#not sure about using the word firm here tbh

[lenichque]

i’m a firm believer that charles has no ass

[catiuskaa]

need you to [Lee] Know.

SUMMARY: minho loves you: to him, it’s as clear as water. Its only after he finds out that you’re starting to doubt it—he needs you to know just how much.

REQUESTED! here by an anonnie. I hope you like it, pookie, ‘cause I had fun doing this! <3

CW: slight hurt/comfort if you squint, but it’s just fluffy fluffy lino being really down bad and not knowing how to grasp it tbh which just gives me my serotonin dosis for the rest of the month lol

WC: 1.2k

A/N: also omfg kats posting two requests on the same day? that’s right baby, look at me go! 🤩🤩🤩

[🔅★🌼★🔅]

Minho was not the type to show his affection.

He comes off more like a shy kitten that slowly gets used to you, your sweet smell and how soft your touch feels, and then slowly opens up.

“But, uh… can I be real with you for a sec?”

It’s a feminine voice with a strong accent. He can hear it comming from your room, and the slight glitchiness of it makes it obvious that it’s a phone call set on speaker.

“Sure.” He can almost see you shrug, but he just closes the main door as soft as he can, pleading for the cats to stay silent for a little bit longer.

Minho can’t exactly place together why he’s overhearing your phone call. He knows who you’re calling, he can recognize Chan’s sister by her tone. But still, he keeps quiet, gently placing his bag down and silently taking his shoes off.

“I just— and don’t get me wrong, but, your boyfriend kinda seems… bored of you.”

What? Minho has to hold back a scoff, remaining as still as a statue next to the front door. He’s waiting for you to deny it.

“You think so?”

And then, he frowns, because you didn’t. Instead, your tone sounded hesitant. Dubious.

As if you weren’t sure if Minho loved you.

“You say he keeps cancelling your plans together. He has stopped making time for you. Like, girl, you can’t remember when was the last time he told you he loved you.”

Hannah pauses, and that only makes it worse, because it lets every word sink in.

“I uh, well. I ain’t gonna say that he should throw flowers at you every single second, but, uh, you know.”

He can only hear you groan loudly, almost picturing that cute motion you usually did when he meaningly teased you, taking your hair and covering your face with it.

“Can’t say anything for sure with him,” Hannah adds. “But, just by what you’re saying…”

Minho’s heart clenches tightly in his chest. He doesn’t want to keep hearing this... this nonsense. God, he loves you. And you… can’t see it? Frowning, he starts walking to your room, but his movements end in a halt, his hand just above the doorknob, threatening to grasp it and fully open the door.

“Girl, it’s gotta be late down there. Sorry this whole call was about me.” Your chuckle comes off slightly dry. “I’ll talk to you later, ‘kay? Go get some good sleep.” Your tone just screams how bad you’re feeling, and it just makes his chest swell with guilt that slowly creeps up his body.

Maybe he had been taking you for granted?

He opens the door as soon as you press the red button, sighing loudly after ending the call. When you see him, you jump in your place, startled by his presence, and you stand up awkwardly.

“Minho!” You say in a squirm. He can’t help but cringe slightly.

“No.” His tone sounds childish, like a petty toddler who didn’t want to eat the carrots in their lunch.

You frown slowly, the slightly wary grimace melting on your face, allowing a soft confusion to step in.

“No what?” You mutter.

He walks to you slowly, and grabs your hand, taking it to his chest, pressing it flat against his clothed skin, over his heart. You can feel his heartbeat, a not-too-slow rhythm: thump, thump, thump.

“Call me by a pet name. Any pet name.” He says, his tone equally firm and soft. “Call me by a pet name and say you love me.”

He’s serious, but god, so fucking nervous. His brain is slowly melting away because he’s so bad with words and he isn’t sure any action could be enough. He’s already blushing.

“I, huh… I love you, jagi.” You mumble, still confused.

And even if you don’t say it as fondly as always, or if your smile isn’t beaming like how it usually did, you can feel his heartbeat quickening.

“You can feel it, right?” His eyes are soft and worried.

Oh, God. You just know you’ve gotta be pouting. It’s hard to react with words, and the only thing you can fathom doing is linking your arms behind his nape and sinking your face on the crook of his neck.

“Min, I’m so sorry.”

“N-no, kitten.” He mumbles, hugging you tightly too. “I am the one who’s sorry.”

He breathes in, drowning in your soft fragrance. Home. It’s you, it’s warm, and he loves it.

He loves you.

So, he says it. He has to say it. He can’t not say it.

“I love you.”

And it feels so good to let it out that he chuckles. He has to say it again. “I love you.” And again. “God, I love you.” Just once more. “I love you so much.” He’s giggling like a fool, but he’s a fool in love, and that makes him blush even more. “I can’t not love you. Not loving you would turn everyday into Mondays. Like, I can get it tattoed if you want me to. I just. I love you so much that ‘I love you’ can’t even—.”

You move from his shoulder, now facing him, and you cradle his face, pulling him in a kiss that’s so sweet that threatens to give both of you type 1 diabetes.

“Y-you’re crying.” Minho mumbles, softly brushing the stray tears away with his thumb.

“It’s your fault, silly.” You sniff, giggling too. “How can you say stuff like that?”

Your heart is beating like crazy, the butterflies in your stomach are multiplying by seconds and in your cheeks glistens a bright and deep shade of pink.

You want to say it too. But in his own way.

So, you take his hand and settle it on your chest. Right above your heart.

It’s a rapid thump thump thump that Minho feels right away. He can’t help but smile widely.

“I super-mega-love you.” He teases, picking you up in between his arms.

You’re laughing, squirming in his hold.

“Lee Minho! Put me down!”

But he just grips your body tighter to his, and walking as if you weighted nothing, heading towards your bed, plopping you down there.

“Good girl.” He snickers, and you blush even further. Minho takes your chin tenderly and pecks your lips. For a moment, certain kind of idea flashes through his head, but he just kissed you again, following his previous thought.

He opens your closet with a toothy grin, and halfly eyes the window before picking up a random shirt, a grey hoodie that used to be his, a dark skirt and your thigh-high socks, going as far as to the suspenders for you.

He then turns to face you, his eyes glowing. He can’t wait to see you all dolled up. Minho feels like a teenager, and he loves it.

“You have twenty minutes.”

You blink at him, and you can’t help but smile, confused.

“I’m taking your cute ass to a date.”

It may not be an instant fix to the struggles to your relationship, but as you two walk down the beach, looking for colourful rocks that match each other’s eye colour, you know that he’s worth fighting for.

Regarding Minho, he happily hums to himself, eyes glued to your figure as you cackle and run in the beach, as you look behind you and giggle at the prints your boots leave in the humid sand.

He smiles, running towards you, tackling you and holding you in his arms.

He’s not letting go anytime soon.

~Kats, who always struggles to choose a picture for the fics because istg lino looks good in every single moment!!

[insomniakisses]

In honor of your Leah brain rot do you want to do your favorite hcs about our sweet girl ? It can be silly , as a mate, sexual or random bingo card facts we should know

I did NOT realize how many anons there are!! how do you answer all of us ! You have your own pack here ;)

- 💋

A/n: Sure heres a little somethin somethin for yall about our sweet girl!

Meeting Omega Leah

(Arsenal Pack Omega Leah Au)

You were new to arsenal, having just transferred from a previous team and you were beyond nervous about the amount of alphas at arsenal.

Also the size and agressiveness some of them like katie or caitlin have

The minute you walk in your being shown around and meeting each of the girls. It goes relatively smoothly bar a few sexual jokes and groping mainly from katie bc girl cant help herself.

Then you meet leah and she just stares at you silently for a good few minutes.

You’re a little scared by it tbh because you know shes a big part of the arsenal pack. A core member and in charge despite being an omega so the thought of you having offended or upset her was terrifying

Then she mumbles something that u don’t quite hear, her face scrunching so adorably in disapproval.

You awkwardly ask her to repeat it, stating you hasn’t heard her and she huffs rolling her eyes a clear show of her growing annoyance.

“I cant smell you” she grumbles out, louder this time. Her face still scrunches into a disgusted pout. Looking truly adorable.

You hardly have time to react before shes reaching towards the scent blocker patch on your neck. Tugging at the object like its her worst enemy.

“Off!” She grumbles at you and your blushing now, shocked at her poutyness.

You’d heard story’s if her temper, and of her skill but not of how cute and whiney she could be.

“I- I can’t the alphas-“ she rolls her eyes at your protests and grabs your arm.

Her grip is firm but gentle as she tugs you down the corridor into a softly lit room.

She turns to you and raises a brow at you, releating her previous command. Though this time theres more force in the words.

“Off.” She tugs the patch on ur writs snatching it off with ease and makes short of the one on ur other wrist before her eyes narrow to the ones placed either side your neck.

There the next to go before she pushes u down, you gasp at the feeling of soft that hits you and the overwhelming mesh of alpha scents.

“This is your nest..” you trail off eyes wide and she hums leaning to nose the scent gland on your neck. Giving it a soft lick as she takes in your sent already feeling herself get needy for you the teams her new mate.

“Ours.” She mutters, tone leaving no room for argument as she busy herself scenting at you and rocking her hips as she takes the edge of her neediness off on your thigh.

[joelscruff]

forget my charms (dave york x f!reader) 18+

a/n finally watched equalizer 2 and he's been living in my mind rent free! i don't really know what this is tbh, it was kind of a challenge to myself to try and write a drabble because i'm notoriously bad at keeping fics short & sweet. so i'm not sure how i feel about the lack of real story here but we go anyway! enjoy & please be sure to read the warnings! summary: your new boss gives you a memorable first day. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: fingering, lap sitting, power imbalance, infidelity, unprotected p in v (doggy), creampie, finger sucking, dirty talk, praise kink, tie used as a gag word count: 1.5k

You only met him this morning. It had been brief, his office just one stop of many on your guided tour the first day of your new job. Your co-worker had tapped lightly on his door, opened it a crack and told him he should come meet the new hire. Your stomach had turned when you'd heard him sigh deeply on the other side - you were already feeling out of place, more than a little like a fish out of water, and the concept of disrupting the boss on the first day wasn't appealing in the slightest.

But he'd been gracious. He'd come to the door and opened it wider, stood beneath the arch with an appraising little smile on his lips as he looked at you. It had been memorable, the way he'd taken your hand in his large palm and squeezed, peering at you with something attentive in his eyes, almost... intrigued. Welcome, he'd told you, it's lovely to meet you.

And now, only hours later, his fingers are in your pussy.

Pumping slow and deep, rhythmic and filthy as you lounge in his lap with your legs wide and your head resting languidly against the heat of his neck. He's got your skirt pulled up, one big hand spread firm over your trembling belly while he fucks you with his middle and index. The flickering blue of his computer monitor is your only source of light, showering his office in a dim glow.

You whimper and his fingers still, lodged deep inside your heat. He hushes you softly, strokes your tummy with his thumb and leans back slightly in his chair.

"Shh, sweetheart," he murmurs, voice low and husky, "Don't want the night crew to know what we're doing in here, now do we?"

No, you certainly don't. Can't even imagine what the reaction would be were anyone from the office to know you're being fingered by the boss on your first day. You bite down on your lip and lean back into his lap, look down with hooded eyes as he slowly resumes the slow plunge of his fingers. They're so thick, coated in a clear gloss of your release that glows blue in the light. He places his thumb on your clit, applies pressure, and you let out another pathetic whimper.

"Ohh, poor thing," he admonishes gently, "You want something in your mouth to help you stay quiet?" his hand comes up to brush against your face, "Hm? You need something to suck on?"

Your brain feels empty but you nod anyway, eyelashes fluttering as he wastes no time in slipping the middle and index of his left hand past the wetness of your lips. You suck immediately, closing your eyes and feeling them roll behind your lids as he fucks two of your holes at once, just taking, using.

Is this why I'm here, you can't help but think to yourself, did I only get this job so he could play with me like some kind of doll?

You can't quite believe you're even in this situation. You'd stayed late in order to make a good impression, still had some things you needed to figure out at your desk anyway. Everyone else had slowly trickled out of the office, until you'd realized all that remained was you and Mr. York. He'd smiled at you through the open blinds of his office, leaning back in his chair with his legs wide and his arms stretched behind his head. He'd brought one down when your eyes had met, crooked his finger as if to say, Come here for a minute.

You'd gotten up from your desk and entered his office, anxiety building in the pit of your stomach. You'd hoped you weren't about to be reprimanded for something you thought would impress him.

But he didn't reprimand you. He didn't mention the fact that you were staying late, didn't ask about how the job was treating you, if there was anything you needed, no. Instead, he'd looked you up and down again with that assessing, calculative stare and murmured, "Can you come sit in my lap for a little while, sweetheart?"

You suppose you could've said no. Probably should have, actually. That would have been the most logical thing to do - slam the door and quit your job, maybe even sue for harassment. Anyone else probably would have. But you'd taken one look at his crotch, seen the noticeably thick shape that bulged against his thigh, and realized he'd been sitting there watching you for who knows how long. He'd gotten that hard just from looking, assessing.

Fuck it.

"There you go," he breathes softly now, peering at you with dark and imploring eyes as he fucks your mouth and pussy, "That's a good girl, honey, I know," his brow furrows when you whine around his fingers, "I know, baby. You're doing so good."

He rocks you in his lap like you belong there, and it's impossible not to feel the way his clothed cock throbs against your ass. You want to see it so badly, want to touch it, taste it - but he doesn't give you the opportunity. Instead, he circles his thumb against your clit until you're shaking in his arms, hands gripping anything you can reach - the chair, your knee, his wrist. Your orgasm rolls through you and his fingers muffle the sound of your whines, your gasps, until your bones feel like jelly and your heart has slowed. He stills his movements again and lazily pulls all four fingers out of you, watches you breathe deeply and fall back against him with goosebumps rising on your skin.

"Get up now, baby. Bend over the desk for me," he tells you in that low voice, "Show me your pussy."

You pull yourself out of his lap on extremely shaky legs but obey his orders, inching forward a little to position yourself against his desk. You can feel his eyes on you as you reach back and pull yourself apart for him, show him where his fingers have invaded and explored, opened you up and made you drool.

"Juicy little thing," you hear him murmur, and then his belt buckle is jangling and you know what comes next. Legs still trembling, you keep holding yourself open and push yourself further down onto the desk, skirt pulled high and panties still hanging off one of your ankles.

He's filling you up in no time at all, cock plunged deep to the hilt and so much bigger than you'd anticipated. His tip kisses a spot inside of you that you're not sure anyone's ever been able to reach, and against your own volition you moan, low and long, full of pleasure and desperation.

You hear him tsk somewhere above you, "You really can't stay quiet can you?" He says it softly but it's full of condescension, like it's starting to genuinely bother him. Before you can apologize he's reaching down for something, still bottomed out completely inside of you as his arms and hands seem to do something out of sight. A few seconds later his blue polka dotted tie appears in front of your face, and then he's carefully settling the soft material between your lips, pulling back and tying it meticulously behind your head. A makeshift gag.

"Gotta learn to be quiet when I fuck you, okay?" he breathes, raspy and dark as he slowly pulls his cock from your pussy, only to feed it back to you again just as slow, "You don't want us to get in trouble, do you?"

No, sir, you want to whisper, but you can't. All you can do is nod slightly and grip the desk when he starts to fuck you in earnest, thrusting deep and hard before pulling out and doing it all over again. Your thighs quiver and shake against the cool wood, and as you lay there and let him take, you spot something out of the corner of your eye.

A framed picture of a family - his family.

You avert your eyes, turning your head slightly to see where his left hand is gripping your shoulder as he fucks you - you spot the wedding ring immediately. Christ.

But you don't stop it. You don't push him away, you don't leave. Even though you probably should. Even though the logical part of your brain is screaming at you that what's happening really shouldn't be, especially now that you know he's a married man.

You just let him use you. You let him fuck and fill you until he's gripping your hair in his fist and his cock is spasming and pulsing inside of you. You let him release his entire load inside your pussy, bare and messy. And then you let him pull you into his chair, tug the tie from your mouth and situate you back in his lap, still impaled on his cock.

Neither of you speak for a solid minute. He catches his breath while you try not to look at the photograph, to forget its existence entirely.

"The last one quit the first day," you hear him mumble, voice edged with tiredness, "But you won't, will you?" He thrusts shallowly inside of you, holds you against his chest as his cum starts to leak out and dribble down the hefty shape of his balls. "You'll let me do this, huh?"

What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

[97keanu]

୨୧ request ୨୧ daddy dom jw! reader in a collar and leash! size kink!

𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒍𝒚...

CW/Tags: smut, pet play, leash and collar, s&m dynamics, age gap, p in v, oral f/m receiving, trust dynamics, john is a VERY good dom <3, inexperienced!reader (to bdsm), commanding and authoritive john, use of daddy/puppy/good girl etc, SIZE KINK, John is a firm but caring dom, filthy smut, john ofc does after care, emotional reader after sex, might be the dirtiest thing I’ve written tbh…

Words: 5.3k

The steady rhythm of John Wick's footsteps on his morning walk always woke you up before your alarm. Like clockwork, he'd pass your house at 6:15 a.m., his black-on-black attire and leash in hand as his dog trotted obediently beside him. It was routine. Comforting. A reminder that the man next door wasn’t your typical middle aged dad-type—he didn’t care to invite you to the latest neighborhood cookout, or wave enthusiastically as he mowed his lawn on Sunday mornings. No, he was painfully, infuriatingly disciplined, in all he did.

At first, you only noticed him in passing. The quiet but polite neighbor who always nodded in acknowledgment, even when your conversations were limited to small talk at the mailbox. But something about John lingered: his presence, his patience, the way he seemed to see through people without saying a word. That quiet power drew you in before you even realized it, pulling you closer until your innocent hellos morphed into stolen glances—and eventually, something far less innocent.

Now, as you stood in his kitchen, sipping coffee while the leash you’d asked for sat coiled neatly on the counter, your heart raced in a way you hadn’t felt in years. John leaned against the doorframe, his gaze as steady as ever, though the hint of a smirk tugged at his lips.

"You keep staring at that like you're second-guessing yourself," he said, voice low and deliberate. "Changed your mind?"

You shook your head, fingers brushing the leather. "Not exactly. Just... getting used to the idea."

"Good," he replied, stepping closer.

His shadow felt larger than life as he closed the space between you, the width of his chest splayed out over a black shirt, the cotton holding him close.

"Because I don’t do halfway. If this is what you want, you’ll give me everything. Understand?”

Your eyes don't know where to go, your legs shift, thighs squeezing nervously with a rush of fear and excitement. You've had fantasies about something like this sure, but you never really thought…

“Eyes up here, puppy…” his voice isn't asking for attention, it's commanding, authority ripe in his deep voice.

Your obedience was what drew him in. The way you looked up when told, eyes big and full of nothing less than the want to please, even the highest of demands.

“If you want to back out, simply shake your head no.” His eyes watched yours, letting silence fill the kitchen without any hint of awkwardness.

He waits, letting you decide for yourself before continuing. Your head remains glued in place, worried even the slightest of flinches may give away any second doubts, something that John may see and deem a reason to stop right here and now. Your eyes search his dark ones, and you watch his lips part once more, a deep breath inhaled there.

“Or, you can put on your collar like a good girl and we can get started.”

Each word makes your heart thump in your ears, excitement rushing into every cell of your body. Your fingers twitch, and your eyes flashback over to that tempting leather that calls to you. Somehow, you know if you go through with this, you will never really be the same, never able to go back to how you were, placating frat boys at your college and having mediocre sex with boys who never even cared if you enjoyed a second of it. No, if you do this, you’ll crave it for the rest of your life.

