#something about his jaw is putting me off

[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.

[rafesweetie]

sometimes prissy!reader has a bit of an attitude … it’s safe to say season 1 rafe doesn’t tolerate it.

your wispy eyelashes almost touch your eyebrows as you roll your eyes at your boyfriend, who was telling you that there was still another two whole hours of the golf game left.

it wasn’t your fault, the weather was beating down on you and making your soft skin sweat, your thighs were so hot that they were sticking to the seat in the golf cart, and you ran out of water and beer an hour ago, and the cart girl was no where to be seen. you were promised a comfortable and relaxing day, and instead you’re hot and bored.

rafe’s lip curls up in annoyance at your eyeroll, and he scoffs and walks away, leaving you pouting in the cart. he’s trying to enjoy the day, there’s no way that he’s letting his prissy girlfriend spoil the fun by needing his constant attention.

fanning at yourself when the sun blares down on you, you’re truly putting on a show for rafe, exaggerating so he can take you home. even with his baseball cap that he stuck on your head at your third complaint, and the last sip of his beer that he gave you half an hour ago, you’re still not satisfied. he’s starting to think you’re never satisfied.

“rafe, do you have any sunscreen? i think i’m getting burnt,” you call out after he swings the golf club.

“you think i pack fuckin’ sunscreen? not my fault you’re wearing a tube top, little shoulders bound to get burnt,” he steps back to let topper take his shot. “top, you got any for my girl?”

“nah, man, never pack that shit,” topper answers. rafe can hear you groan from your seat, and usually you’re at least saying ‘thank you’ for checking, but you’re so bored that you’re beyond sweetness.

“do you guys have, like, anything? this is so boring,” you complain from the cart.

topper asks, “did you bring your phone?” and you tell him it died.

rafe’s frankly done with your subtle tantrum, stomping over to you, swinging the club in circles as he walks. if your brain wasn’t so foggy from the heat then you’d admire how his arms look in that polo top, but you can barely even think.

“how about you keep score? hm, kid, how does that sound?” he offers, handing you the scorecard.

“that’s boring, i don’t even know how golf works, don’t know how to do this,” you complain. “rafe, i just wanna walk home, i’m done with this, so boring,”

“all i’m asking is for you to keep score.”

“i don’t have a pen.”

“use your lipliner,”

your lip curls in distaste, a habit picked up from your boyfriend. “that’s stupid, its like, $40,”

“hey,” he scolds. “don’t know where this little attitude came from but it stops now, okay? shit, babe, just trying to enjoy the game. you wanna, uh, you wanna walk home? that what this is? is that what you’ve come to?”

“are you dumb? i’m in heels—“ he cuts you off instantly, not liking your insinuation one bit.

“hey! hey—“ you expect him to grab your jaw or wrist but he grabs your nipple through your shirt, tugging at it so you’re dragged closer to him.

“don’t speak to me like that, a’ight? not fair to me. tried to bring you out here for a fun day, don’t need the fucking insults. say something nice to me or don’t say shit at all. or i can bring you home right now and give you some shit, and i promise you you won’t like it. sit in the cart, keep score, be nice. can you do that?” he continues. you nod, and he pinches your nipple harshly, making you squeak, then lets go.

you watch rafe’s vieny hand adjust your top after that, then watch as it moves up to your cheek. he pats it, gives you a nod with some pretty harsh eye contact, then leaves.

he always knows how to shut you up.

[st7rnioioss]

omg i'm so obsessed with your chris x inexperienced reader series 🙂‍↕️ hate to fill your askbox (i imagine you have lots to do !!) but could you please consider chris wanting inexperienced reader to sit on his face? even though she's shy and scared/embarrassed to do that, chris just wants to devour her

۶ৎ BSF!CHRIS x INEXPERIENCED!READER

˚𝜗𝜚 warnings... smut, oral (f receiving), kissing

“no- no, i promise it won’t hurt me. you just gotta trust me, alright?” chris had a smirk on his lips, though his tone was somewhat soothing, along with his thumbs drawing mindless circles on your inner thighs, his larger palms running up and across the soft skin beneath his own.

you nervously stare at him, your mind running in all directions. chris had asked if you could sit on his face, and you were scared shitless he would suffocate or something along the lines of it.

chris offered you a tiny smile when you nodded and cleared your throat. “o-okay.. but seriously, if you can’t breathe or something, push me o-“

“sweetheart, relax. i won’t suffocate.. you worry too much about me,” he chuckled, reaching up to cradle your face in his hand, pulling you closer for a soft kiss.

he suddenly moves you off his lap, a soft yelp escaping his lips when doing so, before he settles to rest on his back. carefully, he wraps his hands around your thighs, lifting you closer and closer to his face.

slowly and deliberately, he places kisses up the inside of your thighs, leaving a glistening mark. his expression curls up into an almost smug smirk when he spots the wet patch on your panties, laughing to himself.

“oh, baby.. i think you like this, don’t you?” he murmurs, his voice dark and quiet when you settled close to his lips, his warm breath fanning across your inner thighs.

it was pathetic. maybe you did like this, more than you’d like to admit, hence the fact you were clenching around absolutely nothing.

“m-maybe.. a little,” your voice was slightly whiny, the words fading out at the end when chris’s hands guided you closer until your soaked core was hovering directly on top of him.

his fingers snook to your inner thighs, his digit hooked under the bridge of your already damp panties, almost admiring your glistening folds right above him.

“shit.. such a pretty pussy for such a pretty girl..” he husked, pushing the wet fabric to the side to allow the pad of his thumb to brush across your swollen clit, down your wet folds to spread apart.

“f-fuck, chris.. i don’t know- you don’t think i’m too heavy?” your skin was already buzzing, and he had hardly even started yet, one hand holding you up, while the other reached for his hair for some sort of stability.

he shook his head with a gentle smirk, looking up at you to catch your eyes. “you won’t, baby.. you worry too much,”

by now, he’d told you enough times throughout the whole day that it wouldn’t hurt either of you that you convinced yourself it wouldn’t be too bad. he had done this before, just not in this position. so why not give it a try?

with a hesitant nod, chris didn’t waste another second wrapping his arms around your thighs to actually reach your sensitive mess. suddenly, and with a yelp from your swollen lips, he thumps you down carefully, immediately attaching his lips to your bud.

your jaw goes slack, both of your hands instinctively going to entangle into his dark locks, an almost desperate moan falling from your parted lips, your cunt clenching around nothing.

“o-oh my god,” you knew that no matter what, chris could work absolutely wonders with his mouth on your body. but this? this was beyond anything he’d done, anything he’d suggested.

chris could feel you were still holding back, and he knew you were too shy to even let a fragment of your weight on top of him—but he didn’t mind.

with his tongue running over your clit, he pulled you closer to him, and you gradually allowed yourself to put some weight on him.

chris didn’t want to push you further just get, so he continued to let his muscle lap at your folds, occasionally skimming your sensitive pearl. his eyes were stuck shut for the most part, though he stole a couple of glances at your fucked out expression here and there, eliciting whimpers and groans from him that went straight through your core.

“fuck, chris- that’s.. k-keep going,” your words came out as a moan, allowing more weight to rest on top of him when tongue swirled around your nub.

he felt a sense of pride bottle up inside of him, wanting this to nothing less than make you feel like you were on cloud nine, to send you into absolute bliss—which it did.

slowly, he lowered you further down, and you were way too lost in the pleasure to even notice you were fully sitting there, besides the ache in your thighs.

chris’s own head was spinning, your taste on his tongue leading him down a path that he was sure he’d never turn around from, his fingertips digging into the plush skin of your thighs.

“mmpph- please don’t stop,” you squeaked, taking your bottom lip between your teeth to not let the pathetically loud moan that were threatening to slip, fall from your lips. your eyes batted shut, your eyelashes fluttering against your skin.

oh, he didn’t plan on stopping. chris was savoring every second of it, fucking you slowly with his tongue, testing the waters. a sheen of sweat was beaded across your lower back and forehead, a warm pool starting to spread in your lower stomach.

the new change allowed your swollen bud to brush against his nose, your legs attempting to close around his head and your lip slipping from your teeth, wailing on a moan. you could practically feel his saliva mix with your wet mess, coating his lips and chin when he traced and ghosted his tongue over your hole.

“f-fuck! chris, i’m close, please-“

your grip on his hair drove him wild, driving him to fuck you rapidly and lightly with his tongue. one of his larger hands ran up the inside of your thighs, until his thumb met your clit, flattening his tongue over your folds to taste your sweet mess.

“chris, i’m gonna cum-“ your voice was weak, only coming out as a quiet yelp, moans of his name continuing to fall freely from your parted lips.

your cunt was leaking, your hips jerking forward when the circles on your clit sped up. it felt like all your muscles were tightening, a fire running down your spine while the heat spread under your skin.

the tension snapped in your lower tummy when you were pushed over the edge, a strangled moan of his name flowing from your slacked jaw. he let out a weak groan when your release coated his tongue, his eyes pinched shut as if he never wanted to leave this position ever again.

“chris- holy fuck..” you were panting by now, your chest heaving when he continued to glide his muscle from your drooling hole, up to ghost over your bud. broken whimpers of his name fell from your mouth, trying to warn him.

"y'taste so good.. like a fuckin' drug.." chris managed to groan between your legs, his words sending vibrations up your core, his fingers leaving marks on your skin.

your thighs were close to trembling around his head, carefully tugging on his hair as a way of telling him you couldn't take anymore, which he thankfully caught onto.

with a final lap at your leaking folds and a soft kiss to your clit, he gently lifted you from his face, your body buzzing from head to toe when you settled on his hips like before, looking down at his flushed face and glistening lips.

wiping the mix of his own spit and your release off his chin, he smiled up at you, "you don't think you liked that? just a little bit?". his tone was teasing, the smile curling up into a smirk.

"stop, chris.." you shyly giggled, playfully dodging his hand away from your cheek when he reached to cradle your face, a soft, pink hue taking over the soft skin of your cheeks. to say you liked it was a complete understatement.

more bsf!chris x inexperienced!reader here!

𝜗𝜚˚࿔ notes: thank u so much anon!!:3 i hope i got her embarrassment across without making it the whole plot lol. and it's ok!! thank u all so much for the absolute love on this au, it makes me giggle so bad.

۶ৎ taglist 1: @jetaimevous @missmimii @mattscoquette @pearlzier @witchofthehour @elizasturn @loveparqdise @delilahsturniolo @phone4pills @sturnsmia @hearts4werka @cayleeuhithinknott @strnilolover @sturnvxz @lovergirl4gracieabrams @ifwdominicfike @toftomgmf @emely9274 @sturnioloangell @blushsturns @sierrraaaaxz @slut4chris888 @marrykisskilled @sophand4n4 @sturnihoelooo @unknvhx @chrisslut04 @sturniolossss @slvtf0rchr1s @blahbel668 @starkeysturniolo @miolos @user1smvtysturniolo @lizzyzzn @sturnslutz @decimatedxdreams @chrissturnioloswife88 @sturn777 @sturniolonationsblog @frankoceanfanpage @priscillaog @courta13 @sweetrelieef @loverboysturn @sturns-mermaid @cutseylady @sofieeeeex @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @mattsturnii @conspiracy-ash

© ST7RNIOIOSS est. 2023

[storiesforallfandoms]

extreme jealousy ~ thomas shelby;peaky blinders

word count: 2075

request?: no

description: in which she’s finally had enough of thomas shelby when he supposedly kills the man she’s been having a fling with

pairing: thomas shelby x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of death, use of y/n

masterlist (one, two, three)

Tommy was in his study when he heard the sound of his front door slamming shut. He knew exactly who it was. He had left the door unlocked for her, anticipating her appearance.

When she appeared in the doorway, her jaw was clenched and one of her hands was balled into a fist. Tommy simply glanced up from his paper work at her. “Hello, (Y/N).”

“You absolute fucking prick,” she sneered. “You fucking killed Alfie?!”

Tommy sighed, as if (Y/N)’s outburst was an inconvenience to him. “(Y/N) - ”

“No!” she cut him off. “I don’t want to hear whatever bullshit you have cooked up to tell me to try and justify what you did.”

If she was pissed off upon her arrival, then (Y/N) became furious when Tommy took off his glasses and placed them on his desk, then stood and calmly walked to his assortment of liquor. He picked up two glasses, without asking (Y/N) if she wanted one. He knew she’d just continue to throw profanities at him anyways. He dropped two ice cubes each into the glasses and poured them a glass of whiskey each.

Tommy didn’t have to ask how she found out about Alfie so quickly, because he had sent someone to tell her. The moment he knew he would have to kill Alfie, he called for Johnny Dogs to come with him. Johnny was confused at first, thinking Tommy was requesting backup for his meeting. However, when they arrived, Tommy explained he wanted Johnny to witness what was happening, and once it was finished, he wanted Johnny to go tell (Y/N) what had happened.

The news would’ve gotten to her either way, he knew. The smallest kindness he could give her was to make sure she knew right away, and that she knew the truth.

Mostly the truth.

When he offered her the glass, Tommy didn’t expect her to simply take it. He figured she would’ve hurtled the liquor at him, the glass too. He didn’t expect the offering to go well. To his surprise, however, (Y/N) looked at him for a long time before snatching the glass from his hand. She downed the contents in one gulp before handing the glass back to Tommy. Despite his amusement, Tommy knew better than to smile or chuckle.

“Alfie betrayed us,” he explained, as he handed (Y/N) his own glass and went to pour more whiskey into the empty glass for himself. “He gave Changretta information that led to Arthur almost getting murdered. You know I could not let the betrayal go, but especially not when my family’s life is on the line.”

(Y/N) scoffed. “You put your own family’s lives on the line all the time.”

“I never make them do something that could kill them. I calculate very move - ”

“Oh, bullshit,” (Y/N) cut him off. “I’ve known you long enough, Tommy. You don’t calculate shit. You send anyone out into the line of fire, and you get lucky enough that no one gets killed.”

There was a tense silence. (Y/N) had a moment of realization about what she said. She let out a heavy sigh and uttered a soft, “I’m sorry.”

Tommy simply took a sip of his drink. (Y/N) mirrored him, drinking this glass much slower than the last.

“You didn’t have to kill him,” she finally said. Her tone was a little more calm, but Tommy could still hear the anger.

“I had to prove a lesson.”

“You could’ve done that without fucking killing him, Tommy!”

“There’s no other way, (Y/N). If I just wounded him but let him live, it would put out a different message about me and about the Peaky Blinders. It would let everyone know that you can betray us and get away with it.”

(Y/N) was shaking her head. In the dim light of Tommy’s office, he could see tears welling up in her eyes. He had to look away from her so she didn’t see how much her upset was affecting him.

“It’s not just the betrayal,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. “I know it’s not. You were looking for any reason to get rid of Alfie since you found out about us.”

Tommy’s hand tightened around his glass.

It had been merely a month ago that Tommy had walked into Alfie Solomon’s office and found him with (Y/N) on his lap. Luckily, their clothes were still on and nothing indecent was happening. If he had shown up a few minutes later they probably would’ve been, but all he walked in on was the two of them making out. (Y/N) was quickly off Alfie’s lap and out the door after Tommy’s interruption, muttering something about seeing Tommy later. Alfie nonchalantly explained to Tommy that he and (Y/N) had been fucking around for a while now.

Even now, Alfie’s explanation made Tommy angry. “Fucking around”, not even “seeing each other”, which would’ve indicated that Alfie saw (Y/N) as more than just someone to call for a quick fuck. And Tommy thought she deserved more than that.

Not that he’d ever say that out loud.

“It has nothing to do with you,” he told her.

“Bullshit!” (Y/N) snapped. “You need to have control over everyone in your life. You never liked Alfie, even though you two are exactly alike. So when you realized you were losing control over me because I was with Alfie, you wanted a reason to get rid of him! It’s not fucking fair, Tommy! You can’t keep controlling everyone just because you think you’re fucking God! We are all human beings, we are not your playthings!”

As she ranted, Tommy approached (Y/N). He grabbed hold of her shoulders and forced her to look at him. “(Y/N), Alfie isn’t dead!”

(Y/N) stopped talking abruptly. She furrowed her brows at him, as if she didn’t believe him. “But...Johnny Dogs came to my place. He said he was there, he said he saw you shoot Alfie in the eye. He said...he said you left him on the beach.”

Tommy sighed. He hadn’t planned on telling (Y/N) the truth, that he hadn’t actually killed Alfie. The more people who thought Alfie was actually dead, the better. Just like with their plan to fake Arthur’s death. But he couldn’t stand to have (Y/N) here yelling at him over Alfie’s fake death any longer. He thought he could convince her it was the right thing to do, but the more angry she was, the more he was afraid he was actually pushing her away.

“The shot missed,” he admitted. “It grazed Alfie’s cheek instead. After I sent Johnny Dogs to your place, I went back to check for myself. Alfie was still breathing, albeit he was bleeding out quickly. I made some calls, had some people go get him and patch him up so he wouldn’t die. And I sent a message to him to get the fuck out of Birmingham once he was fully recovered. I may have let him live, but he still betrayed us and my message still needed to be heard.”

(Y/N)’s eyes were searching Tommy’s face, trying to see if there was a hint of dishonesty. Finally, she asked, “Where is he?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Fuck sakes, Tommy!” She broke away from him, her anger ignited again.

Now, Tommy was starting to get frustrated as well. He thought telling (Y/N) would mean she would drop the subject. That she would stop getting angry with him and they could move on from Alfie. So, he also snapped, “I don’t want you to see Alfie anymore!”

“Why?!”

“Because I’m in love with you!”

The whole room fell still. (Y/N) literally took a step back at Tommy’s outburst. He wanted desperately to take it back, but it was out there now. He turned away from her and went to filled his glass again, which had managed to go empty in the last few minutes.

(Y/N) finally broke the silence to say, “So...did you kill - try to kill Alfie...because you were jealous?”

Tommy let out a humorless laugh. “I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t part of the reason.”

“But...but Lizzie...”

Tommy sighed. Indeed, Lizzie.

The woman who was currently carrying his child. The woman who he held such a high regard for. The woman he had used when he was missing Grace a little and was heartbroken after seeing Alfie and (Y/N) together. A brief moment of vulnerability that resulted in a child.

“I intend to marry Lizzie,” Tommy admitted. “I have to. I respect her too much to let her give birth to a bastard child.”

“But you don’t love her.”

Tommy shook it head. “She doesn’t love me, either. We’ve both established that. We accidentally created a child together, and the right thing to do in this situation is to be married so that Lizzie isn’t a mother out of wedlock and the child isn’t a bastard.”

Tears were welling up in (Y/N)’s eyes again. “Well then, you’ve managed to break my heart twice in one day, Tommy.”

(Y/N) had turned and left his office before Tommy would comprehend what she had said. He was quick to put down his glass and race after her. She was taking quick strides to get to the door before he could reach her, but in the end Tommy was faster. He took hold of her shoulders again, stopping her in her tracks and turning her to face him.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Just let it go, Tommy.”

