#so yeah as i said. it is Doing Things to me

[jinxvex]

♱ dom, sub, or switch? ft. sevika, vi, jinx, caitlyn, mel, ellie, and abby. ♱

syp. headcanons on whether they would dom, sub, or switch + how they’d do it.

cw: nsfw content!!, degradation, praise, dirty talk, teasing, mocking, dumbification, cursing (obv), daddy/mommy kink, mentions of tying up/gagging, strap-on sex, fingering, cunnilingus, handcuffs, slapping, spanking, pet names (baby, babe, doll, hon, toots, darling, pretty girl, etc.), mentions of soft sex/morning sex, breeding kink, possessive behavior, punishments, hair-pulling, tribbing, mentions of gunplay/knifeplay, just rough and nasty shit!! (+ more...)

disclaimer: this is just my opinion! (and maybe self-indulgent)

sevika: a mean service dom!! (subs very rarely)

♱ she loves to tease/mock/make fun of you during sex! it’s all love though, she knows you enjoy it.

♱ ex. of her teasing/mocking you: "you sound like a fuckin' porn star when you moan like that..." + "fuck, doll. you're suckin' me in that needy pussy. don't need any lube when you're already dripping all over the fuckin' sheets you slut."

♱ dirty talks you as though you’re just a slut that she’s using for her pleasure but her actions are the complete opposite of that! she thoroughly enjoys making you feel good in the way you want to!

♱ brat tamer! sevika will bend that ass over TRUST.

♱ if you like praise, she’s in your ear like, “yeah, baby. you like that shit, huh? makin’ those pretty noises for me.” + “love touchin’ on this wet fuckin’ pussy.”

♱ if you like degradation, she goes crazy. teasing you and belittling you makes her cunt throb, “look at you. you like getting fucked like a whore? fuckin’ pathetic.” + “jus’ wanna get fucked dumb, don’t you? brain gets real empty when you’re full of dick.”

♱ i’ve said this before but she prefers giving over receiving and being the one to make you fall apart. although she won’t deny you giving her pleasure as well, she just doesn’t prefer it.

♱ sevika likes strapping! no, she LOVES strapping. it makes her feel masculine in all the best ways and anything that makes you feel good, she LOVES!

♱ has a thing for titles during sex! or just you saying her name! do with that information what you will...

♱ if she were to sub, she’d lowkey be embarrassed and quiet compared to her talkative nature when she doms (lol).

…

vi: a switch with a SLIGHT preference for domming.

(soft service dom + obedient service(y) sub)

♱ vi has some similarities in the way sevika doms but vi is definitely less mean and prefers to praise you and lowkey baby you (unless you want to be degraded!) she just wants you to feel good + will do anything to achieve that.

♱ she likes using the strap but prefers to use her hands and mouth to make you cum. she loves seeing you cream, gush, & squirt up close.

♱ she NEEDS to see how good she makes you feel and will even ask/beg you to tell her, “c’mon baby, tell daddy how good she’s making you feel? need to hear you, sweetheart.” + “lemme hear you, please.”

♱ + yes!! she likes being called daddy (idc!!) but in a submissive context as well as when she doms. she loves it when you’re mocking her while you fuck her like, “aww. am i making daddy feel good?” and she’s like “fuck yeah, babe. gonna make me fuckin' cum.”

♱ vi likes her wrists cuffed and mouth tied when she’s getting fucked into the mattress + she loves the strap being used on her!!

♱ she just wants to be good for you! praise her! tell her she’s doing good!

♱ vi enjoys letting you stuff her face in your cunt and she likes it when you use her for your pleasure + also enjoys when you pin her down so she has no choice but to let you give her the sloppiest, messiest head imaginable, “oh fuck!! s-shit fuuuuck. right t-there”

♱ tribbing/scissoring with her is like pure heaven! nobody’s even subbing or domming in those moments, just pure desire, need. the feeling of your cunt on hers, the filthy wet noises, and your face make her cum so fast.

♱ chronic lover-girl through and through!! she’s always telling you how much she loves you when she’s in it (or when you’re in it), “love you so much, so perfect f’me, baby.” + “love you! feels s-so good”

…

jinx: a switch with a preference for subbing.

(bratty sub + playful mean-ish dom)

♱ jinx is the type to be sassy/bratty during sex whether she's domming or subbing! she's definitely always pulling your hips/hands towards her so you can fuck her deeper and she's so mean about it, "ughhh, toots, deeper! moreee!! you're not fucking me hard enough!"

♱ she always has that needy 'fuck me' look on her face--eyebrows furrowed and eyes glossed over as she bites her lower lip and tries to seduce you into doing whatever she wants. it works too.

♱ she gets carried away with the dirty talk. i mean CARRIED AWAY, "d'ya like the way my pussy feels against yours, baby? how wet 'n creamy i am? 'm all riled up for you, hon." + "wanna fuck ya next, make you gush all over 'n mess shit up!"

♱ wants to be put in her place deep down...

♱ jinx also loves soft sex; the feeling of you gently pinning her legs in the air when you both wake up in the morning and making out with her cunt + she's a head pusher LOL! as kinky as she is, it's your softness and willingness to please her that makes her truly feel good.

♱ a feen for sloppy sex. she loves it all and she's not afraid to get her hands dirty if it means she gets to get off and have fun! she'll have your fingers all pruned up and your mouth dripping wet by the time she's done with you.

♱ she likes to be marked up and claimed + will also mark you up so everybody knows you're hers.

♱ gunplay/knifeplay enthusiast.

♱ jinx loves it when you tell her how perfect 'n pretty she is when she's subbing... when she's dimming, however... she's real mean!

♱ sits on your face and holds your head where her cunt is, "keep lickin', sweetness, don't stop until i cum! or else i'll have to hurt cha!"

...

caitlyn: a switch with no preference.

(soft-ish mommy dom + soft/obedient sub)

♱ caitlyn gives mommy dom because she definitely has specific rules for when you can touch yourself (if you're even allowed to) and she's big on manners and politeness. she wants you to be the best girl you can be and will reward you for doing so.

♱ she likes it when you call her mommy in and out of bed, only in private though.

♱ her definition of a 'reward' is plunging her long, thin fingers into your tight wet cunt as she rests her back against the headboard. your upper back is mirroring hers as it rests against her stomach and your lower back pressed plush up against her clothed pussy, "fuck, darling. you're such a little minx, being so good lately. you knew mommy would do this to you, didn't you?" + "good girl. you deserve this," she whispers into your ear as her fingers reach inside you, as deep as they can go.

♱ the type of dom to pick your clothes, shoes, and make-up out for you before special events; especially at fancy dinners and 'n rich piltover people shit. she wants everyone to see that you're hers; that she's got yet another thing for others to be jealous of.

♱ she hates to have to punish you! but she will! let's say you copped an attitude or got needy at one of those important fancy events... that soft mommy dom role that you know and love would come crashing down so fast. rather than comforting whispers of "good girl" near your ears, you hear "you've been such a bad girl. i've got to punish you now, love, i'm sorry." + "but, hey... it'll be over soon. maybe next time you'll think about being such a misbehaving little whore.”

♱ as punishment, she puts her strap on you and forces you to watch her ass jiggle and thighs shake as she bounces on the faux cock in reverse cowgirl. if you even think about touching her, you're in for it.

♱ queen of spanking your ass and rubbing a soothing hand over it when she's done, profusely apologizing for causing you pain. but she had to do it! or else you'd never learn.

♱ when she subs for you, she's so loud. not talkative, but loud. her moans echo through her private chambers as you pleasure her.

♱ your name is on repeat when she subs!! she's always saying it.

♱ she likes when you pull her ponytail and slap her ass when you hit it from the back, she's verbal then-- always urging you to "mmm, pull harder, yes!! like t-that..." + "s-shit, please make me cum, p-please."

...

mel: a controlling/power bottom sub.

♱ mel is the type of sub who has dom energy but channels that into being the most pleasure-seeking power bottom sub ever!! that doesn't mean she doesn't care about your pleasure, but she prefers receiving compared to giving when engaging in sex with you.

♱ she loves to grab at your ass when you're strapping her in missionary to force you to fuck into her deeper, harder, and faster, "more. give me more." + "are you going to fuck me? or slack off the entire time?"

♱ bratty asf!

♱ when you finally do put her in her place, she's speechless. you have her in doggy style, forcing her back into a painful arch as you manhandle her hips up and down on your strap--you unmoving as her warm walls slide smoothly along the thick ridges of the plastic dick. her eyes roll to the back of her head as her mouth forms a perfect O shape, "uh-uh-uhng fuck! mmph!" + "yes! yes! yes! f-fuck!"

♱ when you're eating her out, she's much like jinx, tangling her hands in your hair while grinding her messy cunt along your mouth.

♱ wants to be filled up. (chronic breeding kink)

♱ to add to that, mel ikes to roleplay as if she's forcing you to cum inside her, wrapping her legs around your waist, strong grip trapping you. her voice is dripping with desire, a need to be claimed--taken, "yes, my sweet. cum inside me. don't you fucking pull out."

♱ the times when she does touch you, she's looking deep into your eyes as she does so, needing to see the way she affects you.

♱ tribbing princess! she twerks her ass on your cunt like she's made for it, "yes, honey, i looove that... fucking cunt's so wet f'you, love."

♱ i have an inkling that mel likes being punished... she craves someone who will force her to take responsibility and accountability.

...

abby: a MEAN ass hard dom. just plain mean.

♱ abby is EVIL. like the meanest on this list. she FUCKS. HARD.

♱ she doesn't like subbing, i fear! she likes receiving but not subbing.

♱ if you thought sevika was mean, you've got another thing coming if you don't think abby is much worse. the way she taunts and borderline bullies you when she fucks you is criminal (criminally hot).

♱ ex. of "taunts and borderline bullies you": "take it. take this shit. why you runnin', huh? you were beggin' me to fuck this fuckin' cunt just a second ago, right, slut? so you'd better suck it up and just take it." + "yeeeahh, you nasty little whore. takin' daddy's dick sooo well, babe." + "mm, fuck!! you need this dick. you need this fuckin' shit."

♱ daddy is what she wants to be called. plain and simple. if you slip up and accidentally call her abby when she's in it, she's pressing herself deeper inside of you, thrusting in you painfully, "what did you say, bitch? what did you fuckin' say?!" + "not my name, baby. 's daddy to you. daddy's the one who makes this pussy gush."

♱ will fuck you in front of a mirror and force you to keep eye contact with her regardless of whether it's her cock or her fingers drilling your hole.

♱ eye contact is important for her, she's slapping you across the face if you divert your eyes away from her own after she specifically ordered you not to, "the fuck?! told you to look at me, princess. look at me when i'm fucking you, kay?"

♱ slaps you! chokes you! gags you! ties you up!

♱ her tough facade slightly cracks when she gets lost in the way you're rolling your hips in a circle, clit rubbing against hers, "s-shit's gonna make me nut, baby." + "fuuuck! that pussy's perfect, babe."

♱ yes, she says "nut" when talking about cumming unironically. sue me.

♱ the thought of breeding you, getting you pregnant has her FERAL. the first time she heard you mutter a quiet "cum in me, daddy." had her hips stuttering for a second, eyes flashing with feelings of an almost primal instinct. the only thought that was running through her mind at that moment was ‘breed. breed. breed’, "f-fuckin' hell, angel. do you want daddy to cum in you? put a baby inside you?" + "wanna get you fuckin' pregnant. gonna fuck you until my cum is spilling out."

♱ CEO of daddy kink and rough, nasty sex.

...

ellie: a switch with an unknown(?) preference.

(playful/chill dom + shy sub)

♱ ellie is a bit more laid back/chill when it comes to domming! she's not super big on punishments and rules and all that jazz (unless you asked her to be) and she enjoys you willingly submitting to her without having to do too much.

♱ an enjoyer of fun, and sometimes silly sex.

♱ she loves to talk to you and embarrass you a little bit! if you're noisy or audibly wet, you're not hearing the end of it from her, "daaamn, babe. you hear that? you hear that, huh? 's me making that pussy wet." + "you're so loud, baby, you like puttin' on a show, yeah?"

♱ (s)trap queen! she enjoys using it and having it used on her!

♱ she won't degrade you as much but she occasionally mixes it in with her usual praise, "fuck, pretty girl. you really are a slut but... just for me though, hmm?" + "you look so beautiful all exposed for me."

♱ ellie can get possessive when she's in it. she's always using "me" and "mine" to verbalize her claim on you.

♱ the best at fingering on this list...

♱ her favorite way to be dominated by you is when you flip her over and fuck her from the back. it's such a pretty sight; her bent over with her back arched fucking back on you while you pin her down, forcing her to just, take it.

♱ ellie likes it when you use her own words against her (from when she was dominant) and throw it in her face, "you hear that, ellie? you hear that little pussy getting wet for me, huh?" + "you're so loud, ellie. gonna wake up our neighbors."

♱ wants her ass slapped raw.

♱ she goes "uugh, uh, uh, ungnh, f-fuuck!!" when you fuck her. she gets very overwhelmed with how good she's feeling and blacks out.

...

ignore the insane amount of tags...

[lizziesangel]

heyyy, could you do a one shot of rafe x high maintenance!kook!reader, about her expensive skinncare routine and rafe is just so in love of how well she takes cares of herself but at the same time like "90 dollars of this shit????" and reader is just "yeah😁 it has collagen, you should try it"

absolutely love this!!

the night had been perfect—rafe made sure of it. dinner at the fanciest restaurant in town, with white tablecloths and a wine list so long it came in a leather-bound book. he didn’t even blink at the check, sliding his card over with the confidence of someone who did this all the time. the drive home was just as good, you sitting in the passenger seat, admiring your new nails under the streetlights, the soft hum of the radio in the background.

“seriously, rafe, aren’t they gorgeous?” you asked, holding your hand up to catch the faint glow of the dashboard lights. “look at the shine. and the shape? absolutely perfect. they even feel sturdier this time, like they’re not going to chip in two weeks.”

he glanced over briefly, his lips tugging into a lazy smile. “yeah, they look good. but you’ve said that, like, twenty times already.”

“and i’ll say it twenty times more, you’re the one who paid for them,” you pointed out, inspecting them again. “you should be happy i’m obsessed with them.”

“oh, i’m happy,” he said, turning into the driveway. “just wondering if i’m gonna hear about them all week.”

“probably,” you teased, stepping out of the car.

the conversation didn’t stop there. even as you followed him upstairs, you were still gushing.

“seriously, though, rafe. i think this might be my favorite set ever. they’re just so clean and classy.”

“yeah, they’re nice,” he said, pulling his shirt off as he walked into the bedroom. “good thing you didn’t go with that neon pink idea you showed me.”

“it was bubblegum pink, and it was cute!” you argued, crossing your arms.

“sure, babe,” he said with a smirk, falling onto the bed. “bubblegum pink’s cute.”

rolling your eyes, you walked over to the mirror, sighing at your reflection. “ugh, i have to take my makeup off first.”

rafe propped himself up on one elbow, watching you. “can’t you just… skip it?”

you turned to him, horrified. “skip it? baby, do you know what that would do to my skin?”

“no, but i’m sure you’re gonna tell me,” he teased, flopping onto the bed and pulling the blanket up.

you ignored him, grabbing your skincare bag and heading to the bathroom. after what felt like forever, you finally emerged, your face clean of makeup, wearing your silk robe.

rafe was lying in bed, one arm behind his head, watching you with a mixture of impatience and amusement.

“you know what we should get?” you asked, your tone casual.

he raised an eyebrow. “what?”

“a vanity.”

rafe blinked at you. “a what?”

“a vanity,” you repeated, walking over to sit cross-legged on the bed.

“why would we need a vanity?”

“so i can do my makeup and skincare in the bedroom instead of going to the bathroom every time,” you explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

rafe gestured vaguely toward the open bathroom door. “the bathroom’s literally right there.”

you rolled your eyes, scooting closer to him. “yeah, but i’d rather be in here with you.”

he groaned, but there was no missing the fondness in his voice when he said, “you’re unbelievable.”

“and you love me for it,” you said with a grin.

he chuckled softly, pulling you closer for a quick kiss before turning back to his phone. shaking your head with a smile, you stood and padded back to the bathroom, ready to start your skincare routine.

as you began massaging a cleanser onto your face, you heard footsteps behind you. glancing in the mirror, you saw rafe leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, watching you.

“what are you doing?” you asked, surprised but pleased.

“figured i’d see what all the hype’s about,” he said, smirking.

you laughed, turning back to the sink. “all right, pay attention.”

he stayed quiet, watching as you worked.

“first step,” you began, holding up the bottle. “oil-based cleanser. this gets rid of all the makeup and sunscreen.”

“so that’s why your face looks all shiny now?”

“exactly,” you said, rinsing it off. “next step: water-based cleanser. it makes sure everything’s actually gone.”

“seems like overkill,” he muttered, but his eyes stayed on you as you lathered up the second cleanser.

“it’s not,” you insisted, rinsing and patting your face dry with a towel. “now, toner. it balances your skin’s pH and preps it for the rest of the products.”

“you’re making this up,” he said, shaking his head.

“i’m not,” you said with a laugh, grabbing a small bottle. “next is serum. this one’s hydrating—it has hyaluronic acid.”

“whatever that is,” he said, leaning in a little closer.

“it’s amazing,” you said, patting the serum into your skin. “then comes eye cream. dab it under your eyes to keep them hydrated.”

“you have young skin,” he pointed out. “why do you need all this anti-aging stuff?”

“prevention is key,” you said simply, dabbing the cream under your eyes. “next, lip mask. it keeps your lips soft overnight.”

“lip mask?”

“yes, rafe. just trust me.”

he chuckled, watching as you smoothed the mask over your lips. “what’s next?”

“retinol,” you said, holding up a small tube. “but i only use it once a month.”

“why bother, then?”

“because it’s good to start early!” you said, smoothing a tiny amount over your skin.

rafe stayed quiet for a moment, watching as you worked through your routine. his curiosity got the better of him again when you reached for a fancy-looking gold jar.

“how much was that one?” he asked casually.

you hesitated. “uh… ninety, i think?”

“ninety dollars?” his voice shot up an octave as he grabbed the jar to inspect it.

“yes, rafe,” you said, snatching it back. “it’s a luxury brand. it has collagen.”

he gestured at the counter, which was full of bottles and jars from estée lauder, clinique, and clarins. “so how much is all of this combined?”

you shrugged, applying the last of your products. “a couple hundred, maybe?”

“holy shit,” rafe muttered, running a hand through his hair.

you grinned, turning to face him. “what? you like how soft my skin is, don’t you?”

rafe gestured at the counter, which was covered in products from estée lauder, clinique, and clarins. “so… who pays for all this?”

“i do,” you said, capping the jar of moisturizer.

rafe stared at you, incredulous. “no, you’re lying.”

“i swear!”

“no,” he said firmly, crossing his arms. “i’ll pay for it.”

“rafe, you can’t pay for everything,” you argued, rolling your eyes.

he shook his head. “i can, and i will. no way you’re spending this much on—” he gestured vaguely at the counter—“this… whole collection.”

you raised an eyebrow at him. “i budget for it.”

rafe stared at you for a moment, then leaned against the counter with a smirk. “okay, new plan. i’m paying for it from now on.”

“rafe, you can’t just—”

“i can, and i will,” he interrupted, his tone firm but playful.

“you’re not paying for everything,” you argued, narrowing your eyes at him.

he leaned in, his smirk softening into something gentler. “you’re right. i’m not paying for everything. just the stuff that makes you happy. and this”—he waved his hand at your collection of bottles and jars—“obviously does.”

you felt your cheeks heat up, but you rolled your eyes to cover it. “fine, but i’m not letting you pay for all of it. maybe just the retinol.”

“deal,” he said, pulling you into his arms. “but i’m serious. next time, just send me the bill.”

you laughed, resting your head against his chest. “you’re ridiculous.”

“yeah,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “but you love me for it.”

“unfortunately,” you teased, earning a chuckle as he pulled you back toward the bedroom.

MASTERLIST

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[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 10

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader manage to discuss the direction of their physical relationship between makeouts. reader isn't feeling comfortable at her apartment, so they plan their first trip together.

series masterlist

this fic is 18+ warnings/tags: d/s dynamics but not smutty, softdom!spencer/sub reader, mild pda?, hint at switch!spencer, they talk about sex/how r feels about her first time, making out, r has long hair, almost dry humping if you're standing several miles away, unresolved sexual tension, teasing/flirting. don't like? don't read a/n: yayyyyy hi guys!! no idea when part 11 will be out. I missed them. I love them so bad. they are my favorite ever. they are so special to me 4ever. hope u missed them and ur just as happy to see them happy as I am :")

“Do you like eyelet?” Spencer asks, reaching up to grab a set of sheets you couldn’t. He insists that you let him get everything from the top shelf because it’s been handled less. 

You shrug, distracted by the angle of his jaw and the line of his throat as he retrieves the plastic package. 

It’s Sunday. Three nights in a row spent with him—the longest sleepover streak thus far—and you don’t want to go back to sleeping alone tonight. But you know it’s time. Both of you have things to attend to tomorrow, and you’re not exactly in the habit of getting things done when you’re together. All weekend you’ve lounged in his lap on the couch or tangled yourself in his arms in bed—fully clothed, of course. Spencer had suggested the no-sex rule on Friday, and you’re glad for it. You feel no pressure to be doing more when he’s kissing you or holding you. 

Of course, the concept of having sex again crosses your mind—when you’re washing your face and catch a glimpse of the bruises on your neck in the mirror, or when the tips of Spencer’s fingers trace idly over a span of exposed skin on your lower back as you watch a movie on the couch and you’re struck with desire, or you move just right and feel a tiny lingering twinge of soreness. There was a time when if you had Spencer Reid to yourself for three nights, a Navy SEAL wouldn’t have been able to pull you off of him. Now, when you think about the fact that there will be a second time, you get that butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling—but you’re not sure if it’s good or apprehensive. 

Either way, it’d be too much right now. 

You do miss feeling that kind of closeness with him. That intimacy. It can’t be replicated, no matter how many naps you take together. Probably something to do with brain chemicals and hormones. He could explain it all, if you were brave enough to ask. 

So you know it’d be too much… but it’s not that you don’t want it. There is also, of course, the issue of the way he looks. It’s not helping your cognition. It’s not encouraging you to make good choices. 

You’re not supposed to be thinking about sex. You’re supposed to tell him if you like eyelet. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

Spencer gives you an exasperated look and sighs. He’s wearing his glasses today. His hair is freshly washed and fluffy. The navy blue sweater he’s wearing is about the only step between a button down and pajamas for him, and he looks good in casual clothing. You chew your lip. 

He doesn’t notice your ogling. “You’ve said that about everything.”

“I’m really not that passionate about the fabric of my sheets,” you defend, shoulders rising and dropping. 

“Surely you like some of them less and some of them more. Usually you jump at the chance to express an opinion.”

Okay. Uncalled for. 

He’s obviously kidding. You overreact anyway. 

“You suck,” you mumble, brushing past him in search of something suitable for your bed. 

Spencer processes this for a moment and then trails after you down the aisle. 