Your fingers lift, grazing across the dark marble counter until they reach smooth, black leather. A collar just for you, perfect for your pretty little neck, custom made with the finest materials John could find for you. Your mouth parts, and a shaky, but excited breath leaves you as you bring the collar up to your neck.

“That’s a my girl…” John sets his coffee on the counter, walking behind you and brushing your hair to the side.

You feel his large, warm hands touch the nape of your neck, electricity passing between the two of you, unspoken tension building between your legs as he finishes the buckle back there. He tightens it just enough to be snug, but no more. He lets your hair drop once more, then lets his hands encapsulate your shoulders, their firm roughness bringing heat to your skin.

“Let’s begin.”

꩜ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ✩ ୨୧˚

John had guided you—no, commanded you—into the living room, his hand firm but not forceful at the base of your neck as you followed his lead. The leash connected to your collar trailed in his other hand, the soft clink of the chain with each step grounding you. Your skin prickles, hyper aware of every move he makes, a wolf circling its prey before going in for the kill.

“Good,” he murmured, the single word full of approval as he turned you to face him, your heart blooming at the idea of pleasing him. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, roamed over you with an intensity that made your knees weak. “You’re already learning.”

You tried to swallow the knot in your throat, but his presence made it impossible. John Wick wasn’t the kind of man to rush anything—he took his time, measured and deliberate, savoring every reaction you gave him.

“Sit,” he instructed, gesturing to the plush ottoman in the center of the room. His voice was calm, as if you’d done this a hundred times before, and the weight of it settled over you like a blanket.

When you hesitated, his lips curved into a faint smile—not playful, but knowing. “Second-guessing yourself again?”

You shook your head quickly, not wanting to displease or seem childish in front of him, sitting as instructed. The moment you obeyed, his long fingers hooked under your chin, his large hand tilting your face upward so you couldn’t look anywhere but at him. Those dark eyes pierce right into the very depths of your being as his soft lips move.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make the air between you feel electric. “Now, let’s see how far you’re willing to go.”

John continues circling you slowly, his footsteps deliberate, each one echoing softly in the quiet room. You felt his presence like a heavy shadow, his gaze burning into you even when he wasn’t directly in front of you.

“Do you know why I like this?” he asked, his voice calm, almost conversational.

The question makes you pause.

You hadn't considered it. You were used to men using you for your body, for their own pleasure, disregarding yours entirely. You figured it was any mans dream to have a sweet, supple young woman such as yourself, collared and begging to please their every whim. You briefly open your soft, glossy lips to reflect.

John stops behind you, his hand brushing lightly against the leash before pulling it taut—not enough to restrict, just enough to remind you it was there.

You shook your head, words failing you under the weight of his scrutiny.

“It’s not just the control,” he continued, his voice low, steady, and far too composed. “It’s the trust. The way you give yourself over to me without hesitation.”

His fingers trailed along your shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine.

“It means you believe I’ll take care of you... even when I push you.”

You inhaled sharply, the meaning in his words sinking in.

“But trust,” he said, moving to stand in front of you again, “isn’t just given. It’s earned. And right now, you’re going to show me exactly how much you trust me.”

He crouched slightly, bringing himself to eye level with you, his sleek suit pants tight against his thighs, his expression unreadable yet entirely commanding. His hand tilted your chin up again, his thumb brushing along the line of your jaw.

“Speak,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Do you trust me?”

You breathe, looking at the man before you, at his imposing presence and how easy it would be for him to take advantage of you at any moment. How you could just be another silly, young girl he's lured into his trap.

But your mouth says otherwise.

“Yes,” you whispered, the word barely audible, but it was enough to make his lips curl into that faint, knowing smile again.

“Good,” he said, his approval like a reward in itself. “Then you’ll listen. You’ll follow. You’ll let me guide you.”

He tugged gently on the leash, urging you to stand. The movement was unhurried, meticulous, as if he wanted you to feel every second of his control.

As you rose to your feet, his free hand pressed against the small of your back, steadying you. The simple act sent a jolt of awareness through your body, reminding you that while he held all the power in this moment, it wasn’t about domination—it was about connection. About trust.

“You’re doing well,” he said softly, his fingers brushing the leather of your collar before settling back on the leash. “But we’re just getting started.”

His hands gently leave you, and he steps away once more, eyes flickering across every inch of your body, taking you in.

“Strip.” he commands, his voice unyielding in authority.

You hesitate. You had never felt so subconscious of yourself as you did in this moment. It's not like you hadn't been seen naked before, but that was always hurried, dark dorm rooms and drunken kisses taking up most of your awareness. You had never been inspected the way John's dark eyes were watching you now.

His eyebrow flicks up for a moment, and you hesitate no longer, hands going up under your short black mini skirt to begin pulling down your stockings, the way you usually get undressed at home, without much care for the act.

John's hand gives the leash a tug as he speaks.

“Slower. Start at the top.”

You freeze, your mind overwhelmed by the scrutiny, but your need to please take over.

You straighten, eyes flicking from John to the floor and back again over and over as you slowly begin to unbutton your pale pink blouse. You think about it, taking a breath and releasing it slowly to calm yourself from all the attention, hands steadying and making sure to be intentional, calculated in their strokes.

You had never had to be sexy in front of someone like this, a worry forming in your brow and your excessive fluttering lashes as you wonder if you're accomplishing the job. John's eyes give nothing away, his gaze steady, as if testing just exactly how you will react to such stimuli.

You shrug your shoulders as your blouse begins to gently glide off, falling down to your elbows and exposing your pretty pink bra beneath, complete with lace and bows. You wonder if you seem too inexperienced, too girlish, a waif who knows nothing of this dominant world that John is so clearly a part of.

As your first article of clothing falls to the floor, John gives the slightest of approving nods, and nothing more, eyes hungry to see just what else you will do.

Your hands reach behind your back to unbutton your bra, but you see John give a shake of his head, and your hands fall anxiously onto your thighs.

Right, right. Slow. Sexy. Deliberate.

You instead do something bold. Turning around, one step after another, a click of a heel then the other. Your manicured hands come under the waistband of your cream mini skirt, slowly but surely shimming the soft fabric down. You feel the bare parts of your ass tingle against the chill of the room, matching lacy panties snug against your skin, white stockings sheer in the light.

You can't see his face, and for a moment you wonder if you've killed the mood entirely until you hear him release a breath.

“Good.”

This one's softer than the others.

Your skirt pools at your ankles, and you slowly step one foot out, the other kicking the fabric away.

You take a moment, your back still to him, and you let your eyes close as you compose the butterflies fluttering deep in your stomach.

Your hands reach once more behind you, your bra seemingly the next logical clothing item to go.

You didn't realize John had come so close behind you, a frightened gasp slipping from your pink, pouty lips as his hands circle around both your wrists.

“Let me savor you.” His voice drips with want, his nose and mouth pressed against the back of your head, taking your scent in.

As he breathes you in, you feel your body press into his, his warmth, his tight suit, his hard cock pressed against your ass.

A moan escapes you as his hands come to your waist, touching the exposed skin of your midriff, goosebumps left in the wake of his lingering fingertips.

“John…” You breath out, and you feel a hand take the leather of your leash once more, a firm tug to let you know your place.

“You may call me master, sir, whatever signature of authority you choose, but never John.” He whispers it into your ear, his breath tickling you and his serious tone sending shivers all the way down your spine.

You mull this over, your lips curling into a smile as you finally land on the right one.

“Daddy…” you breathe out, a bit nervous to use it out loud for the first time, but knowing you’ve been thinking it ever since you laid eyes on John.

John chuckles in your hair softly, and you can feel his lips smile against you.

“Daddy it is…” he softly agrees, then pauses before letting out a long breath.

His heat moves away from your back, his hand moving around your neck gently as he comes to face you from the front. His eyes search yours deeply for a moment before speaking.

John’s thumb traced a slow, deliberate circle against your collarbone, the silence stretching between you like a live wire. His gaze softened, just for a moment, a rare glimpse of something gentler beneath his steady exterior.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, a quiet reassurance that sent warmth blooming in your chest. “But we’re not done yet.”

The leash in his hand shifted slightly, the chain catching the light as he gave the slightest tug. The motion drew your attention—and your body—closer to him.

“Kneel,” he said, his tone calm but leaving no room for question.

You blinked up at him, the weight of the command settling over you. His hand moved to cradle your cheek, his touch firm yet tender.

“No hesitation,” he reminded you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Show me you’re ready for this.”

The steady authority in his voice made it impossible to resist, and you sank to your knees without a second thought, the floor cold even through your stockings. As soon as you did, John let out a satisfied hum, the corner of his mouth lifting in approval.

“Perfect,” he said, tilting your chin upward again, his fingers brushing your skin like a promise. “Now, keep your eyes on me.”

Your big eyes gaze up at him, lashes fluttering with the slightest hint of confusion before reminding yourself that you need to put your trust in him. Your heart races in your throat as his size-able hands reach down to his belt, the cold sound of metal clinking against itself and leather ruffling through fabric echoes through the room as he slowly slips his belt off. You gaze in wonder for what is to come next, your mouth opening as if to ask then closing again as you remind yourself of your position here.

John wraps the belt around one arm, leaving it there. With the other he holds your leash, his dark eyes bore into yours.

“Take my cock out.” He instructs, and your immediate reaction is to flush, a heat rising in your cheeks hotter than it ever has.

You feel like a fish gasping for air on dry land as the command washes over you. You blink a few times before the tug of your collar grounds you back into reality, and you look to where you can see the massive outline of John's cock showing against his black suit pants, tight and ready to be released.

You look back up into his eyes, and without another word, your hands begin fumbling with the button and zipper, your big doe eyes searching his for that much needed approval.

“Y-yes…” You whisper, barely audible to keep yourself going, and you feel John's hand tighten its grip on your leash.

“Yes, what?” He raises an arched dark brow, his expectations in his eyes.

“Yes, Daddy…” You fumble a few times more with the zipper as the words drip from your mouth, sweet as honey.

“That’s a good girl…”

As the zipper comes to it's final resting place at the base of John's cock, you press beneath the waistband of his underwear, almost struggling to get a cock of his size out from such a cramped space.

Heat radiates from there, your hand almost refusing to wrap all the way around his shaft as it pops out in front of your face, dangling there with all its girth and surprising length.

Oh god…

You wonder how you will anything that size anywhere inside of you, and your pussy aches as you think of it filling you all the way to the brim. You feel your mouth water as you look back up at John from his cock, your eyebrows pressed together in worry and lust.

“Alright, puppy,” John sighs out, a smirk curled on his lips at your reaction. “Let’s see just how much your mouth can take…”

You gulp back fear, and look back at his cock, two hands coming up to grip it from both sides. You breathe out slow, and you consider all the other cocks you've taken before, but none have even compared to the one before you.

You bring your mouth to his tip, pressing it against the flat of your tongue, taking a few long licks and savoring his taste. Your eyes meet his, hoping desperately you're being a good girl as you move to take more and more of him into your mouth. He fills every inch, and soon enough, you've barely got half of his cock in your mouth before he's reached the back of your throat. A slight sense of panic starts to wash over you as you consider the very real possibility that you won't be able to get all the way to the base of his cock, and you squirm as you try to readjust in a way that might.

“Take your time,” John whispers while letting a hand come to rest on the back of your head, his fingers gently petting your hair there. You can't help but moan into his cock, the feeling of being treated as such making you wetter by the minute.

You work his shaft with your hands, trying your best to get him down the back of your throat over and over as you begin to pick up speed. You notice that certain things you're doing right now illicit a moan from John, like swirling your tongue or twisting your hands just right, and you almost whimper into his cock as you realize what a good girl you're being.

“That’s right puppy, take as much as you can…” John's hand begins to apply pressure to the back of your head, slowly but surely forcing you deeper and deeper onto his cock until you're practically choking on it.

Your whimpers get cut off by his huge cock filling up your throat, and your toes curl beneath you as your knees begin to scream against the hardwood floors. You squeeze your eyes closed tight, trying your hardest to not let any discomfort come between you and being a good puppy.

Your nose begins to hit against his lower stomach, your mouth filled with spit that has no where to go, your pretty little throat tight around his cock. John’s hips buck into your mouth, controlled thrusts forcing himself deeper until you don't think you can take anymore, until the breath in your lungs swells up from being cut off so often, and your moans are silenced by John’s hand working your head into his cock and keeping it there for way too long. You squirm, your weight shifting in your thighs and your cunt dripping with want, your eyes beginning to water and looking up at him with the most pleading, desperate look.

John grips your hair one last time and pulls the entirety of his cock out of you, your breath suddenly rushing back in, a few coughs and a trail of spit from you to him as well.

John’s breath seems to be stolen for a moment as well, his hand rubbing your head with respect and admiration for your job well done.

“God…” He catches his breath, looking down at you with thinly veiled awe. “You’ve been such a brave girl for me, taking all that cock.”

You have no idea what you look like staring up at him from the floor, your make up beginning to slide down your cheeks from the tears that welled up, but you imagine you're beaming at him. Hearing him say that has you in a daze of euphoria, and you nod along, his hand coming from your head to cup your face softly.

“Does a good pet like you deserve a treat?” He smiles gently as you nod into his hand, your eyes closing from working so hard.

He leans down and gently lifts you from the floor, picking you up effortlessly, as if your weight meant nothing to him. You watch his strong arms tense under his shirt, and you practically swoon.

He takes you over to a nearby chair, laying you in it softly and beginning to kneel now himself, positioned between your legs. You look down at him, lids half closed and still out of it from the throat fucking you just took, watching as his hands take in your legs, rubbing all the way up to between your thighs and grabbing your stockings there.

Before you can question just what he's doing, John’s strong hands grip the white see through material there and tear, a startling rip making you jump for a moment and hold your breath. Before you can react to John ruining your pair of stockings, he slides your pretty pink panties to the side to expose your glistening cunt, and your legs tremble for a moment, considering closing in embarrassment before his hands firmly open you back up.

“Don’t you dare try to hide such a pretty pussy from me ever again.” He looks up at you with hunger and adoration. “Understood?”

“Yes, Daddy…” You nod eagerly, body tense with want and waiting for what comes next.

He watches you for a moment, making sure you really understand, before diving in.

You gasp as his mouth refuses to hesitate, refuses to let you acclimate to the warmth of this tongue and the softness of his lips. Instead, he devours you, sucking on your clit until it stands to attention, aching and wanting more. He laps at your juicy cunt with relish, savoring how good you taste on his tongue, his fast and short breaths tickling every part of you down there. Your hands clutch the arms of the leather chair, your legs up over his shoulders and your heels clacking behind his head as he bobs up and down on your pussy, licking every inch of you he can.

“Fuck,” You moan out as you feel yourself shaking at his every touch, your heart beating out of your chest.

With the hand that’s not keeping your panties out of the way, he lets two fingers soak up your wetness before slowly making their way inside of you. He refocuses his mouth on your clit, his fingers twisting and testing just how well you adjust. You cry out, trying not to curse so much but you can’t help yourself. It’s as if your body has been possessed with lust and ignited by John Wick’s tongue.

”Oh god, John, I think I’m going to cum!” You feel that familiar tightness in your lower stomach begin to build, your thighs tensing and attempting to close in on John’s head.

“You better not, puppy!” John pulls off of your clit, mouth soaked and shiny from your wetness, his hands moving to opening you nice and wide as well as giving your collar a firm tug to bring you off of the edge.

You practically yelp from the sudden difference, your chest heaving, your eyes unfocused and confused from being stolen away from such a beautiful wave of pleasure.

“Not until I get my thick cock inside that tight cunt of yours.” John warns, moving to line his throbbing cock up with your entrance.

You gulp back fear as he taps his cock against your cunt, the heaviness of it bouncing off of you as you shudder.

“Now, are you going to be a good puppy who waits to cum until Daddy tells her too?” His tone makes you remember your place in all of this, makes you remember that you have no say in when you derive your pleasure.

All you can do is nod, wide doe eyes looking from his to his cock with wanton want.

“I need to hear you say it.” He growls as he rubs himself against you, his length evident as he does so and beginning to make your stomach squirm in worry.

“Y-yes…” You breathe out, forgetting the rules as you focus on just how much cock you will soon be taking.

“Yes, what?” John growls as he lets the tip of his cock play with the idea of entering you.

“Yes,” You take a deep breath, bracing for what he’s about to do. “Daddy…”

John’s hips snap back, the forward, slamming the entirety of his cock into you in one swift blow. You have never felt such a rush of pleasure and pain at the same time, a guttural cry escaping your mouth and your hands leaving marks in his expensive leather chair.

“Oh, John…” You cry out as he thrusts into you, his want taking over, his need beginning to spiral out of control.

“What was that?” He mocks the use of his real name with harder thrusts, his breath coming quicker and heavier as the seconds pass.

“D-ad-dy-“ You moan out, the word cut off by each powerful thrust, the movement taking over the whole of your body.

“That’s it darling,” He closes his eyes, getting lost in just how tight you feel around his cock, just how warm it is inside you. “Touch yourself like a good girl, now.”

You do as he instructs, the feeling of your fingers circling your throbbing clit taking away some of the edge of the pain of his massive cock, and you bite into your lip to try to stop from cumming right then and there.

You have to be a good girl for him, you have to do what Daddy says and wait for him to tell you to cum.

You never thought you would see John lose such control, lose himself inside of you and let go of such rigid mannerisms. His long hair falls into his face, a slight gleam of sweat building up on his shoulders as he puts all he can into fucking the absolute shit out of you, using up every inch of you he can, pressing himself so deep inside you, you don’t think you’ll ever be the same again.

You play with your clit intermittently, having to stop now and then to keep yourself from falling over the edge and cumming right then and there. It’s pure torture, you can barely keep up with it all.

John’s muscles tighten, and you can see he’s getting closer. You hear soft moans coming from him, held back by only the slightest bit of control he has left. As his cock swells inside you, the raw feeling of him sliding in and out overwhelms your senses. You feel as if you’ve never been this full before, never been fucked as deep as you have now, and you know that nothing else will compare ever again. Your moans become incoherent, hands gripping for anything they can get a hold of, legs wrapped around John’s waist as he pulls himself in deeper, deeper, deeper…

”Please Daddy…” You whisper out, barely able to form the words. “Can I please cum?”

John groans, his teeth gritting, and nods.

“Yes, babygirl…” He huffs.

You take no time waiting, your fingers dashing around your clit in mad circles as he continues filling you up over and over again, hitting just the right spots inside you effortlessly. You feel yourself tense more than ever, your legs clamping down around his waist, your pussy tighter than ever around his thick cock. John lets the last bit of control he has go as your cum around his cock, your cunt fluttering and throbbing, leaving him no choice but to spill the biggest load of cum inside you you’ve ever had. He moans out, unable to keep himself from doing as such, his breaths shaky and his hips rocking out the last few bits of pleasure that they can. You ride his wave, bucking with him and taking everything you can like the good puppy you are. John practically collapses into you, the arms of the chair keeping his full weight from weighing down on you.

He leaves his cock inside you, letting it throb out any final bits of cum for the moment, his face close to yours, your breath intertwining with his. Both of your eyes are closed, but his mouth finds yours with ease, those soft lips of his tiredly taking soft kisses and whimpers from you.

