, I couldn’t give two shits about individual awards, what matters to me is this playoffs series and maybe I can bring that trophy home instead.”

You smiled once again at the reporter and camera, slowly becoming more uncomfortable with the conversation the longer it went on.

“Now, we all have some questions about the trip down under you took a few weeks ago, any particular reason you decided to go home?”

You began to haphazardly fiddle with the microphone in your hands, willing for this interview to conclude so you could just enjoy your win.

“I missed home, the few days that I spent their were really nice and the team can tell you that since then I have been in much better spirits, sometimes you just need a reset and it was just really good timing that we had the two week break.”

The reporter smirked at you and you could feel the underlying question under her smirk.

“So nothing to do with your visit aligning with the World Cup final and one particular Spanish player who’s here tonight, sporting your number?”

You felt your face flush a little bit at the unforgiving blatancy of the reporter, very quickly trying to remember everything they’d taught you about avoiding questions in media training.

“A good friend of mine, Sam, extended the invitation and gave me some tickets to the finals games so how could I refuse? I mean the sheer pride for the Tillies that I held watching them progress was insane, nothing better than seeing women's sport be elevated at home.”

You could tell the reporter was nagging for you to answer the part of her question that you were ignoring.

“So just a coincidence then that you happened to spend a few days in Barcelona on a layover before returning back to New York?”

You bit the inside of the cheek, this wasn’t what you’d been expecting after winning one of the biggest games in your career.

“Are you implying something, Jackie?”

Your eyebrows rose in mock sarcasm, trying to laugh off the situation and make the reporter understand the message that this wasn’t something you wanted to talk about.

“Simply wondering whether you had anything to do with the presence of Alexia Putellas, or as we all know her, La Reina at tonight's game, and if she happened to be the person you were looking up at tonight everytime you scored?”

You shivered at the mention of her name.

“Alexia and I are good friends, and I will leave it at that.”

You smiled at the camera, enough of a smile that it was genuine but not enough to lead anybody on, because that wasn’t what you wanted to do, you wanted to leave them hanging.

“Good friends that wear each other's jerseys to each other's matches?”

You smirked at the camera, the annoyance of this situation slowly getting to you more and more.

“Good friends that just don’t pack enough of their own clothes when they visit.”

Your voice was dismissive, enough to tell the reporter that you weren’t interested in broaching the topic any further if she wanted to continue to have a conversation with you.

“So, quite the comeback you’ve made in the past 48 months, double back surgery is certainly an impressive feat, how has it felt returning to the court this season and competing at the same level that you were before your injury, especially after how the injury resulted in you sitting out the bronze medal olympic match?”

You could feel the sweat across your body starting to go cold, a true sign that you’d been talking for far to long.

“I’m obviously feeling great, better than ever really. Sitting out at the Olympics was devastating, obviously but I promised that I’d be back and here I am, I’m still working on my recovery, but hopefully by the time the olympics roll around next year I’ll be back fully and bringing home some hardware.”

The reporter laughed heartily at your weak joke, an action that made you a little woozy.

“I’m sorry but that’s all the questions I’ll be answering, my coach is getting rather antsy on the sidelines and it would do me some good not to annoy her right now, so I’ll have to wish you all a goodbye, and see you later for the playoffs.”

You sent a kiss towards the camera before handing the microphone and headset back to the filming crew before following your coach over to the sideline and then into the tunnel towards your change rooms. Sandy patted you on the back as you made your way back to the rooms, just consciously quickening your steps a little bit so you could make the distance as quickly as possible.

You’d never liked limelight, or any of the media attention. You’d started out playing country basketball with your siblings, out on the court all throughout the middle of summer. Eventually, after joining a club and playing some juniors you got picked up by the Perth team and then had worked your way upwards, but never had you played for the attention or glory, growing up, womens basketball in Australia was severely underappreciated, so you’d never had to really face any media attention. But the WNBA was a whole different ballpark and you were still adjusting after 6 seasons to the amount of ways you were now exposed to the general public.

Your whole body relaxed when you spotted Alexia standing beside the locker room door, hand in her phone, flicking furiously through it. You ran directly towards her, almost bowling her over with your strong strides.

She wrapped her arms around you almost immediately, allowing your to bury your head in her neck as you breathed in the scent of her, and the scent of one of your spare jerseys sitting comfortable across her muscley arms and chest. It was a sight for sore eyes, one that you’d been waiting far to long to see.

“I fucking hate reporters.”