“No. (Y/N), what do you mean I broke your heart twice?”

She was crying now, unable to stop the flow of tears. She looked up into Tommy’s eyes and said, “The first time you broke my heart was when you sent Johnny Dogs to tell me you killed Alfie. The second time was when you told me you loved me and made me think I had a chance, before telling me you intend on marrying another woman.”

Tommy could hardly comprehend what he was hearing. There was no way (Y/N) was admitting to loving him back. It just seemed impossible. Moments ago she was screaming at him for killing the man she was seeing (”fucking around with”), and now she was telling him that he had broken her heart by telling her he intended on marrying Lizzie. It just seemed too good to be true.

“Can you let me go?” she asked, her voice small. “I don’t think I can be here with you anymore, Tommy.”

He didn’t let her go. Instead, he pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers. It was an impulsive decision. He couldn’t let her leave like this.

When she pulled away, he let her. He let go of her, even though it risked her running off. He wouldn’t force her to stay there if she didn’t want to, but he couldn’t let her leave thinking that she had no chance of being with him.

But she didn’t leave. Instead, all she said was, “Lizzie...”

“I can work something out with Lizzie,” he said. “Maybe not marriage, but something. It’s my child she’s carrying, she’s got personal connections to the Peaky Blinders. Even if I don’t marry her, I can still make sure she is protected and respected.”

“But you just said - ”

“(Y/N),” he cut her off. “If you want me, then you will have me. There will be no one else. All you have to do is say the word, and it’ll just be you.”

A chuckle escaped her lips. “Of course, Tommy.”

Tommy wasted no time in taking (Y/N) into his arms and kissing her again. This time, she leaned into him. She let him envelope her in his embrace and hold her completely to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close.

“I’m still a little mad at you for making me believe you shot Alfie,” she mumbled against his lips.

Tommy chuckled. “It’s part of the job, love. You’ll have to get used to it.”

“As long as you’re no the one getting shot in the face, then I think I can be okay with it.”

He kissed her again. He never wanted to stop kissing her.

[sxcretricciardo]

I’m back… pt.3

social media au

part two here

•

f1 BREAKING: Norris and Y/L/N are out of the race ⚠️

view more comments

username1 omg they’re gonna end up killing each other

username2 damn, but it was clearly Lando’s fault

-> username3 right?? Why didn’t he leave enough space???

username4 the fact that Y/N got out of the car and almost threw hands at Lando she’s a BADASS

-> username5 she isn’t taking shit from him, go girl 🤭

-> username6 as she SHOULD

username7 Oscar asking on the radio if she was okay before asking about his OWN teammate 👀

•

real life

The post-race chaos was a blur as you stormed into the McLaren garage, your pulse hammering in your ears. Every muscle in your body was tense, your mind replaying the sickening crunch of metal and the stomach-lurching spin off the track. The collision with Lando had been entirely avoidable, and you knew it.

Lando was sitting on a workbench, still in his race suit, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. When he looked up and saw you, his jaw clenched. He set his water bottle down, clearly bracing himself for what was coming.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Lando?” you spat, your voice sharp enough to cut glass.

He stood, matching your intensity. “Don’t start with me, Y/N. You were just as much at fault.”

“Don’t you dare try to put this on me!” you snapped, stepping closer. “I gave you enough room! You turned in on me like you wanted to take us both out!”

His eyes flared with anger, but he didn’t respond right away, and that silence was all the confirmation you needed.

“This wasn’t just a racing incident,” you pressed, your voice shaking with fury. “That was personal. What were you thinking, huh? That you’d knock some sense into me? Scare me? Or were you just trying to hurt me because you still can’t stand the fact that I walked away from you?”

“Stop,” he said, his voice low but warning.

“No, I won’t stop!” you shouted. “You’ve been acting like this ever since I left you—since I finally decided I deserved better than someone who cheats!”

The words hung in the air between you like a live wire, and you saw the flicker of guilt cross his face before he masked it with anger.

“Don’t bring that up again,” he said tightly, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

“Why not? It’s the truth, isn’t it?” you shot back. “You ruined us, Lando. You did. And now you’re trying to ruin me on the track, too?”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t like that out there.”

“Then what was it like?” you demanded, your voice shaking. “Because from where I’m standing, it looked like you were trying to prove a point.”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he muttered.

“Could’ve fooled me,” you said bitterly.

Lando looked up at you, his expression cracking just enough for you to see the regret underneath. “I lost my head, okay? Seeing you… seeing you so happy, like none of it even mattered—it got to me.”

You stared at him, disbelief flooding through you. “So you risked my safety—our safety—because you’re jealous? Because you can’t stand the fact that I’ve moved on?”

“Maybe I can’t,” he admitted, his voice quiet but raw. “Maybe I hate seeing you with them—watching you smile at other guys like you used to smile at me. Do you know how hard it is to see that and know it’s my fault? That I’m the one who screwed it up?”

Your breath caught, his confession hitting you like a punch to the gut. But it didn’t soften your anger. If anything, it made it worse.

“You don’t get to play the victim here, Lando,” you said coldly. “You made your choice. You cheated. And I walked away because I deserve better than someone who couldn’t even respect me.”

His shoulders sagged, the weight of your words clearly hitting him, but you weren’t done.

“And now? Now you’re letting your jealousy and regret turn into something dangerous. You could’ve ended my career out there today. Or worse.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far.”

“Sorry isn’t enough,” you replied, stepping back. “I’ve moved on, Lando. Maybe it’s time you try to do the same.”

He didn’t say anything as you turned and walked away, leaving him standing there in the quiet of the garage. But as you stepped out into the paddock, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t over—that whatever unresolved emotions still lingered between you would find a way to surface again.

•

yourusername not the result I wanted for this weekend… but I’ll keep pushing to get back those lost points! See you next weekend 💪🏻🫶🏻

view more comments

username1 clearly not your fault! That penalty was well given to Lando!

fernandoalo_oficial you got this chica 💪🏻

alex_albon let’s go! glad you’re not hurt

username2 get it girl!! 😍

oscarpiastri 💪🏻

username3 the next dts season is gonna be INSANE I can’t wait 🤭

•

real life

The day had been long and emotionally exhausting. After your fight with Lando, you had barely made it through the mandatory media debriefs without snapping at someone. Now, standing in the paddock under the setting sun, you were relieved that the weekend was finally over.

“Rough day, huh?” Fernando’s familiar voice broke through your thoughts.

You turned to find your teammate leaning casually against the wall, his helmet bag slung over one shoulder. Despite the chaos of the day, Fernando always seemed composed, a stark contrast to your current state.

“That’s putting it mildly,” you replied, managing a weak smile.

He nodded knowingly, then tilted his head slightly. “I heard you’re heading to the Aston Martin headquarters tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “Have to go over some data with the engineers.”

“Same here,” he said, his tone casual. “Why don’t you skip the hassle of a commercial flight and ride with me? My jet’s leaving in an hour.”

The offer caught you off guard, but it also sounded like the perfect way to escape the mess of today. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Fernando said with a small smile. “It’ll be nice to have some company.”

An hour later, you were seated across from Fernando on his private jet, a glass of wine in hand. The plush interior and quiet hum of the engines felt like a world away from the chaos of the paddock.

“To surviving another race weekend,” Fernando said, raising his glass with a smirk.

You chuckled, clinking your glass against his. “Barely.”

As the jet cruised through the night sky, the wine kept flowing, and so did the conversation. Fernando was surprisingly easy to talk to, his sharp wit and dry humor making you laugh more than you had all weekend. You found yourself relaxing in his company, the tension from earlier slowly melting away.

But somewhere between the second and third glass, the atmosphere began to shift. His gaze lingered a little too long, and your laughs turned into soft smiles. You couldn’t ignore the way his voice dipped when he said your name, or the way his hand brushed yours when he reached for the bottle.

It was reckless, you knew that, but when he leaned closer, his dark eyes searching yours for permission, you didn’t stop him. His lips were on yours before you could think, the kiss slow and deliberate, leaving no room for doubt about what he wanted.

One thing led to another, and soon you found yourself tangled in the sheets of the jet’s private cabin. It was a blur of heated whispers, soft gasps, and the kind of passion you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Afterward, as you lay beside him, reality began to sink in. You sat up, pulling the blanket around you, your mind racing.

“This can’t happen again,” you said, your voice firm despite the lingering warmth of his touch.

Fernando propped himself up on one elbow, his expression unreadable. “I know,” he said simply.

“I mean it, Fernando,” you pressed, turning to face him. “We’re teammates. This… this could complicate everything. It was a mistake.”

He studied you for a moment, then nodded. “I get it. One time, no strings.”

His calm response surprised you. You had expected more pushback, maybe even an argument, but his easy acceptance only reinforced why you had always respected him.

“Nothing changes between us,” he added, his voice steady. “We’re still teammates. Still focused on the team. This doesn’t leave this jet.”

You exhaled in relief, appreciating his maturity. “Thank you.”

Fernando gave you a small smile, his hand brushing against yours briefly. “Get some rest. We’ve got work to do tomorrow.”

As you settled back into the seat, your thoughts swirled. You told yourself it was a one-time lapse in judgment, a fleeting moment of weakness.

•

yourusername alexa play “kill bill” by SZA 🔪

view more comments

oscarpiastri I hope you liked the cake

-> yourusername you spoil me too much, pastry🥐

-> georgerussel63 you’ve never sent me cake, I’m jealous oscarpiastri

-> yourusername come get your man carmenmmundt 😴

username1 omg Oscar sent her the cake?? What am I missing???

-> username2 RIGHT?? her dating her ex’s teammate would be an amazing revenge 😭

username3 the caption 💀

•

thatf1podcast here’s a sneak peek of our episode with the one and only Y/N Y/L/N 👀

view more comments

username1 I need all the teaaaaa 😏

yourusername it was a pleasure 🤭

username2 I NEED THIS EPISODE NOW

username3 I’m loving it 😌

•

tag list: @samantharaytanner @stressed-cherry @anamiad00msday @book-obsesseds-world @hurtblossom @tagteamedbitch @hoeforsirius @jxnellat @tillyt04 @danielshoe @tvdtw4ever @raynetargaryan2 @sadiemack9 @henna006 @wordesthatics @whosluce @mikaalvesreal @widow-cevans @honethatty12 @littlegrapejuice @bakingpiastries @ietss

- part 4 coming soon

[oh-phoenixx]

"Baby" - Jegulus microfic @into-the-jeggyverse - 396 words

-

Pet names, in Regulus’s opinion, were gross. Every time he heard his brother’s boyfriend call him ‘sweetheart’, he wanted to vomit. He had to leave the room whenever Evan and Barty were flirting because they did nothing but use disgusting pet names. 

James, on the other hand, loved pet names. He would call Regulus every pet name under the sun, not minding that Regulus only called him ‘James’ or ‘Jamie’ in return. Coming from anyone else, Regulus would have hated this. He would have been put off the entire relationship, really. 

“Morning, love,” James greets with a grin, kissing Regulus’s head and then sitting down next to him. 

It only takes two seconds for Barty to clock this and burst out laughing. “Sorry, did he just call you ‘love’?”

“Yes? What about it?” Regulus responded through gritted teeth and a glare. 

“Nothing, nothing, Mr. Pet-names-are-gross-and-I’ll-never-let-anyone-use-them-for-me,” Barty laughed.

James turned to Regulus, eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip jutting out. “You don’t like it when I call you ‘love’?”

“I-” Regulus looked between James and Barty, trying to decide if reassuring James was worth his humiliation. “It’s fine when it’s you,” he mumbled, hoping Barty couldn’t hear. 

James’s pout turned into a huge grin. He kissed Regulus’s jaw and nuzzled into his neck. And, yes, Regulus believed it was worth reassuring James, even though Barty was most definitely going to mock him for this later. 

Despite being okay with James calling him silly names (‘okay with’ is an understatement, to be honest), Regulus refused to do the same. He was Regulus Black, for Merlin’s sake. James was a perfectly acceptable name, and it was pushing it for Regulus to even call him ‘Jamie’. This is why it was a shock to both of them when, one morning:

“Baby, come back to bed,” Regulus whined tiredly.

James’s brain seemed to short-circuit for a moment, spinning around rapidly to look at Regulus. 

Regulus hid his face in the pillow, repeating, “I didn’t say that, I didn’t say that, I didn’t say that.”

James just tilted Regulus’s face towards his and kissed him, smiling so widely you’d think he’d won the Quidditch cup. This was worth the humiliation, too, Regulus thought, seeing James this happy.

If Regulus let the term slip out every now and then, most especially when he needed something or when James was angry, that could stay between them.

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER ELEVEN ━━ The Story of Us

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 5.8K

❀ ━ warnings: mentions of cheating

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: never date a penn state boy (i say this from experience)

JO FEELS her body move before her mind can fully catch up, her legs shaky as she pushes herself off the bed. The room feels suffocating, suddenly too small, too loud in its silence. Asher’s phone is still in her hand, the weight of it like a lead anchor pulling her into the crushing reality she can’t seem to process. Her fingers tighten around it, her knuckles white, but her face betrays nothing. Not yet.

“Asher,” she says, her voice calm, steadier than she expects, even though it feels like there’s venom in her blood, poisoning her. “Get your shoes on.”

He’s standing near the bedroom door, mid-step. Confusion flashes across his face, his brows furrowing. “What? Why?”

Jo meets his eyes. The familiar green she’s known her whole life. But then his gaze flickers down, just for a split second, to the phone in her hand, and she sees it—the faint, fleeting flicker of something that looks like realization. Panic, maybe. Guilt.

Her chest tightens, and she feels like she might choke on the sudden wave of nausea that rises in her throat. But she doesn’t let it show.

“Just… put your shoes on,” she repeats quietly, her voice still calm, still too steady. She doesn’t trust herself to say anything else yet.

Asher hesitates, his mouth opening like he might argue. But then he closes it again, his jaw tightening. He nods, moving toward the corner of the room where his sneakers lay. He doesn’t ask any more questions, but Jo can feel his unease growing with every passing second.

She starts to walk, leaving the bedroom to go put on her slippers near the apartment door. Her grip on the phone is still so tight that her hand aches, but she doesn’t let go. Her thoughts are loud, a deafening roar in her head, but at the same time, she feels hollow. Empty.

This isn’t real. It can’t be real.

The words keep looping in her mind, a desperate chant she clings to even as the truth sits in her hand, undeniable. She doesn’t want to do this. She doesn’t want to have this conversation, doesn’t want to fight, doesn’t want to see whatever’s written in his face when she says the words she knows she has to say.

She’s not a fighter. She never has been. She’s kind, and forgiving, and willing to let things slide because she hates conflict, hates the way it leaves scars on her heart and the hearts of the people she loves. But this? This is too big to let slide.

She thought she knew him. She thought he was hers.

Asher’s been her constant, her everything, for as long as she can remember. The boy next door who she used to finger paint with when they were kids. The boy who held her hand when she was anxious on the first day of middle school. The boy who kissed her for the first time in eighth grade, on one of the picnic tables at their neighborhood park.

He’s the only boy she’s ever thought about, ever wanted, ever loved. She built her future around him in her head—her dreams of getting married, of starting a life together, of building something that would last forever.

Forever.

The word feels bitter in her mouth now, a cruel joke. She can feel the cracks forming in her heart, the fissures that threaten to split her in half.

When Asher finally walks out of her bedroom, his shoes tied and on, he looks at her, his face unreadable. Jo avoids his gaze, focusing on the door instead. “Come on,” she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He follows her without a word, and they step out into the hallway, the soft click of the door closing behind them echoing in the stillness. They have to do this outside; Jo doesn’t want to wake up Paige.

The Jacobson girl stops a few steps from the door, turning to face Asher. She keeps her grip on his phone, her fingers trembling now despite her best efforts to stay composed. Asher stands there, his hand shoved into his pockets, his eyes darting between her face and the phone. She can see it in his posture now, the way his shoulders are tense, the way he’s chewing the inside of his cheek. He knows.

But he doesn’t say anything. He’s waiting for her to speak first, and for a moment, she almost can’t. She stares at him, her lips parted but no sound coming out, her throat tight and dry.

She doesn’t want to do this.

But she has to.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she takes a deep breath, the sound shaky and uneven in the quiet hallway. Her voice is soft, almost fragile, when she finally speaks.

“So, her name’s Brooke?”

The moment the words leave her mouth, Jo watches as Asher’s expression crumbles. His face twists, guilt flashing so obviously across his features that she doesn’t even need to hear him confirm it. But then he does, stumbling over his words in a rush to apologize.

“Jo, I—God, I messed up. It was a mistake, okay? It—it only happened once, I swear.”

For a second, she just stares at him, her mind short-circuiting as it processes the words. Her heart feels like it’s collapsing in on itself, cracking with every beat, and yet she somehow still finds the strength to blink back the tears threatening to spill over. She gives him a look then, one that she knows has to cut deep.

“Why are you still lying?” she asks, her voice quieter now, but sharper, trembling at the edges. “I looked through your texts. You’ve been seeing her since September.”

The tears in her eyes blur her vision slightly, but she can still see the way his face falls completely at her words. His mouth opens, like he’s about to defend himself, about to deny it or say something—anything—that might patch up the gaping wound he’s just ripped open. But no words come out. Jo can tell he’s scrambling now, reaching for an explanation, a lifeline, but nothing comes.

Jo lets out a small, bitter laugh that feels foreign to her, a sound so unlike the person she usually is. Her body feels cold, her chest hollow, like everything inside her has been scooped out and left her with nothing but this raw, gnawing ache.

Her voice wavers as she speaks again, the tears finally slipping free, her composure fracturing under the weight of it all. “If you wanted to break up for college, we could’ve. You could’ve just told me that long distance would be too hard and you wanted to see other people. I would’ve—I would’ve understood.” Her voice cracks at the end, and she hates how small she sounds, how stupid she feels. She’s giving him too much credit, too much grace, but she doesn’t know how to be any other way.

“You didn’t have to cheat on me,” she continues, her voice rising a little now, her hurt spilling over into anger, “and then—then pretend like you still love me.”

The tears come faster now, hot and unrelenting, but she doesn’t wipe them away. She lets them fall, lets him see the full weight of what he’s done.

Asher steps toward her then, closing the space between them, his hands reaching out as if to comfort her. “Jo,” he says desperately. “I do love you. I love you so much. I’m so fucking in love with you, okay? I just—” he pauses, choking before continuing, “—you weren’t around, and I was missing you so much, and you’ve been so busy with basketball—”

She steps back before he can touch her, shaking her head, her voice cutting through his excuses. “—when then gives you the right to have sex with another girl? To tell her she’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen?”

Her words seem to hit him like a physical blow, his face paling as he shuts up. Jo doesn’t stop, though. Her voice is sharp now, full of a fury she rarely ever allows herself to feel.

