#sorry if I got any of this wrong I'm not familiar with these ^^;;

[ridiasfangirlings]

au where idol k is a reality competition show and the popularity pool result is the final round up (which means yata and fushimi get to debut in the same group, yay?) (also, idk if you are familiar with korean reality shows like produce 101 or boys planet, but they usually arrange the seats in a way that the #1 seat is at the top and its usually a big deal where the trainees choose to sit on the first day. They can also kick other idols out of their seats in whichever way both trainees choose to compete for the seat, but this is usually done for the #1 seat)

Can you imagine that group, not just Yata and Fushimi debuting together but also Mikoto and Munakata too, the rest of the group would be trying just to keep those four from killing each other or destroying the set. Yata and Fushimi would probably be early frontrunners even from the start, like Yata's energy and Fushimi's mysterious aura of gloom make them very popular amongst the audience. Initially they take seats on opposite sides but maybe after the first round of voting Yata ends up first and in the middle seat, he's all proud of himself and gloating to Fushimi, who immediately decides to challenge him. From that point on the two of them are constantly swinging between who's in first and who's second, complaining that 'who would want to debut with you' even when it's more than clear that they're both going to end up in the final group together.

Meanwhile the rest of the group are all doing their best to be noticed with those two causing all the chaos. Munakata is the smooth polished idol who commands attention from the moment he steps on the stage while Mikoto's very lackadaisical about the whole thing, imagine Munakata always having to lecture him about trying his hardest for the fans and Mikoto just yawns in his face. Despite their differences the two are only below Yata and Fushimi, maybe something happens halfway through that nearly gets Mikoto disqualified and there's a whole storyline about how Munakata reacts (by appearing disapproving but really he's irritated that Mikoto could have blown his whole career). The whole issue also involves Mikoto's fellow trainees Kusanagi and Totsuka, say Totsuka has to leave for a while after being shot by a crazed fan and Munakata thinks Kusanagi has been encouraging Mikoto's poor behavior in the aftermath. This causes Mikoto's popularity to momentarily dip, but once the whole thing is resolved and Totsuka returns Mikoto jumps back up to just one spot below Munakata. Mikoto would prefer to take a seat as far from Munakata as possible but you know wherever he ends up sitting Munakata just so happens to show up next to him.

For the rest of the group, I imagine Kuroh and Shiro trying to be low key in the background, Kuroh working hard quietly and trying to avoid drama while Shiro sits next to him a lot and they become friends. Kuroh does have some issues when his adoptive brother Yukari ends up joining the show too and becomes popular, Yukari's true passion is beauty but he believes that can be found in singing as well. Kuroh had thought that Yukari gave up on performing when he left their training with idol producer Ichigen Miwa, Yukari however met up with young up and coming idol trainee Hisui and now they're a team, this probably somehow turns into Kuroh and Shiro versus Yukari and Hisui and Shiro's like I thought we were avoiding drama. Meanwhile actually avoiding drama are dark horse underdogs Doumyouji and Akiyama, who no one even noticed were constantly polling highly until they make the final group.

[velvetydream]

꒰ :🥀 [ Till death do us part ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : What if Alastors dear little darling wife, his partner in crime, the person he thought he'd never see again, turns up with Mimzy on the day of the visit of the big boss of hell.

Pairing : Alastor x fem! Reader

Word count : 1899 Words

Genre : Fluff , Drama , Angst

Warnings ➵ Mentions of death, you're shorter than

Vaggie, possessive Alastor, swearing

Prequel -> > The radio star lost <

a/n : I love this trope ngl, tried to not make him to much out of character, hope it worked.. T T

Also I'm rather new to Hazbin Hotel, so I say sorry if anythings seems wrong or out of character! ><

┌───────────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

The whole hotel was a bit chaotic right now, Lucifer himself would be visiting in just a bit and Charlie wanted everything to be perfect. Colorful decorations were hanging everywhere, a banner was hung up for welcoming the king of hell, how does one even welcome the king of hell into their hotel? Charlie was probably the most stressed of all, but Vaggie did her best to calm her nervous wreck of a girlfriend down.

The moment Lucifer stepped into the hotel was meant to make everything go down, Alastor and his Ego had somehow always a snarky remark against Lucifer. Charlie tried her best to keep them apart, introducing her other friends, before she announced how she would be needing his help. And again the banter between the king of hell and the radio demon started all over again. As if throwing insults at each other before wasn't enough already, now they were pulling at Charlie left and right, like two babies fighting over a toy.

But all things come to an end, which Charlie was thankful for right now, as Mimzy, apparently a friend of Alastor, which was interesting to know he even had any, came barging in with a grand entrance. As the woman now settles down at the bar, talking with the others, Alastor and Charlie took Lucifer on a walk around, Husker disappearing for a second too, but soon joining them at the bar again, a scowl on his face, but something else, undescribable behind his eyes.

A bang was heard through the whole hotel as the entrance door was slammed open and heard could be an angry voice. "MIMZY! You little bitch!" A demon, a slight bit shorter than Vaggie probably, walked in. A scowl evident on the face, as her eyes scan over the place, before falling on the woman she was looking for. "How dare you leave me in the shit like that?! You've got it coming if those sharks don't kill you, I certainly will!" Ignoring the questioning looks of Angel and Husker, you stomp over to the blonde, ready to yank at her hair, when suddenly a bit of debris was thrown through the window and landed beside you, barely missing you by a hair. "The fuck?" The demon's head craned around, looking out the window and there they were, those fuckers Mimzy was in debt to.

You didn't really have time to react much, as three people stormed into the entrance hall, all you could catch was a glimpse of red before the person ran outside, screams of the sharks could be heard, at least those were finally taken care of.

The loan sharks were gone and fought off quickly by that person, his voice now directed to Mimzy, your own eyes on her yourself with a scowl. She and that red demon apparently knew each other quite well, as Mimzy was walking to the door, you finally really looked at the demon. He had short red and black hair, ears sat atop his head, despite scowling Mimzy he was smiling, though a sinister smile it seems. His attire was almost completely red too, a cane was clutched in his hands, as he watched Mimzy walk off, you could only make out a small part of his face. The man seemed so familiar as if you had known him for a long time.. Your heart was running a mile right now, it was getting hard to breathe, and then...

"Thank you Alastor, really.." The long-haired blonde spoke up.. That name, it couldn't be right? Mimzy would've told you, she knew him, she would've definitely told you.. right? You must be mistaken right now.. Your eyes were fixated on the man called Alastor, the voices and sounds around you were all a mush, drowned out as your brain was going all around. Now that you could see his face, he definitely had some resemblance to him.. to your late husband, who had died before you. You were his assistant, his partner in crime, when the news hit you that he was shot, it broke your heart, but still, you continued on alone, killing. That's probably what also got you to hell, well sooner than later you were figured out and soon arrived here in hell.

"Yo smiles, this girly is gawking at you for minutes now." Slowly voices were coming back to you, the white spider beside you talked, pointing his thumb at you, the red-haired now meeting your eyes, his ears straightening and standing alert like the ones of a deer caught in headlight. What irony if he was your Alastor, the irony of dooming him with deer-like features, after getting shot assumed for a deer while hiding one of the many bodies. That day you decided to let him go alone, oh if you just hadn't done that, maybe you both would be alive or you would've at least arrived together in hell.

Alastor was taking slow steps to you, the smile on his face looking strained, yet it never disappeared, his hand was reaching out for you but stopped. Eyes moving over your form, taking in everything. Resemblance to his wife evident, but.. how did he never notice you before? Had he ever met you, walked past, maybe even taken a second glance but dismissed this feeling he has right now.

Swiftly he grabs your wrist, dragging you behind him, ignoring the calls of his name of the other residents, his mind plagued by one only thought, more like one only person.. you.

Stumbling behind him, his grip rather firm on your wrist, yet it felt comforting as if you knew he would never hurt you. Not in your lifetime and also not now in your afterlife. Eyes watching the back of his head, you were wondering what expression his face harbors right now. Was he happy? Was he confused? Disappointed? Maybe he knew where you were all this time but didn't want to meet you. No, he wasn't like this. He may have been distant sometimes while alive, but in the end, he was always a darling to you. Taking care of you, just as he vowed on your wedding day. A distant memory, yet one of the most beautiful ones you have.

A door was opened and as you were pulled inside, the door closed. Steps echoed through the room, you noticed a forest on the other side of the room, but that didn't rather faze you, eyes on him again.. and him only. "Al-" You were interrupted by laughter, the man before you was hugging himself, his arms around him, yet you still weren't able to see his face. "D-Do you know.. How often have I thought about you?!" His voice was loud, a static sound like from a radio accompanied it. One of his hands was tearing at his hair now. "That bitch never told me... I'll make sure to kill her for that.. She kept you from me.." The laughter got even louder, as if the man before you was going insane.

This behavior was nothing new to you, he used to be like this, high on adrenalin when another murder was successful.. Or when he was close to being figured out by the police and detectives, yet he always slipped away right through their incapable fingers.

"I always wondered what happened to you, if you grew old with someone new.." If you were able to see his face right now, you would be able to see the sinister yet possessive smile on his face, his eyes darting around the room.

This all ended in a second when he felt a soft hand on his. He knew this hand, he also knew the person it belonged to like the front of his pocket. "I would never, I carried on alone in your memories, yet I was never as skilled as you darling, so sooner than later they connected all the dots to me." A low chuckle could be heard again, the static radio sound calmed down again too. The tall man slowly turned around now, his hand engulfing your own, his fingers softly running over your own, before he linked them together. How he had missed this feeling, despite having a distaste for people touching him, you were different. Your touch felt warm, like the summer sun kissing his skin, it felt comforting.

"I've missed you mon amour.." His voice was soft, probably the softest it had ever been since he had arrived in hell. His hand guides yours up to his lips, as he closes his eyes and presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand, a smile, now softer, on his lips. He was never one for kissing you on the lips, he definitely favored kissing your hand, like the gentleman he has always been. "I figured with how you were talking seconds ago my dear.." A soft smile was creeping up onto your lips too, mirroring his own one. Red eyes open again, your hand still pressed to his face, but now he was rather holding your hand to his cheek. "Oh how I wished I could've stayed with you my darling, we would've been so successful.." Giggling at his words, with him at your side, you probably would have been going for a long time. "But who says we can't be successful now?" A smirk etched its way onto your husband's face, oh how he loved your daring little mind, always thirsting for blood. With you by his side again now, he would definitely be able to get everything done that he wanted.

"Shall we go back? I want to meet your friends properly." Wanting to pull away your hand, he softly gives you a tug, your head landing on his chest now. Wide eyes look the the side now, as you weren't really able to move, his arms having snaked around you and his chin resting on your head. This was unusual much physical contact, but figured that you hadn't seen each other for multiple decades he yearned for your touch just a slight bit. Your arms lying around him, embracing the hug. "Let's just stay here a few minutes more, we got enough time to introduce you to everyone down there but for now.. let me have you for myself." Nodding softly, your head rests on his chest, as your eyes close and you simply enjoy the presence of your dearly beloved husband.

"What do you mean 'married to smiles'?!" Angel, as he was introduced to you, shouted from his place on the couch now, staring at you flabbergasted. "We've been married for quite a few years before his death." Smiling you answered his question. Alastor didn't like all the attention you were getting, but sooner than later he would have you all to himself again when you two go back to his cozy hotel room or the radio tower. "So you two fu-" Angel wasn't even able to finish his question before he shut himself up as he noticed the look on Alastors face. This time he would've been dead for sure if he finished that question.

Overall everyone invited you happily into their little hotel family, it was amazing. Charlie immediately took a liking to you and if you're being honest she quickly was viewed by you like a daughter.

[gentlenotes-moved]

(vent in tags)

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Matchmaker Merle

Warnings: slight drug use, mentions of Lori, Daryl is a virgin, Shane being Shane, No use of Y/N, unprotected sex

Summary: Merle tries to get Daryl laid with an old family friend. Apparently, Merle is a master matchmaker? Buildup to smut. 

Notes: Sorry for having the buildup so slow, I'm really bad at porn without at least a LITTLE plot lmao

You were allowed a little leeway your first day at camp. Glenn had found you, confused and lost, covered in dirt and blood after the bombs had gone off and separated you from your friends and family. You were on the highway, like everyone else, but as soon as they saw the city being lit up, all hell broke loose. They started acting like animals. Running and screaming, looting. The dead coming back to life didn't help much either. 

On your second day, you were expected to start pitching in. You didn't mind helping, it was the way Shane approached you that rubbed you the wrong way. You offered to help hunt, fish, and go out looking for supplies, but he just laughed at you. He laughed like you were a child asking for a gun. He handed you a brush and sat you down beside Carol, who was washing clothes at the bottom of the quarry. 

You found comfort in familiarity. Which came in the form of something extremely unexpected, Merle Dixon. Maybe it was because you'd seen each other a few times at the corner store back near where you lived, maybe it was the fact he had respect for your folks, but when you were taken back to camp he didn't treat you the way he treated the other women. 

He wasn't respectful or chivalrous by any means, but he didn't treat you like a piece of meat. He didn't constantly try to get in your pants or speak to you in that slimy demeaning way he had with Andrea or Amy. You were grateful for it, even if you did catch him staring at your ass more than once, because he was the one thing that made you feel a little more at home with the group.

You'd never met his brother before. You'd seen him once, at the small mechanic shop near the corner store you'd occasionally see Merle in. Rednecks were anything but rare where you grew up, but something about Daryl felt different. He was quieter, more of Merle's shadow than his own person. But you knew just by looking at him that he was anything but somebody's shadow.

He saw you on your second day, after you'd done your morning “chores” and went to sit next to the campfire. He was carving something, maybe a bolt for his crossbow, and he barely looked up when you sat down across from him. 

Daryl looked up again, a spark of recognition in his eyes. His voice, strong and firm, called your name as if it was a question. 

“Yes?” You could see the exact moment the realization clicked that he did in fact remember you.

He didn't know much about you at all. He knew Merle knew your folks, and you lived pretty close, but he'd never actually spoken to you before. 

He did like to watch you, though, you'd always go into the corner store next to the mechanic shop and buy a coke and a bag of chips at lunch. He thought you were the prettiest woman he'd ever seen. Merle had a different set of words he'd prefer to use for you, but Daryl thought they felt too nasty. You weren't white trash, you were pretty, out of place, and the words ‘hot piece of ass' just didn't fit you. 

“Shit. Didn't think it was you when they said your name yesterday.” His fingers absentmindedly rubbed the length of his stick, looking over you a few times as he tongued the inside of his cheek in thought. “Huh. You seen Merle yet?” 

“Yeah, I got here yesterday morning.” You answered, the day before Daryl had been gone most of the day hunting. By the time he got back you were already in your new tent, something that Glenn had made sure to pick up when he brought you back to his group. 

“What happened? Your folks alright?” He asked, knowing it was strange for you to be here without your family and friends. 

“I have no idea. Don't remember much. We were real close to the city when the bombs went off, all I remember is fire and screaming and I woke up in the back of a gas station.” 

He nodded again, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he listened. 

Daryl wanted to stay with you, talk for a while, having a familiar face made him feel like less of an outsider. But from the corner of his eye he saw Shane with his hands on his hips in that stupid pose he liked to do when he was about to give someone  attitude. Daryl looked back to you and gathered his crossbow and bolts, muttering a quick excuse about needing to go hunt and that he'd see you around. He couldn't stand Shane, he'd only known him for a few weeks, give or take, and he was doing everything he could to avoid the wife fucker. 

Shane gave you a talking to that evening, warning you about the “backwoods rednecks”, even though you knew it wasn't out of the kindness of his heart. It was just another way to control the people in his camp, something he got off on doing. He didn't trust either of the Dixon brothers, that was for certain, but going out of his way to ‘warn’ you? It took everything in you to just nod and say okay. 

“When you gonna tap that, baby brother?” Merle's voice and the way he said it made Daryl cringe. He needed to do a better job about not staring at you so blatantly. 

“Not my type.” Daryl lied through his teeth, picking another strip of stringy squirrel meat from the stick he'd used to roast it over the fire. 

The Dixon brothers usually had a smaller, separate fire away from the main groups. It was mostly Merle's idea, he'd tell Daryl ‘they're not like us, keep your distance, we're just redneck trash to them.’. Not that Daryl gave a shit. He mostly thought the same anyways. 

You were at the group fire, sitting beside Andrea and Amy, who were busy chattering about how they wished they could catch some fish instead of surviving off tree rats and canned peas. You didn't mind it, even though you preferred larger game, meat was meat. You ate your squirrel like it was a gourmet dinner, something Daryl took note of.

“Not your type? Hah! That's bullshit and we both know it. She's everybody's type, boy, you better get on that before someone else does.”

Daryl wasn't sure who Merle was referring to. Glenn could barely speak to women, T-Dog was far too respectful, Shane was so far up Lori’s ass he had shit in his ears. (That's so gross I'm so sorry) 

The sound of harsh sniffing had Daryl looking away from you and back to his brother. He wiped the white residue from his nose and offered Daryl his large knife, containing another line. 

“Nah. I'm good.” Daryl waved him off, not feeling like being on uppers around all these people. Made his temper even shorter than it already was. “Careful with that shit, if Shane sees-”

“He ain't gonna do shit about it. I'd like to see him say somethin’.” The fact Merle was always looking for an excuse to butt heads had Daryl on edge. “Take it, and go take her off in the woods before I do.” 

It never took too much demanding from Merle before Daryl would give in. It was a fatal flaw in his character. He looked up to him and whatever he said went, even when he didn't really want to. So he took the coke and worked up the nerves to talk to you. 

You'd just finished washing everyone's stupid dirty dishes and went into the woods to piss when you saw Daryl again. You gasped as you walked around the tree you'd used for cover and saw him walking through the treeline, worried he'd seen you. But he was too focused on his steps, and that put you at ease. 

You walked up the half-assed trail to meet him, not feeling like chatting next to your pee puddle. 

“Hey, you going hunting?” You asked, slipping your hands in your shorts pockets. 

He shook his head as he reached you, snatching a stray stick out of his hair. “Goin’ down to some of the old shops down the road. Tired of all these canned peas. You comin’?”

You eagerly nodded, happy to be away from the group. They were nice enough, but since you normally hung around Merle, they treated you as someone they didn't fully trust. Especially Lori, Shane and Dale. The amount of times you caught Lori staring daggers into you every time you were within ten feet of Carl was starting to drive you insane. 

“Been wanting to get out and do something for days. Can't fucking stand Shane's micromanaging.” You said as you walked, wishing you would've known you'd be going on an impromptu supply run. You only had your knife, you'd prefer to have your Ruger your father had given you. It was in the RV, where Shane had taken it to ‘clean’. You were more than suspicious that he just didn't want you carrying a gun around camp. 

Daryl snorted. “Yeah. Can't stand that asshole. What kinda man-” He stopped himself, shaking his head. 

“What?” You looked over at him, careful not to trip on the multiple storm blown  branches from the larger trees. 

“Nothin’. Just don't like ‘em.” 

You were silent for a few minutes as you thought of something to say. You know, in apocalypse type situations, you mainly think about securing your next meal, how to not get killed in your sleep, how to protect your friends and family. But here you were, trying to think of what to say to a man you were steadily growing attracted to. You always thought he was cute before this, but seeing how capable he was, how he was so sure of himself, it was a side to him you didn't expect. It was like he was one of those people always secretly hoping for an excuse to go live in the woods and live in anarchy. 

“How attached are you to this group?” He asked, catching you off guard. 

“Not at all. Can't stand most of them. Why?” 

“Just thinkin’ about leavin’. Don't belong here with these people. Lori screamed at a damn snake the other day and got the kids all riled up.” He had a visible look of distaste on his face. Of all things to scream your head off at in an apocalypse, wildlife wasn't on your list. 

“Are you asking me to come?” You asked, unsuccessfully attempting to hide your excitement. The idea of splitting off with the Dixon brothers seemed your best bet, even if Merle was, well, Merle. You knew you were probably one of the only women on earth that didn't have to worry about him constantly trying to get in your pants. What you didn't know though, was that he was trying his damnedest to get his little brother laid, even if you were the daughter of a family friend. 

“Yeah. You don't belong here either.” You didn't know if it was true or not, but it felt true to you. 

“Sure. As long as I'm not gonna be a burden, or anything.” You knew you'd need to rely on the two of them for protection and some food, at least until you got used to your new life. You adapted fairly quickly. 

“Wouldn't’ve asked if you were.” 

“Alright, well, if you make up your mind, let me know.”

You arrived at the first store, a small gas station much like the one the two of you used to frequent back then. It was fairly untouched, but you knew it wouldn't be that way for long. 

You broke into a bag of jerky, thankful it was Daryl with you and not anyone else. If someone gave you a speech on taking care of the group before yourself you might just take off on your own without Daryl. 

He scored a bunch of chips, some cup noodles, and a 6 pack of beer for Merle. 

Instead of going back like you'd originally planned, you talked each other into going further off down the road to an old Dollar General. You stored your stash in a hollowed out log next to the road so you wouldn't need to carry it the entire time and carried on. 

“This was a great idea.” Your tongue was stained red from sour patch kids, you went through five bags and gave Daryl the greens and yellows. 

Daryl licked the sour crystals from his fingertips and grunted in agreement, tossing the empty bag over his shoulder off the roof that the two of you had gone up to to indulge in your spoils. 

You laid on your back and sighed, surrounded by empty snack bags and wrappers. “Fuck. I needed this.” Neither of you cringed at your corny comment, because although a cliche, you really, really did need this. 

Daryl hadn't eaten much besides the gummies, thanks to being pressured into taking the coke by Merle. He cursed himself for it, wishing he had the nerve to just say no and stick with it. 

He glanced over at you, your body orange in the light of the setting sun. You still wore those cute short Bobbie Brooks shorts he'd always seen you wearing around town. His eyes drifted to your legs and he let out a soft exhale, wishing he was as silver tongued as he thought his brother was. Even if the ladies rarely appreciated Merle's filthy flirting, he had to admit his one liners were pretty impressive sometimes. 

You opened your eyes and used your hand as a shield from the sun to look at him. You'd barely caught him staring at your legs, and felt a smile tug at your lips. 

“You wanna fool around?” You half joked, prepared to laugh if he turned you down. But the look on his face told you he really, really didn't want to turn you down. 

He froze for a moment, his eyes looking anywhere but you, his heart hammering against his chest. His thoughts ran frantic, from Merle telling him to have sex with you, and to you, who he was terrified to have sex with. He was suddenly very grateful for the coke he'd taken, and it clicked in his mind why Merle had been so insistent on him taking it. He knew he wouldn't last three minutes without it. 

“You serious?” He asked, his brows knitted tightly together from the sun and in concentration as he read your face. 

“Yeah, why not?” You shrugged, sitting upright so you didn't have to keep squinting up at him. You looked cool on the outside, but on the inside you were barely holding it together. You'd never thought of Daryl this way before, given you'd only seen him once before all this, but now that you were, it felt like you were about to potentially have sex with the hottest man on earth. 

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” 

Awkward was an understatement. Daryl didn't know what to do with his hands. His dick had been hard off and on the whole trip with you, despite the coke. He didn't know what would feel good to you, something he found himself oddly concerned with. His only experience with women was watching them getting fucked in porn, so he tried it that way. 

Your eyes widened in surprise when he quickly turned and leaned over you, his hands slipping up your shirt. He choked out a gasp, looking down at the outline of his hands as he squeezed your tits. You were caught off guard by his sudden boldness, and the way he was roughly groping your chest wasn't helping. You grimaced, about to tell him to ease up, but he caught your mouth in an unexpected kiss before you could speak. 

You were way too horny to care about how messy his kissing was. Truthfully, it was pretty hot, filled with so much desire and lust that it didn't matter he was inexperienced. The fact he was this eager just because of you had you moaning into his mouth. 

He took that as a sign he was doing something right and rolled your nipples between his fingers, doing what felt right. He pinched them, making you gasp against his lips, and he couldn't hide the crooked grin from his face. He pulled back just long enough to start unbuttoning your shirt. 

You took over for him, not wanting him to get impatient and rip off one of your only good shirts. When his eyes landed on your chest he whimpered, he fucking whimpered! You groaned at the sound and pulled him back against you by his shoulders, sinking your head into the crook of his neck to kiss the skin there. 

He hadn't expected you to do anything to him. In the videos he watched, most of the time the dude just rips her clothes off and fucks her in different positions for half an hour while she screams and moans like she's hurt. He hated that sound, the over exaggerated noises, he much preferred the noises you made. 

You laid down on your back, grateful the sun had sunk below the tips of the trees so it wasn't so bright anymore. He was on you in a second, now kissing your neck, eager to give you the same pleasure you were making him feel. The moan that rumbled in your chest made his heart jump, knowing he was doing something right. 

“God, s’so good.” You exhaled lazily, your eyes closing as he used his knee to kick your thighs apart for his waist. He quickly ground against you, a stifled groan stuck in his throat at the feeling of friction. 

“Take ‘em off.” He demanded, tugging impatiently at your shorts before he went to unbuckle his belt. You happily obliged, unbuttoning your shorts and dragging them down your thighs. 

When Daryl saw your lacy red panties he shivered. At camp, most of the underwear he saw hanging up were more… practical? The women had quickly changed their lace panties and thongs for boy shorts, but here you were, the skin around your hips indented obscenely from the way they hugged you like magic. 

“Fuck.” He exhaled deeply, his forehead resting against yours as he looked down at your body under his. He was really, really glad Merle gave him coke. Just the sight of you mostly naked under him had his cock throbbing painfully.

He finished with his pants, only pulling them down enough to drag his leaking dick out, his jaw dropping when he saw you shimmying out of your panties. His head spun, his mouth watered, and before he could even think he was scooting down to plant his face between your legs. 

You gasped, your head falling back against the rough flooring of the roof. He was so eager., so heartbreakingly eager to please you, it had your pussy so wet it was almost unbearable. His hot tongue was sloppy, inaccurate, it couldn't decide where it wanted to be. He'd be licking broad stripes one second, and the next he was swirling it around your clit. You were beginning to think maybe he wasn't as inexperienced as you believed. 

Daryl learned all he knew about sex from porn. If there was one thing he was fascinated about, it was giving head. One of the first things he always wanted to do was eat out a woman. He never thought it would be someone as hot as you. 

He tried everything he knew that made the women in videos moan, and to his surprise, you moaned the most when he kept it simple and just sucked your clit. So he did that, hollowing out his cheeks and sucking it into his mouth to roll his tongue around. 

You were in shambles. You tried desperately to pull at his hair, but it was too short to grab so you settled on sinking your nails into his scalp as you rolled your hips against his face and tried not to be so loud. 

Your jaw dropped and your eyes squeezed shut when he dug his tongue into the side of your clit, dragging your orgasm out so unexpectedly that you gasped. 

“Fuck, oh, oh god!” You sputtered, your thighs squeezing his head to hold him there as you came, your back arching and your toes curling so hard your foot almost cramped up. 

Daryl slipped his hand under him and grabbed his cock, stroking it as he felt your body tremble and jerk under him. He was sure this was a dream, he'd wake up any second in his tent with Merle snoring beside him and you all the way across camp. He squeezed his dick, milking the precum from his tip as your thighs finally relaxed. 

“My god. You're really good at that.” You panted, your eyes blurry as you watched him slide up your body and take its place on top of you. 

He grinned, knowing you were unintentionally starting to give him an ego. “Yeah?” He racked his brain for dirty talk, but since it was fried from making you cum, all he could come up with was “I got somethin’ I'm even better at.” Complete lie. 

You, on the other hand, had no idea he was a virgin, and grinned widely at the implications, shifting your body up till you felt his heavy cock graze against your inner thigh. The feeling alone sent a bolt through your body, and your chest heaved with deep excited breaths. 

He leaned up and grabbed your shoulder, signaling for you to turn over. You didn't question it and rolled over, propping yourself on your hands and knees. 

The sight of you from behind had him falling apart. He let out a quiet whimper and bit his bottom lip before grabbing his cock and scooting forward to push it against you. 

“Jesus, so fuckin wet.” He breathed, his heart beating so loud he could hear the blood in his ears. He slid his dick between your folds, going through all the steps in his head that he'd seen countless times. He even slapped it against your pussy a few times, missing the amused expression on your face, and pushed himself into you. 

What Daryl  didn't learn from porn was that usually, you go in slow when someone hasn't had sex recently. So when he just pushed his dick inside you with no hesitation you cried out, the burn from the unprepared stretching making you jolt forward. He grabbed your hips to bring you back against him, his jaw going slack as he felt your hot wet walls squeezing the life out of him. 

“Fuck!” You spat, the burning and stabbing pain almost enough to turn you off completely. “You gotta be slower than that, Daryl.” 