“I suck?”

“Here, look. Bamboo. That’s good, right?”

Your boyfriend glances at the package you’ve selected, probably holding back a whole host of facts about bamboo farming in China. 

“It’s fine. Why do I suck?”

“Because you implied I’m opinionated.”

“I didn’t imply it. It was an explicit statement.”You groan petulantly and put the sheets back on the shelf with force. Spencer picks them up and follows you deeper into the store. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“You didn’t,” you huff, turning around to face him once you’re safely sequestered in a new aisle. The store’s not busy—an elderly couple roams for fake fruit and towels, humming vacantly to the Muzak, and a single mom wrangles her kids in a cart. Back here, it’s just the two of you. “Not really.”

“Then what did?” He asks gently, stepping closer. Spencer’s not overly-affectionate in public, but the tone of his voice, the way he’s looking at you like he can see your thoughts, feels intimate. 

You’re helpless when he gets like this, and he probably knows it. It’s an abuse of power and when you can think straight again you’ll have to scold him for it. 

“It doesn’t even matter. You’re just gonna drop me off after this anyway.”

He tilts his head like a curious puppy, eyes alight with a good puzzle as he quickly strings together the facts in his head. 

“Is that it?”

You frown and hesitate, eyes catching on a loose thread at the hem of his sweater. 

“�� No.”

“Yeah, it is. You’re upset because I’m taking you home.”

You scramble to deny. “That’s not it.”

“I think it is,” he murmurs, a smile playing at the corners of his perfect mouth. 

You study the waxen floor tiles intently. 

“Well… I mean, would that be weird? You’re gonna miss me too, right?”

You sound unsure—insecure, even. When you look back up at him, his eyes are melted chocolate, even under the fluorescents. He glances down at your mouth briefly and then over your shoulder. 

Pleasekissmepleasekissmepleasekissme.

He doesn’t, but you can tell he really wants to, which is almost as good. 

“Of course, I’m going to miss you. But we’ll see each other soon. Probably tomorrow.”

“Unless you get called out on a case. But it’s not even really that. It’s just—how am I supposed to… I don’t know! We just spent three nights together. How am I supposed to go back to sleeping alone for a whole week?”

Maybe you’re too attached to him now, because acknowledging the thought which has been lurking all morning opens the floodgates that were holding back a sea of dread, and you feel it in every inch of your body. Five nights alone stretch out before you like an infinite, impassable forest. Friday is an eternity away, and there’s no guarantee he’ll even be here Friday night, if the team gets a case. 

Spencer somehow regards you with both curiosity and innate wisdom, like you’re a new specimen in a familiar field, for a long enough moment that your cheeks begin to warm. 

“Sorry, that was embarrassing. I’m being weird, it’s fine—”

Just as you go to walk away, he pulls you carefully back in by the wrist, even closer than before. 

“No. You’re sweet,” he murmurs, hand warm even through the knit of your sleeve. Gingerly you look back up at him. 

“But you’re not gonna miss me as much as I miss you.”

“Do not undermine my capacity for yearning. I missed you when you were brushing your teeth this morning.”

“Ooh. So clingy,” you tease, though you’re obviously delighted by the information, and he borderline pouts. 

“Don’t say that. Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” you laugh as he pulls you to his chest, keeping you there with a hand to your back. 

“Okay. Now say you love me.”

For a moment you’re distracted by the proximity, the lowering of his voice as he brings you into his space and your faces are only inches apart. The smell of his body wash coming from both of you. 

“I love you,” you breathe, and it’s not as teasing as you’d meant for it to be as his eyes dart to your lips. 

Even though you’re bossy, is what you don’t say. 

This seems to please him, because finally, he’s tilting his head down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. It’s still enough to make you lightheaded. 

“Apology accepted. I love you too,” he murmurs. And then he’s pulling back, trying to walk around you. “Do you wanna stop for coffee on the way back to yours?”

“Wait,” you order, suddenly listless and disoriented in the middle of the aisle. “You’re not gonna…”

Spencer frowns back at you.

“I’m not gonna what?”

“You’re not gonna… say it?”

“… I love you? I did say that.”

“No, there’s—usually when I do stuff you ask me to do, you say—”

Only when the first ray of understanding illuminates his face do you realize you actually shouldn’t have said anything at all. 

“Nevermind. Yeah, let’s just go.”

Spencer catches your arm again as you attempt to walk past him, laughing quietly as he leans down to speak in your ear. 

“I am not calling you good girl in the small decorative statues aisle.”

“What if we go back to the bedding aisle?” You ask, through the warmth of your own cheeks. 

It’s sort of a joke. 

“Remember what I said about appropriate context?”

“All those sheets, and duvet covers, and stuff. It’s basically the same.”

When he doesn’t respond, you gather the courage to tear your eyes from a little robot statue and look at him. Eyes ever-so-slightly narrowed, warmed only by a hint of humor. A barely detectable curve of the mouth. 

Oops. With all your blind-button pushing, you might’ve accidentally tapped the one responsible for all the marks on your neck—the one that makes him tick in a way which usually ends with you underneath him. 

And then, for the first time, you actually watch as he pushes it down—activates some sort of self-cooling system. Probably he understands that whether you meant to be provocative or not, this interaction isn’t headed in a salacious direction. Even if you weren’t in public, the rule is holding fast. 

His hand slides from your arm to intertwine with your fingers. 

“What are you doing next week?”

You blink at the sudden change in subject and tone. 

“Uh… I don’t know. Working, probably.”

“From home?”

“Yeah. Why?”

He chews his lip thoughtfully. 

“I… still have a few days of annual leave that I need to use. I don’t know if this is… this might be too much, and you can say no. But Rossi has a place in Shenandoah. It’s a cabin—it’s, it’s really nice, I’ve seen pictures. He used to use it for hunting, I guess now he rents it out in the summer and fall but it’s empty during the off-season and he’s always offering it to the team. It’s only like, an hour away. An hour and nine minutes actually, if you take the 66 Express outside the Beltway from Arlington. I looked it up, um… semi-recently. I’m sure he’d let us use it, if you wanted to come burn four days of leave with me. No pressure. Of any kind. I could also, just, y’know, stay home, and we could still spend time together that way. We could finish Deep Space Nine. Or watch something else. Or watch nothing. Whatever you’d like to do.”

Your heart rate has been increasing steadily since he started his impromptu speech—you’re glad he seems nervous inviting you. You’re a little nervous accepting. A trip together is definitely a new step. But getting the hell out of dodge with him for a few days sounds wonderful. 

“I’d love to go,” you say earnestly. 

Spencer’s face goes blank for a second, and then his eyebrows raise, like he wasn’t expecting you to say yes. 

“Oh. Oh! Great! Okay, I’ll—I’ll talk to Rossi about it tomorrow.”

He remains highly chipper as he hands his card over to the cashier for your new overpriced bamboo sheets. 

The promise of getting Spencer to yourself for four consecutive days and nights is the only way you’re able to fall asleep to a cold bed that night. 

It’s harder, at home now—you’re self-conscious of every and any noise. Music, cooking, talking on the phone. 

It doesn’t make sense, because you know you can’t hear your neighbors, so they shouldn’t be able to hear you, and Jerry’s a creep, who might’ve made the whole thing up just to get under your skin—but it’s all you can think about, when you’re there. 

Monday evening, Spencer comes to visit, as promised. You undo all the locks and open the door just enough for him to slip through. 

He kisses you hello as you close the door and sets his things down at the table while you relock. 

“No Jerry today?”

“Nope. I haven’t seen him since Friday.”

“Good,” Spencer says only once you turn, a distinct chill to his tone and a mostly unfamiliar frigidity to his eyes. It’s not directed at you, but it’s unnerving nonetheless, so you draw closer and wrap your arms around his waist—hoping to melt him back into your Spencer. 

He reciprocates, speaks softer now that he has you in his arms, and immediately you feel better. 

“Rossi said yes to us staying at the cabin and Emily said I can take the time off. Did you still wanna go?”

You’re pre-occupied with your face buried in his shirt, so you just nod, basking in the scent of his shower products once more. They’ve gone from simply comforting to intoxicating. 

“Is everything okay?” He asks quietly, brushing your hair over your shoulder. His fingers barely glance off your neck and you almost shiver. Want begins to pool deep and warm in your stomach as you lift your head and he looks down at you, so fondly. 

Want which you can’t afford to feel if you’re not willing to act on it. 

“I’m fine,” you breathe. Fuck. He’s too close. He’s too hot. You pull away and move to the kitchen. “Um, dinner. What do you want? We could make something. Or order something. I don’t have much, honestly.”

“I’ll be happy with anything. You sure you’re alright?”

“I don’t want to have sex!”

The words simply explode out of you, like a bat out of hell as you whip around. Just barely you manage not to clap a hand over your mouth in mortification. 

You stand, back to the fridge, watching Spencer nervously for his reaction. 

His brow knits. His lips part and close again several times. 

You’re wondering what the fastest and most convenient method of not being alive anymore would be when he finally answers. 

“… Okay. I wasn’t trying to initiate anything, did I—did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No! No, I’m sorry. I just… I wanted you to know that while I’m still, like, figuring things out—like, with my neighbor and everything—it’s just a lot, so… so I know this past weekend we agreed to not do anything and I think it would be best to… keep not doing anything. Just for now. I shouldn’t have said it like that—I didn’t actually… mean to say it. I was gonna, um, find a way to bring it up more delicately.”

You clear your throat and look down to study the patterned tile, cheeks burning. 

By way of several nervous glances up at him and back down, you watch Spencer silently come to lean against the counter across from you, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Okay. Thank you for telling me. We’re not ever going to do anything you don’t want to do. But, out of curiosity… is this just because of your neighbor? Or because you maybe don’t feel ready yet?”

He’s asking gently, because he wants to know, and you know there’s no wrong answer. It’s still nerve-racking.  

“Um… like, a combination of the two, I guess. Mostly… the neighbor. I think. But I’m telling you this because…” and here comes the worst part. “I need you… to… hold me accountable.”

“For what?” He asks plainly, but you know what he sounds like when perfectly suppressing a smile. The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your face as you close your eyes and forge ahead in the name of open and honest communication—something the two of you are trying to work on.

“If I… come on to you… you have to turn me down.”

This is not getting any less embarrassing. 

“Should I anticipate you coming onto me?”

“Probably,” you sigh, looking at him through your lashes and bringing your hands to your cheeks, hoping maybe they’ll cool you down and poor circulation will work in your favor for once. “I know myself. You know me. I like… asking you for things. But for the rest of the week, if I do… you know, want something from you—you have to tell me no.”

Spencer nods slowly. “What if you genuinely change your mind?”

“I won’t. I might think I have, I might even tell you I have, but don’t believe me, okay? I don’t think straight when I’m turned on, and if we do anything, I’ll like it until fucking Jerry is pounding my door down the next day, and I just can’t deal with that.”

Spencer’s face goes completely void of expression to the point that if it weren’t for context clues you’d have no idea he’s probably imagining pistol-whipping the guy. 

“Has he knocked on your door?” 

Testosterone. 

“No. Back to my point. I’m trusting you to keep me in check so I don’t do anything I’ll… I’ll end up regretting. Not that I regret the other night!” You scramble just as Spencer’s brow begins to furrow. “I don’t. I just regret that my gross neighbor had to get involved. And I don’t want that to happen again. So… is that… is that okay? Will you do that for me?”

“Of course I will,” Spencer says gently, without hesitation as he pushes off the counter. “Can I ask a follow-up question?”

You nod and regard the space between you, unsure if you want to eliminate it or keep using it like a buffer. By not coming to you, he’s giving you the choice. 

“You said this was mostly because of your neighbor. But you didn’t sound sure. It’s fine if you aren’t feeling ready yet. I just want to make sure I know what’s going on with you.”

“I don’t really know,” you admit, after a brief pause. “I feel like… as long as I know he’s on the other side of the wall I wouldn’t even be able to wrap my head around how I actually feel. It’s also confusing because, like I was saying, I… just because I feel like I want something in the moment, doesn’t necessarily mean I’m actually ready for it, you know? I don’t even know if… I don’t even know what being ready again really means or would look like.”

“You did the other night.”

“Yeah, but that was different. Because now I’m gonna think I know what I’m getting myself into, but that’s not necessarily true.”

Another pause in which you chew your lip and look away. 

“I don’t want you to overthink it, honey. I think being ready just means you’re comfortable, and you’re with someone who’s going to keep you safe, and nobody’s pressuring you, and you’re not, you know—pressuring yourself. Wanting it is actually really important, too. But what I’m hearing right now is that even if you might want it, you’re not in a place that feels safe. And that makes sense to me. So we’re just not gonna do anything until that changes, okay?”

Eyes still cast downward, your lips twist into a sardonic little smile. 

“I feel like I’m talking to my therapist.”

He laughs with a single breath. 

“I really hope your therapist doesn’t speak to you like I do. The ethics there would be highly questionable.”

The joke refreshes your courage and you look back up at him, smile still edged with humor but mostly unspoken gratitude. 

The half-smile on Spencer’s face, however, is fading steadily as he studies you in flickering passes. Like there’s something still on his mind. You were hoping for a subtle invitation back into his arms, but the space between you remains—infused now with a tension as it becomes increasingly obvious. 

“Also… this trip we’re going on. I feel like I should say this—I don’t know if it was even on your mind, but… I don’t want you to feel pressured to have sex just because of the timing. Me inviting you on a last-minute trip to an isolated cabin—it’s not a master plan to get you to sleep with me again, I promise. I really just wanted us to be alone. Not—not that kind of alone—I mean, we’ll be alone, but it doesn’t have to be like that. I was just thinking about how nice it was for us to get those three nights together, you know, and the whole weekend too, and with my job, that’s not always going to happen, so it just seemed like a good opportunity—”

“Spencer,” you laugh, letting the tension snap like a rubber band as you go to him, slinging your arms over his shoulders, delighted to be the one doing the interrupting and not the flustered rambling, for a change. “I know you don’t have an ulterior motive. As for what kind of alone we’re going to be… we’ll figure that out, okay? Don’t worry about me. I don’t feel pressured by you. I never have. If anything, I’m the one who pressures you for sex.”

You’ve got him smiling once more, as his hands find your waist and his gaze flips from your mouth to your eyes and back again. It goes very subtly mischievous in a way you don’t quite trust, but he’s dipping his head to kiss you, and something tells you it’s going to be a good one, so when your nose bumps against his, and you can feel his breath on your lips, you’re not at all prepared for him to speak. 

“Begging is not the same as pressuring, sweet thing,” he murmurs, and then he’s kissing you so thoroughly you don’t even have time to be properly affronted. The offended gasp gets stuck in your throat, and melts into a tiny huff as it turns out the kiss is a very good one. You can’t think hard enough to be offended. Not even when he chuckles against you. 

“That’s not fair,” you mumble when he allows you a second to breathe. He hums, satisfying himself with kisses to your cheek and playing along. 

“What’s not fair?” 

“You… I was supposed to have the upper hand in that situation! You were the nervous one for once!”

Another hum, buzzing against your lips this time. 

“You have to learn how to take the upper hand, angel. I’ve had a lot of practice. It’s a big part of my job.”

Admittedly it’s hard to think when he talks like this, but you try. 

“So… you manipulate me? That’s not very romantic.”

He laughs quietly again. 

“No. I do not manipulate you.”

“You’re just a control freak,” you tease. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, immediately, still soft-spoken as he pulls back to carefully search your eyes. “Does that bother you?”

You search hands and knees for a crumb of outrage, for a hint of any of that strong feminist theory you’ve instilled into your brain over so many years. 

There’s nothing to be found. 

“No,” you admit, dejectedly, hanging your head as much as he’ll allow. “Should it?”

“Only if you don’t like it. When I take the upper hand like that, I’m really just… posing a yes or no question. So far, you lean towards saying yes. You let me win. But you don’t have to.”

“What happens if I… if I don’t let you win?”

He angles his head, coaxing you to look in his eyes once more. A hand comes up to swipe a dot of mascara from under your brow. He’s looking at you so serenely, like none of this is at all complicated. 

“Whatever you want. I wouldn’t be the one making the rules anymore.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

You laugh nervously. 

“That’s a lot of pressure. What if… I want you to keep making the rules? For forever?”

He kisses you again, insistently enough you have to tilt your head back. When he answers, it’s low, a promise, and pressed right against your waiting mouth. 

“Then I will.”

You loose a tremulous breath from your parted lips and you know he can feel it. He can feel how you’re clinging to his shirt, pressing yourself closer, how your skin has warmed and your breaths have hastened, he can probably taste how much you want him, how you’re already thinking about giving it all up for him—

And maybe that’s why he laughs dryly into your mouth before pulling away. 

Because he’s a good boyfriend. 

Spencer knits his brow and clears his throat as his hand slides down your arm, eyes narrowed like he’s wondering how things escalated so quickly. You certainly are. 

Suddenly he’s back to the nerd you met in a coffee shop all those months ago, and you like him like this, too. “So… dinner?” 

“Mhm. Yeah. We should… we should definitely eat. What do you wanna eat?”

You don’t miss the quick once over he gives you. Or the way his throat bobs once he tears his eyes away. 

“Um… how does Indian sound?”

You swear you don’t know how it happened. 

Everything was going fine—there was food on the coffee table, a show on the TV. Spencer made tea. It was wholesome. 

And then, somewhere between setting the plastic takeout bag down and actually opening it, you ended up like this. Kneeling next to him on the couch, one hand braced on his thigh, the other tangled in his hair as you kiss slow. Like this could actually be leading somewhere. 

“We should stop,” he reminds you, even as his hand traverses up your leg. You lean further into him—he has to tip his head back to meet your lips. 

“We’re kissing. It’s nothing.”

“You were—” kiss. “Just telling me—” kiss. “That you don’t want this right now.”

Deep kiss. The grip he has on your hip does not agree with his words. 

“This is just kissing. Kissing isn’t sex.”

Even as you’re saying it, you’re throwing your leg over his lap, landing in a straddle. 

“No,” he groans as if pained, throwing his head onto the back of the couch and depriving you of his mouth. “Baby. You have to get off. We can’t do this.”

“My bathroom—we could—it doesn’t share a wall with his apartment, we could go in there and turn on the shower and we could be really quiet—”

Suddenly there’s a hand over your mouth. It’s not yours. 

“Please stop before I say yes.”

You pull his hand away, fingers wrapped around his wrist. 

“You should. You should say yes. It’s a good idea, I know he wouldn’t be able to hear us over the shower—”

“It’s not about that. It’s about the fact that you asked me to turn you down not even an hour ago, no matter what you say, and I said I would.” He takes a shuddering deep breath. “And… I’m going to. I’m saying no.”

“No,” you whine, head falling to his shoulder, because you know he’ll keep his promise. He cups the back of your head—a kind, sympathetic gesture, which does nothing to alleviate the heat of your blood or the ache between your legs. You pout into his neck. “This is terrible. I might not survive.”

“I think you will.”

“Maybe if I enter a coma.”

He laughs and strokes your thigh. 

“There are worse things than sexual frustration.”

“Not right now. This is the worst thing I can imagine.”

“I’m so sorry. You poor thing.”

You pull back to face him, hands on his shoulders. 

“Oh my god. Don’t act like it’s not bothering you.”

“I’m not bothered.”

“I know that’s not true. You know how I can tell?”

The slightest adjustment of your hips draws attention to exactly what you mean. Spencer goes completely deadpan. 

“Stop,” he orders in monotone, and you laugh even you allow yourself to be tossed back onto the couch because you’ve successfully flustered him again. He puts a throw pillow over his lap and leans forward, hiding his blush beneath perfect hands with a tortured groan. “You’re terrible.”

The couch attempts to suck you in as you wriggle back from a lying position, propping yourself up on your elbows and grinning at him. 

“I did it,” you gloat. 

He angles his head toward you, revealing half a pretty face, still dusted red but now with all the markings of inquisition. 

“You did what?”

“I took the upper hand.”

Those dark eyes narrow and before you can think to retract your legs he’s wrapping his hands around your ankles, pulling them over his pillow and leaving you flat on your back once more. Again you giggle. 

“You took nothing,” he asserts, but you’re not bothered—still smiling as you accept your new position and toss your arms above your head casually. 

“Somebody’s a sore loser.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Eat your curry.”

“Sorry, I’m full. From, you know, the taste of victory.”

He exhales a dry chuckle, leaning forward to finally retrieve the containers of food. 

“I can’t believe I ever let you call me a nerd.”

The rest of the evening remains PG. Conversation flows and trickles comfortably over dinner on the couch, and afterwards, he suggests a documentary. From the outside, it might not look like much—but to you, with your head on his chest as the TV casts its flickering, ghostly light over the room, with the beating of his heart against your ear and his breath against the top of your head, it’s everything. Six months ago you didn’t know what it was to exist so comfortably around another person like this. Now, though he feels familiar and safe, you don’t take it for granted. The novelty of something so simple is not lost on you, and you feel like the luckiest girl in the world as your eyes begin to flutter. You’re lucky to have someone you feel completely safe with. 

Spencer murmurs your name like a question.  It buzzes against your ear. You hum in response. 

His thumb fans lines over your shoulder blade. “Can I ask you about something?”

“Mhm.”

“The other night… we didn’t really get a chance to—to debrief, afterwards. Which is fine, you were tired, it was late. But then the next morning I had to go, and everything with your neighbor happened, and we talked about that a little bit, but… but earlier, it sounded like maybe you… I don’t know. Maybe you weren’t feeling good about how it happened?”

“Spencer, I told you I don’t regret it,” you remind him, pushing up from his chest to look him in the eye. His hand slides down your back. 

“I know… I just wanted to give you another chance to talk about it. In case anything was on your mind.” He frets over your hair, an invisible speck on your skin. Like he’s nervous. “And I want to make sure you’re feeling okay about how it went. I know what happened the next day was an unfortunate addendum, and I’m sorry about that. As soon as you give me permission, I will have him arrested. But I don’t want that to overshadow your experience.”

“It’s… not,” you breathe, fiddling with a button on Spencer’s shirt. 

“So how did you feel about it? Barring anything external?”

“Good.”

Spencer strokes your jaw with a knuckle, gently admonishing. 

“Don’t just say that. Think about it.”

“I have,” you assure him immediately, cheeks warming as you realize just how swiftly you’d replied. 

What a lovely button. Mother-of-pearl. The shirt is a pale lilac. It looks good on him. One of your favorites, actually. 

Spencer lets you pick at it. He would probably let you pull the button off, tear every stitch on the shirt with a seam-ripper if it helped to soothe your nerves. 

“I’m not trying to embarrass you, or make you uncomfortable. We don’t have to go into explicit detail. I know it still feels weird to talk about. But it’s something we do have to talk about.”

“I know. And I would bring it up if something didn’t feel right. But it… was…” you chew your lip as you think of a way to phrase it that doesn’t sound too mushy-gushy. “Overwhelmingly… a very positive experience.”

“You sound like Yelp review,” Spencer says through a smile. You attempt to smother the continual heat of your embarrassment against his shirt. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable, more intimately than anyone ever has before. And you’re still shy about acknowledging that fact. 

