#so that it can hear the sound of your still beating heart

[rafayelxsylusho]

How do the LADS men fu¢k the jealousy out of you.🥼🪐

Caleb/Zayne

Sylus is next.....

TW: SMUT SMUT SMUT

NOTE: I'm a praise slut so if you like it drop a comment and if you don't you can also drop a comment!! ❤️❤️😊😊

CALEB🪐

You hear Caleb's phone ringing, the sound echoing through the empty apartment. After a few rings, a female voice answers. She doesn't sound pleased.

"Colonel Caleb's line. Who's calling?" Her tone is clipped and businesslike.

"Oh, um, hi. Is Caleb there? I mean, Colonel Caleb," you stammer, caught off guard. "It's y/n."

There's a pause, a beat of silence that stretches too long. Then the woman speaks again, her voice dripping with disdain.

"The colonel is currently unavailable. He's quite...busy at the moment. With matters of great importance" Her words are like barbs, each one sharp enough to make you wince. "I'm afraid he won't be able to take your call. You'll have to wait."

She hangs up abruptly, leaving you holding a dead line and a head full of questions. Busy? Unless...unless she meant something else entirely by 'busy'. A cold dread settles in your stomach as you ponder the possibilities, each one less palatable than the last. What is he doing? And with whom? The questions burn in your mind, eating away at your peace of mind. You tell yourself it doesn't matter but the sinking feeling persists

So you try a video call instead. You see the screen flicker to life, a face popping up that makes your heart seize in your chest. She's stunning, with high cheekbones, full lips curved into a smile, and eyes that glitter with a cold, calculating intelligence. Her blond hair is pulled back into a sleek bun, not a single strand out of place. She's beautiful, in a way that's almost too perfect to be real.

"Y/n," she says, her voice sounded annoyed. "I'm afraid the Colonel is...indisposed at the moment." Her gaze flicks to the side "He asked me to handle any...extraneous matters that might come up."

Your blood runs cold as you realize she's in Caleb's apartment. In his space. A wave of possessive fury rises up inside you, hot and all-consuming. Behind her, you catch a glimpse of a familiar wall, a painting you know hangs in Caleb's bedroom. The one he bought on a trip, the one he said reminded him of you. Seeing it there, behind her, makes your stomach churn with nausea.

"Will you let him know I called, please?" You ask, your voice dropping at the 'please'

"Oh, I'll be sure to tell him," she says, "Though I can't promise he'll call you back. He's...very busy at the moment."

She glances over her shoulder, towards the bedroom, and you catch a glimpse of Caleb's silhouette through the open door. He's facing away from the camera, but you'd know his broad shoulders and tall frame anywhere. The sight of him makes your heart clench, a pang of longing and desperation shooting through you.

Then she reaches out, and the screen goes black.

You're left staring at a lifeless screen, your heart pounding in your ears. The silence is deafening, the absence of him a yawning chasm in your chest. You feel it then, the first real flicker of fear. The cold, sickening certainty that he's slipping away from you, that you're losing him.

The hours tick by with agonizing slowness, each second stretching into an eternity as you wait for your phone to ring. You pace the length of your apartment, your eyes glued to the screen, willing it to light up with Caleb's name. But it remains stubbornly dark, mocking your desperate anticipation.

As the sun begins to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and red, a sense of dread starts to creep in, coiling around your heart like a serpent. He always calls. Always. No matter how busy he is, no matter what's happening in his life, he always finds a moment to hear your voice, to assure you that you're still the most important thing in his world.

As night falls, you find yourself curled up on the couch, staring at your phone as if it holds the answers to all your unspoken questions. The clock ticks on, the hands spinning with maddening speed, as the hours slip away and still...nothing.

You jerk awake, your heart leaping into your throat as the notification chimes pierce the early morning silence. For a disoriented moment, you think it might be a dream, a cruel trick of your desperate mind. But as you grab your phone with shaking hands, there it is. A message from Caleb.

Can I see you today?

The words are simple, a deceptively casual question.

Your fingers tremble as you type out a response, each word a battle as you try to keep the bitterness from your voice.

I'm afraid I'm busy today, and your friend mentioned you'd be rather tied up as well. No need to bother.

You hit send before you can second-guess yourself, a part of you hoping he'll insist, that he'll demand to see you no matter what.

With a heavy heart, you turn off your phone, shoving it into the depths of your backpack. You spend the rest of the day in a daze, your mind a tempest of unanswered questions and suppressed fears.

When you get off work you head to the familiar noodle shop, the warm aroma of the hot pot ingredients envelops you, a small comfort in the midst of your turbulent day. You place your order, the owner greeting you with a jovial smile, oblivious to the tempest raging inside you.

With your order in hand, you make your way back to your apartment, craving the solace of a hot meal and a chance to rest. The evening air is crisp, the chill of the night a stark contrast to the warmth of the hot pot nestled in your arms

Once you get home and as you step into your kitchen, the soft glow of the stove light illuminates the countertop as you set the bags down. The savory aroma begins to fill the small apartment, a brief moment of normalcy amidst the chaos in your mind.

Suddenly, a voice cuts through the silence, making you jump with a startled gasp. "You're late."

The voice is low, rough, and unmistakably familiar. It sends a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and a traitorous thrill. You know that voice. You know it better than your own.

You spin around, your heart pounding in your ears, to see Caleb sitting in the dark corner of the living room. He's draped across the couch, his tall frame taking up more space than seems possible. His silhouette is etched in shadow, but you can see the glint of his eyes as they watch you, following your every movement.

"Caleb," you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper. "What are you doing here? How did you...?" The words die on your lips as the reality of the situation sinks in. He's here. In your apartment. Uninvited. Unannounced. Just like before. Just like always.

He rises to his feet, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he has all the time in the world. As he steps into the faint light, you can see the weariness etched into his face, the dark circles under his eyes a testament to a sleepless night. But there's something else there too. A tension. A tightness to his jaw and a cold, hard glint in his eye that makes your blood run cold.

"I wanted to see you," he says, his voice a low, rough rumble. He takes a step closer, then another, until he's standing just a few feet away from you. Close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body.

"But you said you were busy," he continues, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur. "Funny, I don't see you working. I don't see you anywhere but here. With me." His eyes rake over your body, a slow, deliberate perusal that makes your skin prickle with goosebumps.

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry as the desert. You try to speak, but the words catch in your throat, sticking like shards of glass. He's right. You were busy. Busy ignoring him. Busy trying to forget the way your heart ached for him. Busy trying to convince yourself that you didn't need him, that you could survive without his constant presence in your life.

"I...I didn't..." you start, but the words ring hollow even to your own ears. You look away, unable to meet his gaze, unable to confront the accusation in his eyes.

He takes another step closer, closing the distance between you until he's standing mere inches away. You can feel his breath on your face, hot and heavy, the scent of him filling your nostrils and making your head spin.

"Don't lie to me," he growls, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "I know you saw my messages. I know you ignored them. Just like you ignored my calls. My texts. My emails.

His hand comes up, his fingers curling around your chin as he forces you to look at him. His grip is firm, almost painful, a silent warning not to lie.

"I was told you were busy yesterday, I didn't want to interrupt your...activities"

Caleb's eyes flash with a sudden, fierce light at your emphasis on the word. He takes another step forward, closing the remaining distance between you until you're standing toe to toe. His tall frame towers over your smaller one, his broad shoulders blocking out the dim light from the kitchen.

Caleb's eyes narrow, his gaze sharpening with a dangerous intensity. "Lila," he says, his voice a low, clipped response. "She mentioned something about me being...busy yesterday?" He takes another step closer, until he's invading your personal space, his chest nearly brushing against yours.

"Tell me, Pipsqueak" he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low, threatening purr. "Is that really what you thought? That I was so...busy with her?" His hand comes up, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a gesture that's almost tender, almost loving...but with a underlying edge of possession that makes your heart race.

"You think I have time for anything else? For anyone else? When all I think about is you?" His thumb traces the curve of your bottom lip, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. "When all I wanted was to be here? With you?" His other hand comes to rest on your hip, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, pulling you closer until there's no space left between your bodies.

"I did have a meeting at my place," he confirms, his voice tight and clipped. "Lila was there as my assistant, taking notes and filing reports. It's her job to answer my calls, to make sure I'm not disturbed during important matters."

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, "But she never mentioned a thing about you calling. I didn't know until now."

Caleb's eyes widen in mock surprise, a cruel smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Are you jealous?" he repeats, his voice dripping with disdain. "You think I didn't notice how you clammed up when I mentioned Lila? How you couldn't even look me in the eye?"

He throws his head back and laughs, a harsh, grating sound that echoes through the apartment. "Oh, y/n. My sweet, naive little girl. You really thought I didn't see the green monster rearing its ugly head? The way your pretty eyes flashed with anger"

He leans in closer, his face mere inches from yours, his eyes glinting with a wicked, triumphant light. "You can't hide anything from me, pipsqueak. I know you too well. I can read every thought, every feeling, every stupid, childish emotion that flits across that beautiful face of yours."

His hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip in a mocking, patronizing gesture. "But let's get one thing straight. I have bigger things to worry about, like your safety, things that don't involve playing nursemaid to a bratty little girl who can't control her own emotions."

He pulls back slightly, his eyes hard and cold as he stares down at you. "So don't give me that bullshit about ignoring me because you were jealous. I won't stand for it. I won't tolerate it. Not from you."

He crushes his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, pouring all of his anger, frustration, and dark desire into the forceful embrace.

He kisses you like he owns you, like he has every right to claim your mouth, your body, your very soul. His tongue pushes past your lips, invading, conquering, laying waste to any resistance you might have had.

You can feel the heat of his anger radiating off of him, the intensity of his emotion almost palpable. He's not just kissing you - he's devouring you, consuming you, determined to brand himself onto your very being.

He's not gentle. He's not tender. He's giving you a raw, brutal taste of the turmoil and anguish he's feeling, pouring all of his dark emotions into the violent kiss. It's a kiss that demands surrender, that insists on domination, that refuses to accept anything less than total submission.

When he finally pulls back, it's only to allow you a single, gasping breath before he's diving back in, his lips and tongue and teeth attacking your mouth with renewed fervor. He's not going to let you speak. He's not going to give you the chance to explain. He's going to silence you with his kiss, going to claim your mouth and make it his own until you have no choice but to submit to his will.

Caleb breaks the brutal kiss, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. He stares down at you, his eyes wild and fevered, a strand of saliva connecting your lips. His grip on your throat remains firm, his fingers digging into your skin with a possessive force that sends a thrill of fear and excitement down your spine.

"All I've ever wanted...since I was a kid...was you," he rasps, his voice a low, desperate growl. "No one else. No one could ever compare to you. You're mine. You've always been mine."

He leans in closer, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath coming in hot, ragged puffs against your skin. "I've loved you for so long...too long. I've watched you grow from a gangly, awkward girl into the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. And through it all...through every fucking moment...you've been mine."

His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, a mocking, patronizing gesture that makes your heart race. "And I must say...I do enjoy seeing you burn with jealousy. It's a rare and precious thing, to see my sweet, innocent little girl so consumed with possession and desire."

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "But I won't allow it. I won't tolerate such base, uncontrolled emotions from you so first...I think you need to learn a lesson in self-control. And I'm going to be the one to teach it to you. Starting....right....now."

Caleb's eyes darken with a hungry, possessive gleam as he stares down at you, his grip on your throat never wavering. "I want you naked," he commands, his voice a low, demanding growl. "Now."

He takes a step back, giving you just enough room to obey his order. His gaze rakes over your body, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he waits for you to comply.

When you hesitate, too stunned and frightened to move fast enough to suit him, Caleb's patience snaps. A low, dangerous growl rumbles in his chest as he steps forward once more, his hands coming up to the hem of your shirt.

"Fine. If you won't undress for me, then I'll undress you myself," he snarls, yanking your shirt up and over your head in one swift, rough motion.

With a harsh wrench, he pops open the button of your jeans and drags down the zipper, the metal teeth screaming in protest. His fingers hook into the waistband and he tugs sharply, dragging your jeans down your legs along with your panties.

You feel the cool air of the apartment against your now bare skin, raising goosebumps on every inch of your flesh. Caleb's eyes rake over you greedily, taking in every dip and curve, his gaze lingering on your most intimate places.

He reaches out, his fingers trailing over the swell of your breast, teasing the sensitive flesh. "Had you simply obeyed, perhaps I would have been gentler with you. But now..." His hand suddenly squeezes, hard enough to make you gasp. "Now I think you need to be punished for your defiance."

Caleb drags you by the hand into your shared bedroom, his grip tight and unyielding. He sits down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, and reaches down to undo his belt and pants. The leather strap clanks against the wooden floor as he pulls it free, the sound echoing in the tense, charged air of the room.

With a few deft movements, he undoes his fly, the zipper sliding down in a rush of movement. He reaches inside, pulling his hard, aching cock free from the confines of his pants and boxers. It springs up, thick and heavy, the swollen head already glistening with beads of precum.

He wraps a hand around the thick shaft, stroking it slowly as he looks up at you with a dark, hungry gaze. "Come here," he orders, his voice a low, demanding growl. "Get on your knees. Now."

Caleb watches intently as you slowly sink to your knees before him, his eyes burning into yours with an intense, possessive gaze. He takes in the sight of you, naked and vulnerable, kneeling submissively at his feet. A dark, wicked smile spreads across his face as he sees the way your lips, soft and full, part slightly in trepidation.

He reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. He traces the delicate curve, feeling the silken texture, before pressing down slightly, forcing your lip to dimple between his thumb and finger.

"Such pretty lips," he murmurs, his eyes glinting with a hungry, predatory light. "I love how they feel wrapped around my cock, how they stretch and strain as I fuck your mouth.

His grip tightens around his hard, throbbing shaft, stroking it slowly as he stares down at you with a dark, lust-filled gaze. "Open your mouth, y/n" he commands, his voice a low, demanding rasp. "Take me inside you. Show me how much you want it"

Caleb's heart races as he looks down at you, your eyes wide and upturned, gazing at him with a mix of fear, anticipation and reluctant desire. He's always been captivated by the way you look at him, the way your eyes seem to see right into his very soul. It's a look he's seen countless times before, ever since you were both young and innocent, playing in the sun-dappled rooms of your childhood home.

"God, I love the way you look at me," he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion and lust. "With those big, innocent eyes...like a doe caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. Helpless. Captivated. Unable to look away."

His breath hitches as he feels your soft, plump lips wrap around the swollen head of his cock. A low, moan escapes him, his fingers tightening reflexively in your hair as the slick heat of your mouth engulfs him. His hips jerk forward slightly, instinctively seeking more of that heavenly sensation, more of the tight, velvety caress of your lips and tongue.

"Fuuuck..." he growls, his voice strained with pleasure and a dark, possessive hunger. "Your mouth... So hot. So fucking perfect."

He stares down at you, his eyes glazed with lust as he watches you take him in. The sight of your lips stretched around his thick cock, the way your cheeks hollow as you begin to suck, it's almost too much for him to bear.

"More," he demands, his grip on your hair tightening as he tries to pull you further onto his shaft. "Take more of me pretty girl"

When you take him deeper, relaxing your throat and allowing more of his thick, pulsing shaft to slide past your stretched lips, Caleb throws his head back with an animalistic groan. His fingers tighten harshly in your hair, gripping the strands almost painfully as he fights the urge to thrust deep and hard, to bury himself to the hilt in the tight, clutching heat of your throat

He stares down at you, his eyes wild and fevered, taking in the obscene sight of your lips wrapped around his shaft, the way your throat bulges slightly with his girth. The image seared into his mind, a snapshot of pure, carnal bliss that he knows he'll never forget.

"That's it, baby. Take it all. Take every fucking inch of me," he growls, his voice strained with the effort of holding back, of not losing himself completely in the intensity of the moment.

But when Caleb feels your muscles contracting around his sensitive flesh, your throat working to swallow even as you suck him deeper, he can't hold back any longer. With a hoarse cry, he grips your hair tightly and yanks you off his cock, pulling you up and onto his lap in one swift, rough motion.

"Fuck, I can't...I need..." he pants, his eyes wild and desperate as he positions you to straddle his thick, muscular thighs.  "I need to be inside you. I need to feel your tight little cunt squeezing around me as I fuck you raw."

He grinds against you, his shaft sliding between your slippery lips, teasing your aching clit with each pass. His eyes bore into yours, blazing with a feverish intensity that makes your heart race and your core clench with need.

Caleb's eyes darken with lust as he hears your needy, desperate pleas spilling from your lips. A feral grin spreads across his face, revealing his teeth in a way that's almost predatory in its intensity.

"That's my good girl," he purrs, his voice a low, approving rumble. "So eager. So hungry for my cock. I love hearing you beg for it, love seeing you so desperate and wanton."

Without warning, he surges his hips forward, driving his thick shaft deep into your soaked, needy cunt with one powerful thrust.

"Fuck, baby," he snarls, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass hard enough to leave bruises. "You're so fucking tight every single time."

As Caleb feels your tight sheath clenching around him, gripping his plundering shaft like a silken fist, he knows you're getting close. He can feel the telltale flutters, the way your walls start to ripple and quake around his invading length. But he won't let you find your release, not yet. Not until you learn to control your emotions.

With a low, commanding growl, he unleashes his Evol, the gravity manipulation that's as much a part of him as the blood in his veins. You feel a sudden, inexorable force pressing down on you, pinning you in place against his lap, your hips locked against his. No matter how you try to rock or grind, to bounce on his cock and chase your rapidly approaching climax, you're held fast by the invisible, unyielding pressure.

"No, no, no," he chides, his voice a dark, wicked rasp. "Not yet, little one. You don't get to come until I say you can come. Your pleasure belongs to me, and I'll give it to you when I know you already learned your lesson".

He starts to thrust harder, deeper, grinding his hips against yours with a force that steals your breath and sends jolts of electric pleasure shooting up your spine. The head of his cock kisses your cervix with each plunge, the sensation pushing you to the brink of what you can take.

With each powerful thrust of his hips, each deep grind of his pelvis against yours, he uses his Evol to pin you in place, holding your writhing form immobile. You're forced to take every inch of his throbbing, steel-hard cock, over and over, as he pounds into your core with a relentless, punishing rhythm.

Feeling your desperate, anguished tears rolling down your flushed cheeks, tasting the salt of them as they drip onto your trembling lips, Caleb leans in, his tongue darting out to lap at the glistening trail. He groans at the heady, intoxicating flavor, a dark, wicked sound that vibrates through his chest.

"Mmm, delicious," he purrs, his voice a low, sinful rasp. "The taste of your pleasure, your frustration, your need...it's fucking intoxicating. I could get addicted to it, to you."

"Please..." you gasp against his lips, your voice hoarse and breaking. "Please, I need...I can't...please let me..."

"No," he growls, pulling back just enough to stare into your tear-glazed eyes. "No begging. Not yet. You don't come until I say you can come, until I give you permission to shatter on my cock."

The pressure of his Evol increases, holding you immobile, trapping you in this torturous limbo of pleasure and denial.

"Feel it, baby," he rasps, his lips curling into a wicked smirk against your skin. "Feel the way your body is mine, every inch of it. Feel the way your cunt squeezes and clenches, begging for permission to let go. But you won't. Not until I allow it."

"Count them," he demands, his voice a low, wicked rasp. "Count every thrust, every inch of your my cock stretching and claiming your greedy little cunt. Let me hear you, pipsqueak. If you count to 10 without missing a number I will let you cum"

And you start counting.