He was too deep to process what you said. He finally let out the breath he'd been holding with a deep, guttural groan, still frozen inside you. “Sah-Sorry.” He sputtered, his hands squeezing your hips so hard you knew for a fact there'd be ten little light purple bruises there tomorrow. 

Before you could say or do anything else he started moving, setting the pace quickly, snapping his hips against your ass so roughly your hands almost slipped out from under you. The uncomfortable stretch quickly faded into a deep, primal pleasure, and soon you were letting out short moans with every thrust of his hips. 

You barely got used to the feeling before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked it back, drawing a cry from your throat. You weren't expecting this from Daryl, he was so confident, so rough, it confused you but drove you absolutely wild at the same time. 

His other hand kept its tight grip on your hip, pulling you back to meet each of his demanding thrusts, making sure his dick went as deep as possible each time. The way you were moaning and gasping fueled him to fuck you rougher, wanting to hear every sound that you were possible of making. 

“Dirty little whore.” He grunted, his jaw aching from how hard he'd been clenching his teeth. 

His words earned a strangled whimper from you, making his lips curl up in a cocky grin. 

He fucked you for a while like that, hips pounding against your ass so hard that the noises of your skin slapping was making your cheeks burn in embarrassed arousal. So much for keeping it quiet. 

“Hey-” The words were hard to get out from his aggressive thrusts, especially now that he was hunched over your body so he could squeeze your breasts. “I- wanna turn over.” 

He raised his chest from your back and took the opportunity to catch his breath while you shifted under him to roll over on your back. The look on your face made him shudder with a quiet gasp. Your face was tinted a light red, blissed out, your pupils blown and hair all messed up around your face. He was back on you immediately, kissing you hungrily as he slipped his cock back inside you, much easier this time. 

“Y’feel so fuckin’ good.” He breathed against your lips, wet from his sloppy kisses, and he kissed down your jaw to your neck. His accent was much thicker when he was inside you, barely pronouncing any words fully anymore. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist, angling your hips up so he could drive his cock deeper into you. The new feeling made him moan pathetically into your neck, and he had to stifle the noises he didn't like with a bite to the skin where your neck met shoulder. 

The pressure of his teeth had your eyes rolling back in your head. There was so much stimulation, his dick driving relentlessly into your throbbing pussy, his fingers pinching your nipple and the other hand in your hair, pulling your head to the side to give him better access to your neck. A particularly deep thrust made you cry out, and you felt yourself nearing your second orgasm.

“Fuck!” You whined, your eyes squeezing tightly shut as you felt the tension building in your core as he fucked his dick into you. 

“That's it, y’gonna come for me?” His teeth drew away from your red neck, a string of spit connecting the two of you. 

All you could muster was an obscene “Mhmm!”, your thighs squeezing him tight around the waist. 

“C'mon girl.” His words were choppy from the force of his thrusts. He slowed for a second, readjusting himself before building back up to his former quick pace, each thrust sending your body scooting a little upwards along the floor of the roof. You were incredibly thankful it wasn't concrete. 

“Lemme hear it, c'mon.” His words alone were enough to send you falling over your edge. Your jaw dropped, your head tilting back as your back arched under his heavy body, and his arm slipped under you to hold your chest tight against his. 

The look on your face and the feeling of you cumming around his dick was all he needed. His face went slack and he let out a shameful whine, something he'd never heard himself make before, and came inside you. Neither of you noticed, too fucked out of your minds to even process it. 

You cried under him, twisting and squirming, impaled on his dick as your orgasm shook you to your core. Only when the final waves rolled off you did you relax, your eyes struggling to open as your breathing slowed.

Daryl raised his face from your chest and looked down at you, enjoying the look on your face as he regained his bearings. He ran his hands up and down your torso a few times, his eyes appreciating every little red mark on your neck and chest from his teeth.

 Only when the last jolts of pleasure left his body did he realize he came inside you. 

“Shit.” He grunted as he slowly drug his dick out of you, his breath catching in his throat when he saw the way his cum oozed out between your slick, puffy folds. 

“Hmm, ‘s fine.” You mumbled lazily, reaching up to push your hair from your face. “We're on top of a Dollar General. We'll get the morning after pill.” 

He nodded at your words, still hypnotized by the sight of his cum leaking out of you. A deep part of him wanted to stuff his dick back in you and keep it in, he didn't know why, but the idea was so hot he could've gone for a round two if you wanted. 

“We better get back.” You struggled to prop yourself up on your elbows, your weakened muscles protesting. The sun was well below the trees now, and if you got back when it was dark you knew Shane would throw a goddamn hissy fit. 

“We ain't gotta.” He half joked, a lazy grin on his face. “Can just stay here. Go back in the mornin’.”

You smiled, shaking your head, even though the idea was incredibly tempting. “Shane will kill us.”

“Fuck him.”

“I don't wanna piss him off when he's the one in possession of my gun right now.” Your words had him raising his brows and nodding in agreement. 

The two of you put your clothes back on and went through the back entrance, grabbing all your bags and making sure to pick up some morning after pills from the locked shelf behind the front desk. You caught him trying to discreetly grab some condoms, not knowing you saw, and you felt excitement bubble in your chest at the prospect of him expecting this to happen again. 

Thankfully Shane wasn't in camp when you snuck back in. He was down by the quarry, catching frogs or some shit, and you were able to share your spoils with the group before he came to ask questions. 

“Well, shit. Look at you.” Merle was smiling ear to ear, clapping Daryl on the back after he went to his brother's tent with a bag of goodies. 

It was extremely obvious what the two of you had done. Your hair was still messy despite you brushing it with your fingers on the way back, your face pink, your neck red. You were climbing into your own tent as Merle watched you from across camp. 

Daryl's neck and face were also red, and he had a few scratch marks on the back of his neck. 

And his fly was still down. 

“Shut up.” Daryl shrugged his brother's hand off him, opening a bag of Funyuns.

“My baby brothers no longer a fuckin’ loser!” He laughed, giving a wolf whistle before playfully ruffling his hair. “Atta boy. I told you.” 

“Ya’ ain't tell me shit.” Daryl grumbled, stuffing Funyuns in his mouth to hide the smile that was creeping onto his face. 

“Hey.”

“What?” Daryl groaned, exasperated already. 

“Think she’ll give me a ride?”

“Shut the hell up, man.” 

[chunghasweetie]

Haiii i've never submitted a request so bare with me.

What do you think about a criminal jk who's been in prison for over a year (don't know what crime u can pick honestly) him and y/n are in a established relationship and she's been waiting all this time for him to get out. Anyway he comes home and yk.. i'm sure you can get the rest ;)

𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐘 | J.JK

— pairing | fem!oc x criminal!jjk

— summary | (sorry it took so long!🩷) jungkook’s been locked up for 4 years and he’s finally back to see you !

— warning | bad writing (i’m doing my best)

unprotected sex, cursing, praising, daddy kink, dirty talk, crying, fluff(?)

— word count | 3.5k words

— song suggestion | wrong in the right way — chris brown

It was his first night freed from his 4 year jail sentence. After having a buddy drop off his car on the way to her, he was finally there.

Locked up for assault and battery and countless other charges he was finally free and finally able to see his woman again.

His tatted, muscular body stood at her doorstep, “Fuck,” He exhaled, taking a drag from his cigarette.

He was anxious to see her after endless phone calls and letters for years. He surprised her a day early. He finally stopped thinking about it and knocked at her door.

“Coming!” She hurried down the stairs, not expecting any guests at that hour.

She was in her pajama outfit, hair lightly curled and her face bare beside some eye brightener.

She opened the door, and she had almost gone into shock.

She came to a full body pause, color practically draining from her face when she seen him. “J-Jungkook!”

Jungkook's eyes softened at the sight of her, seeing the tears. He stepped forward, grabbing her in a tight embrace.

“I missed you so fucking much Y/n.” He mumbled into her hair. His hands ran up and down her back, holding her close.

She sobbed, “You bastard! Why didn’t you let me know you got out early?! I would’ve picked you up, done my makeup better, took you to dinner—“ She rambled.

Jungkook pulled back, gazing down at her with a smirk.

“Because I wanted to surprise you, Y/n. And you look fucking perfect just like this.” He ran his hand through her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. “Finally face to face with my queen.”

“Fucking come in.” She sniffed. “All standing here in my doorway.” She hurried him in.

Jungkook stepped inside, his eyes scanning the apartment.

It looked a lot different than what he had remembered. It was a lot more modern and a bit girly. But it still felt like home.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume. He followed her to the living room, his eyes locked on her as she walked away from him. He couldn't help but grin.

He was finally home.

“Missed you so much” She sniffed. “I didn’t fucking plan anything— Shit. You gotta be hungry right? Are you cold?”

“Relax baby. I didn’t expect you to be completely ready tonight,” He wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her close to him.

“But yes, I am fucking starving. Even thought I just wanna sit here and hold you.” He nuzzled his face into her neck, breathing in her scent.

“No baby— Gotta take care of you first. Probably want to eat good. Prison must’ve been so rough.” She pouted, babying him.

“Yeah, it was. But nothing's worse than being away from you, ma. You know that, right?” He pulled away from her, turning her around to face him.

He cupped her cheeks, his thumbs rubbing against her soft skin. “I missed your smile, your laugh, your attitude. Everything Y/n.”

“I missed you more than you could imagine Jungkook.” Her lip quivered. “So much.”

“I know, ma. You always made sure I know. You were always the one person I could count on, even behind bars.” He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers.

The kiss was soft and gentle, but it held a depth of passion that only they could understood. “I love you.”

“I love you more. So much more.” She kissed him back, “I’ll cook for you. I’ll show you to our room— I fixed it up for you!”

She led him upstairs, rushing him due to her excitement. “Are you ready to see it?”

“I'm more than ready, ma. I've been dreaming of this moment for so long. I've missed our bed, our room, all of it."

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "You look stunning, ma. You've never looked more beautiful to me."

Their room looked more homey and relaxing. She bought him a whole new closet full of clothes and shoes to his liking.

“I bought you some new ashtrays to put on your nightstand.” She told him. “There’s some lighters down there too.”

“You're spoiling me. And I’m more than grateful. I can already smell the smoke wafting through the air. You know me more than anyone." He grinned, running his hand over the new clothes.

"I love what you've done here, ma. You really outdid yourself for me and I couldn’t thank you more.” He added, thanking her once more.

“Anyrhing for you. I wanted you to come home and feel comfortable and relaxed.” She smiled.

“Now go shower, change, whatever you need to do to get all that prison time off your skin.” She laughed. “I’m gonna go downstairs and cook you some food that’ll knock you the hell out.”

Jungkook smiled, pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss. "You're the best, ma. I love you so fucking much." He whispered, giving her earlobe a gentle kiss before pulling away. "I'll be down in a few.”

“Take your time baby. Really.” She pecked his cheek, hesitant to leave him while she walked down to the kitchen.

Jungkook grabbed her hand before she could walk away, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss.

"Thank you again baby— Seriously." He gave her a reassuring smile, squeezing her hand gently.

She left him and headed back downstairs, prepping dinner for him.

“I’ll miss you!” She called out from the kitchen, blushing and giggling in excitement.

She couldn’t believe he was really out of prison.

For years she spent everyday fantasizing and day dreaming about him finally living at home again. For him to actually be here was ground breaking.

She had devoted herself to that man the entire time he’d been away. Her friends would try to encourage her to see other men to fill in the gaps of his absence but she absolutely refused.

She had many opportunities. She was a beautiful woman.

But no other man could ever compare to Jungkook.

She started preparing a quick yet savory meal for them to eat while he was showering.

She had prepped wonton soup for the actual night of his arrival but she had enough ingredients to make it for him tonight.

Jungkook was upstairs. He stripped down to his white tank, revealing his well-built, tattooed body.

He smirked at himself in the mirror, satisfied with how much he had grown during his time.

He turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature to his liking before stepping in.

After scrubbing and shaving after what felt like forever, Jungkook hummed to himself as he stepped out the shower, feeling refreshed and anew.

He dried himself up before wrapping the towel around his waist, he stepped into the kitchen where his girl was. “Smells amazing baby, what is it?" He kissed her cheek, leaning on the counter.

“I made a homemade wonton soup with a side of rice.” She smiled, “You look clean. Someone’s already comfy back home.”

Jungkook chuckled, “With everything you’ve done, you made it easy.” He grinned as his stomach growled, looking down at himself.

“Go put some clothes on and dry your hair. You’re gonna get sick. I laid out clothes on the bed.” She instructed. “Use my hairdryer in the bathroom. Should be hung up in the bathroom.”

She took care of him and she tried his best to always pamper him. "Yes ma'am." He smiled, standing up and giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. "I'll be right back, baby."

Jungkook went back to the bathroom and dried his hair then put on the clothes she laid out for him.

He took a look at himself in the mirror and smiled. He had been evaluating their home since he arrived, she had really good taste.

He walked back into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her neck and inhaling her scent once more.


Couldn’t get enough.

“So much better huh baby?” She hummed, lost in his embrace.

“Definitely, baby. You always make me better." Jungkook whispered in her ear before giving her a soft and lingering kiss.

He reached for the food she was cooking, but she stopped him. “No. I’ll serve you. Go sit down.”

“Body” He obliged, not able to help it but steal another kiss before sitting down to eat with her. "This smells amazing, love."

She served him his soup along with a cup of jasmine hot tea.

She placed his bowl and cup on his side of the table. She served herself after him, sitting across from him. “Let me know if you like it. Too hot, too cold, too spicy, too salty. Anything like that.”

Jungkook blew on his soup before taking a spoon full, burning his tongue a little bit but he didn't care.

He was just desperate for a home cooked meal.

"This is so fucking good, Y/n… like really fucking good." He glanced up at her, giving her a little smirk before taking another bite.

“I’m not just saying that either.” He munched, lost in the taste of his food.

She laughed, “Glad you’ like it.” She enjoyed her soup across from him.

Jungkook finished his soup, but didn't finish his whole bowl of rice.

He sat back and took a sip of his tea. "So how was your day today? Besides making me the best fucking soup I've ever had?"

“I just spent today prepping for you to get here. Cleaned all day.” She exhaled.

“Was the rice not cooked right? You didn’t finish.” She looked at him, concerned a bit at his action.

Jungkook shook his head. "The rice is fine, love. It's just not my favorite thing to eat."

He took another sip of his tea and reached under the table, squeezing her knee. "It’s all I ever ate when I was in there— not really my favorite at the moment."

“Oh my gosh!” Her eyes widened, “I wasn’t even thinking!”

“Baby you make rice with every meal. It’s like muscle memory for you.” He chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. You’re too cute to worry.”

“It’s my man’s first night home from prison. Of course your opinion matters to me.” She sighed.

Jungkook smiled at her and looked down at his empty bowl. He reached for her hand and glanced back up at her. "You don't have to care about anything when it comes to me. I’m amazed by everything you do.”

“Mm so sweet.” She blushed, “Go relax.” She seized their bowls, washing them in the sink.

Jungkook laughed, "I just want to make sure you're happy too. Wouldn’t want my baby like that in her own house" He stood, slowly making his way around the kitchen island.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and moved his lips to her neck, giving her a soft kiss. "Smell so good baby. Can’t get away from you.”

She blushed at the close proximity, continuing the dishes.

Jungkook pulled away from her neck, his eyes glancing over her face. He enjoyed seeing her blush more than he thought he did.

"What's going on in your head? You can tell me you know." He leaned against the counter, watching her intently.

“Nothing.” She shrugged. “I’m just happy you’re here. More than happy I’m just— thankful.”

She started getting emotional, blinking back tears. “I just thought— I thought you’d have to stay longer.”

Jungkook walked towards her, his finger pushed her chin up, making her look at him.

"Don't cry on me now, damn baby. Making me feel guilty.” He wipes away a tear that fell down her cheek with his thumb. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close.

“Sorry sorry” She apologized, fanning herself.

Jungkook smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead, moving her to clear her teary eyes. "Don't apologize for showing your emotions to me. I love how much you care for me."

“You smell so good too.” She hummed against him. “Better than that nasty fresh out of prison smell.” She laughed.

Jungkook grins, sniffing himself to remind her of the smell she meant, his arms squeezing around her. "If you thought it smelled bad..."

He kisses her cheek, “Imagine when I wasn't this clean for four years.” He teased, laughing.

“Ewww.” She giggled, “I’m okay not thinking about that.”

Jungkook chuckles, pulling back to look at her, cupping her cheek and wiping away loose tears with his thumb. "You're so cute."

He was laughing again. "Y/n, I missed you... I really fucking missed you. I don’t care how many times I told you tonight.”

“I missed you too Jungkook— Writing and calling you definitely isn’t as good as having you here at home with me.” She admitted.

Jungkook smiles, his eyes bright with happiness. "Yeah, I know... I fucking hated the phone. But-" He takes her hand in his.

"Being here now, being able to show up in the morning and see you again and again will make up for it all." He flashes her a wide grin.

“Four years was such a long time.” She groaned, walking out from the kitchen and walking up to their bedroom.

Jungkook nods and follows her, watching her hips sway as his thoughts drift to more primal thoughts.

He felt bad for wanting to get straight to it. But she had been teasing him in those

"It was. But hey-" He says from behind her. He wraps arms around her mid-section. "I'm here now. Should we get to it? Break our bed in together?"

“Oh my gosh you’re so annoying” She smacks his arm, “Go put on a movie while I change. You’re gonna be scrolling for a minute. I’ll be back.”

Jungkook laughs and lets go, jumping onto the bed. He grabbed the remote off the nightstand, surfing through the different streaming services.

He hadn’t seen anything like this in quite some time, but he already knew what he was looking for. She was definitely wrong about him scrolling for a minute.

She changed into a pajama set, being sure to show off a bit by leaving some buttons undone.

She knew what was gonna go down tonight, she just wanted him to wait for it.

She made her way back to the bed, resting her body beside him closely. “What’re we watching?”

“Starting tonight we’re gonna watch every Marvel movie made since I got locked up.”

“Are you serious?” She groaned. “That’s an insane amount of movies.”

“But,” He pouted cutely. “Your baby has been locked up for sooo long.”

“I hate you.”

He wraps arms around her mid-section, resting his head on her waist. "You know you love me, ma... and I sure as fuck love you."

“I love you more” She laughed and pecked his lips, playing with his hair as they watched the first movie together.

Jungkook hums in contentment, closing his eyes and letting her play with his hair.

Throughout the movie, Jungkook couldn’t help but grow more and more desperate.

He was on edge for the past few months. In prison they called and wrote letters but recently her letters had been more

Seductive.

Letters that consisted wordy details of her burning desire and unstoppable urge to have him.

“One more? Please? Last time really.” He pleaded.

“Fine.” She pecked his lips.

A few minutes later.

“Please?”

“Okay.” She pecked his lips.

More minutes go by.

“One more? Last time really.”

“Ugh fine.” She groaned, pecking his lips once more.

“Fuck I can’t take it." He groans as she pecks his lips, unable to help but leaning in and making out with her as their movie plays in the background.

“Don’t know how you expected this to go when you look like this.” He mumbled against her lips, mouth getting messier. “Wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Need to make love to you since you got locked up” Her kisses grew more demanding.

Jungkook flips them over, pinning her down onto the bed and kissing her harder in return. "I needed you to fuckin' kiss me that hard when I was locked up.”

His hips buck up against hers, grinding his hardened cock against her thighs. “Dreamt about this every fuckin’ night.”

“I know baby fuck— me too” She grunted.

Jungkook reaches over to unbutton her pajama pants, before sliding them down her legs slowly— trailing kisses down her thighs as he does. "Take 'em off, baby. I wanna see how fuckin' wet you are for me already."

“Wanted dick since you got locked up— Been wet since you got released.” She couldn’t help the bashful expression all over her.

Yeah?" Jungkook grins, slipping his fingers underneath her panties and teasingly spreading her lower lips, his fingers slipping and teasing over her clit. "And how wet are you actually baby?"

“Fuck” She could cum at the contact alone. “S-So wet.”

Jungkook snickers, slipping a finger deep inside of her and pumping it in and out slowly, moaning at the tight and hot feeling around his fingers. "Fuckin' wet and tight girl hm? Huh baby?"

“F-Feels good daddy” The sensual nickname slipped from her lips, making his ears ring at the sweet sensation of her voice.

Jungkook groans at that nickname, thrusting his finger in and out of her faster now. "Shiiit, baby, you know I love it when you call me that."

He then pulls his fingers out, sucking them clean. “Love the way you taste. Needed that for years.”

“C-Can’t take it” She whimpered at the feeling of his retracting fingers.

Maybe it had been too long for her. By herself it took a good amount of work for her to get off but this was ruining her in seconds.

Jungkook smirks at that, pulling his pants down, his already hard length flopping out. "You’re gonna take it good baby?”

“Daddy please—“

“Is that all you got?" Jungkook taunts, teasing her entrance with his tip. "Beg some more, or you ain't getting this dick."

His dominant and demanding voice was coming back into play, almost better than what she remembered.

“Want it so bad. I’ll take it good, I promise.” Her voice cried, “So desperate.”

Jungkook groans at her begging, slowly pushing inside her. "Mmm fuck— so damn tight, just like that baby.”

“Take Daddy's dick." Him fully entering into her in a slow, but deep pace.

Her chest rose as he slid inside her. She swallowed, adjusting herself to his length.

Jungkook smirks at her reaction, gripping her hips as he begins to thrust in faster, a low moan leaving his lips.

“Missed this wet ass pussy” He stared her down. “You miss that, baby? How Daddy fucks you like this?"

“Y-Yes”

“Fat ol’ ass and huge ass tits— And a pretty face. God, you're so fucking hot." Jungkook grunts, picking up the pace, thrusting harder and faster.

The sound of skin on skin filling the room, making sure to hit that sweet spot. "This what you wanted, huh baby?

“All I-I wanted— all I needed.” She whined out. “Fucking amazing.”

“I thought I was desperate." Jungkook growls, slapping her ass hard. “Such a pretty girl. Didn’t try to play me once.”

The room is filled with even louder wet slaps of his hips against her ass and his smacks. His thrusts becoming more erratic, his cock growing desperate for release.

“All for you, all yours. Been with no one but you.” She moaned, truthfully speaking.

"Good girl." Jungkook leans forward, nipping at her neck before whispering in her ear.

"Say my name, Y/n. Who's dick are you on?" He grips her throat.

“Fuck! Yours Daddy! Yours!” She was a mess on his cock, eyes rolling back.

“That’s my girl. All fucking mine.” He was watching as her body shudders from his touch.

He admired the way she was breaking down in front of him, going dumb on his dick.

The way her body twitched, he knew she was growing closer.

He watched her, clearly enjoying her lack of breath. The way she squirms, his to control and use.

"Gonna cum on daddy’s dick baby? Gonna let go for me?" He's almost there, wanting to finish strong.

“Want your cum— Need it.” She whimpered, eyes growing teary from the overwhelming pleasure. “Please daddy.”

“So fucking hard to say no to you." Jungkook snorts, pounding into her mercilessly. He was seeking his needed high so he could cum right with her.

The couple both reached their orgasms, moaning each other’s names before giving in and cumming together.

“Fuck— so in love with you.” Jungkook grunts, emptily filling her up. He catches his breath, panting with her.

She could hardly get out of the bed because of him, she was limp.

She was shuttering from her orgasm. Her legs were a trembling mess.

He watches her collect herself, loving the sight of her. The way she looks so used and satisfied, only at his hands.

Once she was all together, she got back in bed with him, kissing and chucking with him as the two panted together.

“I still got it.”

“Goddamnit Jungkook.” She hid her face. “Yes- you do.”

[joelmillerisapunk]

Tastes like strawberries

Dbf!Joel miller x f!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 6,367 (ma bad)

Summary: after accidentally sending your dads best friend a provocative photo meant for someone else you go to "apologize" in person.

Warnings: 18+, age gap (make it your own), handcuffs, scissors, power imbalance, alcohol consumption, f&m oral receiving, joel wrecks your clothes, unprotected p in v, reader has hair and wears a dress, just two consenting adults

Notes: this wasn't meant to be so long. But here we are. Thank you for reading hope you like it <3 Thank you @syd-djarin @joelslegalwhre and @mountainsandmayhem for beta'ing sending you all smooches! and @saradika-graphics for the divider <3 <3 <3

The soft glow of your phone screen illuminates your face in the dimly lit room. Your heart races with a mix of excitement and nerves as you craft the perfect message to the guy you've been chatting with on Tinder. His name is Joel, and he seems different from the others—charming, mature, and undeniably intriguing.

With a deep breath, you attach the sexy photo you'd taken earlier, one that you hope he'll find irresistible. You type out a flirty caption, double-check the name at the top of the chat, and hit send before you can second-guess yourself.

The next morning, you wake up to a message notification. Your heart leaps, thinking it's Tinder Joel, but as you reach for your phone, a sense of dread washes over you. The message is from your father's best friend, Joel Miller, a man you've known since childhood and who has seen you grow up. The preview of the message from last night is enough to make your blood run cold.

11:58PM: I think you might have sent this to the wrong person, sweetheart.

Panic sets in as you read the full message and your face flames with embarrassment. You type out a flurry of apologies, each one more frantic than the last. Joel's response is swift and unexpected.

8:05AM: It's all good, baby girl. You don't need those Tinder boys when I'm right here for ya.

The message is accompanied by a winking emoji, and despite your mortification, you can't help but feel a thrill at the familiarity and warmth in his words. 

—

Determined to apologize in person and clear the air, you find yourself outside the sleek glass building that houses Joel's wine company Vita Vino: where every sip is a celebration of life. You certainly don't feel very celebratory at this moment as the receptionist leads you up to the top floor, where Joel's office overlooks the city with floor-to-ceiling windows.

You step into the office, where you see the cityscape sprawling behind Joel. He rises from his desk, a smile playing on his lips, his presence commanding the room. "Come in, sweetheart, was hopin’ to see ya," he says and winks.

You manage to find your voice, despite the fluttering in your chest. "Mr. Miller, I can't tell you how sorry I am. I was mortified when I realized - I don't know what I was thinking, it was meant for someone—"

He cuts you off with a gentle raise of his hand to still your frantic words. "Please call me Joel, you know better than callin me that. It's okay darlin. Really. These things happen."

You look up at him, searching his face for any sign of judgement, but find only a calm, reassuring smile. "I just—I never meant for you to see that. I feel so stupid.”

Joel's smile broadens, and he takes a step closer. "You have nothing to feel stupid about. You're a beautiful, confident woman. Ain't no shame in that. Listen, what you sent—it was for my eyes only from the moment it reached my phone. I want you to know that you can trust me. I would never disrespect you by sharing that with anyone.”

His words resonate with you, and you feel the weight of your embarrassment start to lift. "I appreciate that, Joel. I really do."

He takes a step toward you, closing the distance between you two. His hand lifts, and you feel the warmth of his fingers as they gently tilt your chin up, forcing your gaze to meet his. "You've got nothing to thank me for darlin. I'm just being honest with you."

The intensity of his stare sends a jolt of electricity through you. He's close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating off his body, and the scent of his cologne fills your senses, making your head spin. But before you can respond, he releases your chin and moves to the side, gesturing toward a large, framed map of the world's wine regions that hangs on the wall. As you both turn to look at it, your bodies are almost touching, and you can feel the subtle brush of his arm against yours.

"I want to show you something," he says, pointing to a very tiny out of the way region highlighted in gold. "It's where we get the grapes for our signature blend. You know, just like those grapes, sometimes the best things in life are unexpected surprises." 

As he explains the intricacies of the wine-making process, his hand drifts to the small of your back, a possessive gesture that sends a shiver down your spine. His touch is light, but the message is clear—he's staking a claim. 

As Joel's hand lingers on the small of your back, his thumb traces small, intimate circles that make it hard to focus on his words about wine. The room seems to shrink, the city outside the windows fading into insignificance as your awareness narrows to the man beside you.

 You swallow hard, your breath hitching as Joel's thumb continues its maddeningly delightful exploration. The heat from his hand seems to seep through the fabric of your clothes, branding your skin with his touch. "Joel," you whisper, your voice barely above a murmur. His name feels foreign and familiar on your lips.

He turns to look at you. "Yes, darlin'?" he replies, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself against the intoxicating effect he has on you. "I -I should go," you say, though the words feel hollow even as they leave your mouth. The last thing you want is to leave this room and the spell Joel has cast over you.

A slow smile spreads across his face, and he shakes his head slightly. "Do you really want to leave?" he asks, his hand pressing ever so slightly into your back, urging you closer.

The question hangs in the air between you, charged with anticipation and the promise of something deliciously forbidden. You know that saying yes will irrevocably change things between you and Joel Miller—the man who is friends with your father—but in this moment, none of that seems to matter. 

The air between you crackles with tension, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. You're acutely aware of the way your heart is pounding in your chest, the way your breath has become shallow and rapid. Joel's eyes are locked onto yours, a silent challenge that dares you to take a leap into the unknown.