Alexia snorted at you, it wasn’t often that she got to see you after games, both of you having extremely busy schedules that hardly allowed for time to go and watch each other mess around with a ball on a pitch or court for an hour.

“I know bebita, but you did so well.”

She concluded her statement in the very best way possible, plastering a series of kisses all over your face that made you giddy on the inside and had you pushing her off of you. The tunnel was a fairly safe place from reporters, but you could never be too sure who was creeping around and a part of you didn’t need your relationship being revealed right at this moment.

Something about having your number across Alexia’s chest set a fire in your soul and you stepped back from her embrace to take it in, to take in the sight of her standing in front fo you, her perfect shoulders on show, sitting comfortable beside the jersey. A few of her back tattoos peaking out from her shoulders giving you a indescribable view of the ink. Her collection was constantly growing and you swore every time she returned to you there was a new one for her to show you and tell you the story of.

She had paired the jersey with a plain pair of white jeans and her washed out pink hair was sitting comfortably on her shoulders, the strands being pushed out of her face by the Prada sunglasses sitting comfortably on her head, sunglasses you were certain had absolutely zero purpose besides being an accessory. You did have to admit that the pink had been your favourite hair in a long while, in fact you’d been the one who Alexia had convinced to help with the dye when she had one of her midnight crisis’ that had you marching down to the chemist to buy neon pink hair dye to make your girlfriend happy.

“I like it when you’re the wag.”

Alexia rolled her eyes, spinning around to give you a look at your brandished last name, sitting perfectly between the valley of skin that travelled between her shoulder blades, everything about it was so perfect to you, warming your soul from the inside.

“I do have to admit, it was quite fun sitting in the crowd for once and pretending I knew what was happening.”

You chuckled, you’d been trying your very hardest to teach Alexia the rules of your sport from the start of your relationship, and to her credit she had a grasp on the more basic rules, but she was absolutely shocking at much more than that. She watched every single one of your games, and yet she had absolutely zero grasp on how the sport of basketball actually worked.

“Look at that, La Reina admitting that she enjoyed being a wag.”

Alexia rolled her eyes at you, her hand coming to rest on your sweaty arm, providing some pressure to your forearm.

“Don’t you even think about telling any of the Barca girls, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

You smiled down at Alexia’s hand, loving the way that her body slotted in so perfectly with you, she knew your body like the back of her own hand and knew exactly what parts of you she should touch in different situations.

“Don’t you worry your little head, this will be our little secret, at least until the girls find my post game interview.”

Alexia nodded concedingly, it was inevitable that your relationship was eventually going to come out to the public, neither of you were particularly stressed about it, it would happen when it happened. You’d gone three years without anybody catching on, only now heading into the fourth year were people really starting to recognise the relationship.

“Go shower, you stink.”

You let Alexia push you towards the locker room door, her face nose scrunching up in faux disgust at you.

“Yes ma’am, La Reina, ma’am.”

The older woman once again rolled her eyes at you, but couldn’t avoid your own hand reached out to hers, silently tugging her into the locker rooms with you. It wasn’t irregular for teammates partners to end up in the rooms after games, and you knew that Alexia would just end up waiting alone in the hallway for you whilst you went about your post game routine.

You lead her towards your cubby, seating her down on the bench before reaching down behind her and pulling out the few items of clothing and toiletries you needed for the shower. One quick look down at Ale revealed to you just how in awe she was of what was occurring around her. There was nothing special happening, most teammates doing similar things to you and beginning their post game rituals.

“Mi amor, I’m going to the shower now, just stay here, bien, and don’t hesitate to ask anybody for something if you need it, si?”

Alexia nodded at you aimlessly, her eyes darting around the room as she took in her surroundings, You took the opportunity to dip out of the room and into the showers, hastening your normal routine so you could return to her as quickly as possible.

You showered in record time, washing your hair and body so quickly you were certain you almost got whiplash from the jolting of your arms and muscles in every direction and you frantically moved around in the shower.

When you returned to Alexia she was in the same spot as you’d left her, her eyes still searching the room and taking in everything happened around her. It was cute to see her so out of place, it was something you’d never seen on her before and something about seeing her like a deer in the headlights made you fall so much further in love with her.

“Cãrino? Let’s go, yeah?”

Alexia’s eyes flashed up to meet your own, her lips falling to a genuine smile as she stood up from your cubby, and before you could pick up your bag she took the honours, collecting the things that you knew you’d need back at the apartment and piling them into your bag before sliding it over her shoulder and starting to walk out, her arm falling comfortably over you shoulder as the two of you met each others pace, walking out towards your car that Alexia had driven you to the game in.