“I saw the texts,” she says again, now shoving the phone back into his hands. Her breath hitches as another sob escapes her throat. “It doesn’t really seem like you still love me when you’re talking to someone else like that.”

Jo feels the air in her lungs grow heavier. The hallway is too quiet, every sound—her shallow breaths, the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead—feels deafening in the stillness between them. Asher stares at her, his lips once again parting and closing uselessly, trying to find words that might somehow undo all of this.

“Jo, please,” he says finally, his voice thin and frantic, like he’s clutching at straws. “It didn’t mean anything—she doesn’t mean anything. I was lonely, okay? I was missing you so much, Jo, so much, and I just—I made a mistake. A huge mistake. But it doesn’t change how much I love you.”

His words hit her like a stab to the chest. The sheer audacity of them leaves her feeling sick, like her body can’t keep up with the reality of what’s happening.

“Why would anyone do this to someone they love?” she asks slowly.

Asher shakes his head, stepping toward her again, but Jo takes another step back, hitting the wall. She’s never felt so trapped—trapped between the ghost of what they were and the cruelness of what they’ve become.

“It wasn’t like that,” he says, his hands gesturing wildly, desperate to make her understand. “You were always on my mind, Jo. You’re always on my mind. But you weren’t there, and I was—God, I was so fucking stupid.”

Her chest tightens, a sob clawing it’s way up her throat. “You knew I wouldn’t be there!” she says loudly. “You knew since I committed nearly two years ago! That’s why I’m saying you could’ve just broken up with me before we both went to college instead of doing—this!” She gestures to the phone in his hand, the tears still spilling freely down her cheeks, mixing with her mascara. She probably looks insane.

Asher takes another step closer, and Jo flinches without meaning to. She sees the way his face crumples at her reaction.

“Jo, I’m sorry,” he says pleadingly. “I’ll do anything—anything to make it up to you. Please, baby, I’ll never talk to her again. I’ll block her, I’ll delete her number, I’ll—”

Jo cuts him off, shaking her head violently. “It’s not about Brooke!” she cries, the name tearing through her like glass. “It’s about you! It’s about the fact that you lied to me, that you betrayed me, that you’ve been doing this for months! It’s about the fact that you’ve made me feel like I’m not even enough for you anymore.”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says weakly.

Jo lets out a noise between a laugh and a sob. “Well, you did,” she tells him firmly.

She doesn’t know when she starts crying harder, but suddenly, her body is wracked with sobs, her chest heaving as everything she’s been holding in comes pouring out. She can hardly even breathe.

And then Asher’s dropping to his knees in front of her, his hands reaching for here. “Jo, baby, please,” he begs, tears forming in his own eyes. “Please, let me make it up to you. I’ll transfer if you want me to—I’ll come here, be closer. I just—I love you. I love you so much. I can’t lose you. I can’t lose us.”

His hands are warm against hers, but she barely feels it through the numbness creeping into her limbs. She stares down at him, her vision blurred with tears, and for a moment, she thinks about all the years they spent together. When they were younger, when they were older. Every moment, every memory—they flash before her eyes like a cruel montage of everything they’ll never be again.

Jo pulls her hands away from his, her chest aching like it’s being ripped in half. Her voice is small, barely above a whisper, but it’s absolute. “No matter what, I’ll never be able to trust you again,” she says, the finality of her words settling heavily between them. “I can’t have a relationship with no trust, Ash. I love you—I’ve always loved you—but I can’t do it. I can’t.”

The words ring out and, for a moment, they stay where they are. And then Jo turns and opens the door to the apartment. Her fingers tremble against the knob as she pushes it open, but she doesn’t stop. She can feel the way Asher stands from his knees behind her, hovering a mix of desperate and disbelief radiating off him like a suffocating heat. She steps inside, her legs feeling like jelly beneath her, and she doesn’t turn back to look at him when she hears his footsteps following her.

“Jo, please,” Asher says again, his voice cracking, the way it always does when he’s on the verge of tears. “Let’s just—keep talking, okay? I’ll do whatever you want, just… don’t do this.”

But there’s nothing left to talk about. Not now. Not after everything.

Jo’s head pounds as she crosses the room, her eyes scanning for the things he’ll need to leave. His coat is slung on the back of one of the chairs, and his keys and wallet sit on the table. She grabs both, her hands shaking, and turns back to him.

“Asher,” she says, raw and unsteady, “please.” She holds out the coat and keys to him, her arm outstretched like it’s the only way she can keep any distance between them. “If you love me like you say you do, please leave. Please.”

He doesn’t take them at first. He just stands there, staring at her with wide, red-rimmed eyes that make him look younger than he is, like the boy she used to know. Her next-door neighbor, the boy who used to race her to the ice cream truck every summer. The boy who brought her flowers from his mom’s garden the first time he asked her to a school dance in eighth grade, nervously holding them out to her like they were the most precious thing he’d ever touched. The boy who kissed her on the Ferris wheel, telling her he’d never seen anything prettier than the way the lights reflected in her eyes.

Jo thought that boy was perfect.

But now, that boy is clearly gone.

“So this is really it?” Asher asks, his voice barely a whisper. He finally takes the coat and keys from her, his movements slow, almost mechanical, like he’s not fully in his body. His words hang in the air, heavy and final, and Jo feels like they have hands and they’re suffocating her.

She bites her lip hard, the metallic tang of blood sharp on her tongue. A sob claws at her throat, but she swallows it down, refusing to let it out. Because—God—she doesn’t want this to be it. She doesn’t want to end this chapter of her life, doesn’t want to say goodbye to the person who’s been by her side through everything. She thinks about all the time they’ve spent together, the endless summers of childhood spent chasing fireflies in their backyards, the countless nights they stayed up late talking about everything and nothing. She thinks about the way he used to cheer for her at every basketball game, the way his laugh uses to make her feel like the world wasn’t so big and scary.

But then she thinks about the texts. Brooke. The lies. The betrayal. The pain of knowing that the person she loved most in the world didn’t love her enough to stay faithful. And she knows—she knows—that she can’t stay with him. Not after this.

So, with a terrible, gut-wrenching finality, Jo forces herself to meet his eyes. Seafoam. She’ll never look at them the same again. “Yeah,” she tells him. “It is.”

Asher flinches like she’s just slapped him, and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to say something else, like he’s going to keep fighting. But then his shoulders sag, and the fight leaves his body all at once. He nods slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, and the sheer heartbreak in his expression nearly undoes her.

Jo takes a shaky breath and steps toward the door, her movements stiff and unnatural, like her body doesn’t belong to her anymore. She holds the door open and watches as Asher hesitates, lingering in the threshold like he’s waiting for her to change her mind.

“Um,” she starts, staring at the floor, unable to meet his eyes anymore. “I’m not gonna be back in Boston for break. I’ll be on that ski trip with my family. So, uh, when they get back, you just… you get your stuff from the house and bring mine back to them, okay?”

For a long, excruciating moment, Asher just stands there, staring at her like he’s trying to memorize every detail of her face. Then, finally, he nods. “Okay,” he says quietly.

He steps out into the hallway, and Jo closes the door behind him with trembling hands. The moment the latch clicks into place, she presses her back against the door, her knees nearly buckling. She buried her face in her hands and keys the sobs come.

PAIGE LIES in Celeste’s bed, staring at the ceiling, her body tangled in soft sheets that smell faintly of sex and Celeste’s perfume. The room is dark except for the faint orange glow of the streetlamp outside the window, cutting through the blinds and casting uneven stripes across her skin. Celeste is already asleep, her breathing slow and steady beside her, an arm draped lazily over Paige’s stomach.

The weight of the arm feels suffocating. The room feels too still, too warm, and Paige can feel the alcohol from earlier churning in her stomach. She hadn’t realized how much she drank until she laid down, the world tilting slightly when she closed her eyes. She shifts uncomfortably, trying to focus on anything but the growing nausea.

Her phone sits on the nightstand, and she reaches for it, squinting at the brightness when the screen lights up. 3:08 AM. Jo and Asher should be asleep by now, she thinks. The thought is a small relief, though she hates that it’s on her mind at all. When she’d come here earlier—straight from Ted’s—it wasn’t just for Celeste’s company. It was to avoid them. Avoid the sight of them fueled up on the couch, or worse, the sound of them behind Jo’s closed bedroom door.

But lying here now, with the alcohol making her stomach roil and Celeste’s soft breathing only amplifying the pounding in her head, Paige knows she can’t stay. She hates being sick, hates it even more when it happens in someone else’s space.

Carefully, she moves Celeste’s arm off of her, sliding out of bed with practiced quiet. She pulls on her jeans and shirt, then her coat, then slips on her sneakers and grabs her phone. By the time she’s in the hallway, she’s regretting every drink she had tonight.

The walk back to the apartment feels endless. The streets are deserted, the air sharp and cold against her flushed skin. She shoves her hands into her coat pockets, her breath visible in the air. Her head spins with every step, her stomach twisting tighter and tighter until—without much warning—she’s doubled over, throwing her guts up into a bush. It’s humiliating, even though no one’s there to see it.

But after, she feels marginally better. Her legs are still shaky, and her throat burns, but the nausea ebbs, replaced by exhaustion. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, cursing herself under her breath, and resumes the walk home.

When she gets to the apartment, it’s quiet. Thank God. She lets herself in carefully, taking care not to let the door slam, and moves toward the bathroom in the dark. She brushes her teeth quickly before going to her bedroom. There, she toes off her shoes, drops her phone onto her own nightstand, and collapses into bed. The sheets are cold, her pillow soft, and she burrows into them, hoping sleep will come quickly.

It doesn’t.

Instead, Paige ends up staring at her phone, her thumb absently scrolling through TikTok, then Instagram, then TikTok again.

It’s probably a half hour later when she hears footsteps outside her room. She doesn’t think much of it, only registers that Jo and Asher are awake. She thinks she hears the apartment door open, but she can’t really tell. She just resumes her scrolling.

Maybe another twenty minutes pass before she hears the door reopen. There are voices this time, too—Jo and Asher’s. They’re too low to make out what they’re saying, but there’s something off about the tone.

Paige feels her stomach twist again, though this time it has nothing to do with alcohol.

She tries to ignore it, forcing herself to keep scrolling, but the voices continue. Then, suddenly, the sound of the apartment door shutting—loud enough to make her flinch.

Paige sits up in bed. She stares at her closed bedroom door, debating. Curiosity—and something heavier—wins out. Slowly, cautiously, she swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands.

The floor is cold beneath her bare feet as she crosses to the door. She hesitates for a moment, hand on the knob, before turning it and pulling the door open. She steps into the hallway, walking slowly at first, unsure of what to expect. But as she rounds the corner, the sight in front of her makes her heart twist painfully in her chest.

Jo is pressed against the front door, her back flat against it as though it’s the only thing keeping her upright. Her face is buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling with sobs that Paige can hear from a few feet away. The sound cuts through her like a knife, raw and unrelenting.

Paige’s stomach drops, dread pooling deep and cold inside her. She can count on one hand the number of times she’s seen Jo cry, and not even the panic attack she had before the first game of the season looked like this. The sight freezes her for a second, but then she’s moving, instinctively, her feet carrying her closer without hesitation.

“Joey,” Paige says softly, her voice a little unsteady as she steps in front of her. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

She hates seeing Jo like this, hates the helplessness it churns up in her. Jo’s supposed to sunshine and rainbows and butterflies and happiness. Seeing her like this, crumpled and sobbing, feels wrong, like the world has tilted off its axis.

Paige notices, too, that Asher is nowhere to be found, and her stomach knots tighter at the implication. There are only a few reasons why Jo would be crying like this in the middle of the night, and Paige doesn’t like any of the possibilities running through her mind.

She steps closer, only inches away from Jo. She gently reaches out to tug Jo’s hands away from her face. The brunette resists at first, her fingers curling tighter, as if she’s trying to shield herself from the world. But Paige persists, her touch gentle but firm, until Jo lets her pull them down.

She looks wrecked, utterly and completely undone. Her mascara is streaked across her cheeks, smudging into the skin where her tears have carved wet paths. Her lips are trembling, and her eyes—red-rimmed and glassy—hold a look of devastation that Paige has never seen before.

Paige’s stomach drops a little. This isn’t just a bad night. This is something worse.

“Joey,” Paige says again, her voice soft but coaxing. “Joey, talk to me. What happened?”

Jo shakes her head violently, fresh tears spilling over her cheeks. “I feel so stupid,” she chokes out.

Paige’s protective instincts kick in hard, a fierce surge of anger and worry burning in her chest. Jo is her best friend, and Paige can’t stand seeing her like this, so small and hurt and vulnerable. It makes her want to fix it, to fix everything, to hunt down whatever or whoever made Jo feel like this and give them a piece of her mind.

“You’re not stupid,” Paige says quickly, her hands moving to Jo’s face. She cups her cheeks gently, her thumbs brushing over the tears as they fall, even though it’s futile. The tears keep coming, harder and faster, and Jo’s sobs are so harsh now that Paige worries she’s going to make herself sick.

“Jo,” Paige whispers, her tone soothing, steady. “Joey, you’re not stupid. Just tell me what happened. Please.”

Jo looks at her then, and the brokenness in her expression hits Paige like a tidal wave. Jo’s breaths are short and uneven, catching in her throat as she struggles to speak. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she manages to force out a choked answer:

“He’s been cheating on me since September.”

Paige isn’t sure how to react at first. Not because she doesn’t care—no, she cares too much—but because it feels incomprehensible. Asher? Cheating? On Jo? It’s like trying to convince herself the sky isn’t blue or that the sun doesn’t rise in the east. Jo is the kind of person who radiates light, who gives more than she takes, who makes everyone around her better by simply existing. The idea that anyone—anyone, let alone Asher, who Jo has loved since they were kids—could betray her like this? Paige’s chest tightens, a painful knot forming deep inside her.

“Oh, Joey,” Paige says softly, her voice breaking. She steps forward without thinking, wrapping her arms around Jo and pulling her in close. Jo is stiff at first, her body trembling like she’s holding herself together by a thread. But then she leans into Paige, her arms coming around her back, and she crumples completely.

The sobs come harder now, racking Jo’s body as she buries her face in Paige’s shoulder. Paige can feel her shirt dampening with tears, but she doesn���t care. Not even a little. All that matters is keeping Jo held together in this moment when she clearly feels like she’s falling apart. Paige’s chin rests against Jo’s hair, and she squeezes her tighter, as if that might somehow protect her from all of this—might take away the pain.

Her mind flashes to Asher, and the anger that surges through her is immediate, white-hot, and consuming. How the fuck could he do this? Asher, who seemed to adore Jo, who, just earlier tonight, had looked at her like the world revolved around her. He’s the guy everyone thought Jo would marry, the guy Paige didn’t want to like because of her own feelings for Jo but begrudgingly respected because he seemed like he loved her. Paige’s fists clench at the thought of him, the betrayal he’s inflicted on someone so good, so perfect.

Jo pulls back just enough to speak, her voice trembling through the sobs. “I just—I don’t get it,” she chokes out. Her hands are fisted in the back of Paige’s shirt now, clutching at her like she’s a lifeline. “He never seemed like—he would do that. He was never distant or anything. I—I don’t know. It’s just—it’s been us forever. He’s—he’s literally all I know.”

Paige closes her eyes for a moment, biting back her own emotions. She knows this—of course she knows this. Jo and Asher are the couple everyone compares themselves to, the pair who grew up together, who went to prom together, who everyone thought would get married and have a picturesque life together. Paige knows this betrayal isn’t just about the cheating—it’s about the loss of something Jo has held onto her entire life.

And as much as Paige didn’t want to like Asher, she can’t deny that even tonight, when they were all together, he seemed so in love with Jo. He didn’t seem like the type to cheat. Then again, Paige thinks bitterly, a lot of them don’t.

Paige hesitates, her voice careful. “Did you…?” She doesn’t have to finish the question; Jo knows what she’s asking.

Jo nods against Paige’s shoulder, her tears warm against Paige’s skin. “Yeah,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I broke up with him.”

Paige lets out a slow breath, one she didn’t realize she was holding. She always thought if this moment ever came, she’d feel something else—relief, maybe even happiness. She thought it would mean she finally had a chance with Jo, that the door might crack open. But as Jo sobs in her arms, as her heartbreak bleeds out into the quiet hallway, Paige feels none of that.

Because Jo isn’t happy. She’s broken, and Paige would rather suffer her unrequited feelings forever than see Jo like this. All she’s ever truly wanted is for Jo to be happy, to be the kind of happy that lights up her eyes and makes her laugh the way she does when she’s teasing Paige. This? This is not that.

Paige pulls back just enough so they’re face to face. Her hands come up to Jo’s cheeks once more, cradling her face gently. Jo’s eyes are red and swollen, tears still spilling over. Paige’s thumbs brush over her cheeks, wiping away some of the tears, though they’re still coming faster than she can catch them.

“Joey,” Paige says softly, her voice low and firm, “you are the most beautiful, selfless, talented, smart person I’ve ever fucking met. You don’t deserve any of this, okay? He doesn’t deserve you. Not even close.” She shakes her head slightly, her throat tightening as she continues. “I’m so sorry, Jo.”

Jo nods slowly, her breath hitching as she tries to calm down, but the tears are still there, streaming down her face.

Eventually, Paige convinces Jo to come with her, leading the brunette to her bedroom, keeping a steady hand on the small of her back as they navigate the dark hallway. Paige can feel the exhaustion radiating off of her in waves—emotional, physical, every kind of tired there is. She figures Jo doesn’t want to go to her own room, where everything probably still smells like Asher. And Paige figures Jo doesn’t want to be alone, either. That much is obvious in the way she stays close, almost leaning into Paige as they walk.

Once inside Paige’s room, Jo hesitates by the bed, looking small in a way Paige isn’t used to seeing. Jo’s always been the kind of person who fills up a space just by being in it—confident, easygoing, happy. Now, she’s quiet and folded into herself, arms crossed protectively over her chest like she’s trying to hold herself together. Paige doesn’t like it.

“Stay here for a sec, yeah?” Paige says softly, her voice careful, like she’s afraid to push Jo too far or say the wrong thing. Jo nods, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and Paige slips out of the room.

She goes to the bathroom first, grabbing some makeup wipes from the cabinet. Her mind races as she moves, filled with anger toward Asher, with concern for Jo, with guilt that a small, selfish part of her is glad to have Jo here, with her, instead of with him.

On her way back, she detours into Jo’s room just long enough to grab the emotional support stuffed animal—Bubbles. She tucks the little turtle under her arm and heads back to her room.

Jo hasn’t moved. She’s still sitting there, looking at her hands, the way her fingers twist together nervously. Paige kneels in front of her, setting Bubbles aside for now. She doesn’t say anything at first; she just takes one of the makeup wipes and gently starts to clean the streaks of mascara from Jo’s face. Jo blinks in surprise, a ghost of a smile flickering across her lips.

