#radio quiet zone

[kingzombear]

HAPPY MONSTER YURI PRIDE!!!! 🏳️‍🌈 🏳️‍⚧️

Oc Pride Posting yaaaay

Lucy is trans, Judy is nonbinary, and together they're Biblical Sapphics in love teehee 💘

[dragonuva]

Laaaaate af birthday gift for my bud @kingzombear

Also new Drago emotes for my server.

[pixie-inkk]

Spicy art trade I did with @kingzombear 🤘💜 of their lovely demon x angel yuri couple!!!

[montrosepretty]

{mentally preparing myself for a new social situation} I’m just like montrose pretty

[cowboysandcigarettes]

show me who you are ─

the mark of cain weighs heavily on dean's shoulders, affecting all of you. when the bloodlust becomes too much, you know you have to help him. in the only way you can think of.

cw ─ slight angst, mark of cain!dean, very slight mention of sa/non-con (not from dean), blood, gore, canon-typical violence, smut!, fem! reader, praise kink, dirty talk, rough sex, overstimulation, fingering, unprotected p in v, sorry if i miss anything else!

☆ 💿PORNSTAR - nessa barrett

i wanna hear you talking dirty,

i wanna see it on your face.

⭒

it was getting worse, you could all see it. you, sam, cas - hell, even crowley could see it. the mark was slowly killing dean, and it was only getting worse.

it wasn't as obvious at first, just small outbursts here and there, but surely enough, it became more obvious. he was more snappy than usual, spent more time alone, and he would zone out more, hands either clenched into fists or one was clasped tightly over the mark on his forearm.

you didn't bring it up to him, that was the silent agreement that you, sam and cas had come up with, and you obliged to it. so you didn't tell dean how the far away look in his eyes made your brow furrow and your stomach churn with worry, or how your heart broke every night when you could hear him wake himself up from his nightmares. you didn't tell him how seeing him struggle, and refuse help, was slowly but surely breaking you down, and you definitely didn't tell dean that you missed him.

sure, he was right there, just down the hall from you, close enough that you could hear him in the ungodly hours of the night, restlessly rummaging around his room, but he still wasn't there. not the real him, not the dean that you knew. the dean you knew was being held captive by that horrid mark that not only haunted his dreams, but yours now too. you missed your dean, the one who told stupid jokes that made you choke on your beer. the dean who grinned proudly whenever you correctly named a song on the radio and who would sing a long loudly to his favorite led zeppelin songs, glancing at you as he drove.

drives are mostly silent now, save for the hum of the impala, or the quiet background noise of the radio, but still never those homemade tapes that he loved so much. he doesn't drink with you anymore, though he still does it an unhealthy amount. he drinks alone in his room, or late at night by himself in the kitchen, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his eyes staring somewhere far off. the only reason you even know this is because one night, when you couldn't sleep, you went to the kitchen for a glass of water and found him there, only to have him get up and leave with only a nod of acknowledgement to you.

it was killing him, and if you didn't do something about it, it was going to kill you too.

the hunt was supposed to be a cakewalk. it was just a nest of vampires not too far from the bunker, and dean insisted that he was fine, that the mark's screaming wasn't too much for him to bear and he was feeling good enough to go with you guys on the hunt.

after sharing a look with sam, you reluctantly relented, agreeing to let him come along under the condition that if he felt the bloodlust creeping in, he would back off and stay behind in the impala.

that leads to now, where you were currently kicking yourself for not doing recon before going in. the nest was bigger than you and sam had originally thought, there were probably double the amount of vamps than you had previously thought, and when you, him and dean had crept into the nest, one of the freshly turned ones - a child, no less - had spotted you and screamed, awaking the whole nest. and so here you were, wrestling with one of the female bloodsuckers on the grimy floor of the abandoned barn.

her dirt-caked nails raked down the sides of your neck, making you hiss in pain as you brought your knee up hard, hitting her in the stomach, effectively pushing her off of you. as soon as she was on her back next to you, you scrambled up, quickly grabbing your machete that the bitch had knocked out of your hands and turning back to her. without even giving her a chance to bare her fangs, you raise your bloodied machete over your head, bringing it down with a cry, cutting her head right off.

taking a second to breathe, you stand up, panting heavily as you brush some hair out of your face, turning your head to the side to spit out some blood, running your tongue over your teeth to get rid of the taste. your moment of rests is cut short though, when you hear a loud thud and the sounds of a struggle from the room next to you.

gripping your machete tighter and taking a deep breath, you rush out of the room you had been in, leaving behind the bodies of the three vamps you had killed. you sprint out the door, crashing through the room next door, your heart racing as you see sam in a struggle with two bloodsuckers.

you rush over, cutting the head off one before he even has the chance to fully turn around. the other one drops sam in surprise, turning to you and snarling, his disgusting rows of fangs glinting in the low light. using the vampire's moment of distraction, sam grabs his own machete and raises it, slicing the vamp's head clean off.

"you okay?" you ask, chest heaving as adrenaline courses through your veins.

sam nods, raising a hand to brush his hair back from his face, his own erratic breathing evidence of the fight. "yeah. yeah, i'm good. are you?"

"one of 'em got me good with her nails, but nothing fatal," you answer, tilting your head to show him the marks. he winces in sympathy, eyes raking over the angry red marks before he bends down to pick up a vial of dead man's blood. "where's dean?"

"not sure, i lost him once they jumped on us," sam says, brows furrowing as he pockets the dead man's blood, adjusting his grip on his machete. "maybe we should-"

whatever sam was going to say is cut off as a scream comes from the floor below. you and sam share a look, fear spiking in your chest before you both turn, racing out the door. you sprint through the hallway and down the stairs, sam right on your heels as you skip steps, landing shakily at the bottom. your eyes scan the landing, and you turn to call out to sam, but before you can get a word out, a hand grabs your arm, throwing you across the room.

you hear sam call your name behind you, but he gets cut off, and you assume that he has a vamp of his own to deal with. you push yourself up with a groan, but as your sitting up, a hand grabs your arm again, hauling you up and slamming you against the wall.

"well, would ya look at this," the vamp spits, his yellow stained teeth shown in a grin as he leans in, his putrid breath in your face making you want to vomit. "the winchester's brought their little girl toy. how nice of them to bring us a gift."

"go to hell," you spit, the words strained as his hand fists in the collar of your shirt, pressing against your neck as he raises you higher against the wall.

the vamp only grins wider, running his tongue over his small, cracked lips. his dark, greasy hair falls in front of his eyes, and his bloodshot blue eyes make him look crazed. he's bleeding from a fresh cut on his forehead, and you wonder if one of the boys had already got into it with him.

"ooh, and she's feisty," he snarls, smirking cruelly. he raises his other hand to brush his grime-covered fingertips over your forehead, running them through your hair.

you turn away from his touch, struggling in his vice-like grip as bile builds in your throat, but his smirk only grins, a low, dark chuckle leaving his crusted lips.

"that's just fine," he whispers, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he leans in to nose at your neck, inhaling deeply, ignoring your struggle in his grip. "i like it when they fight back."

his words make your heart pound, your chest tightening with panic, eyes wide with fear as you struggle in his tight grasp, arms flinging and nails scratching at anywhere you can reach, but he doesn't even flinch, his grip not loosening at all. you open your mouth to scream, hoping to get the attention of one of the boys, or anyone that will help you at this point, but the hand that was in your hair slaps over your mouth just as you part your lips, your scream muffled into his palm.

"ah-ah, be a good girl and stay quiet," he tuts, pulling back to bare his fangs to you. you just stare at him, eyes wide with fear as you continue to struggle in his hold. you squeeze your eyes shut as he leans in again, a tear slipping down your cheek.

"let her go."

your eyes snap wide open at the familiar voice of dean, gaze landing on him over the vamp's shoulder, relief filling you at the sight of him. he was standing there, blood splattered all over his clothes, face and hair, his grip white-knuckled on his machete. sam stands behind him, his own eyes wide with fear as they flick between dean and you in the monster's grip. you try to call out to them, but the sound comes out as a muffled whimper against the vamp's hand.

the bloodsucker turns his head to look behind him, his smirk faltering at the sight of dean. his fangs retract, but his grip on you stays vice-like.

"well if it isn't dean winchester," the vamp snarls, his hand over your mouth tightening slightly, making you wince. "come to save your little doll?"

dean's jaw clenches, his expression darkening even further as he stares at you and the vamp, taking a menacing step forward.

"i said - let her go," he growls, something dark flashing in his emerald eyes.

the vamp's eyes widen in fear at the look on dean's face, and his grip on you loosens slightly. that's the opening you need, and with all the strength you can muster, you bite down hard on his hand, simultaneously kicking your leg as hard as you can into his crotch.

the monster cries out in pain, his hands dropping you as they fly to where you kicked him. you fall to the floor with a small thud, catching yourself before you hit your head. you quickly stand up while the bloodsucker is distracted, and sam immediately rushes over to you, grabbing you and pulling you into his arms, backing you away from dean and the vamp.

"sam, wait, dean-"

"the mark's got him right now," sam cuts you off, his voice thick with worry as he holds you to him, soothing your trembling form. "we just gotta stay out of the way, there's nothing we can do."

his words sink in, and it's then you realize that the barn is quiet. your eyes widen in realization, and you turn your head to look up at sam, heart pounding in your chest.

"he killed them all?" you ask, your voice just barely above a whisper. sam's grim nod is enough to make you feel sick.

your attention is torn from that information as you hear the vamp cry out in pain, and when you look up, you see dean's got him on the floor, the vamp's head twisted at an odd angle as dean steps on his back, machete raised over his head.

"this is less than you deserve for touching her, you disgusting son of a bitch," dean spits, and you watch in horror as he raises his machete over his head, bringing it down in one smooth stroke, blood splattering across his face as he cuts the vamp's head clean off.

the barn is silent, save for dean's heavy breath and the pounding of your heart. dean's sleeve is torn, and you can see the mark pulsing an angry red, burning into his skin, the sight making your chest tighten even more.

dean doesn't move, he just stands there, chest heaving and eyes blazing as he stares at the dead body of the vamp, his knuckles white as he grips the machete, blood dripping from the blade onto the old wooden floor.

your heart aches in your chest, and you pull yourself from sam's arms, giving him a reassuring look when he tries to stop you. taking a deep breath, you take a small step towards where dean stands, your body still shaking slightly from adrenaline.

"dean?" you call softly, your voice gentle, trying not to startle him. you don't flinch when his eyes snap up to you, and though his body is still tense, you can see something soften slightly in his gaze when it lands on you. "can you put the machete down, please?"

to your surprise, he does as you ask, the blade falling to the floor with a clatter that echoes through the empty barn. you take that as an invitation to step closer, your eyes never leaving dean's as they follow your movements, his lips parted slightly as he breathes.

when you reach him, you tentatively reach your arm up, placing your hand on his arm, but he jerks back, sucking in a breath as he seemingly snaps out of whatever haze he was in. he takes a step back from you, eyes flickering between you and the severed body of the vampire on the floor.

"let's just go," he says, his voice hoarse and cold. with one last flickering glance up to you, he bends down to grab his machete before turning on his heel and walking to the entrance of the barn.

⭒

the drive back to the bunker had been silent and filled with a suffocating tension that made it hard for you to breathe. once you were back inside the bunker, it wasn't any better, dean not saying a word as he storms ahead, rushing off to his room and closing the door abruptly behind him.

you and sam don't say much as he checks over you for any serious injuries, and you for him. he just hugs you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before heading to his own room. you follow suit, shedding your bloodied clothing in your room before grabbing a change of clothes and heading to the bathroom attached to your bedroom, which the boys had agreed to give you as one of the few that had it's own bathroom.

in the shower, you turn the heat all the way up, scrubbing the blood from your stained skin, washing off the hands of the vamp who had grasped you. you rub until your skin is raw, and even though you did the other day, you shave, just to feel that sense of normalcy instead of the sickly unease that crawls in your nerves. you wash your hair twice, ridding yourself of the blood and dirt you had collected in the barn, sighing as the steam melted against your skin.

as you stood there under the burning stream, you thought about dean, about the look in his eyes, the empty way he had walked away from you, and all of the pain he had been going through since he had taken the god-forsaken mark. you knew that the guilt from succumbing to the blood lust weighed heavily on his shoulders, and you just wished that there was some way you could focus that anger, that need on something else. and that's when the idea came to you.

immediately, you shut off the water, grabbing a towel and wrapping your hair in it, grabbing another one to wrap around your body, rushing back into your room and grabbing a different pair of clothes than you had previously chosen. you trade out the old sweatpants for a pair of sleep shorts, large sweatshirt for an old t-shirt that you stole from dean months ago, and tossing your plain panties, instead grabbing one of your nicer pairs, a dark red lace number that hugged you perfectly, foregoing a bra.

you tried not to think about how ridiculous this was as you slip on the clothes, taking your now semi-damp hair out of the towel and running your hands through it gently, getting out the leftover tangles. you splash water on your face, drying it off with a towel as you look in the mirror, chewing on your lip as you decide whether to put a bit of makeup on or not. you decide yes, just throwing on the slightest bit of mascara and eyeliner, adding just a bit of blush, and swiping over your lips with your cherry lip balm, pursing your lips to properly coat them.

you lean back and study yourself in the mirror, cringing at the bright red scratch marks on your neck before taking a deep breath as you consider what you're about to do. fuck it, you think, go big or go home, right?

with those words of wisdom to yourself and one last deep breath, you turn and walk of out the bathroom, and then out of the door to your room, heading into the hallway, your bare feet pad on the concrete floor as you make the short walk just a few doors down to dean's room. you stop in front of his door, taking a shaky breath before raising your hand, hesitating for a moment before knocking softly.

you hear shuffling, as if he's getting out of bed, and then the door opens and he's suddenly in front of you, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the doorway.

your breath hitches at the sight of him, your stomach flipping as you look up at him. his hair is spiked and damp, reflecting the shower he probably just took, his stubble highlighting his jaw. his plaid pajama pants are slung low on his hips, just enough to show a sliver of skin between the waistband and the hem of his black t-shirt that hugs his shoulders tightly, stretching over his chest.

dean says your name in a low voice, tilting his head as he looks down at you. you snap out of your trance, flushing slightly as you realize you were caught staring. "what're you doing here?" he asks, and doubt pools in your chest.

"i...i have a proposal," you say, nervously biting your lip as you look up at him.

dean's eyes track the movement, his jaw clenching as he flicks his gaze back up to your eyes, brows raising in question. "a proposal?"

you nod, shifting anxiously on your feet. you take a breath, forcing yourself to calm down as you smile nervously up at him. "can i come in?"

he doesn't say anything, just continues to stare at you, pushing off the doorway and stepping back, allowing you to walk by him. you step into the threshold of his room, forcing yourself to push away the nerves as you stand in front of the bed. your eyes follow him as he closes the door behind you, walking over to stand in front of you, arms still crossed over his chest as he looks down at you.

"so, what's this proposal of yours?" dean asks, the rough timbre of his voice sending a shiver up your spine. you snap out of it, meeting his gaze head on as you speak.

"okay, i was thinking about the mark, and the blood lust." you can see his jaw clench at the mention of the mark and your stomach flips, but you continue. "so i thought, what if...what if there was another way to channel that?"

something flickers in his eyes at your words, and he raises his eyebrows in curiosity. "what d'you mean?"

you swallow nervously, biting your lip as you consider what you're about to say. "before i say it, i just want you to know that if this makes you uncomfortable then i can just go and we'll pretend that this never happened and-"

dean cuts you off with a grunt of your name, tilting his head as he narrows his eyes at you. "just spit it out-"

"i want you to fuck me." the words come out of your mouth before you can stop them, both yours and dean's eyes widening at the bluntness of them.

"you want me to-"

"fuck me," you restate, deciding to just go with your forwardness. "i was thinking about what the mark makes you feel, and how it makes you turn that into blood lust, but then i thought about what if you could channel it into something else. give you some other way to let go."

dean doesn't say anything, just stands there, nostrils flaring and jaw clenched so tight your worried he's going to break something as he stares at you, eyes raking over your features as if something in them is going to tell him that you're joking.

you look away as you flush under his stare, regret and embarrassment seeping into your chest. when he still doesn't say anything, you shake your head, biting your lip as you turn to head back towards his door. "i knew this was stupid, i'm sorry-"

dean doesn't even give you the chance to finish your apology as he grabs your arm and spins you back into his chest, pulling a gasp from your lips.

"stop doing that," he growls, and when you look up into his eyes, they're so dark it makes your breath hitch. his hand that's not gripping your arm comes up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, tugging it lightly. "drivin' me fucking crazy."

you're too dazed by his sudden proximity to respond, the woody, leather filled scent that's so purely dean invading your senses and making you dizzy.

"let me get this straight," dean says, his voice low and slightly strained as he thumbs at your bottom lip, his eyes glued to the action. "you want me to fuck you, to get rid of the blood lust?"

you nod, lips parting automatically as he tugs at your bottom one, eyes wide as you stare up at him. "yea-yeah. it would still be letting that energy out, just in a different way," you tell him, your voice slightly breathless.