"No," you admit, the word tasting like a confession. "I don't want to leave."

The smile that lights up Joel's face is predatory, triumphant. "Good girl," he murmurs, the approval in his voice sends a thrill through you. He steps back, giving you both a moment to breathe, to let the gravity of your decision settle in the space between you. "I've got something special I've been saving for an occasion like this," Joel says. He moves toward a polished wooden cabinet on the far side of the room. The cabinet is locked, but he produces a key from his pocket with a flourish that makes you smile despite the tension coiling in your belly.

Inside the cabinet is an array of exquisite bottles, each one surely holding a story as rich and complex as its contents. Joel's hand lingers over them before finally selecting one with a label that looks older than you are. "This," he says, holding it up to the light so you can see the liquid within, "is a 1947 Cheval Blanc. One of the finest vintages ever produced."

Your eyes widen at the sight of it. "Joel, I can't... that must be worth a fortune," you protest weakly, even as part of you yearns to experience such rare luxury.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he retrieves two crystal glasses from the cabinet. "Money isn't everything, darlin'." His gaze meets yours again, filled with an intensity that takes your breath away. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather share this with than you."

You watch in silence as he expertly uncorks the bottle and pours a small amount into each glass, the wine swirling like liquid rubies. He hands one to you and then raises his own in a toast. "To unexpected surprises," he says with a knowing smile.

The wine is velvet on your tongue, rich and complex with layers of flavor that seem to unfold endlessly as you sip it. You close your eyes for a moment, savoring the experience—and when you open them again Joel is watching you with an intensity that makes your knees weak. The atmosphere in the room has shifted, becoming charged with a desire that's as intoxicating as the wine you're sharing.

"You look so beautiful when you enjoy something.” 

As the last drops of the exquisite wine coat your throat, you lower your glass, your senses heightened by the rich flavors and the man standing before you. Joel's gaze is fixed on you, his eyes dark with desire that mirrors the pulsing need growing within you. He takes a step closer, the heat of his body enveloping you as he reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

"I want to show you more than just wine," he says, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "There's a whole world of pleasures I can introduce you to.”

“Joel, I dont know what to say.” 

“Nothin’, you dont have to say anything pretty girl.” 

As the last drops of the Cheval Blanc dance on your tongue, Joel takes a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. He reaches out to take your glass, setting it aside on a nearby table. His fingers graze yours in the process, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. You're acutely aware of the warmth of his body, the way his shirt stretches across his broad chest, the subtle hint of stubble along his jawline.

Joel turns back to the wine cabinet to return the precious bottle to its place of honor. As he opens the cabinet door, there's a soft clinking sound, and something metallic tumbles out from one of the shelves, landing with a thud on the plush carpet at your feet.

You both glance down simultaneously. There, gleaming under the soft glow of the office lights, is a pair of handcuffs. They're not just any handcuffs—they're high-quality, with a polished finish that suggests they've been well cared for. Your eyes widen in surprise, and you can feel a heat creeping up your cheeks as you look back at Joel.

"Well, that's not something I expected to show you today," he says with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck in a rare display of awkwardness.

You stare at the handcuffs and then back at Joel, your heart pounding in your chest. "Are those...?" You trail off, unable to finish the sentence.

Joel chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he nods. "Yes, they are.”

You're not sure what to think, you can only imagine how many women he's used those on, right here in his office. The thought sends a thrill through you, a mix of jealousy and excitement at the idea of being one of those women, of sharing in this secret, kinky side of Joel that he's kept hidden from the world. "I didn't peg you for the type," you say.

Joel's eyes lock onto yours, the playful glint in them replaced by a serious intensity. "There's a lot you don't know about me, darlin'," he admits. "And there's a lot I'd like to show you, if you're willing.”

You know that picking up those handcuffs would be crossing a line, stepping into a world of pleasure and exploration that you've never experienced before. But the thought of surrendering control to Joel, of letting him guide you through uncharted territory, is exhilarating.

Slowly, you reach down and pick up the handcuffs, the cold metal warming in your grasp. You hold them out to Joel, your heart racing as you give him a silent nod of consent. A slow, approving smile spreads across his face as he takes the handcuffs from you. 

His fingers brush against your wrists, sending sparks of electricity through your veins. You hear the soft click of the handcuffs as they close around your wrists. The sensation of being bound, of being at Joel's mercy, is both thrilling and terrifying.

"There," he says, his breath hot against your ear as he steps in front of you, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Now you're mine."

The words send a jolt of desire through you, pooling low in your belly. You're aware of the way your body responds to his words, to the dominance radiating off him in waves. "What are you going to do with me?" you ask.

Joel's smile is wicked as he reaches out to trace the line of your jaw with his finger. "Whatever I want," he says, the promise in his voice making your knees weak. "But don't worry, darlin'. I'm going to make sure you enjoy every single second of it.”

He guides you toward the large, mahogany desk that dominates his office. The surface is clear, save for a sleek laptop and a few neatly stacked papers. With a gentle hand on your shoulder, he urges you to sit on the edge of the desk, the cool wood against your skin a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his touch.

Joel steps back, his gaze raking over you as he begins to undress and it's as if time slows down, allowing you to take in every inch of his mature, ruggedly handsome form. Joel's suit is tailored to perfection, emphasizing his broad shoulders and muscular arms. Each movement he makes stretches the fabric across his toned body. With practiced ease, he removes it and then unbuttons his crisp, white dress shirt. His chest is a canvas of sun-kissed skin pulled taut over defined pectoral muscles. A smattering of gray hair dusts his chest, trailing down his toned abdomen and disappearing into the waistband of his trousers. Joel's hands move to his belt, and with a flick of his wrist, he unbuckles it, the metallic clink echoing in the quiet room. He slides the leather out of the loops with a slow, deliberate motion. His trousers follow, pooling at his feet to reveal a pair of black boxer briefs that hug his powerful thighs and leave little to the imagination.

His arousal is evident, straining against the soft fabric, and you can't help but feel a thrill at the sight. As he pushes his boxer briefs down, his cock springs free, thick and heavy with desire. His cock is a thing of beauty, perfectly proportioned to his large frame, with a defined shaft and a bulbous head that glistens with a drop of arousal. It's clear that Joel is a man confident in his sexuality and the effect he has on you.

"Eyes up here, darlin'," he teases, but the heat in his gaze tells you he enjoys your appraisal. Joel's eyes twinkle with mischief as he reaches into the top drawer of his desk, the sound of metal against wood sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. He produces a pair of scissors. The sight of them in his large, capable hands is intimidating. "These," he says, holding up the scissors for you to see, "are going to help me unwrap my present." His voice is filled with a promise that sends a thrill straight to your core.

You swallow hard, your breath hitching as he steps toward you. "Joel, wait—" you start to protest, but the words die on your lips as he places a finger gently against them.

"Shh... trust me," he murmurs, and there's something in his eyes that makes it impossible for you to do anything but nod in silent acquiescence. With a tenderness that belies his strength, Joel takes hold of one of the straps of your dress. The cold steel of the scissors brushes against your skin as he carefully slides the blades beneath the fabric. You feel a momentary resistance and then—snip—the strap gives way, falling limply to your side as Joel cuts through it with practiced ease. The front of your dress sags slightly, revealing more of your cleavage than intended. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as Joel's gaze darkens with desire. "You are exquisite," he says reverently, his fingers tracing the newly exposed skin along the neckline of your dress.

Before you can respond, he's moving again, this time cutting away the other strip of fabric that hold up the rest of your dress. The material falls away from your body like petals from a blooming flower, pooling at your waist and leaving you feeling deliciously exposed under his hungry gaze. 

"Joel!" you gasp, both startled and exhilarated by his boldness. "My dress—" 

He silences you with a kiss—a deep, searing kiss that leaves no room for doubt about how much he wants you right now. "Don't worry about it," he says when he finally pulls away, “I'll buy you ten more just like it.”

With your heart pounding in your chest, you watch as Joel's attention shifts to your bra. The scissors glint in the soft light of his office, and you can't help but hold your breath as he positions the blades against the delicate fabric of your bra strap.

"I've been wanting to see these since the moment ya walked in baby," he confesses, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. With a swift, precise movement, he snips through the strap on one side, then the other. The bra loosens around you, but it's still held in place by the underwire and your modesty is preserved—for now.

Joel sets the scissors aside and hooks his fingers under the remaining fabric of your dress and bra. He tugs gently, peeling away the layers of clothing that separate you from his touch. You lift your hips to assist him, and with a final tug, he frees you from both garments. You're sitting before him now in nothing but your underwear, feeling more vulnerable and exposed than ever before.

Joel's eyes roam over every inch of exposed skin with an intensity that makes it clear just how much he appreciates what he sees laid out before him on his desk like some kind of erotic feast prepared just for him. "You are absolutely breathtaking," he murmurs appreciatively as his hands follow where his eyes have just been caressing every curve along its way. Joel's hands continue their exploration, his fingers skimming over the soft fabric of your underwear. You can feel the heat of his touch through the thin material, and you can't help but arch into his touch, seeking more.

"Eager, aren't we?" he teases, his fingers tracing the edge of your underwear before dipping beneath the fabric. His fingertips graze your sensitive flesh, and a gasp escapes your lips as pleasure courses through you. "I like that," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

Your body responds to his touch with an eagerness that surprises you. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. "Lift up for me, darlin'," he instructs. You do as he says, lifting your hips so he can slide the underwear down your legs. Once they're off, he tosses them aside carelessly, as if they're nothing more than a bothersome impediment to what he truly wants—you. Now you're completely exposed to him, sitting on the edge of his desk with your hands cuffed and your legs spread slightly. You feel vulnerable like this, but there's also a sense of empowerment in knowing that you've driven him to such lengths of desire.

Joel steps back to appreciate the view, his eyes darkening with lust as they roam over your naked body. "You are a masterpiece," he says reverently, his gaze lingering on the apex of your thighs before traveling up to meet your eyes. "And I am going to worship every inch of you."

Before you can respond, he drops to his knees in front of you, his hands gripping your thighs as he buries his face between your legs. His tongue swipes across your sensitive flesh, and a moan escapes your lips as pleasure shoots through you.  Joel's tongue delves deeper, lapping at your folds and teasing your clit with gentle flicks. You gasp, arching into his touch as he explores you with a skill that leaves you panting for more. His hands squeeze your thighs, holding you in place as he devours you. You feel the world around you melt away as his attention focuses solely on bringing you pleasure.

As he works his magic between your legs, Joel's other hand travels up to cup one of your breasts, tweaking a nipple gently before rolling it between his fingers. The sensation sends shockwaves of desire coursing through you, heightening the pleasure he's already coaxing from below. Your hips buck against him in response to the exquisite torment and ecstasy that overwhelms you.

You can feel yourself growing wetter by the moment under his ministrations, and when Joel finally takes your clit into his mouth with a soft suckling sound that echoes in the quiet room, it's almost too much to bear. He sucks gently at first before increasing the pressure until your whole body tenses and shudders with release.  As the waves of pleasure crash over you, Joel's mouth never leaves your sensitive flesh. He laps at you with long, languid strokes, drawing out your orgasm until you're left trembling and gasping for air. Your body is still pulsing with the aftershocks when he finally pulls back, his lips glistening with your arousal.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust. "You taste as sweet as I imagined," he growls, his voice rough with desire. He brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan of satisfaction. The sight of him tasting you is incredibly erotic, and you feel a fresh surge of arousal at the thought of him enjoying your pleasure so thoroughly. "Come on now, be a good girl and follow me,”  he says, rising to his feet. He reaches for the chain between the handcuffs, using it to guide you off the desk and toward the plush leather couch that sits against the far wall of his office. 

You stumble slightly, still dizzy from your orgasm, but Joel's strong arm wraps around your waist, holding you steady. He positions you on the couch, your back against the soft leather and your hands still cuffed, placing them above your head. He kneels beside you, his body looming over yours as he captures your lips in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you dizzy. "Spread those pretty legs for me, darlin'," he murmurs against your lips, and you comply without hesitation, eager for whatever he has planned next. He reaches down to stroke your inner thighs. "You're so wet for me, so ready," he says, his voice filled with approval.

He positions himself between your legs, the tip of his cock nudging against your slick entrance. You look up at him, your eyes meeting his in a silent plea for more. He responds with a slow, deliberate thrust that fills you completely. The sensation of him inside you is overwhelming, and you can't help but cry out in pleasure.

"That's it, such a goodgirl, aren’tcha?" he groans, beginning to move inside you with a rhythm that quickly has you panting and writhing beneath him. "I know baby, s'big but you can take it darlin. C’mon take me inside that pretty pussy.”

His thrusts grow more urgent, more demanding, and you meet each one with a desperation that matches his own. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, punctuated by your cries of pleasure and his low, guttural moans.

Joel's hand snakes between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation is almost too much to bear, and you feel another orgasm building within you, stronger and more intense than the first. "Come for me, darlin'," he commands. "Wanna feel you make a sweet mess on my cock."

His words push you over the edge, and you explode around him, your body convulsing with the force of your release. He continues to thrust through your orgasm, drawing it out until you're left limp and boneless beneath him. 

Just as the waves of your orgasm subsides, Joel slowly withdraws from you, leaving you feeling empty and exposed. He stands before you, his cock glistening with your arousal, and there's a predatory glint in his eyes that sends a thrill of anticipation through you.

"On your knees, darlin'," he commands, his voice a low growl that brooks no argument. You scramble to obey, the handcuffs clinking together as you shift your position on the couch. He steps closer, his cock at eye level, and you can't help but lick your lips in anticipation.

Joel's cock is a sight to behold—a testament to his virility and raw masculinity. It's thick and long, with a prominent vein running along the underside that pulses. The shaft is smooth and warm to the touch, the skin soft yet taut over the steel-hard erection beneath. His girth is substantial. The head of his cock is a deep shade of pink, almost purple with engorgement, and it glistens with a bead of precum that entices you like the sweet promise of a popsicle on a sweltering summer day. You can't help but lean forward, extending your tongue to taste him. The salty-sweet flavor of his essence dances on your taste buds as you lap at him, eliciting a deep groan of pleasure from Joel that vibrates through his body and into yours.

"Open wide," he instructs, his hand fisting his shaft as he guides himself toward your waiting mouth. You part your lips obediently, and he slides inside, filling your mouth with his impressive girth. He tastes musky and salty, a heady combination that makes your head spin.

"That's it, baby girl," he groans, his fingers threading through your hair as he begins to thrust gently into your mouth. "Take it nice and deep."

You relax your throat, trying to accommodate his size as he sets a steady rhythm, fucking your mouth with slow, deliberate thrusts. You can feel the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, and you fight the urge to gag, wanting to please him, to show him that you can handle everything he gives you.

"Such a good girl," he praises, his words spurring you on. "You look so fucking beautiful with my cock in your mouth."

His praise washes over you, filling you with a sense of pride and arousal. You moan around him, the vibrations making him hiss with pleasure. His grip on your hair tightens, and he pulls you closer, pushing deeper into your throat.

"Fuck, yes," he groans, his hips jerking as he hits the perfect spot. "Just like that. Don't stop."

You can feel the tension building in his body, the way his thighs tremble slightly with each thrust. You know he's close, and the knowledge that you're the one bringing him to the edge fills you with a sense of power.

Suddenly, he pulls out, his cock leaving your mouth with a wet pop. "Not yet," he says, his voice strained. "Wanna come inside ya baby, make a mess in that tasty cunt."

He helps you to your feet and guides you back to the desk, bending you over it so that your ass is in the air and gives you a light smack to one cheek. He reaches between your legs, his fingers easily sliding into your soaked pussy. "Goddamn baby, you're still so wet," he marvels, his fingers pumping in and out of you with a rhythm that quickly has you panting for more.

Without warning, he pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his cock, slamming into you with a force that makes you cry out in surprise and pleasure. He sets a brutal pace, his hips slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust.

"You feel that, darlin'?" he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "That's me claiming what's mine."

His words send a jolt of desire through you, and you push back against him, meeting each thrust with one of your own. You can feel another orgasm building, the pressure coiling low in your belly.

"Come for me one more time," he commands, his hand reaching around to strum your clit with quick, expert strokes. "Wanna feel you milk my cock."

His words push you over the edge, and you come around him, your entire core pulsing around his girth and with a final, powerful thrust, Joel buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he finds his own release. You can feel him filling you up, the warmth of his seed spreading through you as he groans out his pleasure.

Spent, he collapses on top of you, his body heavy and sated. After a moment, he pulls out and helps you to stand, his hands gentle as he uncuffs you and massages your wrists.

"You are somethin’ else that's for sure babygirl," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

You smile up at him, "I'm glad I could make you feel good," you reply with a soft voice.

Joel chuckles and gives you a quick, playful swat on the ass. "Make me feel good? Baby girl, you blew my mind."

He reaches into a drawer and pulls out a sleek, black whip. "Next time," he says, holding it up for you to see, "we can play with this. But for now, I think we've both had enough excitement for one day."

You stand there for a moment, still reeling from the intensity of your encounter, and then you remember—your dress is in tatters on the floor. You gather the remnants of your clothing, holding them up in front of you like a shield. "What do I do about this?" you ask.

Joel looks at you with a mischievous grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "What size are you, darlin'?" he asks, reaching for his phone on the desk.

You tell him your size, still feeling a bit flustered as he dials a number and speaks into the receiver. "Hey, Lexi? Yeah, I need you to pick up a dress for our guest here.” He looks at you questioningly, and you repeat your size for his benefit. "Got it. And make it something nice—surprise me.” There's a brief pause as he listens to his assistant's response before hanging up the phone with a satisfied nod. "Lexi will take care of everything," he assures you with a wink that sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach once again despite yourself.

True to his word, less than twenty minutes later, there's a knock on the office door. Lexi, Joel's assistant, enters the room with a professional smile and several shopping bags from high-end boutiques. "Here you go, Mr. Miller," she says, setting them down next to where you're standing, like this is completely normal. "I hope these will suffice."

"Thank you, Lexi," Joel responds with a nod of appreciation. "I'm sure they'll be perfect." Lexi exits the room as quickly as she came in, leaving you once again alone with Joel. He gestures toward the bags with a playful smile. "Go on, darlin'. Pick your favorite."

You rummage through the bags and find an elegant black dress that looks like it would fit you perfectly. It's sophisticated yet sexy—just like the man who bought it for you. With a shy smile, you hold it up for Joel to see.

"Perfect choice," he says approvingly. "Why don't you try it on?"

You slip into the dress, feeling its soft fabric hug your curves in all the right places. When you turn around to show Joel, his eyes light up with appreciation. "You look stunning," he murmurs sincerely while walking over towards where you were standing before wrapping an arm around your waist then pulling you closer so he could whisper into your ear "But then again I knew you would." His words send shivers down your spine causing goosebumps to form all over your skin despite how warm it was inside his office at this moment.

 As Joel takes a moment to drink in the sight of you in the new dress, you can't help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. The way his eyes darken with desire, even after everything you've shared, is intoxicating. It's clear that his interest in you isn't just a fleeting attraction—it's something much deeper and more intense.

You smile at him, your heart fluttering in your chest. "Thank you, Joel," you reply softly. "For everything."

He chuckles and shakes his head slightly. "Don't thank me yet, darlin'. The day's still young. Now what do you say I get ya home safe."

With that tantalizing promise hanging in the air between you, Joel helps you into your coat—a thoughtful gesture that makes you feel cared for. He escorts you out of his office and down to the parking garage where his sleek black sports car is waiting. The ride back to your place is filled with easy conversation and shared laughter, the chemistry between you two undeniable and electric.

When he pulls up in front of your building, he turns off the engine and turns to face you. "I had a great time with you today," he says sincerely, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I hope this isn't the last time I get to see that beautiful smile of yours."

You look up at him through your lashes, feeling bold despite the vulnerability coursing through you. "I don't think that will be a problem," you say with a playful smirk. 

Joel grins back at, “that's my good girl.” 

As you step out of the car, the cool  air wraps around you. You turn to say goodbye, but he's already getting out of the driver's seat, coming around to your side of the car.

"Let me walk you to your door," he says, offering his arm with a gentlemanly charm that belies the fiery passion you've shared. You accept with a nod, and together, you walk toward the entrance of your building.

The silence between you is comfortable, filled with the unspoken knowledge of what transpired between you two. As you reach your door, you turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Thank you again, Joel, for today," you say softly, "for everything."

Joel smiles at you. "The pleasure was all mine," he replies with a wink and leans in close enough that his breath ghosts over your lips when he speaks again. "But I have a feeling we're just getting started."

With those words hanging in the air between you like a promise of more incredible days to come, Joel takes a step back and heads back toward his car parked by curbside leaving only echoes behind him.

As the door to your building clicks shut behind you, you lean against it. The memory of his touch, his kiss, his words—they all send shivers of delight coursing through your veins. You can't help but smile to yourself as you replay the events of the day in your mind, each moment more thrilling than the last.

You're startled out of your reverie by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. Fishing it out, you see a notification on the screen - a new message from Joel. Your heart skips a beat as you open it, curiosity and excitement mingling within you.

1:07PM: Can't wait to unwrap that pretty little package again." 

The words alone are enough to send a jolt of desire through you, but then you notice an attachment—a picture. With trembling hands, you open it and find exactly what you were hoping for - a photo of Joel's large burly hand wrapping around his even thicker, larger cock, hard and ready for you once more. You realize he must have taken that in his car.

Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the sight of Joel's arousal, so potent and vivid on your screen. The knowledge that he's thinking about you, that he's hard and ready again so soon after your encounter, sends a thrill of power through you. You type out a quick response, your fingers flying over the keys with a boldness that matches the newfound confidence he's awakened in you.

1:10PM I hope you're not driving and texting that picture. Keep your eyes on the road, Mr. Miller.  you tease, adding a winking emoji for good measure.

His response is almost immediate, a testament to his eagerness. 

1:10PM Don't worry, darlin'. I'm parked outside your building. Couldn't resist sending you a little something to dream about tonight.

You can't help but smile at his words, your body already aching for his touch once more. But before you can respond, another message comes through with an address.

1:11PM Tomorrow, 8 PM. My place. Wear something comfortable and easy to take off.

1:12PM Yes sir.

1:13PM Oh baby you're walking Into whole new territory calling me sir. I'm going to put that pretty mouth to good use tomorrow.

Just as you're about to put your phone down a last message comes through 

1:13PM And leave the underwear at home.

[pin-k-ink]

study session // akaashi keiji

tw ⇢ mutual pining, making out, soft sex, nipple play, fingering, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, getting caught(?), bokuto being bokuto

wc ⇢ 5.9k

The deadbolt thunked softly as Akaashi twisted his key, shoulders sagging with fatigue after another marathon day of editing. He toed off his loafers, inhaling the familiar blend of books and bergamot that enveloped the apartment he shared with his roommate - you, Bokuto's younger sister.

A muffled sniffle drifted from down the hall, immediately snapping Akaashi's focus into sharp awareness. Frowning slightly, he followed the sound toward your bedroom. The door was ajar, spilling a thin blade of light across the hardwood.

Akaashi hesitated with his knuckles hovering outside the door frame, another watery hiccup reaching his ears. Quietly, he rapped his knuckles against the wood.

"Y/N, are you alright?" he called out gently.

A tremulous inhale, then your voice filtered through, think and wavering. "A-Akaashi? Y-Yeah, I'm...I'm okay."

But the attempt at false bravery was betrayed by the slight quaver marring your tone. Akaashi's brow furrowed in sincere concern, fingers already grasping the door handle.

"May I come in?"

A pause, then a resigned sigh. "Okay..."

He pushed the door open slowly to find you hunched over your desk, shoulders trembling and face streaked with tears. Textbooks and notepads were strewn haphazardly, evidence of the chaotic state of your studies. Akaashi felt a pang in his chest at the rare sight of your usual sunny disposition so distraught and overwhelmed.

"Oh Y/N..." He crossed the room in three strides, circling around to crouch beside you. "What's wrong? Talk to me."

You swiped the sleeve of your sweatshirt uselessly across your damp cheeks, exhaling a ragged breath. "It's just...there's so much material to review for midterms and I'm f-falling behind. I've been studying nonstop but nothing is sticking and I'm so stressed out..."

The dam of frustration you'd been holding back finally burst as your voice hitched dangerously on those last words. Akaashi watched, utterly helpless, as you dissolved into fresh sobs muffled behind your palms.

For a moment, he wavered, unsure of the proper decorum to provide comfort without overstepping boundaries. But the sight of your dejected hunched form overwhelmed any hesitation. Tenderly, he reached out to pull you into his embrace, tucking your face into the reassuring warmth of his chest.

You immediately melted against him, tremors wracking your frame as the tears soaked through the soft cotton of his dress shirt. Akaashi just held you close, cheek pillowed atop your crown as he murmured soothing reassurances.

"It's okay, just breathe...you've got this..."

In that dimly-lit sanctuary of your bedroom, he allowed himself to admit the truth simmering beneath his concern - the soft cadence of your breath fanning across his collarbone, the pliant weight of you cradled against his chest...it all felt so intrinsically right. As if you belonged sheltered in his arms.

The realization should have startled Akaashi more than it did. Yet, somehow his heart had already accepted the quiet inevitability of the tenderness blooming between you two over years of being roommates.

Eventually, your hitched breathing began to even out, arms tentatively circling his waist as you reigned in your spiked emotions. When at last you pulled back, Akaashi was gutted by your reddened eyes and wan expression - outer signs of the immense strain you were enduring.

"God, I'm so sorry..." you mumbled, avoiding his gaze self-consciously. "You must think I'm an over-emotional wreck."

"Not at all," he replied, cupping your cheek with one palm to tilt your face back toward him. "You've been pushing yourself incredibly hard. It's only natural the stress would eventually need an outlet."

Akaashi held your wavering stare, silently willing you to grasp his understanding, his concern, the unacknowledged tenderness reflecting behind his carefully composed exterior. Finally, you managed a watery semblance of your usual vibrant smile - a flicker of your indomitable spirit that never failed to stir his heart.

"Thank you, Akaashi. I don't know what I'd do without your steadying presence when I'm a mess like this."

"Anytime," he murmured, the words carrying more weight than he perhaps intended. Clearing his throat, he sat back on his heels. "Now...why don't you take a short break, splash some water on your face? Then come find me in the living room. I'll help you go over whatever topics are tripping you up."

Your eyes widened fractionally at his offer of studying together, then crinkled with renewed determination and gratitude. "Really? You don't mind? God, that would be incredible..."

"Of course not. We'll tackle this together." Akaashi rose fluidly to his feet. "I'll put on a pot of tea for us."

As he retreated into the hallway, he couldn't deny the faint fluttering warmth that blossomed in his chest. Though he assisted you frequently with your coursework, there was an unusual anticipation thrumming beneath his skin now. Perhaps amplified by those tender, unfurling moments of connection in your bedroom.

He allowed himself a fleeting smile, letting the cozy atmosphere of your shared apartment enfold him as he busied himself preparing the tea tray. Yes, something had definitively shifted between you two tonight. And Akaashi found himself unexpectedly eager to embrace whatever this newintimacy ushered in.

The gentle rattling of ceramic cups and quiet brewing of the electric kettle provided a soothing soundtrack as Akaashi arranged the tea tray. He inhaled the grounding aroma of bergamot and lemon, mentally preparing himself to tackle your studies with the same care he devoted to his editorial work.

Just as he finished setting out the teacups, you padded into the living room - face scrubbed clean and radiant smile tentatively resurfacing. Akaashi felt his chest constrict at how achingly tender and vulnerable you appeared, swathed in an over-sized university hoodie. He had to resist the sudden impulse to pull you back into his arms.

"Hey, all set whenever you are," you murmured, rubbing the dampness from your cheeks. You settled cross-legged on the floor, back resting against the sofa as you gathered your notes and textbooks onto the coffee table.

Akaashi poured the fragrant tea, sliding one steaming cup towards you before joining on the floor opposite. You offered him a grateful look over the rim as you sipped carefully, face visibly relaxing as the warmth seeped into you.

"Okay," he prompted in that low, soft timbre of his. "Where should we start?"

You worried your bottom lip - an endearing quirk he'd noticed you did when concentrating hard. "Umm...organic chemistry has been really kicking my ass lately. If we could go over some of the molecular structure concepts?"

Nodding, Akaashi reached for your notebook, allowing your shoulders to brush in the process. A shiver rippled through you that had nothing to do with the temperature. He pretended not to notice, keeping his focus trained on the page as he scanned your scattered notations with a practiced editorial eye.

"I can see where you're getting tripped up on the hybridization models..." he mused, fingers unconsciously smoothing the rumpled pages with a delicate touch.

With that same deft cadence he used to break down complex manga narratives and storyboards, Akaashi began illuminating the organic chemistry topics that were giving you trouble. You quickly became absorbed in his low, authoritative explanations - leaning incrementally closer until your knees knocked together every time you shifted position.