“I could’ve done it myself,” Jo mumbles, her voice thick and uneven.

“I know,” Paige says simply, and there’s the smallest hint of a smile tugging at her own lips.

It’s a quiet, intimate thing, wiping away Jo’s makeup. Paige works slowly, carefully, brushing over her skin with a tenderness she hopes Jo can feel. When she’s finished, she tosses the wipes aside into her mini trash can and hands Jo the stuffed turtle.

Jo takes Bubbles with both hands, clutching him close to her chest. There’s a tiny moment of relief in Paige’s chest when Jo actually smiles a little at the sight of him. It’s fleeting, but it’s there.

Paige climbs onto the bed beside her, hesitating for a second. The air between them feels heavy, uncertain. Jo curls up on her side, facing away from Paige, and for a moment, Paige wonders if she should leave her alone, give her space. But before she can decide, Jo’s voice breaks through the silence, shaky and fragile.

“Can you—can you just hold me?”

Paige’s heart clenches. Of course. Of course, she can. “Yeah,” she says softly, already shifting closer.

She slides in behind Jo, wrapping an arm around her waist. Her hand comes to rest gently on Jo’s stomach, fingers brushing over the fabric of her shirt in smooth, soothing patterns. Paige doesn’t think much about it; she just does what feels natural. Her face ends up close to the back of Jo’s neck, and she can feel the faint hitch in Jo’s breathing, the way it stutters each time another quiet sob escapes her.

Every time Jo shakes or cries, Paige instinctively tightens her hold, pulling her closer, letting her know she’s there. Jo doesn’t say anything else, and neither does Paige. The silence is filled with the faint rustle of the blankets, the sound of their breathing.

Paige focuses on the rise and fall of Jo’s chest, on the feeling of her heartbeat beneath her hand. It’s comforting, in a way, even though everything about the situation feels wrong. Jo deserves better than this—better than Asher, better than heartbreak. And if Paige could take it all away, if she could somehow absorb all of Jo’s pain just to see her smile again, she would.

But all she can do is hold her, keep her safe in this moment. So she does. She stays there, tracing patterns on Jo’s stomach, her own breathing falling in time with Jo’s. Eventually, Jo’s crying slows, her breaths evening out into something softer, something closer to sleep. Paige doesn’t let go.

She feels her own eyelids growing heavy, the exhaustion of the day—and mostly the night—catching up to her. She doesn’t remember exactly when she drifts off, but the last thing she’s aware of is the warmth of Jo in her arms, the quiet sound of her breathing, and the hope that maybe things will feel a little better in the morning.

[thechaoticcherub]

Sheep Keeping Age

Pairing: Jackson!Friends Dad!Joel Miller x innocent reader

Summary: Joel keeps the flock of sheep in Jackson, you and Ellie become friends, partially because you think it's cute that he keeps sheep.

Warnings: 18+, explicit content, innocence kink, virgin!reader, big age gap(around 40 years), old!joel miller, frustrated!joel miller, some (very) light manhandling, edging, fingering, dirty talk, no use of y/n, pet names, farming, ellie briefly, pussy pronouns

Notes: My first Joel fic! I hope you like it! this isn't really proofread and def not beta read so sorry but that's just how i roll. Ten thousand cherub points to anyone who knows what the title references.

Word count: 4.4 K

🎀👼🏻Home | Ask | Masterlist👼🏻🎀

The first week after you became friends with Ellie, you hung out with her in the garage of her dad, well, her Joel’s house. She was in the process of fixing it up to be her apartment and you had agreed to help her move some stuff around. You had caught sight of Joel through the window of the garage, he was in the paddock just past his house where Jackson’s sheep were kept. He was carrying a bucket of water to fill their trough and stopping to rub one of the sheep that followed after him behind the ears while they all brayed at him. Joel was really good looking for an older guy, broad through his shoulders and chest with a lined and deeply etched but handsome face. His hair was peppered with grey and there was something about his prominent nose and jaw that made you want to stare. You had seen him at other times in Jackson, from across the mess hall when he came in looking for his brother while a movie played in the evening. You had watched him then, your eyes tracking his movements across the building instead of paying attention to the projector screen. You had seen him at the pub, late in the evening when you’d go in to play cards with friends, he would be sitting at the bar with Tommy, drinking and talking in low voices. You had always been friendly, saying “hi Mr. Miller!” all brightly, smiling and sweet. Every time he would give you an awkward ‘’llo’” and then look away as if you were dangerous to look at for too long. You had always found him attractive, but he continuously hurt your feelings. 

“Why are you staring at Joel?” Elli asked, knocking you from your thoughts as you stared out the window. 

“Oh I just didn’t realize he took care of the sheep,” You said, making up an excuse. Ellie snorted with brief laughter, 

“Honestly, I think the sheep are the old fucker’s best friends. He definitely likes them more than probably anyone else.” She said, glancing out the window. 

“It’s kinda sweet,” You said, “Shows he isn’t just a closed off asshole,” You finished. Ellie shrugged, “Orrr it means he’s really closed off. Come help me move this desk,” She said.  

The second week after you became friends with Ellie, it had really started to feel like springtime around Jackson and you had walked over to see if Ellie was home. When she hadn’t answered your knocks on the door into the garage, you had wandered around the back of the building towards the paddock. You spotted Joel by the barn, so you put your foot up on the wooden fence and swung your leg over before hopping down and walking over. 

“Hey Mr. Miller!” You called as you approached him, he glanced over and then quickly looked away, as if the sight of you had burned him or something. 

“Hey,” His voice was gruff and short, “You lookin’ for Ellie?” He asked. You walked up to him and shrugged, “I was, she’s not here though, is she?” You asked. 

“Nope. On Patrol with Tommy,” He told you. It sounded like a dismissal, like you should leave. There was a sheep laying against the side of the barn, her breathing was a little heavy and Joel crouched down next to her, feeding her out of the palm of his hand. His forehead was pinched in worry. You didn’t want to be dismissed. You had come all the way to the house and you liked animals. Maybe you could learn how to help with the sheep and if that meant getting to spend a little more time around Joel then so be it. 

“Is something wrong with her?” You asked, crouching down next to Joel and reaching out to touch the sheep’s back, giving her a pat. Joel shifted so he wasn’t close to touching you, and glanced over at you, 

“Nothin’ wrong, jus’ pregnant and ready to be done I ‘spose,” Joel said. You immediately cooed, 

“Aww there’s going to be lambs soon?” you asked, excited, you turned your head to look at Joel, your fingers still in the sheeps slightly dirty wool. You watched as he nodded, “Yup, hopefully not too long,” he said, he looked over at you and it was as if he hadn’t been expecting you to be looking at him. He looked a little startled to meet your eyes, you watched as his eyes moved from yours to your cheeks, a little pink from the cool spring air, to your lips, slightly pursed as you watched him. “Look, darlin’,” he stood up suddenly and the movement almost knocked you backwards into the mud. Him calling you ‘darlin’ got your heart fluttering and your cheeks flushing. “I can tell Ellie you stopped by later if you-”

“I can help with the lambs when they come!” You interjected. “I love animals and I bet I could be a big help with the sheep, I’d love to learn about it.” you told him hopefully. Joel’s eyes moved over your eager face, his brow was pinched in that familiar concern. It was like he was thinking of ways to reject you. You didn’t understand, was he really just this anti-social or was it something about you specifically? You had seen him talking to other people just fine, while he wasn’t the friendliest person he made  conversation with them, but ever since the first time you met Joel he hadn’t wanted to talk to you for long. And it wasn’t like he just didn’t pay attention to you, you had seen him looking at you almost as much as you had caught yourself staring at him. You would turn your head while talking to someone in the town square and he would be looking at you, as if you irritated him. You had once briefly thought maybe he was looking at you because he thought you were pretty but the fact that he never said more than a couple words to you dissuaded you of that.

“I dunno, I’m guessin’ there’s better things a girl like you-” 

“Oh come on, Mr. Miller! I want to help out!” You grinned at him and for a split second, his face cleared of concern and he looked ten years younger but then the almost frustrated look was back but he shrugged, “Alright, if that’s what ya want,” He said. 

The fourth week after you became friends with Ellie, the sheep had been born and you had spent every day since at the paddock behind the Miller house. Joel had shown you all around the sheep barn, told you about their schedules, and taught you a lot but mostly you snuggled the newborn lambs while he did the heavy lifting. You had gotten him to stitch a few sentences together to you and even joked with him occasionally, 

“Not sure why I let ya keep comin’ back if i’m going to be the only one haulin’ the shit,” He had said one afternoon while you sat on one of the rails of the wooden fence, cradling a lamb in your arms, one booted foot swinging back and forth and he cleaned out the stalls in the barn. 

“Don’t pretend like you don’t like my company, Mr. Miller!” You called to him, rubbing the lamb under his chin. Joel snorted as he came out of the barn, 

“I’d like it better if you did some chores,” he said, “Instead of snuggling the babies and then leavin’ me out here the second Ellie comes home.” it had sounded harsh but you could see the light in his eyes. He may tease you about helping but he hadn’t ever insisted you pick up a shovel.  You blushed,

“Do you miss me when I leave ya, Mr. Miller?” You asked boldly, eyes shining with mischief as you looked over at him. 

“I told ya to call me, Joel, darlin’” He said, not answering your question. 

One day that week you had shown up in a dress, it had been too warm for jeans, and snuggling lambs wasn’t such hard work that you needed to wear work clothes. When Joel saw you walking up in boots and a floaty cotton dress he had rolled his eyes,

“We’re droppin all pretenses now, aint we?” He asked. 

“I don’t know what you mean, Mr Miller” You answered lightheartedly as you climbed up and over the fence. You knew he had wanted you to call him Joel, but the way Mr. Miller slid off your tongue like honey was too good to pass up.  Joel’s eyes raked over you as you threw a leg over the fence and hopped down, your dress fluttering around your thighs. 

“Mhm,” he said. “You go prancing around town like this a lot?” he asked, you looked over at him, his eyes had darkened slightly and you wondered if it pissed him off that you hadn’t even come dressed like you could do work if he needed you to. 

“No? I mean…I wear dresses sometimes,” You admitted, “You know that,” you added. He had seen you in dresses before, not that you thought he had noticed. He raised his eyebrows and said nothing, going back to his work. You spent the afternoon with the lambs and their mother, taking them farther out into the paddock to let their mother eat the clover there while you bottle fed the two babies. You caught Joel looking over at you three times that day. Once he was stopped just outside the barn and watching as you knelt in the grass in front of one of the lambs, you had felt his eyes on you so you made sure you smiled and looked cute while you fed the lamb with the bottle. You wanted him to look at you, you wanted your wildest fantasies of Joel Miller thinking you were pretty to come true. Finally you allowed yourself to turn and catch him looking, when he saw you look back at him he hurriedly kept working. 

The second time, you were bent over, picking up one of the lambs and when you straightened up, your cheeks flushed as you caught Joel staring at you from just a few yards away. You realized you had probably shown off too much when you bent over, your underwear might have even been peeking out. Mortified it was you who broke away from this gaze, you refused to look back up until you could hear Joel open the door to the equipment shed. 

The last time was when you were leading the lambs and their mother sheep back towards the barn, you were going to go home soon and you were twisting the hem of your dress around your finger over and over again, pulling it shorter and shorter absentmindedly. You were focused on the lambs, hurrying them along when you turned and noticed Joel filling a bucket with water at a spigot, it was unmistakable that his eyes were on your legs. You knew your body shouldn’t warm at the thought of him looking at you like that. He was the father of a good friend of yours. He was at least 40 years older than you. You hadn’t meant to try and show off to him but what if he thought you were just that type of girl now? What he thought shouldn’t matter to you, but it did and so when he looked up and noticed you had caught him looking again, you were the one who looked away in shame even though it should have been him. 

Once you got the lambs and their mother put into their stall in the barn you came out and looked around for Joel. He was standing by the fence, leaning against it and watching the sun slowly begin to sink behind the mountains. You wandered over to him and stood next to him, you could smell him when you stood so close. Something like heady leather, rich coffee beans and the tang of the outdoors and man. You wanted to bury your nose in his shoulder to keep smelling it. 

“Mr. Miller-” You started to say but before you could apologize for wearing a dress, for not doing enough chores, for anything you might have done to upset him, ever, he grabbed your upper arm, turning so you were the one pushed up against one of the fence posts. His hand dropped from your arm to your hip, keeping you snug against the wood. The movement knocked the wind out of you, your mouth fell open and you let out a little, oof. 

“Knock it off with that Mr. Miller shit,” Joel breathed. His body was so close to you, one of his legs wedged between yours, his large hand tight on your hip, pressing through the fabric of your dress and squeezing your flesh. 

“I’m sor-” “Don’t say it.” He growled, “You come to my house lookin’ like-” he cut himself off, his eyes moving down your frame, raking over every bit of you, making you feel even more exposed than you already did. His lips twisted in what seemed like it was distaste, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. “Next time you come over here, you better go back to being a good girl and wear jeans or somethin’ otherwise I’ll be fixin’ to do somethin’ I’ll regret.” His voice was dangerous and it set something boiling in you. You stared up at him, eyes wide, unsure. Joel’s dark eyes felt like flames as they stared down at you, scorching you, tearing at you. You wanted to be a good girl, but even more than that, you wanted him to do that thing he’d regret,

“But, Mr. Miller-” The words slipped out of you, and you couldn’t finish the sentence before his hand found your jaw. His thumb pressed into one cheek, his fingers pressed into the other, making you look up at him.

“Enough of that.” he said. “Don’t let me catch you in a dress like that again.” He said and it sounded like nothing but a challenge. He pushed you back slightly as he took a step away from you and then turned and left you there in the darkening paddock. 

The fifth week you were friends with Ellie, you wore a dress every single day but Joel hid for you. He signed up for Patrol on the day you were supposed to go to help with the sheep. He was never at the pub or the mess hall at the same time as you. You spent time with Ellie in the converted garage, talking about friends, about Ellie’s girlfriend, and you tried your absolute hardest not to ask her about Joel and whether or not he had asked about you. You stayed late at her place, playing cards,  and when you lost your third hand of Egyptian Ratscrew you decided to head home. As you were saying goodbye, you noticed a light flick on in Joel’s place. Your heart skipped at least two beats and as soon as Ellie’s door closed, leaving you in darkness, your feet changed course from the road that lead back to the mainstreet of town and to the nearby house. You walked along the driveway and to the front door where there was less of a chance of Ellie seeing you than the back door. You weren’t even sure what you were going to do when he answered the door, what reason you were possibly going to give for coming to his house late at night, the instant you saw that he was home but your feet led you to the door anyway and before you knew it, you were knocking. 

When Joel answered the door you looked exhausted and wary, his expression turned to something you couldn’t quite recognize the second he saw you standing there, booted toes pressed together, thin dress still swishing around your thighs from your movement. Maybe the expression was irritation, maybe it was shock, maybe it was hunger. 

“Mr. Miller,” You said, testing it in your mouth, unsure of what words would come next even as you spoke. You didn’t have an excuse. The title served as a propellant, something that burned fast and hot, sending Joel careening into you. He took one step over the threshold of the door, towering above you and then grabbed both your forearms and tugged you hard. Your immediate reaction was to try and put your arms up to push him back but he held you firm and gave you a little shake,

“I told you not to let me catch you wearing a dress again, little girl.” He said. You struggled with him for a second, trying to shake your forearms out of his grip, but it was no use and you didn’t really want to anyway. You stuttered for a second,

“I’m…I’m sorry, Mr. Miller,” The honeyed burn of that caused him to drag you over the threshold of his front door and slam it behind him. 

“You’re gunna be, darlin’” Joel dragged you through the entryway of the house and into the kitchen. He pushed you back into the counter, his body pressing into you again, his breath against your face. “You really think you can just be flirtin’ with me, tease me for weeks and then show up at my house in the middle of the night when I’ve been doin’ my damn best to avoid you?” 

You wanted to say you hadn’t meant to tease him, you hadn’t thought you were flirting, but thinking back on it, you had always gone out of your way to say hi. You had fluttered your eyelashes at him, and flipped your hair. Had you been that blatant? “N-no! I didn’t mean-” You started but you couldn’t even finish it. 

“You just a little slut, is that it?”Joel asked, his hands started to bunch up your dress around your hips. You gasped. No, you weren’t a slut, you hadn’t ever had sex. You hadn’t ever had a boyfriend. You hadn’t wanted to make any time for the boys in Jackson but you had been wanting Joel for a while. You tried to protest but again, the words died in your throat before they could come out because Joel was holding your dress bunched up in one hand while running a thick finger along the waistband of your underwear. “Is this what you’ve been wanting?” He breathed, his forehead was pressed into yours, you could feel his hot breath and his body pressing into yours. Yes, you did want it, but admitting that was admitting you had been acting this way specifically to get it.

“N-No!” You whined, pressing your back against the counter, trying to get away from his prying fingers but also desperately wanting it. “J-Joel!” You gasped as his hand pushed into your underwear, his fingers dipped into your slick folds, his middle finger slid up the seam of your pussy. When he reached the crest of your labia, his fingers seamlessly found your clit and tapped it, sending a spasm of pleasure through you. As quickly as he had shoved his hand into your underwear, he pulled it out, holding it up in front of your face to show off his fingers coated in your slick.

“Does this seem like no, to you, little darlin?” He asks, his voice sardonic. Your brow furrows as you look at your own juices coating his fingers. 

“Joel, I-I’ve never-” You whine and squirm where you’re standing, not sure how to say it, suddenly nervous this will all stop if you tell him. Joel reaches up with the hand that had so painfully briefly been touching your slit and cups your chin, surprisingly gentle,

“Never what, baby? Come on, spit it out, little girl.” His voice is husky, he leans in towards you, his nose pressing into the hollow of your cheek. 

“I’ve never been touched like…like that,” You manage to blurt out and Joel’s whole body seems to pause. For a moment you think he’s going to stop, he’s going to push you away and tell you to get lost, that you’re too young. But then the hand cupping your chin tightens and you feel his sharp, scratchy stubble against your cheek as he gives you a wet kiss there. He pulls back,

“Aint no one but me’s ever got the pleasure of touchin’ that pretty pussy?” he asks, there was a smile in his voice and you relax a little, he wasn’t about to shove you away. You shake your head slowly, looking up at him, your eyes meeting his. “Well, I should get proper acquainted with her then, shouldn’t I?” The words made everything in your body feel wobbly, like liquid sloshing around. His hands grab your hips and lift you backwards onto the counter. Joel shoves your knees apart and his fingers drag up your thigh towards your undies. You watch as his head tilts down to look between your bodies, his fingers moving to hook into the side of your underwear and pull them aside. Nerves make you try and clamp your legs shut and push him back, whining his name in protest at him looking at your naked sex. 