"and you want that?" he asks, eyes lingering on the way your lips brush his thumb as you speak before slipping back up to meet yours. "you want me to let go with you, sweetheart?"

you nod again, swallowing thickly as your mouth goes dry at the nickname. even though you'd heard it from his lips a thousand times before, this time it felt different, heavier, and you felt it weigh on your heart. "of course, if it'll help you-"

"no," dean cuts you off, growling your name and gripping your jaw tighter. "i'm asking you if you want this. not if you want to help me, i'm asking if you want me to fuck you, because if i won't touch you if you don't want this."

"i want this," you answer without hesitation, your voice breathy and your eyes wide, pupils blown with lust as you look up at him. "i wouldn't do this if i didn't want it."

dean groans, eyes clenching shut as if it's physically paining him to hold back, and his hand on your arm slides around your waist, tugging you flush against his chest. when he opens his eyes again, the sapphire green that wormed it's way into your heart is almost entirely swallowed by lust-blown black, the sight making your heart stutter.

"if we do this," he starts, his voice dangerously low. his hand caresses your waist before moving to your hip, gripping the flesh tightly through your clothes. "i'm not so sure 'm gonna be able to control myself. i don't wanna hurt you."

you shake your head, eyes determined as you hold his gaze, your hands coming up to his chest, fisting in his shirt and pulling him impossibly closer. "you're not gonna hurt me, dean," you whisper, pushing up on your tip-toes so that your lips are a breath away from his. "i want this, i want you to let go with me. i want you to use me."

dean just stares at you for a moment, his hand on your jaw moving to cup your cheek as his eyes bore into yours, jaw clenched and nostrils flared. as soon as his eyes flick back up to yours, something snaps in him and he surges forward, crashing his lips to yours.

you moan at the intensity of the kiss, your hands moving from his shirt to wind up into his hair, fingers tangling tightly in the still damp strands. his hands are suddenly everywhere, moving from your cheek to grip your hair, the hand on your hip slipping under your shirt to caress your bare skin, groaning against your lips when he finds that you're not wearing a bra.

your lips part instantly as you feel his tongue run along your bottom lip, moaning into his mouth as he tilts his head, running his tongue over your teeth before sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. your head is spinning as your teeth clash, your hands in his hair holding him tightly to you, arching your body into his.

when you both finally remember you need air, you pull back with a pop, a string of saliva connecting your now swollen lips. dean rests his forehead against yours, his hands finding a place at your hips, gripping them tightly as he catches his breath.

"last chance to back out," he breathes, looking at you with hooded eyes that make your knees weak.

"not a chance, winchester," you whisper back, your voice equally strained as you pant softly, trying to force air into your lungs.

dean groans at your words, and without hesitation, he slams his lips back to yours, one hand fisting in your hair as the other creeps up your back, pulling your shirt up with it until he has to pull away to tug it off you, throwing it somewhere. his pupils grow impossibly larger as he takes in your bare chest, your nipples pebbling as they're exposed to the cool air. his tongue darts out to wet his lips before he's on you, surging forward and capturing one of the hardened buds in his mouth.

you yelp softly at the sudden action, the sound melting into a moan as you arch into him, hands grasping at his hair to hold him to you.

"fuck, dean─" you gasp, head falling back as his tongue swirls around your sensitive skin, his hand coming up to cup your breast that his mouth isn't currently ravishing. after he's satisfied with the job he's done, he switches, bringing his mouth to your other breast, his hand moving to cup and grope the one his mouth had just been working at, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

when you whimper his name as he bites at your bud, he pulls himself away from your chest with a pop, lips slick and eyes blown as he looks down at you. you stare up at him, eyes wide and lips parted as you pant, just taking in the sight of him, so worked up over you.

"fuck," he groans, jaw clenching as his eyes greedily rake over your flushed features, his spit-slick bottom lip caught between his teeth. your hooded eyes follow the movement, your faces close enough that you can feel his breath on your heated skin, which sends a shiver up your spine.

you've seen dean shirtless many times─patching him up, or when motel rooms got too hot, but this was different. now, his toned chest was heaving with heavy breaths, his tan skin flushed with desire just for you.

you're staring, lips parted as you pant heavily, your eyes greedily raking over every inch of skin he's offering to you. your hands twitch to reach out, to feel every ridge, dip and curve of his body, and you're too far gone to deny yourself.

you rush forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and attaching your mouth to his neck. your lips trail up his neck, sucking at a spot under his jaw that has him groaning your name in a way that makes your knees weak. you're sure you would've collapsed by now if dean's arms weren't wrapped so tightly around your waist you could feel his biceps flex against your skin as your mouth ravished his neck and up to his jaw.

you're craning your neck to reach his skin, and you're body feels so hot you're worried that it's going to burst into flames if you don't do something about it. the chorus of more, more, more chants in your head, fueling your trembling legs as the walk forward, walking dean backwards until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed.

he falls to sit on the bed with a grunt, his grip never loosening around you as you follow him, crawling into his lap eagerly, moaning into his neck when his bare chest presses against yours. you arch against him as you bite and suck on his neck, lips trailing down to nip at his collarbone, leaving a path of spit behind you.

"shit─need t'feel you, baby," dean rasps, his hands moving to grip your hips tightly, grinding you down onto him. you whimper in agreement, reluctantly pulling away from his salty skin, licking your lips to savor the taste of him.

you sit yourself up on your knees in his lap, cupping his face in your hands as you tilt his head back to look up at you, your thumb tugging at his bottom lip just as he did to you before. just the sight of him sends a wave of aching desire between your legs, your panties growing wetter by the second.

dean looks absolutely wrecked. his plush lips are parted and spit-slick, swollen from your bruising kisses, the white of his teeth peeking through the brightened pink as he pants heavily. his hooded eyes are so dark, the mossy green almost completely gone as he stares up at you with such reverence it makes your pounding heart stutter in your chest.

his rough hand squeezing your hips brings your attention back to the moment as he turns his head into your touch, lips ghosting your palm, his eyes staying locked on yours.

"c'mon, sweetheart," dean groans, his voice almost breathless as he squeezes your hip again, the action almost pleading. "can't take this anymore, just need you, need t'feel that pretty pussy 'round me."

his words make you moan softly, but they snap you into action. you scramble off his lap, stepping back from the cage of his legs as you hook your fingers in the waistband of your sleep shorts, bending over towards him as you tug them down, shimmying them over your hips and thighs until they fall to the floor.

dean's eyes hungrily watch your every movement, jaw clenching tightly and a low groan escaping his lips as the delicate red lace of your panties is exposed to him.

"son of a bitch," he mutters, his voice a breathless whisper so quiet you almost miss it.

feeling spurred on by his words, you step out of your shorts, leaving them on the floor as you stand between his legs again and start to sink down, your mouth watering at the thought of tasting him. but his arm shoots out to grab yours, stopping you from dropping to your knees with a grip so tight you think it might leave bruises. your pussy clenches at the thought, the idea of looking in the mirror and seeing the mark of him on your skin, as a reminder of this chance you may never have again, nearly making your eyes roll back.

"no, no," dean practically snarls, straightening you up as his hands go to the waistband of your panties, ripping them from your body with a ferocity that makes you gasp. "next time baby, i promise, i'll let you use your fuckin' gorgeous mouth on me, but right now i need to fuck that pretty pussy until you can't even think anything but my name."

a breath leaves your lungs in a shaky gasp, the filthiness of his words making your head spin.

"okay─" is all you can manage, your voice shaking as he tugs you back into his lap, groaning when he feels your bare, hot core against his still clothed and straining cock. he doesn't hold the position long though, because in a blink of an eye, he has you flat on your back, breasts heaving as you stare up at him, your eyes wide and needy.

you part your lips to comment something about how he still has pants on, but the words catch in your throat as a moan when his fingers suddenly swipe through your weeping heat. you arch your back against the mattress, trying to push yourself up against his fingers as they circle your throbbing clit, sending sparks of pleasure behind your eyes.

"that's it, that's my girl─ fuck, you're so fuckin' pretty," dean praises, leaning over you to suck one of your peaked nipples into heated mouth.

his words make you whimper, and your hips buck up desperately into his hand, chasing the burning pleasure he's making you feel. "shit, dean, please, please─"

your whines are cut off into a moan when he plunges the same fingers that had been working your aching bud into your sopping cunt, your walls instantly tightening around his digits.

"i know, pretty girl, i know," he croons, his raspy voice muffled against the heated skin of your chest. his plush lips trailing up to your neck, his stubble scratching at your sensitive skin as he noses under your ear, teeth tugging gently at your earlobe. "jus' give me one before i fuck you, yeah? wanna feel you come around my fingers before i fuck you stupid on my cock."

you whimper in response, tossing your head back against the mattress with a moan as he drives his fingers into your heat again and again, curling them just right to hit that gummy spot deep within you that makes your toes curl.

"oh god, oh god─" you babble, eyes squeezing shut as you feel the band in your stomach tightening, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. "dean, close, m'so close─"

your words only encourage him, his teeth tugging at your ear once more before he trails them up to your jaw, resting his forehead against your cheek. he presses his lips to the burning skin there as his thumb moves to circle your clit, making you cry out under him, your hands flaying to his shoulders, nails digging into the taut skin as you buck against his hand.

"yeah? y'gonna cum, baby? gonna soak my fingers like the good girl you are?" dean coos, lips moving against your cheek, letting his teeth graze your skin. "c'mon, pretty girl, cum on my fingers so this perfect fucking pussy can take me like she needs to."

you fly over the edge with a cry of his name, eyes rolling back and spine arching as your orgasm crashes over you, stealing the air from your lungs. your legs tremble around him, and you can feel his smug smirk against your cheek, your mind too fuzzy to comprehend the words he mumbles against your skin.

his fingers don't stop, working your soaked pussy until your whining, squirming away from his touch as your eyes flutter open, mouth slack as you gasp for breath. your eyes flick up to dean as he moves his face to hover over yours, and his hand has moved but he's not saying anything, and he's just staring at you, and the reverence in his eyes makes you want to shrink, but there's nowhere for you to go.

"dean," you whisper, your voice still shaking and barely audible as your eyes search his, trying to read his expression. he still doesn't say anything, just watching you with his devastatingly beautiful eyes and making you feel like he's worshipping you with his gaze. "what's wrong? do-do you want to stop─"

"do you know," dean mumbles your name, cutting you off effectively. "how fucking beautiful you are?"

the unexpected compliment makes your breath hitch, your heart pounding so loudly in your chest you're sure he can hear it. all you can do is stare up at him, and he's so close you can count every freckle on his impossibly perfect face, the moment so intimate it makes your heart clench in your chest.

"you drive me goddamn crazy," he continues, pushing himself up to stand between your legs that hang off the edge of the bed. his hands drift down to the waistband of his pants, pushing them and his boxers down in one swift movement, his eyes never leaving yours as he kicks them away. "you make me forget everything, y'know that? you make me forget about this damn mark on my arm, you're in my head and then suddenly, all the mark wants is you."

your eyes drift down to between his legs, your mouth watering as you see his cock, hard and heavy in front of you, already red and leaking precum. when you continue to stare, dean leans over you again, grasping your chin in his hand, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"i mean, fuck, just look at you, sweetheart," he breathes, his gaze raking over you, lingering on your heaving breasts before flicking back up to meet your eyes. "look so fucking gorgeous...all fucked out 'n stupid just from my fingers."

you only whimper in response, the sound breathless and soft as your spinning head tries to process his words. "please, dean," you rasp, your pleading eyes searching his, lifting your hips up to try and feel hi until he groans softly, eyes fluttering. "need you, please, fuck me.."

he stares at you for another moment, his jaw ticking and you can feel his cock twitch against your inner thigh. he finally moves again, reaching out and grabbing a pillow, lifting your hips and placing it under you. when he decides you're properly situated, he settles between your spread thighs, grasping one tightly in one hand while the other pumps himself slowly. he leans over you, guiding himself to your weeping entrance as your hands fly to his shoulders, grasping at the hard muscles.

he suddenly stops just before his leaking head brushed your folds, the hand on your thigh tightening as his eyes flick up to yours. "condom?" he asks, his voice strained as he forces himself to hold back.

you shake your head, biting your lip as you watch the way his pupils dilate, the sight making your aching core clench around nothing. "wanna feel you, all of you."

"fuck," he groans, his eyes slipping shut as he pumps himself faster, lining up with your aching pussy again. "baby, you're gonna be the death 'f me."

you just hum in response, your eyes glued to where he rubs his red, swollen tip through your puffy folds. with one more squeeze of your thigh, he pushes in, punching harmonic moans out of both of you. your back arches, eyes rolling back as your tight walls stretch around him, the pleasurable burn making your nails dig into his skin.

dean watches you, eyes wide and blown so dark with desire he looks almost crazed, staying still as he lets you adjust to the feeling of him inside you. "that's it, look at you, takin' me so well," he praises, rolling his hips gently to see your reaction.

"ohh shit," you moan, a gasping whimper catching in your throat when he rolls his hips again. he grasps your hips with both hands as leans over you, his bare chest pressing against yours. he stays like that, keeping still longer than he did before, and it doesn't take long until your squirming under him, whimpering softly as you grasp at his shoulders. "move, dean, please─"

as soon as the plea leaves your swollen lips, his hips snap harshly against yours, making you cry out, your eyes flying open to meet his. your mouth goes slack, lips parted in a silent scream and your brow furrowing as he pistons his hips into you, changing angles slightly until he hits that gummy spot deep in you that makes you cry out his name.

"yeah, yeah, i know, pretty girl, that's it right there, huh?" dean's voice is strained, the words a groan against your lips as he licks into your slack mouth, making you mewl under him, the sound only encouraging him to go faster. "squeezin' me so tight, shit, perfect fucking pussy was made for me, fuck─"

he pounds into you mercilessly, your tight walls tightening around his cock, sucking him in as his tip hits your cervix, making stars flash in your eyes. you swear you can feel him everywhere. his hot breath against your parted lips, calloused hands gripping your thighs and sliding up to your chest to pinch and tweak at your hardened buds, his cock making you so full you swear you can feel him in your throat.

you can feel your release creeping up on you, your hands slipping down to grip his biceps, moaning when the muscles flex under your touch. dean seems to sense that you're getting close, and he moves one hand from your chest, trailing his fingers down your torso until he reaches your clit, rubbing tight circles on the aching bud.

the sudden overwhelming pleasure makes you cry out, eyes rolling back as you claw at his skin, broken mewls and gasps leaving your lips. "dean-!"

"yeah, fuck, beautiful, say my name," he groans, dropping his head to your neck, his hips never faltering their bruising pace. "want you scream it when you cum around my cock."

"oh shit," you gasp, hands flying to his back, nails dragging down his skin as you feel yourself getting dangerously close to the edge. "close, shit, m'close dean─"

"yeah, i know, baby, can feel you squeezing me." his fingers speed up on your throbbing clit, and with just the smallest bit of added pressure, the band in you snaps. hard.

you think you scream, but your brain shuts off as your orgasm crashes through you, the pleasure mind-numbing and paralyzing. dean continues to fuck you through it, his hips faltering as he feels your walls clamp down on him with your release.

"fuck, that's it. good girl, good fucking girl," he grunts your name into your neck, his voice strained as you feel him twitch in you, his thrusts just extending your orgasm and melting into another one. "you don't know how fucking long 've wanted this. your perfect fucking pussy gripping me so tight, fuck─ you were made for me, fucking made for my cock, never gonna let you go after this, ngh, you're mine now, sweetheart. all fucking mine."

he continues to babble as his hips falter, lifting his head from your neck to crash his lips to yours, devouring your mouth with his teeth and tongue.

"gonna cum in your tight fuckin' pussy, gonna fill you up, make you feel me for days." you whimper into his mouth, the two of you more so just panting into each other's mouths rather than kissing.

"please, dean, need it, need you so bad," you moan, feeling that band tighten once more. "wanna feel you, please, please─"

"oh fuck, gonna cum," he gasps your name into your mouth, his grip on your hips tightening, and somewhere in the back of your fucked out brain you register that there are definitely going to be bruises there tomorrow. "fuck, m'gonna cum─"

he thrusts once, twice, burying his face in your neck and then his hips still, pressing his cock as deep into you as he can get as he twitches, groaning loudly as he spills into you, his release hot and heavenly in your tight walls. the feelings sends you over the edge again, a weak, broken cry leaving you as your vision practically goes white with pleasure.

you stay like that, trembling and panting softly under him, your eyes hooded and hazy, your shaking hands slipping from his shoulders and falling to his biceps weakly. for a long moment, dean doesn't move, just breathing heavily into the crook of your neck, his lips brushing your sensitive skin with every breath.

eventually, he shifts his hips, moving to pull out, and the movement makes you whimper from the oversensitivity. instantly, dean pulls back from your neck, his brow furrowed as he looks down at you, his gaze filled with concern.