“Shut up. Say something nice back.”

With a typically gentle hand, he pushes hair away from your ear. 

“I…” he begins meaningfully, taking a moment to sweep your hair over your back. “Feel incredibly grateful that you trusted me to take care of you. I know that’s big for you, and I know it can be a really scary thing. Mostly I’m happy you’re happy. And that I didn’t mess up irredeemably.”

“What would you have messed up?” You laugh, retreating from your shelter against his chest to knit your brow. 

He makes a face in the half-dark like he shouldn’t have said it. 

“Uh… that… veers into explicit detail… and possibly too much honesty.”

You laugh again and adjust to frame his sheepish smile between your hands. 

“I see. You have to keep your mystique in tact.”

“I really don’t think it’s that much of a mystery.”

“Well, I’ll spare your ego.”

“Wow, thanks. For the first time in your life.”

You go in for a chaste, smiley kiss, which stays sweet and kind even as it melts into something stickier. 

It comes to a turning point and Spencer inhales deeply, gently angling his head away and shifting to check his watch. You collapse on his chest, catching your breath. 

“I should go.”

“No. I feel like you’re going away to war.”

“I’m going to Court House. Where I live.”

“What if I never see you again?”

“It’s twenty minutes away. So you could always just drive.”

You frown. 

“I hope you get trench foot.”

“You know seventy seven thousand soldiers died from trench foot in World War Two?”

“Obviously I did not know that.”

“Well, next time you should just say you want me to die. Up.”

He pats the back of your thigh and you push off of him, only after considering trying to hold him hostage for a split second. 

You hover by the couch like a ghost, watching with increasing anxiety as he gathers together the empty containers from your meal and throws them in the kitchen garbage before collecting his things. 

There is one thing—one potentially difficult thing you haven’t mentioned to him that seems to be a direct consequence of finally sleeping together. 

You’re clingy. 

Clingier than you’ve ever been. It didn’t seem possible to want to be around him more than you already had, but now when he’s gone you feel his absence like a vacuous hole by your side. Without his warmth, you’re always a little colder. A little less comfortable. 

It’s embarrassing to admit that you’re starting to get separation anxiety, so you won’t put it into so many words—but you think, as he turns, slinging his bag over his shoulder with a knowing look, that he understands. 

At the same time, you begin to close the space, meeting gently in the middle, toe to toe. You keep your hands behind your back, afraid that otherwise you’ll try and glom onto him like a barnacle on a ship’s hull. 

“There are some things I’d like to get done this week so I don’t have to worry about them during our trip. So I might not see you for a day or two.”

Dutifully you nod, though you’re slightly crushed. 

“That’s okay. We’re grownups.”

“I don’t know,” he tuts. “I’m worried I’m gonna start writing my name with your last on all my notebooks.”

That stupid, stupid charm. 

“Mm… I’m kinda out of your league,” you grin. 

Spencer’s smile wanes slowly, but his eyes remain soft and aglow as they explore your face as reverently as his hands would. When he speaks, it’s in an honest, borderline whisper. “I’m acutely aware.”

Slowly his head dips, and your eyes flutter shut. A sweet, lingering kiss lands on your cheek. Then he’s pulling back. 

“That’s it?” You can’t help but ask, peering up at him and barely concealing a frown. 

He smiles that lovely smile, but by this point you’re attuned enough to his facial expressions to recognize the subtle heat playing just beneath the surface of those golden-oak eyes. 

“What? Did I give you the impression that I put out?”

“It’s just a kiss.”

That teasing edge becomes ever so slightly sharper as he regards you, head tilting. 

“Mhm. And the last time you said that—was it before or after you mounted me?”

You shoo him away pretty quickly after that—partly for discipline, and partly because the sooner he’s gone, the sooner you’ll go to sleep, and the sooner it will be tomorrow. 

And this trip can’t come soon enough, because you’re pretty sure you know exactly what kind of alone you’d like to be with Spencer Reid.

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

Agatha: Rio?

Rio: Yes my love?

Agatha: What do you have there?

Rio: An ice cream?

Agatha: What’s next to the ice cream?

Rio: Oh! You mean the small child

Agatha: Yes I mean the small child!

Rio: She’s an orphan

Agatha: Why do you have an orphan Rio?

Rio: She made friends with Nicky at the park and she said she don’t want to go back to the orphanage because the nuns are scary so I said she could come and live here

Agatha: This is one of the most fucked up things you’ve ever done!

Rio: Hey woah! Language Agatha she’s only young

Agatha: She needs to go back to the orphanage Rio they’ll be looking for her

Rio: She said they just let her walk out and they weren’t looking for her

Agatha: But they’ll probably notice soon-

Small child: It’s been 3 days

Agatha: What?

Small child: They watched me leave and let me go

Agatha’s heart breaking: Oh, oh okay well yeah you can stay here a little bit I guess, tell me your name though I don’t want to keep calling you small child

Small child: I’m Nicky and thank you! *runs off to play with Nicholas

Agatha: She’s called Nicky?

Rio: Yep!

Agatha: So now we have Nicky and Nicky

Rio: It’s great right?!

Agatha: You’re never allowed to go outside without me again

Rio: awe damn okay, but can you not put the leash on me again

Agatha: Do you promise not to run off?

Rio:…..bring the stupid leash

Agatha: Okay, now I’ve got to make dinner for two children, I hope she’s okay with us being witches

Rio: She already likes my death form

Agatha: Jesus Christ

[peachesofteal]

more pizza girl

You're fucked.

It's the only way to explain how you feel, standing in the store, staring at bottles of liquor, wine, beer. You don't even know if this is the appropriate thing to do, but you've always seen it in shows, movies, so it must be, right?

You should have said no to this whole thing, should have told them you're busy, or you're working, or you had plans, but for some reason, you just knew they'd see through it. They'd call your bluff.

So here you were, staring at a rack of wine, trying to pick something to take to their house for dinner.

Even the thought is a marvel. You're not a complete shut in, you visit the few friends you have on occasion, your family, attend work functions, but this is different.

You know it is.

"Excuse me?" A petite old lady chirps at your shoulder, and you turn. "Do you need help?"

"Oh, um... no."

"You sure? It's just you've been standing here for almost thirty minutes." Fuck. 

"I'm fine." It comes out more assertive than you would have liked, and she backs away without another word. Great. 

You choose a six pack and book it out of there.

Their place is cozy. Not too small, not too big, clean and organized, orderly.

Except for the dog.

He's massive. 

And slobbery.

And... not for you.

Simon realizes immediately, and herds him away behind a baby gate, where he promptly slumps to the floor and closes his eyes, tongue hanging from the side of his mouth.

"He's..."

"Ye dinnae have to say cute. We know he's not."

"He's a mutt," Simon tells you, placing a bowl of something hot on the table, "but he's ours. Rescued him an' everything. Never liked pets but... found him on the street an' for some reason couldn't leave him behind."

"That's so sweet." He shrugs, Johnny rolls his eyes.

"Didnae tell me a thing. Just came home with a giant slobbering bear." You eye the table and it's three chairs, suddenly overflowing with anxiety. Which one should you pick? Which ones are theirs? Do they sit next to each other? Doesn't someone always sit at the head of the table? "Take a seat wherever," Johnny coaxes but you remain frozen, avoiding their eyes.

A hand folds over your shoulder with gentle, careful pressure, and warmth. "This one." Simon urges you towards the one in the middle, and you relax, grateful.

"Sorry." You mumble, but Johnny reaches across the table and squeezes your hand.

"Ye dinnae have anything to be sorry for. We're really happy you came."

"I... I'm glad I came too." The admission tries to stick in your throat before you force it free, and they reward you with soft smiles.

"Let's eat then."

Dinner passes in a breeze. It's so easy to sit with them, be around them. Involved in their conversation but comfortable enough to bow out of it too, and just listen. They're very good at navigating it, knowing when to stop and go, when to ask you something, and when to move on.

"If you want to stay for a bit, we were thinking about watching a movie. Afraid we're not really exciting." Simon calls over his shoulder, unfolding his glasses and slipping them on his face.

"Oh." Just do it, do it, do it- "Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah but no... nothing scary. I can't do those." Johnny jerks his head towards the couch.

"Nothin' scary."

Simon doesn't give you the opportunity to stress over the seating arrangement this time, and points immediately to the left side of the couch. "The button down on the side will extend the footrest, and it can lean all the way back."

"Wow." Johnny settles on the other side, and Simon takes up an overstuffed armchair to your right.

Lots of distance. You kind of feel sad about it.

Your eyelids start to droop after an hour, and no matter how hard you fight it, you're in a losing battle. "I think I should go home." You mumble, and Simon pauses the screen.

"You alright?"

"I'm falling asleep." You don't make any moves to get up, instead curling in closer, tucking your hands under your cheek. The room is warm, the couch is soft, and the dog is snoring, which is comforting, in a weird way. "Should call an uber."

"We'll drive ye."

"No, no... I'm-" you yawn. You don't want to move, and when no one says anything, you let your eyes close for a few minutes. Just a few minutes.

In the dark, who knows what time or how many minutes or hours later, a blanket is tucked around your shoulders, shoes slipped off your feet, and someone strokes your cheek, trailing up over your forehead and away, lingering briefly.

"Sleep tight sweet girl."

[xyywrites]

Dialogue Do’s and Don’ts

Do: Keep Dialogue True to Character

Instead of:

"I cannot believe this is happening, and I am utterly devastated by the consequences of this disastrous situation!"

Consider:

"This is a mess. I don’t even know where to start."

The first example sounds forced and unnatural, while the second feels more like something a real person would say when overwhelmed. Keep your character’s voice in mind—how would they speak, based on their personality, background, and the situation?

Don’t: Overuse Exposition

Instead of:

"You know, Jane, it’s been three years since we met in that small town in Iowa. I was just 19, and it was the summer of 2003 when you moved to that street, right next to the café where we had our first coffee."

Consider:

"I remember the first time I saw you across the street. You had that awful red scarf on."

The first example dumps way too much unnecessary information on the reader. Stick to the essentials—dialogue should enhance the plot, not rehash everything.

Do: Use Subtext for Tension

Instead of:

"I can’t believe you left me in the middle of the night without a word! I thought you loved me!"

Consider:

"You really should’ve told me you were going. I would’ve liked to say goodbye."

The first example feels overly dramatic and obvious, while the second is subtle yet impactful. Subtext lets the emotions simmer below the surface, creating tension and making the reader feel what’s being left unsaid.

Don’t: Overuse Dialogue Tags

Instead of:

"I don’t think we should be doing this," she said worriedly. "But I want to," he said eagerly. "This isn’t right," she said hesitantly.

Consider:

"I don’t think we should be doing this." "But I want to." "This isn’t right."

Excessive dialogue tags like “said worriedly” or “said eagerly” can feel redundant. Trust the dialogue itself to convey emotion. Only add tags when absolutely necessary.

Do: Keep Dialogue Concise

Instead of:

"You know, the thing is, I’ve been thinking about this a lot. And I realize that this situation is really tricky, and I don’t know how we got here, but I know I don’t want to be in it anymore."

Consider:

"I can’t do this anymore."

The first example drones on and loses impact. The second gets straight to the point, leaving more room for tension, action, and emotional impact.

Don’t: Have Characters Explain Too Much

Instead of:

"I’ve been feeling this way because, you know, ever since I lost my job, I’ve just felt like I don’t know who I am anymore. I guess I don’t have a purpose."

Consider:

"I don’t know who I am anymore."

Over-explaining emotions or backstory in dialogue can sound unnatural. Let your characters’ actions and non-verbal cues fill in the blanks. Sometimes, less is more.

Do: Use Dialogue to Show Relationship Dynamics

Instead of:

"I’m angry at you for leaving me behind like that!"

Consider:

"You’ve always done this, haven’t you? Leave when things get tough."

The second example shows more vulnerability and history between the characters. It’s not just about the present moment—it hints at past experiences and establishes a deeper emotional dynamic.

Don’t: Use Dialogue to Tell How the Character Feels

Instead of:

"I feel so hurt by what you said to me yesterday. It really hurt my feelings."

Consider:

"You didn’t have to say that. I’ve been trying my best."

Rather than stating exactly how they feel, the second example shows the character’s hurt through their reaction. Let the emotions emerge naturally from the character’s words.

Do: Use Pauses and Silence

Instead of:

"Why didn’t you tell me? You should’ve said something earlier!"

Consider:

"You should’ve told me." (Beat) "Why didn’t you tell me?"

The pause makes the second line feel more impactful and thoughtful. Silence and beats in dialogue create space for the reader to feel the tension and weight of the moment.

Don’t: Use the Same Dialogue Formula Repeatedly

Instead of:

"Are you okay?" "Yeah, I’m fine." "Are you sure?" "Yeah, I’m sure."

Consider:

"Are you okay?" (Beat) "Do I look okay?" "I—" "No. I’m not."

Repetitive dialogue can make conversations feel mechanical and predictable. The second example introduces uncertainty, making the dialogue feel more natural and layered.

[luvergirl777]

Cleanin' Baby | Dean Winchester

Pairing | Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count | 12.5 k

Genre | Enemies to Lovers, Smut

Summary | Dean can't stand new people, especially people intruding on his life and telling him what to do. You drive him insane, Sam having to separate the two of you before fists and teeth start flying. You finally get under his skin for the last time with your dumb stunts, pushing him over the edge.

Index | Dean and reader fight constantly, Sam is the babysitter, Dean hates you because you are him, you're also incredibly hot, not that he'd admit it, perhaps maybe just a bit he admits it. Unprotected sex, wrap it up folks. Soft dom Dean, a bit of sub Dean. He's whipped and will listen to a pretty girl. Two idiots in love.

Dean is never fond of new people, it takes him a very long time to warm up to newcomers. When the two brothers find you battered and bruised, barely still alive after fending a demon off on your own, he’s a bit impressed. Upon further investigation, Sam watching over you, Dean realizes you had managed to damn it back to hell all on your own. Even more impressed, Dean is confused as to how you managed to survive. “You said it was aggressive?” Dean double checks, wondering if you somehow got lucky and encountered the impossible, un-aggressive demon. Sure, that would explain how you managed to survive on your own. 

“Are you fuckin’ stupid? You think I beat myself up after killing the damn thing?” 

“Well you didn’t technically kill it but-” 

“Oh shut up, pretty boy.” You grit, rolling your eyes as you hold onto Sam’s arm to stand up. Sam, ever so caring, nearly lifts your weight with no effort. He’s supporting all of your weight easily as you try and hobble along to safety. 

“Easy now sassy, you’re about one hit away from dying.”

“You gonna hit me?” The face you give him is unreadable, and Sam is preparing himself to jump in between the two of you if needed. You’ve stopped walking, completely turned around as you face Dean behind you. Dean, never one to back down, takes a step closer to you. 

“Guys, c’mon.” Sam intervenes, pushing his brother by the chest to create some distance between the two of you arguing. “You two sound like a couple of 5 year olds.”

Both you and Dean roll your eyes, and you’re hobbling your way out the door to get to some sort of hospital to get a check up. The pain is actually ridiculous, and if you weren’t so battered, you probably would've fought with Dean more. “Here, let us give you a ride,” Sam offers, quickly chasing you in fear you would topple after leaving his side. 

“She is NOT bleeding all over baby,” Dean protests as Sam walks you out of the door, taking you to the car. Dean closes the door behind him after glancing inside once more, still in disbelief of what the hell is happening. They burst open your door expecting to damn something to hell, and instead found you bleeding out in the middle of the floor. And now you and Dean are arguing as you hobble your way to the back of Baby. 

“You call this car baby?” You roll your eyes, “You gotta take care of her better if you’re gonna call her a fucking pet name. This thing has 2 years of fuckin’ dirt on it. Baby my ass.” Dean almost stops in place, arms raising slightly in defense, jaw dropped as he looks at Sam. Usually you're more pleasant, however, you're battered and bruised and in pain.

After absolutely giving it to Dean, you’re opening the back door and limply climbing in. You’re collapsing against the seat before Dean can jab at you. Dean wants to dish it out once again, and Sam slaps a hand over his mouth. He can’t deal with the two of you, he really can’t. Closing the door behind you, Sam’s turning around to talk sense into his stubborn older brother. “She damned a demon on her own, she could help us.” 

“Her, help us?” Dean scoffs, “Yeah, I’d rather be kicked in the balls.” 

“I’m about to if you don’t shut the hell up,” Sam shoves him around the car, “It could be good, finding someone to put you in your place every now and then.” 

That's how you met, and it’s been years already. Despite being together almost 24/7, you and Dean are still constantly at each other’s throats. If you’re not lashing out at Dean, he’s dishing some snarky shit out to you. Sam stays as uninvolved as he can, always letting you two at it before it’s clear intervention is needed. 

--- 

“You really don’t have to sit there and watch me like some hawk,” Dean’s annoyed as you perch yourself on a stool, watching as he works on Baby. It’s about a million degrees and Dean has refused to drink anything but alcohol and coffee for the past 24 hours, and not to mention it’s the middle of the day with the sun beating down overhead. “I don’t need a babysitter. “

“Sammy’s worried about you, said you’re going to have a heat stroke or pass out. Figure I’d come out here and pester you into coming back inside.” You shrug, completely unbothered as you don’t move from the stool. Your tone is nonchalant, only getting on his nerves more. Baby is technically sound and purring like a kitten on the road, Dean’s just been itching to tinker and a distraction from you waltzing around the bunker. “God know’s Sammy’s not gonna do it-” 

“Stop calling him that?” 

“Calling who what?” 

“Sammy.” Dean mumbles, already turning around from you to focus back on the engine. You’re already getting on his nerves, and if he looks at you any longer you’ll succeed in pestering him back into the house. “Go back inside and tell my nerdy little brother I’m fine out here. By myself.” 

“Sam’s not gonna take that for an answer.” You’re still calm and collected, leaning forward on the stool as you get a closer look at what Dean’s doing. You watch his hands work, nimble and quick as he easily gets into every corner he wants. There’s a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips at your thoughts, and you’re trying awfully hard not to laugh loudly. Dean can almost hear the joke writing itself in your head, and feel the smile growing on your face. “You know you’re really good with your fingers-” 

“Okay! You win!” And he’s storming back into the bunker to get water from an expectant Sam in the kitchen, already in a glass with ice. “Don’t.” He speaks to him, raising a finger to Sam. He can already hear the thoughts in his head, too. 

---

“Oh really, that’s your smart ass plan?” You mumble, listening to Dean attempt to explain the plan of waltzing into a bank and trying to sweet talk a bank teller to the vault. It would never in a million years happen, regardless of how annoying charming Dean could be. No one is that stupid, not even a bank secretary who doesn’t know who Dean is. 

“Well, if you have anything better, please enlighten me.” He’s slamming the folder down on the table in front of you, crossing his arms. 

“Anything is likely better-” When you stand up from your seat, and Dean steps toward you, Sam is quick to intervene before you two start dishing it out. 

“OKAY!” Sam basically yells to get your guy’s attention. You two calm down, you sitting down, Dean stepping away from you, and Sam finally taking a breath. 

---

Or the one time you drove Baby, absolutely full throttling her around turns as if you were a professional driver. In your defense, you didn’t crash and actually handled it quite well. Poor Sam is laying down in the back of the car, injured and praying you get to the hospital soon. But Dean was about to have a heart attack in the passenger seat of his car. He’s pressed against the door with the force you’re jerking the car around, gripping anything he can reach. 

“Never again, never again.” Dean almost prays underneath his breath, but he’s not and never will be a religious man.

---

Or the one time you were the bait for some creepy old man, needing to steal a weapon he had on display in his house. You were in the middle of his bed, about to fake vomit as he ran his hands along your waist. “Listen, I heard something you had. Something very impressive, an ancient weapon of sorts.” You purr, rolling your eyes as he goes along with it. 

“Of course I do, it’s in my office. I can show you after we’re done here.” He mumbles, and you’re swinging and clocking him against his temple, toppling him over. He lands with a thud on the hardwood floor, knocked out cold. At the commotion, Dean is bursting through the door. 

“HEY!” Dean screams, puffed up and ready for action. 

“He’s knocked out, dick for brains.” You mumble, climbing off of the bed and adjusting your dress which had ridden almost all the way up to your waist. He swears he catches a peek of the pink panties you’re wearing, but for his benefit, he’s trying to convince himself he saw nothing at all. News flash, not and never was going to work. Dean watches with wide eyes, his gaze following and trailing along your bare skin down to your thighs as you cover yourself back up. “Thanks for caring, pretty boy.” 

Dean rolls his eyes, walking over to the man that is unconscious against the hardwood floor. He’s mumbling something underneath his breath, landing one more blow onto the old bastard, before finally catching back up with you in the office. 

—-

You and Dean are on a hunt the first time he lays hands on you. You both had been separated, running and hiding in respective locations of the mouldy, broken down house. Dean’s frantic and stressed after hearing you yelp on the other side of the house, rushing over to find you and seeing no one. He's running around the house at this point, stopping for two seconds in the middle of the hallway to try and find his thoughts. 

A hand grabs his shoulder, grip hard enough to leave bruises underneath his jacket. He's whipping around before he can even think another thought, hand balled up into a tight fist as he spins. It’s too late to pull his punch when he realizes, eyes wide as he makes contact with your confused expression. He can pull it about 90%, softening the impending blow to your cheek bone. He's yelping for you when his fist makes contact with your skin, already groaning at himself. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Sorry! You scared me.” Dean’s explaining immediately, arms catching you before you even have the chance to stumble backwards from the blow. He cradles you before you can air out your grievances, one hand coming to hold your cheek in betrayal. “I thought they had you, god I thought they had you.” He mumbles as he holds you, reassuring both you and himself that you’re okay, or trying to at least. 

“Dean, god.” You groan, peering up to look at him. “Let's finish this job, please, without any more collateral damage.” You mumble, shuffling around to find your knife. “Fuckers took my blade.” 

“It's okay, I'll get them.” Dean mumbles, quickly pressing his lips to your hairline before letting you go. You stay behind Dean, this time a considerable distance, as he finishes the job and gets the both of you out of there safely. Dean has reason now, speeding out of there like hell after killing anything in his path. 

Getting back to the bunker, Dean parks the car and doesn’t move an inch. You already know why, and you already know the speech he’s about to dish out. “Listen-“ 

“It’s not your fault.” You immediately cut him off, shaking your head. You already have a bruise forming on your cheek despite Dean doing his best to pull his punch. The guilt eats him every time you look at each other and he has to divert his eyes. 

“Alrighty,” Dean presses his lips together as he thinks of another solution. “Give me one,” Dean nods, waving his hands to get you to come closer. You scoff at him, shaking your head as you fight off the laugh that bubbles. You’ve seen him and Sam go at each other like this, getting even in a way only brothers can. He taps his cheek, looking to the side. “Give me two, actually. One to make it even, one for putting my hands on a woman.” He waves you closer, dead serious. 

“Dean-“ 

“Lay 'em on me, one at a time, back to back, hard as you want, doesn’t matter, come on.” He’s still looking away from you, refusing to take no for an answer and he waits for the blows to land. He didn’t mean to, you know it, and you know he’s going to feel bad for a while. You scoff and shuffle, Dean tenses as he waits for the blow. You kiss his cheek, grabbing his face and turning it, before kissing his other cheek. 