Finally, when he has the strength, John Wick stands, slowly pulling out of you, his hot cum leaking out of your abused hole. He pushes his mess of long, dark locks out of his face, then looks down at you with half open eyes, before leaning down to scoop you up. He takes you to a larger couch, where you can both sprawl out more, collapsing into it with you in his arms.

He says nothing for a moment, the sounds of his breath and heartbeat beneath your cheek as you try to catch your own, completely out of it by now.

You feel his big hand begin petting your sweaty hair, stroking it with softest, most admiring touches. Your ears ring as you come down from it all, and eventually you make a sound that isn’t his heart or his breath.

“You did such a good job…” He breathes out in tired, half mumbles. ”I’m so proud of you…”

Your heart swells, and the exhilaration and emotion gets to you, tears welling up in your eyes. You dip your head into the crook of his chest and arm, hiding your face as to not embarrass yourself from crying after sex.

“Oh, come here, darling.” John purrs, pulling you closer, gently rubbing your back as you let it all out.

“You’re safe,” He whispers to you. “I got you, you’re safe right here, baby.”

He purrs sweet compliments and assures your safety over and over, gently kissing the top of your head. You let the emotions come and pass into pure bliss, and eventually, to the sound of his soft cooing words, you fall asleep in John Wick’s arms.

[pepstarvanmoon]

Someone please get El out of there

Is it not obvious what this is? Do you really not know what you should be doing? SAY THE DAMN WORDS.

Why do you think she’s doubting you? Can you really not tell?

Mike, sweetheart, your relationship balancing skills are a terror to your friends, family, and romantic partners.

This is why people found Midleven cuter in S1/2, because the day you made it official marked the beginning of El’s doubts in your feelings for her.

You cannot seem to grasp that El is your friend AND your girlfriend, and somehow treating El like a girlfriend equates to treating her like shit.

You cannot make this up. El needs WORDS because Mike’s ACTIONS actively make her feel unloved. She does not feel it, so she wants some kind of verbal/written affirmation because of how emotionally distant Mike feels.

(someone talented please edit Elmike to Hamilton’s Burn or send an existing edit my way, thank you ♡)

His actions do not align to her expectations of love, not that it’s a good idea to let TV define romance for you, but you’re allowed to want/expect certain things in a relationship, and El isn’t getting that.

And let’s not act like Mike isn’t good at making people feel loved/cared for. Will is in love with him for a reason. El loves him for a reason.

(It was difficult to pick scenes for this because I’ve read arguments for how these aren’t really romantic at all, but from 12/13-year old, “fresh out the lab” Eleven, it’s as romantic as romance gets imo)

El has been trying to convince herself that their relationship is better than it is, because once she admits to herself that it’s not working, what does she do?

Her day-to-day life isn’t that great. Sure, she has her new family in the Byers, but her dad recently passed away and she’s being bullied at school. She has no friends outside of Will, and while I’m sure their relationship is great (wasn’t explored that much tbh), he can’t keep her from feeling isolated, and his own trauma with bullying keeps him from standing up for her.

One good, unchanging thing she has is her relationship with Mike. He’s the one who took her in and housed her, he taught her what it meant to be a friend, and… I’m having a bit of trouble here lol. I was going to say:

Never used her for her powers (not true lol)

When she was burnt out, he never expected more from her (not true LOL)

Never treated her differently for her powers (for this one, he found her awesome in an awestruck way rather than a Brenner “I’m gonna exploit this” way, but when he thought she lied about Will/hurt Lucas he was on her ass lmao)

My girl has those ‘first love’ blinders on. I keep having to ask myself what she sees in him besides ‘first person to accept me + we kissed’ like besides the latter, Dustin was right there. A lot of the parts of Mike I enjoy don’t reveal themselves around El outside S1 (barely S2). He’s shown as caring and protective, but he’s like that for all of his friends?? Especially when they’re in danger so idk what’s different. I’d have to peruse the milkvan tag to get a hint, but I’ll probably get a better idea watching Sleeping Beauty.

I’m a firm believer that Mike kept it ambiguous because he didn’t want to admit what the real problem was to Will.

“I couldn’t tell El that I love her.” - simple as that. Must be something about Will that has him holding his tongue because after S3 I doubt he’d have that much trouble telling Lucas.

Are you embarrassed? If you thought it wasn’t that serious you wouldn’t have told Will that it was something you “can’t come back from”. Is love serious to you, Mike? Because you can’t love El in the way she wants, do you think you’re incapable of it? Do you feel wrong? Do you not want Will to know?

Hit a little too close to home, huh.

(and let’s not get into the "team, friends, best friends" scene they had together like what was the point in having them make contact a SECOND time.

They already established a connection between them. Mike could’ve asked to be a team after the "guess it's gonna be up to us again," and Will could’ve taken the painting offscreen (the focus shot of Will grabbing the painting gets me so bad like WHY), but instead they wanted them to blush and giggle over each other AGAIN before they got to the van.

Make it make non-Byler sense I'm begging.)

You’d think that’d be good enough, but Mike still feels conflicted and has to make it Will’s problem (actually, Will kinda made it his problem. The way they shot the triple take makes it seem like Will dragged Mike away for another talk because of how spacey he was being. Who knows.)

Tf do you mean you didn’t know what to say? “Maybe if I said that thing” so you DO know? It’s painfully cut and dry if you take emotions out of it. El wants Mike to say that he loves her, so to fix this, to come back from that fight, Mike has to say he loves her.

Why is it such an internal battle for him? If I were to take it at face value, I’d chalk it up to what he said in the van scene.

So your solution is to push your relationship to a point that has El crying and throwing all the loveless letters you sent to the floor? To tell her that she’s incredible and a superhero and that she should know how you feel about her because, despite the tears streaming down her face and her DIRECTLY asking you if you still love her, she must know how amazing she is too?

NEWSFLASH, Queerler! She’s learning just how much she doesn’t need you right now, so I guess it’s time to face your fears!

This isn’t what I meant, but go off ig (don’t, actually, this is awful for everyone involved).

No way you expect El to buy this. You’ve expressed this fear of "losing El" to Will, I’ll give you that, but nothing you’ve done IN FRONT OF EL has conveyed this. Your letters weren’t helping, and you being there in person only made it worse.

Eagerly awaiting the day Michael Wheeler stops lying.

Well, I guess he doesn’t lie ALL the time.

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: language, violence, oral (male receiving)

Chapter Word Count: 5306

—-MDNI—-

A/N: kind of an odd chapter tbh, there was a few things that I wanted to write so it felt best to squeeze them all in together. I want to start getting into the romance side of things with Dean, so I guess that starts here. Also I’ve been away sick so I’ve added a bit of spiciness.

New readers start here: Prologue

Previous Chapter: Chapter 13

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 14

I grasped the hanger off the rail and slung the pair of flared jeans over my arm to join the other items I was purchasing. Dean had been kind enough to give me a hundred bucks in cash - God knows where from - to get myself whatever I needed whilst he and Sam sauntered off to the menswear stores. As I browsed, lifting a crocheted crop top up before scrunching my nose at the thought of how little it would cover, the bell to the store jingled as someone else walked in. I heard footsteps slowly pace down the short aisle I was in, and as I placed the top back on the rail, I almost jumped out of my skin as someone started talking.

“Oh hey, it's (Y/n) right? You're bunking with the Winchester boys?”

I snapped my head up at the female voice, not expecting anyone out here but Sam and Dean to know my name. My eyes met a pair of warm brown ones, faint crows feet in the corners from years of joy and smiles. I recognised her; she was the short haired woman in the bunker kitchen the night we got back from the strip club.

“Uuhhhh ye- yes! You know Sam and Dean?” My expression was clearly confused as she grinned and held out her hand.

“The names Jody Mills. I've known the boys for a while now - through hunting. It's a pleasure to meet you at last - I've heard great things about you,” I juggled the clothing in my arms and grasped her outstretched hand, giving it a firm shake. She seemed to grin at that.

“Oh, they talk about me? I had no idea,” I suddenly felt a little nervous, the knowledge that I've been the topic of conversations unbeknownst to myself made me sweat a little. Jody seemed to notice this.

“They've only had great things to say, so don't panic! Especially that boy Dean. Not sure how you've done it chick but you really got that wild card wrapped around your little finger,” she raised her eyebrows almost suggestively and I felt heat start to prickle my skin.

“Wh-what? No no no, he's not-” I watched as her head tilted in my direction, eyebrows still raised as a slight grin tugged on her lips. “Have I really?”

She hummed and nodded her head, starting to flick through the clothing rail that I'd been looking at before.

“I've known that boy a few years now, and I've never seen him run to anyone the way he ran to you that night you appeared in the kitchen, looking like a kicked kitten,” she smiled softly and squeezed my arm, “you're something special to him honey, so try not to break his heart.”

“Oh,” was all I managed to say, with what I can imagine was the dumbest look on my face as I felt myself getting redder by the second. A phone ringing suddenly pulled me from my dazed thoughts as Jody reached into her pocket and answered the call. She spoke in a sterner tone than what she'd used with me, and after a few words were exchanged she hung up and returned the device to her pocket.

“I've gotta get going, but I'll try and catch you all again later. I'm in the area for a bit so I'll try and pop by. It was lovely to meet you (Y/n),” she squeezed my arm one last time before turning to leave, the bell on the door signalling her departure. I stood for a moment, my mind spinning from what she'd said about Dean. There was absolutely no way that what she'd said was true. I mean, I beat the crap out of him when we first met, and we've bickered a lot. I guess we've not argued for a good few days. And we've had sex. Oh the sex. I bit my lip as thoughts of us tangled in his sheets came to mind. Not just thoughts, but memories. Like I said to him this morning, we're just fuck buddies. Right?

*

Leaving the store with two large paper bags in one hand and my phone in the other, I first dialled Sam to find out where he was down this stretch of high street. When it went to voicemail, I hung up and dialled Deans number instead. It rang and rang, and when I thought his was going to ring through as well, he finally answered.

“Hey sweetheart, what's up?”

“Hey, I'm finished getting what I need. Whereabouts are you?”

“Uhhh…” I heard him turn to the shop assistant and ask for the name of the store he was in before he relayed it to me.

“Cool, I'll be there in two minutes. See you soon.”

“See ya.”

And with a click I hung up and tucked my phone into my back pocket and walked no more than two hundred yards to get to where he was still trying on boots. As I gingerly walked in, well aware it was a men's store and I was currently the only woman in here, Deans head snapped to the door when the arrival bell jingled.

“Hey sweetheart, you're just in time! I have no idea what to get.”

I couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the thought of the great Dean Winchester getting stumped by the more domesticated side of life.

“Well I'm here to help,” I placed my bags on the bench next to his discarded jacket. “What are the options?”

We must've spent half an hour going over the ones he'd shortlisted, then he chose an entirely different pair anyway, unrelated to the ones he'd picked out for himself.

Leaving the store and a quick phone call between the brothers, we all concluded that now was the best time to stop for lunch. Dean and I made a quick trip back to Baby to drop off our bags, with Dean opting to sport his brand new boots in favour of his old and decrepit ones. It was a short walk back to the high street now that we were bag free, and I could see Sam a mile off - his tall frame loitering outside the chosen diner, the occasional woman walking past throwing a few looks his way. He, of course, was oblivious to those looks, and when he spotted us as we neared he offered a wave. He sprouted a wide, friendly grin as we came to stand next to him.

“You guys get everything you need?”

“Yep! Took Cinderella a while to find the right boots but we got there in the end,” I flashed Dean a playful smirk as he tilted his head in slight annoyance at the nickname, which pulled a light hearted laugh from Sam.

“Oh yeah? Well, at least I didn’t spend twenty bucks on a thrifted Carhartt hoodie.”

“Hey that is durable shit, it’s worth every penny.”

“You could've had one of mine, I don't wear hoodies much anymore.”

“I somehow feel like there'd be a catch with that.”

“Uuhh, I got my jacket, if anyone cares?” Sam decided to interject, and we both turned to look at him.

“Good for you Sammy.”

“Yeah, nice one Sam,” I looked around for a second, not seeing any bags, “where is it?”

He gave me a funny look.

“What?”

“Seriously?” He asked, looking between Dean and myself. I looked at the older Winchester and seemed to have the same questions I did.

“Guys, I’m wearing it. Did you seriously not notice?”

I bit my lip.

“It looks exactly the same,” Dean spoke my own thoughts out loud.

“Well I mean technically it is. But it's not all scuffed up. Look you can clearly tell it's new,” he gestured with his hands that were still in his pockets, flapping the jacket around like he was an elongated flying squirrel.

“Not really.”

“Nope,” Dean popped the ‘p’ before he walked past both of us, “come on guys I'm starving, can we just go in?”

*

A simple lunch in the diner turned into beers in the bar which somehow turned into karaoke followed by shots. The place was bustling - all tables and booths occupied and a permanent flow of people ordering drinks. Most of the guys were of similar tastes, donning boots and leather jackets whilst the few women that were there pranced around in short-shorts and low cut tops. I for one felt a little out of place. The three of us were lucky to snag a booth, albeit close to the small stage situated up front, and I’d tucked myself into the corner, cradling my rum and coke. Dean had left his jacket beside me whilst he’d ventured off to challenge a group of guys to a ‘friendly’ game of pool, his laugh occasionally flowing over the chatter and music towards where Sam and I were sitting.

“How long do you think it’ll be until they realise they’re being conned?” I quizzed, taking a gulp from my glass and letting the bubbles fizz on my tongue before swallowing. Sam chuckled, taking a second before answering.

“Uhhh I don’t think these guys will find out until tomorrow morning.” We both laughed, knowing full well that Dean will spend all night gloating about how great he is, how we should bow in respect of the swindle master. I was lost in thought for a moment, wondering how much money he would actually walk away with when Sam’s voice pulled me back to reality.

“(Y/n), can I ask you something?”

I took another gulp of my drink, knowing full well what that puppy-dog look in Sam’s eyes meant, that furrow in his brow only accentuating it.

“Sure, go ahead.”

He took a breath.

“Are you ok? Like, really ok? Because if I’m honest, if I saw someone who I thought was dead - that I used to be in love with - stand before me after years of believing I’d never see them again; I don’t think I would be ok.”

I fiddled with the hem of Deans shirt sleeve for a second, my brain swarming with every thought I’ve been avoiding since the other night and keeping every little buzz under lock and key. I hated to admit it, but I was afraid to open Pandora’s box for the fear of ice cold confrontation. It wasn’t the wisest option, but putting the skeletons back in their closet and throwing out the key was what I genuinely thought was best. I let out an emotionally exhausted sigh before slumping back in my seat.

“I’m not ok. It still feels like some sort of fucked up fever dream, but… but thinking about it isn’t going to make me feel any better. Talking about someone who’s been dead to me for years isn’t going to take this messed up feeling away. In my mind, there’s nothing to get over where he’s concerned. Yeah, he was my teenage sweetheart, but I’m a grown woman now with a whole new brain and a whole new heart,” I could’ve kicked myself for letting my eyes flick over to Dean.

Sam sighed, resting his elbows on the table, a small smile twitching on his lips.

“If you’re sure, because you know I’m always here if you want to talk.”

“I know, thanks Sam,” I gave him a soft smile, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “Although, just one thing…”

“What’s that?” He sat up straighter.

“I don’t think it’s Daniel as a person that has me feeling like this - I grieved him and moved on from him years ago. I think… I think it’s the thought of that soul crushing sorrow coming back that scares me the most. The kind of sorrow that makes you forget what day it is; that stops you from eating and going outside and taking care of yourself. It makes you lose friends and interest in hobbies. It makes the whole world look grey and lifeless. You feel so unbearably numb that you aren’t even sure why you’re alive anymore. It makes you want to die.”

“(Y/n)…” Sam seemed at a loss for any other words as he held my hand softly across the table, running his thumb gently over my knuckles. I took a deep breath before carrying on.

“I felt like that when I lost Daniel, but when I lost Bobby, I… I…” I felt my voice crack slightly, “when I lost Bobby it was so much worse, I genuinely never thought I’d be normal ever again. Luckily for me, Charlie found me,” I grinned, remembering her determination to piece me back together. I looked up from where our hands joined, meeting Sam’s gaze.

“The only way I’d go through any of that again would be if I was to lose you guys. I know it’s not been long, but for once I’ve found something that makes me want to get out of bed in the mornings. That shit is hard to find.”

We both took a moment, feeling the weight of my words as we shared a gaze. I knew from the way his brows drew together and that far away look in his eyes that he felt everything I’d said. He’d experienced it first hand. And he knew that he didn’t have to say much, if anything, to convey that he understood. Slowly pulling my hand out from under his and placing my palm over his knuckles, I gave a gentle squeeze before standing, letting him go and grasping my glass. I threw the last mouthful back, the liquid vigorously fizzing down my throat before warming my chest. As I swallowed, I held my glass up and raised an eyebrow at Sam.

“Well shit, would you look at that - my glass is empty. Guess I’m heading to the bar. You need a top up?”

“Yeah, please. Remind me to get the next round,” he grinned as I slid out the booth and headed towards the bar. As I waded through the crowd I passed the pool table, glancing over at Dean who was deeply engrossed in taking a player's hard earned money out of his grasp. I watched the smug grin spread over his lips as he counted then pocketed the cash.

I looked up to see an opening at the bar so I squeezed in, perching myself on a stale beer-scented barstool whilst I waited for the barman to notice me. After a couple of minutes of being served he placed the drinks before me and I paid on one of Deans ‘special’ credit cards, scooping all three glasses into my grasp - with an insane amount of skill - and turned to leave. The moment my ass left the seat cushion however I found myself toe-to-toe with a very tall and very rugged stranger, the smell of cigarettes and old leather wafting around him.

“Not seen you around these parts before doll; I know I’d recognise such a pretty face,” he had a grim smirk on his face and his voice was like sandpaper - rough but certainly not sexy. I tried to take a step back but only ended up seated back on the barstool.

“Just passing through,” I did my best to flash a polite smile in the hopes he would sense I didn’t want to have this conversation. No such luck.

“A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be in a place like this all alone. Things might…happen.”

A shudder ascended my spine into my neck and I tried my best to subtly shake it out before I gave into my more defensive side.

“Who the fuck do you think I am with this many drinks? They’re clearly not all mine… ergo, I have company.”

His gross grin widened, the subject of my statement clearly not settling correctly in the empty space between his ears.

“Getting feisty… I like it. Can’t get much better than a little thing with a mouth.”

I shuddered again.

“What part of ‘I have company’ do you not fucking understand? And even if I was alone, I definitely wouldn’t be going anywhere with you.”

His grimy smirk faltered slightly, finally absorbing some of my words that seemed to be floating in the air around his thick skull.

“Aw don’t be like that.”

“Oh I’m gonna ‘be like that’ until you leave me the fuck alone.”

He took a lumbering step forwards, pushing me further onto the barstool.

“See now there’s a point when a mouth on a pretty thing becomes down right obnoxious, and you’re nearing that point sweetheart.”

“Don’t you fucking ‘sweetheart’ me you dick,” I was mentally preparing to buy another round of drinks as the thought of throwing these three at this asshole was becoming sweeter by the second, and people were starting to watch on but there wasn’t a single white knight in sight.

“Well now you’ve just crossed that line,” the second I saw him start to raise his arms my instincts kicked in and I gave into my previous thought and doused him in liquor, the amber liquid running down his face and neck and soaking into his clothes. He looked down at himself in disbelief before lifting his head back up, this time baring his teeth and raising his hand as if to slap me. I reflexively raised my arms and squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for impact.

“You stupid bitch.”