"shit, did i hurt you?" he asks, and you can hear the panic creeping into his tone. "i'm so sorry sweetheart, i didn't mean to─"

you cut him off with a shake of your head, forcing your eyes to focus as you look up at him, a weak, fucked-out smile forming on your lips. "you didn't hurt me, dean," you assure him, your voice raspy. "i'm fine, just sensitive."

"oh okay," he says, nodding and lets out a breath as if he'd been holding it.

he takes another moment, eyes raking over your face again, and he looks like hes't going to say something, but he bites his lip, pushing down whatever it is. slowly, he lifts himself on his arms, pushing up so he's almost sitting, squeezing your thigh comfortingly as he pulls out. you wince slightly at the movement, shivering when you feel his release dripping from your spent cunt.

he pulls away from you completely, standing up and walking over to the corner of his room and your stomach sinks as you watch him rifle through his stuff. you knew this was coming, the part where he awkwardly mumbled a thank you and you take his rejection without a word, making the walk of shame back to your own room, and you never speak of this again.

you can feel the familiar burn of tears forming behind your eyelids as you push yourself up, placing your feet on the ground. you don't look up at him as you lean over, grabbing your discarded shirt from the floor. you bite your lip anxiously as you stand up from the bed, intending to put your shirt on only to stumble and sway as your weak legs shake under you.

"woah, woah─" dean's arm comes around your waist, catching you before you can fall and you lean against him without really meaning to sighing at the warmth of his chest. "where do you think you're goin'?"

he turns you in his arms so your chest to chest with him, and you keep your eyes glued to his anti-posession tattoo, not quite ready to look him in the eyes and see the rejection. "i'll just get dressed and go back to my room─"

"hey, what? no," he interrupts, confusion lacing his words. his hand moves to cup your chin, tilting your head up until you have no choice but to look into his eyes. his brow is furrowed, and you have the sudden need to reach up and smooth the crease with your fingers. "why would you do that?"

your lips part to speak, but no words come out as the intense emotions in his eyes steal your breath.

dean says your name in a low voice, his gaze roaming over your face as his thumb stroked your cheek gently. "did you think i was gonna kick you out?"

"i...i didn't think you'd want me to stay," you admit in a breathless voice, eyes wide as you stare up at him.

he doesn't say anything for a moment, just gazing down at you as his hand raises to brush some of your hair away from your face, and if hekeeps looking at you like that you think you might catch on fire. "i meant what i said."

the words are so simple, so blunt that you don't know what he's referring to. "what are you talking about?" you ask, slightly breathless as your brow furrows in confusion.

"what i said, earlier, i meant it," dean repeats, the hand that's not cupping your chin raising to your forehead, his thumb stroking at the crease between your brows, the tenderness making your breath hitch. "i've wanted you, wanted this for so long, sweetheart."

his words stop your heart, and you look up at him with wide, shocked eyes. you can feel your pulse pounding in your chest, your shirt in your hand falling to the floor as your lips part in shock. "you have?"

"yeah," he mutters your name, both of his hands moving to cup your face now, and you subconsciously lean into his touch, making him smile softly. "i have. i'm honestly surprised you didn't notice before. even cas said i was bein' obvious."

your head reels from his confession, the words processing in your still slightly hazy mind. "you...what?" you ask, still staring up at him with wide eyes.

"i mean, hell, how could i not want you?" dean chuckles, almost to himself as he gazes down at you. "you're smart, 'nd funny, and you could kick my ass any day of the week. not to mention you're so fucking beautiful it makes me weak."

"you...you really mean that?" you ask, brow furrowing in doubt. "you're not fucking with me?"

he shakes his head, smiling down at you as his thumbs continue to caress your cheeks affectionately. "you, this...it's all ive wanted for a long time."

"i..." you start, unsure of what to say as you search his expression for any hint of him lying. when you find none, a smile matching his spreads across your lips, and you lean into his touch, bringing a hand up to rest over his. "ive wanted this too. for a while, actually."

dean grins at you─a real, wide, boyish grin that lights up his ethereal features, making your heart stutter in your chest. "i guess we're both idiots then."

"i guess we are..." you agree, pushing up on your tip toes to ghost your lips over his. you hover there, just breathing him in, eyes flicking between his before you close the gap, pressing your lips softly to his.

its nothing like the kisses you shared before. in fact, it's really just the gentle press of your lips to his, savoring the way his smile feels against you, and you suddenly don't know how you've lived your whole life without kissing dean winchester like this. you certainly don't think you can live without it now that you've experienced it.

after a few savored moments, you pull away, smile staying on your lips as your eyes flutter open. your hand slides along his arm, and you feel him tense when your fingers brush over the mark.

"i trust you, dean," you whisper, curling your fingers over the raised skin, squeezing his forearm lightly. "i know you would never hurt me, and i need you to know that im not going to leave."

"but-" he starts, but you cut him off by raising your free hand to press a finger to his lips.

"no buts," you counter, shifting your hand to cup his cheek, smiling lovingly at him. "just because you think you're dammed doesn't mean you actually are. because you aren't. no matter what you think of yourself, it will never change the fact that you, dean winchester, are the good man. the best man ive ever known, and ill be damned if i let you think any less than that."

"sweetheart..."

"stop. don't fight me on this─"

"i wasn't gonna fight you─"

"yes you were, i could see it─"

he says your name, low and serious, but there's still a soft smile on his face. "you're too damn good for me."

"what did i just say─"

"just let me say this, will you?" he says, giving you a look that makes you shut your mouth, eyes locked on his. he sighs, just staring at you for a moment before he speaks again, his voice softer than you've ever heard it. "youre too good for me, i know that. you're too smart, too kind, just too damn good. but damnit, i want to be selfish so bad and keep you for myself."

you just smile at him, eyes slipping shut as you lean up again to kiss him a little deeper than the one before, but still soft nonetheless. "you have me, dean," you whisper against his lips, your eyes still closed. "you've always had me."

"i don't want to hurt you," he mumbles, and you can feel his furrowed brow as he leans his forehead against yours.

"you won't hurt me."

"you don't know that─"

"yes, i do." your tone is sharp, and it makes his eyes snap open to meet yours again. at this proximity, you can see the specks of gold that flicker in the deep emerald that makes your heart skip a beat. "we'll figure this out, dean. we'll get through this and get that damn mark off you. we'll figure this out, together."

dean smiles at that, a soft, relieved curve of his lips that makes the corners of his eyes crease. he looks at you with so much emotion and affection that you want to just crumble into him and never let him go, hide him away from the world so that it can't hurt him more than it has. "together," he repeats, his voice a hushed whisper.

you can tell that he believes you, and the thought makes pride swell in your chest. you may not know much about your fucked up lives at the moment, but the one thing you know for sure is that you were never going to let dean go through it alone. ever.

a/n, this ended up being way longer than i intended, but oh well. anyways, i can't get moc!dean out of my head, so here we are... and happy late new years!

ps, the end was written at 3 in the morning (again) so i sincerely apologize if the ending is rushed

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - chapter 1

(Rafe Cameron x Reader, series, 3.9k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

The drive down to Miami was idyllic. Windows rolled down, you and Carter sang along to the playlist you’d made for the trip and ate your favorite childhood snacks. Blue skies above you as Carter’s new Jeep flew down the coast, you actually started to feel excited for the week ahead.

Then, you pulled up to the Airbnb, and it all faded.

The second you saw all of Carter’s high school friends in the driveway, unpacking their cars and exchanging hugs, it all came rushing back. The way you felt like you never really fit in, how they’d tease you for being quiet, how the boys’ eyes would skip right over you in search of your sister.

Carter turned down the radio when she noticed the way you were biting your lip with trepidation.

“It’s gonna be fun,” she tried to assure you. “Promise.”

You put on your best fake smile, determined to make this a good week for her. After everything she’s done for you, if all she wanted in return was a fun week at the beach, you’d give her that. You pushed your anxiety down as best as you could and hopped out of the Jeep.

“Oh shit!” Topper called, standing at the open trunk of his Range Rover. “Is that who I think it is?”

He rushed over, sweeping Carter up and throwing her over his shoulder.

“Put me down, Top!” She yelped, not entirely convincing that she wanted him to.

He set her down and smiled wide at her, just as smitten as ever. She gave him a playful pat on the head, like a dog, and went to get the bags from her car. Topper’s eyes shifted over to you and his jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

“No way, Little Carter is that you?” He teased, using your least favorite nickname.

“What’s up, Topper?” You tried to sound unannoyed.

Before he could answer, still slightly gawking at you, another voice emerged from the front door of the house.

“Yo who is it, Top?” Kelce yelled down from the top of the front steps.

“Come see for yourself, jackass!” Topper shouted back.

Kelce hopped down from the top step and approached you in the driveway, throwing his arm around Topper’s shoulder.

“No fucking way,” he said, when it finally dawned on him who you were. He looked you up and down and added, “what do they put in the water at that fancy school of yours?”

“Smoothe, man,” Topper smirked at him.

Your cheeks burned, you rolled your eyes at them to try and seem unaffected. They had never talked to you like this before. The majority of your interactions with Topper and Kelce in high school consisted of them teasing you about Rafe and asking where your sister was. They never even came close to flirting with you, and now you couldn’t decide whether you liked it or not.

“Can you two stop drooling over my baby sister and come help me with these fucking bags?” Carter called to them from the back of her Jeep.

“Yes ma’am,” Kelce winked at you before going to help your sister carry in the hundreds of dollars worth of beer she’d made you stop to pick up on the way here.

“You assholes better pay us back,” she told them, passing Topper a couple of 12 packs.

“Okay, give me your sister’s number and I’ll Venmo her right now,” he responded with a smirk.

You actually laughed at that one, which caused his chest to puff out with pride. Boys had always been somewhat of a mystery to you, but these two were painfully easy. Their playfulness helped you relax a little, wondering if this week might not be so bad after all.

Once you were inside, you and Carter each chose your own rooms, all your recently opened trust funds allowing you to rent the biggest house in the neighborhood. After unpacking, you walked down to the beach with Topper, Kelce, a couple of Carter’s girlfriends, and a guy you’d never met.

Topper and Kelce introduced him as their friend from college, a frat brother. His name was Tom, he was on the taller side, brunette, super cute. The way his toned arms flexed in his sleeveless shirt was the first thing you saw, but his bright, dimpled smile is what really caught your attention.

When you told him your name, offering him your hand to shake, he held it for a few seconds longer than any of the other girls and Carter gave you a knowing look. You’d never wished so badly that you knew how to turn off your blush.

Once you got down to the water, you helped Carter set up the umbrella and volleyball net you’d brought. You played intramural volleyball for your college and had actually gotten really good at it, you were excited to play with Carter, who’d always wanted you to get into sports with her.

When everything was set-up, you started to take off the bathing suit cover you had on over your bikini, but quickly realized there was a problem.

“Shit, Car, did we even bring sunscreen?” You asked your sister.

“Fuuuuck,” Carter said with a careless giggle. “Guess we’ll just burn.”

“Um no, I’m not listening to you whine about your sunburn all week,” you scolded her. “Top, did you bring sunscreen?”

“I hate to say no to you, beautiful, but…no,” Topper answered.

“Great, so we have eight hundred Natty Lights but no sunscreen,” you huffed.

“Sounds like a perfect vacation to me,” Kelce joked, already cracking his first beer.

“I brought some sunscreen,” Tom offered helpfully.

“Ah, my hero!” you smiled at him playfully.

You could feel all eyes on you when you said it. None of them had ever seen you flirt so comfortably before, or really even heard you speak. This was the person you were at school, but they had never met her before. You cleared your throat, feeling uncomfortable.

“Could I borrow some?” You asked Tom, who appeared oblivious to the shift in atmosphere.

“Yeah, it’s up at the house, I’ll go grab it!” You watched him run up the beach, his toned back muscles flexing, Carter bumped her hip into yours.

“Five minutes and he’s already whipped for you,” she teased. “Told you this trip was a good idea.”

By the time Rafe finally pulled up to the house in his truck, all the rooms had been claimed except for the shitty basement, with its low ceiling and lone twin sized bed. After dropping his bags, scowling at the mildew smell in the small space, he filled one of the coolers he brought with some imported beers and white claws and headed toward the beach.

“Yo, Top!” He called from the back porch, beckoning Topper up from the beach to help him carry the heavy cooler.

“Jesus, what you got in here?”  Topper grunted, struggling to lift his side of the cooler.

“Nicer shit than anything you brought,” Rafe said. “I’m not drinking cheap gas station beers all week.”

“Fine by me man,” Topper added a second hand to the cooler to help him lift it.

As they carried the cooler down the beach, Rafe mocking Topper for his inability to lift his share of the weight, Rafe scanned the private section of the beach to take a manual headcount of his housemates for the week.

He saw everyone he expected, the same people that would gather at the island club every time there was a break from school, the party always finding its way back to Tannyhill. The same girls that hung around him and his friends in high school, Carter, who he had never gotten along with, Kelce, who he had seen just last week, and…someone he didn’t recognize.

The mystery girl was facing away from him, but he could still tell she was gorgeous. Her bathing suit wrap hugging her body, her shiny, bouncy hair flowing in the ocean breeze. She bent down to set up her beach chair and he nearly dropped the cooler. 

“Woah, man,” Topper laughed. “Now who’s got butterfingers?”

“Who is that?” Rafe asked sternly, ignoring Topper’s harassment. 

“Dude, are you serious?” Topper eyed him.

Before Rafe could ask what Topper meant, you turned around, looking up towards the house in his direction, shielding the sun from your eyes and smiling a big, beautiful smile.

This time, Rafe really did drop the cooler. It was you. He hadn’t seen you in four years, and nobody told him you were coming on this trip. Nobody told him you looked like that now, either.

Everything that happened between you was so long ago, but he assumed you still hated him. But now, you were looking right at him and smiling. His lips started to turn upward for a moment and he almost lifted his hand to wave at you, when someone bumped into his shoulder.

“Shit, my bad man,” Tom said, his eyes not even looking at Rafe, glued to you. He ran off and approached you, and Rafe realized with a punch to his gut, it was this random guy you were smiling at and not him.

Rafe and Topper dragged the cooler a bit farther down the beach, dropping it behind all the umbrellas. Rafe immediately grabbed one of his expensive IPAs and twisted it open, throwing back a sip bitterly as he watched Tom hand you something, you smiled and touched his arm gratefully.

Carter approached the boys and the cooler, following Rafe’s eyes to you. She twisted her lips, trying to hide her smile, everything about this day going exactly as she had planned.

“Hey, Rafe,” She smirked. “You good?”

Rafe looked at her, eyes narrow as he tried to catch her meaning. When he realized she had caught him staring, he cleared his throat and took another sip of his beer, trying to seem nonchalant. 

“Fine,” he mumbled.

Rafe reached in the cooler and grabbed a white claw, offering it to Carter. Things had always been chilly between them, though they’d still been cordial with each other. Aside from that big argument senior year which they never talked about. Now, it hung in the salty air so prevalently, your presence after all this time stirring up old tensions.

Carter accepted the drink with a thank you, cracking it open and looking back to you. Both Carter and Rafe’s eyes went wide when you took off your cover-up, revealing a barely-there bikini and the new body none of your high school friends had seen yet. 

Everyone on the private beach was staring at you, but Rafe was staring at you, his knuckles going white around his beer as he eyed you up and down. His heart pounded so loudly in his chest he was afraid Carter and Topper would be able to hear it. Then, when you handed Tom the sunscreen and asked him to rub it on your back, an unfamiliar feeling bubbled in Rafe’s stomach and crawled up to his chest. He glared at Topper.

“Who the fuck is that guy?” He barked.

Carter and Topper’s heads both snapped towards him, neither surprised to hear the usual edge in his voice, though while Topper looked at Rafe with concern, Carter’s face only portrayed pure amusement.

“Who, Tom?” Topper asked, watching as Rafe’s eyeline returned to you, starting to catch on to the source of Rafe’s irritability. “He’s a brother from Alpha Tau.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a high school reunion trip,” Rafe snapped at him.

“Wow, someone’s pressed,” Carter beamed at him, delighted in his discomfort.

“I’m fine, just didn’t know we could invite people, that’s all,” he insisted.

“Sure, Rafey, that’s all,” she goaded him.

Rafe and Carter gave each other a knowing look, Topper’s eyes flashing between them, utterly out of the loop.

“What did I miss?” He prodded.

“Nothing,” Carter assured him. “Let’s play chicken, you’re on my team, Topper.”

“Oh hell yes,” he dashed after her like an excited puppy.

Rafe ignored the interaction, eyes glued to you in the distance as you settled into your beach chair and pulled out a book, Tom leaving your side and heading toward the water to join the game that had started. Rafe smiled, of course you were reading while everyone else was partying. Maybe you hadn’t changed that much after all. 

The spine of the brand new book cracked as you opened it, you sighed happily, loving the sound. You rarely ever got to read just for fun, always so busy with schoolwork, and you were so excited to dig into the fluffy romance you’d bought off tiktok and turn your brain off.

But then, just as your eyes grazed over the first sentence, you heard a voice from behind you that made your sun-kissed skin go cold.