“Aw, sweetheart, I just want a little peek at her,” He convinces softly, you still whine but let his hands pry your thighs apart. His hand slips down your leg to your ankle and grabs it, pushing it back so your heel is pressed into the counter and your legs are splayed open, your body leaning back slightly. Your heart races, the idea of being exposed to his eyes is too much, you know you’re soaking through your underwear and now he can see that. Joel looks down over your undies and slowly lets go of your ankle, making sure you’ll keep it there. His pointer finger slides down your thigh to your undies, very carefully pulling them to the side, his eyes drinking up the view. “ohh, pretty girl,” he says. “You’re soakin’ for me, darlin.” He says, his eyes flick up to your face. Your whole face is red with embarrassment and desire. Joel brings his thumb up to his mouth, licks it and strokes your clit. Your breath catches in your throat, your heart hammers. All the times you had tried to touch yourself had never even come close to the way this felt. You let out a moan, your head falling back against your shoulders. 

Joel watches his thumb circle your clit, setting a steady, dizzying pace. “Good girl,” Joel said as you mewl out moans. Your body is blazing with pleasure, you can feel yourself dripping, you had never been wet like this before and it’s all because of his thumb softly circling around your clit, barely grazing it and then flicking over it in a mesmerizing pattern.  “Look at her,” Joel says with a short chuckle, “She keeps getting wetter.” His gaze fixed on your pussy and you let out a string of whines. 

Your orgasm is starting to build, you can feel it burning inside you, growing and pulsing, so close but not quite there yet.  Joel’s thumb strokes over your clit and your breath catches in your throat,

“You close, little darlin?” He asked, “I can see your cunt clenching on nothing….she needs something in her, doesn’t she?” You nod vigorously, unable to talk, unable to form a coherent thought. You didn’t care that you had never had anything inside of you, you needed his thick fingers. Your eyes open and look down at him, his face is tilted down, examining your sex, his grey peppered hair pushed back away from his face. His eyes move up to meet yours,

“Beg me for it, sweetheart.” he says, his eyes dark with lust. Your mouth falls open, your brow furrows and you shake your head, 

“C-can’t.” You whined, pressing your hips forward towards his finger as it continues its slow calculated pace of stroking your clit. 

“Yes you can, beg me to fill you up. Your poor, soaking pussy needs it, darlin. Come on, use those words I know you have.” He coaxed. You had never felt so filthy, you wanted to beg for his thick fingers in your virgin pussy but you couldn’t find the words, your brain was mush. “Beg.” he instructed. You whined, feeling like you were going insane and finally the words tumbled out of you,

“Please…please, please fill me up. Finger me, J-Joel. I need it in my pussy. Oh god, please, I’m soaking for it, she needs your fingers in her, please, Joel!” You babbled and whined as his thumb continued to stroked around and around your clit, occasionally swiping over it, bringing you closer and closer to that building orgasm. 

“Say, ‘please finger fuck me, Mr. Miller.’” He instructed, his middle finger notching itself at your entrance, not quite pushing in, just teasing your hole. 

“ughhhh!! Please! Please finger fuck me, Mr. Miller!” You moaned out, louder than you thought you were capable of. Joel let out a satisfied chuckle but instead of pushing that middle finger into your eager hole, his whole hand moved away from your throbbing sex. He delicately took the side of your undies and replaced them back over your swollen sex. 

“Wha- oh god…no! Joel!” You whined, pressing your hips forward, your cunt clenching on nothing. 

“Nuh-uh,” Joel said, looking over your face, smirking. “You spent weeks teasing me.”

“I didn’t know I was-” “Bullshit, little darlin’” Joel said. “‘Please, Mr. Miller can I please spend all my time at your house caring for the cute little lambs, bending over and dressin’ like a slut’” He mimicked you meanly and raised his eyebrow at you. “If you’re going to act like a naughty girl, I’m going to treat you like a naughty little girl.” He said, leaning down to be level with you. You stared at him, feeling like you might go completely crazy. You opened your mouth and then closed it again. Joel pressed his lips to yours in a soft, chaste kiss. When he pulled away he touched your nose, 

“Say ‘thank you, Mr. Miller.’” he insisted. 

“Thank you, Mr. Miller,” You mumbled, dazed. 

“Good girl, will you come check on the lambs tomorrow?” he asked, his eyes twinkling. “Ellie is on patrol all day.” Joel stroked his finger down the bridge of your nose. You gazed up into his eyes and nodded. 

“Yup, I really think sheep keeping is super interesting.” You said, still dazed and needy.

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 8, A moment of bliss

Masterlist Word count: 3.5 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Author's note: Hi everyone. Enjoy Sylus being a switch/bottom for this one. He won't be for every chapter, but he's desperate and you've been waiting for this sooooo... I do want to remind everyone that this is my first time writing a smutty story. I hope it makes sense. <3

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, mentions of domestic abuse, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

'And then he slept over,' you tell Zayne over the phone and quickly add, 'we just cuddled. It was nice.' He doesn't need to say anything for you to know he disapproves. Just wait, he'll tell you that you shouldn't invite men you don't know over to your apartment. Especially not types like Sylus. 

'That's nice. He deserves something good in his life.' "What?!" 'Are you still there?' You probably stayed silent with your jaw on the floor a little too long. Maybe you shouldn't be too surprised. When you showed Zayne a picture of Sylus he looked physically pained, but not in a fearful way. It was empathetic. 

'Yes, yes, I'm still here, sorry. I expected you to lecture me on inviting strange men into my apartment,' you admit. 

'I would, but I know this man. I think he's a good one,' Zayne admits, 'I'm glad you ran into him. Seems the type for you.' Fair enough. Zayne has listened to you whine about men often enough to be glad you're finally actually like one. There's a knock at your door and a rush of nerves goes through your system. 

'Oh, that must be him,' you tell Zayne, 'I'll call you later, okay? We still need to set a date for our annual trip.' 

'Sure. I'll talk to you later.' His voice sounds amused, almost like he's smiling through the phone. You feel a little flustered. He probably picked up on your tone change when you heard the knocks on the door. 

'Bye.' You put your phone in your pocket and walk towards the door, stopping in front of the hallway mirror to check yourself one last time. Outfit, comfy but cute. Hair, eh, good enough. Makeup, minimal but nice. You pull the door open to reveal Sylus in a barely buttoned black blouse and slacks. Now you feel awfully underdressed in your jeans. Are you sure you agreed on dinner and a movie at his place? This looks like he's taking you to a 3-star dining and rented the whole cinema. 

But, you should have known he was going to be dressed like that. After all, it was the same outfit he wore in his newest video. The one he posted today, earlier than he usually does. In a way, you feel like he did it to tease you. Especially since it wasn't all that erotic. It was just him sitting back against the headboard of his bed with a book in his hand, reading the most utterly horny smutty chapter you've ever heard in your damn life. It nearly made you fall off your chair running to your room to masturbate, but you decided against it. The night's still young after all. 

The chapter stuck with you though. Because it wasn't all that horny because of the actual sex happening, but more because of the love between the characters. To be desired so carnally, to be loved so openly, is a fucking turn on. 

'You look beautiful,' he notes, taking all of your thoughts away with one look. The way his eyes rake over you, you feel like you're a marble statue in a museum. Loved, admired, valued, but most of all, beautiful. A blush spreads on your cheeks. 

'Thank you. You look nice too.' 

'Just nice?' 

'Stunning.' The nerves don't calm down and you're not sure why. You've already had him in your bed, you kissed him, cuddled him, let him... Why are you blushing at the thought of it now? Is it because this is a proper date? It's not even that serious. It's just dinner and a movie at his place. 

'Ready?' He offers you his arm. You nod and place your hand on his forearm. It's awfully proper, but it does feel very nice to be treated so respectfully. 

'I have to say, I was expecting a kiss,' you admit. He grins and leans down to press a soft kiss on your lips. Nothing special, just a gentle greeting from a lover. 

A lover? No, more than that. It feels like home. Like you've been kissing his lips for years, but the spark is still there. Like this is how it's meant to be. Like he is completely and utterly in love with you, and you feel the same. 

Shit, you're in love. 

Sylus leads you into his apartment. The one time you were in there, you didn't really take in his decor. It's very much him. The whole place is made up of black, white, some dark wood tones, yet it still feels warm. It might be because he has taken a page out of your book with all the candles he's lit around the apartment. The dining table is set beautifully. There's red wine on the table already, along with a beautiful bouquet of deep red roses that look almost velvety. There's some music playing that feels slightly suggestive but not enough to comment on. 

'Wow, you really went all you,' you note. You feel his arm slip from your grasp and around your waist to pull you closer against him. He looks down at you with the lightest flicker of a big smile. 

'For you, I'd rearrange the stars if you asked me to. Now go sit down. Food will be ready in a bit.' 

Sylus stands behind the stove while you take a seat at the table. Of course, you take the seat across from the kitchen so you can watch him work. The way he slightly is swaying and softly humming along with the music is truly a vision to behold. A domestic vision. A vision of a future you'd like to live. 

He looks over his shoulder, seeing you leaning on your palm, elbow on the table, staring at him. You feel your cheeks heat up again but no urge to look away. Instead, you smile at him and he smiles back. He picks up the pan and walks over to the table, setting it down in the middle between the two plates.  

'Pasta alla Norma. Say when,' he says as he starts dishing out the food on your plate. You nod your head to him after a bit, having a very generous portion of pasta on your plate. He does the same for himself and grabs the wine to uncork it. All of it goes so smooth, so fluent, like every motion of his is perfected. 

And so is the food. It's not that special of a pasta dish but it's made so damn well. 'Is there anything you can't do,' you joke, 'I might just have to marry you right here and now.' His lips quirk into a smile. 

'Are you sure, sweetie? We barely know each other,' he teases back, 'what if I turn out to be a serial killer?' 

'Then I'd die a happy death.' Even though you are joking, somewhere in the back of your mind you know that it's true. You've never had a connection to anyone before like you have with him. It's new and exciting, but most of all it feels right. 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

The dinner is mostly uneventful, except that Sylus got some sauce on his clothes. He claimed it was because he was admiring you, but you saw him struggle to get the bite on his fork properly. However, this one time you decided not to tease him because you do want to cuddle up to him during the movie. 

At least, that was the plan. Pure innocent cuddling.  

Seems Sylus has different plans. You're sitting leaned against him, knees pulled up onto his lap, his arm around you, but for about ten odd minutes now his free hand has been tracing figured on your thigh. Each passing moment he seems to get a little bit closer to your inner thigh. 

The teasing gets you hot and bothered, which only makes Sylus smirk. You don't have to look up at him to know. He moves his other hand from your shoulder to your waist, his thumb gently rubbing your skin so that your shirt starts riding up until you feel his touch on your skin. 

That's when he shoves his other hand between your thighs, so close to your core, pulling a gasp from your lips. As you smack your hand in front of your mouth and look up, you can already feel Sylus’ laugh rumbling through his chest. You won't stand for that shit. 

With one swift movement, you sit yourself on his lap. Hands gently draped over his shoulders; hips so close to his but not quite close enough. He hooks his hands under your thighs and pulls you right on top of his bulge. The friction makes you gasp, but you try to keep a straight face. 

'We're not watching the movie, are we,' he asks suggestively. You move your hands to the buttons of his shirt and start undoing them slowly, one by one. In response, his hands start roaming over your hips, your thighs, they grace your ass and lower back. You feel yourself start to grind against him ever so slightly. It's almost involuntarily and gets more intense when you see how much Sylus is blushing while trying to keep a straight face. 

'Don't know why you're asking me. You're the one who started it.' Your hands get to the bottom button that you can still see. Instead of undoing it, you splay your hands out over his stomach, exploring all the skin you've freed as you rake your nails over the lean muscles on his stomach. 

'Mmm, I know sweetie, but consent is sexy,' he groans, moving his head towards your shoulder, he presses a kiss under your ear, 'do I have your consent?' 

'You do,' you say breathlessly, moving your hands behind his neck, entangling your fingers in his hair as you grind on him a little harder. He gently bites the spot he just kissed as a reply and grips your hips roughly, guiding you over him while he bucks up at you. His breathing becomes labored as you two dry fuck like a bunch of horny teenagers. 

He moves his head to kiss your lips. It's all tongue and teeth, desperately chasing a high. Somewhere in your mind you had expected Sylus to be cool, calm, collected when it comes to sex, but seeing him this excited because of you gives you confidence the likes of which you have never experienced. 

Suddenly, he drops his head back to your shoulder and bites down as his movements become less rhythmic. He stops moving all together and looks up at you with big eyes, staring up at you like you're made of pure stardust. 

'Did you just-' 

'Yes.' 

'Because-' 

'Because an angel was riding me.' A grin spreads across your face. He came in his pants like a fucking teenager because of you. That's so fucking hot. If he starts praising you any more you might just become a nightmare to deal with. 

'Wanna do it again without clothes?' 

'More than you could ever imagine.' He grabs your ass and stands up with you in his arms. A yelp slips from your lips as you quickly grab his shoulders. There's that smirk again. Shit, this could be the switch Olympics at this point, that way that you keep flipping. 

Being in Sylus’ bedroom is slightly strange. You've seen it from all angels before, even though you've never been there before. He lays you down on his bed and you see yourself looking back on the ceiling. For a second, your mind is completely lost until you realize that there's mirrors on his ceiling. Strangely, that doesn't surprise you in the slightest. 

Then, you see Sylus taking off his shirt. You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch him as he undoes the button on his jeans. A devious idea pops into your head and you grab his hand to stop him.  

He watches you intensively as you switch places with him so he is seated at the edge of the bed. His eagerness to touch you has a hold on him but he's trying so hard to let you do whatever. You take his hands and guide them to the hem of your shirt. Then, you slide them up. He quickly catches on and helps you take your shirt off, revealing a beautiful black lace bra. 

'Shit,' he cusses under his breath, tossing your shirt somewhere in the corner. His hands move to your jeans and undo the button and zipper. One peek at your matching undies has him groaning. He helps you step out of your jeans and grabs your hips gently, pulling you towards him. You put your hands on either sides of his face. His eyes are on yours, but they keep flickering down to your lips while his thumbs gently rub your hips. 'All this for me?' 

'All for you.' Your voice comes out sultry, seductive. Nothing you've ever sounded like before. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you against him, and kisses you slowly. 

'You look beautiful,' he mumbles against your lips, drunk off your body and the lingering thought of being inside it. He finally peels himself off your body and switches sides with you again. 'Lay down. I'll be right back.' 

'Don't leave me,' you whine as you grab his hand. He stops for a second, physically restraining himself. 

'Condom,' he says and lets go of your hand, disappearing into the bathroom. You decide to sit on your knees in the middle of the bed, eagerly awaiting his return while you soak through your panties. It takes him less than a minute to come back, and when he does his jeans are already off. You eye his bulge with your mouth slightly agape. Sure, you had seen it before, but everything looks smaller on a phone screen. He catches the worry in your eyes as he puts one knee on the bed to be closer to you. 'We don't have to-' 

'Shut up,' you quip, 'I'll be fine. Just go slow.' There's that grin again. With one hand, he reaches behind you and unhooks your bra with ease, with the other he hands you the condom, then he guides you onto your back. You try to take off your bra as you lay, but he grabs your hand and guides it to his hair. For a second, you don't understand but then he dips his head down and starts kissing your chest, slowly making his way over your clothed nipple and kissing it, leaving a wet spot on the lace. With his other hand he pushes the straps off your shoulders.  

Within seconds you are reduces to a whimpering, moaning mess. Your legs spread to make room for him and he gratefully takes his place between them. Sylus finally grabs the bra and removes it, joining it with your shirt and pants on the floor. His hand returns to your breast quickly, his hand gently massaging it while his lips make their way down lower. 

Slowly but surely, he reaches your panties and places lingering kisses just above them. Your hips buck up towards him and you hear the rumble of his rich chuckle. 'Sweetie, you know what you do to me. I fear I might not survive if I spend all my time between your legs.' 

'And I fear I might not survive if you don't fuck me right now,' you groan, giving a firm thug on his hair. You hear him gasp and it goes straight to your pussy. You cuss under your breath as you look down at the smug smile he wears. His fingers hook under your panties and pull them off. They join your other clothing on the floor. 

'You're soaked,' he notes, satisfied. 

'And you're not inside me yet.' Another rumbling laugh as he reaches for his own boxers and pulls them off in a swift motion. Shit, he's big and... are those- 

'They'll feel good. Trust me,' he promises as he watches you look at the two piercings making up his frenum ladder. You reach out to touch it and he lets you. He shivers under your touch as you run your hand over the metal beats on the underside of his dick. 

'One of these days I'm going to make you fuck me raw,' you say, not really realizing what you're saying as you're completely enamored with his dick and piercings. 

'You can't say stuff like that. I'm trying to go slow,' he almost gasps for air with every word and snatches the condom from your hand to quickly roll it on. You watch him lean over you, one of his hands firmly planted next to your head, the other guiding his cock towards your entrance. 

'Fuck slow.' You wrap your legs around him, pulling him towards you. He slips inside easily but goddamn it's a fucking stretch to say the very least. All you can hear is a mixed chorus of groans and gasps. He doesn't move his hips as his eyes study your face, fearing the discomfort he sees might be too much for you. However, you could care less. You feel so incredibly full and ecstatic to be spending the night with him that you might just burst right now. You reach out for him, grabbing his shoulders to pull him down for a kiss. 

'Are you alright,' he asks, holding off the kiss until he has your ok, 'I'm all the way in.' 

'I'm fine. Just kiss me and please move. I need it so fucking bad,' you beg. He does as you say, crashing his lips on yours as he sets a painfully slow tempo to get you used to him. You feel like you're going to snap if he keeps this up. 'Please move faster.' Your words sound more like a moan. 

'Are you sure, sweetie? You seem to be enjoying it just fine.' He looks down at you with pure amusement. Seems he's in a mood. You quickly shove his arm and manage to turn him on his back, not that he puts up much of a fight. 

'I thought you wanted me on top,' you tease back, sheeting yourself on his dick in one motion before he can even respond. Sylus lets out a low groan, throwing his head back and clawing at your hips for something to hold on to. 'Are you going to be a good boy for me and let me ride you?' 

'What happens if I say no.' 

'You'll have to find out.' He nods in response and makes himself comfortable on the pillows. You take that as your go ahead and set an absolutely feral pace. He was right about those piercings. They feel amazing.  

The horniest gasp you've ever heard slips from Sylus’ lips as he turns bright red in the face. His hands move down to your thighs, nails digging into your skin. You'll certainly have bruises tomorrow. 

'Does that feel good,' you ask him as you lean down a little, planting your hands on his chest, nails raking over his pecs. 

'Yes,' he moans, looking absolutely beautifully drunk on you. You feel your high approaching, as does he from what you can tell. He's so close to unraveling and it's beautiful. You wish you could capture this moment, keep this feeling bottled up on your nightstand.  