"One," you gasp, your voice high and tight as you struggle to focus through the haze of your impending climax.

"That's it, baby," Caleb purrs, his voice a low, approving rumble.

"Two," you choke out, your lungs burning with the effort of dragging in much-needed air. Tears of frustration and overwhelming sensation stream down your cheeks, but you're determined to earn your release.

"That's my good girl"

"Three," you pant, your voice growing weaker, more strained with each passing second. Your thighs tremble and quake.

"Keep counting"

"Four," you whimper, feeling your climax building, your core clenching and rippling around his thickness.

"Good"

"Five," you choke out, your nails raking down his back, leaving red lines of passion and desperation in their wake. 

"Fuck"

" Six," you gasp, your voice barely above a whisper, your lungs burning with the effort of drawing breath.

"Your pleasure belongs to me, your body belongs to me."

He leans in, capturing your lips in a brutal, dominating kiss. His tongue invades your mouth, conquering, possessing, swallowing your desperate cries of rapture. His hand tightens around your throat, squeezing just hard enough to make your head spin, your lungs scream for air.

" Seven," you choke out, your words garbled against his lips. Your nails claw at his chest, your body arching, writhing, trying to get closer, trying to escape. But there is no escape, only the relentless, punishing rhythm of his thrusts, the merciless pressure of his Evol pinning you in place.

"You got this pretty girl"

"Eight," you whimper, feeling your climax building to a crescendo, your core clenching and fluttering wildly around his thickness. You're so close, teetering on the very brink of oblivion, your every nerve ending screaming for release. 

"Almost done"

"Nine," you pant, your voice breaking, shattering. Your body is no longer your own, it belongs to him, to serve his pleasure, his twisted desires. You're his to command, his to control, his to claim.

"Cum for me baby" he says, his evol no longer keeping you in place.

"Ten," you cry out, your voice raw, ragged, barely recognizable. In that moment, as the word leaves your lips, Caleb hilts himself inside you, grinding his pelvis against yours, his shaft pulsing and throbbing as he finds his own release. Scalding ropes of his seed paint your insides, marking you, claiming you from the inside out.  Your body goes rigid, back arching, as your climax crashes over you with the force of a tidal wave. You scream your pleasure, a sound of pure, unadulterated rapture that echoes off the walls and bounces back to strike your own ears.

"Yes, fuck yes!" He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh, branding you, making you his. You can feel the dark, possessive satisfaction rolling off him in waves.

As the aftershocks of your shared climax slowly subside, Caleb lifts his head, his eyes blazing down into yours with a dark, almost feverish light. He looks at you like a man possessed, a man drunk on power and lust.

"When jealousy rears its ugly head again, when you feel that green-eyed monster threatening to consume you..." His voice drops to a low, warning growl. "...I want you to think of this moment. I want you to remember that you have nothing to be jealous about, that you are already more than enough for me."

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his words a dark, sinful whisper. "Count to ten, just like you did for me tonight. Count each beat of your heart, each breath in your lungs, and remind yourself that every one of them belongs to me. That every inch of you, inside and out, is mine to cherish, mine to protect, mine to love...forever and always."

Zayne🥼

You stepped into Zayne's office, closing the door behind you. His gaze landed on you, a warm smile spreading across his face as he took in your presence. He leaned back in his leather chair, silver-framed glasses perched on his nose, making him look even more handsome and intelligent.

"Y/n, this is a pleasant surprise," Zayne said, standing up to greet you. He walked over and pulled you into a tight embrace, his muscular arms enveloping you. You could feel the strength in his lean body, honed by years of dedication to his craft.

"How are you holding up after yesterday's mission?" Zayne asked, concern etched in his voice. He knew the dangers you faced and always made sure to check on you afterwards. His hands gently caressed your back, offering comfort and support.

"I'm doing alright," you reassured him, nuzzling into his chest. "I just wanted to see you before your big meeting. I know how important it is and I wanted to wish you luck." You looked up at him, your eyes shining with admiration and love.

He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, pouring his feelings into it.

Unable to resist the temptation, Zayne allowed his hand to slide down the side of your neck, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He squeezed your waist gently before pulling you flush against him, deepening the kiss with a low groan. You could feel his heart beating steadily against your chest, a comforting rhythm that always made you feel safe and cherished.

"Ahem, Doctor Zayne? Your meeting is about to start," a voice called out from the other side of the closed door, breaking the intimate moment.

He took a deep breath and nodded. "I'll be right there," he called out, his voice steady and professional despite the racing of his heart.

As you both stepped out of Zayne's office, the bustling atmosphere of the hospital enveloped you. Doctors, nurses, and staff hurried past, their footsteps echoing in the long, sterile corridors. Zayne walked beside you, his hand still clasped tightly in yours, a silent connection amidst the chaos.

Suddenly, Zayne's steps faltered, and he paused, his gaze fixed ahead. You felt him stop, and glancing up, you noticed his eyes narrow as he tried to recognize someone in the distance.

Zayne's eyes widened in recognition as the woman turned and began walking towards you both. His grip on your hand tightened reflexively, a mix of surprise and a hint of tension in his muscles.

You studied the woman as she approached, noticing the same look of shock and disbelief on her face, mirroring Zayne's expression. She was a striking figure, with long, dark hair and a confident, almost regal bearing. Her eyes, a piercing green, were locked onto Zayne, a gamut of emotions playing out across her elegant features.

"Zayne," she said, her voice carrying a slight tremble as she came to a stop a few feet away from you. "I can't believe it's really you." Her gaze flicked briefly to you, a flicker of curiosity and something else, something harder to define, flashing in her eyes before she turned her attention back to Zayne.

Zayne swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "Elena," he acknowledged softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a step forward, then paused, as if torn between closing the distance and maintaining the safety of the space between them.

The woman, Elena, took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the action. "It's been what, five years? Six?" She shook her head slightly, as if disbelieving the passage of time. "You look... good," she added, a faint blush staining her cheeks.

Zayne was silent for a moment, as if struggling to find the right words. "You too," he finally managed, his voice still low and slightly rough with emotion. "What brings you back to Linkon City after all this time?"

Elena's gaze drifted to you again, lingering for a moment before she spoke. "I'm here for a meeting. I didn't expect to run into you, of all people." She paused, then continued, "But perhaps... it's fate. A chance to catch up on old times."

"Are you here for the cardiovascular meeting too?" asked Zayne

"No, I'm not here for that meeting," Elena replied, shaking her head. "My research focuses more on the long-term effects of cosmic radiation on human biology." She paused, then added, "Though I suppose our work does intersect in some areas. The strain on the cardiovascular system from extended space travel, for instance."

Zayne nodded slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Ah, I see. That's... interesting." He seemed to be processing this new information.

"Elena, let me introduce you to y/n," Zayne said, his voice regaining some of its usual steadiness. "Y/n, this is Elenaa, an old... friend of mine. We knew each other back in med school."

You smiled and extended your hand in greeting, a friendly gesture. "Nice to meet you, Elena," you said warmly, despite the slight tension you could sense between them.

Elena's gaze lingered on you for a moment, a flicker of something akin to curiosity and perhaps a touch of wariness in her eyes. She took your hand, her grip firm and confident.

"The pleasure is mine," Elena replied, her smile polite but not quite reaching her eyes. Her tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of something more beneath the surface.

Elena turned to Zayne, a tentative smile playing on her lips. "Zayne, I was wondering... would you like to catch up properly later today? There's a charming dessert place nearby that I've been dying to try. After all these years, I remember you had quite the sweet tooth." Her eyes glinted with a mix of nostalgia and a hint of flirtation.

"Yes, I'd like that," Zayne replied, a note of resolve in his voice. "It's been a long time, and it would be good to catch up." He paused, then added, "Just let me finish up here and we'll meet you there around 8 pm?"

"Excellent, I'll make a reservation for us then. 8 pm it is." She glanced at you, her smile softening slightly. "And don't worry, I'll make sure to keep the medical jargon to a minimum," she teased gently, a hint of playfulness in her voice.

You jumped in, a slight wince at the mention of the upcoming dinner. "Actually, that's okay, Elena. I have some things I need to take care of around that time anyway," you said, hoping to sound casual and unassuming. "You two should go ahead and have a nice catch-up. I'm sure you have a lot to talk about after all these years."

Zayne looked at you, a mix of emotions flickering across his face. You could see a hint of something, a silent question perhaps. He seemed to be searching your face for something, a sign that you were truly okay with this arrangement.

Elena nodded, a satisfied smile on her face. "Wonderful, then it's a date," she said, her eyes lingering on Zayne for a moment before she turned to you. "I have to get going now" With that, she gave a small wave and walked away, her heels clicking on the tile floor.

"Doctor Zayne, the meeting is starting now. We need you in the conference room immediately."

Zayne closed his eyes briefly, a flicker of frustration crossing his face at the interruption. He opened them again to look at you, a look of apology in his expression.

"I'm sorry love, I have to go. But I'll see you back at my house later, alright? Wait for me there." He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

As the day wore on, you found it increasingly difficult to focus on your own tasks, your mind constantly drifting back to the encounter with Elena that morning. Questions and curiosities about her and her past with Zayne lingered, gnawing at the edges of your concentration.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the city, you found yourself sitting in your own apartment instead of waiting at Zayne's place as originally planned. The empty room seemed to echo with the questions and doubts that had been swirling in your mind all day.

You tried to distract yourself with mindless tasks, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the image of Zayne and Elena together, their shared history hanging heavily between them. The way she had looked at him, the history in their eyes... it was hard not to feel a pang of worry.

You stirred from your restless slumber on the couch as the sound of a firm knock on your apartment door echoed through the quiet space. For a moment, you were disoriented, unsure of where you were or what time it was. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains.

Blinking away the lingering drowsiness, you glanced at the clock on the wall. It was well past midnight. You sat up slowly, your muscles stiff and aching from the makeshift bed on the sofa. The knock sounded again, more insistent this time.

As you unlocked the door and pulled it open, you found yourself face to face with Zayne. He stood there, his tall frame slightly hunched in the doorway, his hair slightly disheveled from the breeze outside.

The sight of him hit you like a punch to the chest. Relief, joy, and a lingering thread of uncertainty all swirled within you. He looked exhausted, his tie loosened and his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the definition of his forearms visible. But his eyes, those striking hazel eyes, were filled with a warm affection as they met yours.

"Y/n," he said softly, a note of concern in his voice. "I'm sorry for the late hour. I tried calling, but you didn't answer." He paused, as if debating whether to say more. "Are you alright? I was worried when I noticed you weren't back at my place."

"I decided to come back to my place in case you wanted to take someone else back to your house tonight" the words came out of your mouth without thinking.

He took a step back, his eyes searching yours with a mix of surprise and hurt. "What are you talking about, y/n?" he asked softly, a note of bewilderment in his voice. "Why would you think I would do something like that?"

He was silent for a moment, his gaze never leaving yours. Then, his expression softened, a look of understanding dawning in his eyes. "Ah, love," he murmured, shaking his head slightly. "Is this about Elena? Did you think..." He paused, then sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Zayne looked at you intently, his hazel eyes filled with a mix of surprise and gentle understanding. He took your hands in his, giving them a reassuring squeeze as he spoke.

"Y/n, are you jealous of Elena?" he asked softly, his voice low and filled with a note of concern. "Is that why you didn't come back to my place tonight?"

He was silent for a moment, searching your face for the answer. Then, he sighed, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. "You don't need to be jealous, you know. There's nothing going on between Elena and me. We have history, yes, but that's all in the past."

"Elena and I dated for a few years during our time in med school," he explained, his voice taking on a slightly distant tone. "We were quite serious, or so I thought at the time. But as we graduated and pursued our careers, we realized that our paths were leading us in different directions"

You started to turn away, "What a coincidence, she is back now and maybe..." But before you could finish your sentence, Zayne pulled you back towards him, his strong arms wrapping around your waist. He tilted your chin up with his fingers, his intense hazel gaze locking with yours.

Then, he kissed you. It was a deep, passionate kiss, filled with a fierce intensity that stole your breath away. His lips moved demandingly against yours, a silent declaration of his desire and his love. One hand slid up to tangle in your hair, while the other pressed firmly against the small of your back, pulling you flush against his muscular frame.

Zayne kicked the front door shut with a firm thrust of his foot, the sound echoing through the apartment. Without breaking eye contact, he swept you up into his strong arms, carrying you effortlessly to the kitchen. He set you down on the counter, the cool granite a stark contrast to the heat radiating off his body.

Looming over you, Zayne placed his hands on either side of your hips, his fingers digging into the fabric of your clothes. His eyes, dark and intense, searched yours with an unreadable expression. "Why are you giving me that attitude, love?" he asked, his voice low and rough with barely restrained emotion. "You know you don't need to be jealous of Elena or anyone else. There's no one else for me but you." His grip tightened slightly, a silent emphasis on his words. "I thought I made that clear."

Zayne's voice dropped to a low, almost menacing tone as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Maybe I need to make it completely clear," he growled, his hands sliding up your sides, his fingers splaying across your ribcage. "Maybe I need to show you, in no uncertain terms, that you're the only one I want. The only one I crave."

He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before he trailed his mouth down the column of your throat. His hands continued their upward journey, pushing your shirt out of the way to expose more of your skin to his hungry gaze.

His fingers found the clasp of your bra, and with a deft flick, he unhooked it, allowing the garment to fall away. He leaned back just enough to drink in the sight of your newly exposed flesh, his eyes darkening with unchecked desire.

Zayne stood before you, his intense gaze raking over your partially exposed body. He reached out, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your shorts. With a swift, decisive tug, he yanked them down your legs, leaving you in nothing but your underwear.

He stepped back, drinking in the sight of you seated on the counter, clad in only your lace panties. His eyes lingered on your curves, the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the length of your bare thighs. He didn't touch you yet, maintaining a maddening distance even as the air between you crackled with tension.

Zayne loosened his tie with deft, practiced motions, the silk slipping through his fingers as he slid it from around his neck. He circled behind you, the heat of his body a brand against your bare skin. You felt the smooth, cool fabric brush against your wrist before he began to wrap it around, binding your hands behind your back with a tight, secure knot.

As he worked, his fingers lingered on your skin, tracing the delicate bones, the soft flesh. He leaned down, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below your ear. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice a dark, possessive rumble. "And I'm only yours. And I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

With your wrists secured, he circled back around to stand before you. He had shed his tie, his shirt now hanging open at the collar, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his muscular chest. His belt was next, the leather slipping through the loops until it hung loose around his hips.

Zayne's eyes flashed with a dangerous glint as he stood before you, his tall frame towering and imposing. He reached out, his fingers curling under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his intense gaze. "I won't hold you," he said, his voice a low, commanding growl. "You need to keep yourself straight, no matter what. We wouldn't want you to hit your pretty little head now, would we?"

Zayne disappeared into your bedroom, returning a moment later with a silk tie in a deep, rich shade of blue - one of the spare ties he kept at your place for emergencies. He stood before you once more, the tie dangling from his fingers as he took in your bound wrists and partially nude form.

Then, he lifted the tie, the cool silk brushing against your cheek as he slowly, teasingly dragged it across your skin. He brought it up to your eyes, his fingers grazing your lashes as he carefully, meticulously folded the fabric and placed it over your eyes.

You felt the tie wrap around the back of your head, the knot tightening with a soft tug. Darkness claimed your vision, your world narrowing to the sound of Zayne's breathing, the heat of his body, the scent of his cologne. Your heart raced in anticipation, your skin tingling with goosebumps.

As the blindfold blocked out the world, your other senses heightened tenfold. Each breath you took was ragged and shallow, your chest rising and falling with growing anticipation. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant sound of traffic outside and the steady, rhythmic sound of Zayne's footsteps as he circled you like a predator stalking its prey.

His fingers grazed your shoulder, a feather-light touch that sent a jolt of electricity down your spine. You couldn't see him, but you could feel his presence, feel the heat radiating off his body as he drew closer. The air grew thick with tension, with the promise of what was to come.

Suddenly, you felt his hands on your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh possessively. He yanked you to the edge of the counter, the cool granite a shocking contrast to the scorching heat of his body now pressed against yours. His breath was hot against your neck, his lips barely a hairsbreadth away from your skin. You could feel the rough stubble of his jaw, the firmness of his chest, the hard length of his arousal pressing insistently against your core.

Zayne's lips descended upon your bared breasts, his mouth hot and hungry against your sensitive skin. He kissed and nipped at the soft mounds, his teeth grazing the delicate flesh until he left a trail of marks in his wake. Each bite sent a jolt of sensation through you, pleasure and pain intertwined, stoking the fire building within your core.

He took his time, lavishing attention on every inch of your breasts save for the hardened peaks begging for his touch. His tongue swirled around the areola, teasing the edge before moving on, always keeping you on the precipice of where you needed him most. The anticipation was maddening, the emptiness between your thighs aching for his touch, his fill.

One hand slid down your stomach, his fingers splaying across your hipbone before dipping lower, skimming the waistband of your panties. Your breath hitched, anticipation coiling tighter in your core, your hips canting forward in a silent plea. But he denied you, his fingers merely tracing the lace edge, not dipping beneath to where you needed him most.

"Zayne..." you gasped, your voice a needy whimper. But he silenced you with a dark chuckle, the sound vibrating against your breast as he nipped at the tender underside.

Zayne paused his tormented ministrations, his lips trailing up from your breast to the column of your throat. He nipped at your racing pulse before murmuring hotly against your skin. "Lift your hips for me, baby. Lift them so I can remove these soaked panties that are no longer serving their purpose"

You lifted your hips, the movement causing your soaked panties to peel away from your slick, heated flesh, you couldn't help but gasp as it brushed against your aching clit. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine, your back arching off the counter as you struggled to maintain your composure.

Zayne didn't miss your reaction, a dark chuckle rumbling from his chest as he slowly, torturously peeled the panties down your legs. He took his time, his fingers grazing your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Once he had tugged the garment past your feet, he tossed them carelessly aside, his eyes never leaving your face as he drank in your expression of need and desperation.

"There," he murmured, his voice a low, approving growl. "Much better. Now I can see all of you, taste all of you." His fingers trailed up your inner thigh, his touch feather-light and teasing as he drew closer and closer to your dripping core. "Spread your legs for me. Let me see your pretty little pussy, swollen and ready for my touch."

You spread your legs, the cool granite of the counter a shocking contrast to the scorching heat radiating from your exposed, aching core. A breathy moan escaped your lips at the sensation, your body trembling with anticipation and need. The cool air hit your dripping folds, making you shudder and clench around the emptiness inside you.

Zayne's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of your glistening, swollen flesh, the proof of your desire coating your thighs. He leaned in closer, his breath hot and heavy against your sensitive skin. "Fuck," he growled, his voice rough with unchecked desire. "Look at you, spread out and dripping for me."

He paused, his fingers hovering just above your dripping entrance, not quite touching, not giving you the relief you craved. "Is this what you want, my love?" he asked, his tone a sinful purr. "Do you want me to plunge my fingers into your tight, wet heat? To stroke and tease and curl them just right until you're writhing and begging for more?" His thumb brushed over your clit, a feather-light touch that made you jerk and gasp. "Or do you want something else? Something harder, something thicker, something that will stretch you wide and fill you completely?"

Zayne's lips curled into a wicked smirk against your thigh as he murmured, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "Or maybe you want something softer, something that can lick you in all the right places until you're trembling and crying out in ecstasy. Something that can tease and taste and savor every drop of your sweet nectar until you're drowning in pleasure and begging for more."