“Whatcha readin’?” Rafe asked, his tall frame casting a shadow over your sunbathing spot.

You had pretended not to see him when he arrived a few minutes ago, throwing your attention at Tom instead, who took it happily, no idea that he was just a distraction from the flips your stomach was doing at Rafe’s arrival. You actually thought for a minute you might be able to avoid him this whole trip, but of course, he was pouncing as soon as you were alone. He always preferred talking to you when no one was around, sharing hours of meaningful late night conversations together, yet ignoring you at parties and in the halls at school as if you barely knew each other.

You closed the book slowly and placed it in your lap, any clever words you had to say to him flew suddenly from your brain. Regret swept over you, it was foolish to think you could pretend to be unaffected by his presence. He’d said two words to you and you were already nervous, overthinking every movement you made.

When you didn’t answer him, Rafe took it upon himself to plop down in the beach chair next to you, leaning over to read the title of your book.

“Is it any good?” You still didn’t look at him, but you could hear the teasing smile in his voice.

“Wouldn’t know,” you looked down at your lap. “Just started it.”

“Well let me know what you think, might need to borrow it,” he kept his eyes on you, running over your body, making his own face go warm.

“Since when do you read?” You finally lifted your eyes to him.

Rafe’s jaw went slightly slack, all the swagger he’d brought on this trip with him suddenly disappearing. You were even prettier up close, your features more defined and striking than he remembered.

“People can change,” he finally mustered up, less bravado in his voice.

You gave yourself exactly three seconds to look at him, eyes sweeping quickly over his nose, lips, chin, anything but his eyes. His eyes were like a prison you’d once been held in, and you swore you’d never go back.

After your three seconds were up, you shifted your gaze to the ocean, hating that you wished you had three more to take him in. He was just as, if not more, gorgeous as you remembered. His features somehow sharp and soft at the same time. His lips pink and soft, skin a golden bronze even though the summer had just started. His hair was a little shorter now, but still long enough to stick up in the back in that messy way you liked.

The familiar red hue crept up your neck slowly, making its way to your cheekbones. You needed him to get up and leave you alone before you broke into an all out blush. You picked up your book and pretended to start reading again.

“You should go play with everyone else, looks like Kelce could use someone on his team,” you threw out, hoping he’d take the hint.

“What if I’d rather stay here and talk to you?” He asked, voice dropping just a hint.

You thought you could handle this, but you couldn’t. Was he seriously flirting with you right now? If you knew Rafe, the second you tried to flirt back, he’d grow uninterested and blow you off. With him, it was always like he convinced you to jump off a cliff with him, but then at the last second, he’d step back, watching apathetically as you fell all alone.

“I need to go unpack,” you said, standing from your chair and grabbing your book and beach bag, knowing full well your stuff was already neatly sorted in your room.

He looked up at you as you collected your stuff, and you hated the way you were sucking in your stomach. You spent four years working hard to love your body the way it was, and now, in front of him, all that self-consciousness came flooding back. 

You hurried away, catching Carter’s eye as you beelined for the house.

“Where are you going?” She said, slightly out of breath by the time she caught up to you.

“I can’t do this,” you explained, still walking fast.

“Wait,” she grabbed your arm, causing you to halt, hot sand burning your feet. “What happened?”

“He’s here,” you didn’t have to explain any further for her to understand.

“I know,” she said sympathetically. “But we knew he would be. We’re gonna ignore him, remember?”

“I don’t think I can, Car,” you sighed. “I think I should just go.” 

“No, please please please don’t go,” she begged. “I need you here. And you were having fun before, right? Tom’s cute! Just hang out with us and tell Rafe to go fuck himself.”

“That sounds more like something you’d say than me,” you smiled at her.

“Okay, fine,” she agreed. “I’ll tell him to fuck himself and to leave you alone.”

“No, don’t, I don’t want to cause any drama,” you requested.

“Well I think storming out twenty minutes after we got here would be pretty dramatic,” she argued.

Your lips in a tight line, you gave her an annoyed look, but she did kind of have a point. Everyone would ask why you left, and how would Carter explain it to them? Plus, you didn’t want to give Rafe the satisfaction of knowing he affected you this much.

“We’re about to play volleyball,” Carter said. “Come show them what a beast you are now! And then after you kick everyone’s ass, if you’re still miserable, you can leave and I’ll tell everyone you got sick.”

You squinted back at the group on the beach, considering her offer. Topper and Kelce were wrestling in the sand, somehow both losing. You smiled affectionately at their antics, you were really enjoying hanging out with them before Rafe got here.

“Okay, fine,” you agreed. “One game.”

It took half of one volley for you to get comfortable, head fully in the game. You were tempted to put your cover-up back on before playing, well aware of Rafe’s eyes on you through the net, but you decided not to, determined to love yourself the same way you had grown to when you thought you’d never see him again.

Tom was on Rafe’s team, also eyeing you through the net, but with a much more innocent, friendly expression.

“You’re pretty good!” He said when you’d spiked a ball into the sand right next to him.

“Thank you,” you smiled sweetly. “I play at school.”

“Hey man, stop flirting with our opponent and focus,” Rafe snapped at him from the serving line.

Tom just raised his eyebrows at you in amusement and mouthed “I’m in trouble.” You giggled and Rafe seethed, slamming the ball so hard on his next serve that his hand was red. 

After a few more volleys, you had rotated until you and Rafe were face to face across the net again. As you waited for one of your sister’s friends, Sabrina, to make her third attempt at serving, Rafe eyed you up and down.

“You look good,” he said quietly, so only you could hear.

It lit a fire in you, but not the one he was hoping for. You locked-in, bent low in a competitive stance, ready for the setter to tee you up. When Sabrina finally made her serve, you went all out, diving in the sand and running all over the court to keep the ball in play. Rafe’s athletic instincts took over, and he met every one of your attempts to score with a firm block. Eventually, your lungs burning with your heavy breathing, Rafe spiked the ball and you slipped in the sand, letting it get past you and land next to your feet with a thud.

You looked up at Rafe, who was high fiving his teammates and looking down at you with a smirk. He ducked under the net and reached out a hand to help you up.

“Sorry, kid,” he grinned as he lifted you to your feet. “I’m just that good.”

Kid. It all came back as you stared at him. The hours spent in your car, waiting for him dutifully. All the late night texts that meant everything to you and nothing to him. The cheek kisses and side hugs that fueled your fantasies. His hands around Cassie’s waist as he kissed her in broad daylight, though he’d only talk to you behind closed doors. 

Your cheeks turned red as they so often did, but this time, it wasn’t from embarrassment, it was from anger. He wouldn’t make you feel small anymore, you wouldn’t let him.

You turned to your team to fire them up, “let’s go, fucking lock in guys! You got me Top?”

Topper nodded with excitement, loving your new energy, as he got ready for his turn to serve.

“Fuck yeah, I got you, captain,” he saluted you.

Topper served. Rafe tried to dominate again but you were two seconds ahead of him on every play. Now it was you that had him diving around in the sand like an idiot. The smug smile wiped from his face, his jaw now clenched in frustration as he grunted with effort every time he hit the ball.

You were on fire, un-fucking-stoppable. After a few more volleys, your team was winning, one point from game.

You wiped the back of your hand across your forehead and down your neck, flicking off the sweat that had pooled. You felt two sets of eyes on you, Tom’s and Rafe’s, but you didn’t care, laser focused on your next play. When you lifted off the ground, body stretching to reach for the ball, you threw every frustration into the hit, hand colliding with the ball as hard as it could. Rafe dove, but he couldn’t get it, he crashed down hard, sand flying in his face as he whiffed, and you won the game.

Your side of the net broke into cheers, high fiving and whooping obnoxiously. Tom approached the net to offer his sportsmanlike congratulations, but you didn’t notice him, already making your way towards Rafe, who still sat defeated on the ground, eyes burning from the sand.

He smiled as you approached, reaching out his hand, thinking you were gonna help him up. But you just stepped around him, bending down, lowering your voice so only he could hear as you said,

“Sorry, kid, but I’m better.”

You left him sitting there, hand reaching for nobody like an idiot, dumbstruck and down bad as you sauntered up the beach.

(chapter 2)

a/n: I know I literally just posted the prologue but I didn't want to wait to get into the actual story. I'd love to hear what you think and where you want to see the story go! xoxo

please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

[sugoi-writes]

Hi, i have a proposition for you...

Alastor catching himself bleating whenever reader touches him 👀

(i just find it so adorable when he squeaks like a little fawn when Rosie pulls him in that one scene and the theory that he does that only when he's happy and with a person he feels comfortable with)

Gdhdhd I had discovered this a while back, and the idea THRILLS me. To no fucking end! I hope this is okay and worth the wait! (Two Fics in one week? HUH?)

No warnings for this one! Just cute cute fluff (I'm doing my best! ;w; gdhdhdhd)

A Bleating Heart - Alastor x GN! Reader

You were reading your book in Alastor's armchair, taking in the heat that radiated from the mint green flames of the fireplace. When you heard a groan to your rear, you paused. You looked behind you, only to see Alastor tossing and turning onto his side. You couldn't help your frown, watching as Alastor's brows furrowed. The Radio Demon was frustrated, his cheek smashed into his pillow aggressively. 

"...everything alright, dear?" You ask softly, recalling that he was 'laying down' to get rid of his headache. Though you knew that Alastor wasn't one for sleep, you kept quiet and content all the same. But when he shook his head, pointing directly to it, you understood perfectly. 

" 'Antlers still bothering you, huh...? Headache?" 

Alastor hummed lowly, turning over and laying face down into his bed. While he was muffled by a pillow, you could barely make out what he said:

" I loathe shedding... It hasn't even begun, and-- oh, they itch-- to no end..." 

"And I assume that doesn't help your headache either?" 

Alastor grumbled, unable to be upset at your gentle pestering. You doted on him like his mother, a quality he would never admit to loving about you," ...Not a lick, dear..." 

You innocently stand from the armchair, walking over to Alastor's bedside," Would... Would it helped if you laid your head in my lap?" 

Alastor raises his head up slightly, eyes narrowed," I hardly see how that could help in this predicament..." You sigh, gently rolling Alastor over onto his back before sitting in the space he used to occupy. Begrudgingly, he did not stop you, but his eyes followed you cautiously. 

"Just trust me... Okay?" 

Alastor's expression soured. Trust is a hard-earned thing to receive from him. The Radio Demon, in all his glory, was slow to make acquaintances, and slower to give out trust. But, he relented, allowing you to sit beside him comfortably. When you patted your lap expectantly, Alastor complied. Due to his antlers, he awkwardly laid sideways on his bed, knees rising and coming together as his head finally met your lap. Thankfully, you would not be disemboweled by his accursed antlers tonight. 

When you smiled down to him, Alastor simply closed his eyes, unable to look your way without feeling embarrassed. This was well outside of his comfort zone. He was feeling incredibly vulnerable while his body did everything to antagonize him. He felt like he was between a rock and a hard place, despite your plush thighs cradling his head.

However, when he felt your hand brush against his hair, scratching gently, his throat ran dry. All nerves and stiffeness became lesser; like the rest of his senses, they became dulled. 

The touch was... Foreign, soft... But not unwelcome. It was soothing, even. When you continued to touch, your hands working in subtle circles against his scalp, he couldn't help the quiet, pleased hum that left him. 

" 'Feels good, my buck?" 

Alastor cracked one eye open, his smile wavering,"...please don't make me say it out loud," Alastor said quietly, a chuckle rising in his throat. You shrugged, not minding his shyness. 

"Hmm, it would be so much cuter if you did, though~" 

When your hand moved to an antler, scratching gently at the base, a full-body tremor ran through his neck down to his hooves. His knees knocked together, a quiet, animalistic noise tumbling out of him. You blink a few times, surprised by the noise, and decided to repeat the action. When a meek, content bleat hit your ears, your eyes nearly doubled in size. You were beaming down at Alastor, a large, giddy inhale expanding your chest. Your heart throbbed at the subconscious gesture. 

Meanwhile, Alastor's eyes were slammed shut, much tighter than before. His heart was racing with anxiety, his palms suddenly feeling clammy. 

Why. Why now, of all times, could he not keep his pathetic little ticks at bay? Of course he found comfort in your company, but-- 

...Maybe he should have used his words, after all. 

"Alastor, was that...?" 

"If you value your life, you will never speak of this again." 

You throw your free hand up defensively, a coy smile on your face," Oh sure, sure... Of course. Whatever you say, Alastor." When a second hand joined the other, lightly scratching at the base of his other antler, that small, high pitched bleat bounced right out of him. 

"Mmm... Yes... Yes, not a word, mon ange... Not a single word... but this-- this is fine for now..." 

You chuckle, increasing the pressure you applied as Alastor melted into your touch. 

"If you continue to be this adorable, I would never speak again, if it meant you stayed like this forever~" Alastor's hands folded together, laying on his chest. Soon enough his knees fell apart, creating a wide 'v'. He looks to you with both eyes as his brow twitches. 

"And what fun would that be? I rather enjoy our conversations, cher." You nearly snorted, surprised that Alastor didn't realize you were joking. 

You laugh, your shoulders shaking with an effort to be quiet as Alastor's legs finally gave out, hanging lazily off of the bed. When your hands moved higher up his antlers, you noticed his legs swinging back and forth idly. You wondered if he noticed, or if this was yet another subconscious action. 

" Fine, fine... I promise to keep talking~ but only if I get to keep spoiling you like this." 

Alastor feels his heart squeeze at the notion, a warmth spreading across his cheeks and ears. He refused to confirm or deny your request with words, instead shimmying his shoulders to sink further into your lap. An open-mouthed sigh was your only response as you lightly dragged your nails across one of his points, his hands untangling from one another. His body almost felt like liquefied, completely and utterly relaxed, taking up an obnoxious amount of space on his bed. And for once, he allowed himself a moment to enjoy it while in someone else's presence. 

He felt safe... Immensely so. But he would never profess to that to you so soon. 

For now, he was content with you playing with his hair, scratching his irritable antlers while he listened to you speak. Quite frankly, it wouldn't take long for Alastor's mind to shut down, his body losing the fight to slumber. When you noticed his breathing toggle to a steady, silent repetition, you resigned yourself to being a pillow. If you were honest, you would sooner die again than move from that spot. You would only permit that once Alastor woke up again, head clear and eyes soft... You wondered how he would look waking up, the adorable thought alone making you feel a surge of glee.

You didn't mind the sensation of pins and needles settling in your legs, knowing that this was a rare moment. Why interrupt something so fleeting? So precious?

You couldn't help but watch as Alastor laid in your lap, unmoving and completely slack. You decided you wouldn't tell him about how he lost his smile while he slept. In the rarest of moments, his lips were agape, formed into a flat, horizontal line. You'd tuck that secret into the back of your mind for safe keeping... A fond memory you'd hang on to for the rest of your afterlife. (A secret almost as precious as his quiet snores, which started when you played with his hair again.) You almost squeaked when Alastor bleated again, much softer than when he was awake. Yes, it would be best if you never mentioned it... Alastor would die from sheer embarrassment alone, you think.

You let out a tired yawn, your mind wandering. Honestly? If you were really, truly in Hell... Well, this was a pretty splendid way to spend it, wasn't it? Why seek forgiveness and redemption, when your entire world was in your lap? And with that thought in mind, you decided to get some sleep, your head resting against the cool wood of Alastor's headboard. 

[stilinskibaby]

brother's best friend.

PAIRING : stiles stilinski x mccall!reader.

CONTENT : fluff ๑ angst ๑ smut

it started out as a childhood crush, as most longterm infatuations do. you couldn't have been older than four when you met stiles, your stiles. he was missing his front tooth and he spoke with a lisp.

he was wildly loud and animated and you know when you're a kid and you think a boy is so cute that you're sure there's hearts in your eyes. he spoke of playing dragons and knights with scott, “oh! and you can be the princess.”

it was a memory that you kept crawling back to, a time much simpler than now. you could have let out a cold laugh, now you were in constant fear of your life, scott’s life, stiles’ life. it wasn't anything you couldn't handle but you wished for the times when all you had to worry about was your silly schoolgirl crush on stiles.

today was surprisingly quiet, just defeating peter and dealing with the deadpool, you were tired. all of you were, but you kept an eye open just on the off chance that something would try to kill one of your friends.

you stared at your reflection in the mirror, and dotted some concealer under your eyes, anything to make it look like you got some sleep last night. you didn't have scott’s powers to fall back on, nor lydia’s intelligence and intuition. everyday you wondered if you'd be another human lost in the fight against the preternatural.

you tried to wipe the thoughts from your head before walking down the main hall of the high school, stiles stood leaning against his locker while your brother talked about god knows what.

you walked up to the two of them and tried to act normal. like stiles isn't a whole foot away from you, like his cologne isn't enough to make your knees quiver, like every little wink, smile and joke doesn't make you wanna beg him to love you.

you'd been dealing with this crush for as long as you have memories, it should be easier by now. it seemed like lately though, it was getting harder. almost like he was purposefully invading all your thoughts.