She took care in placing your bag in the boot before sliding into the driver's seat, your keys clanking in the ignition as she started the car.

Almost as soon as she was pulling out of the stadium Alexia’s hand fell to your thigh, a comfortable reminder of the footballers presence.

“You played so well today bebita, I was so proud of you.”

You smiled waterily at Alexia, it was one thing for a reporter to tell you, but for the woman you loved most in the world to tell you that meant something else.

“Thank you, but don’t act like you knew what was going on.”

Alexia cocked her head to the side, frowning at you a little bit.

“Si, maybe, but you got the, what did they call it again? El triple doble, no? Marta said it’s kind of like a hat trick but in basketball lingo, you sunk muchos tres.”

You smiled at Alexia, nodding your head at the Spaniards lack of knowledge over the game you cared for so much, and her attempt at trying to talk basketball to you.

“Yes, I did score a few threes, all of them were for a special person who came out to watch me today.”

Alexia smiled at you, turning her head at the lights to look at you.

“Mm, who might that be?”

You bit your lip, breaking out in a big smile.

“She’s Spanish, and not very good at understanding basketball but she tries and that’s all that matters, she also looks really cute in teal.”

Alexia’s smile only grew at your admission.

“Oh, and she’s a pretty good wag if I do say so myself.”

Alexia silenced your words with a sweet kiss, pressing her lips to yours softly, the two of you having to break apart when the light turned green.

“I’d watch you any day.”

Alexia’s words were murmured quietly, an almost silent acknowledgment of her feelings that was meant just for you.

“I’d watch you any day as well mi amor.”

[kaleldobrev]

Prologue — The 15 Year Problem Series

Pairing: MOC!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester & Unnamed Hunter Boyfriend (OC)

Series Summary: Needing help on a poltergeist case, you ask fellow hunter Sam Winchester for help. Despite having a broken arm, Sam agrees to help you. But, just as he’s about to head out and meet you, Dean tells him that he’ll take his place and help instead.

Chapter Word Count: 1.5k

Chapter Warnings: Age Gap (15 years) & Self-Loathing Dean

Authors Note: A prequel series to the Old Man Universe (OMU) on how Dean and reader met | Takes place a few days after Dean is cured from being a demon in 2016 (please read this post for reasonings why it’s 2016, not 2014) | Thoughts are in italics | Switches between reader & Dean's POV but it's still written in the second person | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

⋆ The 15 Year Problem Masterlist ⋆

Dean sat on the edge of his bed looking at his surroundings that he hadn’t seen in so long. Although it’s only been a few months, it felt like an eternity to him. Everything was still in the exact same place he had left it; and he wasn’t sure if he should be relieved about that or not.

Being in his bedroom back in the Bunker came with a wide variety of emotions. He was happy to be back in a place that he had called home for the past several years, a place where he was finally able to have his own room again since he was four years old. But yet, there was another part of him that wanted to take his keys and drive off somewhere. He loved Sam, he loved Cas but, it was hard to face them again after everything he had done, and after everything he had put them through. Not only during the months he was gone, but during the short amount of time they were trying to cure him of a disease he strangely enjoyed.

“You weren’t you,” Sam had told him repeatedly as if he was a broken record. But Dean didn’t believe his words for a second. He enjoyed being a demon more than he liked to admit. Being able to kill whoever he wanted whenever he wanted without consequence fueled him. Being able to fuel the Mark was easy, being a demon was easy. Being a demon weirdly came natural to him.

Sitting at your desk, you endlessly scrolled through news story after news story, trying to find any excuse to leave your apartment, as it was a place that was currently not giving you the usual sense of peace it tended to provide you. Your apartment was usually your safe space, a place that you could relax and unwind in after a tough hunt. But ever since your boyfriend moved in, it had become a place that you no longer felt safe and calm in.

You and your boyfriend hadn't been together for that long — roughly a year — but during a majority of your relationship, it has been argument after argument, and the arguments were always about the same couple of things. He was either disrespecting you or upset that you didn't bring him along on one of your hunting trips.

He hadn't been a hunter for long — barely two years — and you met him within his first year. You had met him while on a werewolf case, as the two of you found the same lead and decided to work together since he really had no experience with werewolves. For some reason, the two of you clicked, and had been together ever since.