“If you touch a hair on her goddamn head ‘imma put you six feet under.”

My eyes shot open and I lowered my hands to see a seething Dean Winchester, a single strong hand wrapped around my harasser's wrist.

“Who the fuck are you?”

The faintest smirk pulled at the corner of Deans mouth before disappearing as quickly as it appeared, leaving nothing but quiet rage burning across his features.

“I’m about to be your biggest fucking problem.”

Before the asshole could even react Deans hand went from twelve O’clock to six O’clock in half a second with a sickening snap, breaking the jerks elbow with deadly skill. Practised skill. Whilst my harasser cried out and cradled his limp arm, Dean let go of him before a few of the onlookers gave Dean a nod of approval before escorting the creep out. Once he knew he was out of the building, Dean turned to me, softly grasping my chin between his thumb and index finger.

“Are you ok? He didn’t hurt you, did he?” He tilted my face left and right, scrutinising over my unharmed skin. When he was sure that there wasn’t a scratch on me he let go, relief flooding his gaze as he sighed.

“Dean I’m fine, I promise,” I reached up, fingers hesitantly grazing his stubbled cheek before I thought better of it and dropped my hand to his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“I swear to God (Y/n), if he’d laid a finger on you he’d get a lot more than a busted elbow,” his hand came to rest on my bicep, his long fingers gently wrapping around my arm in subconscious comfort, almost pulling me towards him. My own hand seemed to slide down from his shoulder to rest softly on his chest, my fingertips feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath.

“I know,” I reassured, giving him a little smile to which he returned. I felt my soft smile turn mischievous as thoughts started conjuring in my mind.

“Come on, Sam is waiting for another drink, let's order and get back to the table.”

The bartender had seen Dean step in to help me, so luckily for us this round was on the house. As we slid into the booth opposite Sam I slid his drink over to him.

“What happened back there?” He asked, mildly concerned.

“Just some asshole thinking I was gonna leave this place with him,” I sighed, sitting down, Dean taking his seat beside me. Sam's eyes flicked between the two of us.

“I'm sure I saw him leave with his arm all out of shape, was that-”

“Yeah well, shrimp-dick had it coming,” Dean was doing his best to act nonchalant, however the moment our eyes met over the top of our drinks we couldn't stop the giggles from tumbling out.

“Guys, Dean, you can't go around breaking elbows-”

“Relax Sammy. No one's gonna say anything, they all saw him acting like a creep. Just didn't have the balls to step in. Anyway,” a darker look clouded his eyes as his gaze bore into his younger brother, “he was harassing our girl, Sam. Ain't no way in Hell I was gonna let that slide.”

There was a moment of thick silence before Sam nodded, finally agreeing with Deans actions, knowing that if it had come down to it, he might've done the same. I raised my glass to my lips, taking a long sip before placing it back on the table, looking between the boys as they continued to have some sort of silent conversation that I wasn't a part of. The mischievous thoughts from earlier kept bubbling in my mind, and it didn't take any self-convincing for me to act on them. I shuffled slightly closer to Dean, not enough to draw attention to myself but enough to be in touching distance. I glanced up at him, making sure he was totally unaware and focused on his drink before I reached out slowly, letting my soft fingertips glide over the rough denim of his jeans. I glanced up at him when I heard him inhale his drink, spluttering slightly as I squeezed the inside of his thigh. I traced the length of his inseam, watching his grip on his glass tighten, the tanned skin over his knuckles paling.

“You ok there?” I asked, feigning concern with a quirk of a brow.

“Oh I'm just peachy sweetheart,” his voice came out low, lower than I think he was expecting it to as his eyes nervously darted to Sam who was too busy opening his laptop to notice. Dean leant back on the bench, the worn leather creaking under his weight. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, pausing for a moment before lifting his arm closest to me, as though inviting me to sit closer. Eager to oblige I scooted towards him, nibbling my bottom lip when I felt his large hand rest softly on my back, subconsciously pulling me in. I crossed one leg over the other, turning into him slightly, tilting my head to get a better look at his face.

“I think I left something in the car, would you mind coming with me whilst I grab it?”

He looked a little puzzled for a moment before shotting the last of his whiskey and nodding his head.

“Sure thing,” he turned to his brother, “hey Sammy, we’ll be back in a few.”

Sam grunted a reply, too lost in the article he was reading to pay much attention to us. Dean slid out of the booth and held his hand out to me, which I grasped. His long rough fingers enveloped my hand as he pulled me to my feet. Leaving his jacket behind, we left the bar and made our way to the impala.

The night air had turned chilly, biting at my flushed cheeks as we paced across the lot, taking all of about thirty seconds to reach the impala. Dean was a few steps ahead of me, having unlocked the rear passenger door by the time I'd arrived.

“There you are, grab what you ne- whoa!”

He was caught off guard when I placed my hands on his chest and pushed him down into the car, his broad form filling the space in the back with ease. I climbed in after him, closing the door and crawling along the back bench towards him. It took a moment, but Dean eventually caught on.

“Oh, I’m liking where this is going.”

I chewed at my bottom lip, watching him settle beneath me as he propped up slightly on his elbows, the fabric of his T-shirt stretching thin over his muscular chest.

“I wanted to thank you for being my hero. That’s the second time you’ve rescued me - I wanted to thank you properly. You know, to really show my appreciation.”

It was Deans turn to pull his bottom lip between his teeth, the corners of his plush lips turning up.

“You know, I’m starting to think you might be trouble,” his voice was getting lower with every word, each syllable rumbling in his chest and vibrating into my fingertips.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at his words, feeling some truth to them as I scooted down the bench to sit between his legs before slipping into the large footwell. I patted the seat in front of me, and it didn’t even take a second for Dean to slide himself into it, sitting up straight. As I sat between his knees and looked up at him, I couldn’t help but marvel at the sight; the way the streetlights painted his face in warm amber, softening his battle-hardened features and reflecting in his eyes like dancing embers from a stoked fire. The shadows didn’t seem contradictory - the darkness we were sitting in was far from cold. Dean Winchester was not an artistic man by any means, but he himself was certainly a masterpiece.

I reached up and unbuckled his belt along with the button on his jeans, carefully dragging the zipper down after and tugging the thick fabric along with his boxers off his hips; just enough to dip my hand in and pull out his cock, already hot and heavy in my palm. He made an almost strained noise on contact and my stomach fluttered at the thought of him being so sensitive. So sensitive at my mercy. I adjusted my grip on him before going up and down, once… twice… three times… over and over at a sinfully slow pace. His hands gripped his thighs like they had nowhere else to go, and when I looked up he was watching every move I was making with knotted brows and parted lips. His eyes only found mine when I straightened my back and leant forwards, gliding my tongue up the thick length of him but avoiding the tip. Mimicking my hand, I licked up and down again and again, ever so slowly gaining speed before I finally dragged my tongue over his tip and plunged his whole cock down my throat.

“Oh fuck,” Dean gasped out, his large palms flying to my hair - long fingers knotting with the soft strands. I could tell he wanted nothing more than to shove my head down as far as it would go, but his self restraint shone through. I started to move, slowly at first, head bobbing without missing a beat. The feeling of his cock pressing against the back of my throat over and over was fine at first, but the longer I sucked him off the urge to gag grew. The size of Deans cock was not something to be taken lightly, and after a couple of minutes the impending gag hit and I pulled him out of my mouth.

“Shit, (Y/n)… How are you so good at this?” He hissed out in a breath I’m sure he’d been holding since I'd started. I assumed the question was rhetorical as I gave him a few pumps, swallowing the excess spit and precum on my tongue before leaning back in. One by one I placed hot, wet kisses up his length, placing the final one on his tip before I pulled it back into my mouth. With the new found sensitivity of my gag reflex ever-present, I avoided taking him too far down my throat, this time using one hand to reach where my mouth couldn't at his base. Adding a little twist, I felt his grip tighten once again in my hair, his long fingers absently scooping loose strands away from my face. The combination of feeling him lose his mind beneath me and the tenderness of his touch sent a flutter to my heart which quickly travelled south at the sound of his euphoric groan, his head lolling back and eyes closing. As I pressed my tongue to the large vein scaling his length I could feel his rapid pulse, my own heart rate almost as fast as his. As I continued to bob my head, I could feel him gather all my hair in one hand, his other softy tracing down over my temple, my cheek and my lips before stopping at my chin, a single swipe from his thumb removing most if the spit and precum that was threatening to stream down my neck. I would consider my next move a grave mistake - looking up through my damp lashes to meet Deans white-hot gaze fixated and fascinated with every little motion I made. The blissed-out look in his eyes could have turned a weaker woman into a puddle right then and there, and I surprised myself with my own resilience. He continued to hold me with one hand in my hair and a soft grip on my chin, my own free hand moving to grip him near the inside of his thigh. Another soft moan slipped from his lips as I started to speed up, not caring for the ache in my jaw or mess he was now too preoccupied to swipe away. I was surprised when no words left Deans lips, his usual blasphemous language replaced with velvety moans of pleasure. I could tell he was nearing his peak when his cock twitched between my lips, again and again before before he finally groaned out a strained:

“Fuck, oh shit.”

His grip tightened, like he was trying to pull me off him, however when that telltale throb made his cock graze the back of my throat I removed my hand from his base and enveloped him in his entirety, a final, breathy gasp and groan tumbling from Deans lips before the sensation of warm, viscous liquid spilled across the back of my tongue. It took a moment for the ropes to stop coming, and when they did I pulled him from my mouth slowly, looking up at his breathless form. Not taking my eyes from his, I parted my lips slightly to show his cum, glazing my tongue, before closing my mouth and swallowing the thick liquid down. He let out another groan, his grip finally releasing my hair as he ran his hands over his face, taking a moment for his eyes to find mine again.

“Holy shit, sweetheart… I feel like I just died and went to heaven.”

I couldn't stop the stupid giggle spilling from my lips as I wiped the spit from my lips and chin with the bottom of Deans shirt that I was wearing.

“For a moment there I thought you had too.”

He grinned down at me, perhaps a little bashful as he tucked himself back into his pants and refastened his belt. As he finished up, a few moments of silence hung over us as I still remained nestled between his strong thighs. His eyes met mine and they seemed to hold a thousand words that he wanted to say, and when nothing came from his lips he simply held out his hand to pull me into his lap. Just as my fingers grazed his, however, there was a loud rap at the window which spooked both of us out of our skin.

“Motherfucker,” Dean muttered before rolling down the window, and a small wave of guilt and embarrassment washed over me when I heard Sam's disbelieving yet humoured voice coming from outside.

“Guys are you fucking serious?!”

——————————————————————

@suckitands33 @jackles010378 @aliceeinwonderland420 @tina-theslytherin @deans-queen @hobby27 @sobearcowboy @girls-alias @selfdestructionandrhum @ericasabe @lacilou @littlemadamred @anneanirac @deans-baby-momma @swimregulas @ashdoctor @littlemarvelstan8 @atcamillanorrman @deangirl96 @zannemes @kr804573 @foxyjwls007 @divadinag @cookiemonstermusic258 @mysterialee @ababy-girl @joonseuph0ria @mxltifxnd0m @deans-spinster-witch @st4bl3-ch40s @feyresqueen @roseblue373 @clusterfuck-meup @urinternetmom @rachiem4-blog @ceeshellecee @mojos-hidden-castle @snowayumi @evzyi @mymuseisbipolar @magssteenkamp @koharuheartfilia @spookyysinsanity @safiyas-world @uncle-eggy @happyt0exist @supernaturalstilinski @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mrsjenniferwinchester

[simplyraeblue]

King and Captive

(Hunter and Hunted Spin-Off) read here

a chance meeting with Sukuna quickly turns into a nightly routine you can't escape. as the lines between game and something more blur, you start to wonder—how long can you keep playing, or will Sukuna make you his next conquest? !Sukuna x !femreader

chapter warnings/tags: swearing, drinking, use of "princess", not much of anything this part tbh. eventual smut warning tho of course ( • ᴗ - ) A/N: THE SPIN OFF IS FINALLY HERE! of course, because I'm obsessive I've already written 3 full parts... I suck at writing beginnings though, so bear with me as things are a lil slow in my opinion! I hope you all enjoy it as much as you enjoyed Hunter and Hunted; and be prepared for MORE smut cause its SUKUNA OF COURSE.

index part one | part two

part one word count: 2,762

Christmas had come and gone, and you had stepped into the new year with an even angrier outlook on life than you’d had before. sure, last year had been rough; you’d been cheated on and promptly dumped for someone else, and the bittersweet icing on the cake was when you found out your ex had gotten engaged over the holiday season. you’d done what any sane person would do – drank away your feelings.

the past few weeks, your friends could often find you at the bottom of a mug, angry eyes watching as you toyed with the coaster at any bar you’d walked into. you need – no, wanted – vengeance. you imagined the look on your ex’s face if you ran into him with another, maybe hotter, guy on your arm. men these days were only looking to get their dicks wet, how hard could it be to snag one?

you came to realize it was incredibly hard.

any man that gave you the time of day seemed to be scraping the bottom of the barrel, consistently sleezy and looking like they hadn’t showered in days. or worse, still lived in their mother’s basement. the men you worked with were no better. constantly watching your ass as you walked by, attempting to slyly cop a feel in the break room, and so on.

so, here you were, walking down the street to a pub around the corner from your job to grab a drink. you had a one-track mind for this sort of thing, oblivious to your surroundings until two men stepped into your path to stop you.

“excuse me.” you muttered as you took a step to the side, trying to go around them. before you could get back to your mission one of their hands reached out and snagged your wrist. ugh, more disgusting pigs. “I’ll ask you once to kindly let go off me.”

“c’mon pretty, we just wanna talk t’ ya.” the bigger, burlier one gave you a sly grin that made your skin crawl.

“yea, walking around with a skirt that short we couldn’t help but notice ya.” the one holding your wrist tightened his grip slightly. your frown stretched down your face as you took a moment to assess the situation. what was it your friends always said? right – be loud, draw attention, scream fire and whatnot.

“oi, get your fucking hands off me!” you shouted, tugging your wrist against the firm hold.

“what do ya expect when ya dress like a whore?” one of them snapped as they stepped closer. you were only dressed for work; skirt that came down mid-thigh, button up blouse that covered every inch of your skin, so how was this outfit whorish?

“she’s got a mouth on her, huh?” they nudged each other as you struggled to get free. with your free hand, you made a fist and pulled it back. you wouldn’t be able to seriously injure them, that was for sure, but you could at least distract and get away.

“I said leave me the hell alone, twatbags!” you shouted, fist shaking but staying firm in a pulled-back position. if they made one more move, you’d muster up the courage and hit one of them.

suddenly, both men went wide-eyed in front of you and your wrist was released from it’s prison. hah, so my scare tactics worked, you thought. you’d have to pat yourself on the back later for this achievement. “aw, little ole me got you boys scared? looks like you’re about to wet your pants.” you smirked, crossing your arms in triumph.

until their eyes traveled from you, to over your head.

“these guys bothering you?”

your body tensed at the deep, baritone voice from behind you. so that’s what had the men backing off – but that scared? whoever was behind you had to be huge, like a wrestler or something. you imagine big, bulging muscles and a towering figure, and you gulped.

“I believe she asked you to leave her alone.” whoever was behind you continued, and with each word you almost shivered. his voice exuded strength, even something like anger laced in his tone. or was it just annoyance? “oh, forgot to add the twatbags part. that was a good descriptor.”

the two men stepped back and the other man stepped forward, now standing slightly in front of you. you dared to scan his figure – not a body builder, but definitely not small. he wore a black compression tee that showed off his muscles, and you could see the tattoos running all across his skin, intertwined and connected everywhere you looked. your eyes caught on his light pink hair, slicked back but disheveled on the sides as if he’d been running a hand through the strands.

“while I’d love the entertainment of watching her take a swing at you, I don’t think you want to see what happens if you retaliated.” the man merely crossed his arms before looking down at you. he did in fact tower, maybe just over you but he was still above average height. something flickered in his eyes as they met yours, and you could only stare at him speechlessly.

he hadn’t even had to do anything before the men scoffed and walked away, albeit hurriedly like a fire had been lit under their asses. you and the man watched as they scurried down the sidewalk, and you finally let out a sigh when they disappeared from sight.

“thanks for that. although I’m pretty sure I had it covered.” you felt him look at you as you watched the distance – double checking that they were in fact gone before you left the protection of the stranger.

he chuckled lowly as he shook his head. “looks like you did. but, I thought I’d provide backup just in case.”

but before he could continue, you were already walking away in the opposite direction of the two men. all you had wanted was a damn drink, and by god you were going to get one.

you could hear the faint echo of footsteps behind you, but you tried to push it out of your mind, focusing instead on the door to the bar in front of you. with a swift motion, you yanked it open, stepping inside and hoping to lose the stranger following you.

but when you heard those same footsteps following you in, your patience snapped. you turned around, irritation bubbling to the surface. “are you following me?” you demanded, locking eyes with the man who had been trailing behind you. “do I need to be worried about you too?”

he just chuckled, his casual demeanor only adding to your annoyance. “do you think I owe you something now?” you shot back, trying to keep your tone serious, though it was clear he didn’t take you seriously at all.

his laughter echoed in the small space; a mocking sound that only made your frustration grow. “actually,” he said, his voice steady, “I came back to finish the beer I left to save your ass.” he gestured nonchalantly at a knocked-over bar stool and the half-empty drink sitting nearby, the remnants of the drink he’d been enjoying before the whole mess began.

the heat of embarrassment crept up your neck as you processed his words. “oh.” you mumbled, feeling the awkwardness seep into your skin. "sorry. considering the kind of men I’ve just dealt with, I didn’t know if you were some sleazeball too.”

he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “sleazeball? you sound like my little brother,” he said with a smirk, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

you couldn't help but throw a jab back. “then he has good taste in vocabulary.”

the man’s grin only grew wider, clearly amused by the bite in your tone. his eyes glinted with something like genuine entertainment as he took a step closer. “my name’s Ryomen Sukuna, by the way,” he said, his voice dripping with casual confidence.

you narrowed your eyes, studying him with suspicion. there was something about the way he carried himself that set your nerves on edge. “I don’t know if I’m comfortable giving my full name to a complete stranger,” you replied, your tone a mix of caution and defiance.

Sukuna simply shrugged, as though your response didn’t faze him in the least. “but I just introduced myself, after acting as your knight in shining armor, I might add.” he gave a lazy stretch, his posture relaxed as he leaned against the bar, his gaze fixed on you as if daring you to challenge him further.

you didn’t back down. “that doesn’t mean I know you now,” you said, your eyes still narrowed. you turned away from him, flagging down the bartender who had just started to clean the counter. “a drink. whiskey, neat,” you said, your voice firm as you slid a few bills across the bar.

normally, you wouldn’t dare drink hard liquor on a weekday at five o’clock, but goddamn you needed it now. your nerves were on edge, but a stronger feeling had settled within you since the start of this particular conversation.

he was unbelievably attractive. pierced ears, tattooed skin, and a smile reminiscent of the devil across his lips. so so not your usual type. but then again, your type had cheated on you. Sukuna’s presence was almost overwhelming – strength, confidence or cockiness – the air stilled around him like it was intruding his space.