“helllloooo?” you came back to the present because of stiles’ voice and scott's hand waving in front of your face. your skin warmed from the embarrassment of getting caught zoning out.

“what? sorry, I'm just tired,” you sighed, seemingly having said that alot recently. but dealing with what you can only assume to be a unrequited crush is tiring. especially when that crush happens to be on your brother's best friend.

stiles eyes squinted with disbelief. if there was one thing you hated about the boy, it was his ability to tell when anyone was lying.

“right, anyways,” scott continued eyeing you from the corner of his eyes but you were already zoning out again.

your day continued on like that, just skating by with your mind constantly drifting back to stiles. it felt almost like you were cursed, your brain almost short circuiting whenever you tried to think of literally anything else.

before you knew it, as if on airplane mode you found yourself walking out the doors towards the jeep. since scott started working at the clinic, you'd just been riding home with stiles. and due to the supernatural nature of your life, it's easier this way.

you climbed into the jeep and tried to keep a semblance of calm. stiles scent was invading your nostrils, with his lacrosse gear in the back seat and him sitting directly next to you. a soft song played on the radio, and if your emotions weren't getting the best of you ; you'd romanticize the man before you.

you were almost never quiet when left alone with stiles, it almost like you don't know how to shut up when around him. so the silence filling the jeep was becoming a bit much even for the hyperactive mind of stiles stilinski.

“you sure you're okay, sunshine?” his hand awkwardly patted your leg. stiles has been calling you sunshine forever, it's yours-and-his special little thing and even when you feel like the world is crushing you, it still gives you butterflies.

you had be around ten, you sat on the bus one seat in front of stiles and scott. stiles was talking mindlessly about lydia ( 12 year olds and their crushes ). and some kid was in the seat in front of you talking about how weird you were. being just a kid, you were almost to tears until stiles heard what the unkind words sprouted from the kid’s mouth.

“you don't even know what you're talking about! she's like sunshine.”

you found yourself blushing and feeling embarrassed, just for the kid to start making fun of you and stiles.

you let the silence hang a bit longer, trying to buy some time to tell a somewhat believable lie. the jeep came to a stop in front of stiles’ house. your eyebrows knit together trying to remember if there was some prior agreement that you forgot about.

“i think i know exactly what you need!” stiles spoke excitedly, and your heart felt like it was gonna fall out of your chest.

“a-and what's that?” you tried to convey a sarcastic tone but your voice shook as spoke. you prayed to whoever was listening that he didn't notice.

his eyes scanned your face as if trying to pry into your mind and it would give him all the answers. “movie night! i know we haven't done one in forever, but i think it'll help get your mind off whatever is bothering you. I know scott is usually here for this,” he sighed a little and rubbed the back of his neck.

your heart warmed, you couldn't believe the absolute kindness this boy had to offer. though every moment around him, was a kick to ego and a kiss for your heart.

“thank you, stiles,” his hand still awkwardly sat on your thigh, burning a metaphorical hole through your jeans.

he grinned that big smile, the one where his whole face turns into pure joy. it took everything in you not to just kiss him right there. and right as you began to get the courage he pops open his door and falls out the jeep. you chuckled to yourself bitterly.

you followed him into his room where you plopped yourself down on the bed. “so what's on tonight, star wars again?” you giggled as you watched him fumble through his dvds.

“actually, i rented heathers last night just for you, i know it's your favorite!” this boy was going to kill you.

and just like old times, he made popcorn and let you lay on his chest. you thought you might throw up. watching your favorite film, with the biggest crush of your life and it started to feel like you were suffocating.

you sat up anxiously, leaning against the wall, stiles’ head lazily rolled to the side, watching your every move.

“stiles,” your voice shook, your lips quivered and you were rubbing your hands intensely.

“hey! woah, hey, it's okay, whatever it is, it's okay, what's got you so upset? did you kill someone or something?” he tried to joke and relieve the tension and at this moment you think that might be an easier conversation.

“no, no, nothing like that,” the Perception of rejection was getting to you, an anvil falling on your heart. you laughed bitterly, “actually, now it feels so dumb. i just, stiles, i-i love you. i love you so much and i cant, i tried to swallow it and for a while that worked,” you were basically sobbing now eyes closed and lip shaking and you were about to lose your breath.

“but i can't, and I can't keep pretending i dont, but it's killing me and that feels dramatic but please, please don't hate me.” he knew this was very serious for you, a girl that almost never let anyone see her cry. amd he didn't mean to, and he feels so bad for it but he laughs, it just thr awkwardness that's in his bones.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, please I didn't mean to laugh, but i guess it just seems so silly to me that you wouldn't just tell me or someone and let it get so bad.” he pauses almost like he's trying to find his words. and all you can think about is running, running as fast as you can but his hand is on your leg and you'd feel so bad for it.

“i can't believe you could be so oblivious, I've been trying to hint to you for years now that i felt the same,” you didn't let him finish his sentence instead, doing what you've always wanted to do : kiss him. your lips mold together perfectly, you felt so far away, like you were in a dream.

the dream felt more hazy, when his hands find your hips and pull you into his lap. you can feel his cock hardened underth you, restrained by his jeans. you grind against and whimper into his mouth.

“stiles, stiles if you don't do something right now,” your words were breathless, somewhere between a whimper and a whine. his fingers move quickly to undo his jeans, while you shed yourself of everything but your bra and panties. you always wore cute panties in a secret way to manifest this happening.

as soon as he has you below, his hands are moving to grope your tits, he groans, eyes scanning every inch of your body, trying to commit every part of you to memory.

“fuck, you're so pretty, baby.” his words go straight to your core, warm, wet and clenching around nothing. you're thoughtless, the only thing left in your mind is him, so you just whine.

his fingers trace around your hips and slide your thong to the side to get a view of your beautiful cunt.

“you ready?” you nod, and he shakes his head, as if a new man. “say it,” as his hands slide over every part of your body except where you need him most.

“m ready, please stiles need you, need your cock. please, please” you were practically begging so pumped himself a few times before sheathing his full length into your cunt. it's so deliciously painful.

“mm such a good girl, taking me so well,” he pressed his lips against your forehead in a long kiss. before giving you long thick strokes, ans his hand reaching between you to rub little circles onto your clit. you were seeing white as continued to fuck you, your fingernails scraping against his pale skin.

his teeth gritted as he moaned, trying so hard to hold back. “m close, please please.” you whined and he fucked you faster, and harder. rough groans falling out of his lips.

your climax was closing in on your, your nails skating harder against him, your legs closing in around his hips. you basically screamed your orgasm out against stiles neck. he chuckled to himself, proud he could do all this. he funally let go, fucking you both through your climaxes. and keeping his now soft cock in your cunt, to keep his cum in you. thank god for birth control.

[adorrrin]

FIRST MEET. - Simon Ghost Riley x Fem Reader short fic !!

— your husband, Simon, takes you to meet his best friend for the first time.

(divider from kodaswrld)

You laid in your husband, Simon’s arms. His hand absentmindedly running through your hair, other hand secured on your baby bump, gently caressing it. 

After you had told him you were pregnant, he had been more protective than ever. 

He was deep in thought, eyes focused on the ceiling. You knew that when he zoned out like this, it was because he was thinking of something serious. 

“I wanna take you to see Johnny, luv.” His rough voice gruffed, eyes trailing down to meet yours. 

Johnny. Simon didn’t speak much of him. You knew they worked together, but that was it. He always seems to go quiet when Johnny is brought up. 

“R- Really?” You choked, wide eyes meeting his. It was a true surprise; he never spoke of the man, and now he wants to take you to see him? 

“Yeah.” He whispered, slightly nodding his head. Simon had a tendency to be very…reserved. “It’s about time, I reckon.”

… 

And just like that, you two were sat in the car, in silence. The radio was off; this wasn’t a time for music, Simon said. 

Your hands nervously played with the ripped leather of the seat; a bad habit you had gained while being nervous. Simon didn’t mind though. Anything to ease your mind. 

The drive continued on in tense silence, Simon’s hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were turning white. 

He was never good at showing his emotions, so you got better at reading him through the little things. He was sat up a little straighter than usual, his jaw was clenched, and he occasionally moved a hand to his chest to touch his dogtags. 

He was nervous. 

After what felt like an eternity, the car stopped. Simon got out, walked to your side and helped you out aswell. It seemed like you were in the middle of nowhere. Is this where you die?

No. Surely Simon wouldn’t do that. 

His tattooed hand held your hand, starting to pull you along. You walked down a pathway, onto an open meadow, stopping by the cliff, overlooking the water. 

Oh.

“Hey, Johnny.” Simon gruffed quietly, his eyes zoned into the distant sunset. “Finally brought the missus around. Sad you couldn’t actually meet her, but I know you’re up there watchin’ us.” You stayed silent, even tearing up as you watched your husband speak to his late friend. 

“Even managed to knock her up.” He muttered, a chuckle-like sound following. “‘s a boy. We’re gonna name him Johnny.”

You two sat there, watching the sunset, Simon truly opening up to you. He told you everything about his and Johnny’s friendship, he told you how he passed, and everything after it. How Simon came here every week. 

After the sun had finally set, Simon let out a soft sigh. “We need to get going, luv.” 

“See you again next Friday, Johnny.” Simon spoke, before grabbing your hand, helping you up and beginning to lead you back to the car.

He opened his heart to you a little more today, and you’ll forever cherish that. 

______________________________

Simon pushed the stroller down the dirt path, your toddler son babbling in there, playing with his pacifier. 

Finally making it to the opening, he let out a sigh, “That path definitely ain’t made for strollers.” He watched the sunset with a smile again. “Johnny, meet little Johnny. Sorry we haven’t come by sooner, it’s been hectic since the birth.” Simon’s eyes were focused on little Johnny, as he took in another sharp breath. “You’ve properly met my wife now then, haven’t you?” Tears glossed his eyes as he moved his eyes to the sunset; it was more colorful than usual. 

“You better keep ‘er company until I get there. But not too much, eh? She’s still my bloody wife, even if she’s up there now.”

[l4ndon0rris]

No Talking Zone LN4

bff!Lando x you :: just a bunch of bff fluff after a certain frustrating race weekend 750ish words masterlist

Lando had officially gone off grid for the night; no texts read, no missed phone calls returned. You weren't taking it personally, you were more than familiar with how Lando dealt with losses over the years but this one undoubtedly stung a little differently. You couldn't rest knowing how his internal monologue would be reeling negatively against himself and you had one tactic that would get him to talk.

A tentative knock on his door didn't appear to stir any movement from the other side, a second firmer knock on the hardwood earned some padding of footsteps from inside the room but still no acknowledgement. With an exasperated sigh to yourself at his blatant ignorance you decided to call out his name this time as you banged on the door with a balled up fist.

"I don't want any visitors," Lando weakly replied to the door. You were grateful he couldn't see your face scrunch up frustratedly in response to him.

"Let me in you idiot." This exact scene had been played between the two of you many times before and you were certain Lando knew you weren't going anywhere until he'd let you in. Raising your fist to the door- the door swung open before you had a chance to knock, a pouty faced Lando stood in the open door way.

"I'm not in the mood to talk," he mumbled barely opening his mouth. His eyes had lost their usual sparkle under heavy eyelids, many would succumb to his current innocent and vulnerable demeanour and lather him with pity and praise but your friendship with Lando was much more genuine and raw than that and you both appreciated it being so.

"Good. I don't want to talk," you challenged with a raised eyebrow. You motioned to the laptop that was placed under your arm, his eyes glanced at it before he defeatedly padded back through his room to the bed. You rolled your eyes at his continued stubborn silence, closing the door behind you and heading to the oversized bed jumping in place beside him setting the laptop down between you for the time being.

"This is a no talking zone," Lando declared monotone. Secretly you were glad he understood exactly why you were here, happy to let him think it was his idea. He lay directly on his back staring at the ceiling, hands on his torso, motionless. You could see and feel the tension and frustration coursing through him. You on the other hand were relaxed, scrolling through your phone. There was no such thing as awkward silence between you both, you knew all too well that sometimes all that is needed is company and that was always the purpose of the 'no talking zone'.

Lando stewed in place on the bed; gnawing at the inside of his lips, tapping his fingers against his knuckles, feet knocking the end of the bed. Restless. Agitated. Disrespected. Confused. Second-best. Second-place.

"You know I've done everything for that team," surprising himself as his internal monologue left his mouth. You briefly acknowledged his statement, glancing at him slightly, knowing it was best to stay quiet and let him talk his way out of his state. He still hadn't moved from his rigid position on the bed.

"Everything. My whole career, all the scut work when I started. I've dragged tractors around that track. I've declined numerous offers. All because I wanted to win with McLaren."

You slowly lowered your phone as Lando continued talking, "I know you have," quietly agreeing.

"You're probably one of few who do actually know. Clearly the team has forgotten. Did you see how big my gap was? Fucking-" Lando turned on his side to face you, a gentle smile on lips in support of your friend. Lando raked a hand through his dishevelled curls, "sorry, I just-"

You hushed him for apologising. "I saw the whole thing, Lan. Everyone did. It was shit, what they said to you on the radio for everyone to hear? Shit." Lando's heavy eyes looked at you, grateful.

"Thanks for coming and not talking with me," he muttered with a weak smile that almost reached his eyes. Fully aware that once again the no talking zone had worked exactly how you planned it to. Lando took the opportunity to open the laptop and find a film as you buried yourself under the duvet cover, him following and wrapping himself like a burrito.

"You always talk best in the no talking zone." You smirked, adding to the mental tally of how many times you had both been in the no talking zone. Some had taken place in a tent on a camping trip, others under separate blankets when there wasn't one big enough for two, self-made carboard dens and under the table at a restaurant was a more bizarre environment when you were much younger.

Places and reasons may change, but you and Lando would never truly outgrow the "no talking zone".

ask box

[kingzombear]

Oc doodle cuz. Yea. Ray of Sunshine x Gloomy Cloud lesbians.

Laugh at her gf's puns, or she'll drain your blood like a juice box

Bimbam 🤡 (she/they/it) and Maria 🦇 (she/her)

[skzdarlings]

05. sharing a bed series ; skz ; han

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 5/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: han jisung/reader content info: dom!reader. sub!jisung. sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. past misunderstandings, grudges, bickering. femdom feat: face slapping, face sitting, hair pulling, choking, riding, denial-n-cumming-anyway, kneeling, more pussy eating. this one is a little longer. teehee :)

-

“Hey, I hope you had a good flight…”

Chan’s voice message crackles through your phone speaker but you can barely hear him over the bustling airport. You wait until you are outside in the pick-up zone to try listening again.  It is marginally quieter out here, cars coming and going, light snowfall brightening the winter night.  With your luggage at your feet, you replay his voice mail. 

“Hey, I hope you had a good flight.  Something came up at work and I’m not gonna be able to pick you up.  I’m really sorry ‘bout it, mate.  Jisung is on his way to get you.  I know, I know, but he’ll get you home, yeah?  If you’re still mad tomorrow, I’ll take you to lunch and you can kill me there.  Buh-byyeeeee!”   

Oh, that son of a bitch. 

The message ends just as a pair of headlights flash over you.  You can see through the front window but despite the direct eye contact Jisung still feels the need the honk the horn not once, not twice, but three times. 

You stand there with your arms hanging helplessly at your sides.  Snow falls on your head and a frown darkens your whole face.  Jisung just smiles and waves like an idiot, honking the horn again. 

I am going to kill Chan, you think to yourself. 

Jisung loves putting you in situations where you are the unrepentant supervillain of his life, so ignoring him and getting in a cab would just play into his horrible little hands.  He might look unassuming in his puffy coat and backwards cap, might look soft and friendly with his fair hair and plushy pink smile, might look innocent with his big brown eyes peering at you with cartoonishly saccharine enthusiasm, but in reality none of that is true. 

Han Jisung is the worst. 

Han Jisung is your nemesis. 

Han Jisung honks the horn again.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you shout.  You roll your eyes and heft your luggage over your shoulder, stomping with an incredible degree of petulance for a woman of your age.  You toss your bag in the trunk then slide into the passenger seat. 

Jisung honks again. 

“Hello, hello, welcome to Flight H.A.N with Jisung airlines, this is your pilot speaking—”

You turn on the radio to shut him up.  You are not in the mood for his shenanigans. 

Jisung cringes with theatrical chagrin.   

“Yikes,” he says with a bubbly laugh.  “Tough crowd.”

“Just drive.”  

“Yes, mistress, right away, mistress, Jisung lives to serve his mistress, please don’t hurt Jisung or leave him out in the cold tonight—”

You thunk your head against the headrest, glaring ahead as Jisung smoothly joins the traffic flow despite his nonsensical rambling. 

You vaguely remember a time when Jisung was shy, back before he made it his life mission to send you hurtling into an annoyance-induced death.  You also vaguely remember a time you liked him, him and his quietness, him and his quirky humour, him and his big, stupid, brown eyes. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Jisung sings along with the radio so you flip the station to one with talking.   He strums his fingers on the steering wheel, lips pursed and eyebrows lifted.  He casts you a few side glances that you pointedly ignore.   When you see him open his mouth, you hold up a finger. 