Whenever you and him tended to get into an argument, you wondered why you were still with him, knowing that you could do better. He didn't treat you right, and often undermined you in front of other hunters, sometimes taking credit for your own hunts. You tried to rationalize it, often saying that he was the best you were ever going to do because there was no way you could be with someone that wasn't a hunter, as you felt being with someone that wasn't one would put them in more harm, and you couldn't risk it. But the words of your mother started echoing in your head now, "It's better to be alone than to be with someone who disrespects you." You knew she was right; she was always right.

As you were about to give up, a news story finally jumped out at you, and it screamed poltergeist — your specialty.

Dean stared up at the ceiling, wanting more than anything to fall asleep; but the events of the last few months kept replaying in his head. "You weren't you," Sam's words repeated again and again.

No matter how many times Sam's words repeated, Dean still refused to believe it, as when he was a demon, he felt more like himself than he had been in such a long time; and that scared him.

The things that he did as a demon he would have done regardless; but the only reason he did the things that he did was because he knew there were no consequences, his conscience wasn't trying to stop him. Sam or Cas weren't there to stop him especially.

The Mark started itching again, getting hot with need. I need to kill something, he thought.

Getting off the phone with you, Sam sighed, looking at his slinged arm. There was no way he was going to be able to help you with this case, but it was far too late to call you back now; not after he already agreed to help you. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint you, as you were a big help to him while Dean was gone.

Sam was impressed by you to say the least, as despite your age, you were a damn good hunter with a decent amount of experience under your belt. He hadn't known you for very long — meeting you within the last couple of months — but you had quickly become someone he had grown to deeply trust; and he was incredibly thankful for that, and thankful for you.

Placing his phone back into his pocket, he grabbed his duffel bag and started packing some of the essentials. The case you asked him to join you on was one that was pretty straightforward, so he assumed it wouldn't take more than a couple of days. That's when his mind started to wander, wondering why you had asked for his help in the first place, as poltergeists were one of your specialties and it was the type of case that you could do in your sleep, but yet, you asked him for help.

Closing up your laptop, you grabbed it bringing it over to your bed, before going underneath it and grabbing your duffel. You started packing all of the essentials for a case that would only take you a couple of days. The case was an easy one, one that you could easily do in your sleep, but yet, you called Sam Winchester to help you. There was a small twinge of regret after you got off the phone with him, and you debated back and forth as you packed to call him back up again and tell him, 'Never mind, I got this Sammy.' But deep down, you wanted the company; you wanted to be with someone that treated you like an equal unlike your boyfriend.

"Going on a case?" Your boyfriend asked from behind you.

You turned to look at him for a moment, and he was leaning against the doorway, staring at you as you packed. "Yes," you said, plainly. Even if you weren't going on a case, you felt like you didn't need to explain anything to him.

"Where's the case? I can join you," he offered. But his offer wasn't a genuine one, as the only reason he offered to go with you was to try and make up the argument to you in some way. But you weren't in the mood for any of his gestures.

"Tulsa," you said. "I already called another hunter to help me."

"What hunter?" He asked, making his way to the bed so he could sit down on the edge like he usually did whenever you were attempting to pack for a case.

You looked at him again, annoyed that he kept interrupting your packing. He didn't need to know what hunter was going with you, and he didn't know where the case was going to be. But yet, you felt like you needed to tell him in order to get him off your back. "Sam Winchester," you said simply, and you saw his eyes grow wide.

"Sam Winchester?" He questioned. "Really?"

"Yeah, what's wrong with Sam Winchester?" You asked, curious as to what he had to say about him, as you knew he had never met him. But there were times when you and him would be spending time with fellow hunters, and he would claim that he knew Sam; a bold statement that, whenever said, you tried to hold back a laugh.

“Nothing it’s just…the Winchester’s tend to get a lot of their partners killed,” he said. Your brows furrowed, not only because you were confused on where he heard that, but you’ve hunted with Sam a few times already, and your boyfriend never brought that up to you before.

“I’ve hunted with Sam a few times now, and I’m still alive,” you said, zippering up your duffel. “He’s a great hunting partner, very careful.”

“For now, you’re alive and for now he’s being careful. What happens when he bails on you to save himself?” Your boyfriend asked, his tone excitable now.

“I don’t know because I know for a fact that won’t happen,” your tone was serious and stern, defensive. Despite not knowing Sam for a long time, you trusted him more on hunts than your own boyfriend. “I trust Sam.”

⤑ Move Forward & Read Chapter 1

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