Sukuna watched you with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “then get to know me,” he said, his voice low and almost coaxing, as if the idea of you refusing was an amusing thought to him.

you didn’t hesitate in your response. “buy me a drink and I’ll consider it,” you shot back, your tone playful but laced with a challenge. you’d be damned if you’d make it that easy for him, knowing all to well the type of men that seem to flirt with you always turn out to be disgusting.

he raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your boldness, but said nothing as the bartender set your drink down in front of you. it was clear you weren’t going to make things easy for him, but that only seemed to fuel his curiosity.

you were already fascinating him. from Sukuna’s first look at you, ready to stand your ground against two grown men, to now acting defiant against him even as he could see the tension in your shoulders with every sentence you spoke. were you feigning confidence or was it real? he liked the way you talked back to him; it made the conversation more entertaining, and he eased into it with pleasure.

Sukuna’s eyes never left you as you took your drink from the bartender, the smooth amber liquid catching the dim light of the bar. he didn't immediately respond, just leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, a thoughtful expression playing across his features. for a moment, you wondered if he was going to let the challenge slide.

then, to your surprise, he pushed off the bar with a slow, deliberate movement and took a step toward you. his presence felt heavier now, more intense. heat rolled off of him and over you, his cologne drowned your senses. “a drink, huh?” he mused, his voice taking on a playful edge, like he was toying with you. “that’s all it takes to get you to talk to me?”

you took a sip of your whiskey, cringing at the burn as you met his gaze head-on. “depends on the drink,” you replied, the hint of a smirk curling at your lips. you had no intention of giving in that quickly, not when he still felt like a puzzle you weren’t sure you wanted to solve.

Sukuna chuckled softly, the sound deep and almost predatory, like he was enjoying the chase. “I think I can handle that,” he said, raising a hand to signal the bartender. his attention briefly shifted to the man behind the counter, but when it returned to you, his expression had softened, just a fraction, though the amusement never fully left his eyes. “is whiskey your usual, then?” he asked, his tone suddenly more casual, almost conversational.

you tilted your head, considering him for a moment. “I’m not sure it’s the drink I’m worried about,” you said, leaning in just slightly, your voice quieter now. “it’s the company.”

he gave you a look that said he wasn’t fazed by your words, not in the slightest. "trust me," he replied smoothly, "I’m better company than most people you'd find in this place."

he wasn't wrong. there was something undeniably magnetic about him, an energy that drew you in despite your better judgment. you could sense there was more to him than what he was showing, and a part of you couldn’t help but wonder what he was really after.

the bartender placed a fresh drink in front of Sukuna — a glass of something darker, likely whiskey as well, and more expensive than the one you had just ordered. Sukuna didn’t touch it immediately, instead shifting his stance so he was fully facing you, his eyes now narrowing just slightly, as if sizing you up. like you were a snack he wanted to take a bite out of.

"alright, I’ll bite," he said, his voice a low murmur as he watched you closely. “what’s your story?”

you took another sip of your drink, your gaze never leaving his. “maybe I’ll tell you,” you said slowly, deliberately, “but it’s going to cost you more than just a drink.”

Sukuna’s lips curled into another half-smile, his confidence never wavering. “I’m up for the challenge. what’s the price?” his tone had shifted again, all business now, but there was still an edge of that playful intensity behind it.

for the briefest moment, you almost felt like you were playing a game with him, something neither of you had agreed on but that you both instinctively understood. you hesitated, eyes scanning his face for any hint of vulnerability — but there was none.

“get me another round, and we’ll talk,” you finally said, giving him a sly smile that matched the gleam in your eyes.

Sukuna didn’t need another word. he turned away, reaching for the glass, a quiet satisfaction in his movements. he knew the game was far from over, but there was no doubt in his mind that he’d be the one to win it.

you lifted your eyes to meet his, watching him with a mixture of curiosity and caution. he was still an enigma, his expression unreadable, his posture relaxed but with an edge that hinted at something more dangerous beneath.

“you’re a man of few words,” you observed, your voice playful but with an undercurrent of challenge. “or is it that you’re waiting for me to spill my life story?”

he raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your attempt to provoke him. “I’ve got all the time in the world,” he replied smoothly, voice low and even. you could feel his eyes on you, studying you in a way that made you want to pull back, but also something else—a curiosity, maybe even an unspoken challenge.

you took another sip, avoiding his gaze for a moment. “and what’s in it for me?” you asked, your voice steady but carrying a hint of sarcasm. “why should I bother getting to know you?”

Sukuna’s smile deepened, almost like he was savoring the moment. “because,” he said, his voice now tinged with something a little darker, “I’m not just any stranger. and I think you’ll find out, sooner or later, that I’m worth your time.”

his confidence was almost infuriating, but you couldn’t deny that something about him intrigued you. maybe it was his audacity, or maybe it was the mystery that clung to him like a second skin. or possibly, that he could be the hottest man you’d ever laid eyes on. either way, you weren’t ready to walk away just yet.

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” you replied, a small challenge in your voice, but this time, there was a flicker of curiosity in your gaze too.

Sukuna met your challenge with a steady, unwavering stare, his smirk never fading. “then I guess you’ll just have to stick around and find out, won’t you?”

it wasn’t an offer. it wasn’t even a question. it was a promise. and whether you liked it or not, you were beginning to realize that you might just be caught up in his game—whether you wanted to be or not.

it wasn’t an offer, or even a question. it was a damn promise. whether you realized it, you were beginning to get caught up in his game – it was inevitable.

⊹. ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . taglist: @mangiswig @aldebrana @ravester @marie-is-in-the-dark @makingtimemine @sorahatake @osohchoso @csolya I tagged some people that interacted A TON with Hunter and Hunted who I appreciate so so much ; so if you were tagged and would like to be removed just let me know! ♡ I hope this fic is as loved as Hunter and Hunted! . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

[tyunkus]

use me

pairing: mean dom bf!taehyun x f!reader

synopsis: taehyun wants you to beg. maybe he should make you. 

wc: 2.2k

warnings: reader is fem-bodied and also referred to as a girl! established relationship, dirty talk, begging, masturbation, OVERSTIM, cowgirl/riding, you’re both mean to each other in this but he’s meaner U will never beat him, not really hard dom just mean dom, taehyun calls u: baby, angel, pretty girl, he also calls u stupid (sorry), princess Of Course

note: basically a continued? fic version of this ask. i was h word one day and decided that the concept was too sexy to be kept as a thought/drabble so i extended it! hurray! u could think of this within the same universe as amazon wishlist tbh. and also imagine taehyun with his blue hair and sexy arms and sexy face and sexy abs and sexy lips and

You would be lying if you said you didn’t know how you ended up here.

The truth is, you know exactly how this all began—with Taehyun fisting his cock in front of you, moaning like a whore, and you watching him and refusing to beg.

Still, if you were to be completely honest, you don’t know exactly why you were acting like such a brat. The night had been normal leading up to when you two entered the bedroom; Taehyun had cooked you dinner, washed the dishes while you made dessert, picked what show to watch while you sat on his lap on the couch. Maybe it was then that this all truly began, when you began to wriggle too much, just to feel the firmness of his hands on your waist, the swelling of his cock underneath your thighs. And that had led to him dragging you to bed, telling you to ask nicely if you wanted to suck his cock. You didn’t listen. You still won’t.

It had taken him probably about ten minutes of jacking himself off slowly in front of you as “punishment”—pretty hand wrapped around his even prettier cock, hard and lubed up—before he finally realized that his ultimate plan to make you beg was never going to work. Not if you kept staring up at him from where you knelt down next to the bed, looking like some sort of perfect, clueless angel. Like something he could break if he wanted to.

That definitely gave him an idea. And so it started with you on your knees, looking up at him all sweet and perfect, and your stubbornness has led you back on his lap, biting your lip nervously as you try to decipher the look in his eyes beyond carnal hunger. Taehyun gets like this sometimes. And it’s fucking hot.

“You okay, princess?” he asks, running his calloused hands down your thighs. Checking in, as he always does; not only for your sake, but it turns him on knowing you want to get fucked as much as he wants to fuck you. You don’t mention it, though—you don’t say anything at all, just nod, giving him a tight-lipped smile. As bratty and uncaring as you had been acting earlier, seeing Taehyun get himself off had affected you a lot more than you let on. You had felt the wetness seeping between your legs literally seconds after he had gotten his cock out and started fucking his fist. That wasn’t something you could control—however, being all solemn and acting like you didn’t care, that was something you excelled at. “What’s your safeword, baby?”

“Blueberry,” you mumble back, running a hand through his hair, and he graces you with a smile.

Satisfied, he settles hsi back on the bed, reaching an arm behind his head to rest on. “You know what to do, princess,” Taehyun rasps, giving your ass a small pat. You squirm, giving him a look. “C’mon. Ride me.”

“What?”

“If you don’t wanna beg, that’s fine. Just make yourself feel good. Use me. Use this cock to make yourself come,” he tells you lowly. “I know you love it. Don’t pretend like you don’t.”

You make a small noise, miffed, but you obey anyways, grabbing the base of his cock. You make sure to look him in the eye when you slide him in, but a part of you regrets it, because Taehyun truly doesn’t back down, gazing up at you with every second, every inch of his cock that fills you. You can’t even muffle the small moan that you let out after you take him all in, and you certainly can’t hide your blissed out face when you start moving up and down. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to it—how good he feels, how good he looks, staring down at the place at which your bodies connect. You can’t help it, you’re obsessed with his face, the way it scrunches when you clench down on him and smoothes itself out when you slow down your hips. There’s a lot of things you could love about Taehyun, and one of them is how he looks during sex.

Taehyun, to his credit, spends the next ten minutes or so pretty quietly, evidently trying to stick to his own plan of letting you fuck yourself on him. It’s a weird punishment, you must say, not one that you’re really used to, but hey. Taehyun’s already ruined you for anyone else’s cock—it’s not like you’ll complain at the chance to ride him. And he likes it, too; you can tell even if he won’t say anything, from the slight grimaces he makes, the way he tilts his head back whenever you grind back down.

His plan might work. It’s getting harder and harder to pretend like riding him isn’t affecting you. Your legs start to shake. The moans you let out are higher, shakier. You can barely hold yourself up by the time Taehyun finally takes the initiative to grab your hips and help you move against him, grunting out a Got you, baby right as your first orgasm crashes down on you.

“Fuck,” he says, as you slump over and your head meets his chest. He runs the very tips of his fingers up and down your torso, dancing them all about your skin until you’re shaking even more. Goosebumps spring from where he touches you, but he doesn’t stop, smiles at the way you twitch when his hands brush the ticklish spot underneath your tits.

And then his hands still on your waist, and his fingers fasten around them a little tighter, and then he’s moving you up and down by the pure strength of those goddamn arms. Fuck. You must say it out loud, squeaky and accidental, because below you Taehyun lets out a chuckle and then his fingers are on your clit and fuck. Fuck.

“T-Taehyun,” you breathe out, your voice wavering, “I j-just came.”

The steely look he fixes you is enough to shut you up. “And I haven’t, so keep fucking riding me,” he snaps. “You know what to say if you really can’t take it, right?”

You only nod helplessly, moving up and down his cock again, the feeling of him inside you sending a spark of electricity down your spine. Blueberry, blueberry, fuck, it’s too much but you would never say it, not now, when it’s so much that it feels so good. Fuck, there’s no reason it should feel this good. Taehyun twists at your nipples and chuckles when your hips jolt at the sensation—fuck Kang Taehyun and his skillful hands and perfectly composed self. You can’t even think but he’s quite literally pulling at all of your most sensitive parts.

You feel Taehyun’s hips start to grind up into yours. You can tell from that, as well as his fidgeting hands, that he’s starting to get impatient. “Come on, princess, keep going. Thought I was boring you, right? Don’t tap out on me now, baby, be fucking grateful I’m even giving you my cock—”

You shake your head, adamant. “No, no, nonono I can’t I can’t, ’s too much, fuck, Taehyun, Taehyun please—”

“Aw, it’s too much? You begging for me now? Wanna be good for me?” he rasps, smacking your ass. Leave it to Taehyun to say just the right thing to have you squirming, even if he’s technically upset with you. “Fuck, look at you, sweet girl, fucking shaking for me. Keep going. Keep riding my fucking dick, I’m not gonna ask you again.”

You wail, finally lowering your hands from your face to steady them on his shoulders. You move up and down, slowly, trying not to think about the sounds you’re making, the sounds of skin against skin and your wet cunt.

“Be good and make me come. Make me come, you were so mean to me today, this is the least you could do for me—fuck, fuck—”

“How have you not come yet?” you whine, and fuck, you can feel your strength slipping away from where your hands are fastened on his shoulders. Taehyun only lets out a breathy laugh underneath you and lands a soft smack to your butt. “Taehyun, please, I can’t—can’t, I just... Pleeeaaase, please, hmngh, fuck.”

Taehyun’s grip hardens on your hips, and you still. He tugs you down so you’re face to face, and your tummy flutters at his expression—eyes narrowed, lips swollen, fucked out and so fucking hot. “Too much, baby?” he pants, threading his hands through your hair. You nod, moaning and nibbling against his collarbones, and there are a few seconds of this breathless quiet, as you both find your breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly against yours. Eventually, he tugs you away from where you suck on his skin. Gives you a winning smile. You almost forget he’s annoyed with you. “Okay, angel. Too much? All tired out? Fine. Fine. We’ll do it your way.”

You can feel his hips moving underneath you, his cock still inside. “Hyunnie,” you mumble, scrabbling at his chest, but he only grunts. It takes a few moments for him to adjust his position and really dig his heels into the mattress before he’s suddenly fucking up into you with a loud, desperate moan. The pace he sets from the start is staggering; you can barely process the new position before he’s all up in your guts, pounding into you, until you can’t even fucking think.

“S-stupid girl, can’t even ride her poor boyfriend properly, always gotta do everything myself,” he mutters through gritted teeth, eyes transfixed on where his hips slam into yours. “Ff-fuck, don’t you feel sorry for me? Can’t even make me come without getting all dumb ‘n drooly. C’mon, kiss me. Kiss me, princess, make me feel better.”

You mewl and move to oblige, pressing your soft lips all over his face—cheekbones, jawline, nose—but it’s hard to land them properly with how fast he moves underneath you, completely throwing you off-balance. You resort to whimpering while struggling to keep yourself up with your arms, hands still resting on his firm chest. Taehyun doesn’t even care, too busy fucking up into you to notice.

“Say sorry now,” he instructs, his tone still cold and unfeeling. “Say sorry for being mean to your boyfriend, tell me how much you love me.”

“’M sorry, I’m so sorry,” you cry, your lips still latched onto his skin. “I’m sorry for being mean, ’m sorry, you make me feel so good, always mmf, making me come—hnng, love you, I love you, Taehyun—”

“Good job. Good girl, good fucking girl. Fuck. Your pussy’s so—hah, so good, so sweet to me, so perfect—” He smiles wickedly, showing his teeth, and you almost come again just looking at him, his blue hair matted against sweaty, golden skin. “Love this princess cunt, love you. Gonna make me come, love you, I love you, sweet angel, fuck– I love you so much—”

“W-wanna come,” you warble, the feeling so sudden but so intense that all you can think about is how much you need it, regardless of how it was at the back of your mind before. It’s like your brain has caught up to you, all of your pent-up desire crashing back down on you in a landslide. You start begging before you even realize it. “Please, please, pleaseplease Taehyun please Tyunnie pleaseee let me come letmecome—”

You’re breathless, needy, begging like a fucking slut and you know it, but Taehyun—Taehyun has never looked prouder, gazing up at you with his achingly kind eyes, nodding at you slowly, like he wants to make sure you understand. “Gonna come again?” he whispers, lips pressed against the tips of your fingers, and you nod. He hums and smiles, the tip of his tongue peeking out to lick at your thumb. “Good girl, come for me again, princess. Just one more, you can do it, make me proud—fuck, c’mon, I’ll come with you, ffffuck, princess, I love you—”

There’s a brief second between Taehyun’s rambling and both your orgasms—and he chooses that second to twine his fingers with yours and kiss your temple. It’s probably the hardest you’ve come all night, but what really has you reeling isn’t your climax, it’s how Taehyun looks after his own; sweaty, breathing hard, still looking at you. God knows how long he had been holding back. You had half-expected him to black out right after, but no, he’s just gazing at you, like you’re something to be admired even with your face all sweaty and hair a mess.

You lean down to kiss him anyways, regardless of how you look, kissing him more for your own benefit than his—he receives it with his usual eagerness and a quick smile against your teeth, almost missable. He pulls away, letting the both of you breathe for a moment, chests rising and falling against each other’s.

“Princess.” Taehyun presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose and breathes out. “I loooove you,” he murmurs in a sing-song voice, and taps his fingers against the column of your throat. “Did so well, my pretty girl. You feeling okay? Need some water?”

“Water would be great,” you reply, nuzzling in closer to him. “Could you draw me a bath later? Please?” 

“Begging for me now, huh?”

You poke the side of his stomach and he jolts with a harsh laugh. What an ass, you think, kissing his cheek. I love him. “Shut up.”