“Do not even think about it,” you say.  “Whatever you were about to say or do… Don’t.”

He presses his lips together and makes an obnoxiously loud pop.

“Kk,” he says.  “This should be a fun half hour.”

The airport is outside of the city, a half-hour drive to your downtown apartment.  Usually.  The weather has traffic horrifically backed up.  Half an hour comes and goes and you are barely out of view of the airport. 

“We could play a game,” Jisung says, looking at you sideways.  “I spy with my little—”

“Nope.”

“Okay, cool. Cool, cool, cool.”  He nods, strumming the steering wheel again. 

The radio blathers on, you barely listening.  You scroll through your phone until there are zero notifications, then you scroll through your photo album just for something to look at.  Jisung hums to himself and you try not to get annoyed all over again.  You exploding at something so inconsequential would give him way too much satisfaction.   

The snow comes down harder.  It pulls your attention from your phone to the blustery world outside.  Everything is a harsh grey, the dark night foggily illuminated by the white snow.  Even Jisung is concentrating now, his brow furrowed as he stares through the front window. 

“Shit,” he says. 

He changes stations to catch a road update.  Your jaws drop in unison when the reporter mentions a thirteen hour delay on the main bridge into the city. 

“Thirteen fucking hours?” you say.  It comes out wheezy.  “It’s winter!  Why are they always so surprised by the fucking snow!  God!  What the hell are we gonna do?”

“We’re not going anywhere near the bridge, that’s what we’re gonna do,” Jisung says, flipping the car into reverse and immediately changing course. 

“How else are we getting downtown?” 

He looks at you like you’re so stupid that he can’t believe it, his eyebrows jumping up his face. 

“Uh, hello, welcome back to town, it’s snowing here,” Jisung says.  “We’re going downtown tomorrow when it won’t kill us or trap us in a car—”

“I want to go home—”

“Do you want to spend thirteen hours in a car with me?”  Jisung asks.  “Because that’s what going home will involve right now, k?”

He sounds terse.  You feel a little better when he acts short with you too, more justified in your own rudeness. 

“Fine,” you say.  “What are we doing then?”   

A ten minute trip turns into an hour long drive with traffic delays, but eventually you are rolling into the snow-covered parking lot of the only motel with a vacancy sign.  You and Jisung do not speak, stepping out of the car and crunching along the snow in silence.  The motel parking lot is washed a golden colour, the yellow balcony lights beaming over the white snow.   It holds the promise of warmth.   You hurry inside. 

You shake yourself off in the tiny entryway while Jisung dings the desk bell.  Someone appears to check you in. 

“You’re a lucky couple,” she says.  “Lots of folks have stopped because of the weather.  We have exactly one room left available.  It’s a nice cozy double bed.  Sounds good?”  

“Ummm…”  You join Jisung at the desk, a million frantic thoughts running through your brain.  “Hold on, we’re not—”

“Did you hear that, baby?” Jisung says with exaggerated fondness, because he can’t help but taunt you.  “We’re a lucky couple.  Isn’t that just our luck the only room available has one bed?” 

You step on his foot deliberately and he yelps. 

“Is there really no other option?” you ask the attendant with some degree of desperation. 

“No, sorry.”  She gives you a funny look but shakes her head.  “I doubt you’ll have better luck finding a room anywhere else tonight.  You can have this one or enjoy a car nap.” 

“My beautiful wife and I are happy with a double,” Jisung says, already holding out his credit card.  “Right, baby?” 

You smack his ass, hard and swift.  His eyes widen.   You smirk.

“Right, baby,” you say with a snarl. 

-

Tonight’s only saving grace is the hot water; you enjoy a long shower before changing into sleep shorts and a camisole.   You join Jisung in the room, finding him sprawled on the double bed with air pods in his ears.  He tossed his hat somewhere and is laying there in jeans and a t-shirt – remarkable, as you thought he might strip to his underwear just to be annoying.  But no, he lays there peacefully.  His fair hair is darker at the root, neatly framing his unfortunately handsome face.  He has one arm flexed under his head, the muscle more pronounced than you remember it being.  His eyes are closed as he nods along to the music. 

You grab a pillow and thwack him in the gut.  It startles him to attention, a strangled sound leaving his throat. 

“You stay on that side of the bed and you do not move, got it?” you say. 

He sticks his tongue out at you.   

“Very mature,” you say. 

You lay down with your back to him.  After twenty minutes, he still has his bedside light on so you snap at him.  He whines like a little baby but turns it off, leaving just his phone beaming at his face.  You can hear his music but say nothing. 

You can’t sleep.  You want to roll over but you absolutely refuse to face him. 

His phone screen finally goes dark after god knows how long and he puts it aside.  There is a long stretch of silence in the dark.  You swear you have never been so uncomfortable laying on this side in all your life.  Knowing you will not be able to sleep without turning at least once, you decide to roll over.  You figure Jisung laid down with his back to you anyway.

He didn’t.  He is staring right at you, his big eyes making him look like a pathetic little lemur gawping at a human in the dark. 

“Why don’t you like me?” Jisung says.

“Oh no,” you say, immediately rolling onto your back.  “Absolutely not.  We are not having a heart to heart.”

“Oh come oooon, please,” he whines.  “This is the time and place—”

“It really isn’t—”

“It’s a classic story, a boy, and a girl—”

“I don’t like stories—”

“Forced to share a bed and share their secret feelings—”

“Those feelings are disgust, hatred, and revulsion—”

“Opening their hearts and—whoa, wait, what?  Hatred?  You hate me?”  Jisung pushes himself up on one elbow, staring down at you with a completely horrified look on his face. 

You try to ignore him and his stupid expressions, glaring at the ceiling as if it can do anything to save you.   Your heart is beating fast but it doesn’t feel good.  The pounding is coupled with a nauseous turn in your gut.

It is open knowledge that you do not like Han Jisung one bit, but you seldom vocalize it so explicitly.  Certainly not to his face.  Certainly not beside him in bed. 

“That can’t possibly surprise you,” you say.

“Well, it does actually!”  Jisung says.  “I knew you didn’t like me but hate me?  How could you hate me?  I’m delightful.” 

Even now, the clown is trying to joke.  Because that’s all it is to him, isn’t it?  Everything is just a joke all the time.  Everything and everyone is a punchline waiting to happen.  But you aren’t laughing.  Your hands close into fists and you dig your nails into your palms to keep your frustration in check.  Your neck feels hot and your stomach is still turning.  You feel embarrassed about things you haven’t even said yet.  Your tongue feels swollen somehow, your throat lined thickly.  It takes several deep breaths before you can speak.

“Well,” you say bitterly, “I guess I just can’t help being a massive bitch.  The worst you’ve ever met, right?” 

There is a beat of silence, then Jisung flips on the bedside light.

You slap your fists down on the bedcovers and glare at him.

“Turn off the light,” you say. 

“No way, you were just talking in a voice.  What did you mean? Why do you--”

“Jisung, I swear to god, if you don’t turn off that light—”

“Look, can we just—”

You shove the covers down and climb on top of him without thinking, trying to reach the light yourself.  He grabs you by the arms and pushes you back.  You end up tussling ungracefully, you wriggling around like a worm and Jisung clearly in control but just as clearly trying to go easy on you.  It puts you at an impasse.  With an angry huff, you push away from him.

“If I said something—” he starts. 

You laugh, a joyless cackle. 

“If,” you repeat.  “You’ve said a lot of somethings over the years, Jisung.” 

“I—I didn’t mean it if I—I don’t even know what I—”

You look at him.  He seems to be genuinely confounded and more than a little miserable, his eyes darting around as he racks his brain, his brow furrowed with obvious upset.  His hand is frozen on his head, a clump of hair feathering through his fingers. 

He meets your gaze and you roll your eyes.  You feel hot and uncomfortable again, the source of your nausea climbing up and up and up until it is clawing its way past your lips and—

“The day we met,” you say, finally, after years of stamping down the humiliating memory, “you said I was a massive bitch, the worst you had ever met.  And it—”

You are not sad.  You refuse to be sad.  This pain is years old now and it does not hurt you anymore.  But you are angry –  with him, with yourself, with this whole shitty circumstance, and the angrier you get, the more tears stab at your eyes. 

You swallow down a lump in your throat and take a steadying breath.  You stare at the wall because his attentive, earnest gaze is too much to bear. 

“I know I’m a little awkward when I first meet people,” you say.  “I’m shy and weird and sometimes… sometimes people think I’m a bitch when really I’m just quiet.  Chan introduced me to you because he said that you were kinda the same, and that we had lots in common, and he thought we would get along.  And then we met and—”

“We did,” Jisung says softly.

Your vision is blurry now.  You sniff hard, wiping your arm under your nose. 

“Yes,” you say.  “We did.  We got along amazing.  We were quiet for a second and then it was like… like we were already friends. As if we always knew each other. I’ve never spoken like that to someone so quickly.  It’s like I just forgot to be shy.   I was so happy and then—”

“I remember all this,” Jisung says, still sounding confused.  “I don’t get it.  It was Changbin’s birthday, right?  We were talking all night and it was great but then you just left without saying bye.  Then the next time we met you already hated me—”

You finally look at him, hitting him with the full force of your emotional expression.  He clearly was not expecting the tears because he literally jumps at the sight of you. 

“I left after overhearing you talk about me in the kitchen to one of your stupid friends,” you snap.  “’That woman is without doubt a totally massive bitch.  The worst I’ve ever met.’  And you were laughing.  Just… just standing there laughing about it, about me.  And I had no idea why.  Why?  What had I said or done?  It was humiliating.  And it hurt, and the reason it hurt so bad was because it came from you.”  You jab him in the chest, trying to sound angry because your tears are falling now and it just makes you feel pathetic.  “It hurt, Jisung,” you say, “because it was you.  From anyone else I wouldn’t care.  But you were the one person I expected to understand me.  The one person who got what it was like.  So to hear you saying those things—god.  I never wanted to see you again, but then you and Chan started your stupid projects together and I couldn’t get away from you.  And you just got more and more in my face no matter what I did—”

“Oh my god.” Jisung slaps both hands to his head.  He closes his eyes and shakes his head, as if he can’t believe what he is hearing.  “Hold on,” he says, abruptly getting out of bed.  “Just… just hold on.” 

He runs away.  You sit there more confused than anything, your face wet, your breathing uneven.  He is gone long enough for you to get angry again, glaring at him when he gets back in the bed.

“Here,” he says, giving you the tissue box he evidently retrieved from the bathroom.  “Just… here.” 

He takes a tissue and awkwardly dabs at your cheek.  You snatch it away from him, frowning. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he says.  He gets off the bed again, hovering awkwardly at the side while you wipe your face clean.   He waits until you are composed, swaying where he stands, clasping and unclasping his hands.  When you stop sniffling, he lets out a huge exhale.  “Okay,” he says.  “Look.  I’m sorry.  I’m… I’m really, really fucking sorry.  And I want to explain, I really do, but… but if I explain, I think it’s only gonna make you upset.”

You give him a very sarcastic look.

“I’m already upset, you stupid jerk,” you say.  “Just spit it out so I can go to sleep.” 

“Right.”  He runs his hand through his hair again.  It falls softly down and flutters when he exhales.  “God.  Okay.  This is gonna sound so stupid.  But, yeah, okay, I do remember saying that actually.  I didn’t know you heard me but… but that’s not an excuse.  I know.  I shouldn’t have said it at all.  I totally do know that.  But also… I said it, but I didn’t.  What I mean is, what you heard me saying, I was not actually saying.”

You stare at him for a long moment. 

“What,” you say, “the fuck?” 

He waves his hands around defensively. 

“What I mean is,” he says, “and stay with me… but… I actually meant it as a compliment.” 

“A compliment,” you say.  “A compliment?  You called me a massive bitch as a compliment?”

“Yes.” 

“Do you seriously expect me to believe that?” you shout, grabbing a pillow and hurling it at him.

His reflexes are fast.  He ducks and the pillow sails over his head, whacking the blinds with a clatter.  He looks there then looks at you, just in time for you to throw the tissue box.  He dodges that too, ducking down again.  The box hits the radiator and thunks to the ground. 

“Okay, listen—” he says.

He is not fast enough when you chuck the second pillow. 

“Okay, okay, I deserved that,” he says, holding the offending pillow up in surrender.  He tentatively approaches the bed with it, eying you as he gently lays it back down.

You glare.

“I promise I can explain,” he says.  “And you’re gonna love this explanation, because it is going to completely and totally humiliate me and you will have something to hold over my head for the rest of your life.”

“I’m listening,” you say.  You feel embarrassed about crying so the least he can do is embarrass himself too. 

“Thank you,” he says.  He gets back on the bed, kneeling and tipping his head back.  It looks like he’s praying, gathering the strength to admit whatever he is about to admit. 

You cross your arms.  You are annoyed he is taking so long and also annoyed that you genuinely want to know.  Han Jisung has no problem blurting every stupid thought that crosses his mind, at least when it comes to you, so you cannot begin to imagine what dark secret he can’t bring himself to speak out loud. 

You are halfway convinced he is trying to come up with a lie when he finally throws his arms out as if in supplication. 

“I’m a fucking freak!” he says, with all the verve and jubilation of hallelujah.  He closes his eyes and nods his head.  “I’m a pervert and I think with my dick like ninety-eight per cent of the time.  The other two per cent of the time I am honestly probably thinking with my prostate, though I haven’t really worked that one out yet completely—”

“What?”  Your whole face screws tight with bewilderment.  “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“I love bitches.  No wait.”  He shakes his head.  “That came out wrong.  Hold on.  I love… well, yeah, no, bitches.  Mean girls.  Bullies.  Catwoman.”

“Catwoman.”

“That whip… t-cha.”

“Jisung—”

“Look I was telling my friend about you because Minho’s an even bigger freak than me.  He’s the only one who knows my secret and—”

“Your secret,” you say slowly. “That you… like bitches?”

“That I love bitches,” he says.  “When I told him that you were the biggest bitch I ever met, it was because we both knew that what I meant was: holy shit dude, I just found my soulmate, she’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, I’m getting married tonight, and if she asked me to tattoo her face on my butt right now I would do it.” 

You hate that you laugh, but the comment is so unexpected that it sputters out of you.

Jisung smiles, releasing a pent-up breath of relief. 

“You were… are… funny, and smart, and yeah a bit quiet but you still don’t let it stop you from defending yourself or someone else when something is wrong.  Remember when you told off that creep at the party?  The one who was bugging Felix?  You don’t take anyone’s shit and then you just move on quietly like it was nothing.  I was obsessed with you from the second we started talking.  Then I was a stupid horny pervert and opened my big stupid mouth and now you hate me.” 

“I’m still not sure I really get it,” you say, admittedly flustered at his admission.  You had no idea Jisung saw you that way.  The woman he’s describing does sound pretty amazing, and he sounds sincerely infatuated.   When your heart starts skipping beats again, it feels different than before.  “Explain,” you say. 

He slaps his thighs in a motion of surrender. 

“Yup,” he says.  “Okay.  Fine.  Cool.  I like when women boss me around.  I like when they are mean to me.  I like when they hurt me and make me cry.   It… it gets my dick hard, okay?  I love bitches.  I LOVE BITCHES—”

You reach out to slap a hand over his mouth, remembering it’s a motel in the middle of the night. 

Jisung’s shoulders jump and he laughs into your hand, clearly embarrassed as he remembers where he is.  You laugh in spite of yourself, lowering your hand. 

“Oops,” he says.

“Oops,” you reply. 

Oops, you misunderstood your eavesdropping. 

Oops, Jisung never hated you. 

Oops, you find yourself staring into his eyes for way too long. 

“So just to clarify,” you say.  “You’re into, like, female domination stuff, and you called me a bitch as the highest form of compliment in your crazy brain, and then you spent the next two years being as annoying as possible because…”

“I thought you were just, like, crazy edging me or something,” Jisung says, making you laugh helplessly into your hands.  He laughs too, even while looking a little pained.  “I did!  I was like shit, she’s so nasty, she’s really taking me for a fucking ride.  I would have kept doing this for the rest of our lives if this conversation didn’t happen.  I would’ve been at your wedding like damn, she’s really got me going this time—”

“You’re so stupid,” you say, pushing at his chest without any real animosity. 

“I know, I really am,” he says.  He draws an X over his chest.  “But cross my heart and hope to die, everything I have told you is the complete truth.  I’d tell you to slap me because you definitely deserve it but honestly, it would give me a boner and I don’t think either of us wants that since we’re stuck in the same bed all night.” 

He says it jokingly, of course.  But you can hear the twinge of flirtation and truth under his just kidding. 

And maybe you’re still on an adrenaline kick.  Maybe your emotions are right at the surface.  Maybe you hated him so much because deep down you liked him, and you hated that you liked him because of a misunderstanding. 

And maybe, just maybe, those big brown eyes have drawn you in from the second you first saw him. 