Akaashi's mouth went dry whenever your raptured gaze lifted to his, those expressive eyes drinking in each new nuance he highlighted. He couldn't resist the temptation to reach out, large palms engulfing your smaller hands to guide them through the molecular diagram you were struggling with.

You seemed to shudder bodily at the contact, but didn't pull away. If anything, you gravitated infinitesimally nearer to his orbit until the earthy sandalwood scent of his cologne enveloped you completely.

For his part, Akaashi felt utterly transfixed dissecting the intricacies of organic chemistry with you. Long minutes blurred into hours, marked only by the occasional rasp of your pencil scratching out new understandings and quiet stretch of reaching for your rapidly cooling tea.

A heady sort of intimacy had descended over the hushed apartment - suspended in a gossamer pocket of time where only the two of you existed. Even when a shrill trill from your phone interrupted, shattering the weighted quiet, neither of you startled apart.

"Shit, it's Kou checking in..." you murmured vaguely, swiping to silence the incessant buzzing without sparing the screen a glance.

A tiny furrow appeared between Akaashi's brows, unable to fully mask the fleeting pang of disappointment. Of course Bokuto would want to catch up with his baby sister. He tamped down whatever misguided sentiments had begun flickering to life and refocused on the present lesson.

A new cadence emerged over the ensuing weeks - you and Akaashi settling into a ritual of late-night cram sessions in the living room after he returned from the office. What had begun as his kind offer of a studious assist gradually deepened into something richer, more intimate. Textbooks became the pretense, while conversations about Akaashi's editorial work for up-and-coming mangaka and your academic ambitions flowed more organically.

He savored those hushed interludes, coveting each fresh glimpse into your spirit and psyche that you shyly unveiled over mugs of bergamot tea and pages. You seemed to come alive at night, unfurling from your usual subdued daytime presence into an incandescent force as radiant as your legendary brother.

On nights when Bokuto himself burst into the apartment unannounced for a visit, his raucous presence felt strangely...diminishing. Like an intrusion upon the rarefied bubble of connection you and Akaashi had begun delicately cultivating, no matter how inadvertent.

"Hey hey hey!!!" The boisterous owl'd screech, sweeping his baby sister up in his signature crushing embrace much to her squealing protests. "There're my two favorite roomies!!"

For the span of those chaotic visits, you and Akaashi became spectators in your own apartment - observing from the periphery as Bokuto dominated the space with his overwhelming charm and delirious anecdotes. Invariably, you would share a look with Akaashi from across the room - shining with a sort of knowing affection and silent promise to reconvene your quieter interlude once the whirlwind subsided.

Bokuto remained blissfully oblivious to the undercurrent shifting between you, of course. But with each passing day, each fitful study session that bled into the wee hours, Akaashi felt himself falling deeper under the spell of your steady warmth and lighthearted presence.

The selfish part of him began hoarding those sacrosanct one-on-one moments, savoring the intimacy of being the one to share in your blossoming self-discoveries, your academic passions, all crowned by the coquettish smiles and sparkling glances you bestowed upon him alone.

He had become addicted to basking in the rosy glow of your affection on sleepy afternoons when you'd emerge from your bedroom after sleeping late, tousled hair haloing your face. Akaashi routinely lost his train of thought watching you shuffle around the apartment preparing tea and toast, rumpled and soft and utterly resplendent in his eyes.

It was during those tranquil respites between lessons that the reality of his deepening feelings became unavoidable, even to Akaashi's own practiced aloofness. You had worked your way under his skin, into his veins, until his every waking moment centered upon your orbit. With each night that blurred into dawning tenderness, he felt himself teetering perilously towards falling utterly, hopelessly in love.

The soft patter of rain against the windowpanes provided a soothing ambient soundtrack as you pored over your psychology textbook. Akaashi sat beside you on the couch, leg brushing yours as he leaned in to examine the passage you were struggling to grasp.

"So the key difference between the Psychoanalytic and Behaviorist models is..." His low, modulated timbre washed over you as he began breaking down the nuances.

You bit your lip, nodding along while trying to concentrate despite the incredible proximity of his body heat and intoxicating sandalwood cologne. Akaashi's attentive gaze flickered between you and the text, entirely focused on elucidating the intricate psychological concepts until comprehension finally sparked behind your eyes.

"Ohhh, I think I'm getting it now..." you murmured, scribbling a few shorthand notes in the margin. "The Psychoanalytic looks at the deeper underlying motivations like Freudian psyche stuff, whereas Behaviorist is all about external conditioning and reinforcement?"

Akaashi's lips curved into a pleased smile - warm approval crinkling the corners of his steel-grey eyes. "Exactly. You've got a keen understanding."

You basked in the subtle praise, preening slightly under his undivided attention. An unexpected crack of thunder punctuated the moment, making you jump. Akaashi steadied you with a light touch on your shoulder, fingers lingering perhaps a beat too long.

"Perhaps we should take a break?" he suggested, eyes crinkling fondly at your startled reaction. "My brain could use a reprieve from the academic intensity."

"Oh? Did you have something else in mind?" You arched a brow teasingly.

The longer you pursued your studies together during these late-night sessions, the more your dynamic had evolved beyond a simple student-mentor rapport. An undercurrent of flirtatious energy had begun simmering between you, acknowledged yet never overtly addressed.

Akaashi hummed, reaching over to snag the TV remote from the end table. "I happened to download a few of the films from that Ghibli retrospective you mentioned wanting to see..."

Your face lit up at the casual reminder of an offhand comment you'd made ages ago - pleasantly surprised that he had taken note.

"Seriously? God, you're the best study-buddy ever!" You immediately shifted onto the floor, cozying into the plush area rug as Akaashi cued up the first animated film.

He chuckled - a low rumbling rasp that did funny things to your equilibrium these days. "At the rate we're accruing all-nighters, calling me a 'study-buddy' is practically an insult to my scholarly dedication."

"Oh, I'm sorry - should I call you Keeeiii-jiiiii Sensei instead?" you quipped with a theatrical bat of your lashes.

His only response was an exaggerated roll of eyes as he settled in beside you, near enough for your shoulders to brush with each intake of breath. The movie flickered to life, casting the living room in bursts of jewel-toned light and shadow.

Though you tried valiantly to remain attentive and absorb the artistry of the acclaimed anime, you gradually became ensnared by heavy lidded drowsiness as the opening scenes played out. Something about the ambient patter of rain, the easy cadence of Akaashi's breathing beside you, it all lulled you into a deeply contented state far too cozy to resist.

At some point, you must have drifted off entirely because you startled back to awareness cradled in Akaashi's arms as he carried you down the hallway to your bedroom. You instinctively nuzzled against the solid plane of his chest, relishing the sandalwood cologne and clean linen scent enveloping you both.

Akaashi went very still for a suspended moment, the muscles in his arms tensing almost imperceptibly around you. His jaw worked briefly before he spoke in a hushed murmur pitched low enough not to disturb the night quiet.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to wake you," he rumbled, negotiating the last few steps into your bedroom with that same liquid grace he possessed. "You looked so peaceful, I wanted to get you somewhere more comfortable to sleep."

You peeled open one heavy-lidded eye, reflexively cataloging how the silvery moonlight gilded the elegant planes of his face, casting his stormy irises in softer grays. Even sleep-addled, you recognized the thrilling intimacy of being gathered against Akaashi's solidly muscular frame like a lover's embrace.

The staccato pounding of raindrops against the windows intensified into a deafening roar as the storm system raged outside. You shivered involuntarily, rubbing your hands along your arms despite being cocooned in one of Akaashi's worn university hoodies that smelled intoxicatingly of sandalwood and clove.

A massive crack of thunder boomed directly overhead, causing you to flinch violently. Unconsciously, you scooted infinitesimally closer to where Akaashi sat beside you on the floor - back against the couch as you pored over notes and textbooks strewn across the coffee table.

He paused, keen eyes flickering over to study your tense form briefly before returning his focus to the biochem flashcards you were meant to be reviewing. A few beats of weighted silence passed, punctuated only by the howling winds.

Then, with a blinding flash, every lamp and light fixture extinguished - plunging the apartment into absolute inky darkness.

You couldn't help the tiny whimper that scraped up your throat as you froze, pulse thundering wildly in your ears. From the void beside you came the rustle of movement, callused fingers tenderly circling your wrist.

"Hey...you're alright," Akaashi's deep timbre washed over you, resonant and reassuring even without being able to see his features. "Just a power outage from the storm. We have candles and battery lamps, don't worry."

You bobbed your head numbly, unconsciously leaning into the warmth and solidness of his presence beside you. Akaashi seemed to register the slight tremors rippling through you because he shifted nearer until your thighs were flush, cocooning you in his orbit.

"Give me a moment to find the emergency lights," he murmured, thick lashes brushing your knuckles fleetingly before he retreated.

You heaved a shuddering breath, internally willing your racing heart to slow. The pounding rain and occasional crackling bursts of thunder sounded more ominous in the yawning darkness, sending fresh prickles skittering down your spine.

Just when you felt on the precipice of panicking, Akaashi's low tenor carried over from behind the sectional.

"Got it."

Momentarily, a warm golden glow began emanating from the kitchen as he lit an array of utility candles and lanterns. He reappeared bearing several flickering flames and a fleece blanket tucked under his arm.

You shakily exhaled in profound relief at the sight of him - your safe harbor. Without preamble, Akaashi settled right beside you on the floor, draping the heavy fleece comforter over both of your laps before tucking you against his side.

"Better?" he murmured gently.

You could only nod, nuzzling deeper into the solid warmth of him while the flickering candle flames cast his striking features in dancing shadows and light. Akaashi maneuvered his long limbs until you were nestled into his embrace, his chin grazing the crown of your head.

Minutes ticked by, your thundering heartbeat gradually receding to a more sedate cadence in tandem with the rhythmic rise and fall of Akaashi's chest beneath your cheek. You allowed your eyes to drift shut, savoring the cocooning sanctuary of blankets, flickering candelabra, and his intoxicating spice-and-cedarwood cologne.

"This reminds me of being a kid and having sleepovers during thunderstorms," you mumbled groggily against his solid frame.

A rumbling chuckle reverberated beneath your palms where they rested over his heart.

"Is that so? I can't say I have many nostalgic memories of making pillow forts and telling ghost stories with friends."

You cracked open one eye to peer up at his striking silhouette, mouth tugging in a bemused smile. "No? I suppose actively seeking out haunted places for volleyball practice with Kou was more your style."

Akaashi snorted softly, letting the gentle teasing roll off him with fond exasperation. You drank in the way the muted candlelight played over the elegant slopes of his profile, heartbeat catching at the tenderness reflected in his storm-cloud irises. Quite abruptly, it struck you just how closely intertwined you were sprawled together.

Your nose was mere centimeters from grazing the stubbled hinge of his jaw as your gazes locked and held. A kaleidoscope of expressions flickered across Akaashi's face too quickly to decipher - tender longing, surprise, the quietest yearning. You felt simultaneously emboldened and paralyzed by the magnetism charging the scant breaths separating you.

His tongue swiped across his bottom lip instinctively and you were powerless to stop your own from mirroring the motion. That simple flick of movement brought your shared awareness crashing into riotous clarity.

"Y/N..." Akaashi's murmur vibrated over your swiftly warming skin like the rumble of oncoming thunder.

More words seemed to tether on the tip of his tongue, weighted and unspoken. Instead, he slowly inclined his face nearer - silently beseeching for permission with those piercing steel-grey irises. Your own eyes fluttered shut, tilting up to meet him halfway in quiet invitation.

The roar of the raging storm outside dimmed to a distant thrum as Akaashi closed the last hairsbreadth between your parted lips. His mouth slanted over yours in a slow, exploratory glide of searing heat. An electrical current jolted through you, catalyzing an invisible spark that ignited something molten and cataclysmic threatening to engulf you both in its fervor.

The gentle rasp of Akaashi's stubble feathering your cheek contrasted exquisitely with the velvet glide of his mouth moving in unhurried exploration across yours. You sank feverishly into the intimate glide, emboldened by his smoldering patience to tease the seam of his lips with a flick of your tongue.

He rewarded your ardor with a low rumbling exhale, immediately deepening the lush kiss and cradling your nape to tilt your head to a more devouring angle. The hand spanning your lower back scorched through the thin cotton barrier, urging you closer until you were sprawled fully across his powerful thighs.

A rush of trembling desire flooded your veins at the dominance of his hold, the tender way his other palm cradled your flushed cheek as if you were something precious to be cherished. You curled your fingers against the taut muscles sheathed by his t-shirt, absorbing the staggering heat radiating from him in waves.

Gradually, the leisurely sensuality of exchanging openmouthed kisses in the flickering candlelight evolved into something rawer, more heated. Akaashi's normally implacable control began shredding away as your tongue tangled with his in delirious cadence, exchanging breathy moans between slick slides of intimate friction.

His broad hands roamed in smoldering exploration - tracing the feminine dip of your waist, palming the flare of your hip in a commanding grip that sent your head spinning. When his calloused thumb traced the underside curve of your breast, you gasped into his mouth - entire body arching wantonly against the rigid line of his arousal.

The barest thread of sanity had you breaking away, reeling for oxygen in harsh pants against the glistening angle of Akaashi's jaw. His quicksilver gaze watched you through a lust-dazed haze, pulse fluttering wildly beneath his flushed skin where you cupped the column of his throat. Slowly, reverently, he turned to feather a trail of searing kisses along your quickening pulse point.

"Keiji..." you whimpered, fingers spasming against his chest when the velvet heat of his mouth found the juncture of your shoulder, teeth grazing tauntingly. "I can't...we should—ah!"

The needy whine sheared off as he sucked a blistering mark just below your clavicle, tongue flickering to soothe the hot sting of overstimulation. His knowing hum ricocheted straight to your molten core, heavy-lidded eyes lifting to pin you in place with fathomless yearning.

"We can stop whenever you wish," Akaashi rasped roughly against your damp skin, callused palms smoothing inescapable paths down your trembling body. "But I personally have no intention of going slowly after wanting this for so torturously long..."

You swallowed thickly, sanity careening precariously as his midnight timbre ghosted like sin over the swell of your breasts, lips mapping a scorching path lower with every inhalation. The last coherent thought filtering through ribboned into embers as Akaashi pressed you back onto the plush shag rug - moonlight and swaying candleflames framing his predatory form hovering above you.

"If I have my way, we won't be stopping until I've learned every exquisite sound you make," he whispered, nimble fingers already slipping beneath the hem of your borrowed hoodie. "Until you're utterly ruined for anyone else, only ever remembering how it feels to be loved by me."

A keening whimper rose unbidden in your throat, hips canting instinctively as his callused palms glided over the exposed expanse of your midriff. Akaashi's answering smirk was pure wickedness, the promise of a reckoning looming in his molten stare as his hands traveled further upwards.

"Let me show you how badly I've been craving you..." he murmured, palming your breasts in a kneading caress that left you gasping and arching wantonly. When his thumb grazed the pebbled peaks, you arched mindlessly into the delicious friction, eyes drifting shut with a low moan. Akaashi's rumbling chuckle rippled over your skin, then his scorching mouth was descending to follow his deft hands.

Your spine bowed when he took one nipple between his lips, rolling and tugging it until the pleasure was near-blinding. Akaashi's name tumbled from your lips in a fevered prayer, fingers scrabbling uselessly against his broad shoulders. His free hand grasped your hip in a firm hold, pinning you to the rug as his mouth continued its ruthless assault on the other pebbled bud.

You squirmed helplessly against the searing contact, panting for air as your blood boiled. All the while, Akaashi never faltered in his meticulous attentions - suckling and grazing his teeth until the ache coalesced into a desperate throbbing.

"Please..." you finally cried out, nails scoring his shirt with desperation.

Akaashi relented at last, raising his head with a wet pop to regard your wrecked state. His eyes flashed, mouth curving into a devastating smirk as he pressed a tender kiss to the center of your sternum.

"So pretty when you beg..."

Before you could even process his words, he was lowering his mouth between your trembling thighs - callused palms prying them wider apart. You keened at the first slick sweep of his tongue over your clothed core, fingers fisting desperately into the plush rug.

"F-fuck..."

The profanity spilled unbidden from your lips, incinerated by the white-hot sensation of Akaashi lapping greedily between your legs. His dark hair fell in silky disarray, obscuring his face where his nose nudged against your swollen bud. A growl rumbled up his throat as his tongue flattened against the soaked fabric.

"These need to go..." he mumbled, already reaching to slide your shorts and panties down your trembling legs. You barely had a moment to process his intent before his scorching mouth was descending upon the throbbing flesh, lapping and sucking until your entire body shuddered with need.

You writhed helplessly, head falling back onto the rug with a strangled cry. Akaashi's groan vibrated against your core, fingers digging into the backs of your thighs as he devoured you. His tongue swirled and plunged, driving you into a frenzy of pleasure so intense you felt your entire being shattering.

The world blurred and warped into a shimmering prism of sensation as he sucked mercilessly on your clit, the sharp scrape of his stubble against your inner thighs sending sparks ricocheting through your system. You keened, bucking helplessly against his merciless mouth.

"God, right there!"

Akaashi seemed to drink in the frenzied praise, doubling his efforts until your vision whitened at the edges. He growled possessively, nipping your swollen bud just as his fingers slid through the dripping mess to find your aching entrance.

One blunt digit plunged into your quivering core, then two. You were already clenching tightly around the welcome intrusion, riding the knife's edge of a bone-deep orgasm. Akaashi curled his fingers, seeking that elusive spot as his lips suctioned ruthlessly.

It only took a few expert strokes of his digits and the wicked swipe of his tongue before the world disintegrated. Your spine bowed violently, a scream tearing from your lungs as pleasure detonated along every nerve. Akaashi kept pumping, coaxing you through wave after wave of pulsing heat.

Gradually, you came back down to earth in a boneless puddle - heart racing and muscles trembling. Akaashi's dark hair was a complete wreck, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy as he watched you through thick lashes. The corner of his mouth lifted, lips glistening with the evidence of your pleasure.

"God, you're so fucking perfect," he murmured hoarsely, leaning down to drag a slow kiss across your trembling abdomen. You whimpered at the tender contact, fingers sliding into the silk of his locks.

When he pulled back, it was only to peel his shirt over his head - revealing the sculpted planes of his torso in all its glory. Akaashi's eyes flashed as he watched your appreciative stare drinking in the sight, his cock visibly twitching in his jeans.

He surged up to capture your lips in a dizzying kiss, tongue swirling against yours with a renewed fervor. You tasted the musk of yourself lingering on his mouth, the heady rush of sensation making you arch against his body.

Your hands roamed hungrily, mapping the dips and ridges of muscle along his back. When they drifted lower, he groaned low in his throat as you palmed the stiff line of his arousal through the denim. Akaashi's own hands were busy divesting you of your remaining clothing - shoving the hoodie up to expose the curves of your breasts again.

You squirmed, grinding against the rigid pressure as the tension rapidly spiraled towards unbearable. Akaashi's jaw tensed, a muscle feathering in his cheek as his nostrils flared. He broke the kiss to reach down and roughly free himself, hissing at the sensation.

Your lips parted on a silent gasp as you took in the sight of his cock. Even the first few inches jutting out above his fist looked painfully thick, a bead of precome welling at the tip.

Akaashi met your gaze, a flush staining his cheeks as you watched him stroke the swollen flesh. His stormy eyes were hooded, pupils blown wide and glimmering with restrained hunger.

"Is this what you want?" he rasped, voice fraying at the edges as his cockhead nudged the slick folds. You bit your lip, arching closer as he dragged his length along the slit - coating himself in your arousal. "You need to tell me if it's too much, okay?"

"Yes...please, Keiji..."

Your head fell back with a broken moan as he slid into your tight, fluttering entrance inch by inch. Akaashi's mouth fell open on a groan, hips stuttering when he finally bottomed out.

The delicious stretch of him filled you completely, every ridge and vein pulsing inside your walls. Your nails scored his back as you shifted restlessly, acclimating to the overwhelming sensation of fullness.

Akaashi exhaled shakily, nuzzling your neck as his palm skated down your stomach to find your throbbing clit. His hips began rocking gently, pulling out to the tip before sliding back into the welcoming clutch of your walls.

You clung to him, shuddering and moaning at the incredible friction. The air grew heavier, more charged with each deliberate glide - the wet sound of your coupling ringing obscenely. Akaashi's mouth was hot against your flushed skin, tongue sweeping out to taste the salt.

His hips gradually gained momentum, driving deeper until you were nearly delirious with pleasure. The room spun, every nerve singing. When he adjusted the angle to hit the sensitive spot deep inside, a breathless cry tore from your throat.

"God, right there, please don't stop!"

The command was punctuated with a roll of your own hips, seeking the delicious friction. Akaashi growled, teeth nipping your jaw as he drove into you harder - his thumb circling your clit faster.

Your second orgasm slammed into you with the force of a freight train. You screamed, eyes screwing shut as the blinding pleasure ricocheted through your veins. Your walls clamped around his shaft, milking him with a spasm.

With a guttural curse, Akaashi's hips stuttered and his cock pulsed violently. You felt the drag of him sliding out, then the hot splash of his cum coating your abdomen. Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his glassy, lust-addled stare.

He braced his weight on trembling arms, dipping his head to capture your lips in a deep, soul-stealing kiss. Your tongues tangled languidly, sharing breathless little gasps and moans. When he finally broke away, it was only to press a chaste kiss to the tip of your nose.

"You are so beautiful..."

His reverent murmur ghosted over your skin, making your chest clench. You carded your fingers through the silky locks, smoothing his hair back. Akaashi's eyelids drooped, savoring the contact before lifting them to reveal that same intense tenderness.

You could feel yourself getting lost in the stormy gray, drifting closer. His gaze was magnetic, drawing you in. Your breath hitched as he leaned in, pausing with his lips a hair's breadth from yours.

"Can we do that again?" he murmured, the ghost of a smirk playing about his mouth.

Your laughter pealed through the darkened room, bright and free. You felt lightheaded with elation, heart brimming.

"As often as you want," you promised, nipping playfully at his lower lip. "Although I hope there are some positions other than missionary..."

"I'll give you all my best ones," Akaashi rumbled, his expression turning positively sinful. "Over the couch, in the shower, bent over the kitchen table...every surface in this apartment..."

You hummed thoughtfully, running a teasing fingertip along the curve of his jaw. "What about the bed?"

His eyes sparkled, the corner of his mouth quirking. "Especially the bed."

You laughed, pulling him down for another kiss - the last rational thought to filter through ribboning into a whisper.

"It's a date, then."

bonus:

The door rattled violently as a sudden pounding echoed through the apartment. You and Akaashi froze in naked surprise on the living room couch.

"BABY SIS! YOU IN THERE?! I'M SO SORRY I'M LATE!" Bokuto's frantic bellow reverberated down the hall, accompanied by more insistent knocking.

Your eyes widened in panic as Akaashi hurriedly grabbed a throw blanket, shielding your bare forms just as the front door burst open. Framed in the doorway stood Bokuto, drenched from head to toe and illuminated by the beam of a flashlight clutched in one hand.

"There you are! Are you okay?" His wild eyes swept the room before locking onto you huddled against Akaashi's equally undressed form on the sofa. "I knew how freaked out you get during big storms so I rushed over as soon as the--"

Bokuto's words sheared off abruptly as the realization visibly slammed into him. His owlish gaze bounced between you and Akaashi slack-jawed, the flashlight beam spinning dizzily. You shrank back, clutching the blanket modestly as a blistering blush consumed your face.

Akaashi, damn him, simply held Bokuto's shocked stare with infuriatingly placid nonchalance.

An eternity seemed to stretch in that crackling, awkward moment. Finally, Bokuto swallowed hard, adam's apple bobbing.

"I...I'll umm...I'll just..." He gestured vaguely over his shoulder before slowly pivoting on his heel.

Silently, with exaggerated care, Bokuto began shuffling backwards out of the apartment - gaze studiously averted and mouth still agape. When he reached the door he briefly met Akaashi's unflinching stare one last time before whirling around and bolting.

The door slammed with a rattling boom, leaving you and Akaashi alone once more amid the flickering candles in a weighty hush.

You chanced a sidelong glance at Akaashi, unable to bite back the somewhat hysterical giggle bubbling up.

"Well...I suppose there are worse ways for him to find out we're...you know..."

Akaashi merely hummed, mouth kicking up in a wry half-smile as he tugged you snugly against his chest once more.

"Indeed. Though I must admit, I've never seen Bokuto-san's typically energetic demeanor so effectively stunned into silence."

Laughing helplessly, you nuzzled into the sleep-warmed crook of his neck - delighting in the simple intimacy of being wrapped up with the man you adored after the mortifying interruption.

"Should we be expecting the shovel talk next time he comes barreling in?" you teased lightly.

"Undoubtedly," Akaashi rumbled, fingertips trailing patterns along the exposed expanse of your back that raised goosebumps. "Just another family bonding moment to look forward to."

You hummed contentedly, sinking deeper into his solid embrace as the rumbling storm outside at last began tapering off to distant echoes. A new dawn was cresting over the horizon, heralding uncharted beginnings filled with promise.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗕𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗛𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗕𝗢𝗬

　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: When Chris is starting to come to terms with the horrible idea that he will have to spend his birthday away from Y/N, a surprise takes him, literally, by surprise.

WARNING: Making-out.

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: A small story only to warm up for their birthday! I'm going to post more tomorrow 🩷

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The day before the triplets' 21st birthday in Boston was marked by a mix of nostalgia and melancholy for Chris. Despite the bustling energy of their family home, Chris couldn't shake off the heavy feeling of absence. Matt and Nick seemed to be in higher spirits, enjoying their time back home, but Chris felt an emptiness that gnawed at him relentlessly.

Chris had always been too close to Y/N, his girlfriend, who had remained in LA due to her college classes. And as he sat in the living room, watching his family laugh and share stories, Chris couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sadness. He missed Y/N's laughter, her presence, the way she made every moment brighter.

The fact that she couldn’t be there for such a significant milestone made him feel both sad and angry, though he knew it wasn’t her fault. College was important, and he respected her dedication to her studies.

The house was filled with the comforting smells of home-cooked meals and the familiar sounds of family. Chris held his phone in his hand, scrolling through old pictures of him and Y/N, trying to fill the void with memories of their time together.

His thumb paused on a picture Nick took of them at American Ninja Warrior, both of them grinning widely at the camera. It had been taken just a few weeks ago, during their filming. He could almost hear her laugh, see the way her eyes sparkled in the neons light. The longing in his heart intensified, making him feel even more isolated despite being surrounded by his loved ones.

Mary Lou noticed her son's downcast demeanor very quickly, and as soon as she got a little space, she went to sit beside him.

"Chris, honey, what's wrong? You’ve been so quiet all day." She said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, caressing the area.

Chris sighed, leaning into his mother's comforting touch.

"I just miss Y/N, Mom. I know she has classes and all, but it feels wrong to be celebrating without her." He tried to smile, lowering his eyes.

"I understand, sweetheart." Mary Lou gave him a sympathetic smile. "But remember, she’s always with you in spirit. And you’ll see her soon enough. Try to enjoy this time with your family. It’s been so long since we were all together like this."

He nodded, appreciating her words but still feeling the weight of Y/N’s absence. He knew he should be more present, more engaged with his family, and the guilt of not doing that weighted above him, but his thoughts kept drifting back to LA, to the love of his life.

That night, Chris lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The house was quiet now, everyone else had gone to sleep, tired from the day's activities. He picked up his phone again, contemplating sending Y/N another message. They had exchanged texts throughout the day, but he didn’t want to seem too needy or make her feel guilty for not being there.

Instead, he decided to call her. The phone rang a few times before she picked up, her voice soft and sleepy.

"Hey, honey." She murmured. "Is everything okay?"

Hearing her voice brought a rush of comfort and a pang of sorrow to Chris, a smile taking over his features automatically.

"Hi, babe. Yeah, everything’s fine. I just... I miss you. I wish you were here." His voice sounded soft and lower than usual.

"Oh, babe, I miss you too." She said, and he could hear the sincerity in her voice. "I wish I could be there, Chris. I really do. But I promise, we’ll celebrate when you get back, okay?"

Chris sighed, closing his eyes for a few seconds before reopening them, looking at her contact name glowing on the small screen.

"I know. I just... It’s hard, you know? Being here without you. It doesn't feel right."

"I know, babe. But you’re surrounded by family, and they love you. Try to have a good time, for them. And for me." He almost could listen her sweet smile across the phone.

He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him, breathing deeply.

"I’ll try. I just can’t wait to see you."

"Me too. Get some rest, pretty boy. Tomorrow's a big day. I love you." She whispered softly, the sound of sheets moving around echoing in the background.

"I love you too, Y/N. Goodnight." He muttered quietly, biting his bottom lip slightly.