[batsplat]

top 5 misconceptions ppl have about casey hehe

lol. well. this kind of question is always a bit tricky because tbh I don't really have my finger on the pulse of what people are saying about casey. also often it's less 'misconceptions' and more 'crucial contextual information people aren't particularly interested about', which isn't really in the scope of the question. AND it's hard to draw the line between what I would consider my Takes and what is like. actual established fact. but sure. here's some stuff

honesty: you know the kind of talk - he's a straight shooter, he says what he really thinks, he doesn't hold back. he hates the media and thus he doesn't have any media game.... one of these things is true, the other one is very obviously not true. casey's become pretty excellent in striking the balance between coming across as authentic + expressing a decent share of his earnestly held opinions but ALSO pursuing his agendas and making active informed decisions about what narratives to pursue. he's really good at it!! it allows him to be effectively outspoken about stuff he genuinely cares about! but obviously that's something that should be kept in mind when assessing what he's saying he's always been an underrated communicator - journalists are pretty consistent in telling us how, even though he obviously didn't like a lot of his pr obligations, he's good at articulating his opinions and explaining how the sport works. he has EXPLICITLY talked about learning from valentino on the media front, which!! if he's telling you that he's taken a class in media manipulation skills from mr media manipulator himself, I think that's worth paying attention to?? he's talked about getting better at sucking up to journalists. he learned how to choose his moments. he also obviously sometimes played the pr game.... it's fair to say his apology to valentino at brno 2008 was not heartfelt, but he still did that and mostly sat on that grudge for TWO YEARS until the relationship properly started deteriorating. he said he had no problem with ducati when he came back from his illness break in 2009 and had no problem with them pursuing jorge, was very firm on this and essentially portrayed it as dumb rumours. which is something he has later repeatedly explicitly contradicted he lies! he has his agendas! you have to read between the lines with a lot of what he's saying! his autobiography is very unreliably narrated! his version of events is often HEAVILY edited, where some quite key details will never be brought up again (sometimes they'd even help make his point, but (imo) make him feel worse about himself, which is extra interesting) and certain details repeated ad nauseam so they'll stick in the public consciousness. he's good at this!! and his *reputation* for being honest and always speaking his mind is super useful for this. if everyone believes you always say what you really think, even when in the past it's been to your detriment, and you keep telling everyone you'll say what you really think because you don't want to play these media games and just want to be honest then... eventually maybe everyone will believe you're more honest than you are

justified in his grudges/grievances: as someone who is pretty confident that I hold the dubious honour of having written the most words about casey stoner on this website, this may be an odd complaint but. he's not always right. I find the 'hater' thing so grating because it's so glaringly one-dimensional and erases his ability to be genuinely unpleasant to people it'd be quite hard to frame as deserving targets. this is less 'misconception' but more in the general category of 'stuff that annoys me', but it's quite obvious when people mostly just use him as agenda fuel without being particularly interested in casey himself. and the thing is, right, he had a lot of Legitimate Grievances, but also he had some things that just... were not. he could be pretty patronising and had a temper that must have been a bit exhausting to work with until he got himself under control, he could be tactless to the point of being quite cruel. also, man, he really has got his conspiratorial leanings. a bit too ready to attribute malice when incompetence is perhaps a more reasonable explanation, very much on the look out for bias, deeply suspicious. at times paranoid. his european thing is objectively A Bit Silly, like I get how this happened but it's also not exactly the height of rationality. as a bonus, he seems to be at least a little prone to going completely cold towards others (not unlike a certain rival of his) and will stick to his grudges,, even if they're not particularly well-founded

relationships with non-valentino aliens: this is a bit of an umbrella one, but they're all kinda defanged. I don't think it's crazy to suggest casey experienced a fair bit of resentment towards all these guys. you don't really need to read between the lines too much to conclude that casey didn't like how much more highly rated dani was than him (stresses how it was ultimately to his advantage that he had a worse bike/team in 2005 because he learned how to deal with adversity or whatever; his 2006 tantrum after losing out to dani; the condescending tone he has slipped into at times). the jorge relationship, there's just a massive knowledge gap I reckon - casey really didn't like jorge at the start of 2008 and was quite ugly about it tbh. even if the story about him saying that jorge was faking needing a wheelchair after breaking his ankles isn't true (which personally I do kinda buy). and like... he just does not give a shit about marc. athletes are an egocentric bunch, this was after his time, it's just not his fight. obviously his own later rhetoric about all three of these guys is partly to blame but like,, he has an agenda here!! he wants to emphasise the contrast with valentino!! and all power to him, but, man you have to keep this in mind

blanket valentino rivalry item: listen. I think everybody can interpret information in different ways. and I think when you are a fan of something you should be able to have fun with it however you please. but I also think some interpretations are very wrong and I try not to perceive them. it's a rivalry that exists in public discourse in a really unhappy place where the most infamous moments are super well known but the actual details are super not well known. both laguna 2008 and jerez 2011 are infinitely more interesting if you familiarise yourself with a couple hundred key contextual facts and relevant quotes, I promise you. man... so much stuff you could get into here... let's not. in general, I think it's worth considering that casey really really really really hates admitting to weakness and is maybe motivated to de-emphasising how much he cares or has ever cared about valentino + how valentino has behaved towards him. it's also worth considering whether he might not be motivated to make it sound like mind games were a failure for valentino in that rivalry, backfired on him etc, and whether that really chimes with the actual. factual record

consistency of principles: he's a hypocrite!! for all his perfectionism and tendency to self-flagellate, he does hold others to standards he's not always willing to follow himself. the obvious thing is the 'ooh boy if somebody said this about YOU, you would pray on their downfall until the day you died' principle - and, look, obviously he would argue that when HE gets slandered people are wrong and when he's DOING the slandering, he's right. but. come on. also, mr respectful riding having two incidents of physically lashing out at another rider while they're on the bikes is... it's a bit much. perhaps the most interesting one is the health thing - for completely understandable reasons, he's hyper sensitive to how other people discuss his health, but it comes with a tendency to... be kinda weird about some of his rivals' injuries. either by downplaying them, suggesting they're not really a thing at all, or by exhibiting what skews dangerously close to schadenfreude. idk the misconception here is just... having him be straightforwardly principled.... like he's not, he's self-centred enough he does sometimes struggle to like. consider stuff outside of his bubble. and... well. sometimes he's a hypocrite

anyway. those were just the first five things I thought of. obviously these are all of a general theme... I basically think people make him way too boring. one-dimensional reliable character witness whose two character traits are 'neurotic' and 'hater'. if you talk about him like that, then at the end of the day you're probably not really that interested in him lol. which is fine! but. well. idk man. personally I do think he's more interesting than that

[skywalker1dream]

Title: Driven by Friendship

Note: Okay so I have no idea what I wroteSo if there are mistakes, please tell me (which I'm sure there will be) tbh I don't like it so maybe I will delete it later. Oh and we need more fics about these two men sadly. [They can hit me with a car and I'd say thank you]

Warnings: Language, Sexism,Injury,Emotional Conflict...(anything else? I don't know, let me know;3) Use of nicknames hase [bunny] (german correct me if I am wrong) darling, love..

Rbr!Sebastian vettel x fem!driver!reader,

Jenson Button x fem!driver!reader..

Summary: The story follows readers and Sebastian's friendship from karting to Formula 1. Tensions rise, leading to a collision and strained relations. Unexpected friendships.Despite support from Jenson Button, Sebastian's betrayal deepens the rift, emphasizing the importance of friendship.

From the moment you and Sebastian met at the local karting track as kids, you were inseparable. You shared a passion for racing that burned brighter than the sun, and together, you conquered every track and championship in your path.

As you grew older, your dreams of reaching Formula 1 together only strengthened. But along the way, you faced countless obstacles, none more daunting than the prejudice and skepticism of the male-dominated racing world.

journalists were quick to criticize you, questioning your skills and abilities simply because you were a woman in a sport traditionally dominated by men. But you refused to let their words discourage you, fueled by the unwavering support of Sebastian and your fellow drivers.

"Seb, did you hear what they're saying about me?" you asked one evening, frustration evident in your voice.

"Ignore them, Hase. You know they're just trying to get under your skin," Sebastian replied, his tone firm.

"But it's not fair! I've worked just as hard as anyone else to be here," you protested.

"I know, and I believe in you. We'll show them together," Sebastian said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

When Mark Webber retired in 2013, you saw an opportunity to join Red Bull Racing. You and Sebastian became teammates,It was a dream come true, a childhood dream to be teammates, and finally that dream came true, but little did you know that it would test the strength of your friendship in ways you never imagined.

As teammates, you and Sebastian were thrilled to be racing together at the highest level. But as the season progressed, tensions began to rise. Competitive instincts clashed with personal loyalties, and soon, your friendship was strained.

After a few races, tragedy struck. In a moment of miscommunication on the track, you and Sebastian collided, sending both of you spinning off into the gravel trap. The aftermath was tense, emotions running high as blame was exchanged.

"What were you thinking? You cut across me!" Sebastian's voice was filled with frustration as he confronted you in the garage.

"Me? You're the one who didn't leave me any room! I had nowhere to go," you shot back, your own anger rising to match his.

The tension between you simmered, neither willing to back down. But as the adrenaline faded and the reality of what had happened set in, you both knew that something had to change.

"Seb, can we talk?" you asked tentatively, breaking the silence between you a few days later. "Oh and I brought peace of offering." You showed him donuts and ice-cream.

"Sure, Hase. What's on your mind?" Sebastian replied, his expression cautious.

"I just... I don't want things to be like this between us," you said, your voice softening.

"Neither do I," Sebastian admitted, his gaze meeting yours. "I'm sorry for what I said. I was angry, but that's no excuse."

"I'm sorry too. I should have been more aware of my surroundings," you replied, a weight lifting off your shoulders.

As the season progressed, the strain on your relationship became more apparent. Small disagreements turned into heated arguments, and soon, you found yourselves avoiding each other both on and off the track.

"I can't believe you let me down out there," Sebastian muttered bitterly after a particularly disappointing race.

"I'm not the one who's been making mistakes lately," you retorted, unable to hide your own frustration.

The words hung between you like a dark cloud, a stark reminder of how far you had drifted from the friendship you once shared.

During a press conference, you faced harsh criticism from male journalists (again) questioning your abilities and suggesting that you didn't belong in Formula 1. As the questions became more pointed, you looked to Sebastian for some support, but he remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor.

"And what do you say to those who claim you're only here because of your connection to Sebastian Vettel?" one journalist asked, a hint of malice in his voice.

You felt the weight of his words like a punch to the gut. as you struggled to find a response, Jenson Button stepped in, defending you with a passion that brought tears to your eyes.

I've raced against her, and let me tell you, she's one of the most talented drivers I've ever had the privilege of competing against," Jenson said, his voice unwavering.

"She's earned her place in Formula 1 through hard work and determination, not because of who she knows," he continued, his words a lifeline in a sea of doubt.

As the press conference came to an end, you felt a sense of gratitude wash over you, grateful for Jenson's unwavering support even in the face of adversity.

As the press conference came to an end, you felt a sense of gratitude wash over you, grateful for Jenson's unwavering support even in the face of adversity.

After the journalists filed out of the room, you turned to Jenson, a mixture of emotions swirling inside you.

"Jenson, I don't know what to say," you began, your voice trembling with emotion.

Jenson smiled warmly, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You don't have to say anything, darling. We're all in this together, remember?"

You nodded, feeling a swell of gratitude for his kindness. "Thank you, Jenson. I don't know what I would have done without you," you admitted, a lump forming in your throat.

"Hey, that's what friends are for," Jenson replied, his gaze sincere. "Just remember, you belong here just as much as anyone else. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

His words resonated with you, a reminder that you were not alone in this fight. With a grateful smile, you squeezed Jenson's hand, silently thanking him for being the friend you needed in that moment of doubt.

"I won't forget it, Jenson. Thank you," you said, your voice filled with conviction.

And as you left the press conference room, a renewed sense of determination filled your heart. Though the road ahead would be challenging, you knew that with friends like Jenson by your side, you could face anything that came your way.

Back in the garage, you confronted Sebastian, hurt and anger bubbling to the surface.

"Why didn't you defend me out there, i thought we had each others back?" you demanded, your voice trembling with emotion.

"I... I don't know. I just... I didn't know what to say," Sebastian stammered, his eyes filled with regret.

"You could have said something, anything!" you cried, feeling the weight of his silence like a betrayal.

But as you looked into his eyes, you saw the regret there, a silent acknowledgment of his failure to stand by you when you needed him most.

The tension between you and Sebastian had reached a breaking point, with each passing day bringing more heated arguments and strained interactions. But just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, there was a knock on your hotel room door.

With a sense of trepidation, you opened the door to find Sebastian standing on the other side, a sheepish smile on his face and a box of donuts and a tub of ice cream in his hands.

"I come bearing peace offerings," he said, his tone lighthearted but sincere.

You couldn't help but smile at his gesture, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. Donuts and ice cream had been your tradition for as long as you could remember, a symbol of your friendship and the bond you shared.

"I guess old habits die hard," you replied, stepping aside to let him in.

What followed was a week of laughter and camaraderie, as you and Sebastian fell back into your old rhythms, joking around and laughing at each other's jokes and antics. It felt like old times, and for a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could go back to the way they were.

But as the week drew to a close, the tension returned, hanging between you like a heavy fog. And despite your best efforts to maintain the facade of friendship, the cracks in your relationship began to show once again.

The once inseparable bond you shared seemed to fade further into the distance with every awkward silence and tense exchange.

As the season pressed on, the weight of your strained relationship began to take its toll on both of you.

"Are you crazy? You almost crash into me!" Sebastian's voice was filled with frustration as he confronted you in the garage.

"Me? Are you blind?You were in front of me, you braked and we both almost hit the wall!"

you shot back, your own anger rising to match his. The tension between you simmered, neither willing to back down. But as the adrenaline faded and the reality of what had happened set in, you both knew that something had to change.

despite your best efforts to maintain the facade of friendship, the cracks in your relationship began to show once again.

The strain between you and Sebastian was palpable, lingering like an unspoken truth in the air. Despite the temporary respite of laughter and shared memories, the underlying issues remained unresolved, simmering beneath the surface.

With each passing day, it became increasingly clear that the competition between you was more than just a temporary setback.

And as you navigated the twists and turns of the race track, you couldn't help but wonder if the biggest challenge you faced wasn't the competition on the circuit, but the battle to salvage what was left of your fractured friendship with Sebastian.

The fight between you and Sebastian was like a collision on the track—explosive, unpredictable, and fraught with tension. It began with a series of small disagreements, simmering beneath the surface until it finally erupted into a full-blown confrontation.

As the dust settled and blame was exchanged, tempers flared, and harsh words were spoken in the heat of the moment.

Accusations flew back and forth, each of you convinced of your own innocence and the other's culpability.

As emotions ran high, the fight spilled over from the track into the garage, where heated arguments and bitter accusations threatened to tear apart the fabric of your friendship. Both of you dug in your heels, unwilling to back down, each convinced of the righteousness of your own perspective.

But beneath the anger and hurt, there was also a sense of betrayal feeling that the person you once trusted implicitly had let you down when you needed them most. And as the fight dragged on, it became increasingly clear that repairing the damage done to your relationship would be no easy task.

The fight between you and Sebastian reached a boiling point in the garage after the race.

"What were you thinking?!" Sebastian's voice was sharp with frustration as he confronted you.

"Are you serious, Seb? I left you plenty of room! You just didn't take it!" you shot back, your own frustration boiling over.

"I had nowhere to go! You squeezed me into the wall!" Sebastian's voice rose, matching your intensity.

"I didn't squeeze you into anything! You should have backed off!" you retorted, the tension between you crackling like lightning.

The team members nearby exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the escalating conflict between their drivers. But neither of you seemed willing to back down, each too stubborn to concede the other's point.

Just as the argument between you and Sebastian threatened to escalate further, a familiar voice cut through the tension like a knife.

"Hey, hey, what's going on here?" Jenson Button's calm voice broke through the heated exchange, his presence commanding attention.

You and Sebastian both turned to see Jenson standing in the doorway of the garage, his expression calm but firm.

"nothing," Sebastian started, but Jenson held up a hand to silence him.

"Nothing? From where I'm standing, it looks like a whole lot of something," Jenson replied, his gaze moving between you and Sebastian.

Sensing the gravity of the situation, Sebastian fell silent, his jaw clenched in frustration. You too remained silent, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and relief at Jenson's intervention.

"Look, I get it. Racing is intense, emotions run high, but you two are teammates, friends even. You can't let this come between you," Jenson continued, his tone gentle but firm.

"We'll talk about this later," he said, turning his attention to Sebastian. "But for now, I think it's best if you both cool off."

With a nod from Jenson, Sebastian reluctantly backed down, his expression tense but resigned. You too felt the tension draining from your body, grateful for Jenson's intervention.

The final race of the season loomed ahead like a storm on the horizon. With both of you fighting for the championship title, the stakes had never been higher.

But as the race unfolded, it became increasingly clear that this would be no ordinary battle. Sebastian's desperation to win seemed to override any sense of sportsmanship, resorting to aggressive maneuvers and risky tactics to gain an advantage.

In the final moments of the race, as you and Sebastian went wheel to wheel, the unthinkable happened. With a sudden lunge, Sebastian executed a dirty move, forcing your car off the racing line and into a spin that sent you careening off the track and into the barriers.

Time seemed to stand still as your car crumpled against the unforgiving concrete, the impact reverberating through your body like a shockwave. And in that moment, as the realization of what had just happened sank in, a profound sense of betrayal washed over you like a tidal wave.

Sebastian's victory celebration felt hollow against the backdrop of your shattered dreams and broken trust. As he stood on the podium, basking in the glory of his championship win, you couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness, knowing that the cost of his victory had been the loss of your friendship.

And as the season came to a close, the rift between you and Sebastian widened into an unbridgeable chasm, the bonds of friendship irreparably broken by the events of that fateful race. In the end, it wasn't the thrill of victory that defined the season, but the bitter taste of betrayal and the painful realization that some wounds never truly heal.

As Jenson stepped into the hospital room, you noticed the concern etched into his features, a stark contrast to the composed demeanor he usually exuded. His presence was a welcome sight, offering a glimmer of solace amidst the turmoil of the aftermath.

"Hey," Jenson began softly, his voice filled with empathy as he approached your bedside. "How are you holding up?"

You mustered a weak smile, grateful for his presence in the midst of the chaos. "I've been better," you admitted, the weight of recent events pressing down on you.

Jenson nodded, his expression somber. "I saw what happened out there. I'm so sorry."

The memory of the crash flashed through your mind, the sensation of spinning out of control still fresh in your memory. Tears welled up in your eyes as you recalled the betrayal of seeing Sebastian's maneuver unfold before you.

"I don't understand why he would do that," you confessed, your voice trembling with emotion.

Jenson's gaze softened, a mixture of sympathy and understanding in his eyes. "I wish I had an answer for you. All I know is that you didn't deserve any of this."

His words were a balm to your wounded spirit, offering a sliver of comfort in the midst of your turmoil. As you met his gaze, gratitude flooded your heart, a silent acknowledgment of the unwavering support he had shown you in your darkest hour.

"Thank you for being here, Jenson," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.

Jenson reached out, grasping your hand in his own, a gesture of solidarity and reassurance. "Always, love. You're not alone in this."

And in that moment, as you felt the warmth of his hand enveloping yours, you knew that no matter what lay ahead, you had a friend by your side who would stand with you through it all.

So the end...it was bad I know,but It was fun to write it.

Can you guess my inspiration? I give you hint "Silver Arrows"

I love drama

[swampstew]

Can I request Buggy with Fluff N3 for the event? Thank you!! ❤️❤️❤️

Hello anon❤️ Thank you for your submission and patience! I hope you get a chance to read this :) You requested fluff, subtle intimacy, and I give you: [ Simple Touches ] Bandaging/stitching up an injury

Oh Captain, My Captain Buggy

Warnings: None. Fluff and cute stuffs. Ended up sorta sweet n' romantic in a way I wasn't anticipating but Buggy deserves it tbh, cutie but wet n' pathetic King of the Pirates❤️ Word count: 1.1K

“OOOOOWWWWW!”

You push through the pained howls of your Captain as you stitch up his latest injuries. For a man who had eaten the chop-chop fruit, he sure got brutally chopped up by other people more than he should reasonably be.

To be fair, his latest network of contacts involved some intense and no-nonsense individuals. Two in particular who seem to have a rather tight hold on his gorgeous blue head as he did their bidding and processed their contracts.

“DAMNIT Y/N that HURTS!” Buggy hollers at you, tears spilling down his face in pure agony. It makes your heart break. Still you push on.

“It will hurt more if it festers and worsens. Then we’d have to seriously chop pieces off you,” you chide him gently, done with pushing the needle through the tail end of the long gash on his chest. “This is going to sting a bit but I’ll count down from 3. 3—” you tightened the sutures securely before he could hold his breath.

“YYYYEEEEOOOOOWWWW!!!!” his head flew from his neck, as did his hands and feet from his body. “GRR!! YOU ENJOYED THAT TOO MUCH!” he spit at you.

You give him an unimpressed look, “You know that that’s not true. Now get back here. You have some wounds on your face and right hand that need to be disinfected and bandaged. If you can make it through without any complaints, I’ll give you a treat. Sound good?”

His head reattaches to his head but his hand floats down to grip his chin, “A treat? What kind of treat?”

“A nice one. We got a deal?”

With a nod, Buggy reassembles himself and sits still as you inspect each cut and bruise. Washing away the dirt and dried blood, applying a salve on the wounds, and wrapping each one in a bandage or long, woven cotton wrap to soak up any leaking from the cuts. A hushed song brews in your throat and without realizing it, you start to emit the tune from your lips as you patch him up.

Buggy watches you closely as you lightly hum to yourself while you work. Normally, he would literally talk his ass off about anything and everything – but watching you treat him so tenderly has his mouth dry and his mind quiet. Trying to understand the feelings in his chest that you cause him to have with your firm but kind personality. Not understanding why you treat him with such dignity and warmth despite his antics; you’re one of the few people who sees through his bullshit but you also accept it, encourage it even. In his brain playing back all his interactions with you over the last year that you’ve been on his crew to better understand what your deal is.