“There, two blows, back to back.” You smile, “Now let’s go inside so I can get ice for my cheek.” 

Dean’s blushing like an idiot before scurrying after you, “I'll get the ice, you go lay down!” 

---

You had been sick for well over a week while the boys were on a job, sitting by yourself in a house and working as the information specialist for the time being. When they would call, you’d give them all the information you had been collecting within the past couple of hours. Always hours, never days, because you’d get too worried about them. Dean, not admitting it, also calls every couple of hours to make sure you’re still kicking. You sound like hell, and it’s becoming increasingly clear to him that you are not taking care of yourself while they’re away. 

Sam’s out on a home visit, and Dean is fidgeting with his phone in his hands. Pressing buttons, deleting the numbers, and the cycle repeats itself. Finally putting his big girl panties on, he dials your contact and calls. “Dean? Is everything okay?” Your voice is worried, the call slightly random from the semi-schedule you guys have grown accustomed to. 

“Hey, hey, yeah we’re good. Sam’s just out making some runs, you know.” He sounds awkward and like a loser, he already knows it. He can pretty much hear Sam’s voice mocking him. “Just wanted to call, see how you’re holding up. Taking that medicine I got? Eating everyday?” He’s interrogating you, for your well being of course. 

“The medicine you got me is like ketamine…or something.” You laugh. 

“What?! It is not-” 

“It so is! Some random pills you got from who knows where, from who knows, and you’re telling me to take them?” You’re scolding him softly, but he can still hear the humour in your voice. 

“Whatever, when we get back I’m gonna smother you back to good health.” You roll your eyes at this, Dean knows that without even being in the room with you. “Pills and all.” 

“Dean, whatever. Just don’t die and get back here soon.” You laugh softly on the other side of the phone. Dean can hear the tone of your voice, almost pleading with him. In your defense, the two of them had been gone for over a week on the job including travel time to get there. 

--- 

Dean will never admit it but after that he gets softer around you, starts looking out for you more than he lets on. He’s a softie, even if he won’t show it. The first time Dean almost dies since you’ve joined the team, it’s the first close call the three of you have had to someone actually dying. Sure, the three of you have been hurt and wounded, but nothing quite like when Dean’s guts were outside of his body for far too long to actually be okay. 

He’s been in surgery for hours at this point, Sam had left a while ago to try and put some distance in between him and his brother possibly dying in front of him. You’re left in the cold waiting room by yourself, elbows on your knees as you wait. Your face has been rubbed more times than you can count, one more and your face will come off. You curse Sam for leaving you alone, but part of you does understand as well. 

You rocket out of your seat at the beginning of “D-” whipping around to face the nurse before she can even finish his name. You’re frantic, sure, but you can’t help it. “Dean? Is it for Dean?” Your voice comes out more of a mumble, the poor nurse nodding her head softly. She leads a shaky you to his room, heart in your feet. The nurse stops at the front, stepping to the side to allow you to walk in on your own. It takes all willpower in your body to not immediately crumble to the floor at the sight. Dean’s eyes are open, squinted almost completely shut, as his head rolls over to the side to look at you. 

His eyes widen the slightest bit at the sight of you and not Sam and the tears immediately begin flowing down your face. You try hard not to audibly sob, but it’s taking a lot of effort. “H-hey, Dean.” You sound pathetic as you shuffle over to the side of his bed, almost scared that your presence alone will send him back into a near death state. As soon as you make it to the side of the bed, his arm reaches over and brushes against your leg. “You fucking dick!” You’re hysterical as he makes contact. “You can’t scare me like that! Ever! Don’t ever do that again!” Absolutely ridiculous as you crumble down onto the bed, your arms wrapping around his head. 

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. We’re okay.” He’s quick to comfort you, arms weakly wrapping around your waist. He grunts with the effort it takes in his current state. You’re almost climbing into the bed with him at this point, not wanting to let go of him. He’s trying not to cry with your state of general mess, seeing you so upset is getting him emotional. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, Dean. God, I was so scared. Sorry. Sam is just out to get some air. You know how he deals with this, I’m sure they’ve called him.” You’re prying your arms away from his form, sitting down on the bed next to him. Maybe it’s the hysterics, but you’re running your fingers through his hair and gently holding his face in the other hand. Leaning forward, you place the shakiest kiss on his forehead. “You’re never allowed to go by yourself ever again.” Sam walks in on the two of you like this, you obsessively petting his head while holding his face in the other palm. Your entire face is wet at this point, tears soaking your features. 

Sam lets you sit for a moment longer, the wet patch on your shirt indication that this is needed. Eventually, he has to butt in otherwise Dean will think his brother hates him. When he finally clears his throat, you almost scatter away from Dean.  

---

Eventually, you become a part of the little family they have. It takes a long time for Dean to come around, and Sam takes less time. When Sam lets you call him Sammy for the first time without correcting you as he does everyone else, Dean knows you're in for the long haul. Technically it’s the first and only time you’ve called him Sammy in front of him, the circumstances and situation making you talk before thinking. 

Sam and Dean had been fighting the entire job, at each other’s throats for something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. Usually it’s banter and general sibling bickering, but this time it’s different. The tipping point comes when Dean mumbles something under his breath in the hotel room after a long day, Sam immediately reacting as he jolts up. Before you can even comprehend what the argument is about, fists are flying and the two are grappling each other. You’re watching with wide eyes, never quite seeing the two get this distant from each other. Sam is Dean’s baby brother, he’d do anything for him. 

“Guys, what, stop!” You mumble, trying to intervene as Sam has gotten Dean pinned by the throat underneath him. You know they wouldn’t do any permanent damage to each other, but you still feel your stomach flip at the position. “Guys, please!” Your eyes are watery and you’re trying with all of your force to pull Sam off of him. Sam, easily outweighing you, doesn’t budge an inch and is just more annoyed at you pulling him. 

“If you want to leave, leave. We don’t need you.” Dean spits, pushing at Sam’s arm that remains at his neck. Sam clenches his jaw, clicking his tongue. 

“I won’t come back this time.” Sam spits, deadly serious. You’ve never heard Sam this serious in the entire time you’ve known him, not on a hunt, not on an investigation, nothing. Dean’s about to say something before you’re slapping a hand over his mouth. You’re crying at this point, pathetically holding Sam’s arm as you rest your face against his shoulder. You can’t move him. 

“Sammy, please.” You cry, a horrid sob leaving your throat as you plead with him. Even Dean looks sideways at you, shocking him as well. At the plea, Sam steps back, releasing the pressure he’s holding Dean to. “Sammy, stop. You can’t leave us, we need you, please.” You cry softly, letting go of Dean’s face to hold Sam’s arm instead. 

“I- I’m sorry.” Sam mumbles softly, shrugging you off his arm in favour of pulling you into his embrace. “It’s okay, we’re okay. I’m not going anywhere.” Sam mumbles, trying to console you. You nod into his chest, reaching over to hold Dean’s face rather than slapping your hand over it. Dean leans into it, pushing his cheek into your palm. For the first time, it’s you being the negotiator between the two brothers rather than Sam being in between you and Dean. And for the first time, it was actually scary. 

---

With Sam, Dean doesn’t keep tally on who saves who’s ass. He’s family, it’s expected. And with you, he doesn't either. (He totally does, he just won’t admit it. However, you’re two up on him, and it kills him every time he thinks about it.) He swears to himself he’ll make it even eventually. 

---

Dean’s final straw is you washing Baby, wearing an all too small bikini as you wash the grime off of her. You had been giving him shit for it for awhile now, always quoting his dad on how he should’ve been taking better care of the car. It kills him, always being lectured about his precious baby that has been HIS car for years now. 

“What are you doing?” Dean asks, the front door of the house you’re staying in swinging open. He’s walking out just enough to watch closer, arms crossed as he stands on the sidewalk to the front door. You’re in the driveway, squatted down, washing the rims when he interrupts you. 

“Washing your dirty ass car.” 

“And why would you do that?”

“I have to ride around in the thing, it might as well look nice.” You shrug, continuing to wash. Your back is facing him when you talk, and Dean is watching almost your every move. His eyes trail down your back, over the curve of your ass, before landing on your thighs. They flex underneath your weight, a sight for sore eyes as he watches you. 

“No, smart ass, why are you doing it? Shouldn’t I be the one to wash my own car?” Dean mumbles, moving closer to you. You don’t budge, still crouched down next to his car. When he walks closer, it’s immediately a bad idea, and it’s too late before he realizes. 

“Well, you haven’t in let's say, the better part of 2 years so,” For the first time since he’s talked to you, you break your focus to look at him. Much closer to you, you have to crane your neck to look up at him. Still squatted down, in that tiny ass bikini you’re wearing. It covers enough of you to be legal, but god damn it, he’s reeling. 

“Don’t, don’t fucking do that.”

“Do what?!” 

“Acting like you don’t know what you’re doing.” Dean grits his teeth, squinting his eyes as he stares down at you. 

“What I know I’m doing is washing your car. You’re the one that came out here for whatever reason. To fight with me? Who fuckin’ knows.” You turn your attention back to the car, “You can help me, instead of sitting there and bitching. Shirt off though, that’s a requirement.” You laugh out the last part, reaching to the side and throwing soap at him. It makes his white shirt see through, showing his skin through the cloth. 

“This is ridiculous,” Dean sighs, rolling his eyes. For a moment, you don’t think he’s going to play along. For a moment,  you’re sure he’s just going to walk back into the house. You smile softly when he’s pulling his shirt off, throwing it somewhere back towards the front door. You giggle, now playing a game with him. You smile as he reaches into the bucket, taking another sponge and beginning to wash the back rim. 

In the time you’ve known him, Dean is easy to rile up. Some good banter, a few batted eyelashes, maybe even look up at him, and he’s a goner. You’ve seen him get more numbers at bars than you can count on both hands and feet, never leaving a town without one. It’s a part of why you’ve never made  a move, because you know him. And you know his type, and you know what he likes to do. Just a little bit of fun, a little playing here and there. Regardless, it’s fun. 

You giggle, moving from the rim you’re washing to the hood. You’re leaning over the hood, bending at the hips to reach the top. Dean stands up from the back, determined to watch you wash the hood. He scoffs softly, walking around to you. “You’re doing this wrong,” He mumbles. 

“You haven't washed this in years and you’re lecturing me?”

“Just, shut the hell up for a second.” He mumbles, reaching around you to move your arm. He moves the sponge in circular motions, leaning over you. His hips barely make contact with yours, only the side of his hip brushing against your ass. If he moves over a single step, he’d be completely behind your bent over form. Suddenly, it’s all too much, he’s too close, and you’re so incredibly warm. “What, you’re finally listening to me for once?” Dean chuckles at your silence. 

You’re quiet, face beginning to flush. “Not listening, smart ass. I’m just learning the right technique, according to you.” You’re pressing your ass against the hip that’s next to you, trying for the life of you to get him to move. His hand flys down to grab at your waist, holding you still. You’re still in this ridiculously small bikini, and his hand is now on your bare skin. 

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” Dean mumbles, his head falling forward slightly. His forehead hits your shoulder for a moment before he’s pulling himself up. Putting some space in between you, his hand still remains on your waist. For a moment, a realization hits him at how small your waist is, especially compared to his hands on your skin. 

“If i’m not, who else would be?” You giggle, leaning further forward to reach the very top of the hood. From his teaching, you wash small circles. “You know, everyone’s out of the house until later tonight, right? Some dinner, poker match. I’m surprised you didn’t go with them.” 

“What’re you saying, hm?” Dean mumbles, once again leaning over you. This time, he’s slightly more behind your hips, giving you more leverage to press back against him. 

You smile, feeling his chest hit your back as he leans forward, head beginning to nestle in the crook of your neck as he talks, lips brushing against your ear. As his weight falls further onto you, you allow your arms to fold as he presses against your back. You rest on your forearms, the change in position pressing harder into his hips. 

“Was this your plan the entire time, hm?” Dean grits, one hand moving to adjust your jaw, pushing your head to the side to make you look at him. “Wear this slutty excuse of a bikini, walk out here and wash my prized possession, get me to join? Hm?” 

“I wouldn’t say the entire time,” You giggle. “Maybe just since you walked out here.” You shrug, whining when he adjusts his hand, allowing his hand to move from your jaw to your neck. 

“This is unfair,” Dean mumbles, softly biting into your shoulder. “My favorite girl, out here washing my favorite car, and you expect me not to take the bait?” 

He allows his hand to move, instead of holding your waist, he holds your abdomen, pushing you back against him. You can feel him pressed against your skin, able to slot his hard cock in between your folds when you move a certain way. The fabric leaves little to the imagination, and he can feel the heat in between your legs. 

“You gonna be mean, and take me right here? Or be nice and take me to the bedroom hm?” You tease him, moaning softly when he grinds against you. 

“You know me, I like it all. So both.” He smiles, and though you can’t see it, you know. His fingertips dip underneath your bathing suit bottoms, trailing down to exactly where you need him. “You’re fucking soaked,” Dean mumbles, “You were thinking about this for awhile, huh? Pretending to just be washing my car, what a load of shit.” Dean mumbles, groaning softly as his fingers slip through your folds. He rubs gentle circles into your clit, slowly building pressure. 

“You, I, just maybe.” You whimper, immediately weak in the limbs as he toys with you. The circles speed up, drawing out the softest whines and whimpers. He chases the noises as if it’s his own high, humming along softly when you let out a particularly loud whimper. 

“How long have you been thinking of this, hm?” Dean asks, snaking one arm behind you as he gently slips a finger into your pussy, slow and careful in his movements. You whine even louder, tightening around his fingers as he slips in another, fucking into you while rubbing your clit with his other hand. He’s adamant, chasing your high before thinking of himself. “Answer me,” 

“Not long, since you’re all over every single girl you can get your hands on.” You mumble, riling him up. He fucks more roughly into you, grinding harshly against your g-spot. “Just need some relief, and you’re the only one here.” You’re lying through your teeth. 

“You know all that shit is just me messin’ around, and you’re a bad liar, you know that?” Dean mumbles, beginning to kiss along any skin he can reach. “This wet? And you expect me to believe this is for anyone, hm? I bet if Sammy came out here, you would’ve immediately covered up, huh, hide all of this.” His hands reach up to pull at your bikini top, exposing your tits to his touch. He roughly gropes and feels your skin, twisting and pulling at your nipples, punishing you for riling him up. 

“Okay, maybe not Sammy.” You shrug, “I could find a cutie at the bar, though, I’m sure.” His hand moves forward to wrap around your throat once again, squeezing just enough to make your mind fuzzy and to stop talking like a smart ass. 

“But you wouldn’t, if you wanted to, you would’ve already done it.” He shrugs, you can feel the movement against your shoulders. You’re close, squeezing down around him. You don’t even have to tell him, he’s already teasing and pulling your strings before you can speak. “See, who else can rile you up like this, hm?” 

“Can you make me cum, or are you all talk Dean?” You grit, almost unable to speak with him all over you like this. Every sense of you is filled with him, he’s all you can think of. 

“Yeah, sure,” He laughs softly when you clench hard around him, teetering close. “You don’t have to tell me you’re close, I can feel it. If you keep being smart with me, I can stop. It won’t take much, you know, rip this pretty little orgasm away from you in a second.”

His fingers slow, no longer giving you the stimulation you need to actually cum. “Please, please, I’m sorry. Please make me cum.” You plead with him. 

“There she is,” He laughs, speeding up once again to allow you to fall off the edge. When you come undone, it’s violent. Your legs shake, you tighten around him, and you thank god for baby underneath you to hold your weight up. Dean forces you to ride out the high, slowing down only barely to not push you into over-stimulation. 

“Fuck me.” You mumble, roughly pulling him closer to you. It doesn’t matter how, you need it. “Now, Dean, unless you can’t get it up in your old age-”

He slips one of his fingers into your mouth, roughly pulling on your cheek. “A please would be nice, huh Pretty girl?” Dean mumbles, and you can hear the sound of his belt unbuckling. It’s fast and hasty, and you already know he’s pissed off with you constantly nagging him. “Just demand demand demand, whine whine whine.” Dean grits, roughly pulling your bottoms to the side, “Is that all you do, huh?” He’s pushing into you before you can react, pulling a loud moan from you as he holds your mouth open. 

“Fuck, fuck, thank you,” You whimper, squeezing around him tightly. He bottoms out, grinding against your hips as he savours the feeling of being completely inside you. His hips are rough, battering into you with little remorse. Fucking the smart ass out of you, that’s what he’s gonna do or die trying. From the mewls and whimpers slipping past your lips without your control, he feels he’s doing a pretty good job. 

“That’s more like it, there’s my girl.” Dean groans, cock throbbing at hearing you finally shut up for the first time, literally, since he’s met you. For once in his life, you aren’t spitting some sarcastic ass shit at him, and he’s not spitting it back at you. “Feels good hm, does my girl feel good?” Dean’s deep voice sends goosebumps across your skin, the vibrations running through you like a live wire as you work yourself up further. 

“Your girl, hm? That’s new.” You mumble, moaning softly when his grip moves to press down on your tongue, stopping you from talking. Drool pools around his finger, and he groans when you wrap your lips around it, tongue moving slightly underneath his touch to run along the pad. 

“Is that a problem?” 

You can’t respond, and he knows it. You clench tightly around him, a vice grip in response, and he almost genuinely laughs at how needy you are for him. His hips react immediately to you, thrusting rougher into you, chasing the pleasure the both of you are feeling. Moving his grip from your waist, he begins rubbing tight circles against your clit, trying to get you over the edge. It doesn’t take much to get you to fall over the edge, legs shaking underneath both of your weight. 

“Good girl, easy, easy, ride it out. Don’t hurt yourself now,” Dean patronizes you gently, continuing to chase his own high. 

“Cum, cum Dean, please.” You mumble around his fingers, tightening around even further. You’re so tight and just absolutely soaked that he’s spilling into you soon after, chanting your name gently in your ear as he comes undone. “Fuck, fuck,” You mumble, finally beginning to relax as he slows down his movements. 

“C’mon pretty girl, I gotta give you the second half of my promise.” Dean laughs softly, “Or not, if you can’t take it.” 

“If I can’t take it? Are you kidding me?” You smile, carefully pushing yourself up on your hands, glancing back at him. “Let’s go, your bed so I don’t have to wash my sheets later.” At this, Dean rolls his eyes, of course. Still, the second you turn around to face him, he’s hoisting you up onto his waist, pushing at your legs to get you to wrap around his torso. He carries you easily, walking through the empty house and straight to his room. Your back hits the bed, Dean toppling with you soon after. 

“Gonna make soft mushy love to me, huh Dean?” You joke with him, your legs still wrapped around his torso, arms holding his head in your palms. 

“After bending you over Baby, yeah. Best of both worlds or whatever they say.” Dean smiles, his characteristic smirk etched on his face. His head dips down slightly, softly kissing against your jaw, moving down to your neck, before sucking light marks into your chest. Far enough down not to be interrogated by Sammy later, but enough to leave a reminder of him. His head continues to trail down, hands pulling at your bikini bottoms while he bites at your thighs, once again leaving his mark on your otherwise perfect, unbroken skin. 

“Never would’ve thought I’d have you here like this, hm?” He’s rolling his eyes at you, moaning softly when your hands come to pull at his hair. Your thighs rest on his shoulders, tightening the slightest bit around his head when he draws closer, finally making contact with you. “Fuck Dean, you gonna be nice, Dean, please?” 

“To you, of course.” 

Dean is skilled, to say the least. He knows what he’s doing, where he needs to work, what strings he needs to pull, how to get you there. Dean isn’t quiet about his skills either, you’ve heard sly remarks about the girls at bars, road side pubs, and everything in between. He’s living up to his legend, your thighs clamping around his head within minutes. You don’t let him get any smart ass remarks in, pulling him closer when you know he’s about to make fun of you. You control him so easily, muscular legs holding him in place. He’s not going to tell you, you’d never let him live it down, but he’s absolutely shaking at the thought of the hold you have over him. 

“Gonna cum for you Dean, you’re gonna make me cum.” You whine, thighs flexing to grind against his face. He moans into you, caught off guard by your movement. You do it again, whimpering when you realize he likes this, he’s into this. “Cumming, fuck, cumming.” 

His hands move to run along your thighs, trying to calm the shaking underneath his touch. “Good girl, so good for me.” Dean praises. Before he can react, you’re ripping him up. You're holding anywhere you can, forcing Dean to hover over you, legs once again around his waist. 

“You gonna let me kiss you, or is that crossing a line?” 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Please.” Dean mumbles, sighing deeply when you immediately connect your lips. Your arms immediately wrap around his neck, pulling him as close as physically possible. Dean wants to melt into you, fuse with you. He’s riling himself up, he knows that, but he swears your lips on him are heaven sent, curing his soul from whatever horrors it has been forced through. Like a breath of fresh air, like he’s alive again. He’d never tell you that, he can only imagine your reaction and the shit you would give him. 

You’re kissing him as if your life depends on it, hands tangling in his hair. Dean could kiss you for hours and not complain, he could do this all day if you’d let him. He’s unsure of how long you’ve been kissing him like this, so needy and whiny underneath him, but he doesn’t care. When he pulls away to catch his breath, your lips are slightly swollen, slick with saliva. Your face has flushed a bright red from the kiss, making you look cute despite being in such a lewd state. 

“God, you’re beautiful.” Dean mumbles, pupils blown wide as he stares down at you. 

You blush softly, but you try to hide it as just flushed cheeks. “Don’t get too sweet on me now.” You smile, tightening around his waist with your legs. 

“Right, right.” Dean smiles, fighting off a laugh when you reach to unbuckle his belt. He’s kicking the jeans off in record speed, you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him move that fast. He’s back with you just as fast. “Holy shit,” Dean mumbles, shaking as his cock slides in between  your folds, easily sliding with your slick. It’s so intimate that he’s unused to it, and there’s the smallest fear in his chest that he won’t last having you like this. “Fuck, pretty girl.” 

You whine as he pushes in, so slow that it makes you squirm underneath him. Bottoming out, he allows his head to fall forward, landing in the crook of your neck. “Dean,” 

“Just, fuck, give me a second.” 

“It’s okay,” You mumble, understanding his situation. While you’re understanding, you’re not forgiving as you clench around him like a vise. Your hands reach around, holding his back as you pull him close. You kiss along his skin, waiting until he calms down. 

Dean groans, unbelievable, it’s unbelievable how he’s stuck like this. “I can’t believe this shit,” Dean mumbles, drawing away from you to hook your legs over his elbows, folding you in half when he leans forward again. Finally having some sort of advantage, he’s able to target exactly where he needs to hit. “I feel like a fuckin teenager again.” 

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” You laugh, relishing in the moans that slip past his lips. Finally getting his wits about him, he’s able to finally move, grinding against you. Dean’s not going to last, he knows that, as he begins gently rubbing light circles into your clit. He’s gotta get some sort of leverage, something. Bending further forward, you’re covered entirely by his weight. When your lips gently connect with his, Dean thinks he could conquer the world. Kissing him so gently, so sweetly, has him absolutely reeling. 