“Slap you,” you say, as if in deep contemplation.  “Slap you where?  Your face?” 

This clearly catches him off guard.  He opens his mouth and a garbled sound comes out.  He thumps a fist on his chest. 

“Uh, yeah,” he says.  “Sure.  Whatever, you know.  You know.” 

“Mhm.” You move so you are kneeling too, facing each other.  You watch as he swallows hard, the gulp going down his throat.  All the adrenaline you built up earlier is suffusing into the race of your bloodstream.  Heat simmers below the surface of your skin.  “And you like that?  Getting slapped when you’ve been bad?”

“Oh my god,” he says.  “Are you.. are we… is something happening right now?  Oh my god.  Hold on.”  He says that but then all he does is stand up and sit back down again, rekneeling in the exact same position.  “Right, okay,” he says.  “Slap away.”

You snort, rolling your eyes but smiling.  You lift your hand but he is staring at you so expectantly that it just feels weird, not sexy, and you laugh giddily with amusement. 

“Aww, come oooon,” he whines, but laughingly too.  “Don’t get shy.  You were so good at it.”

“I’ve had years of bitchy practice, I guess,” you say with a quirked eyebrow, making him grin.  You shake your head.  “I dunno.  Just.  Do something to earn a slap I guess.  It’s too weird to just smack you out of nowhere.” 

“Do something?” he asks.  “Uh, I dunno.  As far as I’m concerned, I’ve never done anything in my life to earn a slap.  I’m seriously the most charming and funny and perfect guy ever and I—” 

Your slap him across the face.  The sound startles you because it sounds harder than it felt, ringing out loud with only the faintest sting on your palm.   

Jisung looks genuinely surprised.  His head turned with the impact of the slap, his jaw falling open.  He blinks himself back into focus and you are about to ask if he’s all right, then he looks at you in a way he has never looked at you before.  The desire and desperation of his gaze moves right through you, gathering hot in every intimate place. 

“Did you like that?” he asks, his voice a little gravelly as it drops low. 

“I don’t know,” you say softly.  You reach out to touch his chin, a delicate touch that makes him shiver.  You turn his face to look at the faint redness on his cheek.  “Can I try again to be sure?”

He nods and swallows again. 

You don’t ask for build-up this time.  You pull your hand back and bring it down sharply on his cheek. 

This time it makes him whimper.  It flushes you with heat. 

“Oh my god,” you say.  “What else?” 

“Uh, oh, fuck, um.”  He touches his cheek and sucks in a breath.  He pushes his hair only for it flop back in place.  “Um,” he says.  “Choking.  F-fingers?  Fingers in my mouth...  Um, haha, I can’t think.  Bondage?  Yeah.  Erm, denial.  Overstimulation.  Puuussy… yes, um, pussy.  On my face please.  Uhh… Punishment.  Pulling my hair… Oh, hello.” 

You take hold of his shoulders and push, guiding him to lay on his back.  He is already panting when you straddle him, his eyes wide when you lean down. 

“Do you still hate me?” he asks when you are millimetres away from his mouth.

You pretend to think about it.

“Hm,” you say with obvious theatricality, stealing a page from his book.  “Yeah.  I hate you so much.  You’re my worst enemy.  Sorry, baby.”

“That’s hot,” he says with a nervous little giggle.  “You’re hot.  You know I think—mmmf.”

You interrupt whatever long-winded joke was incoming.  He does not protest this interruption as it involves a kiss, a good kiss, a deep kiss, one that pushes his head into the plushness of his pillow, one that has him moaning into your mouth.   He lifts his hands to touch you, fingertips barely grazing your bare thighs when you seize his wrists.  You shove them into the bed, pinned on either side of his head.  He bucks under you, his mouth opening under your kiss.  You bite at his bottom lip and drag your teeth, making his hips move even more. 

You break away quickly and just as quickly slap him.  It knocks a surprised breath out of him, his eyes a bit watery when he looks up at you. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, baby,” you say.  “I’m just getting started.”

“Oh my god.” 

You try not to smile but Jisung makes it hard.  You feel flushed with excitement, hot with power and anticipation.  You squeeze his hips between your thighs and push the hem of his shirt up and over his chest.   He whimpers again but doesn’t move, his eyes closing when you hold down his wrists and duck your head. 

“Fuck, oh god,” he murmurs, a constant stream of mumbled expletives as your mouth runs over his chest, kissing and licking and biting, teasing him until he can’t help but buck his hips for friction.   When you feel him fully hard in his jeans you lean back, smirk, then climb off him.  “Oh god, you’re too good at this,” he says, keeping his hands where you left them and gazing at you with wanting eyes. 

You blow him a kiss and shimmy out of your shorts and underwear.  Thoughtlessly he swings a hand down to touch himself, squeezing his dick through his jeans and groaning. 

“Did I tell you that you could—” you start, but he puts his hand back beside his head before you can finish.  His smile is far too innocent.  “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you say. 

“Am I?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Shut up,” you reply, getting back on top of him.  “I still hate you.” 

“Oh god, yes,” he says.  His hips buck into the air as you scoot over his chest.  “More.” 

“I hate you,” you say, moving until your legs are on either side of his head.  “ I hate you so much, Han Jisung.  I’m going to ruin you.” 

“Fuck.” 

He already has his mouth open when you lower onto his face.  You grip the headboard and rock yourself over his tongue, back and forth until he finds your rhythm and takes over.  What he lacks in precision he compensates with eagerness, licking at you without any care for the mess it makes of him, wet and sloppy and hot as his tongue moves inside you then up and down your pussy, circling your clit, sucking, flicking, back and forth, around and around—

“Oh my god,” you say, looking down at where you can see the top of his face, his eyes closed as he works, as he moans, as he squeezes your thighs in his hands and drags his tongue all over you.   You grip the headboard tight when you come, throwing your head back and grinding down against him. 

You lift your hips off his face, hovering above him on shaky thighs.   You shuffle back and sit on his abdomen so you can see him, his eyes wide and wet mouth open as he pants.  He licks his lips and murmurs please, please, please in a hoarse voice. 

“Please?” you repeat, a little out of breath as well. 

You swirl your fingers over his bare chest and fiddle with the t-shirt still bunched under his chin.  He moves his face wherever you push it, tipping his head back, tilting it to the side.  He goes cross-eyed when your fingers dance in front of him, touching his lips.  His mouth falls open and his eyes close when you slide two fingers inside his mouth.  

“Please what, Jisung?” you ask, slowly finger-fucking his mouth.  “What do you want?”

He can’t speak around your fingers so he just whines, digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs. 

“Oh,” you say.  Your giggle is filled with genuine delight, even while your voice is rough.  “I see.  You want to put your dick inside me, baby?  Hmm?  You wanna say you’re sorry and that you’ll be good and let me ride you?” 

“Good, so good,” he says, drooling around your fingers when you slide them out.   He swallows hard, choking on nothing, then nods his head.  “Please, please.   Yes.” 

You lean down and kiss his wet mouth, a chaste peck.  You rub the corner of his lips, smiling at his closed eyes and wrecked expression. 

“Okay,” you say.  “Get ready for me then.”  

You have a string of condoms in your luggage, always tucked in the pocket in case of emergency.  Emergencies like a snow storm trapping you in bed with your former worst enemy turned lover. 

When you get back to him, Jisung is laying there completely naked, flushed and stroking himself as he watches you.   He lets you take his hand off his dick, holds you obediently when you guide his hands to your waist.   He kisses you when you lean down, a hot and heavy kiss as you straddle him again.   It ends when you push him flat and sit back, already grinning because you know you are about to short-circuit his brain.

“Wanna see a trick?” you say, and proceed to put the condom on him with your mouth.   You laugh when you see his face after, his mouth hanging open as he blinks at you. 

“You’re gonna kill me,” he says, but laughs a little. 

His head thunks back into the pillows when you guide him inside you.   You put your hands over his, holding them to your hips as you rock over him.   His chest lifts and falls and his eyes close as he concentrates on not rushing your pace.  He keeps holding your waist firmly when you slide your hands over his chest. 

“Look at me,” you say. 

He blinks his eyes open.  You smile.

“Good boy.” 

He makes a noise that sounds more pained than when you slapped him.  It lights up inside you like fire and you move faster, take him deeper.   You get a bit dizzy with how good it feels, his dick curving up to drive against the softest, most sensitive part of you, sending you hurtling towards another orgasm.  You rub yourself at the same time, looking down at him as he gasps and moans, as he holds your hips and fucks you back. 

You bring your hand to his neck and gently circle it, rubbing yourself harder when he whines with chest-deep desperation. 

“I—I’m gonna—oh god—” he says, squeezing your hips so tightly that you think it might bruise.  

It feels so good, his rough hands coupled with his dick hitting perfectly inside you.  Your whole body draws taut for its crest.   

“Don’t,” you say, laughing a little, not even to be mean but because it feels so good that you feel giddy.  You squeeze his throat and his hips get erratic under you.  “Not yet,” you say.  “Me first.”

“Oh my god,” he says, looking up at you with frantic eyes.  “I—I can’t—I’m gonna—”

“Jisung,” you say, squeezing his throat harder so he makes a choked-up sound that goes straight to your pussy.  “Are you gonna be good or bad?” 

“I’m—I’m—oh god.”

You stop touching yourself because you know he doesn’t stand a chance outlasting you.  You ride him through his orgasm, choking him as he spasms and moans and cries out.   His head lifts for a second, his eyes closed and brows furrowed, then he flops back down with an exhausted heave.  

His eyes open again, watery and huge. 

“Oh fuck,” he says, voice like gravel as you release his throat.  A deep breath shudders out of him.  “Oh… fuck,” he says, dreamily, smiling, then pouting.  “Oh! Fuck!” 

You giggle at him managing to say the same thing in three different voices. 

You slip your fingers into his hair and tug, yanking his head up.  He follows with a gasp. 

“I should hit you again for that,” you say. 

You slide off him, carefully.  He sucks in a ragged, tearful breath when you touch his dick to deal with the condom.  After, you rub your palm on the oversensitive head of it, making him grab at you and cry out.   It squeezes a tear out of him and you kiss it away. 

“Come on,” you say, grabbing him by the hair again.  You get off the bed and drag him to follow.  “I’m not done with you.” 

He is a little shaky and boneless from coming.  His footing is unsteady from the moment he touches the ground, moving with thoughtless obedience.  He thumps down heavily onto his knees.  When he sways, you straighten him.  He blinks up at you, on his knees, already nodding. 

You put your leg over his shoulder and draw him in.  For the second time, he gets you off with his mouth, his hands on your ass and his face buried in your pussy.  You sink your fingers in his hair and let it wash over you, humming happily when you are finished. 

You lower your leg off his shoulder.  Jisung slumps backwards, leaning against the bed and breathing hard, his face and hair a mess. 

“Wow,” he says.  He looks up at you.  “That was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

You laugh, feeling hot and flushed but satisfied.  

“Me too,” you say, making him smile. 

You help him back into the bed because his legs seem a little numb.  You lay beside him, rubbing the inside of his thigh as he kisses all over your face.   You giggle then fall into a proper kiss, winding around each other affectionately.  

“I’m gonna send Chan a gift basket,” Jisung says, making you snort.  “I am!  Thank you for having a family emergency, your timing couldn’t be better.”

You tip your head and look at him with confusion.

“Family emergency?” you say.  “He told me he was working?”

“Working?”  Jisung furrows his brow.  “Huh?  We don’t have anything coming up at work.  He phoned me from the road and said he was heading out to visit family?  He said he wouldn’t be back all week-end.” 

“He told me he was stuck working and would see me tomorrow,” you say, your eyes narrowing as you slowly put two-and-two and together.  

“I didn’t even know why he was asking me and not Changbin or something,” Jisung continues to muse aloud.  “He said you were wanting to talk to me, though, so I figured—”

“I never said that!  I mean, I’m glad we did but…”  You sit up, glaring at the wall.

Jisung bursts into laughter, covering his mouth as he looks at you. 

“Did Chan hustle us?” he asks. 

“He threw us together in a snow storm so we’d be forced to reconcile!”

“I don’t think Chan can control the weather—”

“Oh, he definitely can.  I bet he delayed the bridge himself—”

Jisung laughs some more, kissing the side of your face lovingly while you continue to glare contemptuously at the wall. 

“Well,” you say, looking at him.  You kiss him sweetly on the nose and he smiles at you.  “That’s fine,” you say.  “A vacancy for my sworn enemy just opened up.  Looks like I found a replacement.” 

“I’m good with that,” Jisung says.  “But… you’re not allowed to enemy-fuck him like that.  That’s just for me, right?” 

You settle in his arms, forgetting about Chan for the time being, forgetting to glare, forgetting about everything that happened before tonight.  You smile at him, brushing a bit of hair off his sweaty forehead.  He is still flushed and beautiful, his hopeful eyes locked on yours.  He smiles back. 

“Yeah,” you say.  “It’s only ever been just you, Jisung.” 

He visibly melts, his laugh a breathless thing.  He leans in and kisses you and you hold his face, kissing him back.  You can feel him smiling against your lips and you smile too. 

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Through the Static

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley X Female!Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of injuries, brief mentions of drinking, fluff

Authors Note: Hope you enjoy! The reader is a radio operator in this one while Ghostie is injured.

Word Count: 1k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The forest was a maze of shifting shadows and biting cold, the moonlight barely cutting through the dense canopy. Ghost pressed a gloved hand to his side, blood soaking through the makeshift bandage he'd hastily wrapped around the wound. He didn’t stop moving. He couldn’t.

His comms had been destroyed in the ambush, but the battered field radio he'd salvaged crackled faintly in his ear. It was his only connection to the outside world, his only chance at survival.

“Come on,” he muttered under his breath, adjusting the knobs. Static hissed, wavered, and then—

“This is Operator Delta… Anyone receiving? Over.”

Ghost’s hand froze. A voice.

“This is Bravo-Zero-Six,” he rasped, his voice low and strained. “Stranded. Injured. No extraction in sight. Location unknown. Over.”

A pause followed, then your voice returned, calm and steady.

“Bravo-Zero-Six, I’ve got you. Can you describe your surroundings? Over.”

Ghost exhaled through his nose, forcing his mind to focus. “Forest. Sparse cover. Northwest of the last known position. Nightfall. No landmarks.”

“Copy that,” you said, your tone professional but warm. “Head north. I’ll guide you to a safe zone. Stay on this channel, and keep moving. You’re not alone, Bravo-Zero-Six. Over.”

Not alone. The words shouldn’t have mattered, but they did. Ghost adjusted his pack and began moving again.

Hours stretched on, his body growing heavier with each step. The cold seeped through his gear, and the ache in his side turned sharper, each breath a reminder of the shrapnel lodged there. But your voice on the radio was constant, grounding.

“Still with me, Bravo-Zero-Six?”

“Still here,” he muttered, his voice taut with pain.

“How’s the injury?”

“Manageable.”

“Sure it is,” you replied, a teasing note slipping into your tone. “You’re not going to impress me by bleeding out quietly, Ghost.”

He huffed a breath that might have been a laugh. “Wasn’t trying to.”

“Well, good,” you said. “Because I’d like you alive enough to buy me a drink when this is over.”

Ghost blinked, caught off guard by the casual boldness of your remark. He hadn’t expected warmth, humor—not from someone on the other end of a radio in a dire situation.

“Make it out alive,” he said, his tone gruff but not unfriendly, “and we’ll talk.”

The clearing you’d guided him to came into view just as Ghost’s legs threatened to give out. The faint thrum of helicopter blades reached his ears, growing louder as he stumbled forward, each step heavier than the last.

He collapsed onto his knees, his vision blurring as his body finally gave in. Your voice crackled in his ear one last time, soft and steady.

“Hold on, Ghost. They’ve got you now.”

The recovery ward was quiet, the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the steady beep of a heart monitor the only sounds. Ghost blinked against the brightness, his body heavy with exhaustion but alive.

The radio on the bedside table caught his eye—a battered relic from the field, but the sight of it brought back the sound of your voice, the hours of guidance that had kept him moving.

The door creaked open, and his gaze snapped toward it.

“Permission to enter, Bravo-Zero-Six?”

Your voice, softer in person but instantly recognizable, sent a strange flicker of warmth through him. You stepped inside, a faint smile on your lips as you approached his bedside.

“Ghost,” he said, nodding slightly.

“Operator Delta,” you replied with a small grin. “But some people call me Daisy. It’s a nickname.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, the closest thing to a smile he’d managed in days. “Pleasure to meet you properly.”

A pause hung in the air, heavy with unspoken gratitude. Finally, he added, his voice softer than usual, “But you can call me Simon.”

Your eyes flickered with surprise, your smile softening. “Simon, then.” You sat down in the chair beside him, leaning forward slightly muttering your name to him, “But Daisy works, too.”

The room fell quiet again, not awkward but comfortable, the weight of everything that had happened settling between you.

Weeks passed before Simon was cleared for light duty. When he finally reached out to you, it was through an unassuming message:

“You still want that drink, Daisy?”