As he hung up the phone, Chris felt a mixture of emotions. He tried to focus on the next day as he drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the day he’d be back in Y/N’s arms.

Unbeknownst to Chris, Y/N had been planning something special. She had spent the last few weeks organizing a surprise that she hoped would make up for her absence. She knew how much this milestone meant to him and his brothers, and she wanted to be a part of it in any way she could.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The morning of the triplets' birthday dawned crisp and clear in Boston. Mary Lou was already in the kitchen, bustling about as she prepared a grand breakfast. The aroma of sizzling bacon, freshly baked muffins, and brewing coffee filled the house, a warm and welcoming scent that promised a day full of celebration.

Jimmy and Justin had gone to the grocery store to pick up some last-minute items needed for the big birthday lunch they were planning. The house was alive with activity, everyone playing their part in making this day special.

Matt and Nick had left early, driving to the airport to pick up Y/N. They had been in on the surprise from the start, eager to help bring a genuine smile to Chris's face. The drive was filled with excitement and a few playful jabs at how Chris would react, trying to imagine his expression when he saw Y/N in their home. Y/N herself was a bundle of nerves and anticipation, her heart racing at the thought of surprising Chris. She had barely slept after their call, her mind buzzing with plans and excitement.

As Matt and Nick’s car pulled up to the curb at the airport, Y/N spotted them and waved excitedly, a big smile on her face. They greeted her with warm hugs and excited chatter, filling her in on the plans for the day.

The drive back to the house was filled with lively conversation, Y/N asking about every little detail of their plan, wanting everything to be perfect. Matt and Nick reassured her that everything was set and that their parents were in on the surprise, ready to welcome her with open arms.

As they drove through the streets of Boston, Y/N suddenly remembered something.

"Hey, Matt? Can we stop by a flower shop?" She asked, a hint of urgency in her voice while her eyes kept watching the landscape moving quickly through the window. "I want to get something special for Chris."

Matt and Nick exchanged a glance, then nodded.

"Sure, we can do that." Matt said, turning the car toward the nearest florist he knew all too well from the times his father used to bring them there to buy some flowers for Mary Lou.

The flower shop was a charming little place filled with the vibrant colors and sweet scents of countless blooms. Y/N spent a few minutes selecting the perfect bouquet, a beautiful arrangement of Chris's favorite flowers. She wanted it to be just right, a small token of her love and the effort she put into making his day special.

When they finally pulled back into the driveway, Y/N's heart felt like it might burst from her chest. She took a deep breath, clutching the bouquet tightly, and followed Matt and Nick into the house.

Mary Lou greeted her with a warm hug, kissing her face with excitement and whispering words of encouragement. They placed her surprises in the living room, the bouquet taking center stage among the carefully wrapped gifts.

Y/N took a deep breath, looking at the family for a last time before climbing the stairs slowly, each step heightening her anticipation.

Chris's door was slightly ajar, and she peeked in to see him still asleep, his form cocooned under the heavy blankets. She slipped into the room quietly, closing the door softly behind her. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on Chris's peaceful face.

Y/N approached the bed, her movements slow and deliberate. She carefully lay down beside him, positioning herself so she could watch him without disturbing his sleep. For a long moment, she just observed him, taking in every detail. His dark hair was tousled, and there was a softness to his features that only appeared when he was at rest. She felt a swell of affection as she noted the faint smile on his lips, wondering if he was dreaming of something pleasant.

The room was quiet except for the rhythmic sound of his breathing. Y/N reached out, her fingers barely brushing his cheek before she drew them back, not wanting to wake him too abruptly. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body, a comforting presence that she had missed so much. Her heart ached with a mix of love and longing, overwhelmed by the sight of him so close yet so unaware of her presence.

After what felt like an eternity, Y/N leaned in closer, her lips hovering near his ear.

"Chris." She whispered softly, her voice barely more than a breath. "Wake up, pretty boy."

Chris stirred slightly but didn't open his eyes, better accommodating his position.

"Five more minutes, babe." He mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. There was a pause, and then his eyes snapped open. "Wait, babe?" He lifted his head from the pillow, and when he saw Y/N lying beside him, his eyes widened in shock, his body sitting up abruptly. "Y/N?"

She smiled, tears of happiness welling in her eyes, sitting up to be on the same level as him.

"Happy birthday, Chris." She said, her voice filled with warmth and love.

Chris blinked a few times as if trying to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Then, a broad smile spread across his face, and he pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Baby, oh my God! I can't believe you're here!" He exclaimed, his voice a mix of joy and disbelief.

"I wouldn't miss your birthday for anything." She replied, hugging him back just as tightly. "I wanted to surprise you."

Chris pulled back slightly, looking at her with a mixture of awe and adoration.

"This is the best birthday present ever." He said, his eyes shining with happiness. "I was so sad you couldn't be here, and now... you're really here."

Y/N laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

"I'm here, Chris. I'm really here, and I'm not going anywhere else." She whispered, her thumb caressing his forehead softly, traveling to his brows and cheek bones. "Okay?"

"I've missed you so much." He muttered, his hands snaking up her shoulders to her face, cupping her cheeks, his fingers threading into her hair, and finally brought his lips crashing down onto hers in a hard, heated kiss. The intensity of it took her breath away, her knees going weak as she clung to him for support, her hands lowering to his jaw.

Chris kissed her with a desperation that spoke of all the days they had been apart, his lips moving against hers with a raw, unrestrained passion. His hands moved to her waist, gripping her tightly as he pulled her onto his lap, settling her straddling him. The closeness sent a shiver down her spine, and she could feel the rapid thud of his heart against her chest, mirroring her own.

Y/N's hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently as she kissed him back with equal fervor. The kiss deepened, their tongues meeting in a heated dance that left them both gasping for air. Chris's hands roamed over her back, pulling her closer as if trying to erase the distance that had been between them. He groaned softly against her lips, a sound that sent a rush of warmth through her.

Y/N could feel the world spinning around her, her senses overwhelmed by Chris's touch, his taste, his scent. His hands were everywhere, touching, caressing, exploring, and killing all the bad feelings he felt away from her.

When they finally broke apart, gasping for air, Chris buried his head in the crook of her neck, his breathing ragged hitting against her skin.

"I love you so much, babe." He whispered against her skin, his voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea how much I've missed you. This is the best gift I could ever ask for."

Y/N's heart swelled with love and tenderness as she held him close, feeling his vulnerability and happiness. She could feel his tears wetting her skin, and she gently stroked his back, comforting him.

"Oh, honey, don't cry." She whispered, her voice soft while her hands traveled to his hair, massaging his curls. "I love you. So much."

They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, their hearts beating in sync. Eventually, they pulled apart, and Chris took a deep breath, his heart feeling lighter than it had in days.

"Come on." He said, his voice switching to one full of excitement. "Let's go downstairs, I can smell breakfast from here."

taglist:

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(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[disneyprincemuke]

look after you * fem!driver

the heat of the qatar race alongside her period proved to be much more than she can handle; although she doesn’t tell anybody that

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!driver, sebastian vettel x fem!driver, alex albon x fem!driver, carlos sainz x fem!driver, charles leclerc x fem!driver

warnings: mentions of period, not feeling well

notes: hi i told u we're back to regularly scheduled fem!driver content... although, i do have a plan for something else later tonight! i also seem to be getting over my writer's block, sOOO WE SHOULD BE GOOD TO GO WITH THE REST OF MY FICS

also, i'm very curious where u guys think i'm from because i'm awake at the most ludicrous of hours answering asks and messages so like idk

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

she sits back in her seat, eyes darting all over the garage as mechanics and engineers scramble around to prepare her car for the race later today.

the sprint race yesterday was just as excruciating as she expected. the heat, the intensity of the race, and the fact that she's suddenly got her period was not a good mix as it proves.

she barely survived the duration of the sprint yesterday. she was visibly pale climbing out of her car, chest heaving and makeup melting off as she took her helmet off. it didn't take long for sebastian to catch on to her state when she entered the garage after weigh-in.

"kid," sebastian stops right in front of her, head tilted to the side in concern. he's got a cold can of pepsi in his hands when she looks up. "are you feeling okay? you don't have to race today if you're not well."

"no, i'm fine," she nods, taking the pepsi into her hands. she smiles up at him weakly as she sips on the straw. "i'm okay."

"well, you didn't look very okay yesterday," sebastian frowns. "don't be pressured to race tonight if you don't feel like it. your safety is more important than the race and it's unbelievably hot here tonight."

she shakes her head, slowly getting up as she remembers the drivers' parade that she has to attend. "i can definitely race today. i promise i'm fine," she reassures him with a pat to his shoulder. "i just need more pepsi to feel refreshed."

"you've got to drink water at some point for hydration," sebastian mutters. "i've got some in the freezer for before the race. drink it, okay?"

she grins at him with a thumbs up, slowly exiting the garage. "i will drink the ice cold water."

when she turns around to walk towards where other drivers have gathered, she backs into somebody's body, making her whirl around with an apology on her lips.

"i'm so sorry!"

"oh, it's alright!" a familiar giggle fills her ears and a hand comes up to her shoulder to offer some support. when she turns around, alex is smiling down at her as he steps aside to walk with her. "oh, your hair is up in a ponytail today. is something wrong?"

"what?" she's taken aback by the question - why is her ponytail such a big deal? "what about the ponytail?"

"i've just never seen you bring your hair up before on a race weekend," alex frowns, tugging at a strand of hair gently. “you look cute. and- oh, no makeup today?”

she shakes her head with a frown. “the heat practically melted my makeup off yesterday. that shit’s expensive and uncomfortable,” she mutters, bottom lip out in a pout as they walk.

when they approach the small group gathered by the pit lane, she’s greeted by oscar’s surprised gasp and carlos’s confused head tilt.

she lifts her arms, palms into the sky as she throws them a scowl. “what?”

carlos tears his eyes away immediately, but oscar maintains his gaze on her. “you’re not wearing any makeup.”

“yeah, so?”

oscar furrows his eyebrows and turns his body away from her. “nothing, just odd. you typically like doing your makeup.”

“it’s too hot to do my makeup,” she sighs, not liking that she has to repeat herself. “it practically melted off during yesterday’s sprint.”

“that’s true. comfort over anything else,” carlos nods with an approving smile. “please remember to drink some water later.”

“you and seb are so alike,” she grins, patting the spaniard’s shoulder. “that’s exactly what he told me earlier.”

“yeah, because everyone knows you don’t drink water when you’ve got,” oscar snatches the drink in her hand, “a pepsi in your hand. so unhealthy.”

“well, it makes me feel so sparkly in my mouth,” she fights back, snatching it back. “mind your own drink!”

“what’s u– you look different today,” logan says, slowly approaching the circle. with a hand on the small of her back, he tilts his head slightly as he scans her face. “is it the hair?”

“no, mate,” oscar smirks, “she didn’t do her makeup.”

“oh! how come?” logan frowns, pinching her cheek. “i was wondering why you hadn’t sent a selfie to the groupchat yet begging for compliments.”

“yeah, true,” oscar chuckles. “that does seem to be a trend, doesn’t it?”

“you guys get selfies for free?” carlos frowns. “she always asks me to pay like a thousand every weekend i ask her what she’s wearing to the paddocks.”

“only a thousand? she asks me for millions,” alex finally speaks again with the shake of his head. “what a business woman you are.”

carlos raises an eyebrow. “all jokes aside though… you are looking a bit pale. are you feeling okay?”

she smiles, a thumbs up raised next to her face. “of course!”

“mate, you don’t look very well,” she mutters, sipping on her pepsi as she approaches logan. “the flu still got you bad?”

“pretty bad,” logan sighs, slumping his shoulders. “but i’ll be alright.”

she hums, pressing her lips together as she looks at him from the side of her eye. “i’m not sure if i believe you, actually.”

“if anyone’s more of a liar between us, it’s you,” he puts his hands on his hips, “you look worse than i do and you just keep insisting you’re fine

“is it because i’ve not got makeup on?” she scowls at him, winding her hand back to smack him on the shoulder.

“what?” he cries incredulously, throwing his head back in shock. “where’d you get that? i didn’t even say anything about the makeup!”

“it’s just such a coincidence that everyone’s saying i look sick without makeup on.”

“it’s really not that. you just don’t look like you’re coping well with the heat.”

“oh, cause god forbid a woman sweats.”

“i literally didn’t even say that.”

“you may as well have.”

“you’re crazy.”

“you guys are driving me crazy with all these questions.”

“cut it out,” oscar scolds, coming up from behind them. he steps between their bodies and separates them. “grid kids are coming. please behave.”

“he said i look sick because i didn’t have makeup on,” she mutters, pointing at logan.

“i said she doesn’t look like she’s coping well with the heat! i never said anything about the lack of makeup!” logan answers hurriedly, leaning forward to scowl at her from oscar’s side. “will you tell her to cut it out?”

“tell him to stop telling me i look sick!”

“okay,” oscar says, hands up as she stops speaking. he turns to logan. “stop aggravating her — you already know what’s pissing her off, so stop bringing it up and asking her.”

then, he turns to the girl with narrowed down eyes. “and you do look a bit sick, and trust me, it’s nothing to do with the fact that you didn’t do your makeup. you just look like you are going to pass out,” oscar sighs. “just drink some water, and i’m sure you will look slightly more alive.”

he straightens his back as more drivers pile towards them for the opening ceremony for the race. “now, cut it out and just act normal. please.”

“are you sure you’re fit to race tonight?” sebastian asks again, eyebrows raised as she zips up her race suit. “no harm in pulling out if you’re not okay.”

“seb,” she says in a laugh, securing the velcro around her neck. “i’m okay. it’s just another day in the office.”

“your mum would personally shave my head if she finds out i let you race when you’re not well,” sebastian sighs. he places a hand on her shoulder. “seriously. please sit out if you need to.”

“i’m,” she turns to him and puts a hand on his elbow, “seriously okay. please don’t worry so much. this is what i do — i race.”

“fine,” sebastian smiles. “but promise me you’ll keep me updated how you’re doing during the race.”

“i always do,” she smiles, leaning into his body for a hug. like they always do before she gets in the car for the formation lap. “promise me you won’t pull me out without my approval.”

“i’d never dare cross you."

well. she didn’t feel good the entire race. it was too hot the entire race, her seat was burning, and sweat flooded her face almost three-quarters of the duration.

the sensation of her hair sticking to her neck and her sweaty head is driving her to the brink of overstimulation. perhaps it’s with the added bouts of cramps that would come every few minutes.

but she doubts it’s the period making her feel sensitive. it’s not her first time racing with the conditions of her period.

she finished in p5, which is arguably very nice, but she just feels very suffocated in her race suit and the helmet that hugs her.

“is logan alright?” she manages to ask, driving her car into parc ferme. “you mentioned he retired during the race?”

“he’s alright. dehydration, i think,” sebastian answers her through the radio. “medical centre with james.”

“what about oscar? he’s okay?”

“he’s alright, from what i can see from the pit wall. he’s got p3.”

“crazy stats for a rookie,” she smiles as the car stops. “can i just sit here for a while, please?”

“do you need help getting out of the car?”

“i don’t,” she trails off, her head starting to spin now that she’s no longer in motion. instantly, her chest starts to feel heavier and her breaths become shallow. “i just… just need a minute.”

every breath she takes is proven to be worse than before. the hot air hits her in the face, the helmet and the balaclava restricting the type of air she can get.

she just wants to lay back in an ice bath, if she could. if she could just manage to get out of the car, that is.

a tap on the top of her helmet urges her to look up, doe eyes meeting a pair of dreamy green eyes. one that she doesn’t see often, but has always looked up to since she was young.

“are you okay?”

“charles,” she says breathily, her vision getting blurrier by the second. “i’m okay. i just needed a minute. it’s very hot.”

“it is,” he smiles. “do you need help getting out?”

“i’m alright,” she says softly. “it’s just a little hard to breathe.”

“it would probably help if you take off the helmet,” he suggests. “i’ll hold it for you — take it off now so you can get fresh air.”

she nods, reaching beneath her chin to unclip the helmet. slowly, she pulls it off her head, then charles takes it into his hands.

instantly, she does feel slightly better. she pulls the balaclava away from her nose, allowing her to deepen the breaths she’s taking as she attempts to regain her composure.

“doesn’t that feel much better?” charles grins. “let me help you out of the car and let’s head to weigh-in together. sound okay?”

she smiles with a nod. “okay.”

the way charles leclerc has her starstruck even after racing alongside him the entire year is something she will never understand. she climbs out of the car, charles’ arms lifted up protectively around her as she wobbles out.

then she realises that he’s holding both of their stuff. she tries reaching over to take her helmet into her hands, but he simply twists his body away from her as he shakes his hesd.

“take off the gloves. you’ll feel so good,” charles smiles at her, still walking alongside her. “and the balaclava. don’t worry about your helmet.”

“thank you,” she smiles, her cheeks flushed as she does as she’s instructed. “how was your race?”

“it was okay,” charles says simply. “you drank water during the race, yes?”

“a little. it wasn’t very refreshing when i did,” she sighs. she holds her balavlaca and gloves in one hand, smiling when charles finally hands her her helmet. “though, i think- whoa!”

her sentence is cut off immediately, her helmet falling to the ground with a loud thud as she lands on her knees against the pavement. her hands dig into the gravel as she drops her head low, slightly embarrassed that she’d tripped on absolutely nothing to the naked eye.

“hey, are you alright?” charles asks hurriedly, bending down next to her. he puts his helmet down on the ground gently, a hand wrapping around her elbow and the other around her shoulders. “what happened?”

“i don’t know,” she sighs. she straightens her back slightly, sitting on her knees. “i got dizzy for a second.”

“we better get you to someone who knows how to take care of you,” charles sighs, looking up at the crowd that’s gathered around them.

one of them, being carlos, who sat out for the race today. “i’ll bring her to the medical centre,” carlos mutters, wrapping his arms around the younger girl. “get her things to seb. i’ve got her.”

“stupid,” was the first thing logan said to her when she stepped into the room in the medical centre.

she scowls at him, a cold pack of ice gel sitting on her forehead as carlos helps her get settled into her seat. “shut up.”

“no, you shut up.”

“both of you shut up,” carlos sighs. he bends down and reappears with two bottles of water. “both of you are like, extremely dehydrated. please drink some water.”

“you didn’t drink the water seb asked you to drink before the race?” logan scoffs. “should have known better. you’re on your period, aren’t you?”

“you’re one to talk — you literally refused to drink the water they gave you in the car,” she scoffs. “and how do you know that?”

“you only physically reject water when you’re on your period, idiot,” logan sighs, sinking in his seat and closing his eyes. “also, i live with you. of course i know when the devil comes to visit you.”

“drink,” carlos says again, handing her the opened bottle of water. “i know it’s not super cold water, but you’ve got to drink something.”

“only freezing water for me,” she frowns, pushing the bottle back into carlos’s body. “you heard logan: i’m on my period.”

“i’ve got your stupid water right here.” the door is opened, sebastian holding it open with a bottle in his hand. he flashes a grin at his driver before extending his arm to give her the bottle. “drink up, please.”

“do you know she is on her period today?” carlos snorts, pointing at the girl. “no wonder she was being weird all day.”

the look of realisation that dawns on sebastian’s face can only be described as priceless. typically, him and noah, her physical trainer, are quite up to date with her statistics.

for something this serious to be overlooked with the chaotic weekend was a big issue.

“oh,” sebastian frowns. “why didn’t you tell me? we could have looked after you better.”

she smiles, closing her eyes. she waves off his concern. “i was okay. finished in the points without makeup melting on my face.”

“okay, what do you m- you literally almost fainted after the race!” sebastian groans, scratching his head in confusion. “nothing about that screams okay!”

“her definition is okay is that she’s not dead,” logan says monotonously.

“which is a good definition, if you ask me.”

“but it’s stupid,” sebastian says.

“but it makes sense,” she sings. “i’m gonna take a nap. wake me up when they come over to give me an iv like the nurse said earlier.”

“you are so very silly for not hydrating enough,” carlos sighs, readjusting the gel pack on her forehead. he puts another one where her shoulder meets her neck, chuckling when she shakes in a shiver. “glad you’re okay.”

“me too.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife @vellicora @leilanixx @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @love4lando @sadg3 @bborra @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie@gentlyweeps-world@woozarts

[defire]

do you perhaps have any prompts for when the living weapon is rescued and is just… so fucking awkward and doesn’t even notice. like no social cues existent (same), no sense of manners, social etiquette or politeness. they dont really talk unless spoken to first, but when they do speak they have absolutely no filter. this guy could murder everyone in the room but would not survive a high school lunch table

Oh hell yeah this is my cup of tea and my favorite brand.

Living weapon after they are rescued:

["long as I can remember" vibes]

Sorry it took me this long to answer! I was going through some stuff. I wanted to make sure i could give you quality content 👌 accidentally made too many though.

Eating as fast as possible and super messy. Everyone is just trying to talk and slowly stops as whumpee slurps their food down.

"are you ok whumpee?" "Yes, sorry, so sorry, I'm done. What do you need from me?"

Just casually leaning onto the table in a new tank top, and everyone suddenly notices the evenly-spaced scars down each shoulder. Clearly intentional. Everyone looks horrified at whumpee.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I forgot to cover, um," whumpee backing away flushing and covering their shoulders because they think their scars are gross.

Whumpee biting off their nails, picking their nose, other stuff they got used to doing whenever they had a chance because there was rarely any access to basic hygiene.

Or, whumpee coming in scrubbed and smelling like 5 different soaps because even the slightest smell of body odor triggers them

Whumpee sitting down stiffly, then stiffly mimicking others' relaxed posture when they see people staring. "Whumpee, it's ok, you can relax." "I am relaxed, I'm doing the relaxing thing. I've got this leg on the other leg just like you, what am I doing wrong?!" (Panicking that they're not following protocol!)

Right after being rescued, insisting that they're fine, because any touch feels like an attack.

Getting angry/defensive/paranoid when people show concern. They're not familiar with it and don't trust it at all.

Defending their abusers, forced laughter, panic in their eyes. "It was just a few lashes. Technically they were being merciful." "For refusing to kill a child!"

"I don't really have feelings, it's ok."

"Your OWN PEOPLE tortured you?" "No, torture is different, I've been tortured actually, it's not as scary, hah, uh," whumpee's voice falters as they freeze, that familiar sense of dread trickling down their spine as they flash back.

"I'm aware that you are saying you're not going to hurt me, yes. I understand completely. The concept." Whumpee smiles stiffly. "But do you believe me?" Caretaker pushes. Whumpee swallows, still smiling. "If that's what you want me to do."

When they hold their breath as they sit down in a comfortable chair for the first time in years.

This is going to have a pt 2 because it's really long!

[whimsyfinny]

How to Avoid the Love of Your Life

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: (Y/n) had spent the last four years of her life avoiding him, but when her and Dean inevitably cross paths again it could go one of two ways - either really good, or really bad.

Warnings: Language, angst (so much fucking angst I'm sorry), Smut, PinV, Fingering, Oral (F receiving), Overstimulation, Dean being a sex God, reader being anxious, bad breakup, reader having a gun

MDNI! 18+

Word Count: 8200 (wtf I'm sorry I got carried away)

A/N: Here it is! I'm sooooo sorry @jackles010378 that this took so long. I would've had it up last week but my kid got sick and I had to learn how to solo parent hahaha. Anyway, this is the final competition oneshot, and I hope you enjoy it!

“Well well, what do we have here?”

A voice that I knew all too well reached my ears through the crowd of people in the bar. The deep tone of his voice immediately brought goosebumps to my skin and a small smirk to my lips. I straightened where I stood besides the pool table, lowering the cue and leaning on it lazily as I turned to the direction the voice had come from.

“Dean Winchester,” I let my eyes travel over his rugged form; taking in the faint new scars on his face, his weather-beaten jacket and distinctive choice of plaid and denim. He looked virtually the same as he did when I last saw him four years ago - just older. His eyes now holding more haunting memories than any man should ever have to keep locked away in the depths of ones mind.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” I asked with the tilt of my head as he took a step closer, ignoring the bustling of people trying to get past him to order more drinks.

“You know why we’re here,” he pushed his hands into his pockets as he took another step, slowly creeping closer.

“Hmm,” I hummed, reaching for my beer and taking a sip, letting the bitter bubbles sit on my tongue for a moment before swallowing them down.

“So, I take it this has nothing to do with coming for that falsely promised personal visit, and all to do with the pack of werewolves that have moved in across town?” I jabbed the beer bottle in his direction, feeling the smile on my face lose its warmth. Dean sighed and looked at his boots, and when he’d pondered on his answer, ready to verbalise it, I cut him off.

“Jody has been doing her fucking best to keep shit safe around here with the skills you taught her. The least you could do is check in a couple of times a week - visit once a month.”

“Listen sweetheart-”

“I don’t need to hear how you saved the world five hundred times this week. I don’t need to hear it second hand from other hunters. I need to hear it from you. She needs to hear that you’re ok. We all do.”

Dean looked up, his eyes meeting mine, clouded by a regretful shadow.

“(Y/n) I’m sorry. Life has been so fucking messed up and sometimes I don’t even know what fucking month it is. I’ll do better. Me and Sam - we’ll be better.”

I stared at him intently, reassuring myself that he wasn’t saying ‘he’d be better’ if he didn’t mean it. He’d fed me empty lies wrapped in colourful silk in the past and I’d unwrapped every one with a hopeful heart, disappointment following every single one of them. People live and they learn, and I was no exception.

“If you’re not better, for Jodys sake - for Claire and Alex and even Donna - then I will never forgive you.” I stared at Dean long enough to feel the frustration towards him start to simmer in my veins, reminding me why I did what I did all those years ago. I was willing to endure him for my family’s sake despite hating that stupid pedestal they’d put him on - hating how in their eyes, he could do no wrong.

If only they could see him through my eyes.

The sound of long-strided footsteps and a familiar voice exclaiming “oh shit” snapped me from my festering thoughts, and I looked up to see Sam walk up and stand next to Dean.

“Sam!” I smiled, his face the picture of apprehension as he nervously smiled back.

“H-hey (Y/n), it’s been a while. I’m surprised to see you.”

I raised an eyebrow and looked around the room incredulously before locking eyes with him again.

“Surprised to see me? Drinking in a bar, in my hometown? Where you guys know that I live? I know, right? Who would’ve thunk it.”

Sam shifted nervously, like he wanted to whisper something to his brother or simply whisk him away to a booth where they could sip beers, work a case and ogle waitresses. I sighed out a mentally exhausted breath - the presence of the Winchesters flooding my mind with memories of a better time - a simpler time. Dean was right about one thing - that life was messed up.

“Look, I’m clearly keeping you boys from your secret club meeting. I promise to behave if you do too,” I eyed them, waiting for them to accept the proposal of peace. Sam nodded, offering a few lacklustre words of poor convincing whilst Dean just stared at me, his lips twitching into a slight smirk, his eyes swimming in defiance.

“You’ve never been one to behave yourself, have you? Let's see how long this lasts.”

“Fuck you, Dean.”

Sam pulled Dean away before any more weaponised words could be fired, Deans lips forever holding that slap-worthy grin as he eventually turned his back and headed to the other side of the bar.

For the whole evening I could feel eyes on my back and a prickle on my skin. No matter what I did or how much I tried to distract myself - I was so hyper-aware that the Winchesters were sitting at a table just across the room. Every time I turned my back or walked to the bar, I could feel myself scrutinised under an unwanted observation. As I politely turned down the offer of a drink from a handsome stranger, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I reached to answer it, my palms growing sweaty when I saw the name flash on the screen.

“Hey Jody,” I fought to keep my voice steady, my previous frustrations starting to bubble to the surface again.

“Hey (Y/n)! You’re never going to guess who’s in town!”

My teeth immediately clenched and I shot a glare over to where the brothers were sitting, watching Dean tuck his phone back into his pocket and drop his head into his hands.

When I failed to utter a single word at Jody’s excited proclamation, she instantly caught on.

“Oh shit, you know already, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You at the bar?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you spoken to him?”

“I feel like I spoke at him, which counts I guess.”

Despite knowing my inner conflictions, she chuckled slightly.

“You give him a piece of your mind?”

“Yup,” I sighed, running a hand over my face, “I think I’m going to have to keep my distance from him, Jody. Just seeing him - looking at him after all these years - it hurts. It fucking hurts and he doesn’t realise how much he messed me up with everything that he did and said,” I could feel that all too familiar burn in my eyes as I fought desperately against the tears; biting my lip to stop it from trembling. When I gave my emotions away with a not-so-discrete sniff, Jody’s more sympathetic side emerged.

“Aw sweet girl, I know it’s hard. Do you want me to come and get you?”

I shook my head despite knowing she couldn’t see me and wiped away a rogue tear.