“I love you,” Dean blurts, before he can even think to stop it. You don’t think he means it, not in any other way than being horny and worked up. “God, I fucking love you,” He mumbles again, shrugging your legs off of his arms in favour of caging you underneath him, head in between either of his arms as he kisses you. His hips don’t slow for a second, kissing you and chasing his high as if his life depends on it. He’s hitting your g-spot and grinding against your clit at the same time, kissing you as if he would die otherwise, and pressing all of his weight onto you. 

You can’t answer or speak, can’t tell him off for saying that shit mid-fuck. Maybe it’s the position that has him acting up, or it’s the softest he’s fucked in awhile and he doesn’t know how to behave. You’re pulling him closer by his back, kissing him back just as feverishly. 

“Cum for me pretty girl, please, need to feel you wrapped around me.” Dean moans, trailing a hand down in between your bodies. He’s on a mission, truly, needing to get you there before he can allow himself to. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock.” 

“Dean,” You whine, “Sensitive, ‘m sensitive.” You complain, overstimulated and worked up. 

“I know, I know. You’re doing so good for me, just one more. Come for me one more time, please. I need it, hm?” Dean pleads with you, “Doing so well for me, taking my cock so well.” Him talking you through it is almost all you need to tip over the edge, the smallest bit of stimulation you need. Throwing your head back, you can’t even look at him when you come undone. Dean kisses along your exposed neck, not leaving any marks for your own sake. 

“Please, please, Dean. Come, no more.” You whine, tightening around him from over-stimulation. You need him to cum, and have a break. You don’t have to tell him twice, hell, you don’t even have to tell him once. He’s been on edge since he brought you into his fucking room. His head is buried in your shoulder, and you whimper when he bites down into the skin. 

You’re so sore and over-stimulated, mumbling as his hips finally slow in their movement. “Y/n,” Dean is mumbling along with you, “Easy pretty girl, you’re okay,” He attempts to soothe you. “Listen, what I said.”

“Don’t do this Dean, it’s okay.” 

“I meant it, I mean it still.” Dean explains, carefully sliding out, careful to not accidentally stimulate you any further. You’re still caged underneath him, his arms around your head. 

“You don’t have to tell me that, it’s okay, really. Heat of the moment, or whatever.”

“Please, listen. I mean it.” He’s speaking so softly it’s genuinely been awhile since you’ve heard this tone, and it’s never been with you. With Sammy, likely. “I know you don’t believe me, and I wish I saved it for a more romantic moment, I do. But I do mean it.” 

“Is this what you say to every girl-”

“I haven’t been with anyone in forever, you know that. Getting a number is different, that’s just me trying to get information Y/N.” Dean speaks, pulling himself further off of you, giving you space. He’s reaching for his bag, trying to find something to cover you with. He finds a t-shirt, carefully putting it over your head. It goes down to your thighs, covering you. He’s snatching his boxers next, he’s gotta have some decency for this conversation. “I love you, Y/n. You don’t have to say it back, but you deserve to know the truth at least.” 

He’s fully prepared to be shut down, given your reaction thus far. You lean forward, and he thinks you’re about to climb away from him, move out of his bed. Your lips softly connect with his, the gentlest kiss. He’s smiling like an idiot into the kiss, almost unable to kiss you from the extent of his smile. “We can’t tell Sammy, he’ll think you’ve lost it.” Dean almost giggles at this, yes, giggles. What has gotten into him? What the actual hell is happening right now? Still, he nods along with you in agreement. 

“We can’t tell Sammy, or you don’t want to tell Sammy?” 

You’re rolling your eyes. “We don’t have to tell Sammy, he’ll know.” It’s the truth, he’ll figure it out before you or Dean even have a chance to tell him. Dean nods again, the faintest of smiles beginning to spread across his face again. It grows tenfold when you’re leaning forward, cupping his face in your palms, and once again kissing him. He’s shaking when you lean forward, forcing his back to hit the bed, your legs soon straddling his hips. You’re fully seated on his lap, legs underneath his body to give you more leverage to plant yourself against him. 

Your hands wrap around his head, pulling him into you. “Dean, say you love me again.” You mumble, diving back in to kiss him. He can barely mumble the words out, speaking with your lips on his the entire time. Not knowing it was possible, you’re kissing him harder. 

“Riling yourself up, pretty girl?” Dean chuckles softly, hands holding your waist snugly. His grip tightens when you grind against him, drawing out a strangled moan. Dean’s head falls back, face scrunching up. He can’t watch you grind against him in his t-shirt, he really can't. You’re so warm it makes him shake, completely bare as you grind against his boxers. You’re soaking through the cloth, he can feel it. He curses his old age in the back of his head, regretting he can’t recover as easily as he used to. You’re not too much younger than him, but it’s still making him frustrated as you’re ready for round 3. 

“Dean,” Your voice comes out as a whine, your body slumping forward as you curl into his warmth. Your hips continue to grind against his, lips running along his skin. You’re fighting off the urge to leave marks on his skin, losing yourself in the feeling of being close to him. 

“C’mon pretty girl, show me what you’re made of.” Dean’s already regretting his words. He knows you’re quite literally going to make him eat them. Your feet remain underneath his body, flexing as you seat yourself more heavily against him. Your hands move all over his body, finally stopping in his hair as you connect your lips with his. Deans losing his mind. He feels his thighs shake when you lift your weight up and reach down, pushing his boxers down past his hips. He assists you momentarily as he lifts both of your weight off the bed for easier removal. “Gonna make me regret my taunting?” 

“You know it.” You almost giggle, and it only solidifies his belief that he will, in fact, eat his words. You’re soaking wet as you make contact with him, easily sliding through your folds as you slowly and carefully rock your hips. Without warning, in one swift roll of your hips, he’s sheathed inside of you all the way to the hilt. 

“Fuck, fuck, goddamn it.” Dean’s head is thrown back against the pillow, muscles straining in his neck with the force he’s exerting. Your hips grind and roll against his, drawing the prettiest moans from yourself. Dean knew this was gonna happen, and yet he’s shocked that it is. “Should’ve, fuck, picked my words better.” 

Dean shuffles against the bed, sitting up so his back rests against the headboard. He easily pulls you along with him, hands securely holding you by the hips. He’s closer this way it feels like, can smell the sex and heat rolling off of your body. Your arms wrap around his head loosely, leaning down to connect your foreheads together. “Wanna cum like this Dean.” Your breath is basically a pant, grinding rougher as you chase whatever high you have left. 

“Do what you want, please, use me.” Dean’s losing it as he leans forward and marks your skin, too fucked out to even think about what he’s actually doing. You’re going to scold him for this later, something he’s almost sure of, but he can’t bring it in himself to care. You’re coming undone embarrassingly soon, clenched tightly around him as your thighs shake gently. Your hips never stop moving, riding out your high long past the comfortable point. “My girl, my good girl,” Dean is cooing, almost babbling when he watches you use him. 

He’s so overstimulated and so worked up it hurts, but he’ll grit his teeth and bare it if it means he gets to have you like this. You’re arguably more overstimulated than he is, legs shaking and small mewls or moans unconsciously slipping past your lips. He’s moving before you can react, your back hitting the bed. His hips pick up immediately where yours left off, pace barely faltering. You’re soaking wet, the sounds sending a shiver up his spine. “You’re so good to me, holy fuck, this is what I've been missing out on for years. Are you kidding me, fuck.” Dean groans, neck burying into your shoulder. 

“I just, fuck, haven’t been touched in awhile. Easily excitable,” You joke, legs moving to wrap around his torso. With the amount of effort it takes to whine that sentence out, he knows you’re lying. He huffs slightly in annoyance, a small smirk on his face at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation the two of you are in. 

“You’re so full of shit,” It’s gruff and harsh, his brows scrunching together with the effort he’s exerting. His abs have never been clenched harder in his life, torso rock solid from the over-stimulation and effort. “Even if you could quiet down and stop whining, you’d still give yourself away.” He teases you, and you know he’s right. “Wanna try it, hm pretty girl? Shhhh,” It’s gentle and soothing rather than rough, despite his situation. He gently shushes and coos to you, eventually getting your whining and moaning to mere pants. Like he said, you still give yourself away with the slick noises each time his hips roll into yours. “Do you fuckin hear yourself? Listen pretty girl, just listen.” 

You’re beyond fucked out, listening as Dean explains to you. Your lips are caught tightly in between your teeth, fighting hard to keep as quiet as you possibly can. Your head is thrown back against the bed, straining as your legs lock around his torso harder than before. “Dean,”

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay. I know, I know. You give yourself away, hm?” He mocks, hands coming to run along your thighs, squeezing the muscle underneath. “One more for me, just give me one more and I’ll clean you up all nice and gentle.” 

“I can’t-”

“Don’t be like that.” It’s soft, but just enough to be patronizing. 

“Please, let’s cum. Last one.” You whine, tightening almost impossibly around him. It’s hard to push in, so overworked and sensitive. Dean’s voice alone works you up more than you ever realized, and having him so close, talking in your ear like this. It’s bad news. Dean’s hips are stuttering as you wrap your legs tighter around his torso, working himself up now. The noises you’re making would be embarrassing if it wasn’t Dean, who’s so beyond into it. Maybe it’s the both of your instincts being heightened from years of fighting fuck knows what, but the front door opening has the both of you immediately stilling. 

Dean has never seen your eyes widen this much, almost comical as you look at him. There’s a wicked smile on his face as he shuffles his arms around, ever so gently placing his hand over your mouth. “Quiet, pretty girl.” Dean’s whispering in your ear, hips slowing just enough to grind into you, clit grinding against his skin. You’re fighting hard to keep quiet, opting to bite down on Dean’s hand instead. He’s hissing softly, repositioning so you bite into the side of his hand. 

“C’mon, give me some slack. Cum for me, please. I need to cum pretty girl, you’re gonna make me cum for you.” Dean swears your eyes are going to roll back and out of your skull and he’s going to be permanently like this with how you’re wrapped around him. Dean’s about to beg, he can feel the words on his tongue. Plead with you, even. His silent prayers are granted when your head throws itself back, your arms moving to wrap around his biceps. With the force you’re holding him, he thinks you’ll leave bruises. He’s following you soon after, hips faltering as he comes undone inside of you. Your legs lock around him and suddenly you’re a bodybuilder with the amount of strength you have. 

Your legs are securely locked, not allowing him to rock anymore, needing no more stimulation. Like you thought, you would be embarrassed with how wet you are if it wasn’t Dean who was the one making you sound like this. “The others are back, I have to go.” You whisper, immediately faltering when your weight settles on your legs. Your bottoms are put on with the help of Dean, who keeps you upright. Too fucked out, your legs are almost unusable as you wobble your way towards the door with bikini top in hand. You have to get going before everyone comes into the back of the house, that you know. 

“You can’t even walk straight.” Dean’s right behind you, trying to keep you up on your feet. He’s trying very hard not to laugh at your condition, but you can hear it in his voice. 

“We can’t scar Sam like this.” You’re trying hard not to giggle, slowly peeling open the door. Dean catches you before you can sprint away from him, yanking you back into his embrace. He's grinning down at you, lips softly pressing against yours. You're distracted, beginning to get lost in the kiss. Reminding you, Dean begins to peel the door open slightly. Once it’s open enough, you’re making a sprint for your room. You hear footsteps soon after you make it to your room, ear pressed against the door to listen. 

“Dean, do I wanna know why I just saw Y/N sprint across the hall in your tee shirt?” 

“No, no you do not.” 

The next case you work, Sam doesn’t mention a single thing. In fact, Sam doesn’t mention anything, ever, even the next morning when you’re awkwardly making coffee in the kitchen while he sits at the kitchen counter. Perhaps you should have asked how he felt about this before you went and created your master plan of you and Baby the other day. You’re sucking in your bottom lip as you’re thinking about how you’re going to bring this up, Dean out for the next half hour or so as he grabs food. 

“Sammy?” You mumble softly, placing a mug of black coffee on the table for him. He won’t drink it with cream or sugar anymore, neither does Dean. 

“Hm?” He asks absentmindedly, thumbing through the newspaper as he reads. He’s not listening to you, you know that. When he reads, he’s entirely immersed in the information he’s processing. He fumbled around for the coffee mug, and you slid it closer to where he’s smacking the table so he can actually find the handle. 

“It doesn’t bother you, right?” You ask softly, waiting for him to process what you asked after he finishes whatever sentence he’s currently on. You don’t have to specify, you already know he knows what you’re referring to. Finally, he breaks his focus from the paper to look at you since you’ve walked into the kitchen and started making coffee. (You don’t know it, but he looked at you to make sure you grabbed his mug as well.) 

He laughs, and for a second you’re disheartened. “Are you serious?” 

“I-what?” You don't know whether to be confused or offended. You were going to genuinely hear him out, but this is not the tone you were expecting. 

“You and Dean have been at each other’s throats since you met. I’m surprised you guys didn’t jump on each other sooner.” He laughs, sipping his coffee and shaking his head softly. He laughs at you more, “You think I would care about that? Oh my god, I’ve never seen Dean run out of the house faster this morning to get you food, wide eyed and bushy tail. I think he thought he was gonna surprise you with breakfast in bed.” 

“Fuck, should I go lay back down?” You genuinely wonder, making Sam laugh even harder. 

“You guys are ridiculous. You’re telling me this is the first time? I honestly thought you guys have been hate fucking since we met.” 

“Sammy, pleaseeeee.” You whine, tossing your head back. Sipping your coffee, you want to whine and pout. 

“No offense, but I don't care what the two of you guys get up to. As long as you’re happy and don’t die on a hunt because you’re distracted, it’s not a problem.” 

“Right, right. It won't interfere with hunting, I promise.” You nod your head to him, “But seriously, should I go get back into bed?” 

Sam laughs, shaking his head as he refocuses on the newspaper he’s reading. You don’t, because Dean’s walking into the door soon after your conversation with Dean. Making eye contact, his face falls completely and Sam was definitely correct with his guess of breakfast in bed. Regardless, Dean pretends he just got food and had no other motive. “Breakfast has arrived,” He announces, placing the bags on the table. “What, no coffee for me?!” 

“Oh come on, give me a break. You were nowhere in sight this morning.” You defend yourself, “Not even a BRB note, how was I supposed to know when you were coming back?” 

“Oh, but you’ll make Sammy one-”

“Sammy was sitting in here in the kitchen when I woke up-”

“In the mug you know I like-”

“What?! That’s his mug!”

“It totally isn’t! Just because he uses it more often than I do-”

“OKAY!” Sam interrupts, and he’s smiling like an idiot when you turn to look at him. Nothing has changed between you or Dean, and this just proves that. Sure, you’re eyeing him up like a starved woman, and Dean is trying hard to ignore you in your little pajamas, but nothing has changed between the two of you. “You guys gonna eat or fuck against the kitchen counter?” 

Both you and Dean groan in annoyance, sitting down at the table and rummaging through the bags. After breakfast, you guys go over the main points of the new case you’re working on. The drive makes you want to bash your face into Baby’s window over and over, and you can already feel the tiredness in your bones. You guys start the drive not long after, packing up everything and getting a jump start to the job. 7 hours in and Sam switches with Dean to drive, now in the passenger seat. 

You kick the seat when he leans it back and pins your legs to the backseat, “Don’t make me come back there!” He threatens, to which you stick your tongue out at him. Another seven hours in and you’re switching with Sam, who sleeps in the backseat. 

You and Dean talk in the front. “So, Sammy doesn’t care then?” Dean whispers, and you shake your head no. You’re whispering in an attempt to not disturb Sam, even though you think Sam could sleep through an earthquake. Giving him some type of courtesy, you try to keep the noise down to a minimum. 

“Sammy said he thought we had been, quote, hate fucking since we first met, end quote.” You giggle, glancing over at him with a sheepish smile. Dean is trying awfully hard not to howl laugh right now, and god is it hard. You giggle softly, shaking your head at him. 

“Well, in that case.” Dean shrugs, reaching over the front bench and grabbing the inside of your thigh as you drive. 

“Winchester.” You warn, genuinely warn, as your voice remains low and calm. 

“What? You said he doesn’t care.” Dean mumbles, chuckling softly. Glancing back into the back seat, Sam is passed out. He wouldn’t do that in front of Sammy, but he can push your buttons. Dean slides his hand closer to your hip, slipping down onto your inner thigh further. You give him no reaction, knowing the second you do it’ll only fuel the fire. Dean bites at his lips, trying extremely hard not to laugh at your resolute attitude. His fingers dip underneath the waistband of your shorts, making your hips jolt back into the bench. 

You’re grabbing his hand, ripping it backwards and twisting his arm. “Fuck, I love it when you’re rough with me.” Dean groans softly, a smile still playing on his features. “Okay, okay sweetheart, I hear you loud and clear.” He smiles, pulling his arm free and kissing your knuckles. 

You finally get to the motel after what feels like 2000 years, you driving the last leg of the trip. Sam shuffles into the motel without saying a word to either of you and Dean, still half asleep as he pushes into the room. He’s  falling into the bed and back asleep in no time, and you and Dean share a look. Dean has a soft chuckle, and you giggle when he slides his hand across your thigh, pulling you by your hips across the bench of Baby. 

“No, no, no pretty boy. You made me drive the shitty shift.” You mumble, shuffling so you’re pressed against him. He’s easily manipulated, allowing his body to fall back against the passenger side door. Your legs easily swing over his hips, settling down on his lap with ease. You hate driving at night, and he knows that. “And you’ve been teasing me for the past 20 miles. I’m gonna do what I want, and if you ask nice enough by the end of this, i’ll let you cum, hm?” 

Dean whimpers from underneath you, eyebrows knitting together as you speak to him however you like. When you slam your lips down onto his, he groans into it. You’re frustrated, and annoyed, and slightly angry but not exactly at him. You need an outlet, and Dean is a willing one. Your hips press heavily down into his, using your legs underneath him as leverage to seat yourself against him. Your hands are everywhere and anywhere, running all along his skin underneath his clothes. There’s a whimper that escapes him when you rip off your shirt, not allowing him the pleasure of doing so. 

“This isn’t fair-” You grip his face in between your hands, holding his chin. With the slight pressure, his lips pucker out slightly. You gently peck his lips like this, releasing some of the grip you have on his face. Dean’s hands land on your waist, gently brushing and rubbing along any exposed skin you’ll allow him. 

“Be good, Dean.” You mumble, “You’ll be good for me, hm?” You ask softly, picking your hips up enough to yank your shorts and underwear off in one swift movement. “Let me ride your fingers, baby, get me ready to take you.” You command, voice leaving zero room for disagreement. 

“Yes, yes,” He mumbles absentmindedly, hands shuffling to slip further down your hips. You hiss softly as he makes contact with your clit, well practiced and well trained at this point. He gently rubs along your clit, drawing soft, tight circles into the bud. There’s a small gasp as he slides a digit in, expertly curling and moving in the way he knows you like. You pant softly when your hips grind against him on their own, searching for any touch or stimulation he’ll allow you to have. You chase it like you need it to live, to breathe. And Dean chases the little whimpers and whines as if he’ll die without them. Another digit makes you slump down against him slightly, seeking his warmth and closeness, hips still moving against him. 

“My pretty boy Dean.” You whimper, mumbling partially against his lips as you talk. One of your hands rest behind his head, the other one running your fingers through his hair. Dean reels at the soft compliment, head pushing into your hand as he seeks for your touch. You’re using him like a goddamn toy, and he can’t help but twitch at the thought. He’d let you do anything, anything you ask if it’s from your pretty little mouth. You kiss him hungrily, breaking contact more often than he wants as you moan and pant against him. He seeks your kiss, neck craning up. 

Your hands sloppily fumble with his jean buttons, wanting them off right this second, losing your patience. You push them just below his hips, freeing his cock from his boxers. “Easy, pretty girl, you gotta let me make you cum first.” Dean mumbles, leaning forward to kiss your neck that is burning up. 

“Need you,”

“Need you to feel good, baby.” Dean mumbles, working more feverishly into you to push you past the edge. There’s a boost in his pride when you fall apart against him, arms locking around his head gently as you cum. 

“Dean, wanna fuck you. You gonna let me do that?” You mumble, carefully taking him in your hand. Dean hisses when he slips in between your folds, head thrown against baby for some sort of stability as he tries to compose himself. Cumming when she wants me too, he reminds himself. Your hands are gentle but firm, and dean’s more than aware you’re not giving up your current position on top of him. 

“Gonna let you do anything,” dean mumbles, picking his head up slightly as he watches you line his cock up. He fights to keep his head up, watching as you devour inch by inch of his length. You’re grinning wide when you catch him. 

“Gonna watch me take you? Gonna watch me fuck you, hm?” you pant softly against his lips, snapping your hips down against his. You grind and rub against his his pelvic bone, fully seated against him, tip of his cock rubbing against your cervix. Dean’s head falls back against the door, unable to watch. He can’t watch this without cumming earlier than your word. He groans when you hear the tsk sound as you kiss your teeth, whimpering when you pick his head up. 

“I’m trying to listen to you, don’t wanna cum early sweetheart.” Dean mumbles, biting hard onto his bottom lip. His eyes are half-lidded as he watches you take him, a shiver running up his spine as he tries not to think about anything for too long. You’re so tight, and wet, and just absolutely pulsing around him. He’s sure there’s a pile underneath him from how wet you are around him, his abs clenched harder than he thought possible as he fights off his orgasm. “God damn it, baby. You’re gonna fucking kill me.” he groans, reaching down and rubbing tight circles into your clit. The sharp gasp sends goosebumps up his arms, listening to your soft noises. 

“This is cheating Dean,” You moan, continuing to fuck yourself down onto him. 

“C'mon baby, lemme have it pretty girl,” Dean whimpers, doing his best to snap his hips up against you. Your weight jolts against him, allowing him more room to snap his hips up. He grins, as he finally has some advantage as he fucks into you. When you come undone, it’s shaky and messy, hips slamming down against Dean's to get the movement to stop. His hips continue to rut into you, milking the orgasm for as long as you’ll let him. 

“Being so good Dean,” You coo into his ear, your face burying itself into his neck. Dean's quite literally fraying at the edges trying to hold himself together. He could cry, eyes watering as he screws his eyes shut. 

“C'mon baby, cut me some slack,” He groans, sitting up abruptly to lean into your body. You squeal slightly at how quickly he jostles you around, your legs wrapping around his torso as he moves. 

“I like seeing you so pent up, ‘s cute,” You mumble, holding his head in your palms as you kiss him. Reaching around, you softly pull at his hair, scratching his head where you’re pulling. Your hips grind against him, doing more for you than him. Dean's hands grip your waist and thighs, moving you against him. 

“Wanna be good for you,” Dean groans, leaning forward to bite into your shoulder. 

You smile, holding him gently by his neck as you lean back, taking him with you. He’s groaning into your skin, head falling into your shoulder. “C'mon, want you to feel good,” You mumble, catching his lips gently when his head picks up to glance at you. 