Without warning, he leaned in, his tongue delving between your slick folds in one long, slow lick. He groaned at the first taste of you, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh and sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he feasted on your dripping sex, his tongue swirling and flicking and stroking in ways that made you see stars.

Zayne continued his relentless teasing, his tongue exploring every inch of your dripping sex except for the one place you needed it most. He licked along your slit, his tongue delving deep to taste your essence before dragging slowly up to your hood. He circled your entrance, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh as he denied you the direct contact you craved.

His hands slid up your stomach, palming the soft swells of your breasts, all the while, his tongue continued its maddening dance, licking and tasting and stroking everywhere but your throbbing clit.

"Zayne, please," you gasped, your hips bucking desperately against his face, seeking that elusive friction, that perfect touch. But he was merciless, his grip on your hips tightening as he held you in place, preventing you from chasing your pleasure.

He dipped his tongue inside your entrance, fucking you with the slick muscle, his nose pressing against your clit as he drove you closer to the edge. But just as quickly, he pulled back, leaving you empty and aching, your walls clenching around nothing.

"Zayne, please," you whimpered, tears of frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes behind the blindfold. "I need...I need..." But you couldn't even form the words, too lost in the haze of sensation and desire.

Zayne pulled back slightly, a dark chuckle rumbling through his chest as he took in your desperate, incoherent state. "Tsk tsk, You silly girl, can't even form a proper sentence?" he taunted, his voice a low, mocking murmur against your dripping sex.

Zayne paid no heed to the dampness spreading across the frames of his glasses, the evidence of your arousal smearing across the lenses. In fact, he seemed to revel in it, in the depravity of the act, in the knowledge that he had reduced you to such a state of desperate, aching need. He licked his lips, savoring the taste, before diving back in for more.

Zayne continued his relentless teasing, his tongue swirling around your aching clit, never quite touching it directly. Each flick and lick sent bolts of electricity shooting through your body, your back arching as you cried out in frustration. He could feel your thighs trembling, your hips bucking desperately against his face as you sought more friction, more pressure, more of anything to finally push you over the edge.

Zayne abruptly pulled his mouth away, leaving your dripping sex empty and aching. Before you could form any words, he gripped your hips tightly and in one swift, powerful thrust, he impaled you on his thick, hard cock.

You gasped and arched your back as you were suddenly filled and stretched wide around his impressive girth. He didn't give you any time to adjust, instead setting a relentless, pounding pace as he fucked into you with deep, powerful strokes.

Zayne unleashed his evol abilities just as you needed him to. Suddenly, you felt an intense, tingling coldness grip your nipple, his powers allowing him to pinch and roll the sensitive bud between his icy fingers. The contrast of the frigid temperature against your heated skin sent a shockwave of sensation straight to your core.

At the same time, he pressed his thumb firmly against your clit, rubbing the aching nub in tight, rapid circles. The combined stimulation of his cock pounding into you and his evol-enhanced touch on your most sensitive spots pushed you rapidly towards the brink of ecstasy.

Your climax hits you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with a force that stole your breath and your voice. You couldn't hold onto him, your wrists still bound tightly behind you, but your body convulsed and trembled beneath his as the intense pleasure consumed you. No words could describe the overwhelming sensation, no name could be screamed as your walls clamped down around his pistoning cock like a vice. All you could do was let out a primal scream of pure ecstasy that echoed in your ears as your orgasm ripped through every fiber of your being. Your eyes rolled back behind the blindfold, your toes curled, and your back arched almost painfully as you surrendered to the pure, unadulterated bliss of your release.

As you slowly floated down from the highest high of your life, you became vaguely aware of Zayne's movements. He had slowed his thrusts, his own release having passed unnoticed in the haze of your overwhelming orgasm. With gentle care, he carefully withdrew from your still fluttering depths, a mix of your combined releases trickling down your thighs.

Before you could open your eyes, you felt the soft brush of silk against your skin as Zayne tenderly removed the blindfold from your face. The sudden rush of light made you blink rapidly, your vision slowly coming back into focus. As your eyes adjusted, you found yourself staring into Zayne's intense, hazel gaze filled with a mix of satisfaction, affection, and a hint of the dark, primal desire that had driven him moments before.

Gently, almost reverently, Zayne leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your eyelids, his lips brushing away the tears of pleasure that had gathered there. His fingers trailed down to your wrists, carefully untying the silk ties that had bound them. He massaged the slight ache from your joints with a tender touch, his thumbs circling the delicate skin in soothing motions.

"I want this," he whispered, his voice low and filled with emotion. "I want us, together like this, for the rest of our lives. I want to wake up every morning next to your beautiful face and fall asleep every night with your body pressed against mine. I want to face whatever challenges come our way, hand in hand and heart to heart."

He paused, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek with a tender touch. "You're not just my lover, my partner in passion. You're my best friend, my confidante, my soulmate. And I promise to cherish you, to protect you, to stand by your side through every joy and every trial. I want this, y/n - I want you, forever and always."

[riqomi]

dinner ˖ 박종성

제이 ˖ 𝑓em!r .. g. fluff est. relationship ──── BOOKSHELF (1145) tw: suggestive kissing

the evening started just like any other, but when you walked into your apartment after a long day, you immediately noticed something different. the air was warm, comforting, and the soft glow of candles flickered throughout the room, casting a romantic ambiance. you raised your eyebrows in surprise as you looked around, trying to make sense of what was happening.

the smell of delicious food wafted from the kitchen, and before you could even process it, the sound of jay’s voice called out to you from the hallway.

“y/n, you're home!” jay’s voice was full of warmth and excitement.

you stepped inside, your heart immediately skipping a beat as you saw him standing in the middle of your living room, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a soft, bright smile on his face. he was dressed casually—an effortlessly stylish black shirt and jeans—looking absolutely perfect. the dim lighting, candles, and the sweet scent of food made everything feel so intimate and personal.

you blinked in surprise. “jay, what is all this?”

jay laughed softly, walking toward you and taking the wine from his hand. “it’s a little surprise for you.” he leaned in, placing a quick kiss on your cheek, sending a rush of warmth through your entire body. “you’ve been working so hard lately, and i just wanted to do something nice for you.”

you couldn’t help but smile, a sense of joy bubbling up inside you. “i don’t know what to say…”

“well, then,” he winked, “let’s start by getting you comfy.” he motioned to the couch, where a soft blanket was spread out on the floor, next to a beautifully set dinner. there was a spread of homemade pasta, garlic bread, a small salad, and a bottle of wine, with a single rose in the middle of the table.

"jay..." you were speechless. you’d never expected something like this. he had gone all out.

he grinned, obviously pleased with your reaction. “i wanted tonight to be perfect.”

before you could respond, jay took the wine and poured a glass for you, handing it over. his fingers brushed yours as you took it, and he smiled. “i thought we could start with dinner. after that, i’ve got a movie we can watch together. i know how much you love those cozy, lazy nights.”

you sat down next to him, still stunned by his thoughtfulness. “you really didn’t have to do all this,” you murmured, feeling your heart swell.

jay chuckled as he sat next to you, his hand brushing against yours. “i know, but i wanted to. you deserve it. you work so hard, and i just want to make you feel appreciated. now, let’s eat before it gets cold.” he winked playfully.

as you both ate, jay kept the conversation light and filled with laughter, telling silly stories from his day and making jokes to keep the mood fun. every so often, he’d reach over and feed you a bite of food, or pour you more wine with a flirtatious smile. the evening was effortless—just two people enjoying each other’s company, with no distractions, no rush.

but after the last bite of pasta, the tone shifted. jay stood up and stretched, his eyes twinkling as he walked toward the tv. “movie time!” he announced with a grin.

you raised an eyebrow. “what did you pick?”

“i thought we could watch something romantic," he teased, "but only if you're up for it."

you laughed and nodded. “sounds perfect.”

as jay started the movie, you scooted closer, resting your head on his shoulder as the opening credits rolled. he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you snugly into his side, the warmth of his body against yours creating a sense of comfort and safety. you could hear his heartbeat as you settled in, and for a moment, everything felt like it was in perfect harmony.

the movie played, but your attention was mostly on jay—how his fingers would absentmindedly trace circles on your arm, the way his lips curled into a smile whenever you giggled at the movie, and the way his eyes would occasionally catch yours, sparking with that familiar warmth.

as the movie progressed, jay’s fingers gently turned your face toward his, his gaze growing more intense. he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a soft kiss. it was tender at first, slow and sweet, as if he was savoring the moment.

you leaned into him, your hand reaching up to rest on his chest. his heartbeat was steady beneath your fingers, and you could feel your own heart matching its rhythm. the kiss deepened just slightly, his lips moving gently against yours, and your body naturally melted into him. the connection between you two was electric, and with every moment that passed, you could feel the heat between you growing.

jay pulled back for a second, his lips hovering over yours as he softly whispered, “you’re everything to me, y/n.”

the intensity in his voice made your heart flutter. you closed your eyes, pressing your lips back against his, this time with more urgency. his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. his other hand rested on your waist, and you felt him gently push you back against the couch, his body leaning over you.

the kiss grew more passionate, his lips claiming yours with more fervor. the warmth of his body against yours sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help but respond, your hands threading into his hair, pulling him closer. his touch was gentle yet hungry, his lips insistent and full of longing.

time seemed to slow as the two of you lost yourselves in the kiss. you could feel the heat building between you, the closeness, the desire for one another. everything outside of the two of you faded away.

finally, the kiss slowed, both of you pulling back to catch your breath, your foreheads resting together. you looked into his eyes, feeling the depth of the connection you shared, and whispered, “i love you so much.”

“i love you more than you’ll ever know,” jay replied, his voice thick with emotion.

you smiled, your hand caressing his cheek, tracing the outline of his jaw. “you’re perfect.”

“no,” he murmured softly, his thumb brushing your lips. “we’re perfect together.”

and as the night carried on, you both spent it tangled in each other’s arms, sharing small kisses, soft touches, and quiet laughter. jay had surprised you in the best way possible—not just with his thoughtful gestures, but with the quiet, intimate moments that made you feel like the most loved person in the world.

the movie continued to play in the background, but you didn’t need it. as long as you were with jay, the night was already perfect.

i want jay to spoil me.

[lila-lou]

✨Taking her in - Pt. 19✨

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

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Angst, HUGE Age Gap, Immoral, Language

Word Count: 7695

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

When he reached the kitchen, he saw you standing by the sink, your back to him. The hum of the faucet filled the room, but it was the soft sound of your quiet humming that drew him closer. You seemed lost in your own world.

Dean’s chest tightened at the sight of you. You were so at ease, so comfortable, even in his chaotic world. And while he knew he shouldn’t—knew he needed to calm down and keep his thoughts in check—he couldn’t stop himself from stepping closer.

You didn’t hear him at first, too focused on the task in front of you, until you felt his presence behind you. The warmth of his body was unmistakable, and you turned your head slightly, catching the faint scent of leather and musk that always clung to him.

“Dean”, you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips as you glanced back. “You need something?”.

He shook his head, his good hand coming to rest lightly on the counter beside you for balance. His broken arm stayed close to his chest, but even with one hand, he managed to close the space between you, his presence wrapping around you like a blanket.

“Just couldn’t sit still”, he muttered, his voice low, rough. “Thought I’d come check on you”.

Your smile widened slightly as you turned back to the sink. “I’m fine”, you replied, though your voice softened at his concern. “Just dealing with the usual… you know”.

Dean let out a quiet hum of acknowledgment, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he leaned closer, his chest brushing lightly against your back. The heat of him made you pause, your hands stilling as you opened the cap of the hot water bottle.

“You know”, he murmured, his voice low and gravelly in your ear, “you’re humming that little tune you do when you’re thinking too hard”.

Your cheeks warmed as you realized he’d caught you, and you bit your lip, glancing back at him. “I didn’t even notice”, you admitted, your voice quieter now.

Dean smirked, his green eyes flicking down to yours. “Yeah, well, I notice”, he said, his tone softer now, filled with something unspoken.

You turned your head slightly, catching sight of Dean in your peripheral vision. His presence was steady, grounding, as he stood close behind you, his broken arm cradled protectively against his chest. His green eyes met yours when you turned fully, and the intensity there made your heart skip a beat.

“Dean”, you said softly, your voice curious but warm. “What are you doing?”.

Dean’s gaze flicked down to your lips before meeting your eyes again, and for a moment, he hesitated. His jaw tightened slightly, as though he was debating something with himself, before he finally spoke, his voice low and rough. “Just… thinking about how much I wanna kiss those lips of yours”.

Your breath caught at his words, the air in the room seeming to grow heavier. His vulnerability, the rawness in his tone, made your heart race as you stared up at him, momentarily speechless.

“Dean”, you murmured, a faint blush creeping up your cheeks as the corners of your lips curved into a soft smile. “You can just… do it, you know”.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, though his eyes softened with something deeper. “Yeah?”, he asked, stepping just a little closer, his good hand brushing against your waist.

You nodded shyly, your cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink as you bit your lip, anticipation fluttering in your chest. Dean’s smirk softened into something more tender as he stepped closer, his good hand resting firmly on your waist. He leaned down slowly, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, almost hesitant kiss that sent a shiver down your spine.

The kiss deepened as Dean tilted his head, his lips parting slightly before his tongue brushed against yours, teasing, inviting. The sensation made your knees weaken, and you instinctively grabbed onto his shoulders for balance. Despite your effort, you couldn’t help but feel a little clumsy, your movements unsure and unpracticed when it came to the dance of tongues. But rather than deter him, your hesitance seemed to ignite something deeper in Dean.

A low groan escaped his throat, the sound reverberating through you as his grip on your waist tightened. His body pressed closer to yours, and you suddenly became very aware of the hard length of him pressing against your stomach. Your breath hitched, the realization sending a wave of heat through your entire body.

As Dean’s tongue teased yours, the intensity of the kiss grew, and you felt your body responding in ways you couldn’t control. A warmth spread through your core, pooling low in your belly as a soft ache built steadily. The realization of how wet you were becoming made your breath hitch, and you exhaled heavily into the kiss, your chest rising and falling as you struggled to keep up with the sensations flooding through you.

Dean noticed—of course he did. His groan deepened, vibrating against your lips as his good hand tightened on your waist. Every movement felt deliberate, every stroke of his tongue and press of his hips igniting a fire within you. You clung to him, instinctively letting him lead, just as you always did. With Dean, you trusted him completely, and the way he guided you in every moment left no room for doubt or fear.

He broke the kiss for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath. His green eyes were heavy-lidded and filled with a heat that made your pulse race.

Dean’s lips curved into that boyish grin that always had a way of disarming you, making your heart race and your knees weak. His forehead still pressed against yours, his green eyes danced with mischief as he murmured, “You sure you don’t wanna…? Heard it helps with those cramps”.

You blinked, your face flushing even deeper at his bold suggestion. “Dean”, you mumbled, but your voice wavered, unsure whether you were protesting or simply trying to process what he’d just said.

“I’m serious”, he added, his voice dropping lower, the grin never leaving his lips. “And c’mon, sweetheart—blood? You think I care? Hell, I drown in blood every weekend”. His tone was teasing but edged with sincerity, and the way his hand squeezed your waist made it impossible to look away.

Your mind spun, your cheeks burning as you tried to come up with a response.

Dean’s grin didn’t falter as his hand gently stroked your waist, his green eyes locked onto yours with a mix of playfulness and intensity. He leaned in just a fraction closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, his voice low and rough, “C’mon, sweetheart. What’s there to think about? You’re already squirming against me, and you know you’ll feel better after”.

Your breath hitched, and you bit your lip, unable to look at him directly. “I don’t know, Dean”, you whispered shyly, your voice barely audible. The vulnerability in your tone made your blush deepen, and you pressed your palms lightly against his chest, unsure if you were holding him closer or trying to push him away.

Dean’s good hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. His touch was firm but careful, the warmth of his hand sending shivers down your spine. “You trust me, don’t you?”, he murmured, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth. “I’ll take care of you, baby. Make you feel so damn good you’ll forget you ever doubted it”.

The way he said it, so full of confidence and heat, made your heart race. He tilted your chin up gently, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’re already dripping for me, aren’t you?”, he continued, his voice dipping lower, each word deliberate and teasing. “Let me take care of that, yeah? You’ll feel better—promise”.

His words sent a rush of heat through you, and you clenched your thighs instinctively, the ache between them growing harder to ignore. Dean’s smirk widened slightly as he noticed, his fingers brushing lightly over your lower back. His lips hovered near your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. His voice dropped even lower, barely more than a rumble, as he murmured, “Sweetheart, you’re already making those little noises for me, squirming in my arms like this. You really think you’re gonna say no?”.

His good hand pressed against the small of your back, holding you tighter, while his thumb brushed teasingly along your side. “You know how good I can make you feel”, he whispered, his tone darkening just enough to make your cheeks burn hotter. “Just imagine it. Me, buried inside you, moving slow and deep, making you forget every little ache you’ve got”.

Your breath hitched, and you let out a small whimper, unable to suppress the way your body reacted to his words.

“Yeah, that’s it”, he murmured, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “I bet you’re already so wet for me. Just thinking about how good it’ll feel”. He paused, his hand sliding slightly lower, his thumb brushing the waistband of your leggings.

You squirmed against him, your hands clutching at his shirt as you bit your lip, trying to keep yourself steady. His voice was intoxicating, each word making the ache between your legs more unbearable.

“C’mon, baby”, Dean murmured, his voice husky and full of heat. “Let me make you feel good". His tongue flicked against your earlobe, making you gasp softly. “Just say the word”.

His words and his touch were overwhelming, the heat in your body rising to a fever pitch as he continued.

Dean groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your skin as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His good hand gripped your waist firmly, his thumb brushing small, tantalizing circles over your skin. “Sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice strained and husky, “I’m so damn hard it hurts”.

The rawness in his tone made your breath hitch, your body instinctively pressing closer to his. He groaned again at the contact, his hips shifting slightly to emphasize the growing pressure against you. “I just wanna feel you”, he continued, his voice dropping lower, filled with unfiltered desire. “Feel myself sliding into you, nice and slow. Taking my time… making sure you feel every damn inch”.

Your cheeks burned as his words settled over you, a rush of heat coursing through your body. “I know what this does to you. I know how much you like it when I tell you what I want. And right now, all I want is you”.

You trembled in his arms, your hands clutching his shirt as if to steady yourself. Dean tilted his head slightly, his lips brushing down the side of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you squirm.

“Come on, baby". His lips brushed the sensitive spot just below your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’ll be so gentle, sweetheart. Just you and me, nice and slow”.

Your breath came in shallow gasps, your heart pounding in your chest as his words wrapped around you like a spell. He knew exactly what to say, exactly how to make you feel completely consumed by him.

“Okay”, you finally whispered, your voice barely audible as you clung to him, your body trembling with anticipation. The word slipped from your lips almost involuntarily, a soft admission of surrender that made Dean groan in response.

Dean hovered over you, his broad frame tense as he braced himself with his good arm, the muscles in his forearm flexing under the strain. His shirt clung to him, rumpled and slightly damp from the effort of maneuvering himself without aggravating his injuries. His green eyes burned with intensity as he looked down at you, his chest rising and falling heavily. The weight of the moment made the air between you thick, charged with anticipation.

He glanced down toward his sweatpants, then back at you, his lips curving into a crooked smirk. “You’re gonna have to help me out here, sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. “Can’t do it one-handed”.

Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and your heart raced as you nodded, your fingers trembling slightly as you reached for the waistband of his sweatpants. The intimacy of the moment felt overwhelming, but the way Dean’s eyes softened as he watched you steadied your nerves. Slowly, you tugged the fabric down, careful not to move too quickly or jostle him.

Dean let out a low groan as you freed him, the sound sending a wave of heat through your body. His eyes, full of raw desire, watched your every move, his breath catching as your fingers, trembling slightly, wrapped around him. The intimacy of the gesture, your hesitant yet determined touch, stirred something deep within him.

You met his gaze, your own eyes wide with a mix of nerves and anticipation. With a gentle but firm grip, you guided him towards your entrance, your breath hitching as you felt the tip press against you.

Dean’s good hand remained braced above you, keeping his weight steady, but it was his other hand—the one with the broken arm—that surprised you. Carefully, tenderly, it moved to rest over yours, the warmth of his skin grounding you as his fingers brushed against yours. Despite his injury, the gesture was firm yet comforting, his broken arm moving just enough to help guide you.

“Easy, baby”, he murmured, his voice a soothing balm, low and rough with need but steady and calm. His green eyes locked onto yours, grounding you in his gaze. “Just like that”.

Dean’s broken arm stayed cradled protectively against his chest, but his fingers found their way to your hip, resting there lightly as if to steady you. Slowly, he began to ease himself inside you, his movements deliberate and measured.

You let out a soft whimper as the sensation overwhelmed you, the stretch coupled with the dull ache of your cramps making your body tense. Dean immediately noticed, his green eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of concern and reassurance.

“Shh, sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he paused, his thumb brushing soft, calming circles against your hip. “It’ll get better, I promise. Just give it a second”.

You nodded, biting your lip as you focused on his words, letting the warmth of his touch and the steady tone of his voice wash over you. Dean pressed his forehead gently against yours, his breath fanning over your face as he murmured again, “Breathe, baby. Just relax”.

Following his lead, you took a slow, shaky breath, letting the tension in your body ease just enough for him to push forward again, inch by inch. Dean’s lips brushed lightly against your temple. “That’s it”, he rasped, his voice filled with a quiet reverence. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart”.

Dean groaned low in his throat as he pressed deeper inside you. His fingers flexing against your skin as if to remind you that despite his injuries, he was still in control.

His forehead rested against yours, his green eyes dark with a mix of raw desire and something deeper, something possessive. “You feel so damn good, sweetheart”, he rasped.

You whimpered softly, the sound escaping your lips as your body tensed. The sharp ache of your cramps flared with the stretch, making your breath hitch. “I know, sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice low and soothing despite the strain in his tone. “I can feel you tensing up. Just breathe for me, baby. I promise, it’ll get better”.

You whimpered again, your hands gripping his shoulders harder as your body trembled beneath him. Dean’s good hand moved slowly up your side, his thumb brushing tender circles against your skin in an effort to calm you. The contrast between his rough, calloused hand and his gentle touch sent a shiver through you, momentarily distracting you from the discomfort.

“You’re doing so good”, he rasped, his lips grazing your jawline as he pressed another inch deeper, his hips rolling with a deliberate slowness. “I know it’s intense, baby. But I’ll take care of you. Just trust me”.

The raw edge to his voice made your stomach flutter despite the pain, and you nodded shakily, your breath coming in short gasps as you tried to focus on the soothing rhythm of his movements. Dean groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest as he rocked into you again. “That’s it”, he murmured, his green eyes locking onto yours. “You’re so damn perfect".

The ache in your abdomen began to dull slightly, replaced by a spreading warmth that eased the tension in your body. Dean seemed to sense the change, his smirk returning as he moved a little deeper, his good hand gripping your hip firmly as he held you steady.

“See?”, he whispered, his lips brushing over yours as he spoke. “Told you it’d feel better”.

After a few thrusts, Dean´s muscles trembling slightly as he fought to keep himself steady. The strain was evident in the tightness of his jaw and the beads of sweat gathering at his temple. His broken arm remained cradled protectively against his chest, but the effort of holding himself up with only his good arm—and the pull on his injured chest—was taking its toll. Yet, even through the strain, his focus remained entirely on you.

You moaned softly, your body adjusting to him as the sharpness of your cramps began to dull more and more, replaced by a slow, building pleasure. Your hands moved instinctively to his shoulders, your fingers brushing over the tense muscles as if trying to steady him in return.

“Dean”, you whispered, your voice shaky as you looked up at him. “You don’t have to—”.

“Shh”, he interrupted, his voice rough but firm as his lips brushed over your forehead. “I’ve got you, baby. Don’t worry about me”.

But you couldn’t help it. The way his arm trembled slightly, the way his chest heaved with the effort—it was clear this wasn’t easy for him. And yet, he refused to stop, refused to let his injuries hold him back.

“Fuck, sweetheart”, he muttered, his voice strained but full of heat. “You feel so good. So damn tight. Worth every second of this”.

You whimpered softly at his words, your hands gripping his shoulders more firmly as your body arched into his. The pressure inside you built with each slow thrust, the mix of pleasure and the sight of Dean’s determination making your heart race.

“You’re… killing me here”, he murmured, his lips brushing against yours before moving to your neck, where he pressed a series of lazy, open-mouthed kisses. “But damn, I don’t wanna stop”.

The sight of him—his raw, unrelenting strength, his refusal to let his injuries dictate the moment—made your chest tighten with emotion. You reached up, your hands sliding to his jaw as you guided his face back to yours, capturing his lips in a soft, desperate kiss.

And with that, he shifted his hips again, drawing another quiet moan from your lips as he pushed deeper. Every movement was slow and deliberate, as much for his sake as yours, but the intensity of it was enough to make your entire body tremble.

The tension in the room reached its peak as Dean’s deliberate movements pushed you closer and closer to the edge. His low groans, the sound of his uneven breathing, and the overwhelming intimacy of the moment were enough to send you spiraling. Your body tensed beneath him, your nails digging into his shoulders as the wave of pleasure finally crested.

“Dean”, you whimpered, your voice breaking as the release washed over you, leaving you trembling and breathless. The sensation was all-consuming, your muscles clenching tightly around him as your body arched into his.

Dean groaned deeply at the sensation, his hips faltering as he thrust into you one last time, the intensity of your release pushing him over the edge. His breath hitched, and with a low, guttural moan, he followed you into bliss. His body trembled with the effort, the strain evident as he emptied himself inside you, his head falling to rest against your shoulder.

Completely spent, Dean collapsed gently onto you. His good arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer as his breathing came in short, ragged gasps. His broken arm remained cradled protectively between your bodies, though you could feel the faint tremor in his muscles from the effort he’d exerted.

For a few moments, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your mingled breaths. Dean’s face was buried in the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning over your skin as he tried to catch his breath.

“You okay?”, he rasped, his voice low and rough as he shifted slightly, mindful of his injuries. Despite the strain, there was a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he glanced up at you, his green eyes soft and full of affection.

You nodded, your fingers brushing gently through his sweat-dampened hair as you tried to steady your own breathing. “I’m… pretty fine”, you whispered, your voice trembling but sincere. “What about you? Are you okay?”.

Dean chuckled softly, though the sound was tinged with fatigue. “Better than okay”, he muttered, his lips pressing a lazy kiss to your collarbone. “Damn near perfect”.

After a few long, quiet moments, Dean’s breathing began to steady, his body finally relaxing against yours. With a soft grunt, he shifted slightly, planting a kiss on your shoulder before lifting his head to meet your gaze. The faint smirk tugging at his lips was matched by the warmth in his green eyes, though the exhaustion lingering there was unmistakable.

“Alright, sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice still rough as he slowly eased himself up. “Time to move before we’re stuck here all night”.

You bit your lip, your cheeks flushing as he gently pulled out of you, careful not to rush or cause any discomfort. The sensation made you wince slightly, and your instinct was to glance down, curious about the inevitable mess you’d made. But before you could, Dean’s hand reached out, his fingers lightly brushing your chin to tilt your face back up to meet his gaze.

“Nuh-uh”, he said softly, his smirk softening into a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about that. Let’s take a shower instead”.

You blinked up at him, caught off guard by the tenderness in his tone. “Dean, I should—”.

“Trust me”, he interrupted, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips, silencing your protest. “You’ve had enough to worry about the last few weeks. Let me take care of you”.

The conviction in his voice left no room for argument, and you nodded, your heart fluttering at the thoughtfulness behind his words. He grinned faintly at your agreement, his good arm wrapping around your waist as he carefully helped you sit up. Despite his obvious fatigue, Dean made sure to support you, his movements slow and deliberate as he guided you toward the edge of the bed.

“C’mon, sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice low and gentle as he helped you to your feet. “Let’s get cleaned up”.

About a week later, the bunker had settled back into its usual quiet rhythm, though the tension of Dean’s slow recovery still lingered in the air. Dean was sitting in the library, his good arm resting lazily on the back of his chair while Sam leaned over him, carefully inspecting the stitches along his chest. The wound, though healing, was still an angry red, and Sam’s brow furrowed in concentration as he examined it.

Dean, as usual, looked impatient, his jaw set as he sat shirtless, his muscles flexing slightly with every subtle movement. His broken arm was still secured in a sling, though it didn’t stop him from shifting uncomfortably under Sam’s scrutiny.

“Hold still”, Sam muttered, his tone a mix of exasperation and concern. “These stitches look good, but you keep moving around too much, and you’re going to rip them open again”.

Dean rolled his eyes, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “I’m fine, Sammy. You act like I’m on death’s door”.

Sam straightened, giving him a pointed look. “Because you were, Dean. You can’t keep acting like this is nothing”.

Dean’s smirk faltered slightly, but before Sam could press the point, your voice floated in from the doorway.

“Listen to him, Dean”, you said, stepping into the library with a cup of coffee in hand. Your gaze swept over the scene, and your heart did a little flip at the sight of Dean sitting there, topless and stubborn as ever. “He’s right, you know”.

Dean’s eyes flicked to you, and despite the irritation at being lectured, the corners of his mouth quirked into a softer, more genuine smile. “I’ve got two nurses now, huh?”, he teased, his voice low and warm.

“More like two babysitters”, you shot back, setting the coffee on the table and crossing your arms as you leaned against a chair. “You’re not exactly an easy patient”.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head as he packed up the first-aid kit. “She’s not wrong”, he said, giving Dean a final once-over before stepping back. “Just keep the sling on and try not to do anything stupid”.

Dean snorted, leaning back in his chair as Sam walked off. “That’s asking a lot, don’t you think?”, he called after him, his grin widening before turning his attention back to you. His green eyes sparkled with mischief as he gestured to his chest. “So, how do the stitches look? Think they add to my charm?”.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Only you would think scars make you more charming”.

Dean leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking onto yours with that familiar intensity. “You like ’em, though”, he said softly, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You huffed, trying to keep your composure. “What I like”, you said, stepping closer, “is seeing you actually healing. So maybe listen to Sam for once and don’t rip them open”.

Dean’s smirk softened into something warmer as he reached out with his good hand, his fingers brushing against yours. “Yeah, yeah”, he murmured, his voice teasing but affectionate. “I’ll behave… for now”.

It had taken weeks, but Dean was nearly back to his old self—stubborn, self-reliant, and unwilling to show any sign of weakness. On the outside, he seemed fine, even smug about how well he’d healed, but something had shifted. He wasn’t the same with you anymore, and it hurt.

The past few nights had been the hardest. Dean, who had once insisted on having you by his side every night, now seemed to avoid asking you to join him. He’d retreat to his room alone, leaving you to wonder what you’d done wrong. He hadn’t touched you, hadn’t even kissed you, and the absence of his warmth was like a hole in your chest that kept growing wider.

You’d tried to brush it off, telling yourself he was just readjusting, that he’d come around. But as the days dragged on, his distance felt more deliberate, and your patience was wearing thin.

This morning, you found him in the kitchen. The bunker was quiet, Sam still in bed and the world still dark outside. Dean stood at the counter, his back to you, nursing a mug of coffee. His broad shoulders were hunched slightly, his posture tense despite the casual scene. He didn’t turn when you entered, but you knew he’d heard you—Dean always noticed everything.

“Morning”, you said softly, hesitant as you moved closer. Your voice carried the weight of everything you hadn’t said in the past few days.

Dean glanced over his shoulder, his face unreadable, before turning back to his coffee. “Morning”, he muttered, his voice gruff and distant.

You frowned, the knot in your stomach tightening. “You’re up early”.

“Couldn’t sleep”, he replied, taking a sip from his mug. His tone was clipped, and he didn’t elaborate.

You hesitated for a moment, your nerves tangling in your chest as you debated what to do. Dean was pulling away, for whatever fucking reasons and you couldn’t stand it anymore. You needed to try—needed to bridge the gap between you. Taking a shaky breath, you bit your lip and stepped closer, your fingers brushing softly against his biceps. His warmth seeped into your skin as you leaned in, standing on your tiptoes to bring yourself closer.

“Maybe that’s because I’m not in your bed”, you murmured softly, trying to inject a bit of lightness into your voice, though the vulnerability behind your words was impossible to miss.

Dean barely flinched at first, his grip tightening slightly on his coffee mug. His jaw ticked, his eyes flicking down to where your hand rested against his arm, but he didn’t pull away. The tension in his body was palpable, and while he didn’t respond, the subtle shift in his posture—his muscles tightening beneath your touch, the faint hitch in his breath—told you he’d felt it. Felt you.

What he didn’t want you to know was that the second you pressed yourself so close, the heat of your body against his, the softness of your voice, it hit him like a truck. Desire flared through him, unbidden and overwhelming. He could feel himself hardening instantly, his body betraying every effort to keep himself in check. But he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay still, to keep the space between you—even though every part of him screamed to close it.

“Don’t”, he said finally, his voice rough, though it lacked the edge it might have carried before.

You leaned back, crossing your arms, your gaze steady and determined despite the nervous energy thrumming through you. “Don’t what?”, you asked, your voice soft but firm. “What’s going on, Dean? You’ve been pulling away for days, and I don’t understand why”.

His green eyes flicked to yours for a moment before darting away, his shoulders tense and his posture rigid. He didn’t want to answer, didn’t want to admit what was really going on. The truth sat heavy in his chest, threatening to spill over, but Dean Winchester wasn’t the kind of man who talked about his feelings—not easily, anyway.

You didn’t know it, but Dean was ashamed. He hated how the last few weeks had unfolded, how vulnerable and weak he’d been in front of you. Dean loved being the strong one, the one who protected you, guided you, and showed you everything. He loved knowing he was your first for so many things—your first kiss, your first love, your first everything. It gave him a sense of purpose, a role he understood and embraced.

But now? Now, you’d seen him at his lowest. You’d seen him unable to stand on his own, struggling with pain, relying on you for things he should’ve been able to do himself. Instead of being the unshakable force in your life, he’d become someone you had to care for, someone you had to worry about. And that wasn’t what you deserved—not in his eyes.

“Dean”, you pressed, your tone tinged with frustration as you stepped closer again. “Talk to me. Please. You’re shutting me out, and I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what’s wrong".

He let out a low, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”, he muttered, his voice thick with self-loathing. “You shouldn’t have to fix anything. Not for me”.

You frowned, your heart twisting at the bitterness in his tone. “What are you talking about?”.

Dean finally met your gaze, and the vulnerability in his eyes made your breath catch. “You’ve seen too much”, he admitted quietly, his voice raw. “I’m supposed to be the strong one. The guy who keeps you safe, who takes care of you. Not some… burden. Not someone you have to look after like a damn kid”.

The confession hit you like a punch to the gut. You hadn’t expected that. “Dean, you’re not a burden”, you said firmly, your voice trembling slightly. “I wanted to help you. I wanted to take care of you. That’s what people do when they love each other”.

He shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You shouldn’t have to”, he murmured. “You’re too young for this—for me. You should be out there, living your life, being carefree. Not stuck here, babysitting me”.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, the frustration bubbling to the surface as you crossed your arms tighter over your chest. “Dean”, you said, your voice laced with exasperation, “are we seriously doing this again? I thought we talked through all of that already”.

He looked away, his jaw tightening. “Yeah, well, maybe we didn’t talk enough”, he muttered, his voice low and gruff.

You took a step closer, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Dean, I don’t care about the age difference. I don’t care about any of the crap you keep throwing up as reasons why I shouldn’t be with you. None of it matters to me”.

“It should”, he snapped, his voice rising slightly before he caught himself and softened. “It should matter. You deserve better than this—better than me. I’m broken, and you’re… you’re young, and bright, and you shouldn’t be tied down to someone who—”.

“Stop”, you interrupted sharply, your voice steady even though your chest was tight. “Do you really think you get to decide what I deserve? What I want?”.

Dean faltered, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to respond. You took another step forward, closing the distance between you until you were standing toe-to-toe. “Because if you do”, you continued, your voice trembling slightly with emotion, “then you’re not the man I thought you were”.

That seemed to hit him like a slap. His eyes widened slightly, and he looked at you as though you’d just punched him in the gut. “That’s not—”, he started, his voice breaking. “That’s not what I’m saying”.

“Then what are you saying, Dean?”, you challenged, your tone softening but still firm. “Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like you’re trying to push me away for reasons that don’t make sense”.

Dean’s jaw clenched tightly, his eyes darting away as if he could find the words he needed somewhere in the empty air. You could see the war in his mind, the way his shoulders tensed and his chest rose and fell with restrained emotion. He was holding back, but you weren’t going to let him get away with it this time.

“Dean”, you pressed, your voice firm but trembling with the weight of everything you’d been holding in. “Talk to me. Please".

He hesitated for a long moment, his lips pressing into a thin line as he fought to keep his emotions in check. But the dam finally broke, and when he spoke, his voice was heavy with self-loathing. “I hate that you saw me like that”, he admitted, his words tumbling out in a rush. “I hate that you had to take care of me, that you saw me weak, useless. I hate that I needed you like that”.

Your heart twisted painfully at his words. “Dean—”.

“No”.

Dean’s voice cracked as he cut you off, his emotions threatening to spill over despite his best efforts to keep them buried. He raked a hand through his short hair, his frustration evident in the sharp exhale that escaped his lips. “You don’t get it”, he said, his voice rising slightly before it dropped again, quieter, darker. “You weren’t supposed to see me like that. Not you”.

You stayed silent, giving him the space to say what he needed, even though your heart ached at the anger he was directing inward. He took a shaky breath, his green eyes blazing with a mix of shame and vulnerability that he hated showing, especially to you.

“Do you have any idea how it felt?”, he continued, his words clipped, raw. “Lying there, useless, while you ran around taking care of me like… like I’m some damn invalid? I’m supposed to be the one looking after you. Protecting you. Hell, I’m twice your age, and all I’ve been doing is dragging you down, making you worry about me instead of letting you live your life”.

His words hit you like a freight train, and your chest tightened at the weight of his pain. “Dean, that’s not—”.

“I’m supposed to be a man”, he bit out, his tone tinged with bitterness. “Not someone you have to babysit. Not someone who can’t even pull his own damn weight. And every time I looked at you these past few weeks, all I could see was how much I’ve failed you. I’m not invincible anymore, and the last thing I want is for you to see that”.

You stepped closer, but he flinched slightly, his defenses still firmly in place. His gaze flicked to you briefly before he looked away again, ashamed to let you see just how deep this wound went. It wasn’t just his pride—it was his entire sense of self. Dean had spent his life building himself into this protector, this unshakable force of nature, and the idea of you seeing him weak, human, was unbearable.