“No it’s ok, I think I just need to be alone. Plus I know you - you want to spend some time and catch up with them, which is fine and I get it. It’s just not something I can be there for right now,” I lifted my head and looked through the crowd of people, watching how Sam talked to Dean and Dean fiddled with his beer bottle again. I looked down before he could see me, though I knew he would be able to pick me out of any crowd anywhere within a matter of minutes. I hated that he knew me so well.

“If you’re sure, you know where we are if you need anything.”

“I know, thanks Jody. And… I’m sorry for making this so complicated for you. I know you have no reason to hate him, and I don’t like putting you in the middle like this.”

“(Y/n) I get it sweetheart, you have nothing to apologise for. Just…” she paused, as though debating if her words were worth saying.

“Just what?”

“Just don't do anything stupid,” I could hear the slight amusement in her voice despite her words of caution. I chuckled slightly, wiping away another tear.

“You know me - I can’t make that promise. Bye Jody, see you later.”

After the farewell I hung up the phone, deciding some fresh air would help me to cool my head.

I'd barely taken five steps out the bars entrance and into the parking lot when the harsh sound of rowdy chatter drew my attention. Snapping my head towards it, cold blood filled my veins at the sight in the shadows - the gut wrenching sight of a small group of men huddling together and attempting to steal a car.

To steal Baby.

The cold sensation of dread quickly transformed into the heat of fury as my blood started to boil at the sheer audacity of the thieving group, now doing their best to stay out of the glow of the street lamp. They were lucky it was me that had found them and not Dean, as the latter would have dropped every single one of them by now and not left a soul breathing. I know Dean and I no longer had any sort of relationship, but when we did, this car had been witness to every moment. Baby saw every smile, laugh, and happy tear shared between Dean and I, along with petty lovers quarrels and raw moments of lust filled passion. I'd lost count of how many times we'd steamed up those back windows since we were teenagers and Dean stole the car from his old man for our first date. Then there were the long rides from case to case - Sam and I arguing over who rode shotgun - with Metallica blasting from the speakers, windows rolled down and the wind wisping every worry away as we belted our lungs out. Those were the best moments of my life. In that car. And I'd be damned if I let some dive bar fuckheads steal her.

With zero hesitation I pulled out the gun tucked into my boot and fired three warning shots to the sky before aiming my piece at them, wary that they might also be packing.

“Get away from the FUCKING car - NOW!”

The anger in my voice was a deadly warning as the group turned to me like rabbits in the headlights before turning tail and bolting - one of them dropping a hefty crowbar in the process. As I lowered my gun when they fled, I turned around at the sound of hurried footsteps thumping on the gravel behind me.

“What the hell is going on?” Dean had arrived at my side before Sam and he reached to rest a hand on the small of my back; guided by muscle memory. I turned to face him, a small crowd gathering outside the bar to witness the fleeting commotion. As Sam arrived I explained, my voice harbouring a slight tremble of adrenaline and frustration.

“Some assholes tried to steal Baby-”

“WHAT?!” Deans voice filled with horror, yet his hand remained on my back.

“But you- you're ok right? They didn't hurt you?”

“What? No, I'm fine.”

With my confirmation he withdrew his hand and doubled over, resting his palms on his knees and dropped his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Ugh thank fuck - you scared the shit out of me.”

Sam, who appeared shortly after Dean, patted him on the back and flashed me a split-second grin, the glint lingering in his eyes.

“Yeah, I don't think I've seen Dean move so fast - like… ever.”

I couldn't stop the soft, airy laugh leaving my lungs, a memory flooding my mind.

“I think the fastest I ever saw him move was when we used to hunt with your dad, and Dean took the car without permission. John ended up stranded at that god-awful motel for six hours after we accidentally fell asleep in the layby-”

“Oh god, was that the motel with those raccoons?” Dean stood up straight, the memory seeming to light up his face as he looked me straight in the eye, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin.

“Yes - oh my GOD those raccoons were awful,” I started to chuckle and I could tell Dean was holding it in.

“Raccoons?” Sam asked, looking between us with a raised eyebrow. I opened my mouth to explain but Dean beat me to it.

“In every corner of each room there was a taxidermy raccoon, however the person who taxidermied them obviously had no idea what an actual raccoon looked like.”

“Most of them had eyes that were too close together and their bodies were way too long - like some sort of ferret-raccoon hybrid,” I chimed in, the memory bringing warmth to my chest at the comical idiocy of it all.

“I remember dad turned his so they faced the wall and away from the bed,” Dean let out a small laugh, managing to pull one from Sam as well as we slowly made our way over to the car, my gun returned to the holster in my boot.

“I'm pretty sure that was the first and last thing that ever gave John Winchester genuine heebie jeebies,” I looked up at Sam's disbelieving expression.

“And your brother hid his in the bottom of the closet.”

Dean grimaced before chuckling again.

“They had tiny little ferret-raccoon buttcheeks.”

“Oh god yeah, they were so prominent.”

“So prominent.”

Stepping up to Baby, Dean gave her a thorough once over, running his large hands gently over the places most likely to have laid victim to the crowbar. After three laps and continuous scrutiny, he deemed her unharmed.

We stood together for a moment in silence, the conversation having bled out, leaving nothing but our prior heavy tension and my own dwelling sorrow. I looked up at them both, my gaze lingering on Dean.

“Look, I need to go. I can't- I can't be around you right now, Dean. I'm glad Baby is ok and I…” I sucked in a breath, steadying my voice, “I wish you all the best. Both of you. Stay safe out there.” with my final words I spun on my heel and left.

The motel room was pitch black save for the small box TV flickering in the corner, the original Ghostbusters playing through blown out speakers. I sat in the middle of the couch rocking baggy plaid pj pants and an old band t-shirt (likely Deans, much to my own dismay). With criss-crossed legs and a bowl of popcorn in my lap, I attempted to wallow, Rory Gilmore style, over a man who I would never fully get over. Mine and Deans relationship had ended years ago, yet here I was, the wound still as fresh as the day it was inflicted. Most days I get by, and sometimes even forget the pain he caused me, allowing me to feel light and almost normal. But seeing him in the flesh, catching the scent of him and hearing his voice had turned my defences to ash. I felt exposed and raw, my heart practically on a silver platter ready for another round of being ripped to pieces. I thought I would be able to handle it if I ran into him. I knew deep down in my gut that it would happen eventually, that it was unavoidable given my living arrangements. That he would likely come and visit Jody and the others, and I would have to pretend that everything was ok - that my heart wasn't still breaking over him. I'd avoided him for this long, always able to find the perfect excuse to not be around when he showed up. It was about time the avoidance streak ran it out.

The sound of his laugh earlier this evening had tightened every muscle in my chest, reminding me of every blissful moment we'd spent together - obsessed with each others company and craving nothing else on this fucked up Earth. His smile had made me want to weep, knowing I no longer got to wake up to it every morning or let it be the last thing I witnessed before sleep. The smile that got us both into so much trouble, both as teenagers and adults alike. The smile that always made arguments feel absurd half way through. No matter who I encounter in life or how many people God throws at me in an attempt to fill the void left behind by Dean, it's an incurable hole in my soul that can never be healed.

I shovelled a handful of popcorn into my mouth as I watched the movie unfold - desperate for the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man to reach through the screen and devour me along with my melancholy attitude. Too preoccupied with the film and the strange attraction I seemed to be harbouring to men in boiler suits, I almost missed the low rumble of an engine pull into the motel parking lot outside my room. An all too familiar engine. My ears pricked before reality dawned, the blood draining from my face.

“That son of a bitch.”

I scrambled off the couch and ducked behind it, popcorn flying, knowing all too well that he'd come peering in through the gaps in the blind - which my dumbass had left open so I could watch the rain. Heavy rain and self pity went together like jack and coke after all.

There were a few breaths of silence after the squeak and slam of the impala door, and I thought maybe I'd gotten away with it. Perhaps he was staying in a room further down? Fate was forever against me though when there was a loud knock on the door. I flinched, anxiety dampening my palms as I tucked my knees into my chest and held my breath, praying to Chuck himself that Dean would leave. That he'd convince himself that he was making a reckless decision by being here, or that he had the wrong room. I almost jumped out of my skin when he rapped on the window and his voice boomed through the pattering of rain and static-y TV audio.

“I know you're in there (Y/n), now open the door.”

Even if I'd wanted to move, the ability to do so had fled my body, my muscles petrified at the thought of confronting him. I jumped again when he hammered on the door this time, the cheap wood rattling on its hinges.

“Jesus Christ, (Y/n)! Your truck is parked outside and I can see your hunting gear on the table. Open the fucking door!”

“Go away!”

“Not until you let me speak to you!”

“No!”

There was a loud THUD as his boot collided with the door and I heard him growl in frustration. I could just picture him pacing in a circle, running a hand through his hair.

“(Y/n)-”

“Please, Dean, just… just don't. I can't look at you.” I felt my voice shrink as I pulled my knees tighter to my chest, unsure if he caught my words. He did.

“What- why not?” His voice was a wretched mix of desperation and confusion, cracking between words.

I was quiet for a moment, letting the silence hang thick in the air before I pushed myself to my feet, instantly missing the comfort of the upright foetal position. I wandered over to the door, my fuzzy-socked feet padding on the thread-bare carpet.

“Because,” I leant against the wood, my heart aching at the thought of him being so close yet so devastatingly untouchable, “if I open this door I'm going to undo all the progress I've made with getting over you, Dean.” His name was bittersweet as it slid off my tongue. The quiet sound of Dean sucking in a breath hissed through the gaps in the wood.

“Please, sweetheart. I need you to open this door.”

The softer tone of his voice made him infinitely harder to resist, but I had to stand my ground.

“Dean, you know I can't,” my eyes burned as the tears started to well, my voice objecting to my words with a pitiful rasp.

“Yes you can,” he paused, “you have to, otherwise I'm going to kick this piece of shit down.”

My eyes flew wide.

“No-no Dean-”

“Stand back.”

“Don't!”

“Three…”

“Stop-”

“Two…”

“Dean-”

“One-”

“Fine!”

I grasped the handle and flung the door open, my heart dancing with my stomach when I finally caught sight of him. There he was, soaked through from the rain and giving me that woeful Mr Darcy stare. The water droplets clung to his lashes and trickled down his cheeks, the breathtaking beauty of him erasing the pre-prepared sentence from my mind. Now, all I could think at that moment was to get him warm and dry. The noose around my heart tightened when I reached a hand out to grasp his, pulling him in out of the downpour. As the door closed behind him there was a pause, my quickly dissolving self restraint making it agonising to be in his presence. And Dean seemed to know that, yet he remained.

“(Y/n)-”

“Don’t,” as the cold water started to pool around his boots, I paced over to the bathroom, quickly emerging with a fuzzy towel in hand. I passed it over to him slowly, treating him like a wild, unpredictable animal that could pounce at any moment. He took it gently from my grasp, his fingers softly brushing mine. His skin was cold and damp from the outdoors. We stood in silence for a few moments whilst Dean dried his hair as best as he could, shortly after shrugging off his jacket to hang on the dining chair beside him. As he continued to ruffle his hair dry, I steeled myself, taking a deep breath and crossed my arms over my chest.

“Why are you here, Dean? What do you want?”

He lowered the towel and hung it with his jacket, sighing from the pit of his stomach.

“Me and Sam went to see Jody and the others. I was hoping to run into you again - I wanted to talk to you. But when you didn’t appear, Jody said you’d checked out for a few nights - said you wanted to be away from the house when… uh…” his voice faltered and something akin to guilt flashed in his eyes. Unable to finish his sentence he leant on the table, staring intently at the pile of hunting gear I'd dumped there.

“When you arrived,” I finished it for him, “Yeah, that’s right. And I told  her not to tell you where I was.”

“She didn’t,” he stood up straight again, holding his hands up, “I knew you wouldn’t have gone far, so I drove around until I spotted your truck,” he admitted, gaze flitting down to the floor. More silence followed, the atmosphere thickening as the seconds ticked by.

“Dean,” my voice was small as my anxiety spiked again, the question ready to spill from my mouth though no matter what he said, I knew I wasn’t ready for the answer. “Why are you here? What do you want from me? You say you want to talk, but you’re the one who ended everything. You ended our decades-long relationship out of fucking nowhere. What could there possibly be to talk about anymore. It’s been four years.” My voice trembled and he clenched his teeth, looking away from me before setting his eyes back to the floor. He dragged his gaze back up to mine, and something burned deep in those evergreen irises that took my breath away. Yet he remained silent.

“You crushed me when out of nowhere you said we were over - that we had no future. That you couldn't imagine growing old with me, like we'd always talked about. You have no idea how much you broke my fucking heart, and then you just expected me to live alongside you in the bunker like nothing was wrong? In my own room, far away from you? Why did you think that I would be ok with that?” I felt the familiar drip of hot tears and they flooded down my cheeks and rolled off my chin, the dam I’d fought so hard to contain now bursting wide with vengeance.

“You think I wanted you to leave?” Dean spoke up finally, his voice deep and gravelly, like it always was when he was upset. “You don’t think that telling you that everything was over wasn’t the hardest thing that I’ve ever had to do? That I was happy watching you pack your bags and walk out without so much as a goodbye?”

“You didn’t love me, Dean, so why would you have cared? You obviously didn’t love me the way that I loved you.”

He flinched, but took a step closer. 

“You think this is because I stopped loving you? (Y/n)... it wasn’t safe- you weren’t safe in the bunker. You weren’t safe with me…” his expression turned to one of pain as his brows pinched and his eyes glistened. He took a deep breath. “I thought maybe if you just stayed in the bunker with little to no association with me, then it would be ok. I mean, I'd still get to see you, talk to you. Be in your fucking presence. I never expected you to- to…” he took another deep breath, his lungs almost stuttering. “I didn’t think you would leave.”

He never took his eyes off mine. I saw the years of hurt and heartbreak intertwine with glimmers of green and gold, the emotions I always knew he’d struggled to cope with were swimming in a pool of desperation and fear. On the outside, Dean Winchester was the strongest there was. He was an undefeated and undisputed leader of men. He was the King of hunters. The Alpha. The man who could make you wish you were dead. Yet here he was, wearing every vulnerable emotion on his sleeve as he stood before me with anxious breaths and fearful eyes. The sight made my heart break all over again.

“Dean,” his name was like a quiet prayer as he moved closer again, “I don’t think you understand…”

“Understand what, sweetheart?” the rasp in his voice pebbled goosebumps on my skin, and when he reached for a lock of my hair to twirl around his finger, I had to fight off every instinct to just throw myself into his arms and bury my face in his chest. His familiar scent floated through the air and wrapped itself around my senses, and when I breathed him in the aroma of old leather and gunpowder went straight to my brain like a hit of cocaine. The pleasant hum from my chest was involuntary. 

“I don’t think you understand that… that…” I sighed a woeful breath, looking up at him and seeing nothing but a warm, expectant gaze.

“That I’m still in love with you.”

The finger Dean had looped around my hair froze in place and I heard him suck in a breath, his lips parting. He remained unmoving, as though every thought racing through his mind had taken precedence over his body. It was a moment before he blinked, coming back down to Earth. When he looked down at me, all of the desperation, hurt and heartbreak dissipated from his eyes and in their place was the blazing heat of hope, accentuated by a small upturned twitch of his lips.

“You do?” 

“Yes.”

“You’re not fucking with me?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Before I could react Dean had scooped me into his arms and crashed his mouth onto mine. The urge to push him away and tell him to get the fuck out bubbled up inside me, however when his familiar taste graced my tongue, a taste that was home, every desire for him to leave evaporated. The years of being apart, of being unable to touch him had made every caress electric, no matter how feather-light. My hands had tangled in his shirt as he pressed his mouth harder onto mine, pulling him crushingly close. His embrace was almost suffocating before he gently slid his hands up and threaded his rough fingers through my hair, and I lifted my own hands to do the same. I took my time with the motion, reminding myself of what he felt like - not that the memory of him ever truly left. I remembered how the muscles across his stomach and chest felt hard beneath a soft layer of skin. I remembered the way they quivered at my touch, and how my touch always pulled soft moans from his lips. My hands crept up to take hold of his face, the familiar feeling of his rough stubble beneath my fingertips ever present, a reminder of how that rough stubble felt when it tauntingly brushed against other parts of my body. I cupped his cheeks, feeling my own tears dampen his skin. He kissed me in a way that said I’m sorry, a kiss that held four years of pent up emotions with a desire to be released. A kiss that I knew was designed specifically for me. Our breaths and lips became frantic, the pace in which we were now devouring each other was still not enough to soothe the wounds in our hearts that were so desperate to be healed. Dean pulled away and held my face in his hands, running his rough thumbs over the soft skin under my eyes to wipe away the tears.

“I miss you, so fucking much,” his voice was low, his words for my ears only - not that anyone else was listening.

“I miss you too,” I sniffled, resting my palms on his chest again and relishing in the heat seeping through his shirt.

He leant down and rested his forehead against mine, taking a deep breath with his eyes closed. The atmosphere shifted however when he dipped down lower and pressed a hot kiss to my cheek, then to my ear, and then to my neck - each press of his lips drawing a shiver from my spine. I gasped when he nibbled my pulse point gently and my hands flew to grasp the short strands of hair at the back of his neck, my nails dragging over his scalp. He groaned against me at the sensation, one large hand moving to grip my hair at its roots whilst the other slid to my hip - squeezing the soft flesh. A moan of his name slipped past my lips and it was like a switch was flipped as he pulled away suddenly. He turned to take a few steps across the room, attempting to put some distance between us. I stood, baffled for a moment, but when he turned back to me and his vibrant eyes were now black with lust, I almost knew what he was going to say.

“Do you really want to go there sweetheart? Do you think you’ll be able to handle it?” he started making slow strides back towards me and I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth. 

“Yes,” my voice was more breathy than I’d anticipated.

“No regrets?” he was almost within reach again.

“No regrets.”

When his hands landed on my waist again, his frenzied kisses on my lips, I was expecting to be able to ravage him equally; but when he lifted me and threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing I let out a shocked yelp. 

“Dean!”

He chuckled, the sound low in his chest as he strode over to the bed and threw me down, the impact on the mattress knocking a breath out of me.

“I’ve not been able to fuck you sensless for four years, there ain’t no way I’m going easy on you tonight sweetheart.” I propped myself up on my elbows and watched as he tore his top from his body. I barely got a glimpse of his rugged physique that I’d so terribly missed before he all but pounced, trapping me beneath him. My hands immediately clung to the tight muscles of his back, my nails digging in and drawing a hiss from his clenched teeth before his mouth pressed to my neck right below my ear.

“Do you remember how you used to scream my name?”

I nodded.

“I’m going to make you scream much, much, louder than you ever have before. I’m going to make all past encounters feel like a warm up compared to what I’m gonna do to you tonight.” I shivered at his words as his hot breath fanned over my skin. His hands were fast, desperately tugging on my pyjama pants to slip one inside the soft fabric, not bothering to remove them entirely. There was an urgency to his movements like nothing I’d ever seen, the air leaving my lungs on a gasping moan when his fingers grazed my underwear. He chuckled slightly, pressing a series of searing kisses down my neck to my collar bone. 

“Well, aren't you sensitive? How long has it been, darlin’? Since someone else touched you - since someone else made you cum?” The heat rose to my already flushing cheeks at his words and I tried to cover my face with the back of my hand. My attempts to hide were futile as his long fingers wrapped around my wrist and he pinned my arm above my head. 

“Well?” he pressed, a smirk on his lips.

“Four years,” I all but squeaked. He thought for a moment before his smirk evolved into a widespread grin. “Don't let it go to your head, Winchester,” I did my best to bite out my words yet my voice trembled with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. My head rolled into the quilt and my back arched when he pushed his finger against my clit through my underwear a second time, this time harder, more purposeful. His own breath was shuddering as he continued to plant hot kisses against my skin, the slight dampness from his lips cooling quickly when he pulled back to sit on his knees. My heart didn't know if it wanted to stop dead in my chest or palpitate itself into oblivion when he looked down at me. Dean eminated a dark, primal hunger, glazing his eyes with lust as he gnawed his bottom lip. There wasn't a part of me that he hadn't seen before, and despite my current lack of nakedness it was as if I wasn't wearing anything at all. He made a noise in his chest that seemed to roll up his throat, like a growl of approval as I lay like prey beneath him. Dean may be older now, but he was bigger. Broader. Larger. The years of saving the world and fighting every abomination in his path had forced him to bulk up most exquisitely. With my free hand I traced over the scars adorning his shoulders, chest and abdomen: some old and silver, some newer and pink. There were even a fresh few, still scabbed over, and he shivered at every gentle touch. His gaze, however, was unrelenting. Without uttering a word he yanked my pyjama bottoms from my legs and tossed them into the depths of the room, immediately doing the same with my underwear. Instinctively I attempted to pull my knees together despite him being planted between them and he laughed softly, dragging his dark eyes over my slightly squirming body. He clutched my hand that was touching his chest and pinned it with my other one above my head, leaning down to lift the hem of my t-shirt, to gather above my breasts with his teeth. A shiver tore through me as his hot breath dusted the soft skin of my stomach and ribs, perking my nipples instantly.

“I think your body missed me sweetheart.”

“Definitely not just my body,” I panted. He breathed over my lips for a moment, every possibility of tonight's endeavours flashing before his eyes before he dipped his head to kiss me. His mouth moved slightly slower this time, like he was desperately trying to control the beast inside and make every moment count. To make every moment memorable.

“Do you remember Oasis Plains, Oklahoma? With that fancy house we borrowed?” His voice dropped an octave, eyes hooded as he recalled the memory.

“Yes,” I practically clenched, remembering the late night escapades from all those years ago. In my mind it was like yesterday - the way his lips felt on my skin, how his strong fingers bruised my thighs, and how he brought me to total completion no less than three times. His lips twitched up as he slid down my body and off the edge of the bed to kneel on the floor. He roughly gripped my thighs and threw them over his shoulders before slowly, tantalisingly sliding his hands up the supple flesh to grasp my ass and pull my whole body towards him.

“I’m gonna make you lose your fucking mind, just like you did back then. Maybe I'll even beat that record.”

My eyes could've disappeared inside my skull with how far they rolled back, his mouth's quick descent over my most intimate area - a soft kiss placed just above my clit - had me gasping in anticipation. Without a second to gather my thoughts he pressed his next kiss to that bundle of nerves; the wet heat of his mouth sending a pulse after pulse of fire through my veins as I twitched at his touch. He was an expert. Every flick of his tongue was practised and calculated, knowing which way to swirl, to caress, and how much pressure to apply. It was only a matter of minutes before my hands plunged into his hair and I grasped desperately at the soft strands, feeling that tidal wave build, and build, and build before he daringly grazed his teeth over my clit and it sent the wave crashing down around me, my body arching off the soft mattress as I came undone in his arms at the mercy of his mouth. 

“F-FUCK- Dean-”

My limbs twitched as they relaxed on the come-down, Deans tongue softly tracing up and down my opening. Without pulling away, he spoke in a husky tone:

“Fuck, sweetheart. You have no idea how many times I've reminisced about you moaning my name like that.”

The breath from his words made me shiver, and I moved to prop myself up on my elbows. 

“Ready for round two?” His voice remained low, not waiting for my inevitable confirmation before slowly dipping a finger into my still-clenching walls. The moan that slipped past my lips pulled a groan from Dean, a second finger joining the first as they curled up to push against the soft cushion hidden in the depths of my core. He knew where to find it with zero hesitation - his fingers seemingly acting on muscle memory as he beckoned another orgasm from me. He coaxed it forward, my inner nerves dangerously sensitive as the pleasure began to pool for a second time. With every motion of his finger, again and again, I started to feel the coil twist. I was in two minds on whether to be mortified by how easily he could pull a climax from my very soul, or impressed by it. Either way, he had me teetering on the edge a second time before a single flick of his tongue snapped the coil and euphoria claimed me once more.

His name merged with the endless moans spilling from my mouth, my hazy brain struggling to differentiate the two.

“Shit, you taste so good baby. I could devour you all night.”

“I wouldn't stop you.”

He grinned.

“As much as I would love to indulge you, I need to fuck you. Now.”

He pushed on the backs of my thighs, urging me to centre myself on the bed before he climbed back over me. I could feel myself salivating at the sight of his broad shoulders flexing under his weight, his skin damp with sweat from being trapped beneath my thighs.

He leant down to capture my mouth again, a kiss fueled with raw, carnal desire as he struggled to hold himself back. He shuddered under my fingertips as I trailed them down his torso to his belt, hastily unfastening the buckle and top button of his jeans. It was a joint effort to push them off his hips and down his thighs, but that's as far as they went. The feral need to be inside me had consumed him, and I'd barely withdrawn my hands from between us when he lined up and buried himself to the hilt. 

The burn and stretch was immediate - knocking the air from my lungs as I clutched his solid biceps like a lifeline, my nails indenting his scarred skin. He had the common decency to stay still for around ten seconds before his self restraint diminished yet again and he withdrew slowly. I could feel the divine ridges on his length through the immense build up of my slick and his spit, and as he eased back in he dropped his head into the crook of my neck with a gasp and a groan. A large, rough palm glided down my thigh, goosebumps in its wake as he grasped beneath my knee to rest my leg on his hip. Another moan filled the air between us at the new angle, the top of his cock kissing the soft, sensitive cushion inside. His mouth was hot on my neck as his hips found a rhythm against mine - a rhythm that gradually increased in speed with the intense pleasure unrelenting on my over-sensitive insides. My next impending climax swiftly appearing on the horizon.

“Dean,” I pleaded, my eyes cracking open to look up at him through welling tears, “I'm getting close again-”

He lifted his head, that play-boy grin finding his lips as he saw the mess I'd become at his touch; the mascara-stained tear tracks smudging on my cheeks and the unruly sex-hair was always a good sign of a good time.

“I need you to let go sweetheart - cum for me. Please…”

His words were the cherry on the cake for my undoing yet again and I felt my whole body explode with pleasure and tense up around him. The third orgasm of the night had my vision blurring when he cursed under his breath at my contracting walls, yet he didn't let up. He fucked me through the mind blowing bliss, not letting me catch my breath as a fourth climax hit me out of nowhere, the torturous attack on my g-spot making me feel close to blacking out.

“F-FUCK- Dean- Please- I can't,” my voice was hoarse from the moans and ragged breaths ripping from my throat every other second and my whole body trembled, slick with sweat from both myself and Dean. Despite the death grip I had on Deans cock, every involuntary clench making my knees twitch, he still wasn't finished. His powerful thrusts stuttered slightly before he pulled out, causing me to suck a breath through my teeth. Before I had a chance to query his actions he flipped me with ease, landing me flat on my stomach, my face buried in the soft quilt. Much like before, he didn't wait for an invitation to push back in, the overstimulated nerves in my core sending a jolt through every aching muscle in my body. The deeper angle pulled a cry from my lips when he bottomed out, and if I didn't know any better I would've said that his cock was in my ribcage. Deans large, warm hands took up residence on the supply flesh around my hips, tugging them up so my ass was in the air.

“Shit, (Y/n), with a view like this I'm not gonna last much longer- fuck,” Deans words were strained as he picked up the pace again, albeit this time there was an urgency to his movements. A desperate desire to experience the same Earth shattering euphoria that he had hand delivered to me. With my face in the fabric I snuck a hand down between my legs, finding the pleasure of circling my clit both a relief and an amplifier for the scorching pleasure Dean was inflicting. It didn't take long for him to tear my hand away, only to replace it with his own - pulling noises from my lips that were a whole new calibre of erotic that I didn't know I was capable of. My moans had an effect on Dean, and the hand that was on my hip, that was kneading my soft skin with a bruising grip had shot forwards and planted beside my head, bracing his weight above me. I couldn't see him but I could feel his solid chest against my back, his head dipping down to place rough kisses against my shoulder, his stubble tickling the sensitive skin there. I prepared myself for the bruises I'd find on my body in the morning - his firm hold on me would have been almost painful given any other situation. That's not to forget the biting and sucking he was now subjecting my neck and shoulder blades to - the sensation setting my skin ablaze. Deans strained breaths were a tell for his own impending end, with his hips losing their strong rhythm as he panted out laboriously. The sound of him on the verge of bliss, accompanied by every other agonising ministration performed on my body had me unravelling one last time; one hand fisting the sheets whilst the other reached back, my nails brushing over Deans scalp and toying with his short, soft hair. The fluttering of my channel around his cock was all it took to bring him to his long awaited fervid finish. I trembled beneath him as he groaned into my ear, the sound something primal, something almost unhinged. We remained still for a moment, waiting for the post climax clarity to come along and make us regret our decision. He pulled out slowly, earning a hiss from both of us at the loss of warmth and intimate contact. The simultaneous feeling of emptiness and relief was an odd feeling, as I know full well he’d ruined me for anyone else - no one in Heaven or Hell could compete with that. Not that I wanted them to in the first place. Every nerve ending in my lower region fizzled with overstimulation, yet I couldn't have felt more relaxed; more satiated. For the first time in a very, very, long time, I felt complete. 