“I do feel good. Feel good if you’re feeling good,” Dean grunts, hissing softly when you push his hips before pulling him back in with your heels. He almost wants to let you make him cum like this, but the shake in your thighs assured him you wouldn’t be able to. “My girl,” Dean moans softly, snapping his hips into you. Your soft mewls spur him on, groaning softly when your hands pull at his hair. Dean's losing it, moaning into the crook of your neck as he buries his face into your skin. 

His weight is pressed entirely against you, elbows digging into the seat on either side of you. You're whimpering in his ear, and he’s been holding off for what feels like years at this point. You pick his head up, pressing your lips to his. The both of you are moaning and panting so hard it’s difficult to kiss, riling yourselves up. “Feels good, Dean, do I make you feel good?” You pant against his lips, legs squeezing tighter around his waist. Your hands are all over him, touching any inch of skin you can, feeling every muscle flexing with the effort of his ministrations. “Talk to me Winchester, my pretty boy.” You moan, one particular thrust sending goosebumps across your skin. 

“I- fuck- can't.” Dean almost grunts, lips never leaving yours as he talks. “ ‘s too good, this pussy, fuck, made for me.” He groans, lips leaving yours to kiss along your cheek and jaw. Your hands settle on his biceps, trying hard to ground yourself here with him. “Never wanna leave it, never wanna leave you.” He groans, pulling you closer by the back of your neck to properly kiss you. “Fuck, please let me cum.”

You hadn’t realized he’d been waiting for you, a giant smile creeping over your face at how good he is. “Cum, Dean. Cum inside me, please, need it.” You mumble, grip tightening to hold yourself against him as he roughly fucks into you, chasing the high he’s been craving. You squeal and jerk under him as he bites into your shoulder, roughly laving over it with his tongue to relieve the pain. You squeeze tighter around him from it, making his hips falter in their place. You’re over-sensitive, beginning to squirm. “Cum, Dean, please, can’t take it.” You whine, tightening almost impossibly more. 

“Fuck, taking it so good. Just a bit more, be patient for me sweetheart.” Dean groans against your ear, thrusts becoming more erratic as he finally lets himself go. Your legs are practically numb as he buries himself to the hilt, cumming inside you. You complain softly as he lazily fucks his cum into you, enjoying the absolute mess you’re making underneath him. 

“Please-” You hiccup, pulling his hair softly. Dean slows, stilling as he kisses you properly for the first time in forever, no longer panting and moaning against you. You relish in it, not rushing as you kiss him back. 

“I think I’ll make you drive the shit shift more often.” He’s smiling, carefully getting you cleaned up. He’s proud of how fucked out you are, pride oozing from his demenor. You have the same pride, knowing the second he touches that motel bed he’ll be out for the night. 

You peck him quickly, not wanting to rile him up again. “Sure, but next time you wont cum.” You giggle, taking off before he has the wit to catch you and pin you to baby again. Running into the motel room where Sam is knocked out, you're in the shower before Dean can catch up to you. You hear a snarky remark from the other side of the door, making you giggle.

[theinstagrahame]

An old colleague at an old job was apparently taking creepy pictures of our female coworkers. I (who present masc, and identified as male at the time) just thought he was a cool guy, we had a lot in common. I loaned him a copy of one of my favorite books. I met his wife a couple of times, she was cool, and they seemed really into each other.

I left the job a little while after, but figured we'd cross paths again. We had a bunch of mutual coworkers and friends by then. I could get the book then.

I never got it back because he was arrested shortly afterward.

Later, I spoke with another coworker and friend, who felt bad that we were all duped, and thus couldn't help protect people we cared about. I told him that it was by design that we didn't know. Creeper put in a ton of effort to make sure he would be above suspicion, because he knew people around him wouldn't approve. He had to hide it, because nobody would support him, and that's kind of a good thing.

And like, that's how people like this operate. The niceness is part of the disguise. They cultivate these kinds of friendships like planting trees, so they've got shadows to hide in. Yeah, getting tricked sucks, but like, they are actually exploiting the part of you that wants to believe people can be nice.

As OP said, there weren't any red flags because we weren't the prey.

I don't want to live in a world where I distrust every person I meet, on the off chance they're also awful. But I do want to cultivate the kind of trust in people around me that they know I'll believe them if it turns out some nice guy is actually a raging asshole.

I want to step away from the art-vs-artist side of the Gaiman issue for a bit, and talk about, well, the rest of it. Because those emotions you're feeling would be the same without the art; the art just adds another layer.

Source: I worked with a guy who turned out to be heavily involved in an international, multi-state sex-slavery/trafficking ring.

He was really nice.

Yeah.

It hits like a dumptruck of shit. You don't feel stable in your world anymore. How could someone you interacted with, liked, also be a truly horrible person? How could your judgement be that bad? How can real people, not stylized cartoon bogeymen, be actually doing this shit?

You have to sit with the fact that you couldn't, or probably couldn't, have known. You should have no guilt as part of this horror — but guilt is almost certainly part of that mess you're feeling, because our brains do this associative thing, and somehow "I liked [the version of] the guy [that I knew]", or his creations, becomes "I made a horrible mistake and should feel guilty."

You didn't, loves, you didn't.

We're human, and we can only go by the information we have. And the information we have is only the smallest glimpse into someone else's life.

I didn't work closely with the guy I knew at work, but we chatted. He wasn't just nice; he was one of the only people outside my tiny department who seemed genuinely nice in a workplace that was rapidly becoming incredibly toxic. He loaned me a bike trainer. Occasionally he'd see me at the bus stop and give me a lift home.

Yup. I was a young woman in my twenties and rode in this guy's car. More than once.

When I tell this story that part usually makes people gasp. "You must feel so scared about what could have happened to you!" "You're so lucky nothing happened!"

No, that's not how it worked. I was never in danger. This guy targeted Korean women with little-to-no English who were coerced and powerless. A white, fluent, US citizen coworker wasn't a potential victim. I got to be a person, not prey.

Y'know that little warning bell that goes off, when you're around someone who might be a danger to you? That animal sense that says "Something is off here, watch out"?

Yeah, that doesn't ping if the preferred prey isn't around.

That's what rattled me the most about this. I liked to think of myself as willing to stand up for people with less power than me. I worked with Japanese exchange students in college and put myself bodily between them and creeps, and I sure as hell got that little alarm when some asian-schoolgirl fetishist schmoozed on them. But we were all there.

I had to learn that the alarm won't go off when the hunter isn't hunting. That it's not the solid indicator I might've thought it was. That sometimes this is what the privilege of not being prey does; it completely masks your ability to detect the horrors that are going on.

A lot of people point out that 'people like that' have amazing charisma and ability to lie and manipulate, and that's true. Anyone who's gotten away with this shit for decades is going to be way smoother than the pathetic little hangers-on I dealt with in university. But it's not just that. I seriously, deeply believe that he saw me as a person, and he did not extend personhood to his victims. We didn't have a fake coworker relationship. We had a real one. And just like I don't know the ins-and-outs of most of my coworkers lives, I had no idea that what he did on his down time was perpetrate horrors.

I know this is getting off the topic, but it's so very important. Especially as a message to cis guys: please understand that you won't recognize a creep the way you might think you will. If you're not the preferred prey, the hind-brain alarm won't go off. You have to listen to victims, not your gut feeling that the person seems perfectly nice and normal. It doesn't mean there's never a false accusation, but face the fact that it's usually real, and you don't have enough information to say otherwise.

So, yeah. It fucking sucks. Writing about this twists my insides into tense knots, and it was almost a decade ago. I was never in danger. No one I knew was hurt!

Just countless, powerless women, horrifically abused by someone who was nice to me.

You don't trust your own judgement quite the same way, after. And as utterly shitty as it is, as twisted up and unstead-in-the-world as I felt the day I found out — I don't actually think that's a bad thing.

I think we all need to question our own judgement. It makes us better people.

I don't see villains around every corner just because I knew one, once. But I do own the fact that I can't know, really know, about anyone except those closest to me. They have their own full lives. They'll go from the pinnacles of kindness to the depths of depravity — and I won't know.

It's not a failing. It's just being human. Something to remember before you slap labels on people, before you condemn them or idolize them. Think about how much you can't know, and how flawed our judgement always is.

Grieve for victims, and the feeling of betrayal. But maybe let yourself off the hook, and be a bit slower to skewer others on it.

[wcnderlnds]

home sweet home | choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

・❥・ summary: after his big interview, you go over to make sure he's okay and there's a shift in the friendship. ・❥・word count: 941 ・❥・warnings: none! oh, except for kissing, i guess. ・❥・ authors note: ok im nervous about this one. i havent wrote fics for musicians, etc. in years so we'll see how it goes but im so down bad for this man

Each glance at the clock made your heart beat just a little faster, the hours ticking by slowly. If you were nervous then you couldn’t even imagine how he felt. His first interview in years — it had to be the most daunting experience to put himself back into the spotlight like that. Your foot tapped against the floor of your apartment as you waited for the clock to hit 3PM. That was the time you’d told him you’d go over to his place to check on him. His interview would’ve been over by then and it gave him some time to process things on his own. Most of the time Seung-hyun liked to isolate himself but if there was one person in the world that he’d let see him at his most vulnerable, it was you. Not like he had a choice anyway. Whether he wanted it or not, you were always checking on him. He was your nearest and dearest friend so you couldn’t let him face his demons on his own.

Seung-hyun appreciated it more than he would ever be able to explain to you. As of now, you were the only person he hadn’t shut out — his guiding light in the darkness of his life for the past few years. You were a big reason why he thought more positively these days, why he even had the courage to pick himself up and get back out into the world.

Finally, 3PM came and without hesitation, you made your way over to his place. As you raised your fist to knock, the door pulled open. There he stood, a smile on his face as his dark, floppy hair got in the way of his glasses. He pushed his hair back as you stepped inside. It really was a crime how this man could look so good at any given time. He really had been blessed with amazing genes. His hair with no product in, the glasses framing his face and the comfortable hoodie he was wearing made your heart almost skip a beat.

“How’d it go?” You asked as you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug.

“Okay,” he replied, his arms wrapping around you, holding you against his chest. “Scary but I did it and that’s the main thing. It’s long overdue.”

“I’m so proud of you,” you smiled. As you pulled back, you let your arms rest on his forearms, gazing up into his gorgeous dark eyes. “Baby steps, yeah? Go at your own pace. But, for now, let’s eat and you can tell me all about it.”

The dinner was spent with you both laughing, him telling stories of how the interview went, you telling him about your day — he was always so willing to listen to every word you said. The way he looked at you paired with the way he was always so attentive was any person’s dream. Seung-hyun was a catch; anyone with eyes could see that. Yours had been closed for so long but now? You were starting to realise that maybe, just maybe, what you both needed had been right in front of you this whole time.

As the two of you stood in the kitchen clearing up, you ran a plate under the sink, rinsing off the debris so you could put it in the dishwasher. Spinning around, you came face to chest with Seung-hyun who had been standing behind you placing something in the cabinet above your head. You gulped at the proximity, his fingers sliding over yours as he took the plate from your hand. It was only brief contact but it was enough to make your heart speed up.

“Here, let me do that,” he said quietly, his deep voice like music to your ears. It took him all of two seconds to reach over, bend down and place it in the dishwasher before he was back facing you. 

“Thank you,” your voice was soft, eyes locking with his as you glanced up.

Seung-hyun gently tucked a stray piece of your hair behind your ear, his fingers skimming your cheek as he pulled back. Your breath caught in your throat. It was like time had frozen still for a moment — nothing but you and your best friend locked in this monumental piece of time where you realised this was more than friendship. Maybe it always had been. Your heart had just finally decided to catch up and realise it. From the moment you had met this amazing, incredible man, he’d had a piece of your heart. All you ever wanted to do was protect him, care for him like he deserved. The world had been cruel to him but you’d make sure that nothing would be again.

It was as if he was reading your mind, his hand cupping your cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing the soft skin of your cheek. Who was going to be the first to make a move? Was it worth risking the friendship? It seemed like it to Seung-hyun as he leaned forward and ever so gently pressed his lips to yours, eyes fluttering shut. Your hands rested on his chest, lips moving together in perfect sync. Like two puzzle pieces finally coming together. You could feel him smiling against your lips, pulling back ever so slightly. Your lips parted, chest rising and falling with each breath. 

“Can I do that again?” He asked almost breathlessly. 

You didn’t even say a word instead placing your hand at the back of his neck and pulling him back down to your lips. Yeah, there was definitely no going back now.

[fictionalsweethearts]

THE COMMISSION - EPILOGUE | SEVIKA X READER | ARCANE

'The Commission' series: pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, epilogue.

Synopsis: You've been her personal mechanic for two years, but your growing reputation in the field has earned you dozens of clients and commissions. Sevika was looking for something fresh, durable and of good quality, and when it came to her sexual appetite, she only accepted the best. So she turned to you for a special commission.

Contains: arcane!sevika, feminine reader, lesbians, lots of dialogues, arcane universe, cannon sevika, mechanic!reader, wlw, slow burn BURNING

If you're underage, be responsible and don't consume smut content. GO AWAY AND BUILD A MOTHERFUCKING SAND CASTLE, THANK YOU.

Word count: 5,217 (yeah, things ALSO happen in this chapter)

Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistake in my writing. Enjoy!

Sevika has always been a woman who foresees situations, analyzes people, studies patterns, assumes decisions, all as a mechanism of defense to the unpredictable of her childhood and the constant reproaches of her father for not having "been ahead of the facts." However, and as much as she thought she knew everything about you, Sevika never thought she would end the year with her lying in her bed, watching you fix her mechanical arm in with only your panties on after an entire afternoon of naps and cuddles.

The room smelled of tobacco and candle oil, which formed warm shadows on the wall while Zaun's nocturnal murmur sneaked through the window, giving a cozy and certainly sensual touch to the room. Sevika found a shelter between the sheets of her bed and between your legs, on your vast chest and your fingers interlaced on her hair. As soon as she set foot at home, she allowed herself to detach herself from the impenetrable facade and stop pretending that the whole world depended on her, because soon enough she would look for you in the living room and strip off of her cape and surround you with her arms and nuzzle in your neck.

"Bad day?"

"Shitty." She would mumble. "Silco's testing my patience again."

"What do you need?"

"Silence..." she said. "And a hot bad."

"I'll get it ready." you whispered, knowing Sevika would pull you back if you dared to leave her arms right now.

She tightened her grip around you, letting out a grunt. "Not yet." She whispered.

"You always keep up with too much, Sev." You said, pulling back just enough to catch a glimpse of her gloomy expression.

"Someone has to," she muttered, her voice muffled. "The idiots down in the fissures would be lost without me."

"You have to stop taking responsibility for everybody's mistakes." You insisted. "It's burning you out."

"It's my position."

"Then your position is unfair." You insisted, letting out a sigh. "Alright, enough. You're at home now."

No business talk at home. It was a rule you'd set up early on, an agreement that when she was with you, she needed to let go of the stress and responsibilities of her role in order to not disturb the only place she felt safe in.

"...fine."

"Good." You said, placing a kiss on her cheek. "Long day, you need to unwind a bit." You added, before Sevika pulled you for a well deserved kiss.

You closed your eyes, tasting the kiss as your hands ran over her vast back, the leather of her vest and the metal of her left arm, daring to disable Shimmer's passage with a small button you placed at shoulder height.

"What are you…?

"You don't need to use it at home." you whispered.

She wanted to protest, but soon her expression softened, the tension in her muscles lessening. "No business at home," she repeated your earlier words. "And no Shimmer."

"You remembered." you smiled, leaning to kiss her again as Sevika trapped your waist with her flesh arm. Slowly her kiss intensified, shedding the stress of the day and focusing on what you had to offer her. Then, you began to push her towards the desk until the back of her thighs met the edge and you settled between her legs.

"I've never seen you like this..." she whispered, her voice filled with a note of awe. "What's gotten into you, pretty girl?"

Her grip on the desk tightened as your hands caressed her thighs, feeling the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her trousers. You leaned down to pepper kisses along her neck and jaw, your hand moving down her chest and squeezing one of her breasts between your fingers. "I'm doing my job."

It didn't take you more than ten seconds to make it clear to her that you weren't playing around. You had already unbuttoned her vest, one hand firmly on her tit as you kissed her mouth and pushed yourself between her legs. Only then, and with some impatience, you stepped back to begin unbuckling her belt.

"Baby-"

"Shh... It'll feel good, I promise." you whispered against her lips, which Sevika grunted.

Sevika frowned, studying this unexpectedly direct and assertive side of you. The first few times you slept together, you allowed Sevika to take control, knowing she was far more experienced in bed than you, allowing yourself to be explored and tasted as much as she wanted. But tonight Sevika deserved to be the one explored and you were willing to use as many tricks as she had been able to teach you in those endless nights on bed and quickies in the kitchen.

Sevika caressed the back of your neck, lifting her hips as you slid her pants and underwear off, letting you take over. Her heart was pounding in her throat, watching you kneel before her and place kisses on the inside of her thighs.

"Uh, fuck." she breathed out when you dive into her pussy with a long and gentle lap. Her head fell back, her flesh hand burying on your hair as she couldn't control such natural reaction.

Sevika liked giving better, rather than receiving. She loved the idea of ​​giving someone else those thrills of pleasure, of hearing them moan and sigh, their legs closing around her head in search of more contact. But being the one on the receiving end felt a world of difference.

Her legs on your shoulders, you were dipping into the wetness of her pussy as you kissed and licked her folds, sucking her clit softly, just to glance at her briefly from time to time. You could see her abdomen tightening, her chest rising with each breath, and the chiseled line of her neck and jaw. You moaned, not just from feeling in control, but from finally allowing yourself to explore her. She tasted so good. Her wetness smearing your chin, the curls of her pubic hair against your nose, her musky smell filling your nostrils and making you hiss.

She was the whole damn meal.

Sevika growled, gripping the edge of the desk with her flesh hand, her fingers clenching and loosening in time with each lap and kiss. You were shamelessly slurping, sucking and kissing, and if you had just bit more of boldness, you would've spit on it just to piss her off.

"Yeah, good..." she growled, looking down at you. "Feast on it, pretty girl."

Her legs trembled, you caught a hint of a whimper coming out her mouth as you dug just a bit more into her pussy, gripping her thights apart. You didn't realize she came, an orgasm almost imperceptible until a guttural moan escaped her throat and she suddenly pulled your hair and brought you for a kiss.

"You're getting too bold." she said in a ragged whisper.

Your breath trembled, your act of daring ended as soon as Sevika claimed her position back with that phrase. Then she sighed, cupping your cheek.

"You..." she whispered, her voice hoarse. "You never cease to surprise me." She leaned in, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. "You did good, pretty girl. Really good."

The taste of recognition filled your mouth and made your stomach flutter. Nothing tasted as good as Sevika's praises. Absolutely nothing. "You said something about a bath...?" she asked then, as you stepped back.

"Yeah, yeah." You nodded. "I'll get it ready right away."

Sevika leaned back against the desk, her breath still coming in soft pants as she watched you move away. Her body was boneless, relaxed from the release you had given her, and there was a hint of a smile on her lips. Just when you left the room, she admitted how damn weak she ended up. Her legs were fucking limp.

"This goddamn girl." She muttered.

"How did this happen?" you asked, focused on the mechanical arm's malfunctions. "The joints are broken, the shimmer compartment burnt. Did you get into a fight with a damn lion or what?"

Sevika sighed, tucking an arm under her head as she watched you fix the piece from the bed. For the past ten minutes she was unable to think of anything other than your slim back and the softness of your ass. Repairing her arm half naked was quite the way to end the day.

"A fight with a lion would have been less troublesome," she finally replied, her voice a bit strained.

"So...?"

Sevika shifted, propping herself up on her elbow to watch you work. "So," she began, a bit reluctantly. "There was a bit of a disagreement with Jinx."

She grimaced, remembering the encounter. "She rigged one of her bombs to explode when I wasn't looking. Caught me by surprise, blew up my goddamn arm."

You suddenly threw down your tools, turning around with anger showing on your face. "She what?" you spat.

"Easy, easy." she said, her voice gentle yet firm. She held up her flesh arm, as if trying to placate you. "It's not as bad as it sounds. I've had my arm blown off before, remember?"

"She could've killed you!" you barked.

"I'm tougher than I look," she said, a hint of a smile on her lips. "And I doubt Jinx was actively trying to kill me. She just enjoys causing chaos."

"I don't give a damn if she's into causing chaos and shit, she'll end up killing someone." you stated, standing up. "What caused her a fit of madness this time? Silco didn't comply to one of her stupid whims?"

She groaned. "It's Jinx," she said, as if that explained everything. "The little gremlin's always been unpredictable. And Silco... Well, he's learned not to get in her way when she's in the middle of one of her episodes."

She leaned back. "I can handle her, baby, don't sweat it."

"She's a goddamn lose cannon." you hissed. "And you're fine with it? Don't be stupid."

Sevika's expression darkened at your harsh words. "I'm not stupid." she snapped, her own temper flaring momentarily. "And I have my reasons for tolerating Jinx's antics."

She took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "The undercity is a chaotic place, and the people here aren't exactly peaceful. Jinx... She's one of our own. She's a loose cannon, yes, but she's also a weapon we can use."

"An unpredictable weapon, you could say." you crossed your arms. "It's your mechanic arm today, but tomorrow could be the flesh one. You've lost your arm for the cause, there's no need to lose another, Sevika."

"I don't need you hovering over me like a mother hen," she snapped. "I can handle myself. I've been doing this long before you came along, and I'll be doing it long after you're gone."

You flinched over her distant tone, but you stood your ground again. "That's where you're wrong." you stated. "Cause I won't be gone, ever."

Sevika tilted her head, the bedsprings creaking under her weight as she sat up. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she said finally.

"And don't promise Jinx won't blow on your face if you can't keep it." you stated.

Sevika sighed, reaching out for the glass of liquor on her bedside table. "Always using my words against me."

"I'm being frank." you said, your eyes flickering to the arm on the desk. "Your arm is ruined, I need to take it to the workshop. So don't expect to have it back soon."

“You—.” she started to protest, her temper flaring once more. “You’re not taking my arm. I need it.”

"You want a piece of junk for arm, then?" You inquired.

God, she was nearly losing it tonight.

“Fine,” she grumbled, reluctantly admitting defeat. “Take it to the workshop, then. But I better get it back in perfect condition, you hear me?”

"So you're threatening me now?"

Sevika slammed the glass on the table.

"I’m not threatening you.” she grumbled. "I’m just making it clear that I expect my arm back in pristine condition. I don’t have time to deal with any subpar repairs."

"When have I ever done it wrong, Sevika?" you said, turning to look for your shirt somewhere in the room. Being naked in an argument was not pleasant and Sevika let out a huff after your breasts weren't on sight anymore.

"Never." She admitted gruffly. "Your work is impeccable."

"Then don't doubt me," you stated, pulling on your pants before borrowing one of Sevika's cigarettes. You searched for your jacket on the coat rack.

Sevika sighed, realizing you were getting ready to leave. She wasn't stopping you, though, you no longer needed vigilance since your recovery developed smoothly. "Where are you going?" She asked.

"I have work to do at the workshop." you mumbled, picking your toolbox and Sevika's prostetic arm. "Don't wait for me, you need to sleep."