His hands move back to your hips as he suddenly plants his heels against the mattress and starts trusting up into you, hitting new highs deep inside of you. Highs that no one has ever hit before. Highs that you want him to hit each and every day. He's addicting. Your whole body is tingling as you lean closer towards him, trying to keep up with his pace while you kiss him. He seems too focused to kiss you properly. It's a mess of spit, biting, teeth clanking, and it's so fucking hot. You lick down his neck as you feel your high approaching so fucking fast. 

And there it goes. You hear an animalistic groan next to you, feel it rumble through his chest as his motions become sloppier. Your body topples over the edge and in a moment of absolute bliss, to suppress the absolutely vile sounds you make, you bite down on his shoulder. Hard. Sylus moans at the pain, grabbing your ass to push your body down against him, holding you in place speared on his cock. 

Waves of pleasure shake through your body as Sylus presses sweet kisses on top of your head. His hips move ever so slightly, helping you ride it out. Your eyelids start feeling heavy, your body is aching, your pussy is clenching up. 

'Are you alright?' Sylus voice is different now. It sounds almost worried. You release his shoulder from your bite and prop yourself up on his chest. 

'Peachy,' you reply with a hazy smile, 'wanna take a nap and do it again in a few hours?' 

There goes that rumbling laugh of his again. His hands start rubbing your back as he leans up to peck your lips. It's such an innocent gesture if you don't think about the fact that his dick is still inside you, twitching with every single tiny movement you make. 'As much as I would like that. Let's give it a few more hours and do it again in the morning. Deal?' 

'Only if we take a shower together.' 

'I'll do you one better. I have a tub.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

Previous - Next

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

Taglist

@carmelves

@terriblesoup

@valkyyriia

@fvcknwww

@itsizumiiii

@ludwigsb0nker

@amywright

@frenchmess23yo

@malleus-draconias-rose

@deathkat657

@sweetnanah

@trishiepo0

@iraot

@nyxie-00

@sherlockstolemyname

@poptrim

@dummiebunny

@everythingistaken00

@ikesimpleton

@tyys-stuff

@venussakura

@crimsonlittlecrow

@raiyuxa

@pxxchyjjk168

@satansdaughter123

@nekee-lilac02

@brekkers-whore

@datfangirl

@datura109

@napa-the-yappa

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

[saetiate]

a shooting star in his hand - sae x f!reader fluff, first meeting, cafe meet cute

He's been in line for 15 minutes.

Granted, it's not really anyone's fault. You, standing in front of him, have said your order with polite clarity, a gentle smile on your face directed to the barista in front of you that has "TRAINEE" on a metal plate. There's a woman behind her showing her how to steam the milk, telling her to put the bagel in the oven.

Learning takes time. Sae, too, knows this. Most people don't wake up with abilities built into them, not like his brother did the first time they played football together. Sae didn't. He held the ball at his feet almost as soon as he could walk. He let it eclipse his life, rotated around it like the earth does to the sun, until he knew it to perfection, to both creation and destruction.

But he'd appreciate if learning didn't happen when he was the only other person in line on his way to the stadium.

"Sorry about that." You're looking at him. Talking to him, he processes a little too slowly this morning.

He takes in your body language clinically, the way you're tapping your fingertips over the back of your phone case, your tilted head and nervous smile.

The fireburn of irritation behind his eyes falls immediately, like a weight dropped, and the calm lake of his usual demeanor returns. "It's fine."

That's the reassurance he's supposed to give, right? You turn to peer over the counter, and a keychain dangles from the zipper of your bag.

"Blue Lock?" He says it before he can stop himself, more shock than anything else.

"Hm? Oh!" You hold the keychain delicately in your palm, the glean of it catching the light the same way your smile does. "Yeah! One of the guys who was in it lives in my building. He was holding this whole box of merch for the anniversary a couple months ago? He handed me one in the elevator."

"You watch?" You're beaming up at him, but you seem more nervous about your food than you do talking to him. He's trying to see if…

"Oh, nah. I don't really watch sports. Do you?"

So that explains the lack of recognition. "I play."

"Oh! Football? Oh, that's hella cool." Words flow casually for you, an easygoing melody. "I always wanted to get into sports when I was a kid."

The cashier hands you your order with a bow of her head and an apology, and the payment barcode flashes on the screen. Before your bank app can even load up —

There's a beep, and you look up at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw. "Wha- That was my order!"

"I know." He doesn't even spare you a glance, looking directly at the cashier to list off his drink with a monotone cadence.

"Okay, wait, at least let me-" Your bag slides open over your shoulder, a shuffling that he inevitably interrupts.

"No need." It's tart, said with a finality that has you giving a resigned sigh.

"Well, thank you. Genuinely." There's a shift to your bag again in the corner of his eye that he refuses to acknowledge. "If you're not going to take my money, at least take this."

Maybe it's confusion or curiosity that has him finally turning to you, a closing distance that you cross between you both that he has every opportunity to move away from. He doesn't. Instead, he looks down to find there's a card in his hand, a sticky note on top with a number and a name.

"My personal number, if you're single. And my business card, in case you'd like that kind of favor instead." There's that sing-song voice of yours, gentle as the wind, more pleasant than he'd like to admit. "A nice gesture deserves one in return, no? Not sure if it'll come up, but if you ever need someone in this industry, I can be your girl."

Your voice wavers, he notices. Shakes but doesn't stutter. He meets your eyes, gazing up at him with something between both nervousness and surety, or maybe more like bravery despite fear. A vulnerability he never dares to share himself. But on you, somehow, he admires it. Finds it daring — to stand in a moment on shaky legs without a pre-calculated estimation of how it would go.

His girl. Something about it feels like a flicker of fire in his gut, the lap of a flame brushing against the bottom of his heart.

He pockets the note with a nod, grabbing his drink with one hand and rushing out the door with another.

(He calls, that night. With a restaurant in mind and a reservation in place. Sae doesn't believe in serendipity, in fate, in the idea that the universe would grant a prize to him in particular.

Maybe it's just pure luck, falling into place in his life. A shooting star he manages to catch in his hand.)

author's note: thank you for reading and supporting me as always :)) a lil secret message here that i'll be opening requests via a valentines event tomorrow!! in precisely 16 hours from this being posted ahaha so if u like my writing please keep a look out for that!!

[rubywillkins]

Hi, this is an order for your cafee. Dont know if I picked too much, i just did one from each.

Can I have skim Milk, bruchetta, spaghetti, club soda, pork chops, potato gnocci and dark mocha. With mv1 x fem reader🩷

Thank youuu

Sure darling ♥️, you didn't pick much sweety its actually a bit less so the ff will be a bit short ♥️

Max Verstappen|

Tension and Tenderness

Pairing max Verstappen × female reader

Skim milk dry humping bruschetta edging spaghetti hand cuffs club soda pillow talk pork chops "so good for me, look at how much you came" potato gnocchi "shh, just look at me, baby" dark mocha dating

The paddock was buzzing with its usual energy. Y/N stood near Max's Red Bull garage, chatting animatedly with one of the mechanics, Lucas. She admired how Lucas was always so patient explaining the technical intricacies of Max’s car, and her curiosity often led her to these lighthearted conversations.

Max, who had just wrapped up his debrief, spotted them from a distance. His jaw tightened as he saw Y/N laughing at something Lucas said. The warmth in her eyes sent a pang of jealousy through him, though he knew deep down it was irrational.

By the time Y/N rejoined him, Max’s mood had visibly shifted.

“Had a good chat?” he asked curtly, his tone sharp.

“Yeah, Lucas was just explaining how the new setup impacts—”

“Lucas this, Lucas that,” Max interrupted, his voice low but edged with annoyance. “You seem to spend more time with him than me lately.”

Y/N frowned, caught off guard. “Max, are you seriously jealous? He’s just being nice and answering my questions.”

Max huffed but didn’t reply, his blue eyes betraying the storm brewing within. They finished the rest of their day in strained silence, the usual playful banter replaced by tension.

The drive home was quiet, and Y/N felt the weight of his emotions. Max rarely let his insecurities show, but when he did, it hit hard.

As soon as they stepped into their shared apartment, she turned to him. “Max, talk to me. What’s really going on?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “I don’t like seeing you with him, okay? It gets to me. I know it’s stupid, but I can’t help it. You’re mine, and the thought of someone else catching your attention...”

She stepped closer, placing her hands on his chest. “You’re the only one I want, Max. You have nothing to worry about.”

His eyes softened, but the tension in his body remained. Without another word, he pulled her into a deep kiss, pouring all his unspoken emotions into it. Y/N felt the shift—his jealousy melting into need, his anger replaced by a longing to feel connected.

The night unfolded in a whirlwind of passion and tenderness. Max’s hands explored her as if reminding himself she was his, every touch filled with a mix of possessiveness and love. "You deserve to be punished young lady" he said while putting handcuffs on you... You hesitate a bit but you were enjoying it.. you don't see this side of max often..

He picked you up and made you sit on his lap kissing you roughly.. his hands caressing your ass and slowly pushing it towards his hardening dick...

At this point you were also turned on and both of your bodies were moving in sync Fully clothed...

"max.. don't make me more needy baby... Just put it in.. pls.." you said yearning to feel his dick inside you...

"Not so easily baby, this is a punishment.." he said smirking...

In one go both of your clothes were on the floor..

He inserted himself into you .. making you gasp because of the sudden movement...

It felt so good.. he was slowly pounding into you making it unbearable for you...

"baby pls.. pls a bit fast" you said.. "are you sure"

He started to pound in you roughly.. it was good very good but rough at the same time.. but he pulled out the moment you were about to cum...

"oh.. god no... Max... Why don't you let me cum"

"its a punishment baby" " max pls..it didn't feel good" you said with your big baby eyes.. which melted his heart right away.. "shh, just look at me, baby"

He started pounding into you again this time perfectly.. not too much rough.. but it felt amazing to you... When you both were about to cum.. he increased his pace go max.. it was good.. infact it was the best part... And you both came at the same time..

"so good for me, look at how much you came"

He said resting his head on your head panting from cuming right into you...

they lay tangled in the sheets, their breathing slowing as the adrenaline ebbed. Max traced lazy patterns on her bare shoulder, his head resting against hers.

“I’m sorry for overreacting,” he murmured. “I trust you, I do. It’s just...sometimes I forget how lucky I am to have you.”

She turned to face him, her fingers brushing through his messy hair. “Max, you don’t have to be jealous. Lucas is a friend, but you’re the one I love. You’re my everything.”

His lips curved into a small smile. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” she promised, leaning in to kiss him softly.

They stayed like that for hours, talking about everything and nothing—his next race, their plans for the future, and the little moments that made their relationship special. The vulnerability in their conversation only deepened their bond, and by the time sleep claimed them, the earlier tension was a distant memory.

In the quiet of the night, wrapped in each other’s arms, they both knew they had something unshakable.

[duachai]

DE.VIL - BANG CHAN | STRAY KIDS

A fashion designer under a mafia contract is Chan's one and only toy to play with.

Here, baby, take a sip, take a sip. Take a sip, take a sip, lick your lips, lick your lips

♱ PAIRING : BANG CHAN X MALE READER �� CONTENT WARNING : This writing contains explicit sexual content and mature themes. ♱ AUTHOR'S NOTE : This was supposed to be for Halloween, but I left it in my notion and then forgot about it. So... then I got carried away... turned it into smut... and then with railway and... well.... it's Chan. ♱ REQUESTED : YES (ANON) LINKS : Wattpad

Lollipops were M/n's stress relievers. His mother, wise to his anxieties, had given him the habit of carrying one at all times. In the face of conflict, the sugary treat became a calming ritual, helping him navigate the tension. 

The urge to pop a lollipop for comfort was eating him alive. However, he knew a childish indulgence wouldn't sit well with the wealthy client scrutinizing his latest masterpiece, or what he thought was one. 

"Is this it?" the client scoffed, slumping back in his chair. "This just looks like a bunch of draped fabric. And it's way too feminine for what I instructed you to. Listen, I respect your achievements, and you can do whatever you please, but this is a complete miss for me. Try again.” 

M/n clenched his jaw, the fingers of his right hand twitching to reach for his hidden stash of lollipops. This was the opposite of S-Class Styles’s brand. His brand thrived on pushing boundaries, not churning out these uninspired black-and-white suits. He craved the opportunity to inject some signature edge, a touch of that S-Class shock factor, to weave a story into the fabric itself. 

S-Class Styles was a front for a darker business, but as the specific gentleman who bought out the place, they offered M/n a secure job to do whatever he pleased, but still he got walked all over. 

And frankly, this was M/n’s fifth project for this man. Could he not catch the hint? 

“Alright, Mr. Jung. I’m sorry this doesn’t fit your… criteria. I’ll work on getting a better version for you.” M/n swallowed his pride, putting on a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He kept it moving, something he continued to do through the last six clients until the end of the day. 

The shop lights flickered off one by one, signaling the end of another grueling shift. M/n gathered his belongings and shuffled out, ready to escape the suffocating pressure of client demands. 

As he stepped into the lobby, he was greeted by a figure that instantly made his pulse quicken. Chan, the mafia leader who had an iron grip on the city, was lounging casually on a velvet chair, waiting for him. His dark eyes narrowed slightly, studying M/n with an intensity that left no room for distractions. 

“Bad day?” Chan’s voice was smooth, his presence undeniably commanding. He rose slowly, the tension in his muscles barely contained beneath his perfectly tailored suit, one that M/n made himself. The air around him seemed to shift, and M/n's breath hitched despite himself. 

"All the same," M/n replied, trying to mask the sudden heat crawling up his neck. 

“Mm,” Chan hummed thoughtfully, stepping closer with a predatory grace. He reached up, his thumb grazing M/n’s jawline, a movement that was as casual as it was intimate. "That look on your face tells me something’s eating at you. I don’t like it." 

M/n swallowed, his heart hammering in his chest. "It’s nothing. Just business, you know?" 

Chan’s lips curved into a dangerous smile. “Doesn’t seem like nothing. Why don’t you let me take care of it?” M/n was Chan’s personal... liaison. Chan took care of him and his shop, and M/n took care of anything Chan needed work wise and personally. 

Before M/n could protest, Chan’s hands were at his waist, pulling him into a firm embrace. The sudden closeness was overwhelming and M/n could feel the heat radiating from Chan’s body, and his breath caught in his throat. Bang Chan leaned in, his lips brushing just below M/n’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. 

“You’ve been carrying all that stress around,” Bang Chan whispered, his voice rough and low. "Is there someone bothering you? Let me handle it." 

M/n’s mind raced, but his body betrayed him. He wanted to push away, to retreat, but the pull of Chan was magnetic. He leaned into the kiss, their lips crashing together in a searing kiss. The taste of mint and danger mixed as their tongues tangled in a heated rhythm, all pretense vanishing in an instant. 

“There’s no one,” M/n whispered between the kiss. Chan’s hands moved down to M/n’s hips, pulling him closer, if that was even possible. The space between them vanished as M/n’s lower back pressed against the nearest desk with his sewing machine on it. The sharpness of the suit’s fabric dug into his skin, but it only heightened the fire burning inside him. 

Chan broke the kiss briefly, his lips brushing M/n’s neck as he trailed kisses along his skin. “Are you being honest with me, doll?” he murmured against his collarbone, voice laden with desire. 

M/n’s breath faltered, his hands reaching up, desperate to touch, to claim. The tension, the stress, everything melted under Bang Chan’s touch, and he knew, deep down, there was no turning back now. 

“Answer me,” Chan murmured, his voice dropping to a near growl, “Is there a problem I have to deal with?” His dark eyes searched M/n’s face intently looking for any sign he was hiding something. 

M/n took a breath, pushing Chan back a little as he dropping his head as he sighed. “There’s nothing, I don’t understand why you get so worked up.” Chan’s expression turned as he slightly rolled his eyes, his brows furrowing as he looked down at M/n with a mix of frustration and concern. He reached up, his thumb brushing over M/n’s jawline as he tried to coax him to look up. 

“Your shop looks a reck. Someone came here causing trouble. What I don't understand is why you keep protecting them.” He said sternly, M/n adverting his eyes completely. “When are you going to stop covering for people who clearly don’t give a fuck about you and what you’re doing?” M/n’s shoulders drop and his lips form into a pout. “One of these days, I’m not going to be here to protect you, M/n.” 

“Just stop with your gangster bullshit, Chan.” M/n said, pushing off from leaning on the desk as he grabbed his coat, “I can’t deal with another lecture. I’m going home.” 

Chan’s eyes flashed with a little bit of concern, he bit his anger back as he watched M/n walk away. He knew better than to push too hard, not when he already knew M/n was one for an attitude. With another sigh, he reached back and caught M/n’s arm pulling him back in  front of him, “Stop.” 

“I’m just trying to fucking help,” Chan said, his voice low and dripping with tense as he looked at M/n with slight puppy eyes. “You can’t keep letting people walk all over you, doll. I know you and I know one day you’re going to snap and it’s gonna to be a mess so I’m telling you here right now don’t do that. You’re my cover, so don’t blow it.” 

“I’m sorry, I can do better.” M/n said his lips pushing out. Chan’s expression softened as he pressed his forehead to M/n’s, his hands back at his hips. He became mushy, and folded under M/’s pout, one he could just kiss over and over. 

M/n drew in a gentle breath as Chan nuzzled his face into his neck, placing peppered kisses on the area as he inhaled the scent of cinnamon on M/n’s skin. “You always make it so hard to stay mad at  you,” He murmured, his hands roaming lower. He hooked his fingers under M/n’s waistband, tugging gently. 

“Chan...don’t-” 

Too late. Chan cut M/n off as he lifted the male on top of the desk, stepping between his legs as they wrapped around his waist instinctively. Their lips connected again and M/n moaned in a sexy fit of protests before melting into Chan’s lust. 

Chan’s hands slowly move to M/n’s backside, untucking his dress shirt. His cold hands gently caressed his bare skin as he pressed soft, slow kisses along M/n’s jawline and neck. He unbuttoned M/n’s shirt, pushing it off his shoulder, admiring M/n’s upper body. 

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Chan cooed, his hand wrapping around M/n’s neck lightly as he tipped his head up to look him straight in the eyes. 

Chan gazed intensely into M/n’s eyes, his grip around M/n’s neck feather-light yet so possessive. “Can you service me tonight, doll?” He asked, Chan’s thumb brushing over his bottom lip before it slipped between his lips, his eyes dilating as through his eyelashes M/n looked up at him so seductive. Chan inhaled sharply as the feeling of M/n’s warm mouth. 

“Open wider.” He commanded. 

“Yes, daddy,” M/n obeyed as Chan guided M/n down onto his knees, keeping his hand on M/n’s cheek as he used his other hand to unbutton his pants. M/n watched with pouty lips glazed in his spit, practically drooling to get Chan back in his mouth. 

“Good boy, now suck.” Chan commanded, releasing his now-hard length from his undergarments, a small bead of moisture already forming at the tip. He pressed the head against M/n’s open mouth, his hand now tangled in M/n’s locks of wild black and white hair, slightly guiding his head forward. 