Dean grabbed the towel he'd left on the back of the chair and used it to catch the evidence of our intimacy, the wetness cooling quickly on my thighs as I pushed myself to sit on my knees. I turned and looked up at him, watching as he stood beside the bed, eyeing me nervously. I raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on my lips.

“What's wrong? Regretting the whole ‘No Regrets’ thing already?” 

He shook his head.

“Do you?” His voice held a crackle that equaled his nervous expression.

I shook my head. He looked down at his clothes on the floor.

“No, although I'm getting the impression from you that this was a one time thing,” he must've heard the disappointment when I spoke, his eyes flying up to meet mine.

“Why would you say that?”

“Because you're picking your shit off the floor like you're about to leave, that's why.”

“You…want me to stay? I thought-”

“Did I fucking stutter when I said I still love you, Dean? Because I do, and it's all-consuming and to be totally honest, I never want to leave your side again.” Heat bloomed across my cheeks at my sudden proclamation. Deans grip on his clothes slackened, letting it all fall back to the floor. From the look on his face it was like I'd just declared him King of the world; like a light switched on behind his eyes and a smile threatened to spread across his face.

“Yeah?” 

I fiddle with my fingers in my lap, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth.

“Yeah-whoa!”

I didn't get the chance to feel bashful or embarrassed when Dean tackled me onto the bed. At first he peppered my still-damp skin with small kisses that tickled with his stubble, before placing his mouth over mine. I couldn't recall a time that he'd kissed me so softly, and accompanied by the gentle embrace of his arms with his fingers carefully threading through my hair, it was enough to bring me to tears.

“I've missed you so much,” my sniffles brought an almost relieved smile to his features as he pulled back and stroked my hair with overwhelming tenderness.

“I've missed you too, sweetheart.

So fucking much.”

----------------------------

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[navybrat817]

Indulgence

Pairing: Dom!Bucky Barnes x Sub!Female Reader Summary: When Bucky calls, you go to him. Word Count: Over 5.7k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, D/s elements, bondage, aftercare, established arrangement, insecurities, pet names, longing, possessive behavior, world building, mix of canon and non-canon, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I'm very excited for this new AU, lovelies! There's a deep bond between these two, but we know the road to love isn't always easy. ❤️Beta read by the amazing @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. And thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer for listening to me ramble about this part. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You had only been asleep for an hour when your phone went off, your eyes barely open as you reached for the device and saw the familiar name appear. “Bucky?” You answered drowsily.

“Hey, angel,” he said roughly, the pet name bringing a sleepy smile to your face. It sounded like he hadn't gotten much sleep either. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s okay. I have tomorrow off,” you said, a bit more alert as you sat up. “Are you at your apartment?”

“Yeah, I got back a bit ago,” he replied, swearing under his breath. “It’s really late. I just…”

“Need me,” you finished for him, stretching your back as you stood up. If he wanted to tell you he made it home safely from his latest assignment, he would've sent you a text. You knew by now that a call meant he had to see you in person. “Give me a few minutes?”

“You sure? I understand if you’d rather go back to bed.”

“I’m not going to get any sleep until I know you will, too,” you said. It would drive you crazy. “I want to come over. Okay?”

You wondered if the call dropped since you didn't hear anything on the other end. “Okay. I’ll send a car,” he said. He never let you pay for a ride yourself. “Thank you,” he added so softly you almost missed it.

“You don't need to thank me,” you assured him, though you appreciated hearing it. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he promised, your heart skipping a beat before he hung up.

You brushed your teeth again before you changed out of your pajamas. The outfit didn't exactly matter. If it had, he would’ve told you what you wear. It wouldn't stay on long anyway. You sensed that this was a night for him to simply blow off some steam or release anything still pent up from his assignment.

You were more than happy to help.

“On my way.” You messaged him a few minutes later as you went out to the car.

You politely greeted the driver before gazing out the window. If anyone had told you months ago that you’d be sleeping with the former Winter Soldier, you would’ve laughed at them for saying something so crazy. You never expected to meet the man, let alone connect with him. That was your life now though. You were sleeping with Bucky Barnes.

But it wasn't that cut and dry.

“I’ll be outside.” He sent back.

You smiled to yourself as you thought about Bucky, the man searching for himself again. After years of enduring horrific pain and having no control over his actions, he felt lost once he was free. In his eyes, he would never be able to right all the wrongs of the atrocities he was forced to commit, but making amends for his past was a start. It wasn't enough though to heal the cracks from within. It couldn't stop him from plunging into the deep abyss of his mind where it once felt whole.

He had to find a way to feel semi-normal again. He needed to do something good for someone else outside of his heroic duties. And he had to do so in an environment where he could express himself openly, honestly, and authentically with a person he could trust.

That was where you came into the picture.

If Bucky called, no matter what time of day and you were available, you went to his place in a car he paid for. You stayed until you were both satisfied. A more crude way to think of it was that you helped him fuck out his frustrations and gave him a means to inflict pleasure on someone instead of hurt. It was a routine you were used to by now.

“You wanna be my angel?”

You may be his angel, but you weren't his girlfriend. He wasn't in a place to have a typical relationship. You weren't just a fuck buddy either. You were his submissive of sorts, along with his confidant and a way for him to find release and some sense of normalcy.

While he sometimes fucked you like a whore, he never once treated you like one. He cared for your well-being and checked in on you the way a boyfriend would. He kept his place stocked with your favorite snacks. You didn't sleep with anyone else and neither did he. You looked out for each other.

Unlike your last boyfriend.

As far as arrangements went, you could do much worse. There were rules set in place. Bucky was honest about his needs and helped you heal your wounds from the failure of your previous relationship. But the more time you spent with him, the more you wanted to be with him.

Was it a recipe for disaster?

The drive seemed faster than usual because before you knew it the car stopped in front of Bucky’s apartment building. Your pulse quickened when you saw the brunette standing by the door, donned in his usual leather jacket. Even from a short distance, he looked massive and heat bloomed in your core as you knew what was to come. He moved to the curb with more grace than a man his size should have, his hard blue eyes set on you through the glass before he opened the door.

His gaze practically set your heart on fire and it went full ablaze when he tenderly smiled. He was stunningly beautiful even in the dark of night. It almost hurt to look back at him.

You had it bad.

“Hey,” he said, offering you his gloved hand to help you out. You hardly ever saw him out without his vibranium hand covered. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hey,” you smiled softly, giving the driver a quick thanks before you got out. “You, too.”

Bucky's large hand moved to the small of your back as he gently led you toward the building and opened the door. He didn't like to linger outside for too long. Neither of you spoke as he guided you to his apartment on the first floor and you didn't push him to make small talk. It was a delicate arrangement and some nights didn't call for filler.

Still, you tried to get a read on his emotions. There was a stiffness to his stance, but he didn't appear upset or angry. You also didn’t spot any obvious injuries.

“Were you hurt?” You asked as he took his keys out. He was only gone for a couple of days, but you knew how dangerous the missions were.

He turned and stared at you, not at all surprised by your question since you always asked. “No, I didn’t get hurt,” he assured you, reaching up to scratch at the stubble on his chin. “But I can't exactly talk about it either. I’m sorry.”

You nodded in understanding. It was information you weren't privy to and you doubted he called tonight to talk about it anyway. He peeled back layers of himself, yet there was so much underneath that you didn't know about. You cared for him regardless.

“Bucky, you don't have to apologize for that,” you reminded him.

“I just feel bad. You can tell me about your work, but I can't always talk about mine,” he said, looking both ways before he poked his head into his apartment.

“My job isn’t as ‘exciting’ as yours,” you teased before he let you in.

Bucky had a nice place. The partially exposed brick walls paired well with the hardwood floors. Tasteful, but not extravagant. The thick curtains in the living room matched the drapes in his bedroom. Since he occasionally slept on the floor by the oversized chair, it helped to block out the sun. He didn't have much as far as decor, but he did have a piece of art that his best friend, Steve, drew hung up in the hall.

He also had a bowl that you made on the console to hold his keys, which he promptly set them in.

It meant something that he even let you into his apartment when others close to him had never been invited.

“Need anything to drink?” He asked, slipping his jacket and glove off.

He had an empty glass waiting on the kitchen island in case you did. While you indulged in a drink now and then, he wouldn't allow you to have too many. He refused to have sex with you if you were inebriated. Said it took consent away and you wouldn't be alert enough to use a safeword if necessary.

He wouldn't budge on that rule.

“No, thanks,” you answered, gazing at him.

His T-shirt strained against his biceps, one flesh and one vibranium. You could still smell his cologne from the small distance across the room, amber and cedarwood. Warm, comforting, dominating. All the things he was to you.

Not the monster he sometimes believed himself to be.

You eyed him as he poured himself a shot of whiskey, the need to soothe him coming forward when you caught a distant look in his eyes. He didn't even make a move to down his drink as he set his hands on the counter and stared off. Maybe he couldn't give you the details about what happened, but you could take care of him.

Because as much as he sometimes had to have control over you, both of you had power in your relationship.

“Bucky?” You gently called out, pulling him from his trance. “You can talk to me, even if you have to keep some things to yourself.”

His shoulders dropped as he sighed. “Three months.”

“I'm sorry?”

“Three months since we started this,” he answered.

You realized he was right when you remembered the date. It felt longer yet still brand new. “Yeah. Three great months,” you smiled.

A knot formed in your stomach when he didn't smile back. “And you still feel safe with me?” He asked, gripping the counter so hard you thought it might crumble in his hands. “You really trust that I won’t hurt you?”

Your smile slipped, the questions like a punch to the gut as you walked toward him. You stopped a foot in front of him to give him some breathing room as he made eye contact. Where had that come from? What happened to make him question that?

“Of course, I feel safe. Not only do I feel safe with you and trust you, I know that you won't hurt me. You will always take care of me,” you said with fierce determination, yet with a vulnerability you couldn't hide. “If I didn't believe that, I wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t submit to you.”

You told him the same thing the day you two agreed on this arrangement. He wasn't your boyfriend, but he wasn't like your ex. He wouldn't just throw you away without a second thought or ignore your needs. You also had faith in him that he wouldn't harm you.

And as much as you trusted him, he trusted you that much more. If he didn't, he wouldn't have called you in the first place. That meant he still trusted himself around you.

He looked away and asked above a whisper, “Do you still think I'm a good man?”

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation, your heart aching when his jaw clenched. “Bucky, look at me, please.”

He slowly made eye contact with you, a storm swirling in his stare.

“You are a good man,” you stated, needing to reach the part of him that believed it. “And it doesn't matter how many times you ask me that, my answer isn't going to change. Ever.”

Bucky was silent, his breathing the only sound in the space. You were worried that you said the wrong thing before he pushed himself away from the counter. Instead of moving back when he approached, you stood firm, ready to brace the storm. You sometimes felt like a mouse confronted by a lion when he got close, but it sent a thrill through you. Because you meant what you said.

You trusted him and he made you feel safe.

“I just had to hear you say it,” he whispered as he cupped your face.

A fire lit within you as Bucky captured your mouth with his. There was care and tenderness beneath the hunger and you found yourself clinging to his arms as you kissed him back. No one before him had ever kissed you with such desire, such passion. It had you chasing his lips when he pulled away too soon.

“Now go to my room, get undressed, and kneel on the bed facing the headboard,” he ordered, his voice low and allowing the words to sink in just in case you had any objections. Because he was done talking and ready to play.

So were you.

It took you a moment to answer since you had to bite back a whine. “Yes, Sir,” you whispered, feeling his eyes on you as you walked to his bedroom.

You focused on keeping your breathing even as you shed your clothes, taking a moment to fold them before you set them on the chair in the corner. The only time you left your garments on the floor was if Bucky put them there or had you put on a show for him. It was his space and you respected it.

He hadn't told you how long to wait for him, but your heart thumped as you knelt on the queen sized bed. You didn’t see any toys as you glanced around, but there was water, snacks, wipes, and the soft blanket you loved waiting on the nightstand. It took a moment for you to spot that there was a blindfold and scarf on top of the blanket. Your womb clenched in anticipation, an exquisite feeling knowing your patience and obedience would reward you.

Bucky walked through the door a minute later and shut it behind him. The energy shifted completely, both of you ready for each other. As much as you wanted to lift your gaze and look behind you, you kept your eyes downcast as he approached the bed. He cupped your cheek once he was close enough and forced your eyes to meet his.

“My beautiful angel,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along your skin as you glowed from the praise. He reached for the scarf and ran his fingers across the silk as he glanced at you. “As much as I hate to cover those beautiful eyes of yours and restrain you, I want you to concentrate on my touch tonight. Just let me have you.”

A shiver rolled down your spine as you nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Hands behind your back,” he said, moving to secure them once you did so. The silk was soft against your skin, almost as soft as the kiss to your shoulder. After years of being restrained, you knew he felt guilty at times taking your control away. The difference was you gave yourself to him willingly. “Tell me your safewords.”

“Green is good. Yellow to pause,” you stated, testing the scarf. He never bound you too tight, but it was enough that you couldn’t slip your wrists free. “Red to stop."

“Good girl,” he praised, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You turned your head a fraction so he could slot his lips properly over yours. Gentle, yet hot enough to melt your insides. “My good girl.”

He maneuvered you so you were in the middle of the bed and spread your knees a bit further apart. He joined you on his knees, still fully clothed. Casting your gaze down again, you bit your lip when you saw the prominent bulge in his pants. A hand came up to grasp your chin before you could stare for too long and lifted your head. If you were still wearing your panties, they would’ve dampened from his darkened gaze.

“So beautiful and all mine tonight,” he said.

“I’m yours, Sir,” you whispered, the word “always” unspoken.

“And I know you were staring,” he smirked, his fingers working the button and zipper of his jeans. His impressive cock sprang free once he pushed his underwear and pants down far enough and you wished you could lean down and swirl your tongue around the large head. “Greedy angel. Just desperate to have my cock in you.”

“Yes, Sir. Please,” you begged.

He made a show of lifting the blindfold before he slipped it over your head, your body tensing up when your world went dark. Sight was one of the senses you relied on the most. It helped you absorb most of the world around you. And now it was temporarily gone. It felt like your heart would burst from your chest as you breathed a bit heavier. But Bucky was there, softly touching your face until you relaxed.

“Breathe, angel. I’ve got you,” he whispered, drawing a gasp from you when his lips touched yours. His hands mapped your body, brushing along your breasts down to your thighs. You felt him everywhere. “Color?”

“Green,” you whispered as a hand moved around your back and forced you to arch. He was careful not to hurt your arms. “Please.”

Your head fell back with a moan as his lips closed around your nipple. You could practically feel that he looked up at you as he gently suckled. A wave of arousal crashed through you as he pinched the other. No one had ever lavished your body with such attention the way Bucky did.

“I love seeing you like this,” he murmured against the swell of your breast. “Helpless. Trembling. Needy.”

You didn't mean to let such a wanton moan escape, but he made you feel needed. He made you feel wanted. It was a beautiful thing to surrender to him.

“And I love that I'm the one you trust to take care of you.”

“I trust you with my life, Sir,” you moaned.

And your heart, even though he had the power to break it.

Your chest suddenly felt colder when Bucky pulled his mouth and hand away and you shook from the loss of his heat. His vibranium hand touched your torso to remind you he was close when he shifted closer to you on the bed. You gasped when he dragged his hand down and you were helpless to do anything but feel when it slid between your legs.

“You're doing so well for me,” he said, his teeth grazing your neck as his fingers spread your sopping folds. He teased you, letting you soak his metal fingers as you mewled. He lightly bit you again when he replaced his fingers with his cock, sliding along your slit, but not pushing inside you just yet. “You want me inside you? You need me to fuck you, don't you? Tell me.”

Your cheeks flamed as you whined. “I need you to fuck me, Sir,” you said, trying to widen your thighs to take him in more.

“I will. I'm going to give you everything you need,” he rumbled, gripping your hips with strong and capable hands to keep you still. “And you’re going to let me ruin your pretty little pussy with my cock.”

You panted with want at his possessiveness. Filthy words were something you never thought you’d hear from someone associated with The Avengers and they kicked your body into overdrive. You ached to have him split you open. “Ruin me, Sir.”

In one swift move he lifted you, pulled you into his lap, and buried himself to the hilt. Your mouth fell open as you let out a cry, every inch of his cock stretching and making itself at home in your welcoming cunt. You couldn't brace yourself on his shoulders with your hands behind your back. You couldn't see the ecstasy in his eyes as he let you adjust to his size, but you didn't have to. Not with the way he dug his fingers in and groaned against your shoulder.

He took you to heaven when he was inside you.

“Color,” he said against your skin, thrusting his hips up once.

“Green,” you moaned, reminding yourself to stay still when you wanted him to move. “So green.”

“Good girl,” he whispered, gently kissing up to your ear. “Keep being good while I bounce you up and down on my cock.”

Your eyes fluttered behind the blindfold as he pulled you up and slammed you back down on his cock. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and your heart beat frantically in your chest. It was difficult to string thoughts together, but they all went back to him and how good he made you feel. How he made you feel beautiful.

Flaws and all.

“It’s like your cunt was made for me, angel. Practically crying all over my cock,” his voice was smoky as sounds of pleasure tumbling from your lips. The next moan was softer when he slid a hand up to your neck, resting it there as the other kept your hips flush against his. “You deserve to feel good because you are good. So fucking good.”

Your lower lip trembled as a sob worked its way to your throat, “Thank you, Sir,” you whimpered before he squeezed.

“And I. Deserve. You.” He punctuated each word with a deep thrust. You didn’t have to see his face to know the fury that surfaced. “My angel. Mine.”

It overwhelmed you as he bounced you in his lap, sinking you down onto him again and again. His thrusts were almost unforgiving, but the hand on your throat didn’t tighten anymore. He couldn’t hurt you. He wouldn’t hurt you.

“I’m your angel, Sir,” you moaned as he reduced you to a needy wet mess.

“I wanna tear you apart,” he growled against your lips. “And put you back together so you still feel me when you fucking breathe.”

“Tear me apart, Sir,” you gasped, a plea for him to use you more. Your thighs hit his as he thrust up and all you could do was take it. He touched places inside you no one else could reach, physically and emotionally, and you never wanted it to stop. “Please!”

“Tell me you need me to come inside you and I’ll let you come,” he ordered, the hand on your neck squeezing a fraction. “Say it.”

“Come inside me, Sir,” you begged.

“Bucky,” he breathed against your lips. “Say. My. Name.”

Your next breath was shaky. He always had you call him “Sir” on nights like this. Why was this different?

Your orgasm began to crest, but you couldn’t let go until you gave him what he wanted. And he’d give you what you needed. “Come inside me, Bucky,” you exhaled. “Please.”

He swiped his thumb along your pulse with a deep groan, his cock still driving up into you. “I will after you come,” he promised, his tongue sliding past your parted lips and pulling away all too quickly. “C’mon, angel. Come for me. Show me you’re mine.”

The sob you tampered down earlier resuraced, wrenched from your throat as you came. Your release continued, practically leaking around his cock as tears slid out beneath the blindfold. You were beyond rational thought as pleasure spiraled through you, vaguely aware that he thrust through it to chase his own end.

“Good. Fucking. Girl.” He grunted, pulsing hotly inside you as he filled you up.

Both of you panted as you continued to drift from euphoria, your heart still beating wildly. You were warm, but your body shivered as he lifted you up. Your combined release slid from your aching cunt once he slipped free. You floated and wanted him to catch you, but you couldn’t put your arms around him.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered when you let out a whimper. He made quick work of untying your wrists so he could lay you down properly and wipe away the tears still on your cheeks. “I’m going to take the blindfold off.”

Your eyes stayed shut for a moment when Bucky removed it, but you cracked them open when you wanted to see him. Your vision slowly cleared as you blinked a few times, your mind still floating as he came into view. He called you an angel, but he was the one who had a halo around his head at the moment. A gorgeous angel who had unrightfully had his wings taken away. He smiled like he wanted to eat you alive, but his touch was nothing short of tender when he brought his hand to your face.

“So fucking beautiful. You did so well for me. Fuck, I just wanna clean you with my tongue and fill you up all over again,” he praised as you clenched around nothing and whined. As hot as it sounded, you needed a bit of rest after that. “Not tonight,” he smiled, keeping a hand on you as he grabbed a wipe.

A reason he had everything close by was because you craved his touch after sex. If he ever got too far away, you whimpered and reached for him. It made you feel needy, but he assured you that he needed to keep touching you just as badly.

It just wasn’t fair that he looked so composed.

Bucky continued to shower you with soft praise as he cleaned you up. It didn’t take him long before he wrapped the soft blanket around you, trembles moved through your entire body as he put his arms around you, too. He took aftercare very seriously. It was a way for you to feel cared for and nurtured while allowing your body and brain to return back to normal. He never wanted you to experience negativity or sadness after any sort of session, especially an intense one.

You were aware that he moved you closer in his arms and rested his cheek against the top of your head, but you weren't ready to speak yet. It always took you a minute to come back to yourself and he was never one to rush or push you. If relaxing in his embrace was what it took to return to the world, he was more than content to keep you in his arms.

At least, that was what he told you.

You opened your eyes after a few minutes. Your heartbeat was back to a steady rhythm, but you still weren't ready to move yet. You were warm and safe. Bucky was there to take care of you. But what about him?

Had you taken care of him?

Bucky had a faint smile on his face when you lifted your head, his shoulders relaxed and eyes soft. Like he was at ease with everything around him. “Welcome back, angel,” he whispered, peppering your face with light kisses.

“Hey,” you smiled tiredly, your voice a little hoarse as you brought a hand to his hair, happy that you could touch him again. Judging by the way his eyes slipped shut for a moment before he opened them, he missed your touch, too.

“You okay?”

“I am and so are you. You're okay.” It wasn't a question. Whatever haunted him earlier was gone.

For now.

He didn't tear his gaze away as he reached for the water behind him, which you gratefully accepted as he put it to your lips. “You amaze me, you know? You just came back to yourself, but you're talking about me being okay.”

“Isn’t that why you call me?” You asked with a small frown, taking another large sip. “To help you?”

His brows furrowed. “It’s not just about me. This is about you, too.”

You took one more drink before you could say something stupid. Yes, this was about you, too. How he didn't push too far. How he’d hold you after sex and talk with you because those things were important to you. How he made you feel cherished and wanted for a short while.

You just didn't want to admit that he was a constant in your mind. But would it be so wrong if you did? Even if he’d never date you, didn't he have a right to know how you felt?

Communication was key and you would have to eventually tell him if those feelings persisted.

“It’s about both of us and I just want you to be okay,” is what you said because it was the truth.

He set the water aside and cupped your cheek, his calloused hand a little cool, but nice. You almost wished you could hide from his knowing eyes, but he didn’t press you for more. “I am now,” he said, swallowing a little. “I just couldn't let you see me tonight.”

Worry filled his eyes like he may have upset you, but you shook your head. You had seen his scars, but he was never obligated to show you his body. “You're letting me see you now,” you said, scooting closer as he brought your wrist to his mouth to kiss it.

You thought about how the evening played out. How he asked if you thought he was a good man. How he demanded that you speak his name. And how he said he deserved you. Either something happened while he was gone or someone said or did something to get to him. You wished you knew what it was since he didn’t expand on what had been eating away at him before.

“And before you ask, you didn't hurt me,” you told him, knowing the question was coming. You appreciated that he cared enough to check.

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Good because I’d never stop hating myself if I did,” he admitted, looking at the ceiling for a moment. “You don't deserve that kind of pain.”

Your heart swelled, not letting any past hurt enter your mind. He made you believe that you deserved better than what you had. It was a good feeling.

“Neither do you. And that's a reason why safewords exist. Both of us can use them,” you reminded him. Like aftercare, he took the words seriously. He listened to you. And if he ever got overwhelmed, he had every right to stop it the same way you did. “So no self-hate tonight.”

He huffed in mock annoyance. “Yes, ma’am. And speaking of self-hate,” he teased, tilting his head to look your way. “I really don’t want to go to therapy tomorrow.”

There was a forced calmness in his blue eyes as you assessed him. “You still don’t like your therapist,” you stated.

One of the conditions of his pardon was that he had to go to therapy. It was meant to help him process his thoughts and past experiences in order to work through them. Though he didn’t tell you what went on in his sessions as it was none of your business, he didn’t keep it a secret from you that the doctor was far from his favorite person.

You wondered if Bucky told her about you.

“What’s there to like?” He asked.

You smiled a little, knowing better than to poke the bear and say she probably wasn't that bad. “Well, being able to speak to someone who provides non-judgemental and empathetic support is one thing.”

“That’s why I like talking to you,” he said, the affection in his voice making your heart skip a beat.

“Oh,” you said, not sure what else to say.

Moments like that made you think he cared. No, that wasn’t right. You knew he cared about you. But hearing things like that made you feel like there was hope for more and he wasn’t ready for that.

Hope was both a wonderful and dangerous thing.

“Have you met anyone else?” He asked suddenly, moving his hand to your back.

It was a question Bucky asked every time he had you over. He said from the start if there was another man in your life that you’d rather be with, someone who could offer you more, he’d step aside. There wasn't anyone else. You didn't want anyone else.

And while it was admirable that he would walk away if that ever changed, your heart ached at the thought that he’d easily let you go. Because at the end of the day he wasn't ready for a relationship. Not yet.

Even if he was, who said he wanted one with you?

“No, I haven't met anyone,” you said, feeling the warm breath of his exhale against your skin as his hand moved up and down your back. It relaxed you more and you found yourself fighting a yawn. “Have you?”

“No,” he chuckled. The crinkles by his eyes made him look carefree. “Not since you saved me.”

You shut your eyes, afraid that tears would well up if you looked at him. “I didn't save you. All I did was buy you a coffee one afternoon,” you whispered dismissively.

That day changed your life.

“I’m going to let that slide since you're sleepy, but I’m going to remind you when you're wide awake that you did a lot more than that,” he spoke. He held you a little tighter when you stayed quiet. You were more tired than you thought. “Get some sleep, angel. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You let your eyes shut at his command. “Thank you for taking care of me, Bucky.”

“Thank you for taking a chance on me.”

There was something else unspoken in the air, but a tender kiss to your forehead stopped you from reading too deeply into it.

In the morning, he’d send you back to your place after he made you breakfast. He’d text you later to make sure you were okay. He would continue to check in and you would do your best not to fall for him more. Because one day he wouldn't need you anymore. You didn't know when that day would come, but tonight you could indulge in the fantasy that Bucky wanted you to be his girl.

Permanently.

I just want these two happy and together. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[mariasont]

Bumper to Bumper - A.H

a/n: this is so self-indulgent i am probably the worst fucking parker you've ever seen it's wild & i also just watched a vid of mgg parking someone's car and went feral so there's that

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader (i don't think there is any use of pronouns just nicknames like honey)

warnings: none? rough day, reader is beefing with parking, tooth-rotting fluff

wc: 800

"Hotchner," came his voice, rough like sandpaper across the line, as you fought back the swell of tears, your lower lip caught in the anxious trap of your teeth.

Your eyes fixed on the parking spot before you, the very sight of it forming a lump in your throat as your frustration mounted. The morning had unfolded like a series of unfortunate events--your coffee machine had sputtered its last, your favorite book left forgotten on the porch to be ruined by the rain, and now, this parking spot seemed to mock you, its yellow lines almost pulsating with contempt. 

Your hand glided across your dampened cheek, exhaling a shaky breath as you juggled the phone between your ear and shoulder. "You know, I don't think I've said this enough, but you're an exceptional boss. Honestly, you're—"

You sensed the sigh in his breath before he spoke. "What do you need?"

"I know I'm late," you managed to get out, a small hiccup halting your sentence as you did everything in your power to avoid crying, but the waver in your voice gave you away. "But I have a good reason--"

Once more, he stopped you mid-sentence, as he often did. "Where are you? Is everything okay?"  

"I'm fine, it's silly."

"If something's wrong, I want to hear it. What's happening?"

"I just... I can't seem to park my car," you choke out, cheeks aflame with mortification. "I've been trying and failing, over and over, it's embarrassing. The spot's too tight, and of course, it's the only one left because 'M late."

"Hold on, I'll be right there," he said, and the line went dead.

You were left staring at your phone, a fresh wave of embarrassment washing over you. You cringed, feeling smaller with each passing second, knowing he was swamped with work and here you were, unable to perform the simplest task of parking a car.

The moment you saw him step out of the building, your racing heart began to slow, his presence alone easing the knot of anxiety in your chest. He approached and opened the driver's door, and you were suddenly spilling over with apologies, the traces of tears still evident on your cheeks.

He looked at you with a gentleness that melted away the last of your defenses, reassuring you with a simple. "It's okay. I got it."