You stepped closer, your heart aching at the raw pain in Dean’s words. The tension between you was thick, his vulnerability hanging in the air like a fragile thread threatening to snap. You couldn’t let him spiral further into his own self-loathing. Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers trembling slightly as you tried to cup his jaw, to pull his gaze back to yours.

But before you could make contact, Dean’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with more force than he probably intended. The grip was firm, almost desperate, and you froze at the sudden contact. His eyes snapped to yours, wide and filled with something that looked like regret, as if he immediately realized what he’d done.

“Don’t”, he said hoarsely, his voice low and rough, his grip loosening slightly but not letting go entirely. “Don’t look at me like that. Like you don’t care about what you saw. Like it doesn’t matter”.

You stared at him, your pulse quickening as his words sank in. “Dean”, you whispered, your voice trembling, “it doesn’t matter. It never did”.

His jaw clenched, his grip finally releasing your wrist as he stepped back, running a hand over his face. “You don’t get it”, he muttered, his frustration spilling over. “It should matter. I’ve spent my whole life being the guy who fixes things, who protects people. And now, what the hell am I? A liability? Someone you have to take care of?”.

His words cut deep, but not in the way he intended. You took a steadying breath, refusing to let him push you away. “You’re still that guy, Dean”, you said firmly, stepping closer again despite his retreat. “You’re still the one who protects me, who keeps me safe. But even you’re allowed to need help sometimes. That doesn’t make you less of a man”.

He let out a bitter laugh, his shoulders sagging as he turned his head away, unable to meet your gaze. “It sure as hell feels like it”.

You stood there, your heart pounding as the weight of Dean’s self-loathing filled the room. His words hung in the air, sharp and raw, and you knew this wasn’t just about his injuries or the past few weeks—it was about how he saw himself. Dean had built his entire identity around being the protector, the strong one, and now he felt like he’d lost that. The man you loved was crumbling under the pressure of his own insecurities, and you couldn’t let him drown in it.

You hesitated, your mind racing as you tried to figure out what to say, how to reach him. You knew him too well, knew that this wasn’t something a simple “you’re enough” would fix. He needed something more, something that would remind him he was still the same man—the man you loved, the man who made your knees weak and your heart race.

It took every ounce of courage you had to finally say the words that had been swirling in your mind. You stepped closer, your voice trembling as you whispered, “Fuck me”.

Dean froze, his eyes snapping to yours in shock. For a moment, it was like time stood still. His green eyes widened, his jaw tightening as your words sank in. “What?”, he rasped, his voice barely audible.

You swallowed hard, your cheeks burning, but you didn’t back down. “I said… fuck me”, you repeated, your voice steadier this time.

Dean stood frozen for a beat, your words hitting him like a freight train. His green eyes darkened, the vulnerability and doubt in them giving way to something deeper, something primal. His jaw worked as he tried to process the sudden shift in the air, but it was clear your words had struck a nerve—the kind that didn’t just tug at his heart but at every fiber of his being.

You took a shaky step closer, your hand brushing against his chest as you looked up at him, your cheeks burning but your voice steady. “Show me, Dean”, you murmured, your tone soft but laced with a quiet confidence. “Show me how much of a man you are. Because I’m sure no one—no one—can give me what you do”.

Dean’s breathing hitched, his nostrils flaring as the weight of your words sank in. You pressed your hand more firmly against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“No one else can make my knees shake the way you do”, you continued, your voice dipping lower as you held his gaze. “No one else can kiss me, touch me, make me moan like you do. No one else can make me come so hard I forget my own name”.

The shift in Dean’s expression was immediate, the self-loathing that had clouded his features melting away as the heat of your words took over. His jaw tightened, and his good hand shot out, gripping your waist and pulling you flush against him. The intensity of his touch made your breath hitch, and you could feel him—rock hard against you, the blood from his worrying head clearly having taken a detour south.

Dean’s grip on your waist tightened, his chest rising and falling heavily as he stared down at you. His green eyes burned with an intensity that made your knees weak, but there was something softer beneath the hunger—a flicker of hesitation, of restraint that you recognized all too well.

“Please”, you murmured, your voice trembling with a mix of vulnerability and anticipation. You looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes, the innocence in your expression juxtaposed with the boldness of your words. “Show me how good it can feel, Dean. When you’re not holding back”.

His jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring as his good hand slid from your waist to your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “Sweetheart”, he rasped, his voice rough, strained. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Yes, I do”, you whispered, leaning into his touch, your heart pounding in your chest. “I know you’ve been holding back, Dean. Ever since… since the first time. But I’m not that girl anymore. I’m not scared, and I trust you”.

Dean groaned low in his throat, his thumb freezing against your cheek as he stared at you, his resolve crumbling under the weight of your words. “You have no idea what you do to me”, he muttered, his voice darkening with the primal edge you’d only seen glimpses of before. “No idea how many nights I’ve laid awake, thinking about giving you everything, about making you scream my name until you can’t even think straight”.

You whimpered softly at his confession, your body trembling against his as the heat between you grew unbearable. “You sure you can handle it?”.

“Yes”, you whispered, barely able to get the word out as the intensity of his presence overwhelmed you. “Please, Dean”.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

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[777bae]

HIS JERSEY WILL SMITH

Summary :: Will wasn’t expecting to find you curled up in his jersey, but the sight stops him in his tracks. What starts as teasing shifts into something unspoken—a quiet claim, a piece of him that now belongs to you. (REQUESTED :: prompt 25)

Warnings :: none

Word count :: 2.5k

The apartment is quiet, save for the soft hum of the TV playing a rerun of some show you don’t particularly care about, the kind that’s easy to leave on as background noise. The comfort of the silence wraps around you like a warm blanket, the world outside your apartment fading with every lazy minute. You’re curled up on the couch, the soft cushions cradling you as you sink deeper into them. Your legs are tucked under a pile of blankets, the weight of it all settling perfectly against your skin. It’s the kind of night you don’t get too often—one where you can completely let go, allow yourself to just be.

The room feels like a sanctuary—warm, inviting, cocooned from whatever chaos may be happening elsewhere. The walls seem to hum with a quiet energy, and the dim lighting casts long shadows that dance lazily around the space, creating a sense of peace you didn’t realize you were craving until now. Your breath slows, your mind quiets, and the small comforts of home—blankets, the faint aroma of coffee still lingering in the air, the soft whir of the fridge in the other room—become everything you need in this moment.

It’s then you realize you’re wearing his jersey.

The realization doesn’t come as a shock, not exactly. You’d noticed the familiar fabric draped over the back of the chair earlier, and without thinking, you’d pulled it on, reveling in its softness and how easily it swallowed you. It’s too big on you—sagging loosely around your shoulders and flowing down over your thighs—but it’s comfortable in a way nothing else is. The fabric feels like it was made for this, made for you to wear in this space, in this moment of complete relaxation. And even though you hadn’t expected him home yet, it feels right, like a part of him has been woven into the fibers.

The faint scent of him clings to the fabric. It’s a blend of ice and cologne, sharp and fresh, with just a trace of sweat from the game still hanging in the air. It’s the scent of him when he’s just finished skating hard, his body still buzzing with the adrenaline, his presence still lingering even after he’s left the rink. You find yourself tugging the jersey closer, as if that scent could somehow ground you more, hold you tighter in the warmth of this moment.

You hadn’t expected him home so early, not with his usual routine after a game. The late-night practices, the media stuff, the need to unwind with the guys after everything winds down. You figured you’d have more time, more space to just sink into the couch, stay hidden under the blankets in your own little bubble. But then, the quiet rhythm of your world shatters.

The front door clicks open. You hear the jingle of keys and the familiar sound of a bag being dropped by the entrance. Your heart skips a beat—shifting from lazy contentment to sudden alertness. The door creaks as it pushes open, and you hear the soft shuffle of boots against the hardwood floor.

And then he steps inside.

Will.

You don’t need to see him fully to know it’s him—his presence fills the space before his face even appears, an easy confidence that always seems to follow him in whatever room he enters. The scent of him—colder now, but still unmistakable—seems to fill the doorway as he walks in, the cool air from outside trailing behind him. His hair is damp from the post-game shower, still dripping slightly, the dark strands sticking to his forehead in a way that only seems to make him look more effortlessly disheveled. He’s wearing a pair of worn jeans and a loose hoodie that looks comfortable, but it’s the way he carries himself that commands attention. His eyes scan the room for a moment, settling on you when he spots the jersey you’ve pulled on.

It’s like the world slows for a second, his gaze locking onto you. You can’t help but notice the way his posture shifts when he notices you—slightly straightening, that familiar grin tugging at his lips. He’s surprised, but there’s something else in his expression too. Something softer, quieter. Like he’s just found something he didn’t know he was looking for.

For a beat, neither of you says anything. The door shuts behind him with a soft click, and he stands there for a second, just watching you.

Then, he speaks.

“Well, well.” His voice is a little rough from the game, low and gravelly in the way it always gets when he’s just walked off the ice. “Didn’t think I’d be coming home to this.”

It’s playful, teasing, but there’s something in the way his eyes linger on you that makes your breath hitch. His gaze drifts over the jersey that hangs too loosely around your frame, like he’s taking in every detail of you, and it feels oddly intimate.

Your hands instinctively tug at the hem of the fabric, unsure if you should pull it tighter or let it hang. You were comfortable before, relaxed in the warmth of the jersey, but now, with him standing there, so close, it feels different.

You try to keep your voice steady. “You weren’t supposed to be home yet.”

He raises an eyebrow, and that signature smirk of his begins to stretch across his lips, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. There’s something about the way he watches you that makes the air around you feel heavier, like the space between you both is shrinking, becoming charged with unspoken understanding. “Clearly,” he says, his voice low and effortlessly confident. The way he lets the word hang in the air tells you he’s already figured it out, and for some reason, the realization makes you feel a little exposed—though you don’t quite mind it.

He drops his bag by the door with a soft thud, the sound breaking the silence, but he doesn’t rush. He takes his time, each step toward you deliberate, measured, like he’s savoring every second of this moment. There’s no hurry in his movements, no rush to break the distance. It’s that slow, easy swagger of his—one that always makes you feel like he’s got the world under control, like he knows exactly what he’s doing, where he’s going. And now, it feels like he’s walking directly into your space, right into your bubble of comfort that you’ve carefully crafted all evening.

He stops just short of you, so close now that the air between you seems to pulse. Your heart skips a beat, caught between the unexpectedness of his arrival and the quiet tension that’s suddenly settled into the room. His eyes—dark and warm—are locked on you, and in that moment, it’s like nothing else exists. He leans down over the back of the couch, his frame towering over you as his face inches closer. You can feel the heat of his body now, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the sharp, fresh smell of post-game sweat. It’s intoxicating in a way that makes your pulse race a little faster, your breath hitching in your chest.

He hovers there for a moment, his eyes scanning you, lingering on the way his jersey hangs on your frame. There’s a flicker of something playful in his gaze, but then it shifts—just for an instant—into something deeper. Something more intense. His lips curve into that familiar, teasing grin, but it’s softened now, edged with something unspoken. And then, as though the weight of it all hits him, he asks in a voice that’s a little quieter, a little more intimate than before:

“That mine?”

His words seem to hang in the air, his tone a little lower than usual, like he’s considering something more than just the obvious question. His eyes move over you, not in the usual way, but with a kind of focus that makes you feel both exposed and utterly seen. He’s not just looking at the jersey—he’s looking at you, taking in the way it fits on you, how you’ve made it your own, how it’s become a part of you in this moment.

You want to act casual, to brush off the weight of his gaze, but your heartbeat picks up, skipping erratically in your chest. You can’t quite keep your voice steady, but you try. “No,” you say with a light laugh, even though your throat feels dry. “I went out and got my own personalized Smith jersey.” The words feel almost ridiculous coming out of your mouth, because you both know that’s not the truth.

Will lets out a soft laugh, rich and warm, and the sound wraps around you like a comforting blanket, but it’s the way he says the next part that makes your stomach flip. “Looks good on you.”

His words settle between you both like a quiet confession, a whispered truth that wasn’t there a second ago. You weren’t prepared for the weight they carry, for the way they shift something in the air, in the way you feel. He says it with such ease, like it’s the most natural thing in the world—like it’s obvious, undeniable. The way he’s looking at you now, with that half-smile still playing at the corners of his lips, makes your breath catch in your throat. His eyes don’t leave you, they linger there, and suddenly, the room feels smaller, the space between you both much less comfortable than it was just moments ago.

Your skin tingles under his gaze, a heat rising to your cheeks that you can’t quite explain. You want to brush it off, to pretend like it doesn’t matter, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at you—so effortlessly and with such intensity—that makes you feel like you’re both standing on the edge of something.

You roll your eyes, trying to play it off, but even as you do, you know it’s half-hearted. His grin is contagious, that knowing, easy smile that makes your lips curve despite your attempts to resist it. The playful spark in his eyes pulls at you, and before you realize it, you’re tugging the jersey down a little further, trying to hide behind the fabric, but it doesn’t really work. Will isn’t looking away. He’s still watching you closely, his focus sharp, like he can see straight through the act.

He doesn’t say anything, though. Instead, he just shifts, his body moving closer, closer until his hand brushes against the back of the couch where you’re sitting. The light touch is enough to send a shiver down your spine, the air around you suddenly charged. He settles down beside you, that easy confidence never leaving him as he leans back against the cushions, his knee brushing against yours in the most casual way, but you feel it all the same.

“Hope you weren’t too comfy,” Will teases, his voice warm and playful as he stretches his arm across the back of the couch, the movement casual but somehow deliberate. His knee grazes yours just as he settles in beside you, the faintest touch that sends a jolt of warmth through your body. He’s making himself at home—his presence completely filling the space in a way that only he can. The familiar ease with which he claims the space beside you makes everything feel… different.

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes your lips, breathless and slightly nervous, but it feels good—genuine in its lightness. “I was fine until you showed up,” you admit, glancing up at him with a half-smile, feeling the quiet shift in the room, like the atmosphere has become just a little bit heavier.

Will shrugs, his movement effortless, the way he always does, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. But then his fingers reach for the blanket, pulling it more firmly around you both, his arm curling just a little closer to you. It’s subtle, almost instinctual, but there’s something in the way his hand brushes the fabric that feels different, like an unspoken promise. “Well, now you’re stuck with me,” he says, his voice light, but there’s a softness underneath the words, an undercurrent that makes you pause, your breath catching for just a second. The playful glint in his eyes is still there, but there’s something more behind it now. Something steady and quiet.

You shift slightly on the couch, trying to adjust your position, but the feeling of the jersey—his jersey—around you feels suddenly more charged, more intimate. You hadn’t noticed before how the fabric clings just a little more to your skin now, how the weight of it against your body seems to amplify every small shift, every breath you take. It feels like a piece of him, like something that’s meant to be close. But you’re not sure if it’s the jersey itself or the way he’s leaning into your space, closer now, his presence surrounding you completely.

His gaze doesn’t leave you, that same confident but knowing look in his eyes, like he’s made some quiet decision that this moment, this space, belongs to both of you. You can feel it without him needing to say it aloud—he’s not rushing, not forcing anything. There’s a calm, patient certainty to him as he watches you, and it makes something stir inside you.

Then, as if to seal the unspoken promise between you, he leans in just a little closer, his voice quieter, his words hanging in the air. “Keep it,” he says, and there’s no playfulness this time, no teasing edge—just pure sincerity. “It looks better on you anyway.”

His words hit you like a soft wave, unexpected and gentle, but somehow grounding. The way he says it—so matter-of-fact, like it’s an obvious truth—makes something inside you shift. You weren’t prepared for that. Not for the weight those words carry, not for the quiet implication that goes beyond the jersey itself, beyond what’s happening between you in this moment.

For a heartbeat, you blink, your breath catching in your throat as you process it. You’d expected him to joke, to keep up the playful banter, but instead, there’s a vulnerability in his eyes now—a softness that you hadn’t seen before. It’s not just about the jersey anymore. It’s about something more—something deeper between you, something unspoken, but heavy with meaning.

The words feel like a quiet confession, a little piece of something shared between you both, something that feels real in a way you weren’t prepared for. You didn’t know what you were expecting when you threw on the jersey, but you sure as hell didn’t expect it to feel like this. The fabric still hangs loosely on you, a little oversized, the edges of it crinkling around your thighs, but now it feels right. It feels like it belongs—like this moment belongs.

The world outside fades away, and in that quiet stillness between you, everything feels perfectly aligned. You don’t need to say anything more. There’s no need for words when the weight of the unspoken feels like it fills every inch of space between you, when the simplest act of wearing his jersey feels like a connection that goes deeper than anything you’ve shared before.

[fuck1ng-queen]

Less Complicated

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: none actually, enemies to lovers

Author comments: hey bestiessss! this is the first oneshot i'm posting to celebrate valentine's day with bad omens and i'm so excited to this week because i'll post one per day! i hope you all like it and see you tomorrow! 💕

The wind was blowing so hard you could hear it. You pressed your arms against your body, trying your best to close your coat around you. The leafless trees danced under the light of the streetlamps. A few small piles of snow piled up on the damp sidewalks, reflecting the brightness of the shop windows decorated with red hearts and shiny letters. The distant sound of laughter and conversations between couples walking by created a cozy backdrop, contrasting with your loneliness as you walked. Valentine's Day had never been a special day for you, it was just another one when the world around you was immersed in hearts and flowers. As you walked to the café on the corner, the one you always went to when you felt lonely, your thoughts were occupied with the upcoming exhibition you were organizing for the local gallery. It was the only thing that still kept you distracted from it all.

The sound of music in the distance caught your attention. You frowned in disapproval as you recognized the melody of the famous song by the band you avoided listening to so much. More specifically, the lead singer you'd rather forget: Noah.

Noah had always been a constant presence in your life, but not always for the best reasons. Ever since high school, your lives seemed intertwined by an inexplicable rivalry. He was the kind of person who always made a point of annoying you, as if he knew exactly where every single one of your vulnerabilities was. How could someone who hated you so much get to know you so well? And to make things worse, he did it with pleasure, always with a smile on his face that at the time you could die for, but you would never tell anyone that you found it attractive.

The music in the distance brought back memories. The fierce competitions to be the best student in the class, the discussions about who was the most creative in the projects, the challenging looks you exchanged every chance you got. Noah always found a way to unsettle you, with his unfunny jokes and constant teasing. He knew exactly how to make you angry.

“Do you really think you can beat me?” Noah scoffed after one of the many competitions you’ve entered.

“At least I make an effort, unlike you who only rely on your own cheap charm,” you retorted, with sparks in your eyes.

“Charm? I didn’t know you noticed,” he replied with that mischievous smile that only pissed you off even more.

Inside the café, the warmth and the scents welcomed you. You took off your coat and sat down by the window, opening your computer to revise a few things. You were so immersed in your work that you almost didn't notice when a man entered the café, shaking the snow out of his hair and heading for the counter. He looked different from what you remembered, maybe more mature, but still with that carefree air that irritated you so much. You blinked a few times until you believed it was none other than Noah.

“I can’t believe it.” His voice brought you back to reality.

You looked up, forcing a polite smile. “Noah.”

“You here? I swear I didn’t expect to see you.” He smiled, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“I’m working. What about you?”

“Show. We're in town. It looks like the band is still following you,” he joked, and you let out a sigh.

“Unfortunately, it seems so.” You turned your attention back to the screen, trying to put an end to the conversation.