She hummed. "Be back before sunrise, got it? I don't want you out and late at night."

"Sure, ma'am."

"Don't 'ma'am' me." She spat. "Just… be careful, alright? This city isn’t safe at night. Even the shadows have teeth."

"And you're the teeth." You smirked, before Sevika groaned and reached out to pull you by the arm.

"One more funny reply and you're not leaving the apartment." She snapped at you.

You raised an eyebrow, like an insolent teenager who was beginning to question the authority of her parents. Sevika didn't scare you, she stopped doing so a long time ago, and certainly after having her trembling with your head between her legs, she didn't manage to intimidate you. "I hear." you nodded.

Sevika watched you leave, her eyes trailing after you with a mixture of frustration and desire. She couldn’t decide whether she wanted to strangle you or kiss you. As the door shut behind you, she let out a low grumble and took a deep drag from her cigarette. "Stubborn little shit…" she muttered, a small smirk playing at her lips.

Rumors flew as fast through the streets of Zaun as the Shimmer. It took no more than four hours to hear that Silco's daughter had appeared in the Last Drop like a scolded puppy, strangely docile without knowing when or who caused it. But the truth is that Jinx showed up at Sevika's office and apologized to Sevika for the bomb accident, placing a new, optimized mechanical arm on the table, wrapped in a gift ribbon.

Sevika could only attribute it to you.

What the hell did you do?

Sevika walked through the dimly lit corridors of The Last Drop, her eyes watchful and searching. She was looking for only one person - you.

When she finally found you in the repair shop, her footsteps halted. “Have a moment?” she asked, her voice gruff.

You dragged on your cigarette, turning around as you removed your goggles from your eyes and raised an eyebrow. You didn’t even bother to get up from the stool, your expression impassive, almost disinterested. "I'm busy."

Sevika's jaw tightened at your dismissive tone. It was infuriating how you could look so utterly disinterested, when you had her wrapped around your little finger. She stalked closer, her muscles tensing in irritation. "I didn’t ask if you were busy. I said I need to speak with you."

You placed the cauterizer on the table and Sevika leaned against a nearby workbench, arms crossed underneath her poncho. "Care to tell me what you did to Jinx?" she asked.

"Uh... nothing?" you asked. "Why would I have anything to do with her?"

"Don't play coy with me." she growled. "The girl suddenly shows up, apologizing and dropping off a new arm? That’s not her style. You’ve been meddling again, haven’t you?"

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Did she apologize?" you inquired.

"Yes, she did apologize. She even wrapped the damn arm in a gift ribbon. It's the most polite I've ever seen her be."

You dragged out your cigarette, making the ash flutter into the ashtray, a cup. “Jinx is so much more than a crazy girl, she’s talented,” you said. “I thought she could make up for her damn mistake by making you a new arm.”

"And you thought that by... what? Whispering a few pretty words in her ear, you could get her to make me a new arm?" she questioned, disbelief coloring her tone.

"Nothing a couple of threats and some good rhetoric can't fix," you said smugly, before Sevika slammed her fist on the table.

"You threatened Jinx?" she demanded, her eyes burning with anger. "Are you out of your damn mind? She's unpredictable, dangerous and—"

"She messed with you," you interrupted her. "And since you're not going to fight back, do you think I'm going to sit back and watch that, Sevika?"

"It's not your place to handle Jinx, that's my business. Stay out of it."

You sighed, taking a look at this colorful and flashy new arm of Sevika Jinx knew how to add her touch to the piece, from the colors, the slot machine aesthetic, and the claw where the hand should be. "Did you like it?" you asked, more softly this time.

She reached out slowly, her fingers tracing over the metal and the claw. "It's… adequate." she grunted.

"Good." you smiled. "I'm glad I trusted her that."

As soon as the problem seemed to be fixed, you turned your attention to the piece you were currently working on. Sevika let out a groan, realizing you got away with it again.

Why on Earth I fell for this woman? I have enough trouble on my own.

Sevika leaned against the workbench, her eyes glued to you as you hummed a soft tune, completely absorbed in your work. It was infuriating. As soon as Sevika started looking around, her eyes fell on Shimmer's strap-on resting on the table. She had to look at it twice to realize it was the one she asked you to make four months ago. Sevika thought she had lost it; in the brothel, people tend to take things that aren't theirs.

"I thought I lost that thing," she grumbled, picking it up to examine it.

"That?" you asked, your eyes flickering to the strap. "Hell no, I spent fifty-six hours on that thing."

"What on earth took so damn long?"

"The Shimmer system; quite a challenge." you said.

At that moment, you couldn't help but look at her. A question had been floating around in your head ever since the day you handed Sevika her commission. "Did you like it?" you asked. "Did it feel good to wear?"

Sevika huffed, toying with the strap on her hand before she smirked. "Honestly, girl? It's been the best thing I've ever wore."

You smiled subtly, your attention shifting to your tools even though the tingle of satisfaction remained in your stomach. “How are the commissions going?” asked Sevika.

“Too many for so few hands and hours of sleep.” you pointed out, smiling as Sevika’s expression hardened. “I won’t use Shimmer, calm down.”

"Good," she said gruffly, leaning against the table closer to you. "You better not, or I'll kick your ass."

Despite having arrived angry, your proximity had weakened her temper. Your scent, the heat of your body, it was driving her mad. She had a strong desire to grab you, pull you close, and kiss you senselessly.

"So..." you said. "You came here to call me out for messing with Jinx or just to check how am I doing?"

"Both," she grumbled, her arms still crossed, her eyes flickering down to your lips. “You’ve been sticking your nose where it doesn't belong... again.”

"Where should I stick it in, then?" you teased her.

"Not in my business, to start." she grumbled, uncrossing her arms as she stepped closer.

Before you could even respond, Sevika grabbed you by the waist and roughly pulled you into a searing kiss. Her pent-up frustration and need for you had finally boiled over, and she couldn't deny herself any longer. You whimpered, barely adjusting to the kiss before Sevika dragged whatever you had onto the workbench and pinned you against the surface. “Hey, watch my stuff!”

"Shut up," she growled against your mouth. "I’ll buy you more tools."

Shit, she's mad.

"Sev... the door..." you panted between kisses, already spreading your legs so she could settle between them. Her intensity did not give rise to protests.

"Anyone who dares to enter will lose their eyes," she grunted, bringing your leg around her waist.

Sevika didn't let you process every kiss and bite she placed on your skin, she was unleashed by frustration and desire. You cupped her neck and sighed, her lips on your neck, her right hand wandering over your breasts and abdomen. You reached for her vest, unbuttoning it as you kissed her vehemently. The sound of her vest hitting the floor echoed through the room, as did your gasps and sighs.

You just hoped that no one had to lose their eyes that night.

You sat up, catching one of her breasts between your lips as Sevika hissed, her hand playing with your bare thighs before she felt the urge to pull that denim skirt off you. Sevika was in no mood for foreplay, her patience already exhausted and she had no intention of saving any more for you after you had challenged her authority by messing with Jinx. She growled, undoing the clasp of your skirt and sliding it down your legs until it ended up on the workshop floor.

"One of these days, you won't get a kiss but your ass whipped instead." she grumbled.

And then, you moaned over her hand sneaking into your panties, rubbing your wet pussy with unexpectly gentle fingers. Her weight pressed against you, her mouth hovering over yours accompanied by soft pants.

"A kiss or two and you're all wet for me."

"I was jerking off before you came in." you lied with that insolent smile of yours.

"Thinking about me, I suppose."

Her fingers continued to rub you, her mouth stealing any protests you might have had. She loved how you came undone under her touch, how she could make you moan and gasp.

You couldn't help but chuckle, Sevika looked fed up with your crude humor, but she didn't complain either. You watched her spread kisses down your stomach, your hip, the inside of your thighs, like a lioness coming closer to its prey, before pulling aside the fabric of your panties and giving you a shameless lick.

"Mhm... shit..." you gasped.

You covered your mouth, your gasps coming out of your nose as you tried to silence Sevika’s slurping by turning on the milling machine, which was particularly loud when it first started. By then, Sevika was having a feast between your legs, her lips sucking and kissing, licking at the wetness that was pouring out of you like a waterfall.

“Fuck.” you hissed, your hand reaching for her hair.

You still hadn't gotten used to Sevika's rhythm, she ate you out like you were her last meal, not caring about getting your slick all over her nose and chin, or the way you rubbed against her mouth to get more contact. A good dish is best enjoyed with all the senses, regardless of getting dirty in the process.

She enjoyed knowing that you liked it, that she was able to draw whimpers from your throat and break your insolent demeanor. After a while, your legs seemed to tremble and Sevika pulled away with a loud inhale, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Why did you...?" you managed to gasp before noticing that Sevika was staring at the strap-on sitting on the next workbench.

Oh, shit.

"Turn around." she commanded, her voice low and husky with desire.

"Sev-"

"Baby, trust me." she whispered, her hand cupping your cheek. "I'll be gentle."

"If someone enters..." you panted.

"No one will enter. They're all too goddamn scared of me." she replied, her hand gently grabbing your hips and guiding you to face away from her.

You could barely handle the adrenaline, your whole body seemed to be electrified, your chest against the table as soon as you bent over, raising your hips. It was happening and you were absolutely thrilled. You felt a kiss on your shoulder, you trembled when you perceived Sevika's figure behind you before a wave of anxiety crossed your body.

You've made plenty of them, but you never had tried a strap-on.

Sevika gasped then, the Shimmer compartment connecting to the matrix in her arm and thus to her system. That current of Shimmer through her veins tickled her and tinted her eyes slightly purple. Sevika saw how tense you were, and it was making her heart ache. She wanted you to enjoy this, to experience the same pleasure she had felt when she used it on Robin. So, she let her lips wander over your shoulder, down your back, as she moved her body closer to yours. Her chest pressed against you, her fingers caressing your hips.

"Don't be nervous," she whispered, her breath hot against your ear. "I've got you."

You held on to the table, Sevika giving you kisses on the back of your neck while sliding the strap between your folds, back and forward, gently stimulating you. "You made it, remember? Don't you trust your work?"

You moaned softly. "I didn't think you were going to use it on me."

Sevika held your hip. "I trust your work. Trust me too."

Suddenly you felt her slide inside you, inch by inch your lips parted and you let out a muffled moan, silenced by Sevika's kisses on your neck. Your insides opened for her, contracting around the phallus with ease, ready to take her whole. "Breathe…" she whispered.

You gasped, holding onto the edge of the table as Sevika began to thrust gently, methodically and deeply, feeling her tits press against your back, your own against the surface of the workbench. The weight of both of you made the wood creak.

Frankly, if the table broke, Sevika wouldn't give a damn.

"You're doing so well…" she whispered. "I knew you would."

You straightened up, Sevika wrapping an arm around your chest as she increased the speed of her thrusts, allowing yourself to moan louder, showing her that deep inside your body was tickling with her presence, your core had a pulse of its own. "It feels... good..."

"It'll feel better, baby, keep up with me." she growled, wrapping her bicep around your throat as she dared to slam her hips harder this time. And you whimpered.

You created that strap, you spent hours sitting at that very same workbench, trial and error to achieve a unique piece capable of pleasing Sevika and her exquisite requirements. You designed it, you took the mold in her presence, you spent sleepless nights and woke up to continue working on it. And now Sevika was allowing you to try the fruit of your labor for yourself, and damn… it was wonderful.

Sevika fucked you without pause or hesitation, methodically as if it were a task that must be done conscientiously. She squeezed your breasts, licked your ear and rubbed your clitoris with her flesh hand, making you tremble and shudder. By then, you were dizzy and extremely sensitive, Sevika could not bear to fuck you without seeing your expression twist in pleasure.

So, she quickly pulled out and turned you over, her hands grabbing your hips and lifting you onto the table, sitting you down on the edge.

"Look at me." she gasped, kissing you at the same time she slide into you. You moaned into her mouth, an arm around her neck as you caught a glimpse of her purple eyes. "Fuck, you're so pretty."

"You're so high..." you panted.

"This is the closest you'll ever be to Shimmer again." she smiled, fucking you relentlessly.

Each thrust was a dose of Shimmer, each thrust shook her entire body and sent shivers down to her core. It was addictive and mesmerizing at the same time, she couldn't get enough of how good it felt. "Oh fuck… you feel so good." she whimpered.

"Mhm, Sev..." you moaned sweetly. "Harder."

The Shimmer didn't just heighten the sensations, it inhibited the shame and brought the emotions to the surface. That's why you weren't impressed when Sevika began to pour her heart out on the act.

"I don't deserve you..." she muttered, her tone weaker than she intended to. You cupped her cheek.

"Bullshit."

"If you dare to leave me, there will be nothing left of me," she confessed, a hand on your cheek and your foreheads met. Your breaths mingled together.

"I ain't leaving."

Sevika whimpered, the scars on her left cheek glistening, her eyes seeming to sparkle and then you realized the Shimmer was taking its toll on her. "Sev, take it off." you begged, but she lunged at you, her hips never stopping. "Sev!" you insisted, even though you were reaching your peak yourself.

"I can't..." she gasped, before she placed a weak kiss on your lips. "I love you."

"You lo- Ah, ah fuck...!" you couldn't contain yourself, the sudden orgasm knocking you down like a wave before you fell back on the workbench.

And your body went numb, the sound of the machine accompanying your and Sevika's gasps, until you heard her curse and throw the strap on the table. Sevika's voice was hoarse, almost like she was choking back tears, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. The adrenaline, the Shimmer, the revelation of her feelings - it was all coursing through her, leaving her vulnerable and unsure of how to react.

You took a deep breath, rolling over to look at Sevika and notice the way she was shaking. You propped yourself on your elbow, reaching out to her. "I told you not to overuse it."

"I know..." she sighed, sitting on the edge of the table as you wrapped your arms around her. Your stomach fluttered, you inhaled her scent as if it were a fragrance you were trying to decipher, when in reality what you wanted to decipher were the words she said earlier.

All these years, this insolence and boldness just to get here. You had no regets.

"I love you too, Sev." you said softly then, every word rolling on your tongue.

She was quiet, her eyes fixed on yours as she took in what you had just said. "I know," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "And that terrifies me."

"I should be terrified of you." you smiled, noticing the way Sevika's eyes softened. You've never seen her like that. "But ever since I met you, I knew fear won't lead me nowhere."

"Most people are smart enough to stay away from me," she pointed out, her gaze dropping to the floor, before she grabbed your hand with her flesh one. "You're not smart."

You chuckled. "No, I'm not."

But Sevika knew well that no fool could get under her skin like you did; even if you had been a street rat, a Shimmer junkie and her personal mechanic.

She just hoped to call you wife one day.

The end.

taglist: @lez-zuha @amoraeu @nikaachuuuu @furrytaesss @elliecoochieeater @n-noctiss @emmanetalias @sevikashairbrush @lipglosskxsses @chaosfieldflower @kairuvhen @moodient @izzy120 @bonemarrowstew @abbysunderwear @batman-2 @karmalovessimonriley @fandomsinthegalaxies @fudosl @femme-historian @poprostuhybryda-blog @kifuqe @xblinkx2 @tamikahoshiko @lia-winther @https-mika @armeenix @bambishaven @xblinkx2 @luvg1s3l1e @dopemusiccowboy @imheadintothemountains @lilithyys @soullessbody @lavendersgirl @lovesickdreamer @makaylaislovely @demonofpuns @celestialst4r @ilovehotd @emmanetalias @bethany-l87 @marah280 @srtuna @jannesyjane @victoriaanne9 @rottngrl3 @depressedqueersocialists @slut4sevika @fragilsnoopy @stmvivs @sillystarv @vyvvycg @sapphicsontop @mixtape003 @blackqueengold @thesameoldboo

So, yeah, this fic is done. Do you know how much I enjoyed writing it? I really had a great time, even more so seeing your comments.

Girls, it's been an honor to have entertained you, I'll keep cooking up as many more as my delusional brain can come up with. THANK YOU ALL <3

[milkteabinniechan]

♡Sandcastles - Chan

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: nerd! Chan x best friend! reader

summary: it's finally spring break and with final exams in the rearview mirror, it's time for you and your best friend to enjoy a well-deserved beach day.

warnings: inexperienced Chan, experienced reader, angst, insecurities, body issues, (you make Chan feel better about himself!!) light kissing, so much fluff <333

a/n: sorry for the little hiatus but I am officially back with the first story in the Stray College series :') I hope y'all like it!!!

“Hey, wanna eat lunch together?” Chan said with a bright smile as he scooches toward you. As you sit down next to each other, you both reach for the sandwiches splayed on your trays. “So, how has your day been so far?” Chan asks, trying to keep the conversation light and casual, but his heart races slightly at the proximity to you.

“Oh, fine. What about yours?” You ask. You peel back the lid of your pudding before bringing it to your lips.

Chan watches you lick the pudding clean from the flimsy lid, his mind wandering briefly before he snaps back to the conversation. "Mine was okay, just the usual." He swallows hard, trying to ignore the sudden butterflies in his stomach. You turn towards him, noticing the pile of textbooks next to his arm. Chan has always been too hard on himself when it comes to studying.

“How has biology been? I know the test last week was brutal.” you ask.

Chan chuckles softly, running a hand through his hair. “Oh god, don't remind me. I was up all night studying for that thing.” He pauses, glancing at you with a small smile. “You did pretty well on it, right? I remember you aced the practice tests.”

You feel that familiar warmth start to build in your stomach at his words. A feeling that only Chan has seemed to master to create inside of you.

“Ha, yeah. I guess I did alright on it.”

Chan's eyes linger on your flushed cheeks, a faint warmth spreading through his own chest. “That's great to hear. You're really smart, you know that?” He looks away quickly, his face growing hot. “So, um, have you decided what you're doing for spring break yet?”

Spring break. Most of the students had made plans months ago to go on exotic vacations and expensive cruises. But the two of you had been so caught up with finals that it didn't leave much time for planning. You chew the bottom of your lip in thought. Something easy, something fun, and most importantly, something affordable on a student budget. Your eyes suddenly light up with an idea. “Oh! How about a beach day?”

His heart skips a beat at your enthusiasm. “A... a beach day?” His voice cracks slightly. “That... that sounds nice.” He fidgets with his food, trying to hide a nervous smile. “Though... I'm not really the most experienced swimmer…” He lied. Truth was, Chan loved to swim but hadn't done it in years. You give him a warm smile, nudging his arm with yours playfully. “That's okay! We'll just hang out on dry land, make sandcastles and get food and tan!”

Chan blushes deeper at the playful nudge, his stomach fluttering with excitement and nerves. “A tan, huh? I'd really like that. With you.”

Your face turned a brighter shade of red. “Then it's a date! meet me tomorrow at Eagle Crest beach okay? And don't forget your bathing suit!” You give Chan a wink before grabbing your lunch tray and walking away. Chan's jaw nearly drops at your wink, his entire body flushing red as he watches you walk away. He mutters softly to himself, hardly believing what just happened "A-a date? Did... did we just... oh god…”

The next day, Chan arrives at Eagle Crest Beach, his heart pounding like a drum solo as he scans the crowd for you. He's armed with SPF 100 sunscreen, an oversized beach towel (his shield against embarrassment), and a stomach full of butterfly-flavored nerves. He spots your waving arm and makes his way over, trying to act casual despite his racing heart. As he gets closer, he sees the towels and umbrella, realizing you actually meant this to be a real beach day, not just a meet-up. "You... you planned this.”

Your eyes follow his as the two of you take in the set up you've made for the day. Embarrassment washes over you like a cold wave as you realize you may have done too much, been too eager, too excited and now he would feel uncomfortable. “It's nice.” Chan whispers under a smile. You smile back and decide to make yourself comfortable. You lift your shirt to reveal a bright red bathing suit top. Chan's eyes widen as he takes in your red bikini top, his mind blanking for a moment before he quickly averts his gaze, blushing furiously. He swallows hard, trying to act normal as he spreads his beach towel next to yours. He looks down at his baggy white T-shirt, then back at your bikini top, gulping audibly. He hesitantly pulls his T-shirt over his head, revealing a chiseled physique.

Your eyes flicker over to him innocently before they drink in the entire view. He catches you staring at his abdomen as he adjusts his towel, his muscles flexing unintentionally. He's always been shy about his physique, but seeing your reaction makes him feel a strange warmth spreading across his chest, not from the sun. "You... you good?”

Your mouth goes dry at the moment he turns towards you. What a ridiculous fucking question. Your voice is now a strangled and raspy mess. “You're…RIPPED!”

His face turns beet red at your compliment, running a hand through his hair nervously "Oh, um, I... I just workout sometimes. In my room. It started as a way to stay fit and healthy but I just really enjoy it now.”

Your face splits into a wide smile hearing Chan talk about something he genuinely enjoys that isn't school. His eyes seem to glimmer at the mention of it. “Maybe we could workout together sometime?” You push your shoulder into his gently. Chan lets out a chuckle then a deep breath. A breath he didn't know he was holding onto. “I'd like that.” He says softly, his eyes still fixed on the sand at his feet.

The two of you sit together, listening to the waves crashing and breaking into the shore. Soon, most of the people have gone home leaving the two of you and a single umbrella punctured in the shoreline.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice carries over lapping water.

“Sure.”

“You have no idea how hot you are, do you?” You ask, keeping your eyes fixed on the cool blues and greens of the ocean.

Chan coughs into his can of beer. The smell of hops spurts back into his nose as he uses the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. “Excuse me?” His head snaps to you.

“You heard me, bookworm.” You exclamate your words with the sound of your beer can clanking against his.

“I guess, no? I don't really consider myself ‘hot’.” Chan confesses. And it was the truth. He had never been told he was the hot guy before. He was the “nice guy”. The guy that helped you with your homework, the guy that your parents trusted to stay out late with, the guy that followed the rules. “I'm not that guy.” His voice drops to a solemn tone.

You set your empty can of beer down next to you and turn to face Chan, a cheeky smirk growing quickly. “Sorry to be the one to break this to you, but you are that guy. You're the hot guy.”

Chan's eyes lock with yours and for a moment even the waves seem to have slowed themselves to see what would happen next. He knew what the “hot guy” would do in this situation. He would grab the girl and kiss her, right? Right?! He swallows hard, his eyes following yours to his own lips. He feels a sudden urge to close the distance between you, to kiss you and see if the attraction he feels is mutual. But his shyness holds him back, leaving him stuck in place, his lips parted slightly. You let out a soft chuckle and roll your eyes, pulling his face to yours. “Come here, you.”