His eyes bug out of his head for a moment, a memory unearthing itself. With Alvida.

“I think the new doc likes you, Bugs,” she tilted her cowboy covered head at Buggy. When he gave her a confused look, she scoffed and used her head to gesture at you sitting at the bar with his most trusted men. “You’re telling me that you’ve NEVER noticed how much time they manage to spend with you, or how they always talk you up? That they know almost everything about you that not even your own crew knows about?” Buggy scoffed, “Most of my crew are idiots, why would I tell those morons anything?” Alvida gave him a bewildered look, “Then why do you share anything with the doc?” “I don’t share EVERYTHING!” “Oh no? So you haven’t spilled to them how Emperor Shanks is the only man you can respect as the next King of the Pirates?” His hands flew to her face and smothered her speech, “QUIET YOU DAMN WOMAN!”

Buggy felt like an idiot.

That was maybe three months ago.

“All done. You should heal up in no time but if you feel worse, you know where to find me.”

Buggy brought his hand to the back of his neck, “Yeah. Sure.” He wasn’t sure how to pivot from being a crybaby patient to a flashy guy with rizz when he suddenly felt…overly aware of how he acts around you. To be perceived by you and now knowing that you were perceiving him.

“Wh-where’s my treat?”

“Oh that’s right I do owe you a nice one. Wait right here.”

His mind is racing a mile a minute, trying to plan, trying to scheme a charming personality in 2-seconds flat as he watches you go to your desk and pull out a dark bottle. Buggy didn’t notice how attractive your face is as he did just now. He always thought you were the most attractive in the crew in general, but now he was seeing your face. And he found that…he actually quite liked it.

Your step falters are you become aware of his intense stare. You feel…insecure suddenly. Is there something gross on your face or scrubs? Does he not like liquor suddenly? Oh no, is your hair messy?? With a trembling hand you tuck some loose hair behind your ear and lightly touch your scrub as you present the bottle.

“An aged rum that I nicked from our last raid. I hear it’s a grossly expensive brand.”

Buggy took the bottle and rolls it in his hands quietly, not saying anything at all. You watch him nervously, anxiety eating at your gut, a hot flush spreading behind your ears and the back of your neck. You know for a fact that Buggy likes expensive things, no matter what it is. Even if he hates what it actually is, like that time he tried bull fighting fish caviar. He was laid up in your office for a week after that one. He still keeps a preserved jar around, just so he can say he has it on hand.

“I hear it goes well with steak, or something,” you mumble, confidence draining away slowly.

He perks up to that, “Steak? Oh yeah, yes that does sound like a good pairing.” He stands up from the cot and shifts on his feet.

Buggy the Star Clown is shooting his shot.

“If I make Cabaji cook up a few steaks, would you…be interested in joining me for dinner? A flashily impromptu date?”

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head, that being the last thing you expect to hear from him. You had been certain that you would have to ask him out yourself with all the hints and nudges you gave him in the past seemed to go, well, right over his head.

“Oh! Y-yes that sounds nice!”

Smiling, Buggy turns to exit. Passing through the threshold he turns back to add, “I’ll pick you up at your cabin later. Escort you to the dining hall and all that jazz.” He ducks out of the room.

You’re glad he isn’t there anymore because your knees weaken and you grab the cot in support. Thrilled, you look at your schedule and decide to close up early. The injured would have to stay injured on their time, you had an important date tonight.

[arabaka]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ uzui tengen x fem!reader. CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ !!! written with the intention of being canon-divergent: tengen is in his early 20s when you marry and either you will be the only wife or the first (so no mention of the 3 wives here). term "bride" is used. virginity loss (and mention of sex hurting). unprotected sex. creampie. AUTHOR'S NOTE: tbh, i'm not a huge fan of this but i didn't work for hours not to post this lol so pls be nice... WORD COUNT: 3.1K PSD CREDIT !!! MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED !!!!!!!（ ꐦꉺωꉺ)つ

Marriage, it’s a means to an end for the women in your clan; how useful can you be if you’re not bearing children, and lots of them, to ensure that the livelihood of your bloodline (or rather, your husband’s) stands the test of your time? Affection is hardly guaranteed, intimacy only a factor when you’re underneath the man you’re promised to. You know this, were raised with this idea in mind. The very notion of love is an afterthought.

You aren’t expecting it. Did not think it would come to you, no matter who you were to wed. So as you’re seated, posture nice and proper, with your treasured koto lying in front of you as evidence of your many talents, you expect your heart to be tame when your betrothed walks through those doors.

So imagine your surprise when your heart betrays you, thumping at a rate you’ve only experienced during your harsh and diligent kunoichi training, when a certain Uzui Tengen, strongest of his family, strides in your line of vision with an aura unlike anything you’ve ever sensed before.

You feel silly, fingers trembling for a man you know only by his name on your tongue. It’s a sickly sensation, your stomach folding in on itself with nerves you didn’t count on. You nearly forget to bow, not wanting to tear your eyes away from the magnetism the man exudes for even a second but your mother is kind enough to press a firm palm to your back. You always thought she would want this more than you, but now you’re not so sure after coming face to face with someone the likes of him. 

Tengen grew up largely the same, if we are on the topic of principle alone. Children in the Uzui household are raised to care for aptitude and strength, not each other. Bloodshed is more common than a kind word. But while his father tried to hammer away the notion that wives are only good for childrearing and nothing else, Tengen couldn’t help but feel that his heart would sing for a woman to call his own.

A hope that comes to fruition the moment his eyes land on you, that very song he always longed for reaching a crescendo when you bless him with the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen. 

So the questions the faction head goes through end up mattering little in comparison to your answers. Every word, Tengen clings to. Even when you play the koto, fingers daintily and precisely plucking the strings to orchestrate a tune Tengen wants as his personal lullaby, all he can keep his eyes on is you. 

The attraction between the two of you is as sudden as it is all encompassing. You have never entertained the thought of love, much less love at first sight, yet here you are, completely and totally enamored with a man you hardly know. 

You didn’t think you would get swept up like this, didn’t think this passion would overtake your heart so easily and so strongly but you suppose this is fate and you aren’t about to question the gift it’s plopped onto your lap.

The clan leader is just about to take back the reins on the meeting, declare that a further review would take place, when Tengen pipes up loud and clear, with a fire in his eyes you would soon grow accustomed to.

“No need! This will be my bride!” 

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears and it is throbbing. He sounds so sure, looks even more so with his brawny arms crossed over his puffed out chest and you can feel your vision wobble, his entire visage and the intention of his declaration striking you right where you sit. And with that, you refuse to allow any moment of silence to cross the room, for fear even a second could cost you the marriage. Your volume is on par with Tengen’s as you cry, “It would be my honor! Please,” You bow before the man, forehead kissing the tatami mat below when you continue, “bless me with the privilege to live alongside you for as long as either of us shall live.”

Those words… You mean them, can feel your tongue fanning the flames of your soul, embers burning bright for the man you are determined to make your husband. And it’s a role he is just as eager to take, having resolved to claim you since the moment your eyes met.

And he tells you as much when the two of you are finally alone, after the arrangement is all said and done.

“Come here.” Unlike your first meeting, Tengen’s voice here is tender and soft, a hand of his outstretched as he beckons you to come into the room the two of you will now share as husband and wife. Dressed in a nighttime garment with his hair down and face clean of any distractions, it’s no wonder you hesitate, in awe of the beauty of your spouse. You catch yourself staring, cheeks basking in newfound feverish warmth but your husband simply laughs. Not at you, not at your expense, but because you’re just too damn cute.

Your intention is to sit beside him, but Tengen has other plans. Not content with the idea of being apart from you any longer, he captures your hands in his and pulls, guiding you onto his lap. He feels your legs buckle and squirm until you’ve adjusted to the thick muscle just underneath his robe. This may be as foreign to him as it is to you, but it sure doesn’t seem like it. Must be the confidence that seems to come with everything Tengen does, like the grin he’s giving you right at this moment.

“Comfortable?” He asks, just as he runs a large palm down your spine until resting firmly on the small of your back. He cocks his head then, white tresses framing his strong jawline and you feel your heart rattling from his effortless charm. And to think, you have this man now and forever. It’s supposed to be daunting to a degree but this climate is nothing like the arranged marriages you’ve heard about in the district. Where you’re supposed to feel constrained, you feel cradled. Where you’re supposed to feel obligation, you feel true desire. 

“Mmhm,” Your hands travel from your body to his, walking up his torso and stifling a breath when you feel the firmness of his pecs waiting underneath his garb, “Very.” You notice the slight quiver in his chest on an inhale; it would be indiscernible to anyone else but to someone of your caliber, someone trained to analyze even the most minute changes in another person’s body, it’s all too apparent. “And you?” You feel called to touch more of him, fingertips trailing towards his center and dipping beneath the hemline of his clothing. 

He revels in your touch, craves more of it actually but Tengen is also enjoying the simplicity of this initial contact. You’ve inspired him to explore more of you, letting his other hand wander up your arm until it sweeps over your clavicle. He’s thoughtful in the way his thumb brushes strokes along the bone, admiring the finer details of your form. “Very.” He repeats, crimson eyes flitting to meet yours and you swear, you lose even the most basic skill of breathing just then. 

You realize then, just how close the two of you are. It should scare you, the intensity of this position but you can only think of wanting more when you look at Tengen’s strong features, the flare burning and circulating his pupils.

“Tengen,” You breathe, “Do you believe in fate?” 

He offers up a smile before moving his fingers up from your neckline until he has his thumb pressing down on the surface of your chin, the rest of his fingers crooked underneath to gingerly move your head, allowing him to admire your features from every angle. “Of course.” He sounds so certain, “How else would we have met?”

His words, they’re so sweet they litter goosebumps on your skin. But he doesn’t stop there. The pad of his thumb is now at your bottom lip, squishing the skin so he can watch the delightful way color drains from it. Your teeth poke out just a tad and you hear a soft rumble in the base of his throat, a groan he’s barely able to restrain at how delicious you look. “You need to know, I don’t do anything half-assed. I don’t take anything that’s beneath me.” You follow his direction, your head tilting to the side and god, he could just eat you up. Looking as disheveled as you do, hair flowing in the same direction with the collar of your garment starting to slide down the slope of your shoulder. 

You notice the pivot in his gaze, feel a tremble in your bones when he starts to speak again, “And what I do take…” You feel pressure on your back, Tengen working to close the gap between you two at last and all you can do is follow, desperately craving the same thing. “Is what I treasure.” 

And at long last, your lips touch, the hand at your face now withdrawing only for it to land squarely on your thigh, squeezing the supple flesh that awaits him there. You sigh, following suit and finally letting your fingers curl and grip knots into Tengen’s robe. You’ve never kissed, never known it could feel this good and it’s a high your brain won’t soon forget, even if your movements are naive and at times, clunky. 

When you part, it’s only for a breath. Tengen milks the opportunity though, drinking in the dazed look in your eyes, the gap between your lips as you try to find satisfaction apart from him. He knows what he wants, knows what he needs and that is to kiss you more.

You desire the same, knees at either side of Tengen’s body starting to cave in as the urge for more, more, more starts to overwhelm your very soul. You swoop in, kissing Tengen and stealing a glance at just the right moment so you can watch those pretty eyes of his flutter shut. His lips, they’re as firm as the rest of him but when he kisses you, it’s with a fondness you’ve never felt in your life. A care you’ll only ever want from him.

One kiss turns to two, then three until it’s like you’ve only known how to kiss him your whole life. The moment, it starts to feel so good that you unknowingly start to sink deeper into his lap, squeezing a throat groan from the man that you part your lips to swallow. You have to have more so your tongue crosses the threshold, sliding along his until the spit starts to trickle out the corner of your mouth and coat your lips in a glossy sheen.

Do you know what you’re doing to him? Do you understand that you’re reducing a man as strong as he into a melted mess? You feel his nails start to dig into your back, mimicking what you’re doing to his chest and you whimper. Not from pain, but from pleasure.

You don’t know when it happened, but you’ve stopped rubbing yourself on his meaty thighs and started grinding on the very prominent outline of his hardened cock. And now that you’ve started, you don’t want to stop. So you keep bumping yourself against his girth, keep winding yourself up and down, up and down over its thick weight because it sparks to life a tingling pleasure you’ve never imagined.

Tengen tries to grin into the kiss but he surprises himself when all he can offer up is a needy groan. What a little minx you’ve become, he should have expected this show of force but the surprise only quickens the blood flow to his shaft and you feel it, experience the twitch bouncing between your folds. He reminds you of the hold he has on you, one hand deepening the arch in your back while the other at your thigh starts to direct the rhythm of your hips. “Let me have you. Let me have all of you, my bride.” He growls so intently into your mouth that all you can do is nod your head and let his hands get to work.

“Need to see you, hold on.” Tengen’s back to the floor and you on top, he ushers you to come to a seat under his shaft so he can see how far up his long and heavy cock will go inside you. The sight is beautiful, perfect even as he bends his knees so you have something to recline on. The way he starts to pivot his pelvis, running the length of his shaft up your tummy is driving you mad. You’re so wet, it’s dripping onto the base of his member and he trembles once the droplets start to run down his fat and full sac. “Shit, you’re this wet for me? Come on, show me that you’re made for me.”

With that, you pick yourself up, giving yourself enough space to position his leaking tip at your entrance. The head of his dick is wide and swollen. Driblets of his pre-cum start to slather along your folds and as you start to lower yourself, you learn that his length, his width, is going to be a challenge.

But when have you ever turned down a challenge?

“Come on, that’s it.” Tengen’s hands find themselves latched onto your hips, the veins running down his knuckles making themselves known as his grip grows tighter and tighter. He watches your expression, takes note of how your twist and your brows furrow as you stretch for him and he starts to whisper gentle praises, telling you that you’re doing so good, doing so well for your husband.

And it’s like a cork pops when he finally gets the tip in. A whimper escapes you, as does a pant as you struggle to take him. You’ve known pain, trained for it even but this… He’s just massive, you feel like he could split you in two if either of you aren’t careful. Your gummy walls convulse, trying to adopt to the intrusion as best it can as you start to lower yourself inch by inch. 

“S-Shit. You could keep it there and I’d– Fuck.” Tengen throws his head back, crown digging into the mat while he stills himself inside you. Even though you’re clenched around him so firmly, you’re still dribbling your juices onto him, slathering him in your essence and he’s only a little past his glans inside you. “You’re so damn tight.”

When did you start drooling? When did tears start to prick at your waterline? The sensation of Tengen filling you out is all you can think about and even though it hurts, you want to work through the strain. “Is– s-so big, T-Tengen.” You whine and it shocks you, the frailty in your voice.

His head picked back up, Tengen can’t believe what he’s seeing. A bump is starting to take shape the more you sink down his cock, the evidence that he’s well inside you on a beautiful display for him. “You’re doing great. Taking me so fucking well.” You have him hissing, incapable of taking on a tone any louder than that– a true feat for the man with a voice that can command a room.

So he watches you with bated breath and the edge of his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as you take him right to the end, your ass coming to a snugly rest on his upper thighs. Neither of you move just then, wishing to enjoy the moment as it is.

You’re shaking, your entire body rocking on Tengen’s burly muscles and even though all he is doing is flexing his cock inside you, you paw incessantly on his chest. “T-Tengen…” 

He coaxes you to lower yourself, draw close to him so you’re chest to chest. Close enough to kiss, so he does. “Gonna move a little.” Accenting his words is the slow roll of his hips, the rigidity of his member expanding further into your core and while it still aches, you’re starting to weed out the bits and pieces of dizzying pleasure within. “This is all I need tonight, baby. Just this.” Tengen nibbles on your bottom lip, narrowed eyes still on you even as you kiss.

The nod you give is lazy, all your energy drained by every tremor, every squeeze of your cunt. “T-Tengen, t-touch me– t-touch me here.” You mewl, saliva dripping into your husband’s mouth as one of your hands shakily takes his. You mold his hand, direct it to cup your sopping heat. “P-Please, please, please.” 

You’ve never begged. But for him? You’ll do anything.

Huffing because every exhale turns into a stifled grunt, Tengen’s thick fingers start to run motions along your little bundle of nerves until he gets to a routine of toying with your clit. He follows your moans like a song, paying attention to what movement makes you sing the prettiest. He kneads your sweet muscle, swiping some of your slick and coating your clit until it too is drenched.

Lashes kissing and eyes rolling back, you begin to meet Tengen’s ruts as if it comes to you naturally. That’s what it feels like anyways, because you keep driving your hips back so expertly it must be instinctual. You continue at this pace for a while, your motions languid and his penetration deep. 

“Gonna cum,” Tengen suddenly grunts, rocking you forward so your forehead ends up docking against his, “and it’s gonna be inside.” This isn’t a question. This isn’t up for debate.

And you’re okay with that.

“Y-Yes, plea-please.” 

Pressure builds in his thrusts, he’s fucking into you with more strength but with the same speed and that’s just what he needs before you feel him emptying his hot and heavy load into you. It’s passionate, the kiss he gives you as he fills you up and makes you nice and wet for him to pump the remaining spurts of his seed. “Hnnghh, fuckkkkk.” The thunderous moan has you trembling, your hole spasming around your husband’s cock as you too start to feel an overwhelming wave of bliss wash over you.  It’s amazing how gentle this boisterous, big man can be as he helps you off his cock, so much of him leaking out of you almost instantly as he does so. And it’s amazing, how he massages your stomach afterwards, soothing your various muscles for all their hard work. And it’s amazing, how at home you feel, in his arms and against his chest, falling asleep to the chorus of his heartbeat after a long, long night.

[disasterbuck]

I will be sending multiple because that list is LONG and I have the memory of a... I can't think of anything funny. I have a shitty memory

FIRST UP:

👁👁👁👀👀👀🩲🩲🩲🩲🩲

hehe I love you 💜

👁👁👁 - Buck Naked

Thankful for his earlier wisdom in ensuring the rest of the team had already left before he cornered Buck in the showers, Eddie just shook his head as their laughter echoed all throughout the tiled room. Sliding his hands up into Buck's hair, he ran his fingers through the wet strands and wondered if it was possible for his chest to burst from happiness.

"Eddie?" Buck said, finally picking his head back up as his giggles faded. "Do you have any idea how unhinged you are, sometimes?"

"Excuse me?" Eddie arched an eyebrow indignantly.

"Come on," Buck said with a snigger. "You just confessed your love to me while I was naked!"

"And that makes me unhinged?" Eddie asked.

"A little."

"I'll show you unhinged."

👀👀👀 - Chris Watches

uhgdjhgskfj I'm thinking of scrapping this wip entirely tbh. it's not working for me 😭

"Because you're together," Chris said.

"No," his dad said, sounding slightly pained. He turned his head so he could look at Buck as he continued, "because... we want to be. Together."

Buck was smiling back at him warmly and gave a small but firm nod of confirmation; a nervous smile appeared on Eddie's lips as well.

"Wait," Chris said, frowning as he looked from one to the other. The truth of the situation was finally beginning to click into place. "So you haven't been hiding it from me? You've just been…" He trailed off, unsure how to define it.

fjskfjkesf nvm it is working now, I got a bit dramatic hahaha

🩲🩲🩲🩲🩲 - Boxer Briefs

"Eddie?" he called out. "Where are you?"

A crash sounded from the kitchen and Buck quickly set off, finding Eddie picking up an empty cupcake tray which he must have dropped on the floor.