But Noah wasn't the type of person to be ignored so easily. He ordered a coffee and sat down at your table, facing you. “Why are you always so serious? Isn't it Valentine's Day? You should be having fun.”

“And what about you? Where's your romantic day?” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

“I don't have one. My passion is music, remember?” He shrugged, taking a sip of coffee.

“Of course. How could I forget?” you replied, with a touch of sarcasm. “You play everywhere.”

“You always notice, then” he laughed, making you roll your eyes. “But what about you, still organizing those art exhibitions?” Noah asked, trying to strike up a conversation.

“Yes, that's my job,” you replied as dryly as you could, turning your eyes back to your laptop.

“You know, you really take all this seriously. Haven't you ever thought about relaxing a bit?” he teased.

You sighed and closed your laptop with an audible click. “Noah, why do you always feel the need to tease me?”

“Because it's fun to see you get angry,” he replied with a mischievous grin. “But maybe I also like to see you a little out of your comfort zone.”

“You don't change, do you? Always the same Noah, eager to be the center of attention,” you retorted, crossing your arms.

“And you, always so focused, so determined,” he said softly. “Maybe that's what I admire about you.”

You couldn't help but be surprised by the honesty in his voice. “Admire? You?”

“Yes. As much as we fight, I've always admired your passion for what you do. We're artists, we can't deny that we're passionate, and I admire that in you. Even if I don't say it often,” Noah admitted, looking directly into your eyes.

You felt disconcerted. You weren't used to this vulnerable version of Noah, let alone a compliment from him, or the way you felt, unable to arm yourself for a response. You looked away, trying to process what he had said.

“Well, thanks, I guess,” you mumbled, not knowing what to say.

Noah smiled, realizing that he had managed to disarm you. “Who knows, maybe we should try being friends for once?”

You arched an eyebrow, still skeptical. “Friends? I don't know if we're ready for that.”

“Maybe not now, but who knows in the future?” Noah replied, getting up to leave. “Anyway, it was good to see you. Good luck with the new exhibition.”

“Thank you, Noah. Good luck with your presentation,” you replied, watching as Noah left the café.

(...)

In the following days, you tried to concentrate on your work, but the conversation with Noah kept going through your head. He seemed different, more sincere, more vulnerable. It made you uneasy.

On the opening night of the exhibition, you were nervous. The lights in the gallery shone brightly, reflecting the meticulously selected paintings and sculptures. You ran your eyes over everything, as if there were still some detail or other that might have gone unnoticed, in an attempt to suppress your nervousness.

“It's perfect,” Noah's voice sounded next to you, soft and encouraging.

You turned to him, surprised to see him there. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to support you. We're artists, I know how lonely today can be for you. I thought you might need a friend tonight,” he said with a warm smile.

You felt a genuine wave of gratitude at that moment, making you smile back. “Thank you, Noah. It means a lot to me.”

“Can I ask you something?” Noah hesitated, as if choosing every word he was going to say.

“Of course,” you replied, curious.

“Why have you always hated me so much?” The question was direct, but there was a vulnerability in his voice that made you feel your stomach lurch.

You took a deep breath, staring at him. “It was never hate, Noah. I think it was... fear. Fear of how you made me feel. You were always so free, so confident, and I didn't know how to deal with it.”

“Fear?” Noah asked, surprised. “I never wanted to scare you. I always thought you hated me because well... I've always been a jerk to you.”

You laughed softly, despite your serious look. “And you were. But I was also a bit stubborn and proud. The two of us were always competing, always trying to prove I don't know what to I don't know who. Maybe we were actually trying to hide what we really felt.”

“And what did we really feel?” Noah asked in a soft tone, but full of curiosity.

You sighed, your gaze fixed on his eyes. “I think we were afraid of getting hurt. It was easier to fight than to admit that maybe there was something more. Something we didn't know how to deal with.”

“I won't deny it, I always felt there was something more,” Noah admitted. “But I didn't know how to tell you. Every time I tried, we ended up fighting. And then I thought, maybe it's better this way. Less complicated.”

“Less complicated, more painful,” you replied, your voice trembling slightly. “As time went by, I kept thinking about all the things I wish I'd told you, but never did. There was always a barrier between us, something we never knew how to cross.”

Noah took a step closer, gently holding your hand. You didn't remember, but that was probably the first time you touched each other, and it gave you goosebumps. “I always felt that there was something big between us. Maybe it's too late, but I think I'd still like to explore it with you.” 

You felt your heart soar at his words. “Noah, I feel it too. I think I want to stop running away.” 

He smiled, gently pulling you closer. “So, what do you say about starting now? My name is Noah and I sing in a band.” He smiled, holding out his hand to shake yours.

You giggled, feeling your face heat up. You smiled back, your eyes shining with the chance of a new hope, feeling that the truce between you could last forever.

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Masterlist | Valentine's Day One Shots

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[s0urw00lf]

I saw your post for requests and I was hoping you could write one of mine 🫠. Can you do something like an au where Dean did go to college briefly but left to continue hunting. But while he was in college he met reader and they start dating and when he left he told her he’s come back for her but he didn’t. Time skip to s3 after he sold his soul he comes back hoping to rekindle only to see how him breaking her heart changed her

Whether or not that get back together is up to you

Back into my life

Dean Winchester x Blackfem!reader

an: im so glad you asked this because its been the longest time since I’ve written for dean and i think its time to add him back to my roster. Also the person who requested this PM’ed me and asked for reader to be black.

Dean knew he was wrong. Dean knew sam knew he was wrong. But he couldn’t help himself, he had a year left and he wants to spend it with the woman he fell in love with all those years ago. If you’d let him. He knew you’d give him hell, but he was willing to take it if it meant he could at least see you again, hear your voice one last time.

“You sure you wanna do this man? I mean y/n is a hell of a force especially when she’s mad” Sam asked from the passenger seat. Dean didn’t answer, he stared at the entrance to the bar that a friend of yours had told him where to find you with a smirk on his face when dean mentioned who he was.

Without even answering he got out of the car, Sam followed quickly behind, hoping that this ended well but knowing your fiery nature and deans macho attitude, it wouldn’t.

When they entered the bar deans eyes immediately found you, you weren’t hard to spot, it was like his eyes just knew where to look. You were laughing with a group of friends in a pretty little dress that complimented your skin and your hair was out of the braids you used to keep them in during college.

Every part of you made his heart pound out of his chest.

Before he knew it he excused himself to the bathroom or really just left Sam standing. And thankfully so because not long after you found your eyes wandering as they did very often and your eyes landed on a familiar face, unmistakably Sam. Your heart plummeted to the ground, you knew that if Sam was here there was a really big chance dean was too.

You excused yourself from your friends and made your way over to the man who had grown even taller since you’d last seen him. You pushed your way through the sweaty crowd hoping to reach him before he disappeared in the crowded club.

You reached him just in time to see him start making his way to a table. “Sam!” You shouted over the loud music. The tall man turned around and his eyes widened as if the reason for being here wasn’t for his brother to seek you out, he just hadn’t been expecting you to see him before dean. “Y/n, its nice to see you” he said scratching the back of his head.

You gave him a look “is he here?” You asked, Sam looked as if he was debating lying but a look from you threw the thought right out of his head “he’s uh- in the bathroom” he stuttered.

You inhaled deeply pinching the bridge of your nose in irritation. After the week you had of course the only guy you’d ever fallen in love with and was so kind as to leave you in the dust, was back.

You looked back to Sam who stood awkwardly, awaiting whatever it was you had to say. “Why now do you two decide to pop up? You got hunt or something?” You questioned squinting your eyes.

“Uh no we-“ “I just wanted to see you again” your heart skipped a few beats at the sound of his voice, that love you had for him blossomed in your stomach as if you were taken back to all those years ago, but the rage also built and quickly overpowered any kind of love that was there.

You slowly turned around facing the green eyed man. He hadn’t looked a day older than the last time you saw him, though his hair was shorter and he was a little taller and muscular he was still Dean.

“Hey sweetheart” he said cautiously with an uncertain smile on his face. You couldn’t stop your hand from connecting to his face with a little too much force before leaving the bar entirely.

Dean was shocked by how hard you hit him, yes he was completely deserving of it it didn’t take away from the shock factor. He looked to Sam who was trying his hardest to hold back his laugh before following you.

You didn’t know what to do, you were driven to the bar by Chelsea and she was somewhere inside doing god knows what.

You couldn’t help the tears that formed in your eyes, you always thought that if he ever came back you’d stand tall and give him a piece of your mind and that slap was hardly scratching the surface of what you needed to say.

You felt like the world was spinning and the sound of him calling your name and his rushed footsteps coming toward you hadn’t been helping.

“Sweetheart please-“ “please what Dean?” You whipped around to face him. “What you want me to listen to whatever sob story you make up so I feel bad for you? Not gonna happen” you shook your head.

Any ounce of confidence he previously had was shattered. Standing here looking at your broken teary eyes he felt his throat closing up. “No that’s not why-“ “how could you do that to me Dean? I gave you my heart, my body and my soul and you took it with you when you left. All I had was one lousy message a promise that couldn’t have meant much to you to begin with. You said you’d come back for me. And I waited, and waited, and waited, for you Dean. For years.” You threw your head back, looking at the stars as you tried to keep from letting the tears in your eyes fall.

There was a long silence, you waited for anything from Dean but you were only met with silence. “One hell of an apology” you said, moving around him to go back to the bar. You had to get Chelsea and go or at least borrow her car, thankfully you weren’t too drunk to drive.

“I tried to stay” Dean shouted from behind you. Your steps faltered to an eventual pause. “I tried to call, hell I even tried to come back” he said. You turned around, his back was facing you and his head was down as if he was ashamed. “Why didn’t you?” You questioned, net even positive you wanted the answer.

“My dad. He came back, after a hunt and I’d got home late from hanging out with you. Even though Sammy could handle himself he was pissed” he paused “he questioned me ten ways to hell until I broke. Told him about you and how much I loved you, that you were good for me and accepted me and what I do.”

You had not even noticed when you started walking back towards him, it was like his body was pulling your body back to him where it belonged.

“I mean he was furious. Never seen him that mad in my life. He packed us up and left, broke my phone and the sim. After a while he told me you were better off without me. That all I’d bring you is death and destruction” the more Dean talked the more broken he sounded.

You grabbed his face moving it to face you. “Oh god… dean” you didn’t even know what to say to him. His eyes held so much pain it couldn’t be health for one person. “ ‘m sorry sweetheart, I should’ve came back, I shou-“ you cut him off pressing your lips firmly to his. You held his face with such softness you were scared he might disappear again.

Dean sighed into the kiss, bringing you closer by your hips, you body felt ignited again. The flame that blew out once he left was back, and you wouldn’t let anything take it away from you again.

You disconnected from the kiss “I’m sorry, I spent all these years resenting you and you suffered just as bad as me” you whispered, feeling like if you spoke any louder you might snap into a reality where this was just a dream.

“You’re mine again sweetheart. From now until the end” for him it wasn’t long. But you didn’t need to know that. Not yet at least.

[paranoiddreams]

👉👈 Just wanted to say I love your writing especially the mahito stuff and I hope u have a great day

tw. implied kidnapping!!!, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome

You’re such a little cutie patootie I decided to cook smth new up just for you☺️. Kinda new bc I’ve had this in the drafts for a while, but I decided to tweak some things and bam here it is. I hope you enjoy kinda nervous to post it lol!! 🩵

The sound of Mahito’s soft breathing is all you can hear in the dark, decrepit, room you’re in. It’s an anomaly, really, the rhythm of his breathing, the way his soft pink lips part to exhale. You know that he’s not human, he’s far from it, but still, somehow, he is sleeping like an angel. You wonder if you put your ear against his chest if you’ll hear a beating heart; you doubt it.

The cold chains around your ankle keeping you contained in this room with him is enough to tell you that you won’t. A sick monster capable of this couldn’t have a beating heart—no.

But then again, there was something so…alive about his beauty. You could feel it rushing through you every time his skin touched yours, which you initially blamed on some sick supernatural power he has over you; but now as you watch him sleep, you’re beginning to this that this fondness is one of your own.

A seed planted by him, yes, but only thrives the more you stay up at night like this, watching him sleep. The pale blue of his skin, the darker shade of his hair, and the heterochromia of his eyes, they’re all engraved in your mind.

So much so that you see him in your dreams. You feel his soft skin and hear his even softer voice. You hate it, waking up flushed and warm thinking of this monster; so you stay up all night.

But that only continues the cycle of watching him sleep peacefully, then contemplating whether he is a blessing or a curse.

[riseandfallofsecunit]

[Catastrophic Failure]

aka holding your past self in your arms

[link-lonk]

And I call this one "Blurry photo of the bear that woke me up at 2am by (extremely loudly) knocking over our trash can and then proceeded to eat trash in the middle of the driveway"

[matoitech]

i spent all my energy destroying my vocal cords and dancing tonight . now i’m just sitting here like this ^_^

[screampied]

✩ㅤ cw. fem! reader, unprotected, established relationship, vırgin nanami, cowgirl, praise, size kink, premature ejac, mdni.

virgin nanami loses it once you tell him to ditch the condom.

“sweetheart, i—” he’d swallow, choking up on his words once cool air settles against his skin. he swallows, chewing on his bottom lip once he feels a brand new feeling. the rubbery latex wasn’t blocking him anymore, and he groans once his swollen tip smears up against your entrance. soaked, he grows quiet once he looks down to see your dripping pussy hovering over his reddened frenulum that’s tearing up with glossed pre-cum. “god, ‘s warm,” the blond sucks in a single quickened breath as a curling pout twists against his lips. “a- are you sure?”

“ ‘m sure, baby,” you whisper up against the hot shell of his ear. he’s so warm, his entire body arouse with temperature all because of the sweet sound of your voice. the center of your palm rubs against his cheek and he leans into your touch. metaphoric heart eyes form in his eyes as they dilate, his own thumping heart beating out of his chest. “ ‘s okay, inside.”

“f- fuck,” nanami’s head gradually tosses itself back, and with quick alignment, he’s back inside. he kisses his teeth once he feels the real thing, your silvery walls massaging around him. the glossy sweat that pours onto his skin shines against his body glimmers brightly. he groans, letting off a soft whine once he feels the brief tightness grow snug. “you’re gonna make me—”

and within seconds, he’s cumming, hard. nanami barely even last a second after you take off the rubber, and he’s an entire mess. with a firm grasp, he’s reanimating your hips with his hands as you slowly jerk and move. “please,” he gently pierces his teeth into your neck, shivering breath ghosting against your skin. “don’t stop, s- show me how to feel good, please.”

his words were like a broken rough whisper — you pause, staring into his eyes and he’s sincere.

nanami’s heavily panting, beads of sweat racing down each sides of his forehead. fawn kind eyes bore into yours before he glances down at your sprawled out legs. “so pretty,” he hiccups, and even his touch was delicate. he was always gentle, he didn’t want to hurt you. a few thick padded fingers drag and scurry down your hips before his lip quivers. “i- i want you, i want more.”

“so have me then,” you coo against his ear, the tone of your voice more teasing than anything. as your hips start to salaciously rock into him again, you grab onto both of his wrists, trying to guide him. “there we go, ‘ken,” you whisper, and you can hear a bundle of wanton whimpers leave from his lips—never has he had a feeling like this, ever. he was so weak from your touch, your body heat, your taste. as your fingers tenderly brush against his, you make him cling onto your rickety waist. “hold me, like this.”

nanami groans, and he’s still sensitive, very. he just came, ribbons of balmy hot seed shoots deep into you and it’s warm. it makes both of his ears ring and he only wants more, more, more.

“okay,” he replies in a husky voice, and you can see blond shaggy strands of hair glue across his forehead. “o- okay,” he repeats, his tone dropping a bit lower. the bed mercilessly creaks as your rocking accelerates, his bulbous tip jabbing around every part of your cunt. once you show him how to touch you, he just can’t keep his hands off of you. “i dreamt about this for so long, sweetheart,” and he watches your pretty lips contort into an amused simper. “s- sorry, is that too dirty?”

“it’s fine baby,” you plant a kiss near the inside of his neck. a long breath gets caught in his throat. he’s about to say something else but he pauses, pouting deeply. cute, he’s embarrassed. nanami’s cock continues to rummage through your doughy insides, so much pressure that you feel it everywhere. your sappy folds squelch within each solid thrust before your arms wrap around his broad shoulders. “you dream about me?”

“sometimes, yeah,” he huffs, and the irregular unkempt thrusts slowly transform into pure blissful sync. nanami looks so pretty, he’s losing the more you bounce on his cock. so good, his jaw tightens and he’s feeling every vein in his body prod. you were starting to grow dumb as each second past and your moans only grew louder right with him. nanami’s head buries itself into your neck before he lefts off a frustrated whine. “it’s hard not to when you’re so pretty,” and his voice cracks at the end. you feel the tip of his tongue swirl around near your collarbone and you gasp. “god, you’re even prettier inside t- too.”

“yeah?” you whisper, creating a trail of sloppy kisses down the slip of his exposed neck. he’s moaning more at your touch. you feel his beefy thigh start to bounce before his palm squeezes against your bare ass. “you gonna cum for me again, kento? ‘s okay, be a good boy ‘n make a mess for me.”

a sheepish smile stretches against his lips, though instead of sheepish smile—it’s more of a pussy drunk one.

as you stare at him, his dimples poke against both sides of his cheeks and he’s getting lost into the way your hips twirl around him. “your good boy, mhm. all yours, ‘m gonna cum a- again,” and his voice lowers significantly. your clit’s profusely getting thwacked and mashed up against his fattened tip and it’s so appetizing. with nanami’s soft mousy eyes flicking backward until it’s nothing but pure white in his sockets, he gives your ass a soft spank. “k- keep riding me like that ‘n i’m gonna fall in love.”

and it’s right as he said that — he came again.

this time it’s a lot more. it’s thicker and languidly, you feel it spew out in velvety strips. his entire base was flaccid and he’s just idle inside of you. nanami’s whimpering underneath you as his legs finally collapse. you watch him fall back against the cushioned pillows and he’s so flustered. “mhh,” he grouses as multiple jittery pants leave from his lips. nanami wraps strong burly arms around you, holding you close. “stay,” he rasps, still hearing the sloshes of his dribbling cum trickle in and out of you. he’s shivering, his teeth shattering and he’s never felt more sensitive. he’s definitely in love.

“okay,” you nod, feeling him hide his head into the crook of your neck again. he’s so clingy—but you didn’t mind, and his warm breath tickles against your skin. you get a brief scent of his rich cologne scent that drives forevermore drove you weak. sitting up to press a chaste kiss against his twitching ruby lips, you whisper shakily. “good boy.”

and nanami’s eyes were so half lidded, your praises—he couldn’t get enough of them. seconds later and he’s still pouring into you deep, painting your gummy walls with his pristine-white color. with droopy eyes and flapping long lashes taking in your beauty, nanami whines. “more, don’t stop fucking me,” and you let off a gasp once he suddenly lifts you off his lap, lying you flat on your back. you land with a soft ‘oof’ before he spreads your legs, gazing at the satiny masses of cum that race down the crevices of your thighs.

“please,” and you moan once he drags his tongue up your legs, stopping towards your puffy clit. “teach me h- how to eat this,” and his eyes rove towards your slobbering cunt. you feel butterflies build up in your tummy before nanami’s quite literally drooling right before you. not only was he probably in love, he was also hungry.

“please mistress.”