He took your place behind the wheel and parked the car with ease. As you stood there, you realized how his unwavering steadiness had become a pillar you leaned on more often than you'd like to admit. 

As he stepped out of the car, you approached, your voice barely above a whisper, "Thank you, and I'm sorry. I know it's such a small thing..."

He gave a slight sigh, one that seemed to brush away your concerns, a hint of a smile in his eyes and said, "There's nothing to apologize for. Don't be so hard on yourself," he reminded you gently, his hand coming to rest on the soft of your shoulder. 

A silent nod was all you could muster as you lifted your gaze to meet his. Your eyes were still red-rimmed from crying, and your nose, slightly pink from the number of tissues you had abused this morning. In a soft plea, you murmured, "Can I have a hug?"

Without a word, he simple open his arms, an unspoken invitation that you immediately accepted. As you nestled into his arms, your body relaxing as you inhaled his familiar scent. A soft sniffle escaped you as Hotch quietly said, "Five senses..."

You closed your eyes and focused on the sensory details--the comforting touch, his reassuring voice, the sight of his concerned gaze when you opened your eyes, the taste of the air mingled with his cologne, and the grounding scent of him. As your breathing evened out, he gently placed his hand on the pulse point at your neck, counting your heart rate in his mind. 

You stepped back, a sheepish grin spreading across your face. "I suppose driving school is next on my training agenda?"

Hotch's expression softened into a subtle smile. "I'd agree, considering I just got you that car, I'd prefer it if you got the chance to enjoy it first before crashing it," he teased back lightly. "You sure you're okay?" he asked, his eyes searching yours.

"Promise."

Hotch glanced at his watch, a decision forming in his eyes. "I think I can free up some time later. How about we get you another copy of your book?"

As your smile broke through the clouds of your frustration, it was as if the sun had pierced through the overcast sky of his day, bathing him in a light he never wanted to leave. "Really?" you responded, practically glowing with delight.

Hotch's heart swelled at the sight, feeling lighter than he had in ages. Gently, he cupped your face, drawing you closer to plant a tender kiss on your forehead. "I love you, honey," he said, his voice a low rumble.

You giggled, a little surprised by the public display of affection, you blushed, responding with a shy, "Love you too."

[inkspiredwriting]

The Diner of Destiny - Part 2

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: Okay, some of you wanted a second part. So I thought why not? I've never written a second part to any of my stories, so I'm not so sure if the second part is any good.

Warnings: spoilers for season 4 episode 5-6, angst

Five wandered through the fractured remains of countless timelines, driven by a singular purpose: to find y/n, the woman he had unwittingly erased from existence. He had become a phantom, slipping between realities like a shadow, his resolve hardening with each failed attempt. Every timeline, every world was a dead end, a cruel reminder of the life he had obliterated with one careless choice. But giving up was never an option. He had to find her.

Weeks blurred into months as he tirelessly pursued the faintest hints of her existence. Fragmented memories, distorted whispers, and fleeting visions of a woman whose face he had never truly known. Each clue led him deeper into the labyrinth of time, and each step weighed heavier on his conscience. He was close—he could feel it.

Finally, one day, in a timeline that felt strangely still, as though it had been waiting for his arrival, Five found her.

She was sitting in a small, secluded garden, surrounded by overgrown ivy and vibrant flowers. The sun cast a warm, golden light over the scene, but there was an air of melancholy that clung to the place, as if it remembered the things that had been lost. Y/n was there, her back to him, her head bowed as she absentmindedly traced patterns in the dirt with a stick. She looked almost like a statue—beautiful, but untouchable, frozen in a moment that he had shattered.

Five approached her cautiously, his heart pounding in his chest. His footsteps crunched softly on the gravel path, and y/n looked up, startled. Her eyes met his, and for a brief, agonizing moment, it was as though she recognized him. But then the flicker of familiarity vanished, replaced by confusion.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice tinged with wariness but not fear. There was a gentleness in her tone that cut Five deeper than any anger could have.

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, and for the first time in a long time, he hesitated. How could he explain the unimaginable? How could he make her understand what he had done?

“My name is Five,” he began, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m not sure how to say this, but… you were supposed to be someone important to me. To all of us, actually. But I made a mistake, a terrible mistake, and I… I lost you.”

Y/n’s brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of his words. “Lost me? I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. We’ve never met before. How could you have lost me?”

Five’s chest tightened with the weight of his guilt. “You’re right. We’ve never met. But we should have. I was supposed to find you, fall in love with you. You were supposed to be my anchor, the person who kept me—and all the other versions of me—grounded across the timelines. But instead, I got involved with someone else, someone named Lila.”

At the mention of Lila’s name, Y/n’s expression softened, but only slightly. “Lila?” she echoed, the name unfamiliar and distant.

Five nodded, his voice trembling. “Yes. I thought I was making the right choice at the time, but it was the wrong one. Choosing Lila… it erased you from our lives. You were supposed to be there, and because of me, you weren’t. I took away your life, your future, and I didn’t even know it until it was too late.”

Y/n stared at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of deception or malice. But all she saw was a man haunted by his mistakes, a man who had come to her not for forgiveness, but for something even more elusive.

“What do you want from me?” she asked quietly, her voice laced with a sorrow she didn’t fully understand.

Five closed his eyes for a moment, gathering the strength to continue. “I don’t know if I can make things right, but I had to find you. I had to tell you what happened, even if it doesn’t change anything. I’m sorry, y/n. I’m sorry for what I took from you, for what I took from all of us. I just… I wanted you to know that you mattered. That you were supposed to matter.”

Y/n looked down at the ground, her hand still clutching the stick. She was silent for a long time, and Five feared that his words had only hurt her more, that there was nothing left to say. But then, she spoke, her voice soft and distant.

“Do you really believe we could have been happy?” she asked, almost to herself.

Five’s heart ached at the question, at the lost possibility of what could have been. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “But I would have liked to find out.”

Y/n nodded, her expression unreadable. “I can’t remember you,” she said softly. “But something in me feels… something. Maybe it’s just the idea of what could have been. Or maybe… maybe there’s something more.”

Five watched her, his breath catching in his throat. This was it—the moment that could change everything. But even as hope flickered within him, he knew the truth. He had come too late. The damage was done, and there was no going back.

“I wish I could change what happened,” he whispered. “But all I can do is tell you the truth. You deserved so much more than what I left you with.”

Y/n looked at him, her eyes filled with a sadness that went beyond words. “Maybe we were never meant to be,” she said quietly. “Maybe… maybe this was always how it was supposed to end.”

Five shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. “No. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. But it’s what I’ve made it. And for that, I’m sorry.”

Y/n stood slowly, the stick falling from her hand as she faced him fully. “I don’t know if I can forgive you,” she said, her voice trembling. “But I appreciate that you tried to make things right. Even if it’s too late.”

Five nodded, the tears finally spilling over as he met her gaze. “I’ll never stop trying to make it right,” he vowed. “Even if I never see you again, I’ll keep looking for a way to fix this.”

Y/n gave him a small, sad smile, the kind of smile that spoke of acceptance and resignation. “Goodbye, Five,” she said softly. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

And with that, she turned and walked away, her figure growing smaller and smaller until she disappeared into the distance. Five stood there, alone in the garden, the weight of his actions pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He had found her, but he had also lost her—again.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the garden in a blanket of twilight, Five knew that this was his burden to bear. He had made a choice, and now he would live with the consequences for the rest of his existence. The woman who was supposed to be his anchor, his salvation, was gone, and he was the one who had pushed her away.

And so, with a heavy heart and a mind full of regrets, Five turned and walked back into the shadows, disappearing from the world that could have been his. The timelines would go on, fractured and unstable, and he would continue his endless search for redemption. But deep down, he knew the truth—some things could never be undone. And some losses were meant to be permanent.

The garden, now empty and silent, bore witness to a moment that had passed, a possibility that had slipped through time’s fingers. And as the stars began to twinkle in the darkening sky, Five’s silhouette faded into the night, carrying with him the memory of what could have been, and the sorrow of what never was.

[redflagshipwriter]

Check Yes (to go on a date with a dead guy) chapter 5 progress

“Hey!” Duke hollered, as soon as Jason put the key in his door. “Welcome back, loser!”

Danny huffed out a laugh. 

“Hey yourself,” Jason called out, holding the door open and making sure Danny got in before he closed it behind them. “Scruffy little brother, this is Danny. Danny, this is Duke.” 

“Wait, what?” Duke skidded into the room on socked feet, eyes wide and mouth grinning in confused delight. “I didn't know you had any friends!” 

“Oh, we're not friends,” Danny reassured him easily, missing Jason's scowl. “Just dating. So there's still no proof that he has friends.” He winked obnoxiously. 

Jason could see the moment Duke shut down and rebooted twice as excited. 

Christ. He quietly cursed to himself and ducked his head to hide the burning in his cheeks as Danny bounced over to hold his hand out. He was never beating the allegations of favoritism after this, Jason sighed. 

Danny was a little sun spot when he chirped, “Nice to meet you, I hear you're the generous distributor of games?”

“Yeah, that request makes sooo much more sense now.” Duke met Danny's hand with a friendly slap and then went in for a hug. Jason cringed at the familiarity- but apparently it was the right move. Danny went for it, backslapping Duke amiably. They separated. Danny thoughtfully held Duke at a distance, hands on his shoulders. 

“I see. So, you're my true opponent?” At Duke's nod, Danny smiled with a few too many teeth. He leaned in to hold intense eye contact. “Gonna kick your ass,” Danny vowed. 

“You can try, old man,” Duke shot back. They separated with grins. “I’ll set up. Jason, your taste is so much better than I thought it would be.”

Jason made an offended noise. “Wait, what?” 

Duke gestured at him with one lazy hand as he unlatched the top of his backpack and started withdrawing games. “I figured you would exclusively date super serious tough types.”

“... I'm tough,” Danny said morosely.

Jason resisted the urge to cackle. He didn't disbelieve it at all! Size wasn't everything. But the uh, the big baby eyes and slumping shoulders really weren't selling the toughness.

Duke shrugged, brutal and unconcerned with the damage he was leaving in his wake. “I was thinking more like a forensic accountant who collects rocks and cage fights literally just for the fitness benefits.” 

Jason took a moment to consider that theoretical accountant. He would date that person. They sounded well rounded. It was a sensible career, a chill hobby, and a reasonably active lifestyle. What was wrong with that? He frowned to himself. What was Duke even implying??

“I would date that accountant,” Danny reluctantly admitted. He seemed disgruntled about it. “I don't cage fight, sorry to disappoint. You can't imagine how much my sister would kill me if I tried.” 

“It's fine,” Jason reassured, making a mental note of a sister and the potential for quantifiable subsequent deaths. “Me either.” 

He could, though. He thought about it for a moment. He'd kick so much ass. That would be a fun way to give Bruce a heart attack. 

Duke snorted, but thankfully said nothing else. Jason didn't want to hear what Duke thought about his odds in cage fighting. Jason knew what was in his heart and that it was fighting potential. 

The game Duke and Danny settled on was a multiplayer racing game. Jason dutifully tried. His car bounced along and beat out all but one of the computer's characters. He endured two rounds before he bowed out and leaned back to watch the other two trash talk each other. 

Honestly, these games were repetitive and pretty boring. Jason zoned out and stretched. He was laying his arm along the back of the couch before he realized that was a bad idea. 

He froze, forearm just barely brushing against the back of Danny's neck. Danny… didn't seem to care. 

Well. Jason let his arm relax. It was only weird if Danny thought it was weird. 

Duke glanced over out of the corner of his eye and gave Jason a cat-faced smirk. Jason raised his hand just enough to show off his favorite finger. 

“Hey, gimme a min?” Duke said. “I need to use the bathroom.”

Liar. Sneaking liar, Jason thought fondly. He was going to try to spy and see what they did when he left the room. 

Danny hit the pause button and let the controller drop to the sofa. “Yeah, go piss girl,” he drawled. 

Jason cocked his head to the side in confusion.

Duke just laughed, so that must have been some kind of reference. He clambered over the back of the sofa and gave Danny's shoulders a light push on his way past. 

Danny went with the motion and bumped into Jason with a giggle. Jason endured it patiently, bemused but enjoying that they were both happy. 

The bathroom door shut behind Duke. 

Danny leaned further into Jason and contorted his neck at a frankly precarious angle to look up at him. “Are you having fun?” He checked. Danny's ear brushed against Jason's chest in a way that he was hyper aware of. There was line of concern between his eyebrows that Jason kinda wanted to smooth away with a thumb.

[d1s1ntegrated]

I just read your shigaraki fic with him stealing readers clothes and

First: loved it he’s such a little freak and I love him

Second: part 2? Maybe where reader goes into his rooms well he’s doing his thing with our clothes and gets caught red handed and just pretty much braces down and reader doms him or something I don’t know I just think a part 2 where reader walks in on him doing it would be fun

I’m sorry if this is against any rules you have you can ignore if you want

Im just an idiot 🙃 ok goodbye

shhhhh ur not an idiot and this is hot af so YASS

laundry pile (nsfw)

tomura x fem!reader

tags: stealing clothes, masturbation, stalker behavior, heavy petting, dacryphilia, p/v pen, swearing, degradation, dom/sub dynamic implied, fem reader, hardcore smut, light comfort, sub/switch! tomura, humiliation, oral (m&f rec)

A/N: i'm getting caught up on my asks finally 🫶 so sorry for the weird inactivity i love u all! also this isn't proofread sorry ill prob edit it later lol!

"For fucks sake" you threw your door open in frustration, storming down the hall to Shigaraki's room. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the worst. You didn't really want to ask him of all people, but you were desperate and flustered now.

You knock gently, and before hearing him respond, you turn the handle.

"Hey, Shigaraki, have you seen my-" You open the door of Tomura's room prematurely, the light knocking not alerting him fast enough as he scrambles to yank his covers over him.

"SHIT, fucking, GET THE FUCK OUT," the man's voice heightens in pitch with every word, straining to speak. He's gripping his blanket with four white knuckles, ring finger held above the blue fabric. His hands shake and beads of sweat are flattening his fringe to his forehead, and his breathing even from the doorway looks erratic. It's no mistake, you walked in at the wrong time. Your jaw hangs open slightly at the image of him and begin backing up slightly.

"I'm sorry, I'll...well, while I'm here," you start with a sheepish smile, "have you seen my black sweater? The one with the..." Your fingers twiddle around as you describe the well-loved garment, and he groans.

"...No," he wipes his hair from his face, "Go ask the girls."

"Sorry. Yeah, I'll do that." You reach for the door handle with a curt nod, and turn to head out, when something catches your eye. On the floor, next to a pile of used towels and dirty laundry, you notice the familiar lace trim, a delicate pink bow...

You reach for the piece as Tomura shoots up on his bed, still covering himself. "What are you doing??" His voice is anxious, and as you come back up, you hang the fabric delicately between your fingers in front of him.

"Are these my fucking underwear?" With a fire hot enough to burn his room to the ground, you storm closer to him, standing over him now with fierce eyes, able to really take in the sight of him now. His eyes are heavier than usual, his back flexed and his arms tense against his chest as he plasters the sheet against his snowy skin. He looks up at you with a feverish glint, avoiding contact with the skimpy bottoms hanging in front of his face. He shakes his head, unable to speak.

The sheet leaves little to the imagination, as you look him up and down in his bed. You bite back your rage as you notice a strap peeking out from under one of his pillows, and you shove him back and lean over to yank it out from underneath. Your pink bralette, that you could've sworn you lost for good, was now in your hands, waving dangerously close to Tomura. With wide eyes, he gives the equivalent look to a dog who got caught with a slipper. Cowering was a new look for him. As you stare him down, you notice the sheet twitching, an unmistakable silent pleading. Your face, now mere inches above his, sends his heart sprinting out of his body.

If it weren't for your discovery, it would've been almost...charming, to see him like this. Lips pink and puffy, as if they'd been bitten raw, and the remarkable sheen of sweat and lust glazing his scarred face. A heavy breath, halfway to climax and halfway to anxiety attack. You couldn't tell if he was turned on or terrified at this point. Your mind preferred the latter, but somewhere deep inside, you liked the idea of the former.

There was also something already charming about his actions. Your clothes were scattered all around him, around his room. Part of you felt enthralled by the idea of your fearsome leader, your boss, the dangerous villain doing something as depraved and perverted as stealing your clothes. Especially after all of the shit you guys fought about, how many times he told you to fuck off and that he couldn't stand you. It was like an unwritten confession, and it made your heart flutter for a moment. You stood there, thinking about what he was doing to them exactly, with a frivolous process. It didn't take much for your mind to conclude the thought, knowing you just caught him doing precisely what you could have imagined with them. It felt almost elementary to catch him in the act of something so vulgar, and despite your scornful expression, you had to fight the instinctual curling of your lips.

"What else do you have of mine?" You kept your face flat, curiosity driving you further. He shrank down a moment before raising a shaky arm towards his door.

"Close that, please" his brows furrowed as you both looked toward the wide-open door, giving whoever walked by a full view of the situation. You padded towards it and slammed it closed, locking it behind you before re-approaching him with the same fervor as before. You toss the two garments at him and ask him again.

"What else did you steal from me?"

He swallowed and took a deep breath before raising his hand up in defeat, "I'm sorry". His eyes glossed over as he looked away, blinking rapidly. He lifted the pillow behind him and began removing things from the pile of things. Multiple pairs of underwear, two bras, three shirts, a pair of lounge shorts, and a few random socks. Your jaw dropped as he handed them to you, sniffling with embarrassment and disturbance. You shook your head slowly, partially in awe and disbelief. How did he even manage...and why? How long had he been doing it for? Your mind raced as you compiled everything at the edge of his bed. He sat there dejected as you counted everything.

"Fourteen. FOURTEEN things of mine. Just under your pillow. What, why?? Where else do you hide it all? Is this where all my clothes have gone?" Your voice rises in frustration and confusion as he falters.

He shakes his head and quavers, with the smallest voice you've ever heard from him.

"I don't know. I'm sorry". He shows remorse, no doubt. But the movement underneath the thin sheet doesn't help to convince you of his guilt. Some part of him likes the fact he was caught, surely. It's easy to see it, with the faint flush of his complexion.

You lean down more and lift his face with a finger on his chin, directing his eyes to meet yours. You don't say anything, which scares him more than anything. At any point, you could run out of his room, screaming about how he was a freak, or a coward, or a stalker. Even him, your notorious leader, was scared of being exposed so viscerally. You recognize this, his crimson eyes welling with shameful tears as you look into them.

You wanted to be so angry. You wanted to be disgusted, freaked out, and you wanted to hate him. You could let him being murderous slide, but being a loser? It boiled your blood. But you couldn't tear yourself away from his wet gaze, the tears falling heavily now as you gripped his chin between thumb and forefinger. He didn't pull away, either, he just accepted his loss. There were so many reasons why you should hate him.

But you don't, you realize, as you lean in and pull him into a hungry kiss. His lips are rough, but wet with tears as you press yours into them. Maybe it was pity, maybe it's because you know he's pent up and stressed out and most certainly a virgin. It's possible he just needs comfort. Perhaps you're encouraging him, and for all you know, maybe you like that.

You stop yourself from thinking and just let your body move. You push him back, taking his hands away from the iron grip on the sheets and lifting them above his head. He doesn't argue, and complacently loosens his body with a light whimper as you touch him. You climb onto his lap, still pinning his arms down as you snake your tongue into his mouth. He tastes so sweet, so addicting. It was unlike anything you could describe, like apple and spices and sweet mint. You cave in to him, allowing yourself to feel the rush of endorphins swell in your core. Your mind goes blank as you feel his length between your legs, twitching and jumping like an eager animal.

You finally pull away from the kiss, only to bite down his scarred neck and shoulder.

"You're a fucking thief" you say between bites, and he whimpers.

"I know" he shakes as you sink your teeth in. He groans out as you bite down harder at his response.

"You're a fucking freak" you spit. He nods, trembling.

"I'm sorry" he cries out as you sink your canines into him.

"You like that, hm? You like being a sick fuck?" you tighten your grip on his wrists.

His whimpers and moans drive you crazy. You fight the urge to take him all at once, even if it tortures you as well. Your lips curl sadistically as you lick his wounds, tongue grazing over not only the bites, but the torn skin of his neck from his incessant scratching. The faint taste of blood stings in your mouth, the metallic fragrance soaking your senses. You feel your core liquify as tears spill from his eyes, the thick lashes sticking together. He sobs, clenching his jaw.

"Please, I can't take it". His heavy breaths buckle in his chest, and you bring your free hand up to caress his face.

"You're so pretty like this, Tomura" your voice is slick with hunger, a newfound lust from hearing his pathetic noises. He blinks up at you in a daze, his pupils blown wide as you release your grip on his wrists.

"Please" he whispers, and you laugh.

"Please what? You seriously think you're getting rewarded? For being a fucking pervert?"

Tomura bites his lip and shakes his head.

"No, I'm sorry".

It was a sight to behold. Your fearsome leader, now crumbling beneath you, begging to be touched. Pleading for forgiveness, admitting fault with fat tears soaking his cheeks. Everything you swore he would never be capable of, he was doing. And it made you feel so powerful. It was well overdue- someone eventually would've put him in his place- you just never thought it'd be you to do it.

You retreat from his lap, standing swiftly. You watch his face fall a bit, then relight as you slide your top and bottoms off, leaving you standing nearly naked in front of him. His eyes soak in the image of you, his hands clenching. You reach for the sheet and yank it off of him, finally, to expose his naked body completely.

His cock stands proud, already leaking and throbbing as you grab it. He gasps, the air hitching in his chest as your thumb slides down the tip, admiring his length as you squeeze it gently.

"You're such a desperate little bitch," you start demeaning him further, fingers trailing to wrap around his balls. He mewls as you continue, "I always knew you were a pathetic loser".

His cock convulses as you speak, and you lose you patience. You take him in your mouth, pressing your tongue flatly against the thickness. You graze your teeth against the sensitive skin, and he hisses out a string of curses. You speed up, fingers still teasing him with lazy tugs. You reach underneath and press two fingers against the untouched skin, massaging it gently. The action causes him to clench his fists mindlessly against the sheets, and they immediately disintegrate into nothingness. He grumbles out a "Fuck", but is swiftly redirected back to the multitude of sensations below. You laugh, his thick cock still in your mouth, and he throws his head back. He begins mindlessly thrusting into your throat, causing you to choke a bit on the size of him. He spreads his legs open further as you massage the neglected spot, clearly enjoying the newly discovered sensitivity.

Before he can finish, and god is he dangerously close to doing so, you pull off of him. He groans and silently begs for more, but you shake your head and get back on top of him.

"You think I'm doing this for your enjoyment? You owe me, not the other way around." you spew out. "It's my turn, loser."

He doesn't have time to argue it as you slide your underwear off and bring yourself to his face. You speak, knowing his can't respond, enjoying his compliance. "Have you ever done this before? No? Hm..." You chuckle out sinfully as his mouth falls wide, dragging his tongue up your dripping cunt to your clit. "Do a good job, and maybe then I'll let you have more."

He's clearly inexperienced, the way his tongue explores your folds and curves, but he's starving regardless. He presses his tongue deeply into you, moaning at the taste as you grind against his mouth. He gains confidence as he grips your hips with a four-fingered grip, keeping his pinkies as far as anatomically possible from your soft skin. He kneads his slender fingers into the fat of your hips and ass, his nails digging in as his tongue picks up speed. After a minute or two adjusting, he's eating you like a dog, licking and sucking and nipping at everything he can, with a determination previously unseen. It feels unforgettable, the way his teeth graze your clit and his tongue licks at you like you're candy. The poor depraved man laying under you, finally graced with the taste of you he's only ever had in dreams. You tasted much better than the underwear he stole. It felt holy now, so dirty and urgent that it felt like prayer.

You can't avoid the hastily approaching orgasm as he flicks his tongue on the throbbing bundle of nerves. You grind down on his face, coating his mouth and chin with your heat as he sends you over the edge. You drive your hips down, nearly suffocating him, as you clench and shiver on his face. You can feel him panting and smiling and swallowing every drop of your climax thankfully, which sends you even further.

When you finally come crashing down, you pull off of him and slide back down his chest and position him right in front of your needy hole. But you can't give into him just yet. It's his punishment, not reward, to fuck you and please you and make you cum.

He looks positively elated, his pupils still swallowing his ruby irises and his hair tangled around his pretty face. He's smiling, with a tired breath, but he's nowhere near done. He's completely aware of his consequences.

"Good boy, Tomu" you praise him with a gentle kiss on the cheek, his face still soaked from you. He smiles a bit more, but is still silent as you continue, "I almost forgive you for being such a disgusting slut".

He nods and silently mouths out an "okay". You trail a finger up his jaw and press a kiss to it. But his response isn't enough for you. You want more, you want to press the subject deeper before allowing him to have something so sacred.

"Tell me, pretty freak; why did you steal my clothes?"

He takes a moment to bite his lip, looking away as he responds. "I like to".

Not good enough. "And?" you pry.

"It...feels good. To smell you. And taste you. It feels so good..." he bleats out pitifully, and you can't help but feel a little bit enamored at his answer.

"Yeah? Was it worth it?" You tilt your head slightly, loving his plaintive admissions.

He nods and smiles, "Definitely".

Tomura's slight defiance stirs something inside of you. At the end of the day, he always gets what he wants. And if he wanted to steal your clothes, soil them with a weeks worth of cum, he fucking would. He did. He wasn't an entirely too demanding person, but he was, at his core, determined to have everything he wants. Including you, in every way he can.

You can't wait any longer as you take his length inside of you. You gasp out a bit at the size, feeling it stretch your walls with a burning sensation. He immediately moans out, unable to even slightly quiet down as he feels how wet you are around him.

"You're so fucking tight," he cries, and you clench around him, causing him to spasm a bit. His eyes roll back and he begins thrusting into you from below, the friction driving you crazy. "You feel just like I imagined" he confesses, words heavy with desire.

You grind into him as he thrusts, both rutting against each other fervidly. The tuft of baby blue hair drags a bit against your clit and you can't help as his name spills from your lips like honey.

"Fuck, Tomura, you're so big" you lewdly cry out as he grips you again. His cock slams against your cervix, sliding in and out of your entrance rapidly. His moans and whimpers become intangible, a never-ending slew of crude noises just leaking from his pretty pink lips. You nearly forget being angry, you throw your inhibitions to the side, because it feels far too good to not focus on entirely. The way he whines and keens melts you like the sun.

You both get closer with each frantic thrust. Months of pining and pretending to hate each other paid off well enough, because the feeling of his cock inside of you, plowing you filthily, locked in the satisfaction of meeting him in the first place.

"And I thought you hated my guts" you moan out as he slams into you, folding a bit. He wraps his arms around you and you tuck your head into his neck as he takes complete control from beneath.

"No, I just, fuck, couldn't stand not having this" he breathes out, his hold on you intensifying. "I want you".

His speed shakes your mind, leaving you fuzzy as you reach your final breaking point. He's close behind, his thrusts becoming less coordinated as he moans out your name like a broken record.

"Tomura, I-"

He cuts you off with a whine, "Please, let me cum inside of you". You completely shatter around him, the heat inside of you finally snapping in half as you grind into him mindlessly, the sensation of your orgasm tearing through you like a full moon's tide. You cry and gasp out into his ear, and he decides he can't wait anymore. He spills into you with a howl, twitching and sputtering as he finally fills you up. The pearly strings coat your sore insides, gumming you up. He sinks his teeth down into your neck as he ruts into you, pumping his seed deeper inside as he rides out his orgasm. You feel the suffocating wave of euphoria wash over you, unable to form a coherent thought as he pulls out slowly.

He lolls his head back and keeps you wrapped in his arms, unwilling to release you.

"I'm sorry" he finally speaks. The silence in the room dissipates with his raspy voice, and you nod.

"Do you at least wash them when you're done?" You ask, and he nods back.

"I return them when you aren't there.." he admits.

"Okay" you don't have the energy or even the space inside of you to actually be mad. If anything, you were more upset before cause for the most part, you were missing a lot of your favorite pairs of underwear, and you thought you were losing your mind.

"I promise I'll stop" he whispers into your hair, "I'm sorry".

You shake your head against his chest. "Don't. It gives me an excuse to come back in here and do this again".

His heartbeat speeds a bit as he processes your words. A part of him wants to tell you you don't need an excuse. But the other part of him wants you to keep catching him. The chase, the raw desire, he'd been playing the long game, and you fell right for it. His silly little game he'd been playing worked out perfectly in his favor, and he relished in that fact.

He doesn't respond. You close your eyes on his chest, and he pulls up the other blanket that was unscathed from his torrential grip. He smiles to himself as you slowly fall asleep on him, your breathing slowing. Lying there with you, he finally felt content and full for once, and that scared him. But he laid there still, soaking in the feeling of completing his goal.

But he no longer wanted to play this game. He wanted to win it.