"What are you doing here?" Eddie asked, unable to meet Buck's eyes as he set the tray back on the bench beside a mixing bowl full of cupcake batter. His hands shook slightly as he reached for a packet of cupcake liners and began filling the tray with them.

"I'm really sorry about before," Buck said, leaning against the bench but making sure there was space between them so that hopefully Eddie wouldn't feel crowded. "And for not checking on you sooner. I should've texted or called or something, at least. I'm sorry."

Placing the last few liners in the tray, Eddie then paused. He still didn't look at Buck, but at least seemed to be considering his words.

"Are you… okay?" Buck asked cautiously.

With a deep inhale, Eddie moved into action again, picking up the mixing bowl as he said, "Of course I am." He began carefully measuring the cupcake mixture into the tray, his hands steady again now that he had an exacting task to focus on.

-

also using this as my Several Sentence Sunday

and tagging:

@dluoser @taketheplanspinitsideways @loudenthusiastic @wallywise @mxrcjqckspnchqsc

@i-am-married-to-my-fandom @therosesaredying @stillfuckingtired @classtrialguru @speggle

@awesome-igi @natnuszsstuff @olliesrants @crazyfangirlallert @delirium1995

@brah3280 @meanceclosetohell @anythingeverythingallofthetime @izzysbeans @sunflower-eddiediaz

@darkrose6578 @veronae-buddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @loveyouanyway @inell

@spicyrottingbrains @gnoeltop @idealuk @donationwayne @lemotmo

@smilingbuckley @realpersonwithrealfeelings @superlock-in-the-tardis @mjthe14thdoctor @strxwbereee

@idontknowwhatimdoing777 @ashleigh2658 @mari-lwyd-fannibal-blog @mineyneedsmoney @faithhopeandmisery

@spotsandsocks @unlifeira @tofanasmuse @pirrusstuff @buddiedaydreamer911

@littlevampireprincessuniverse @misshiss727 @i-put-the-star-in-bastard @hermioneindisguise @dangerpronebuddie

Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed 💕

[yuriririnnie]

Sober Thoughts

A/N: Reminiscent of my old conversations with my ex boyfriends over a pint (or pints tbh) of beer. I'll probably edit this again later on my laptop. For now, settle with no italicized words. Lmao

PAIRING | Lee Heeseung x female reader

WC | 2.6k

GENRE | Fluff, suggestive (if you squint) though I try to keep it PG

WARNINGS | Explicit language, mentions of alcohol and implied underaged drinking, suggestive, mentions of premarital sex

SYNOPSIS | It was a tough week for you and your boyfriend so you sit down in a quiet speakeasy bar where you guys had your first beer together. There wasn't anything special. No birthdays, anniversaries, etc. You weren't celebrating anything. Just you, him, and the comfortable nostalgia from your 7-year long relationship.

--

"Been a while, don't you think?" he wiggled onto his seat after pulling your chair out for you to get comfortable close to him.

You looked around. "It still looks the same as three months ago."

"I wonder if they still remember us."

"I'm sure the waitress still remembers you."

"You're gonna fight with me over that again like last time?"

"Nah, you're not as handsome as you were when we were in college." you giggled. He still is, but you can't give him that.

He scoffed at the remark. "But what about when the guy next to us thought you and I were just friends? The one who asked for your number while I was in the bathroom? Hmm?"

"He was obviously drunk!"

"Sad I wasn't drunk enough myself. I could have kicked his ass."

You rolled your eyes trying to fight a laugh from escaping. Before you could comment, one of the waitresses approached your table.

"Welcome back, Sir!" she squealed, not even hiding that annoying flirty tone. Heeseung locked eyes with you and you both giggled over your unspoken communication.

"Yeah, here with my girlfriend of seven years again. We'll have two draught beers please."

She lets out a small huff, clearly disappointed that you two haven't broken up yet. You look up at her with a huge grin plastered on your face that's practically saying "Nice try, sister." And with that, she left with your orders.

"Guess I still got it."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah Mr. Hotshot."

"So how was your week, my love?" he reached out to hold both your hands. "Anything new you haven't complained to me about this week?"

"Very funny. I still haven't gotten any calls from any of the positions I applied for this month."

"How about that firm you worked for last year?"

"I liked working there but I kind of want to explore other places too. The legal world is getting pretty small so opportunities are scarce and I'm finding it much harder now more than ever." you were doing fine, just not that great. And that's not somewhere you want to be when you're in your twenties. "How about you?"

Your beers arrived. "Work has been the same." he takes a sip. "My boss is trying to lure me into getting a promotion though."

"That's great isn't it?!"

"It would be if we're ready to relocate."

"What do you mean? Does the promotion come with relocation?" you gulped your first mouthful of alcohol for the night, trying not to mind the seriousness of the conversation.

"Yeah. It's not that far. Just by the other side of the city. The commute doesn't make much of a difference, but I would rather we decide together once you've found a job that's good for you."

"That sounds very husband of you, Hee."

He chuckled softly, "I always incorporate you into my decisions. We've been together for so long after all."

"Has it really been seven years?" you rest your chin on your hand as you pretended to think.

"Time flies." he sighed.

"When you're having fun?"

"When you're with a psycho more like it."

"Fuck you."

"I did last night." he lifted his eyebrow with a smirk.

"Meh, I've seen you do better."

You both laugh. Again, he swallowed another mouthful of beer before saying, "I remember our first time here about four years ago. The beer tasted terrible!"

You covered his mouth to shut him up. "You can't say those things here Hee they might kick us out!" He shook his head to remove your hand. "Besides, it was our first time drinking alcohol back then."

"Was it?"

"Well, doesn't include Jake's birthday party when we were barely 17."

He scoffed. "I was 18. You were 12."

You slapped his hand. "I was 17 and a half!"

"You were half my size!"

"In my defense, I still kind of am to this day."

You could see his eyes disappear as he gulped his drink. This was just like any of your normal lovers' banters and you'd think that he's already made every single possible joke to you by now and that you guys have probably already argued over every single thing, yet still the attraction, spark, and freshness of young love continue to linger around the two of you.

Both of you were drinking faster than usual tonight. Maybe it was just the familiarity of it all, but you really did enjoy hanging out with Heeseung. He wasn't just your boyfriend. He was also your best friend. You were lucky to find both in just one person.

"I still see that 15-year old little Ms. Perfect Girl who got a 93 in Chemistry when I got a 95."

"Why was I little Ms. Perfect? You were Mr. Hotshot with perfect grades, captain of the basketball team, vice president of the supreme student council—"

"Only because you were president." he interrupted with what looked like beer number 2 in his hands.

"You had absolutely no rizz in your 6-foot tall body though."

"No rizz?! I was able to get you!"

"Only because we got trapped in that audio-visual room with little to no sunlight," you recalled and the memory was so vivid it still felt like it happened yesterday, "and no phone signal too. God you were so loud! It was the first time we ever had a proper conversation outside of class."

Heeseung smiled as he thought about how you guys transitioned from enemies to friends to lovers.

"I found out about your family back then," you continued, "and your passion for music."

"You told me you wanted to be a lawyer and I thought it was totally weird."

You looked at him funny. "You don't seem to be so bothered by it now!"

"Only because I know you're gonna be rich someday."

That stupid smirk again. You poked his nose and he scrunched it simultaneously, earning a snicker from you.

"It wasn't always easy for us," you exhaled, "law school and work is tough."

"We pull through nonetheless."

You were both now on your third beer, and even if the night was still young and that it is still relatively too early for you to feel tipsy, it's there. You weren't drunk yet, but the buzz was slowly knocking on your head.

"How about Karina? Were you ever jealous of her?" he asked. You don't remember how the conversation went from arguing whether to paint the bathroom blue or yellow to the external factors that might have potentially caused a break up.

"No way!" you lied through your teeth, "I knew she was just a friend of yours from the start! I mean, she was drop-dead gorgeous but not enough to break me, nope."

He was full on laughing now, "Wokay, whatever you say Y/N my perfect angel bb girl lover baby."

"Stop mocking me!" you lightly slapped his shoulder, "Between you and I, in this relationship, you are the jealous one!"

Heeseung flinched a little bit because you were somewhat semi-screaming into his ear when you spoke. Oh he knew you were being your three-drink self already and he could tell because "three-drink Y/N" is loud Y/N. The buzz was now kicking itself in and you felt so much more light-headed that an hour ago. Nonetheless, he knew how you were feeling by now granted that this is probably your one hundredth time drinking together as a couple.

"Alright let me get this straight," he spoke close to your face, "you won't let me attend a Twice concert and finally see Jihyo the love of my life in person but still I'm the jealous one?!"

"Yes!" you huffed.

The sound of you guys' laughter and trivial taunting echoed the small bar. The music was mellow now and both of you were ready for another beer.

"I got really lonely when you decided to go to law school."

You nearly choked on your beer with his sudden confession. "Why? You always knew I was gonna get into law."

"Well, I know, I know, it's just," he took a deep breath, "Hearing how hard it was from my other friends and how demanding it would be for you, it kind of made me feel insecure."

"Why is that?"

"I thought that you might find someone in law school with the same interests, same aspirations in life, and end up dumping me for him." he let out a small laugh and rubbed the back of his neck.

Four-drink Hee was sensitive Hee, and although he looked adorable with his doe eyes and red ears, it made you sad because you wish he told you that before. You guys talked about your futures together even in the early stages of dating and he was always supportive of your life decisions despite them being almost entirely different from the things he wanted. Luckily during the course of your relationship, you were able to find common grounds and although in an ideal world things could have been called perfect, the life you guys had was close to perfect despite the struggles because he's just so passionate, kind, and understanding of your needs.

"I would never dump you." you huffed.

"Yeah, well I kind of figured that if you wanted to dump me you would have a long time ago."

"Right? Now I'm just stuck with you."

He pouted. Oh right. This was still Four-drink Hee.

"—but of course, wouldn't have it any other way!" you quickly took back and he made the most precious grin. You couldn't help but pinch his cheek.

Five-drink Y/N was dirty Y/N and Heeseung could see in your eyes how dilated your pupils have become and how touchy you've been for the last 20 minutes. He was feeling a little drowsy now too considering that these beers do come in a pint per order.

Were the mugs really that big?

He shook his head and continued to listen to you rambling about something he already knows and maybe it was just the alcohol but did you really just start caressing his thigh? No, you couldn't have, and you were at a public place.

With lightning speed, he ordered two shots of tequila.

"Coming right up, Sir!" the waitress chirped as she skipped back to the counter.

"That bitch is really getting on my last nerve," you say groggily, "do you want me to make a scene?"

He let out a breathy laugh, "No baby, I just want you to drink."

Truthfully he wanted to just move on to Six-drink Y/N because Five-drink Y/N was either just horny or violent and while it would have been absolutely no problem for him (he's been wanting you ever since your second drink) if you guys were at home, sadly you weren't. And he needed to be the responsible one.

God was he perfect or what?

You both took your shots and wow did your world spin with just one teeny-tiny drink? Heeseung let out the loudest Korean post-drink sound and you could only look at him in adoration.

"Did I ever tell you how annoying you are?" you ask.

"It was the first thing you ever said to me and the last thing I heard before you left for work this morning."

"Right, I remember."

"Do you remember the day we moved in together?"

He looked down at your fingers tapping on the table, then to your lips which were pursed together in thought. It was his turn to look at you in awe, and all you did were the most mundane things.

"I remember the day we decided to move in together" you finally spoke, "we were in my studio apartment and the kitchen sink was always leaking, the walls were so thin we heard the neighbors fight all the time."

"It always ends in sex though."

"Yeah, well we would sometimes fight over whatever they were fighting about too."

"And then we end up having sex too."

You felt your blood rush up to your cheeks and playfully slapped his shoulder. "It was a humble beginning, but one night you woke up and—"

"I woke you up and asked you if you wanted to move in together."

"Right," you respond feeling a little shy from his gaze, "and it's been two years since."

"I do not miss that old apartment of yours. The leaks and creaky sounds were loud and your roommates were insufferable."

"And yours weren't? You had to share an apartment with Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon, and they were all hooligans."

"Yeah, well we were in college and Jay paid for the rent a considerable long time so it helped me save up for our apartment now."

Heeseung was so much better than you when it comes to finances and since you were a student longer than he was, he covered for a lot of things for you. Post-grad, he was able to afford a two-bedroom apartment and even if the rent was a little high, not long after, he landed a considerably high-paying job at a creative agency. Sometimes you would envy his growth because it would always be exponential, but looking back to where you started from where you are now, you've come a very long way too.

"Do you ever see us getting married, Y/N?"

This was Seven-drink Heeseung and maybe this was his cap because you've never ever been asked this question by him before despite being together for so long. Nearly choking on your drink, you released a small cough in response.

He giggled and kept a lingering stare at your reaction. "I'm just messing with you, you don't have to—"

"Of course, I do."

"Oh."

His ears were burning red now. Cute.

"Who else would I spend the next seven years with? Or even the next ten? Twelve? Fourteen? Forever?" you made a cheesy grin to match your equally cheesy statement, "you ask the silliest questions, Mr. Lee."

"Alright, alright!" he put both his hands up in defeat, "let's go get the bill."

You could only nod because at this point you really did feel the alcohol in your head and it wasn't light anymore. It felt heavy, and if it weren't for the sobering conversation you had with your boyfriend by the end of the night, you would have semi-passed out by now.

--

Heeseung guided you up to your apartment, removed your shoes, and settled you onto your couch.

"Had fun tonight, baby?" he sat on the floor facing your bare legs as you rested your head back on the pillow.

"Mmm-hmm." you respond feeling his hands massage your aching calves, "Thank you for taking me out tonight."

"Of course."

The next morning, you could only recall the moment you fell asleep on the couch with him.

Seven years might not be a long time for some, and for others it might have felt like an eternity. But for some reason you were stuck in between a split-second and forever. That's how Heeseung made you feel. Euphoric but rational, ecstatic but calm, mature but youthful, innocent but brave. He provided the sweetness of Nirvana along with the thrill that comes with uncertain reality.

You were tiptoeing on the border of sober and drunk, and you're glad to be held by him now and maybe, just maybe, if life could just allow you to be even more lucky, forever.

[1eoness]

hi! could i request something fluffy? maybe leon spoiling reader with some meal, or cuddles? thanks! ❤️

mentioning meals I AM THE REMINDER TO GO GET A SNACK AND REJUVENATE

and yes ofc i love writing fluffy fluffy hehehehe (im kind of uncreative rn so sorry). btw i'm writing this in the same format as the other one but if you want it to be more structured and narrative just uh tell me LOL

content : fluffy leon kennedy x gender neutral!reader (it's written in second person though). pet names lol

synopsis : leon wants to spoil you so he's feeding you and providing you with an army's ware of cuddles >:)

-food is fuel and leon is a fucking engine

-tbh i hc that leon has a big appetite for sweet stuff,,,, i'm sure a big collective of ppl agree bc he's so squishy squishy [what the fuck am i saying idk]

-anyway enough about me gushing on leon.

-YOU. when will you ever take the time to let him spoil you? are you trying to avoid him?:((

-leon is part kidding. he's not mad ofc but sometimes he can't help but get a tiny bit worried about you sometimes.

-see, leon is a firm believer that a person cannot come to their best senses unless their basic/psychological needs are fulfilled. that includes things like eating, or affection—because when your body senses that you're lacking in something, it will use your brain power to signal you that you need to eat or be smothered with affection! hence you can end up feeling burnt out if u dont pay attention to ur love vitals!! >:(

-leon's mindset will always be applied on you because you're his second heart, you're his tough rock and you need to be taken care of!!

-HE KNOWS WHAT YOU'RE THINKING "affection? that's absurd people can still learn attentively and work efficiently without having to be coddled >:(" while yes in a sense its true—but sometimes you just don't realize that what you need is some time to be vulnerable and intimate, which can explain why your emotions feel a lot more heightened recently than usual (which he notices by the way). you've been tense for a while, and leon reasons that you can't just 'move on' from being overwhelmed with work stress and whatnot—you have to relieve it! but enough about theory.

-your hunger for food or affection is like a 7th sense to leon to be honest. while it's not an accurate intuition everytime, he's bound to think of you once every like two minutes.

-leon actually has very clear and high critical thinking skills. this means he is able to remember a lot of things about you even if he only notices them or you mention it once: this includes your comfort drink, where you like to be touched, hell maybe even the MBTI of your favorite character. and he ESPECIALLY knows what food you like. pad thai, sushi, oxtail, jerk chicken, cake, boba, YOU NAME IT HE KNOWS IF YOU LOVE IT OR NOT

-so when it actually came to asking you what you wanted, he'd send a text saying he's downtown and asking you 'what would you like, baby?'. he's careful with his words and doesn't say "do you want me to get you something on the way?" because it means he's giving you a choice >:( when the whole point is to spoil you because you deserve it.

-and if you answer with something vague like 'anything' HE DOESN'T MAKE YOU SPEAK FURTHER he'll just buy what he knows u like and keep the rest in the fridge if you dont wanna eat it :3 well that's what they're for, right?

"oh, my sweet.." his voice was quaint at the sight of you. leon tried his best to be silent when he entered the room, not wanting to sound like he was pitying you, but seeing you half-covered with comforters, mildly upset and your mind in a frazzle has his heart dropping a bit. you were probably thinking about so many things: meeting some deadlines, picking up this and that from the store, computing this... but you just couldn't organize your thoughts. but that's why leon was here.

your head moved to swivel his direction. "leon.." you smile at him weakly.

it was cold in the city tonight. leon places a hefty white plastic bag of your favorite on the nearby surface before he sits down in front of you from the edge of your bed. he takes the brief second of studying his lover's face before he pulls you into a comforting and warm hug. he can't help but pat the back of his sweet baby's head down, and you feel his lips barely nuzzle onto your ear as he mutters. "y're so good to me, baby. you know that?" leon reminds you before kissing the side of your head shortly. you tried to reciprocate it by giving him a nimble kiss on his cheek, which he gratefully accepts with an eager beam on his lips.

his hands slide down your arms in a soft stroke as he lets go of you gently. the rustling of the bed's layers being heard as leon moves a bit to reach for the hefty boxes of food, which he opens for you once he gives you take your utensil/s. leon's happy seeing you eat. it's a form of reassurance to him personally witnessing you getting the fill you deserve after a whole few days of being so busy and rushing everywhere. it's a calming sense to him as you both soak in comfortable silence while he watches you eat. he was caring less that it's 2 in the morning and caring more about the way the color on your face slowly vibrates back onto your features. you seem less tired, just by a tad percentage. it makes him smile to himself knowing he was able to take care of you. " 'm finished." you mumbled with a hum, feeling a little full and having to lie down. fullness makes you sleepy (and leon knows that!) so he has a subtle, cheeky little grin as he leans over and collects your legs with one arm, pulling you to make you lie on your back. he crawls over to lie down next to you, once again pulling you close to him while he wraps his arms around you— one patting and planted gently on your back while the other cradles your head close to his heart. just where you belong... "you tired, baby?" leon asked shortly and your little nod sufficed. his cheek gently rests against the side of the crown of your head. his touch is soft, it's sweet as he rubs and scratches down your back gently. he gently scruffles at your scalp with his other hand's fingertips, and the motions will send you to a hopefully revitalizing sleep ♡. he places a kiss on the top of your head, like a ribbon keeping its gift from falling apart :( he knows at this moment maybe you're thinking you don't deserve him. but that's so far from the truth.