The bar he chose was quiet, tucked into a corner of town far from the noise and bustle of crowded streets. Simon arrived early, dressed casually in a dark jacket and jeans. His mask was gone, though the balaclava he wore was a reminder of the man most people knew him to be.

When you walked in, he stood, his sharp blue eyes tracking your every move. You smiled when you saw him, and something in his chest eased.

“I was starting to think you’d chicken out,” you teased as you slid into the seat across from him.

“Not a chance,” he said, his voice lighter than usual.

The conversation flowed easier than he’d expected. You talked about everything and nothing—the absurdity of some missions, favorite songs, even the meaning behind your nickname.

“Daisy?” he asked, a brow lifting.

You laughed softly. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say I’ve got a habit of finding light in dark places.”

Simon didn’t say anything, but the faintest smile tugged at his lips.

When the night came to an end, he walked you to your car, the cold night air nipping at his skin.

“You surprised me, Simon,” you said as you turned to face him.

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t think someone like you would keep a promise like this.”

He tilted his head, his gaze steady. “You kept me alive, Daisy. Least I could do.”

The warmth in your smile made something in him shift, something he couldn’t quite name. For the first time in years, he thought that maybe—just maybe—he didn’t have to face everything alone.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[rhys-writes-some-shit]

"Sing to Me?"

Alastor x Reader (QP)

Yawning, you trudged out of the bathroom, drying your hair loosely with a towel. You were warm from your shower and the filling meal you'd had a little while earlier. Alastor was probably the best chef you knew, a fact you were extremely proud of. Even if your preferred form of protein was banned from the hotel premises, Alastor was always able to make do with what he had.

Despite it being late at night, you grabbed your laptop (a very rare, not VoxTech one) to work on some paperwork. You'd promised your boss to get these spreadsheets done, and you weren't one to shirk on your promises. Yawning again, you tuned your old-fashioned radio before settling down with your laptop. The radio had been a gift from Alastor. Many late nights had been spent listening to his broadcasts. They'd always been a comfort, even before you'd signed a contract with him.

Some light jazz filtered through the static, one of your favorite songs. Alastor knew you were listening. Smiling lightly, you started typing away.

The music was occasionally interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream or a sharp whimper. Your smile never left, humming along while Alastor had his fun. Part of you was vaguely aware that the radio show was now being broadcast all throughout Hell, that you didn't even need the radio, but you liked it, so it stayed on.

The spreadsheets were simple enough. With the radio in the background, you were able to focus just enough that the job came naturally. In the back of your mind, you started going over the next day’s schedule.

You'd ended up zoning out while you typed, not even noticing how the radio switched to static and then turned off by itself.

A single knock preceded Alastor's entrance, enough to break you from your thoughts. You were quick to notice the faint blood splatter on the sole of Alastor’s shoes, the only evidence of his previous activities.

“My dear, you know how I abhor those vile machines,” Alastor reprimanded, walking and starting to subconsciously organize your room. A chair was pushed in, a painting adjusted so it was even, the bottom drawer of your dresser lightly closed.

“Yeah, yeah.” You grinned to yourself. “I need it to do my job, Al. Besides, do you have any idea how hard it is to find a piece of electronic equipment that's not created by VoxTech?”

“All the more reason to get rid of it.” Alastor walked over to the window and stared out at it. He was a little lost in thought himself, it would seem.

Typing a line, you said, “I liked your broadcast.”

“I'm glad.”

He was quiet. Something was wrong. Your grin died down, pushing your laptop to the side. Alastor’s smile was still there, but dimmer. Sadder.

“Al? You okay?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with, dearest,” Alastor replied, a slight edge in his voice.

You wanted to push. To get him to talk to you. But you knew it wouldn't be worth it. If anything, he'd just get upset or shut down more.

“You know, sometimes I wonder what would've happened if we'd met while we were alive,” You said nonchalantly. “I mean, obviously that would've been impossible in the first place, considering I wasn't even born when you died, but I just wonder about it.”

“What a ridiculous thing to wonder about!” Alastor laughed a little. “As you said, it would have been impossible. And why think about being alive when we have all of death to enjoy?” His tone lightened a bit. “There is so much entertainment to be had! Life was quite dull, comparably.”

You wondered for a moment, trying to figure out where to lead the conversation. “Where did you live, when you were alive? You already know where I lived when I was alive, it's only fair I know where you lived.”

Alastor’s grin softened a bit, still sad, but with a hint of happiness in there. Nostalgia, if you had to guess. “New Orleans, Louisiana. I lived there with my mother. I had a delightful job as a radio host.”

“You're still a radio host,” you teased playfully. “What was it like, back then?”

“Ah, it was… entertaining.” He didn't say anything more, lost in thought as he leaned on his cane. You were vaguely aware that you were the only person who ever saw him like this. Alastor wore his smile like armor, guarding himself with a nonchalant facade, but very rarely, behind closed doors, the guard would fall, just for a little while.

Just as you were about to open your mouth to ask another question, Alastor spoke, “You seem quite tired, my dear. Maybe it is time we part ways for the evening.”

Pressing your lips together, you knew he was right. You really should be getting to bed, but you were worried about Alastor. You hadn't seen him like this before, so it was impossible to guess what he'd do once he was alone.

“You really should learn to hide your emotions better.” Alastor turned suddenly, chucking to himself. “There is nothing to worry about, darling. I am perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, you say that, but for some reason I don't believe you.” Stifling a yawn, you gave Alastor a look.

“Now, now, don't be like that.” Alastor came and sat on the edge of the bed, using his magic to set the laptop on top of the dresser. “What can I do to convince you to sleep?”

Leaning back, you thought for a moment. When the idea hit you, your face flushed with embarrassment for a moment, but you swallowed the anxiety. He did ask, after all.

“Sing to me?”

Alastor laughed, causing you to glare. “Again with the ridiculous ideas!” When your face fell subconsciously, Alastor hesitated.

When he didn't say anything, you accepted the fact that it was a ridiculous request. Assuming he'd leave the room on his own accord, you used your magic to turn out the lights as you slid under the covers of your bed. You never did get all those spreadsheets done like you'd wanted.

“Parlez-moi d’amour.”

Alastor’s slightly-static-filled voice was quiet. His eyes faintly glowed in the dark and you watched him with wide eyes.

“Redites-moi des choses tendres.”

Smiling softly, you sank into the bed, closing your eyes and allowing Alastor’s comforting voice to wash over you.

“Votre beau discours /

“Mon cœur n'est pas las de l'entendre /

“Pourvu que toujours /

“Vous répétiez ces mots suprêmes /

“Je vous aime.”

((The song))

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

🥒🥒

pairing: dom minho x fem reader

genre: smut

word count: almost 2.2k exactly

warnings: food play (don’t do what you’re about to read. it’s not sanitary), punishment, slight degradation and name calling (out of my comfort zone, i’m a praise girlie. degradation usually makes me sad but i wanted to try.)

an: @whatudowhennooneseesyou recommended a few ideas for minho’s birthday. one of which was food play. which i was very interested in writing. so here it is. :) i completely deleted everything i had written for this and started over like a few hours ago. so fingers crossed that it’s not absolute garbage. i just couldn’t seem to get this one to my standards. but the birthday is here and it’s time to post. so lmk what you think. unless you hate it. then maybe don’t tell me. cuz im soft and ill cry. ♡

ᯓᡣ𐭩 happy birthday minho! ᯓᡣ𐭩

masterlist

‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼ adults only • mdni ‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼

————— ୨୧ —————

minho had been your boyfriend for years now. you thought you knew everything there was to know about him. but he somehow still managed to surprise you from time to time. and tonight was one of those nights.

it was your anniversary and the apartment was filled with the smell of him cooking dinner. the sky was dark outside, the sun having gone down a while ago now, the stars twinkling overhead, not a cloud in sight. the apartment was quiet. you didn’t have the tv on, or the radio. but it was a comfortable silence. neither one of you feeling the need to talk, but instead just enjoying being in each others presence. just the sounds of him cooking and you sipping on your wine.

you stood in the kitchen with him, but you knew to stay out of the way. you leaned against the far end of the counter, letting him do his thing.

you watched him. his black short sleeve shirt clung to his chest, his sweatpants loose on his hips. and his favorite apron tied around his waist. you had given it to him the year prior as an anniversary present. he had his back to you now, but you knew the words ‘kiss the cook’ adorned the front of the white material. the muscles in his back flexed as he cut up some vegetables.

you weren’t sure if it was the influence of the wine, but your mind started thinking some dirty things about him and his back muscles. you remembered how you could see the muscles in his shoulders working when he had his head between your thighs and his arms wrapped around your legs holding you in place, his tongue buried deep in your heat.

you rubbed your legs together, trying to get some friction. but it was no use. you watched him as he moved from the cutting board to the stove, tossing his freshly cut vegetables into the pan. you could see his side profile now, his sharp jawline and nose, his pouty little lips as he concentrated. what you wouldn’t give to have those lips on you right now.

“you’re staring.” he said, his voice loud in the surrounding silence.

“you’re pretty.” you replied simply.

he looked over at you, your flushed cheeks, half empty wine glass in your hand, your thighs rubbing together.

“oh i see.” he turned his attention back to the dinner and stirred the contents of the pan. “you’re needy.”

you sat your wine glass down and approached him. you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your lips to his shoulder. you kissed the material of his shirt and then inhaled his scent, his cologne only making your problem worse.

“you just look so sexy when you’re cooking. i can’t help but stare.”

he turned around in your hold, facing you now. he looked down at you, and brushed your hair out of your eyes. he kissed you gently on the mouth before starting to push you away. “this pan is hot and you’re drunk. you don’t need to be near the stove.”

you rolled your eyes. “i am not drunk. ive had like half of a glass.”

he had his hands on your hips, pushing you across the kitchen until your lower back hit the countertop opposite the stove. his arms were on either side of you, caging you in. “did you just roll your eyes at me?” he asked, his voice deep and challenging.

you realized your mistake. rolling your eyes is one of the things that minho doesn’t take lightly. he’s punished you for it before in the past. but somehow it’s become quite a habit of yours. maybe because his punishments always ended with him buried inside of you.

you shook your head no, feigning innocence. “i didn’t roll my eyes.” you looked up at him through your lashes, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

“no.. see i think you did.”

he turned around and switched the stove off, removing the pan from the heat.

“won’t that ruin dinner?” you asked.

“oh this won’t take long.”

he wrapped his arms around your thighs and lifted you up onto the counter. the surface was ice cold through your clothes. he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your pants, along with your panties, and pulled them off in one fluid motion.

“you’re fucking soaked.” he said, running his index finger through your folds and around your puffy clit. “just like a slut to always be ready, huh?”

he slipped two fingers inside, pumping them slowly, your wet sounds filling the previously silent space around you. your head fell back, your mouth open, soft whines falling past your lips.

he continued to finger you, curling his digits in a way that he knows you love, the sounds of your arousal only growing louder. his fingers were covered and so was the counter underneath you. he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking on it gently before circling it with his tongue.

“fuck—“ you mumbled, your hands grasping for anything to hold onto, to ground yourself but finding no purchase on the smooth counter.

“fuck you taste good.” he said, removing himself from your core, but still sliding his fingers in and out. “i always love the taste of you on my tongue.”

“please min..”

he slowed his motions to an agonizing pace, your pussy desperate to be filled, to be stretched.

he raised an eyebrow at you.“please what?”

you caught your bottom lip in between your teeth. “please.. fuck me. please. i need it.” you begged.

“oh but this is a punishment. only good girls get cock.” he took his free hand and slapped your pussy, stinging your clit. “you remember how you rolled your eyes at me?”

“i didn’t— i.. fuck— i’m sorry minho! please!”

“oh poor little slut, begging and crying for some cock. but you don’t deserve it. i can’t reward bad behavior.” his fingers were still moving so slow, your pussy practically crying for stimulation at this point. his hand was covered in your arousal.

“tell you what..” he started, looking over his shoulder at something. “i’ll fuck you.”

relief washed over you. “thank you minho..” you sighed. “thank you.”

he reached behind him to the opposite counter and grabbed something in his hand. he turned back to you with a smirk on his face as he held up his item between your legs.

“a cucumber?” you asked, confused. your brain was foggy with need but surely you were imagining this?

“i know it’s not as big around as i am, but it’ll do.” he said, removing his fingers from your hole. he brought the vegetable to your mouth. “open.”

you did as you were told and flopped your tongue out. he pressed the cucumber against your tongue and told you to suck. “get it all nice and wet. and don’t you dare bite it.”

you moved your tongue up and down and around, coating the bumpy texture with your saliva.

“there you go, finally doing what you’re told.”

you whimpered under him as he removed the vegetable from your mouth and brought it down to between your legs. he rubbed it against your slit. it was cold, but didn’t feel terrible as it touched your clit. he prodded your entrance with it, looking up at you, giving you one last chance to use your safe word, to tell him this was crazy and to stop. but honestly, it was kind of hot. and you were so needy. and if this is all he was going to give you, then you’d take it. you trusted him completely.

giving him a small nod, he pushed it inside of you. it was roughly the same shape, but minho was right, it definitely wasn’t as girthy as his cock. but as he slowly kept pushing it further and further, you realized it wasn’t as thick, but it was longer. it reached places inside of you that his cock has never touched. you missed the stretch that his cock gave you, but this… this was good too.

a soft moan slipped out of your mouth, telling minho everything he needed to know. he slowly pulled the cucumber back out, and then thrust it back in again, the tip hitting your cervix.

“fuck..” you moaned, your orgasm already building.

he moved faster and faster, his free hand snaking under your shirt to pinch at your nipples.

“such a dirty fuckin slut.” he spat. “letting me fuck you with a vegetable.”

your neck and ears flushed at his words but you didn’t care. it felt too good. it hit that perfect spot inside of you over and over, the ball in your tummy getting tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

“are you going to cum?” he asked, his tone laced with disgust, though you knew that was an act. he thought this was the hottest thing that he’s ever done to you. “you’ll take anything in this pussy, won’t you? anything that might make you cum.”

he took the hand that was pinching your nipples and used it to rub your clit. you gasped at the feeling, writhing in pleasure on the kitchen counter.

“you’re such a fucking whore. go ahead and cum.”

and you did. your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave, your whole body seizing up and spasming. his name fell repeatedly out of your mouth like a mantra. your pussy clamped down so tight he could barely keep pumping to help you through your high. finally, you collapsed against the counter, your body weak and occasionally twitching with aftershocks.

carefully he pulled the cucumber out of you, a creamy white ring around its center. he placed it on the counter before turning back in your direction. he knelt down and licked your pussy clean, careful not to overstimulate you, but humming in pleasure at the taste. and then he retrieved your panties and pajama pants from the floor and slipped them back on you.

he helped you down from the counter, your legs weak and shaky. he scooped you up in his arms, bridal style and carried you to the couch. he gently sat you down and pulled a blanket across your lap, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead before meeting your gaze.

“you doin okay, pretty?” he asked, smiling.

you nodded, a blissful look on your face, head still too fuzzy to speak.

“will you be okay here while i go finish cooking dinner?” he cradled your face in his hands. you nodded again, pulling the blanket higher up around yourself. he kissed the tip of your nose. “i’ll be right back.” and he headed back to the kitchen.

you could hear the sounds of him cooking. more chopping, and the pan sizzling. you could hear him opening cabinets and opening the fridge. could hear the silverware clinking against the plates. you sat on the couch, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, brain empty, and waited for him.

after a short time, he returned with two plates in his hands. he sat them both down on the coffee table and went back to the kitchen, only to return with two glasses of water. he sat down next to you, grabbing his plate and bringing it to his lap. you watched him as he brought the fork to his mouth, the sound crunchy as he chewed. he looked at you and laughed out loud at your expression.

“aren’t you going to eat, baby?” he asked, bringing another piece of the cut up cucumber to his lips. you looked at your own plate and noticed it was absent of cucumber. you looked at him confused.

“i didn’t want to force you into anything.” he explained. “but if you want some, you can have some of mine.” he speared a piece of the vegetable on his fork and pointed it in your direction. “it’s delicious. i can still faintly taste you. though i can’t tell if it’s leftover on my tongue, or if it’s actually from the cucumber.”

you looked from his fork, back to him, and back to his fork again. had he really fucked you with a cucumber and then continued to cook it and is now eating it in front of you? minho was full of surprises.

you leaned forward and wrapped your lips around the cucumber, pulling it off his fork. you chewed it slowly, analyzing the taste. “no.. i can’t taste me too.” you said, your voice raspy from not speaking for a while.

his eyes rolled back in his head, he grabbed his hard cock through his sweatpants. “fuck.. baby. watching you eat that about made me bust.”

you giggled. “well let’s finish eating and i’ll help you out with that.”

“i don’t know if ill make it through the whole meal. especially if you’re going to eat more of this.” he pointed to the green vegetable on his plate.

“mmm..” you hummed. “feed me another piece.” you opened your mouth wide.

he picked up a piece with his fork. “you’re going to be the death of me.”

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