[cathnospam]

Content Warning: College MHA AU, Oral (F! Receiving), Bakugo being Bakugo, Reassurance, SoftDom!Bakugo

You cried during sex and it freaked Bakugo out…

“B-bab—-y/n?!” The soft concerned look on his face in contrast on what he was just doing between your thighs was almost enough to make you break into a chuckle.

Not knowing what personal space is he cupped your chubby tear stained cheeks with his warm sweaty palm and rubbed the wetness away the best he could, “Why didn’t you use the safe word?!”

You blink, you could feel your high slowly wearing off if it wasn’t for his knee rubbing up against your clit. He didn’t even realize he was so close. “Huh?”

“Did I hurt you? Why —why didn’t—“

The tears just flowed naturally from your face, this was your first time with him and this new feeling of passion left you overwhelmed, his kissed, his curious touches, the groans and pants coming from you both as you rolled around in the messed up sheets of his bed.

His mouth was just as curious and intense as his hands, and in Bakugo fashion he gave it his all, looking up over the valley of your pretty breast to take notes of your reactions; to watch your face change when his tongue flicks in a new area, his lips practically made out with your lower ones which drew out a slurry “Katsuki~” and whine, which turned him on so much he kept doing so until he slid his thick muscle inside you, his ego inflated in ways he didn’t think could hearing you whine and moan for him, he grew confident, shaking his head back and fourth, in circles softly groaning while the slick mixture of his drool and your arousal. His forearm holding down your thighs to get a wider view of your his pretty pussy.

Who knew he was such a messy eater.

But he stopped, you started crying.

The blonde would first hurt himself before he ever hurts you, especially after giving him the chance to share such an intimate moment . He panicked.

“Katsuki, it’s okay.” You cut off his stammers, his voice was already cracking, you tend to forget how sensitive he really is under that hard exterior. You rose your back up on the headboard and pulled him down, his arms changing you in on the side of you, “I wasn’t in pain. It was the opposite.”

“How, dumbass you fucking—“

“Shut up.” You try to keep a deadpanned face, but the scent of your pussy on his breath made you subtly bite your lip, it was hot. “Well first off you were overstimulating me. Secondly, sometimes we can instinctively cry when something feels good or overwhelming, kinda like when you see people cry during weddings. They’re…happy tears.”

His face was pouted, small beads of sweats trickling down his forehead, and cheeks so warm and squishy you pinch ‘em to get a reaction out of him, “Tch….i knew that.”

“….I was really making you feel good?”

You smile, landing a slow kiss on his slightly thinner ones and tugging his fattier lower lip, you nod, “You made me feel really good. So good I cried. It’s a compliment.”

Bakugo ponded for a few seconds,finally relaxing his body to let you hold him for a moment, your heart beats laid in sync with each other, enjoying the quiet ambiance of his dorm , naked and comfortable.

“Do you still wanna keep going or wanna try again later?”

“Only…only if you want to—-I mean I do obviously, but I don’t wanna make it weird.”

“You couldn’t make it weird if you tried I wanna keep going….i was close.” You fake pouted at him, a crack of the smile came from Bakugo, he sighed in fake annoyance rising up,

“Then lay back,” He says as he pulls you by your thighs so you can lie flat on your back, “this time don’t cover your mouth when I eat you, okay? ….You sound hot.”

“We won’t hear the end of it in class tomorrow…”

“I don’t give a fuck.” His last words were muffed by his lips pressing against your sticky gooey pussy.

[kateschi]

midnight check-in

synopsis: in the middle of the night, you are woken up by a call from your husband.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

the phone buzzes on the nightstand, dragging you from the edge of sleep. squinting at the glowing screen, you see katsuki’s name flashing across it.

it’s late—past the time he should have been home, but not unusual given the unpredictability of hero work. swiping the call open, you press the phone to your ear, voice still heavy with sleep.

“did I wake you?”

his voice is rough, but familiar, crackling through the line like static.

there’s no apology in his tone, but you can hear the subtle hint of concern buried underneath, like he’s weighing whether he should’ve waited until morning to call.

“no,” you lie, sitting up and adjusting to the quiet darkness of the room. “it’s fine. what’s up? are you coming home soon?”

there’s a brief pause on the other end. you hear the faint shuffle of his gear, like he’s shifting in his seat, maybe still in the office or the agency car. “yeah, I’ll be home in a bit. just… wanted to check in.”

check in? katsuki doesn’t just check in. the man’s explosive, stubborn, and blunt to a fault—never the type to dance around what’s on his mind. so, when he calls you this late just to ‘check in,’ something feels off.

“everything okay?” you ask softly, leaning back against the headboard. your fingers toy with the edge of the blanket, tracing small patterns over the fabric.

“yeah, just a long-ass day,” he grumbles, his voice a little lower now. he’s tired, you can tell, but there’s something else lurking in the background of his words.

“didn’t mean to be out so late. I know I said I’d be back before—”

“katsuki,” you cut him off gently. “you don’t have to apologize for doing your job. I know how it is.”

he lets out a frustrated huff, and you can almost picture him running a hand through his hair, the way he does when he’s feeling restless.

“still,” he mutters. “I said I’d be there, and I’m not. doesn’t sit right with me.”

your heart softens at that. even though his words are gruff, katsuki has always had a way of showing he cares—usually in his own roundabout, katsuki-style way.

“you’re here now,” you say, your voice a little warmer. “that’s what matters. I’m just glad you called.”

another pause, this one heavier. there’s a slight crackle from his end, like he’s shifting again, probably leaning back in whatever chair he’s stuck in, the tension still clinging to him.

“yeah, well… I didn’t wanna wake up and find out you’re pissed I didn’t get home.” there’s a touch of humor in his voice, and you can practically hear the smirk on his lips. “figured I’d save myself the trouble.”

you chuckle softly, shaking your head. “you’re not getting out of trouble that easily, katsuki.”

“darn,” he clicks his tongue, but the familiar grumble in his tone makes you smile. it’s his way of saying he missed you, without actually saying it.

for a moment, there’s just comfortable silence between you.

the sound of his steady breathing on the other end of the line makes your chest ache a little—wanting him here, not just on the other side of a phone.

“you almost home?” you ask quietly, the warmth of the blankets doing little to fill the empty space beside you.

“yeah.” his voice softens, dropping just enough that you can tell he’s not as guarded anymore. “should be there in about ten.”

“good,” you murmur, stifling a yawn as you sink further into the bed, imagining him walking through the door any minute now. “I’ll wait for you.”

there’s a beat, a moment where his breathing catches ever so slightly, before he grumbles again, but softer this time. “you don’t have to stay up for me, y/n.”

“I want to.”

the silence that follows feels different—warmer, like he’s smiling, even if you can’t see it. and maybe it’s the exhaustion in your voice, or the way you said it so matter-of-factly, but something in him shifts.

you hear him let out a quiet breath, the kind he only ever lets out when he’s alone with you.

“...you’re such a damn idiot,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to it. just warmth.

you smile into the phone, eyes already half-closed. “takes one to know one.”

he snorts at that, a rare sound of amusement that you love catching him off-guard with. “whatever. just keep your ass in bed. I’ll be there soon.”

“mhm,” you hum, already feeling the drowsiness tugging at you again, but there’s something in the comfort of his voice that keeps you tethered.

you shift slightly, hugging the blanket closer, waiting for the familiar click of the front door. before you drift off entirely, you murmur, “love you, katsuki.”

there’s a pause, and for a moment, you think he’s hung up. but then, quietly, with all the weight of a promise, he replies.

“yeah. love you too.”

the call ends with a soft click, but even after, the warmth of his voice lingers in the quiet room. you smile to yourself, feeling the space beside you growing less empty by the minute.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[uglygirltrying]

wolf-hybrid!simon x bunny-hybrid!reader | PT3 | pt2 | pt1 |

apparently simon wasn't the only one who loved your scent.

other males had been trespassing on his territory, coming dangerously close to his den. to you.

simon tried to make his scent more pronounced. to keep them away. to keep his bunny safe.

fortunately, so far, no one had been brave enough, to deliberately come after you. and simon thought that nobody would be.

until that day.

simon had left for water that evening. he wouldn't have been gone for long. it was always risky to leave you alone, without his protection. but simon promised to be quick.

unfortunately, that was enough time for him.

you shouldn't have been so naïve. so stupid. you should've stayed vigilant. but you were just cleaning the den. you didn't feel threatened. you felt safe.

heavy thumps on top of the den. that's what you heard first. you looked up, a little bit of dirt fell down from the den ceiling, and dropped on your head. it must be simon. it has to be. right?

but then. there was slow struggling at the den's entrance. you couldn't see it, it was behind a curve. but you could hear it. simon didn't have to struggle to get inside. it was his den after all, it was just big enough, to let him inside.

maybe he was just struggling with the water. yeah. it's simon, you tried to reassure yourself.

"s-simon...?" your voice was meek, scared, unsure. you've stopped messing with the nest, now only focused on the noises coming from the den's entrance.

the obvious struggles at the entrance stopped.

why? simon would give you an answer, wouldn't he?

the weather was beautiful. there was only few clouds covering the blue sky. the sun glared down, hot and bright. it made the snowbanks sparkle beautifully.

the hot light made the snow melt away, uncovering calm, small rapid. the clear water ran over the rocks underneath it's surface. only more and more snow kept melting into the water, small droplets falling down from the melting ice, and snow.

simon knelt by the river. filling a carved, wooden bucket, with the cold, refreshing water.

he had to keep himself, and the bunny hydrated, after all.

the bucket filled pretty quickly, and simon was ready to head back to the den.

the snow crunched under his steps. simons hot breath came out as steam, as it hit the cold air. frost was starting to form on the tips of his hair.

the wolf's movements stilled, as smell hit his nose. a musk. another male.

simon dropped the water filled bucket, and began to run. you were alone. hopefully you were alone.

but he wasn't there to protect you. oh, god.

panic flared inside simon, his heart beating out of his chest.

the den was just a rocks throw away from the river. simon was quickly there. that didn't calm him down. somebody was kneeling at the den's entrance, trying to dig in. trying to get to his bunny.

simon panted heavily as he approached. the trespasser heard him coming. with a smirk on his face, the intruder turned around, to look at simon. simon's hands clenched into fists, his skin turning white.

he gritted his teeth. "mace." the wolfs voice resembled a growl.

here this bear was, trying to steal his bun. simon knew him, a territorial rival. and now he was attempting to take his fucking mate. his mate. his.

the black bear chuckled darkly, as he stood up.

"can smell her... you're hiding a sweet thing in there..."

"time for you to go, mace." simon grumbled.

mace grinned. "i'll leave you be, for now."

he walked down from the den's entrance, towards simon.

"might wanna keep her in there. never know when she's going to get snatched up."

mace's shoulder knocked against simon's, when he walked past him.

simon was fuming. his whole body moved, as he took heavy breaths.

the wolf listened, until the sound of footsteps faded away, before rushing to the mouth of the den.

"bun? come here." he called out, into the tunnel.

he had to wait a moment, before he saw your head sticking out of the hole.

simon sighed. "come here..." he signaled for you to come closer with his hand. slowly, and hesitantly, you crawled to the entrance of the den, where he was waiting for you.

"you okay, bun?" simon mumbled, his hand gently holding your cheek. after a meek nod of your head, simon leaned in and kissed your forehead.

simon leaned away, and gently guided you back down into the den, following suite after you. once you were down in the nest, simon made sure to hold you tight against his chest.

"you know that I would never let anything happen to you. you know that, don't you, bunny?" the wolf murmured into your ear, his free hand slowly making it's way down your stomach.

"what can i do to calm you down, huh? you're still shaking." his hot breath hitting your ear. simon was being sneaky. before you even knew it, his calloused fingers, pinched your nub.

he chuckled at the squeal you let out. his fingers began to gently massage your little clit.

"i'll never let that happen again. okay?" his voice got more serious, and his touch harder. your legs kicked out at the increasing pressure on your sensitive clit.

his touch didn't relent. it only got more determined.

determined to distract you from the scary situation, you had to go through.

determined to make you feel good.

the feeling was foreign. his touch was so tough, just like him. but his words were so sweet. the pressure in your belly grew. your breathing got heavier. simon noticed. with a wicked smirk on his face, his movements got faster.

"give it to me. c'mon bunny... i know you want to." he so meanly teased.

it just suddenly hit you. your legs tensed up, and your breath hitched. luckily, simon decided to show you mercy. he helped you get down from your bliss, before pulling his hand from in between your sweet thighs. your juices coated his fingers. simon grinned at the sight.

the bunny was now completely limp in his arms, panting and exhausted. simon wiped his dirty fingers against the fur on your stomach. simon's hand grabbed your chin, turning your head to look at him.

"go to sleep, bunny..." he murmured quietly, laying you against his side. his arms rested around you, in a protective hold. he couldn't even imagine how scary it must've been for you, being trapped down here, with no way out, while somebody was trying to crawl inside.

but just as he promised, simon would never let it happen again.

authors note: that poor bucket, alone in the cold forest :(

heart divider by @roseschoices

taglist (honestly i'm pretty lost who's on it and who isn't😭):

@famouscattale @nappingmoon @tame-the-lion-writes @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @distinguishedprincesstrash @yourfavreggie @rorowingaboat @limeleag @sushiumex @aldis-nuts (won't find it sorry) @the-palelady

COMMENT TO GET ON THIS TAGLIST 😠

[all4yoi]

𝒩ot a bet﹕hyung line

𝑒nhypen x fem!reader ⚹ cw: each member ranges from 5-1k wc, fluff, lowercase intended, they swear, crying, uh someone kneels, not proud w heejake's 😞, not proofread ( lmk if i missed something! )

sypnosis : upon learning that you were merely the stake in a bet, they wasted no time in mending your relationship.

part one !

★ LEE HEESEUNG ( 0.8k wc )

"y/n wait!"

heeseung's voice only made you walk faster. you didn't want to humiliate yourself further by stopping and talking to him. all you wanted to do now was to just march out of the school, go home, lock yourself in your room and maybe eat a tub of ice cream while you ugly cry yourself to sleep.

"y/n, please." heeseung pleaded, taking your elbow in his grasp as he spun you around and pulling you closer to the point you can feel his breath on fanning your nose.

he looked at you pleadingly. "it's okay," you managed to say in a shaky voice. "i understand, you can all laugh at me all you want now-" he shook his head, "it's okay really!" you added, pursing your lips.

"i just want to be left alone now okay?" and even if he knew you didn't mean just 'now.' he'll respect your wishes and let you go, but he won't give up.

heeseung watched you walk away from him with a heavy heart, wanting nothing but to just explain everything to you before it was too late. he couldn't lose you, not like this.

when he couldn't see your figure anymore, he messily messed his hair and made his way back to the gym eager to teach a guy how to not spit nonsense.

it's been a week since that happened and a week since he's seen you in the school. he asked some of your classmates and club members but all he received were nasty glares and short cold answers. what happened between the two of you spread like wild fire the following day you walked away from him. everyone knew you were kind of a nerd, but they also knew you were a complete angel and had a heart soft as a pillow.

they also knew that betting on a person's feeling isn't exactly it. — more under the cut!

so throughout that week too, his popularity decreased day by day. he used to receive heart eyes on the hallways and joyful 'good morning, heeseung!'s by random students, now all he received were judgemental glances and they avoided him like a plague, scared to be the next target of a cruel bet.

he didn't care though, all he cared about was your wellbeing. it's been a week and you've still yet to show up to class, so imagine his surprise when you suddenly walk in to the room with your usual hair do, your bag slung over on your shoulder and your glasses almost falling off your nose bridge.

he sat up straighter, gulping as his eyes followed your every move. he could feel hear heart beating louder, as if it was calling for you, desperate to be near you again.

he needed to fix this, asap.

it felt like forever before heeseung heard the bell ring. as soon as he heard the annoying sound, he messily packed up his things and ran after you.

"y/n!" your forearm was then again grabbed by him. although this time, he turned you slowly. heeseung silently admired your face. he missed you so much.

"let me explain, please. it's not what you think. i promise." he whispered, vulnerability in his tone. the simple nod you gave was his signal to interlace his fingers with yours as he looked for an empty room.

you ignored the looks everyone threw your way, either worried and judging. all you could focus on was his warm hand on yours and how you missed it so much, you didn't even realize you both were now inside an empty classroom.

"there was no bet." you furrowed your brows, looking at him with mixed confusion and frustration. "i promise, there was no bet."

"why would they say that then?"

"i don't know, but i promise there's no bet. throughout the months we've been together everything i've said was real." he said, desperate.

heeseung stepped closer.

"what i felt for you was real," he scrambled to get his phone from his pocket, opening his messages app. "you can go through my phone all you want, ask any of my friends-" you raised a brow.

"not those friends! i mean sunghoon, jay, jungwon.. you know." your raised brow made him sputter. "to be completely honest, they've been ignoring me after they heard about what happened.."

you looked at him hesitantly as you scrolled through his messages with shaking hands. you scrolled for so long, you even reached to the messages months before you both got together.

he didn't have any messages to his basketball team group chat unless it was announcements from his coach. the group chat with his actual friends were only filled with his pining over 'the girl on the back of his biology class.'

"heeseung.."

"there's no bet, baby. i'd never do that to anyone." he whispered, stepping closer. "i can't lose you like this.. i love you."

you sniffled as you came crashing on his chest, letting tears fall again. heeseung immediately wrapped his arms around you, sighing in relief as he finally have you back in his arms.

"i was so worried baby." he mumbled, kissing your head.

"i love you forever. i'll kill everyone who tries to get in between us again," heeseung pulled you closer if it was even possible.

"and if they do, i'll make sure to fix everything even if it means the whole world would hate me."

★ PARK JONGSEONG ( 1.0k wc )

jay was confused.

the both of you had a very well planned date tonight, so he was utterly puzzled to see that you weren't responding to his messages. for heaven's sake, you didn't even read his messages, he was just left in delivered.

he had tried calling multiple times but was only met with your automated voice telling him to leave a voice message. it came to the point that he had enough and decided to drive to your house.

throughout the drive, jay wondered what could've happened. he couldn't think of anything that would make you upset like this, he hoped that you just fell asleep and forgot to have your alarm on.

walking up the porch of your house, jay rang the doorbell and was met with your mom who opened the door with furrowed brows when she laid her eyes on him.

"good afternoon mrs. l/n, is y/n home?" your mother's frown deepened, hesitantly looking at the stairs behind her before looking back at him. "i'm sorry jay, she said she doesn't want to see you?"

that caused jay to furrow his brows as well. "wha- may i ask why?"

"i was hoping you'd tell me." if jay was confused a while ago, he was even more confused now and frustrated.

"can i see her, please?" he pleads, the older woman hesitantly opened the door wider to invite him in, and before he could ascend up the stairs, your mom stopped him.

"jay.." he looked back. "i don't know what happened to you both but take it easy on her, alright? she's been crying, i can tell." jay gulped and only nodded, sending your mom a pursed smile.

he knocked on your bedroom door, when no response came, he tried to turn the knob and was thankful that it wasn't locked.

jay slowly opened your door, seeing you curled on one corner of your bed as your body shook from your sobs you tried to keep silent.

he could feel his heart break at the sight. stepping a foot inside the room, he mentally cursed at himself when he accidentally bumped on to your mirror causing your head to shoot up in alarm at the sound.

your already glassy eyes was once again filled with tears as your eyes met his. jay barely dodged the pillow you threw at him, screaming at him to "go away and never show your face to me again."

jay frowned and came closer until he was sat on the edge of your bed, ignoring the words you just shouted at him.