“Yes...” M/n said in almost a whine, his lounge darting out to lick the tip of Chan, gathering the salty love liquid before sucking gently on the head. Chan’s hand in his hair tightened further, his hips giving an involuntary jerk as M/n’s warm, wet, mouth enveloped him. 

“Fuck,” Chan hissed, his head tilting back slightly at the pleasure M/n brought him. He gently thrust his hips forward, watching himself slowly disappear into M/n’s mouth, “You take me so well, doll. Go deeper, baby.” 

“Mm,” M/n hummed against Chan, his free hand stuck between his underwear as he palmed him in the rhythm of his mouth. Chan tuned on even more, if possible, watching M/n’s pleasuring himself while sucking him off. He throbbed between those perfectly shaped lip. 

“Yes, baby, fuck... just like that, my sweet doll.” 

“F-Fuck, I’m gonna c-cum. Shit,” M/n whined. 

Chan smirked with a hum, those dimples pressing on his cheeks, keeping M/n’s mouth stuffed with his thick length as he found himself pressing his own release too, “Go, baby, go ahead. Do it together” He encouraged. 

“Oh... fuck!” M/n half screamed as he halted for a second his mouth work on Chan just to use his hand to work the same pace on both, only to cum ribbons of his liquds over himself. 

“Mm mm, you’re not done, baby, come take this,” Chan commanded before letting M/n leave him without release. He lead M/n’s mouth back to his dick and stroked himself a few times before completely letting his cum funnel into his mouth. “Such a good fucking boy..” Chan cooed between one like moan as he slowly pulled out of M/n’s mouth. 

As M/n swallowed, he used his thumb to wipe away the drips from his abused and beet-red lips with a sugary, sexy grin, “Look at you, my doll. There’s no way I won’t keep you from everyone else.” 

[lady-z-writes]

Zoro x Reader

In which reader can't sleep and Zoro's keeping watch...and then can't stop watching 👀

Cw: smut (18+), afab, alcohol consumption, swearing, groping, vaginal fingering, handjob, sex, creampie.

(Takes place after Thriller Bark, but nothing too spoiler-y. Why am I so embarrassed to post this? Anyway, I hope you don't hate it.)

It's late.

The only sounds are the waves crashing, quiet snores from the crew, and a few footsteps on deck.

Zoro opens an eye, glances toward the noise to see you making your way over to a rail and looking at the water. Silently, he watches you pull a hoodie over your head, yawn, then lean down, your hands cupping under your chin.

"It's late," he says, startling you. "You should sleep."

Upon further investigation, he notices it's his jacket you're wearing - one gifted to him from Water 7 after all that crap with the crew's belongings. He scoffed when he saw it, hadn't put it on more than once, and now that he thought of it, he'd left it in the kitchen.

Thief, he half laughs to himself.

Opportunist, he knew you'd correct.

"I'm up. I can keep watch. You need some rest." Your voice isn't groggy from sleep, clearly you'd been awake for some time now.

Zoro's body aches, a dull sensation he's grown used to, but his position on the deck isn't exactly comfortable. And given recent events, he knows he needs more time to heal.

You don't know the extent of it, but you sensed something was off with Zoro - moreso than normal.

"Can't sleep?" He ignores your offer.

"I...yeah," the look on your face is haunted.

He's silent again, observing.

"Some creepy shit on that boat, huh?"

It's almost like he sees you settle at his acknowledgment; your shoulders loosen, a sigh leaves you, you deflate.

"We've been through some crazy shit, absolutely, but that was...nightmare material."

Zoro nods slowly, silences.

"We're safe, though, right?" Your voice is a whisper.

He nods stiffly, "mhm."

You look misty-eyed and Zoro is almost uncomfortable. "Look, I don't know what happened, but something doesn't seem right. Please. Get some sleep."

He doesn't argue with you, like you expected. But he also doesn't get up to go to bed. Instead, the headstrong swordsman leans back against the mast, hands cradling behind his head, and is snoring in minutes.

---

When he wakes up, the sunrise makes him squint. He's stretching his aching joints when he notices you're still nearby, a blanket thrown over your lap, steaming cup of coffee in your hands, Sanji flailing at your compliment on the brew, and an enormous Franky-sized shadow plopped next to you commenting about the sunrise.

Despite all of this, you hear him get up, turn your attention to him, and for some reason, it...warms something long dormant in him.

"Good morning!"

He can't shake the damn feeling all day. Not when he scurries away to work out, not when Chopper insists on checking his wounds again, and certainly not when he runs chest-first into you when rounding the corner away from the infirmary.

You stumble back as his reflexes force his arms forward to grab you.

You're nearly topless and his cheeks heat up at the sensation of touching your skin.

You're so soft...

"S-sorry! Oh my God, Zoro!"

"What're you doing?" He nods down at you now that you're not toppled over. He crosses his arms, figures that will help him forget.

"A few of us are swimming. You should join."

"Hm."

"I'm sorry if I overstepped last night. I just...worry, I guess."

His eyes take you in and you feel so transparent under his gaze. Your skin heats up.

"Don't worry about me."

"Got it. I'll just shut my brain off then." You look almost irritated, flustered, defeated.

"It's not like that, y/n..."

"No, you're right. I overshare. I need to keep things to myself; take one from your playbook."

You try to move passed him, but he steps in your way. Doesn't put his hands on you again, you notice.

"You're insufferable," he speaks quietly. Your jaw drops. "So why the fuck can't I stop thinking about you?"

A moment passes between you two. You're too stunned to speak. Seconds later, Zoro side-steps you and walks away.

---

Zoro figured everyone was swimming in the inflatable pool from the soldier dock system - not pulled out on the grassy deck.

Zoro sighs, thinking he'd have peace staying away from it all, but as he's making his way to the crow's nest, Luffy calls him over and begs him to swim.

He locks eyes with you and you almost choke on the wine you're sipping.

"Fine, I'll stay," he removes his shirt and shoes, seats himself beside Luffy, shoves his feet in the water, and reaches past you to grab the bottle of wine.

Bold, you think.

But his expression tightens when his fingers accidentally brush your hip.

You're smirking behind your glass and it pisses him off.

This isn't some game, he thinks.

But after your concern about him last night and the attention he's noticed you're giving him...there's something stirring and he hates it.

Franky splashes you, knocking you from your daydream and you react instantly, setting your wine glass down, launching yourself at him and wrestling him in the pool.

Zoro watches, drinking from the bottle, tells himself he's not noticing the way the water drips down your skin, or how your playfulness with Franky stirs jealousy in him.

What the fuck was wrong with him today?

Shaking his head, he leans back, stares at the passing clouds, steadies his breathing.

"Bro, tell her how strong I am. Tell her she won't win!" Franky calls to Luffy, tossing you in the water. You're gasping for air, pulling up between Zoro's widespread legs as the splash of water from Franky's toss covers him.

What. Are. The. Odds?

Zoro feels himself blush as your dripping wet self emerges from the water.

You lock eyes.

You steal the bottle from his hand, take a long drink, never breaking eye contact, then splash him right in the face.

"That does it!"

Zoro is bodying you into the water.

"No, not the wine!" You whimper, trying to hold the bottle above water as you're tackled.

It feels good, the cold water. Feels even better when he grips your hips underwater, drags his thumbs across your skin, and hears your sharp inhale.

So you're feeling it, too?

Interesting.

It becomes sort of a test, to Zoro, to see how far he could push things before the tension snapped

Over the next few days, he catches you looking at him, especially when he's shirtless or working out - which is often.

You see him stealing glances at times, sometimes when you and Franky are interacting, especially when Sanji is near you.

Then there's a late-night drink you sometimes have - some rum mix Sanji makes you, but you insist on being alone in the aquarium bar. He honors it, always, just the two of you knowing you're down there...or so you think.

You enjoy watching the fish, the calm of the swaying ship, the crew asleep. It helps when the nightmares get you.

Only tonight, you hear footsteps.

"Sanji, I told you-"

Only it's not Sanji.

Zoro stands, hands in pockets, an eyebrow raised.

"You expecting Sanji?" There's a tone to his voice. His little tiff with the cook is humorous most days.

"No." You feel your heart rate increase.

"What, exactly, are you doing alone down here so often?"

"Are you watching me?"

"Keeping an eye," he corrects.

"I enjoy the ambiance down here."

Zoro nods, seats himself beside you on the red bench, stares at the fish.

"Even now?" He's got a teasing tone to his voice and you suddenly can't take it anymore.

One swift movement, you straddle his lap, set the drink on the back of the cushion, and lace your fingers in his hair. Your lips hover over his. The tension increases.

You pause.

"Do it," Zoro's gruff voice speaks quietly.

"You sure?"

"What, you afraid you can't handle me?"

Immediately, you're liplocked, kissed with a hunger you've never experienced before.

You grind down against his growing erection and he groans.

"Tease. You're such a tease."

"You've no idea," you mutter between kisses.

It's like Zoro is in a competition with himself; each kiss better than the last.

You're experimenting too; gripping his hair and nipping his lower lip to see what'll get those sexy noises from him again.

"Maybe this'll get you outta my head," Zoro hums, breathless when you trail kisses down his chest.

"Agreed. You're driving me crazy."

"Feeling's mutual," he grunts when you palm him through his pants.

"Fuck and get it out of our systems?" You suggest.

He freezes. Had he thought of that? He wouldn't like to admit it. He hadn't expected you to make the suggestion.

His hands reach under your skirt, fingering for your panties.

"Here?" You hiss.

"Yes, here," he grunts. "Why not?"

You really can't argue.

Especially when he's managed to get your panties off and has his fingers buried inside you, palm pressing against your clit like you like.

"Ah, so this is how to shut you up."

You give him a glare, but it's half-hearted.

"Just fuck me already."

"Hmm, such a dirty mouth," he presses harder against your clit. "Gotta warm up first, sweetheart," he speaks against your neck.

You hate that he got you so close so quickly.

"Zoro..."

"Hm?"

"I need you."

"I know you do. Now do me a favor and cum on my fingers, then I'll let you cum on my cock."

His words send you spiraling. You never knew he'd be like this.

You're gasping his name, riding his fingers as you come undone on his lap.

He's all too pleased with himself, seems confident until you say "my turn."

He won't last, he can tell from the first touch of your bare hand on his throbbing cock.

He hisses an inhale, tries hard to hold it together as you start stroking him.

"Fuck, I can't wait," you hum after a few moments.

He's almost praising your name as you slide down on his cock.

His head lolls back against the cushion as your fingers grip his shoulders and you ride him.

Feels nice to have you do all the work, as his body's still aching from the events on Thriller Bark.

Feels nice to just enjoy something for once, to not be in his head about training or strength. It's almost an out-of-body experience when you're taking him.

"Hey. Back here, wild one," you whisper against his ear. "Where'd you go, just now?"

He hums, "nowhere good."

"Then..." You pull back, speak, "right here," against his lips, and kiss him slowly, grinding down on him then shifting your hips up...back down.

It's bliss, he realizes.

Any other experience - shall he call it - he's had, it's a power thing; him topping, him working both parties into oblivion. Had he ever had someone just...please him like this, he wonders?

"Oi!" He yelps when you bite his collarbone. There's an acho from his quick smack of your ass.

"There you go again..." You shake your head, lick the reddening bite mark. He shudders. "Don't you want to stay with me?"

You're right. You're so, so right and he nods against your forehead as you pick up speed.

The sound of skin slapping together drags his attention lower, watching your bodies come together. He lifts up your skirt, groans, presses his thumb to your clit.

You don't take much longer to cum on his cock, the moment consuming Zoro's attention - the way you gasp for him, how your nails dig into his biceps, the look of your tits as you throw your head back and ride him.

"Okay," he huffs. "I'll give you those. Bet I'll get one more outta you before I'm done."

You huff a laugh. "I'll bet. Pretty cocky, huh?"

He laughs at your joke.

"Oh, I am."

It's not exactly the ideal place for this, but Zoro tosses you down easily - shifts his knees on either side of you, the red cushions squeaking against naked skin. His aching body protests, but he thinks of it as a workout as he pounds into you - kisses down your body, every bit of exposed skin.

He's distracting himself so he doesn't end this little dalliance too soon.

"Up," he taps your thigh, pulls out.

He stands, ready to have you suck his cock, get you nice and worked up with no stimulation.

Only you stand, turn, raise the skirt, glance over your shoulder, and bend forward.

Coy. Cute.

He's back inside you in seconds, unwilling to let you win this one.

"Tease," he accuses again.

"You're too much fun," you laugh.

The playful lilt to your voice is gone soon, as he gives you his all.

You're too stunned to speak; only heaved breaths and soft moans.

When he feels you orgasm again, his grip on your hip tightens.

"Okay, sweetness. On your knees," he grits out.

You look back, shocked, defiant.

"Zoro. Please."

It's all you need to say, because the way you're pushing back on him and begging, he's already too far gone.

He cums with a growled breath against your neck.

The two of you pause, breathing together in the afterglow. His hands remain on you moments too long, he's sure, but he wants to remember this, wants to pull back to it on those lonely nights.

"So," he huffs a laugh, "I won."

"Jerk."

---

It becomes addicting, this thing.

He's constantly in a state of wanting to improve, even in this.

And you're an eager participant, only trying to help.

😏

[cha-melodius]

6. The “I forgive you” hug (for rwrb, if you haven’t gotten this one yet)

(Ooh, an unusual request! There are so many ways this could have gone; I hope you enjoy what I came up with. read all the hug ficlets)

6: The “I forgive you” hug

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?” Henry asks, having finally managed to corner Alex alone by the cake, midway through their friends’ wedding reception.

Alex rolls his eyes, not in that teasing way he used to but decidedly exasperated, which is as much a sign that something’s wrong as all the rest of his behaviour. “Nothing’s going on,” he huffs, pretending like he’s suddenly fascinated by sugar flowers.

“You’ve been acting like a right arsehole all night. To Jeff, and to me,” Henry says bluntly. He’s never seen Alex be as rude as he’s been to Henry’s date. Maybe he and Alex haven’t stayed in touch as much lately, but they were close friends once. Honest with each other. Ok, perhaps Henry had kept one secret, but that’s beside the point. “Something’s clearly wrong, and I think you should just say it.”

“It’s nothing,” Alex grunts.

He starts trying to walk away, but Henry’s not done with this discussion; he reaches out to grab Alex’s arm, only to for his grip to get shaken off. The movement causes Alex to lurch to the side and he bumps into the cake table, which wobbles once, precariously, before stabilising.

Alex lets out a heavy sigh of relief, and Henry takes advantage of his distraction to grab his arm, more firmly this time, and haul him out into the corridor.

“Stop saying it’s nothing,” Henry snaps. They’re standing closer now, their noses no more than a handful of centimetres apart, and Alex glares up at him. “I know you, and this isn’t who you are.”

“Maybe it is now,” Alex retorts defiantly, but there are cracks forming in his façade. His lower lip, stuck out along with his set jaw, wobbles.

“Please, Alex,” Henry says, his voice softening before he means to let it. He’s never been able to stay mad at Alex for that long. “You know you can tell me anything.”

Alex’s expression crumples, and he drops his eyes to the ground. “I’m sorry, H. I was frustrated at myself, and I took it out on you guys. You didn’t deserve that.”

Henry doesn’t hesitate before he pulls Alex into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around Alex’s shoulders as Alex tucks his head partly under Henry’s chin. “It’s forgiven,” he says, half into Alex’s curls. “It’s just… I missed you, and it hurt when you pushed me away like that.”

“I missed you too,” Alex sniffles into Henry’s shoulder. After another breath, he carefully extracts himself and smooths the front of his jacket down. “I saw you after all this time, and I think I was so fucking overwhelmed by regret that I temporarily lost my mind.”

“What do you mean, regret?” Henry asks, though he assumes Alex means not keeping in touch as much as they should have—Henry certainly has plenty of regrets about that.

But Alex just smiles a little ruefully and shakes his head. “Mostly regret that I didn’t figure out I was bisexual until after college.”

Henry blinks at him. “What?”

“I mean, I had such a big, fat crush on you, and I didn’t even realise what it was until literal years later. How embarrassing is that?”

He says it with a laugh and an alluring dusty pink tinge on his cheeks, like he hasn’t just turned Henry’s entire life upside down.

“But—” Henry starts, only to falter. “But you’ve got a partner now, too.”

“Who, Nora?” Alex frowns at him. “I could have sworn I told you she’s my sister’s wife. She’s just here because I didn’t want to come alone. That, and the free cake.”

“So… you’re not seeing anyone?”

Alex’s mouth tips wryly. “Nope. Sadly single.”

Henry doesn’t think—he crosses the few steps between them, puts both of his hands on Alex’s face, and pulls him into a kiss. Alex responds almost instantaneously, like he can’t help it, and their lips slide together for a few blissful moments before he tears himself out of it, his eyes wide.

“Wait— what about Jeff?”

“We’ve been on three dates and I don’t even like him that much,” Henry confesses. “I didn’t want to come alone either.”

“So you—”

“Have been in love with you since our first year? Yes,” Henry finishes, unwilling to waste any more time.

Alex’s smile is impossibly brilliant when Henry pulls him into another kiss.

[damned-punk]

Small Moments (Kidd x Reader x Killer)

@gratefulcheeses Kidd Pirate’s Month 2025 🏴‍☠️

⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆

Content Warning: nsfw, afab!reader

Content Description: modern!AU where you and Killer spend the day planning for a relaxing evening while Kidd works overtime ♡

⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆

You stood in the kitchen alongside Killer, finishing up the sides that would accompany his pasta dish for dinner. The two of you had the day off, Kidd was due home from the body shop at any second. Just as you had set out the plate and silverware, the front door swung open to reveal your favorite red-headed mechanic. His hair was a bit tousled, his hands covered in grease and his clothes just as tattered as ever. You strutted yourself over to him, greeting him with a kiss as soon as his boots were off and kicked to the side.

“Miss me?”, he asked teasingly, squeezing your bottom as he returned the affection.

“Dinner is almost done, hurry and shower.”, you urged him so that the food wouldn’t get cold.

This was all part of your usual routine. Kidd would shower as soon as he was home, all the sweat and grime from work creating such a mess otherwise. He and Killer typically worked the same shifts but Kidd had put in some overtime today, consequentially allowing you and Killer to scheme at home in preparation for the perfect evening. As you listened to the water of the shower patter against the tiled walls, you plated Kidd’s dinner and arranged everything on the coffee table in the living room.

As you returned to gather drinks for everyone, Killer caged you in his arms and showered a barrage of kisses across your face. You squirmed and giggled against him, a smile cracking across his features. He traced his lips along your jaw, nipping at the soft skin of your neck. You relaxed against him, far happier and satisfied than you could’ve ever imagined. These small moments meant the world to you and you hoped that it felt the same for them.

“I’m about to say to hell with this food if you two keep it up.”, Kidd said jokingly, lightly swatting and gripping your bottom as he caged you in from behind.