His eyes widen right before your lips meet his, surprise giving way to pleasure. He melts into the kiss hesitant at first, overwhelmed but eager. After a moment, he timidly begins to reciprocate, his inexperienced lips moving clumsily against yours. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss slightly, trying to mimic what he's seen in movies. He can feel your body pressed against his, making him acutely aware of his own thick frame. He breaks the kiss briefly to whisper, "How's that for the ‘hot guy’?”

taglist: @simply-trash5 @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics @ell0thebell @stephanieeeyang @juskz @kimahreummm @readr1221 @kayleefriedchicken @ovulatingrn @hwnglixho @darthmaddie25 @queen-in-the-shadows @itgirlalisaa @miinhoo @greyaia @chanchansgirly @skzleeknowcore @skz-smut-reader @thatisrankharry @hearts4yawnzzn @jchotch726 @cherricola-star @minh0scat @kibs-and-bits @minhosgirlposts @firelordtsuki @softkisshyunjin @doyunkang @cocofia143 @nchhuhi @iovecb97 @skzfairyyydreamz @mikeysonlygirl @kwitchabtchn

[captain-jacks-coat]

I NEED THIS

NOT ONLY FOR THE JOKES BUT FOR QUI-GON

I WATCHED THE PHANTOM MENACE WHEN I WAS LIKE FOUR (my father is irresponsible but I found it easier to cope with than most of the stuff my mum wanted me to watch so)

AND I WAS SO ATTACHED TO QUI-GON. SO FUCKING ATTACHED. I WANTED THE GUY TO ADOPT ME. MY FIRST PROPER HEADCANON EVER WAS THAT HE WAS ANAKIN'S BIOLOGICAL DAD.

DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW UPSETTING IT WAS FOR A FOUR YEAR OLD TO SEE THEIR FIRST PROPER FAVOURITE CHARACTER GET LIGHTSABERED???

AND THEN AND THEN TO MAKE IT WORSE, WHEN THE LITTLE BROTHER WATCHES STAR WARS FOR THE FIRST TIME, HIS FAVOURITE CHARACTER IS DARTH FUCKING MAUL!

AND WHEN I WAS MAYBE SIX, I GOT TOLD "OH YEAH REVIVAL'S A THING, DARTH MAUL CAME BACK"

AND I WAS SO PISSED OFF BECAUSE DARTH MAUL???? REALLY???? AND I ASKED "DOES THAT MEAN QUI-GON CAN COME BACK????

AND THEY SAID NO

And I was devastated, obviously. And for some reason I just never came across any movies with Liam Neeson in them, so I considered him "just Qui-Gon" until I watched Love Actually last year and basically just stayed for him

2022, Obi-Wan Kenobi comes out. My entire family is excited, and so am I, but less so. Then the final episode comes along, and as my family always does, we're making predictions.

"Which character is going to show up for a cameo this time?"

No one guessed Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon Jinn showed up, and I started crying because he came back.

I still hate Darth fucking Maul.

If Obi-Wan had actually stayed on Mandalore with Satine after the Civil War and left the Jedi Order, it would've made The Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones peak comedy.

Like, Qui-Gon would still be sent to Naboo and end up on Tatooine, he'd still meet Anakin and take him back to the Temple. But, in this AU, he survives the battle on Theed and takes Anakin as his padawan. And the entire Order would be making jokes:

"Congrats on the new padawan! Hope he sticks around longer than the last one!" "We'll keep this one off the bodyguard missions, eh Qui-Gon?"

So one day little Anakin’s like "hey master, what happened to your last padawan?" And Qui-Gon's like "oh he ran off with a girl, yeah he's royalty in the Outer Rim now".

And it's all fine and dandy until Anakin’s nineteen and they get assigned to protect Padmé, and Qui-Gon takes one look at this kid's face and thinks "You've got to be fucking kidding me, this shit again??"

[calebsmuse]

not me haunting your asks in every single blog you own 😈 sooo, do you write parents!au? bc I wanted to request some scenario abt how sylus, caleb and xavier would react to their kids telling u to shut up. I KNOW ITS WEIRD BUT ITS A OLD TREND I THINK?? anyway, love ya babe 💘💋💋

੭⠀ A little prank.

⋆⠀AUTHOR'S NOTES: I love parents!au so much 😭

⋆⠀FEATURING: Xavier, Sylus, Caleb.

⋆⠀WARNING: English is not my first language, so it may contain some mistakes.

Your son’s favorite pastime was annoying his father, and he was certainly better at it than anyone else. Not only that, but he also managed to convince you to help with yet another one of his… pranks.

The boy smiled when he saw his father heading to the kitchen and turned back to his video game. Not long after, you walked into the room with something in hand. “Sweetheart, could you take this—”

“Shut up, mom,” he tried to say in an irritated tone, but a smile was plastered across his face.

𝜗ৎ ⠀⠀XAVIER

Not even five seconds had passed before your son was groaning in pain, Xavier’s slipper lying on the couch beside him after hitting the back of his head squarely. “Dad—”

Xavier raised the other slipper, pointing it at the boy. “Apologize. Now,” he said, his eyebrows furrowing. “Is that any way to talk to your mother?”

“But I was busy, and she—” Once again, the boy didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, the other slipper flying straight at him. Xavier crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on his son.

You widened your eyes and placed a hand on your husband’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “Okay, okay, it was a… joke, just a prank.”

Xavier gave a faint smirk, glancing at you. “…Yeah, I knew that.” He pulled you into a hug, sticking his tongue out at your son. “You think I’d stop at that if I saw him disrespecting you like that?”

𝜗ৎ ⠀⠀SYLUS

Sylus prided himself on being an exemplary father. He was patient, fun—or so he thought—and wealthy. I mean, surely his son was already having a better childhood than most people who came from the same place Sylus had, right?

And perhaps it was exactly that freedom and comfort in his presence that made the boy feel confident enough to make that kind of joke.

“I must’ve misheard. Definitely,” Sylus said loud enough for both of you to hear. You turned away so he wouldn’t see your expression, while your son simply grimaced.

“Dad, she could’ve just asked one of my uncles to go—or, I don’t know, gone herself!” the boy said, spinning the pieces of a pistol between his fingers.

Sylus’s steps were almost inaudible; it was as if he had teleported to his son’s side. He crossed his arms, an irritated expression on his face. His son had never seen that look before—at least, not directed at him.

“Don’t you dare talk to your mother like that under this roof,” he said. “I don’t care if she could’ve asked someone else—if she tells you to do something, you do it. She brought you into this world.”

The boy couldn’t hold back his laughter, bursting out in hysterics. Your husband opened his mouth to say something but stopped when he saw you laughing as well. He let out a sigh, rubbing his face. “You too now?”

𝜗ৎ ⠀⠀CALEB

Honestly, your son was expecting Caleb to yell at him or chase after him, but it was even more terrifying to see him stay silent, slowly turning to face the boy.

He froze, setting the video game controller down on the coffee table. Caleb’s eyes stayed fixed on him, and his silence lingered just long enough to make the boy shift uncomfortably under the stare.

When Caleb finally spoke, his voice was strangely calm—and that wasn’t exactly a good thing. “You have five seconds to do as your mother said and come back here, and another five to apologize and explain yourself.”

You let out an awkward laugh before wrapping your arms around your husband. “It was just a joke, I swear.” Caleb glanced at you, slipping a hand under your shirt to give you a pinch. “Ouch! It was his idea!”

He rolled his eyes but let out a relieved laugh, despite his irritation with your newfound way of spending free time. “I should’ve known.”

[kirbmey]

　 ྀི︶˚̣̣̣⠀⠀⠀vacations w bigbrother!caleb⠀⠀⠀˚̣̣̣︶ ྀི

synopsis: you’re having a summer dinner with your family and friends, but caleb gets angry at an old gossipy lady ( ｡ •` ⤙´• ｡)

tw: reader is implied to be smaller than caleb, reader is very feminine, dumbification, slurs like ‘whore’, possessive!caleb, stepcest, manipulation, dark romance, usage of ‘gege’ and ‘big brother’, slightly inspired by the movie ‘call me by your name’, caleb is kinda aggressive not towards reader tho, etc.

there was this tradition running in your family where you would move to your summer villa for the whole summer season, inviting some of your parents' friends over as well; needless to say, your step brother was also included in the plan.

you were always excited about these, being able to wear your a little too short summer dresses in front of your big brother without question to every dinner, adoring giving yourself a cute look for caleb to see, only wanting to be pretty for your big brother ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

this night was nothing different, you wore this pale pink sundress that left little to the imagination along with some other pink accessories, wearing the necklace he gifted you; you never took it off.

every night your housemaid would set up the long and old wooden table in the patio with refreshing food, all the people in the villa gathering to spend time together after their tiring activities in the beach. you sat in front of caleb as usual, feeling his warm palm rest in the fat of your thigh and caressing it with his thumb in circular motions.

he loved to stare at your angelic-like features while talking about whatever thing you were talking about with your aunt, sometimes forgetting that the rest of your family was there and that he had to keep appearances to any curious eyes.

⠀⠀　　“so, caleb?” he turns his head way too fast at his name being called, getting out of the trance he got caught on by staring at your red plump lips. “how are you doing with your studies?” a friend from your parents asks, he didn’t even know her name.

⠀⠀　　“mmh, well, all good. gotta study more than expected but she helps me with that, I have a hard time focusing, you know…” he answers with a boyish smile and tender voice, pinching your skin when pronouncing your name.

⠀⠀　　“yeah! gege is working really hard for this career, and i try to help him as much as i can” you voice an answer in a sweet tone, him knowing the reality of this said help.

⠀⠀　　“i see, you two seem really close, if i didn’t know you i’d think you ar—”, “well, that cuts it for tonight i’m afraid” your mother intervenes, knowing how annoying her friend gets regarding this topic. they even argued several times about how your relationship should be checked on since it looked very inappropriate from the outside, but she refused to listen, being a blind believer on your innocent sister-brother interactions, thinking caleb it’s just very clingy and protective about you.

a fierce blush creeps onto your cherub cheeks, feeling embarrassed at anyone questioning your relationship with your gege.

wasn’t it normal, having your big brother hold you for way too long, getting kissed on the lips before going to sleep or even helping you with the strange ache between your thighs when he rubbed himself against you to keep you warm at night?

he made sure to keep you away from anything or anyone vulgar, wanting to cherish your pure mind and thoughts for himself to slowly corrupt, carefully making you believe that good girls don’t go out with boys, don’t kiss anyone but their big brothers and reaching him to ask for help regarding any small issue a normal person could take care of themselves, but not you. you were too stupid ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა

and just like that, he made you his little doll for him and him alone, emptying your silly head from anyone but him. you depended on him for anything.

your nipples got hard in the winter? don’t worry, he will slowly rub them while you sat on his lap with his cock buried deep inside you, just to keep you warm. whispering sweet nothings to you while leaving wet kisses along your neck, smiling to himself when listening to your adorable whimpers. he had to use every single trace of self control to not break your puffy pussy in two right there.

he actually never properly fucked you, just played with you like adults do (..◜ᴗ◝..) nothing wrong with that, right?

you wanted to help him focus on his homework? you knew how easily distracted your gege could get and you just wanted to help! (•ᴖ•｡) so he told you to get on your knees, making sure it was on top of some soft cushion, and commanded you to start pampering small kisses on his bulge. just like the ones you gave him all over the face when you were happy to see him ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

so you kept your hands on your lap like the good girl you were to approach his big bulge hiding under his grey sweatpants, leaving sweet little smoochies all over his prince's parts (as he called yours your princess’s parts), and leaving light traces of saliva on the way.

just a few minutes like that, completely focused on the task your gege gave you to please him as you always wanted, and he came undone fully clothed. you looked up at him trough your long lashes, surprised to see that creamy liquid stain his pants, the same one he made you lick from his fingers sometimes before (⁠ᗒ⩊ᗕ ྀི)

he can’t help but laugh fondly at your expression, caressing your cheek before slipping his thumb into your mouth, feeling how you wrapped your warm tongue against the pad of his finger.

now you were both heading to your shared bedroom, the inside of the villa specially silent since everybody else stayed outside, smoking and updating on the latest gossips while drinking the leftover wine.

caleb was mad, how dare that bitch even think about questioning you two? he knew what was best for you, he was your shiny armor knight, your big brother who would always protect you. what was wrong with that?

your tiny heels clicked trough the long and empty halls, chasing after caleb as your short legs could; he was stomping, and he was truly angry.

you never saw him so mad ever since he caught you watching some filthy porn a friend of yours sent you when you told her that you didn’t do that kind of thing since your brother told you to not to. needless to say, he made sure to beat her up real good so she wouldn’t get any close to you, ever. but you didn’t need to know what he did, he’s just protecting you! (づ_ど)

once you catch up with him inside the said bedroom you pout, playing with the lacy hem of your dress as you close the door behind you. he’s sits down on the edge of the bed, holding his head between his hands as he takes deep breaths. he had to take care of that whore later, noted.

⠀⠀　　“gege? what’s wrong? did i do something bad?” you inquisitively ask, taking careful steps to stand before him, still playing around with your clothes in a nervous manner.

no answer from him, just a deep breath and a big pair of hands holding the back of your thighs to bring you closer, burying his face in the plush of your belly while featherly kissing it.

⠀⠀　　“no, doll, you did nothing wrong.” he blurs out against the soft fabric of your dress. “it’s just mom’s friend, she made me angry.” you feel his hands creep closer to your ass, holding yourself onto his broad shoulders.

you knew caleb didn’t like the questioning of your relationship, he liked to keep things private, a secret only for you two. your silly head couldn’t find an answer, what were you supposed to say when his skilled fingers removed your cottony panties down and he kept his pinkish gaze on you like that?

⠀⠀　　“you’re mine, pips, you know everything i do is for your own good.” you knew it, that old lady’s words meant nothing to you. “what would you do without me, hmm?”

you heard the side zipper of the dress and before you know it, you’re fully naked in front of him. it’s not the first time, but you can’t help feeling a little ashamed. he’s so perfect, tall and fit, and you don’t match his toned body.

you cross your arms in front of your breasts, hiding your blushing face underneath your hair, feeling his hand once again come up to your chin to lift it up while the other one holds your wrists a little bit too hard.

⠀⠀　　“don’t dare hiding from me, princess, you know I love the sight.” he confesses in a breath, restarting the trail of kisses from your soft belly down to your pubes, rubbing the tip of his nose against the little hairs.

you can’t help but whine, readjusting your hands on top of his head, caressing his soft dark locks trough your slim fingers. “gege, don’t do that, you know it feels achy.” you complain in a peachy voice.

he falls on blind ears, paying all of his attention to your princess’s parts, making you separate your legs by holding your inner thighs before lowering his head to clit level, smothering the growing bud with open-mouthed kisses.

he slowly toyed with your dripping entrance, circling the ring muscle with his index finger while paying attention to your pearl, lost in the sweet and sour flavor of yours. “fuck, doll, what do I have to do to make everyone understand that you’re my good girl, hmm?”

you don’t even listen to him, too caught up in the sensation of said finger caressing your velvety walls, throwing your head back while you pushed your hips closer to his face, letting out an adorable moan when feeling a second one peeking in.

⠀⠀　　“i see, you’re too stupid to answer that.” he said in a condescending way, fucking you with his long fingers slow but deep, even biting your clit at times. “don’t you see you need me to do everything for you?” one harsh thrust, reaching that gummy spot. “to tie your shoes, to wash your hair, even to dress you up in the morning?”

you were a moaning mess, your hair falling like a cascade at your back and sticking to your sweaty forehead, your toes curling at the way his skilled fingers toyed with your weak spot, feeling how he curved them inside you, that strange sensation knotting in your belly. “gege, i feel weird again, stop, stop” the tears in the corner of your eyes fall away to your neck.

⠀⠀　　“let go f’me, angel, you know your big brother likes it.” and he loved it, the taste of your juices, sweet enough to be addictive. before you realize you were creaming his fingers, feeling a strong arm wrap around your waist to keep you from falling. “good girl, you did so good for me”.

his murmurs fall quiet when he laps at your pussy to take every single drop of you in his mouth, moaning at the taste. your head falls on top of his, trying to catch your breath while he wraps you with both arms and lifts you up, heading to the bathroom to clean you up.

he first washed your sweaty body and clothed you with one of his huge t shirts, you falling asleep mid-bath and him taking you to bed carefully, making sure you were comfortable before taking care of his hard dick and rubbing himself against your discarded panties, staining them with cum not many minutes later (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

he threw them inside one of his designated drawers and hugged your smaller frame into his naked chest, drifting to sleep.

your big brother loved you so so much!

a/n: let me know if you liked it, i want feedback! also, idk if this was too long, i got carried away hehe (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

HEAD OVER HEELS

drew starkey x fem!reader

(mood board does NOT depict readers appearance !!)

SUMMARY: in which drew starkey is head over heels in love with his girlfriend, y/n.

based on this ask !! i really hope you like this anon, you didn’t request a specific plot so i went with this :)

WARNINGS: pure fluff, obsessed!drew but in a cutie patootie way !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

A/N: i promise guys i will sort out making a master list tonight !! for now, click on my personalised tags like #bettys asks !!

WORD COUNT: 1k

THIRD PERSON +

Drew couldn't stop talking about her. His girlfriend, Y/N, that is.

His castmates on the Outer Banks set had long since grown used to it, though they still teased him mercilessly. It wasn't unusual for him to pull out his phone between takes and scroll through pictures of her, showing anyone who would listen. Even Chase joked once, "You know, Drew, we've all met her. You don't have to keep proving she exists."

But Drew didn't care. He loved talking about her. Loved the way her smile lit up his entire day, the way her laughter felt like sunshine breaking through clouds. Y/N was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he wasn't shy about letting everyone know it.

"She's visiting today," Drew announced, a giddy grin spreading across his face as he leaned against the craft services table.

Madelyn raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching in amusement. "You've only mentioned that about a hundred times this week."

"Yeah, and what's your point?" Drew shot back, unbothered. He grabbed a bottle of water and opened it, taking a sip before adding, "I just can't wait for you guys to see her again. She's incredible."

Madelyn exchanged a knowing look with Rudy, who was attempting (and failing) to suppress a laugh.

When Y/N finally arrived on set that afternoon, Drew spotted her instantly. She stepped out of the car, her hair slightly tousled from the coastal breeze, and his entire world seemed to pause. She was wearing his favorite sundress—the one he'd told her once made her look like a walking daydream—and he couldn't stop the wide, lovesick smile that overtook his face.

"Y/N!" Drew called out, practically sprinting toward her.

Before she could respond, he had her wrapped in his arms, lifting her off the ground as she let out a surprised laugh.

"Joseph Andrew Starkey! Put me down!" she exclaimed, though she was grinning just as much as he was.

"Not a chance," he replied, spinning her around once before finally setting her back on her feet. "God, I missed you."

"You saw me three days ago," she teased, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

"And that's three days too long," he said without missing a beat, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

It didn't take long for the rest of the cast to spot her. Chase and Rudy came over to say hi, both of them giving her warm hugs and cracking jokes about how Drew had been "insufferable" without her.

"You're a saint for putting up with him," Rudy quipped, earning a playful shove from Drew.

Y/N laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly as Drew laced their fingers together. "He's not so bad," she said, glancing up at Drew with a soft smile.

"Not so bad?" Drew repeated, feigning offense. "I'll have you know I'm the perfect boyfriend."

"And humble, too," she teased, nudging him lightly.

The group chatted for a while before Drew pulled her away, eager to have her to himself. He brought her to his trailer, where he'd set up a small surprise for her: a bouquet of her favorite flowers and a handwritten note resting on the table.

"Drew," she said softly, her eyes shining as she turned to look at him. "You didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to," he said, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around her waist. "You deserve it. You deserve everything."

She leaned into him, resting her head against his chest as she took a deep breath. "You're too good to me, you know that?"

"Not possible," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

For the rest of the day, Drew was glued to her side. He introduced her to everyone on set—again—even though most of them already knew her from her previous visits. But it didn't matter to Drew. He wanted to show her off, to let the world see just how amazing she was.

During breaks in filming, he would find her wherever she was sitting and drape himself over her like an oversized golden retriever. "You comfortable?" he'd ask, despite the fact that he was the one taking up all the space.

"Very," she'd reply, laughing as she adjusted to make room for him.

When it came time for Drew to shoot his scenes, Y/N watched from the sidelines, her eyes filled with pride. He'd glance over at her between takes, flashing her a grin or a wink, and her heart would flutter every time.

At one point, Madelyn leaned over to Y/N and whispered, "He's like this all the time, you know. Completely obsessed with you."

Y/N's cheeks turned pink, but she couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face. "I'm not complaining," she said softly, her gaze never leaving Drew.

By the time the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the set, Drew was practically attached to her hip. He posted a candid photo of her sitting on a beach chair, the ocean in the background and a soft smile on her face. The caption was simple: My favourite view.

"You're going to make people sick with how sweet you are," she joked when she saw the post.

"Good," he said, pulling her into his arms. "Let them be sick. I don't care."

That night, as they sat on the beach together, watching the waves crash against the shore, Drew couldn't help but feel like the luckiest guy in the world.

"I love you," he said suddenly, his voice soft but steady.

She turned to look at him, her eyes wide and a little surprised.

"I mean it," he continued, his gaze locked on hers. "I love you. More than anything."

A smile spread across her face, and she reached up to cup his cheek. "I love you too, Drew."

In that moment, with the stars beginning to twinkle above them and the sound of the ocean in the background, Drew felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be. With her.

Always with her.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was so sweet :’) there’s something about guys who are so lovesick and obsessed with their gf’s that just MELTS my heart😫

i’m still working my way through all my requests from oldest to newest (except a couple i got good inspiration for), so please be patient if you’ve recently requested something !! <3

[vaspider]

So... I am not a lawyer, and none of this is legal advice.

As of RIGHT NOW, Form DS-11 says Gender on it and has instructions for changing your gender and has an X box on it still. What I'm reading is that like... as of right now, only Rubio is confirmed, and changes to procedures on passports require coordination from Homeland Security, State, and the Office of Personnel Management, so those changes can't actually be made until there are people running all of those departments.

So if you have supporting documents that match everything that the CURRENT FORM says is correct, you could ignore the EOs - which are basically just press releases on this matter - and get your ass to a Passport office like immediately. You are following the written instructions on the form. That is what the form tells you to do, and that is what the procedures and penalties are - as I understand it - based on. (Again, I'm not a lawyer. Talk to your lawyer first.)

And like... Lambda Legal has basically said that once someone actually gets denied (in contravention of a court order, btw, in the case of the X marker), then they can file a lawsuit. So. If you have the stomach for it, and you get denied, you could be the test case. Me, I would talk to my lawyer and my family first, but somebody is gonna have to be the test case. If you have the strength to make it you after talking to your lawyer? Yeah.

But this goes back to my greater point: Executive Orders are basically just press releases. They are the governmental equivalent of piling a bunch of things in your shopping cart and yelling, "I own all of these things!" And maybe one or two of those things, that's true. But the rest? You've got to check out through the courts or Congress or the process of rule-making.

This man is not a king. Do not take him at his word.

And yes, if you just got or renewed your passport, it is valid for its entire term.

So… I got a notification from the State Department at like 8 PM Pacific that my passport was approved, and I was quietly thankful and stunned bc my legal gender in Oregon is listed as X, or undeclared, and that's what's on my passport. I'm pretty sure someone(s) worked late to get the X passports done today.

I was already really grateful to whoever in the Seattle Passport Office worked late to get these things processed on the last Friday before That Man gets back into office... and then I got a notification that my passport shipped at fucking midnight Pacific and whoever got that shit out the door so it couldn't be picked up on Monday and like, denied and shredded?

They're my fucking hero.