"baby.. what's- what's wrong?" he asked, attempting to hold your hand but you retracted it and tried to throw another pillow at him. he swiftly caught it and brought it back down gently beside you.

"was it worth the one month of free car wash?" you spat through hiccups. jay stayed silent, confused.

"of course it probably was, that's what you do right?" the sight of your swollen and red face kept breaking his heart, he was still confused on what you were talking about but he'll let you talk.

this way he knew how he'd make things better.

"make me fall in love with you in exchange of a month's free of car wash.." you muttered, your eyes still boring on to his. at your words, it finally clicked. "..am i really worth just that much?" another sob.

right, he had forgotten to end the call when his 'friend' came barging into his apartment. you had probably heard all the nonsense the guy sputtered.. but surely you must've heard the way he defended your relationship and swore at that him too?

"i thought.. high school days were done jay. please just leave me alone now. you got what you want." jay shook his head, coming closer and pulling your body to his.

he wrapped his arms around you, his hand rubbing your back as you sobbed hard. he didn't try stopping you when he felt your weak punches that you threw at his chest, his own tears clouding his vision but he didn't dare make them fall.

"you got it all wrong, baby." he whispered, rubbing your nape as your face now rested against the crook of his neck. he ignored the wetness there. "i'm guessing you overheard the conversation with sungjae?"

you nodded, now calmer but not pulling away.

"did you also hear the way i told him to drop the stupid bet he kept insisting to happen? the way i kicked him out of my apartment?" you stayed silent, only sniffling as a response.

jay sighed, wrapping his arm around your waist tighter and pulling you closer.

"the whole campus knows sungjae's an asshole, baby. he was a jerk who thought that being a dick to others were entertaining, and i guess that's why i was like that back in high school.. i wanted to be accepted in their group."

"but we're in college now, i left that group but somehow sungjae's here and is pathetically still stuck in the past." he pulled your face from his neck, cupping your cheek and wiping away your tears.

"i've loved you since high school.. and there's no bet, baby. the moment he had found out i was dating you, he kept bringing up a bet about how long we would last.. but i always shut him out, told him to cut it out and that there will be no bet happening, especially if you're the one getting betted on."

new fresh tears come rolling down your cheek, this time they were tears of relief. glad to know that everything was real, that you weren't just a toy.

"you promise you'll cut him off starting now?" you whispered, looking at him with big glassy eyes.

"i've cut him since high school, y/n. it's him who's keep clinging to me. but i promise he won't be saying anything about the both of us anymore." jay pressed your foreheads together, pressing a soft peck on your lips.

"you will forever be the prettiest and the only one i'll ever love this much in this world, my baby."

★ SIM JAEYUN ( 0.5k wc )

jake watched you run away in confusion, staring at the laughing crowd and turning to look at your locker only to be met with the note he has been telling everyone to throw away.

he angrily took it from your locker, ripping the small paper into pieces. "how many times have i told you to cut this shit out? do you want me to report all of you for harassment and bullying?" he raised his voice at the crowd who had stopped their laughter.

"that's what i thought." he frowned, pushing past them and running after you.

jake knew what everyone was doing the moment it spread that he was dating you. he had received dms telling him he could do better and if he was merely toying with your feelings.

he had told them countless times to drop it, even going far as to almost punch the person who has created the bets if it wasn't for sunoo holding him back. he had hoped that it wouldn't reach you. it was another one of his reasons on why he always went to school earlier, just in case it was placed on your locker. unfortunately, you were earlier than him today.

it's not like he was tolerating it, he had tried countless times to report it but they'd only say it was probably only for fun and he shouldn't take jokes seriously.

but jokes were meant to be funny, right?

jake opened the door that lead to the rooftop slowly, peeking his head to look if you were there. to his luck, you were.

your back faced him while your bag was placed down carelessly beside your feet. jake approached slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you further.

"baby?" he mumbled loud enough for you to hear. you turned your head towards him, showing him your tear stained cheeks. "oh, y/n." he sighed and held your cheeks, wiping away the salty liquid off your precious face.

"jake.. why are you dating me, of all people?" you ask through tears, avoiding his eyes.

jake's eyes softened, he dated you because you were different from everyone who wanted to be like the everyone else, did that make sense? you were your own person, you didn't care about social status, wealth, his circle of friends, and whether someone was good looking or not. you were soft hearted, to the point that you had let others take advantage of that leading them to walking all over you.

and he hated that.

"why not you?" he said softly, tilting your chin up so that you could meet his eyes. "you're everything i've ever needed."

"you can tell the truth." you mutter, looking at jake. his mouth formed a pout, heart broken at the way you had so little love for yourself.

"i am telling the truth, baby." he whispers, taking your hands and placing them on his face before putting his own hands back on yours. "everything is a joke to them when i'm involved." you whisper, ignoring the way your voice broke.

"we don't care about what they think, they're all just jealous. everything we've been through and what i feel for you are real, no jokes." he smiled, pulling you closer to him.

"you promise?"

"baby i'd choose you over anyone in this world over and over again until the heavens above is tired of me."

★ PARK SUNGHOON (0.7k wc)

sunghoon frowned, confused and hurt. he wanted to fix whatever happened, so he took his phone from the couch and his car keys from the wooden bowl in his foyer.

it was when he was in the elevator that he noticed his phone was open. his breath hitched, finally knowing the reason for your departure and choice of words. sunghoon quickly left the group chat and started dialing your number.

it was true that you were a bet. were. he didn't even know why he agreed, maybe because he wanted so badly to fit in. he didn't want a repeat of middle school, so instead of being the bullied and made fun of, he was now the one doing those to others. he wasn't proud of it at the slightest.

that doesn't excuse his actions though. the longer he spent time with you, the deeper he fell. sunghoon never planned for you to find out this way, he already had a plan. first he had to get rid of his 'friends', tell you everything then ask you if you still wanted him to meet your parents.

guilt always ate him alive whenever you would stay over and sleep by his side. he couldn't bring himself to meet your family knowing he hasn't told you everything and the truth.

he felt like his heart would jump out of his chest as he stood infront of the door of your house. if he died tonight on the hands of either your father or older brother, he'd welcome death with open arms.

i deserve it.

he audibly gulped when the door opened, revealing.. you. the way your brows furrowed at the sight of him tightened his chest. he stopped you before you could even close the door on him.

"y/n please, let me explain everything.. o-okay?" the way his voice cracked and the unshed tears in his eyes almost made you give in, but upon remembering what you've read, the anger in you was back.

"explain what?" you spat, turning to look over your shoulder before back at him. "that all those months i've spent loving you," you pointed at him harshly. "was just for entertainment? tell me, what was in it for you, huh?"

sunghoon shook his head, the tears now flowing down his pale cheeks. "no, no! i promise, please i love you." he reached out but you stepped back, biting your lip as you held back the tears.

"just.. leave me alone sunghoon," he felt his heart crack even more. "you've had your fun, you can laugh about i all you want now." you were taken aback when he knelt infront of you, hugging your waist as he sobbed.

"what the-" sunghoon tightened his grip on you, muttering along the words of 'im sorry', 'never meant to be like this', and something along the lines of regretting something.

"sunghoon- oh my god." you groaned as you descended to face him. "please, i didn't mean to. i-" he hiccuped, "i'm sorry, i know it was stupid and there's no reason for me to accept the bet- but i just wanted to fit in. i wanted them to take me as a part of their circle- but, but i soon realized that it was stupid." he looked at you with swollen eyes, desperation swam in his dark irises.

"because i realized that hurting you isn't worth being a part of their asshole group. it started with a bet, i admit, but i truly love you, please believe me." a sob made its way out his throat as he clung into you, his arms circling your neck. "it wasn't a lie whenever i said i'd meet your parents, i was constantly trying to get rid of them first before i met your family, i didn't want to meet them until i've told you the complete truth."

your own tears descended down your cheeks, your heart hurting for yourself and sunghoon. you stayed on the floor wrapped around each other for a moment before you both helped each other up to your feet, he looked at you intensely with red bloodshot eyes. "i'm sorry, i understand if you don't want anything to do with me anymore."

"i understand hoon," you whispered, bringing your hands to cup his face. "but you have to understand too that i can't trust you fully right up again." he nodded, putting his own hands on yours as he kissed your palms.

"i know.. and i'll spent the rest of my life earning it again. i love you."

— ౨ৎ thank u for tuning in ! @j-jinxee @slp23 @unsurereader @heelovesmeknot @sunshine-skz @hoondrop @jooniesbears-blog @jordan1024 @heeswif3y @outroherrr @harufluff @cheeseball0 @yjwluver @woofie-nctzen-fanarts @itjengirl @emiliasstuffs-blog @isa942572 @lufcxx @alienqbrain @woniebae @baekxo07 @titttuaf @chuuswifereal @kyanmeai @isabellah29 @deezbin @skzenhalove @eneiyri @a4ruby @saxytalks @denleave1088 @imdelulu @powerpuffstuts @hoonatic @dollydigital @chososloverfr @dummyf @chanyeolchannie @oddracha @wonwushu @strawberrynull @ceciloveshee @loumin908 @cexg68 @grassbutneo @gardenwons @pag-yerin @bora04 @iluvnikism @jellymiki

— i couldn't tag those who's usernames aren't in bold :(

[devil-in-hiding]

On The Run Part 1

The Barn

mdni

cw: violent behavior, suggestive themes, i will get better at this i swear

It’s a downpour tonight. The roof overhead rattles with the force of the winds outside, keeping you awake. Your eyes drift towards the window periodically, watching the lightening illuminate the night sky, thunder rolling closer and closer as the wind hails. Your four loyal, massive Tibetan Mastiffs lay around your bed, dead to the storm raging outside. You’d normally have them out in the barn, but with how terrible it’s coming down you would have felt terrible.

But now you lie awake, worry in the pit of your stomach. Some of the goats had just given birth, and with this storm you knew the kids had to be distressed, and their bleats often agitated the horses.

You absentmindedly reach down to run a hand through Dixon’s fur, who lets out a pleased huff, nuzzling your palm. You try to let the beat of rain lure you to sleep, eyes finally feeling heavy as your breathing evens out.

But then you hear it, over the raging of the storm you can still hear your stallion, Sebastian, neighing, and then the pound of his hoofs against his stalls, and you're flying out of your bed.

Nothing spooks your stallion, absolutely nothing.

You race down the stairs in just your nightgown, rushing to pull on your boots, no socks, as Dixon, Grimes, Judy and Maggie come bounding after you. You throw open the door, the screen slamming against the house from the wind but you pay no mind, running towards the barn, barely catching yourself from slipping in the mud.

The closer you get, the louder you can hear all your herd. Your hearts pounding harder than the rain when you reach the barn doors, and you can hear the dogs barking behind you as you reach to yank open the double doors

Locked.

Your barn is never locked.

From the inside.

“Hello?!” You yell, slamming your palms against the wood, guilt wracking your body when you hear something scurry away on the other side.

“What are you doing in there?” You scream, shaking the handles with all your might, but they hold strong, and after a harsh yank, your hand slips, sending you flying into the mud.

You can hear what can only be described as chaos in the barn, and tears prick your eyes as you crawl forward, banging your fists against the doors.

“PLEASE! Please don’t hurt my animals! They’re already scared! Please- AH!” You scream as the door flies open, sending you face first into the barn floor.

You barely register the blood dripping from your hands as you scramble to stand up, taking in the scene.

The mares were going wild, bucking and kicking the doors of their stalls while Sebastian raged, having busted his door down, prancing infront of his ladies protectively.

Your goats were huddled in a group on the corner, the kids tucked between their bodies and the sheep standing in front of them, shaking so badly their wool was trembling. The rest of the stock is scattered, hiding in various corners of the barn.

You whistle, which immediately catches Sebastian’s attention, huffing and puffing.

“I’m here! It’s okay, ma is here!” You hush them, slowly walking towards the stallion with your hand out, palm up.

He neighs, tossing his head, leaning down to sniff your hand, when he stops, and suddenly a new sound reaches your ears.

Dixon and Grimes are growling out a warning.

Before you can even blink, there’s a hand over your mouth. Your gasp is muffled at the pressure of cold steel at your neck, an arm wrapping around your chest pulling you into a firm, solid figure.

“Not. A. Sound.” A gruff voice barks in your ear, and your blood runs cold.

“Lock the doors back.” The man orders, and a sinking feeling overcomes you when you hear a new set of footsteps. You stumble as you’re jerked back, Dixon barking as you start to thrash, kicking your feet, but the grip around you tightens.

“Fuckin- Knock it off!” He growls, pressing what you can only guess is your carving knife painfully against your throat and Grimes lets out a guttural sounding bark before lunging, only to yelp when a foot shoves him back, and you thrash harder, attempting to nip at this man’s hand.

“Stop you little fuckin-SHIT!” He bellows as your teeth sink into his palm, not releasing until you taste his blood splash over your teeth, and then you’re on the ground.

“Little bitch!”

“Don’t touch my fucking animals.” You spit, turning to stare up at the intruder, just to be met with a ski mask and cold eyes. You can’t help but freeze, the carving knife glinting in the low light of the barn.

He’s quick, and you try to stumble to your feet, but you're once more in his grasp. You go for a punch, but he catches your wrist easily, pinning your arm behind your back with one hand and yanking your forward with the other, pinning you against him, and the knife is at your throat again.

“Let’s try this again.” He says between clenched teeth, tightening his grip till you whimper.

“Ghost. Lighten up.” A voice pipes up, raspy and stern with a commanding tone. The masked man, Ghost, rolls his eyes, but loosens the hold he has on your wrist.

“Who else lives here?” He questions, and it feels as though a bucket of cold water has been dumped over you.

“No one…” You whisper, squeezing your eyes shut when his grip tightens once more. “Don’t bullshit us. Who else lives on this land with you?!” He’s in your face, making you open your eyes, tears blurring your vision.

“It’s just me I swear!” You sob, feeling the tip of the knife digging into your skin. “I swear to god it’s just me, you can go check the house-“

The pressure of the knife is gone, and the shock of your bare knees hitting the barn floors barely phases you as Dixon and Grimes dart to your side, whining softly as they nudge your hands with their heads.

“Think she’s telling the truth?” A new voice speaks up, a thick Scottish accent ringing in your ears as you try to put distance between you and the four, you are finally able to count, men standing in the middle of your barn.

“Explains the massive mutts.” Ghost grunts, glancing at the four mastiffs, who you push behind you, shielding them, trying not to let your fear show more than it already has.

“They aren’t mutts.” You hiss, Judy nuzzling her giant head into your back as you shuffle them back, away from these men.

You hold your head high, but your lip can’t help but tremble when all their eyes turn to you.

“You sure there’s no one else in that great big house?” The older man with scruffy facial hair asks with a tilt of his head, and a spark of agitation flares in your chest. Why did they want to know so badly? if they were going to…

If they were going to kill you, surely they would have done it by now, right?

“I swear on my life.” You plead, voice cracking. You’re horrified when you realize your nightgown has been soaked through this whole time, noticing the way the one with the mohawk, the Scot, keeps eyeing your bosom. You look away, cheeks burning as fresh tears prick your eyes.

“Soap, Gaz. You two go check the house. Report back to me, I want a moment with her.” The unnamed man ordered.

Mohawk and a dark skinned man nodded, heading out of the barn. Ghost passes one of them the carving knife, and your fist curl in your lap.

“What do I do Price?” Ghost asks, and the man, Price, waves a hand, eyes trained on you. “Search the surrounding area, look for anyone hiding on the property.”

“Understood.”

And then you were alone. The barn has settled, most of your animals having made their way to the farthest wall behind you. He approaches you slowly, cautiously eyeing Dixon who raises up, baring his teeth, but you click your tongue, and he steps back immediately, sitting at your side like a statue as the others guard the flock.

You feel a puff of air breath against your head, and you can’t help the wet laugh that bubbles out when you realize Sebastian is standing guard over you.

“Seems you’ve got yourself quite the protection.”

He muses, eyes bouncing between the animals.

“They were abandoned when I found this place.” You confess, a slight tremble to your voice as you watch Price crouch in front of you. He’s quiet for a moment, eyes flickering over your form and you wrap your arms around your middle.

“If my men are walking into a trap, whoever is there will be killed.” He says simply, tone almost bored and you feel your face pale.

“They’re not! This is my land! Mine!” You insist, frustrated tears falling freely as you flex your fingers, muscles tense.

“Tiny little bird like you, all by herself?” Ghost scoffs as he returns, and you feel your ears burn.

“What did you find?” Price asks him over his shoulders.

“Can hardly see shit in this rain but I found no one. There’s a truck around back but the engine seems shot.” He shrugs, eyes peering at you through that ski mask and you avert your gaze.

The doors open against, the other two rushing in, soaked to the bone.

“The house is clear sir. Only one room looks lived in, two guest rooms down the hall on the upper level and a small library on the ground level. Gaz found a shotgun by the front door.” The Scot, Soap, you gather, reports back to Price.

“I told you. It’s just me out here.” You mutter, and this time Ghost is crouching in front of you, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him.

“You hiding from something little bird?” He asks, cocking his head to the side

“You’re the ones breaking into my barn and scaring my animals!” You snap, trying to get out of his grip, but he only holds tighter.

“You’re a little fighter aren’t you?” You see his eyes crinkle, and you're shocked this man even knows how to smile under that mask.

He releases you, standing up and stepping back to stand with the other three men, who still loom over you. You feel like a lamb being sent to the slaughter house, and you bury one of your hands in Dixon’s thick fur to ground yourself.

“Please-“ You start, voice shaking, and you feel a tear slip down your cheek.

“I don’t have much, there’s maybe three thousand dollars in the safe in my closet. I’ll give you the code just…” Your voice trails off, a sob slipping past your lips and Dixon whines, low and sad as he places his giant head in your lap.

“Please don’t hurt us. D-don’t hurt my animals- I won’t even call the cops, it would take the nearest deputy three hours to even reach my house.” You beg, exhaustion and nerves taking over as your shoulders slump, trembling with your quiet sobs.

You see Price’s boots approach you, and he tilts your chin up, and you flinch when he brushes a tear away with his thumb.

“Stop all these tears pretty. We don’t want to hurt you or your little farm.” He coos down at you. Confusion swirls in your head, making you dizzy as another sob can’t help but slip out, Price cupping your cheeks, shushing you softly as he wipes your cheeks.

“I don’t understand…” You whisper, searching this strange, terrifying man’s face for any sign of deceit, but he just grins at you.

“You told us the truth. Very good.” It sounds almost like praise the way he whispers it to you, and you whimper, shame filling your stomach. You look away from him, taking a shuddering breath as you struggle to compose yourself.

“Let’s get you back inside hm? Can’t have you catching a cold.” He tsks, and before you can argue, you’re being lifted into his arms, tucked against his chest. You try to struggle, but the adrenaline has worn off, confusion left in its wake as these strange men usher the herd into their correct pens, Soap barley escaping one of the Roosters pecking at him in defiance, before pausing.

“I don’t think I want to mess with this guy.” Gaz mutters, the three of them staring at Sebastian, who stares back, as though daring them to try and corral him.

“He.. He’ll go back in his stall once it’s quiet… You scared them…” You mutter, tired as you give in, resting your head against the strong chest you’re pressed against, and you feel Price’s grip tighten.

“You’re freezing sweetheart, let’s get you out of these wet clothes.” He murmers, and your heart skips.

“I can do that myself.” You hiss, staring up at him with narrowed eyes, despite the fact you can feel your cheeks burning.

He just laughs.