It was certainly temping, being pressed between them in bed was always a good time but the more rational part of you urged them to wait. It somewhat added to the allure of the evening, knowing that impending explicit activities were just on the horizon. There was little conversation as the three of you indulged in the meal, the flavors meshing perfectly with your’s and Killer’s combined efforts. Kidd’s hand wandered to your thigh as you sat back, discarding your empty plate alongside their own.

Killer noticed and followed Kidd’s lead almost immediately. Something about the way their large, rough hands gripped at you made your entire body feel warm and fuzzy. You stood from the couch and shuffled your way toward the bedroom, picking up speed as Kidd began chasing you down the hall. You yelped when he caught up to you, tackling you onto the bed and unleashing an attack of tickles than had left you pleading with him to stop.

Killer leant against the door frame and shook his head at your shenanigans. Despite Kidd’s intimidating stature, he could be so unserious which always made for a good time. You could say the same for Killer, Kidd might’ve been the one to start things but Killer never failed to finish them. The two men were so content and happy to be with you, there had been a time in their lives when they never could’ve imagined a life like the three of you had built together.

“EUSTASS! STOP!”, you yelled in defiance, your words coming out a bit wheezy due to the inability to catch your breath between laughs, “Help me, Killer!”

“You sure you want me to help?”, Killer took a few steps toward the bed, “You look like you’re handling things pretty well on your own.”

Kidd relented and let you breathe for a moment upon hearing Killer’s words. They were far too sultry for him to continue playing with you like this. Visions of you handling him in other ways crossed his mind, prompting him discard your bottoms. He was rather swift with his motions, the sudden loss of modesty causing you to become a bit shy. You trusted them whole heartedly but things could be unexpected at times. One moment you’re playing with them and the next, you’re playing with them.

Killer assumed position behind you, coaxing you to lean back as Kidd positioned himself in front of you. He hooked his arms underneath your legs and peppered sloppy kisses along the plush of your thighs. He considered teasing you, but he was far too impatient at this point. He worked his tongue through your folds, thoroughly enjoying the way that your fingers gripped his hair.

“Kidd…”, you whimpered out to him, “Feels good…”

“I know, I know.”, he cooed back, not nearly as sarcastic as usual.

He’d typically take his time working you up, sometimes even trading off with Killer to extend the build up to the main event. Things would typically move fast at that point, the anticipation making the sensations feel so much more intense. Tonight was still just as pleasurable, but Kidd wanted to indulge in you for a change of pace. His day had been filled with hard work and little excitement, he needed this time to be as close to you as possible.

Killer understood immediately from the pace that Kidd had set, working himself up to the view before him. He’d enjoyed having the opportunity to decompress with you, the only thing that could’ve enhanced his experience would’ve been Kidd also getting to spend the day the same way with the two of you. That would be saved for another time, the three of you were connected in this moment and that was enough.

Your legs trembled, a signal that Kidd was bringing you to climax. Killer whispered filthy praises in your ear as your back arched, your chest heaving with deep breaths as Kidd helped you ride out your orgasm. He kissed his way back up to your lips, giving you the opportunity to taste yourself. You took a few seconds to calm down, eventually moving to rest on your hands and knees before the two men.

“Good girl.”, Kidd praised you, landing a firm smack on your ass, “Killer’s looking a little lonely, don’t you think (Y/N)?”

You focused on Killer’s hands which were currently freeing his cock from his boxers. You carefully brought your lips to rest around the tip, waiting to move until Kidd assumed his position behind you. He aligned himself at your entrance, initially moving with gentle thrusts as you adjusted to his size. You did what you could to take as much of Killer into your mouth as possible.

Killer was not fond of pushing your head and allowed you to pleasure him at your own pace. Kidd’s thrusts had become sharp and unrelenting, it was evident that he was not far from his own climax. Not that you were complaining, but Kidd was not as simple to pleasure at times. Killer was truly just happy to be there, he seemed to take all his pleasure from being any level of intimate with the two of you. It was a great dichotomy to have, the best of both worlds in your humble opinion.

Kidd’s thrusts became unrhythmic and Killer seemed to be holding himself back to wait for Kidd. If you could manage, you might’ve even giggled at the pair of them. They didn’t always engage in acts of intimacy alone, but this was one of those small moments that they shared together. This was a true connection between them and you as one unit, a three pointed set of soulmates.

“I love you, (Y/N).”, Killer muttered out as he met his own end, unable to hold back any longer.

The sudden admission from Killer combined with how you were working so hard to not spill him from your mouth summoned Kidd right over the edge. He was not as graceful with his own verbalization, uttering a string of curses as he collapsed against you. Killer readjusted his position to help you be more comfortable, reaching to fix the blanket over the three of you as best as he could manage.

“I can’t believe this.”, you deadpanned after a few moments.

“What?”, the two men asked in unison.

“Killer said he loves me and all you did was lay there.”, you teased Kidd relentlessly, “I don’t want cuddles from you anymore.”

You made a playful and feeble attempt to squirm out of his embrace, obviously putting up no real fight to get away from him.

“All I did was lay here?”, Kidd barked back, “I’m about to fuckin’ show you what laying here really looks like.”

“Yeah, I hear ya.”, you remarked, “Killer will protect me.”

“I will not.”, Killer teased back, “You’ve gotta fight your own battles at some point, (Y/N).”

“That’s it, I don’t want cuddles from either of you.”, you pouted and turned away from the two of them.

You smiled to yourself upon hearing Killer’s laughter in tandem to Kidd’s huffing and puffing. These moments meant everything you, it would always be the three of you against the world.

⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆

[reverieblondie]

Look Out Spot

A/N: I made this inspired by this lovely ask! (here) Thank you to @dark-and-kawaii for letting me write and use pics of her OC Kieran (he's so bad and so dreamy)

Rolan, Cal, Kieran, and Zevlor

Warning MDNI 18+ only!

Rolan

When you extend the offer for Lia and Cal to join your party and camp, you forget about the tall, haughty, kind of sexy older brother…

You and Rolan are like oil and water, constantly arguing at each other's throats. If he wasn't their sibling or talented, you would have smacked him down a while ago... Okay, maybe not actually, but you really would like to put him in his place. Especially tonight...

Somehow, your companions decided it would be a good idea to go on a stealth mission to the nearby goblin camp while you and Rolan played the roles of lookout. You had insisted you didn't need any help, but of course, Rolan challenged you. "Knowing your airheaded tendencies, you will need a babysitter to keep you aware." it makes you seeth through the back of your teeth.

Looking over your shoulder in the cramped hiding spot you see Rolan looking as disinterested in this mission as he can, leaning against a rock and looking out into the distance with his damned golden eyes... ugh, what is he doing posing?! As soon as you tsk, he slides his eyes over to you, catching you staring... He narrows his eyes at you and puts on his iconic sexy scowl.

"You should spend less time staring at me and focusing more on the enemies. If you did that, I wouldn't have to be here."

Gods, he makes your blood boil. You stand from where you are both crowded in between the rocks hiding you two. It's only one step before you're right in Rolan's face. Being this close makes details, like the curve of his nose and the freckles that dust his skin, more visible to you.

"If you want to complain, then leave! You look like you're not even paying attention to your side anyway! "

"I would love to leave, but someone has to keep you in line!" he hisses back. 

You roll your eyes and scoff, "Worry less about me and more about where you're supposed to be watching." 

Rolan's jaw tightens slightly before he leans forward and presses his hands on both sides of your head, pinning you to a rock; he's so close you can smell his natural musk... and feel his gentle breath on you. 

"You're the one I keep catching staring..." 

You feel your face suddenly flush before getting back to your senses. In the crowded corner, you push yourself off the rock behind you to slide past Rolan. "Just leave your distracting the mission."

While you're trying to pass by Rolan to take over his cramped lookout spot, you brush your backside over his front to squeeze past. Rolan tries to prevent it, but he's too late as your ass moves against his front, and that's when you feel something hard against you. In almost a state of shock, you move against him again, and that's when Rolan's eyes roll with a groan, and his large hands immediately come to still your hips. You feel his chest pant against your back, and still, in shock, you forget all about your stealth mission. 

"Rolan, are you h-"

Before you can finish your loud statement, Rolan slaps his hand over your mouth. "shh! You will get us caught, you ass!" 

You wiggle your face free, turning your head to look at him from over your shoulder. "Why are you hard?! " you whisper and yell.

"It wasn't on purpose! It just... happened..."

"Just happened? That doesn't just happen!" 

"Well, it's not my fault you're bending over on your knees right before me! And trousers are too bloody tight!" Rolan finally cracks out before letting you go. 

Rolan tries to walk away, but he can't get far in the tight tunnel of rocks you're in. You were ready to make fun of him and call him a pervert, but as you see his back facing you, you notice his tail twisted tightly to his old leg. He's embarrassed…

"Rolan, " you try meekly, but you're still not quite sure what to say. You have urges, but it's nothing to be embarrassed about."

Rolan Scoffs before turning to look at you, "It's not urges... It's you."

You look at him, Surprised, "Me?"

"Yes!" Rolan finally faces you, fully dragging his hands over his face before continuing. "You're a damned airhead never paying attention and staring off... and in the mornings, you're so drowsy, unable to function till you eat... After your baths, you have no qualms just walking around in a towel; you always stand so bloody close! And you argue till you're blue!" 

Rolan's eye meets yours and furrows his brows, "Then there's that damn pout…"

You look at him confused, "Pout?" 

He steps closer, still irritated, and taps his finger to your bottom lip, "Yes, this little pout you do with your lips makes you look so adorable... So it's not your ass that's driving me so crazy, it's just you, Your making me fucking mad over here," 

It leaves you speechless; not only is Rolan confessing... but he's also cursing. 

Rolan rolls his eyes before moving his hand away, "Figures this is when you finally shut up." 

Your next move was so fast it gave you whiplash. You quickly grab Rolan, making him turn, gently cup his face, and you press your lips to him before you can say anything. The kiss heats up quickly as Rolan wraps his arms around you while you preach your tongue. through his lips, finally tasting his wicked tongue.

It's not long before you're both on the ground, your clothes in a gathered pile on the side while you finally succumb to both of your desires... your mission is no longer on your mind... The only thing you can think of as you claw his back is how full Rolan is making you feel and if you can keep indulging in him till morning.

Cal

Of course, when the grove's gate was running short on watchmen for the late-night watch, you were among the first to volunteer for the dull duty. You did not expect Cal to hold his hand to join you on the watch right after you volunteered. Cal is so tall and strong and a complete sweetheart; you two have slowly gotten to know each other more and more each day your party stays at the grove. Cal's become your little bright spot through these struggles. He always smiles and jokes with you whenever you come around. Sometimes, you feel guilty for taking up his time. It's clear he doesn't get much time to himself, considering he has to keep Lia and Rolan from killing each other, but you just can't help yourself when it comes to him.

Now that you're here with him, sitting out in the cold with only the sounds of the distant woods filling the space, you're finding one more thing you can't help... you're so nervous! After all the conversations you two have had, why is this the time you're getting clammed up?! It makes no sense... So now here you two sit completely alone and in complete silence... You're trying to think of anything to talk about as you rub your hands together to try and make them warmer from the biting cold.

While you're warming up your hands or trying to, Cal is reaching over and taking your hands in his. Instantly, in his touch, your hands warm up from his comfortable heat. You look at him wordlessly, trying to hide the fact that your heart is currently racing, making your whole body start to flush.

"Is that better?" he smiles as he holds your hand tightly. You're tempted to start chattering your teeth so he can hold you.

"Much better; it must be so nice to always be warm."

"It was more of a burden, especially during the summers, I always get so hot, and I would come home dripping in sweat." 

You two share a laugh, but you see a negative thing about him, especially if he is shirtless. The thought sends an excited shiver through your body, and Cal looks at you confused. "Still trembling, huh? We can't have our hero freezing now, can we?"

Cal brings his hand to your hip, sliding you until you're flushed against his side. He wraps his arms around you like it's the most normal thing ever, and it's taking everything in you not to cling to him.

Cal's breath is so warm that it fans against your ear. "They would have my head if anything happened to you... So I better try and warm you up quickly."

"I think you're doing a great job at that..."

He smiles as his orange eyes trace over you. He brings his hand to cup your face and traces his thumb over your cheeks. "I must be. You look like you're running a fever now." Quickly, you bring your own hands to your cheeks, where, of course, they are fuming!

"Guess you're just too hot for me..." 

As soon as the words slip from your mouth, you want to slap yourself. You're too embarrassed to look at what you sure is an embarrassed face, but all you hear is his laughter, 

Cal turns your face so you have to look at him. "As long as I'm helpful to you, that's all I care about."

"I think you're helpful to everyone, I know Rolan and Lia think so."

"I'm kind of selfish if I'm being honest," Cal meekly admits. Selfish? You would describe Cal in many different ways, but selfish is not one of them.

"Why would you say that?"

It's Cal's turn to blush as he shyly looks into the distance. "Well, I didn't offer to be on watch for the good of the grove... I did it so I could spend time with you…"

You laugh at his confession, "You could have just told me that Cal."

"I couldn't help it! You make me nervous!" You both look at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

Cal grabs you close, practically pulling you into his lap." We should keep taking over the late watches, then. I like that here I get you all to myself. "You feel that same heartbeat rush again. If you're going to continue to get closer to Cal, you're going to need to learn how to settle your nerves.

Kieran

Look out, duty... it should be easy; you have a wire of copper read for your sending spell to Gale... you just have to wait till you see the mercenaries for your party to act... If they slip past you, it can mean several more weeks of tracking down that tome that went missing from the Wizards tower. Tensions have been growing at camp, mainly because everyone just wants to return home... but you can't help from thinking everyone at camp is peeved at you…

Damn him for distracting you... It's a mistake you swear will not happen again; you're supposed to be the leader, the one to see past bull shit... not the one falling for it.

However, when you think back on his smooth voice... Shining eyes... anyone could have been ensnared. Kieran just has that effect on people. 

Pushing down those past thoughts, you look back at the moonlit road, looking for any signs of life. A twig snaps behind you, and before you can react, a hand is over your mouth, and a knife is threatening your neck. Then, the familiar feeling of a tail twisting up your body makes you squirm. 

The same arrogant chuckle vibrates through the air before his velvet voice speaks, "I was told to find any lookouts, and here I've found a lost kitten." his lips come right to the shell of your ear, giving a teasing lick, making you groan and squirm, "Trying to get in everyone's good graces again by playing lookout pretty girl?"

Your huff is enough for him to understand your irritation, but he only seems to delight in it further. He pushes the knife closer to your neck, "Alright, kitten. I'm going to move my hand so I can hear that pretty voice. You better not try anything?"

You huff, then nod, "Good."

Kieran lets his hand drop from your mouth, but before you can turn, he's wrapping his arms around you, keeping you pinned close, his tail tightening for added measure. You hiss at the tight grip and try hard not to blush as his lips press to your neck.

"So you're working for the mercenaries, I should have known...". You practically growl at him; Kieran smiles before giving a quick nip at your neck. It takes everything in you not to whimper at the attention; he's toying with you..."Well, they did pay well... but honestly, that group is so dull... hints as to why I haven't slit that pretty throat of yours, kitten.

"What do you want Kieran?"

He smiles, holding you tighter, burying his face into the nape of your neck as his cock rubs against your ass. "I want to hear those soft little moans again like I did that night.." 

You feel yourself flush, that night….

You bite your lip as you feel his hands roam down over your breast to your waist... You hate how dumb he makes you... but it would be a lie to say you hate the way he feels... 

"I-I can't... You whisper, trying to hold strong all Kieran has to do is lightly suck your neck and play with the hem of your trousers.

"But you can be a good girl; you help me... and I will help you....."

A part of you knows this has to be some trick... he's played with you before... You're on a mission, and he's with the enemy... but when you feel his hot tongue teasing your skin and his fingers roam, you melt.

Kieran doesn't wait for your confirmation; the feeling of your body relaxing is all he needs before pushing his hand down your pants. His long fingers quickly find your clit toying and pitching it, making you twitch and arch. It's when he steadily starts to roll his fingers on your sensitive nub that you start to softly whimper. 

"That's it, kitten... feels good, huh?" He purrs in your ear, only spurring you on more. Kieran licks his lips as he feels you get as wet for him. 

You unravel so quickly for him, softly moaning his name as you reach your arms behind you to caress his neck and handsome face. Kieran is all too pleased as he starts to fuck you slowly with his two fingers.

The sudden intrusion makes you keenly loud, but he is quick to shush you softly. "Shh, kitten. You have to be quiet, or we will get caught... and we don't want that, do we?"

You shake your head, not making Kieran speed up his pace, forcing you to bite your lip.

"Good girl..."

+++++

Your party walks back to camp defeated... the mercenaries slipped past you.....

Astarion glares his eyes at you, "How the hell did you do now? You miss them! What Were you doing?"

Shadowheart steps between you two". Enough; fighting now won't fix it. We will have a new plan tomorrow, Right Tav?" She looks at you expectantly, and you avoid her gaze. You let everyone down again. 

You walk over to your tent, ready to hide away, when something catches your eye. You open the flap, and the missing tome—covered in blood and a note beside the book—catches your eye next. 

A deal, a deal, kitten... I will See you again soon... K

Zevlor

You're unsure if you're more nervous that everyone is counting on you to tell them when the last tent's candle goes out... or you're alone with Zevlor at your lookout spot.

This was just supposed to be a simple stealth mission to check out a nearby camp, and then Zevlor would come with you. This would have been normally very exciting for you, but after what you did, now you're mortified. 

What do you even say to someone after impulsively kissing them and running away? Turning around, you see where Zevlor is standing, his fiery eyes already on you. You watch as his eyes move from your lips back to your eyes, and it feels like you've been hit by a fireball. 

Quickly, you turn back around, trying to hide your embarrassment. Zevlor must hate you now. Trying to focus back on your mission, you try to ignore the sound of his rustling armor and the new warmth at your side. You don't have to look over to know that Zevlor is at your side. What you didn't expect, however, was when he gently pulled your face towards him, forcing you to meet his handsome face staring at you with an authoritative intensity.

"Are we supposed to ignore what happened? Because I am unsure if I can." He says so calmly that it sends a shiver through you. He is so commanding that he doesn't need to raise his voice, and you will still do whatever he says. 

"Do you hate me now, Zevlor..." He looks surprised for a moment before he puts on his charming smile. 

"No, I think the best way to explain it is now I am completely enamored and anxious for more." 

From the start, there's been a pull between you two, but now, instead of an aching want, that feeling is now a burning need.

A burning need to have his lips back on yours, to taste his tongue against yours, to feel his warmth against you as he pins you against the nearest thing. 

You need to wrap your legs around his waist, you need to hear his soft moans as you kiss along his neck, and you need to feel his cock as deep as possible as he finally sheaths himself inside of you. You just hope your companions understand your need when they ask why you never gave the signal…