#the scene when they find will's body still remains one of the best and one of the most heartbreaking moments in the series

[omgeto]

☆ THRILL (h)ER! — SATOSUGU X READER

summary: when watching a scary movie with your two best friends, you cant help but hold onto them tight every time you get jumpscared. but as the night goes on and your fingers roam... wait, what movie were you watching again?

wc: 3.3k (its alll smut guys so give me a medal)

cw: double penetration, praising, slight degradation, gojo and geto bickering, fingering, dirty talk (?) and some fun loving you're their pretty little princess. afab!reader, MDNI

an: guys look I finally posted a fic for kinktober, yay me, I hope you like it since Id say the smut on this one hits different sooo give it a chance. also only big brains will understand the fic title.

KINKTOBER M.LIST.

your best friends, gojo and geto always have a way of making you feel right at home, especially when you find yourself in your favourite spot on the couch – sandwiched between them. geto's embrace is a gentle yet possessive one, his arms wrapped around you in a tender hold that radiates warmth, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your lower back.

to your side, gojo's long limbs seamlessly entwine with yours. your legs stretch over to meet him, creating an intimate tangle of limbs. his fingers trail leisurely up and down your thighs, their teasing caresses sending delightful shivers through your body. it's a familiar and electric sensation that's become an unspoken language among the three of you—one that hasn’t fully been enacted upon… yet.

"i don't know why you insist we watch this movie every year," geto complains, his gaze locked onto his b est friend, a playful frustration in his tone. "you're so predictable."

"oh, don't be a bore," gojo retorts, matching geto's glare before shifting his attention down to you. his voice is laced with mischief as he speaks to you. "you find it fun, don't you?" 

“what? do i like crappy slashers from the 80s with big titted damsels running from a shitly costumed killer?” you deadpan, your sarcasm evident. you could feel the vibration from geto as he lowly chuckles. gojo’s face forms a pout that prompts you to quickly add, “but i love them.”

gojo’s pout transforms into a triumphant grin as your admission earns you a playful nudge from him. “that’s my girl,” he exclaims, giving your thigh an excited rub as he turns on the movie.

geto, still chuckling softly, leans in closer. “well, i suppose if toru enjoys it, we can endure it one more time.” his words carry a hint of tenderness, his arm around you tightening ever so slightly, puling you closer into his embrace.                                                                            

you watch the movie in a comfortable silence, the only noise coming from the tv and gojo's oddly placed screams that you've come to expect every year. his over-the-top reactions to jump scares and gruesome scenes never fail to amuse you, and it's a source of endless entertainment for both you and geto.

geto, on the other hand, watches the movie with a more stoic expression, occasionally shaking his head at the implausible plot twists and unrealistic gore. His hand continues to rest on your thigh, his fingers now tracing soothing patterns as if to counterbalance the tension on the screen.

as the movie progresses, you notice how both gojo and geto steal glances at you when they think you're not looking, as their innocent touches progress into heavy petting. but there's a moment where you all pause, their movements stop, and you all look at each other as the loud sounds of exaggerated moans blare from the screen.

“i always forget this scene is in there,” gojo lies, with a snicker, an appreciative smile forming on his face as he watches the scene.gojo's arm remains draped around your shoulders, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your arm, while geto's touch has grown increasingly intimate, his hand resting on your hip, his thumb making slow, deliberate circles.

“oh don’t bullshit satoru,” geto accuses, taking his hand off of you for a second to send a jab into gojo’s side, “i know you’re getting off on watching this ditzy blonde getting laid.”

“not true,” gojo retorts childishly, “i think there’s better sights to get off on, isn’t that right?” he finishes casting his eyes, not so subtly, over to you.

“well i can’t lie and say the sights aren’t… appealing,” geto grins his hands coming back on you, toying with the hem of your shirt.

“you two are such guys,” you laugh, trying to remain nonchalant even though on the inside the pace of your heart was quickening, and every touch of their fingers sends jolts straight to your core. “you’re focusing on the wrong things here.”

“and what should we be focusing on here?” geto murmurs at you, you couldn’t see his face but you knew a smirk was plastered across it. his challenge hangs in the air as you pause, hesitating as you scan the room, your eyes meeting gojo’s trying to gauge if they are thinking what you are. geto can sense your hesitation as he feels your breathing still as you lean against him, so he pulls his finger under your chin turning your head to face him. “let us focus on you, come here.”

you lean in, his lips enclosing on yours in a deep kiss, you turn your body almost straddling him so you could get better access. his tongue enters your mouth, as his hands work down your body, and as the kiss intensifies, you’re aware of gojo’s gaze on you. you extend an inviting hand toward him, flashing him a smile as you pull away from geto and set your lips on your other friend.

gojo groans as your lips work with his, and his hands go straight into his pants, fisting his dick that has been hard all night just at the sight of you. geto cascades kisses down your neck as he starts to pull your shirt up off of you, you gasp at the feeling of both of their hands and lips all over you.

“h-how long have you two been planning this one then, huh?” you grin, a laugh escaping through your moans, as you let geto get rid of your shirt, assisting gojo with taking off your pants. 

“how long have we known you?” geto responds rhetorically, and gojo nod in agreement, as they both take off their jogging bottoms, leaving you all sitting on the couch in your underwear. there is no more hesitation, or uncertainty between you three—you all know exactly what you want.

“so who gets to have me first?” you joke, your eyes darting between the two of them, their lustful eyes are unmistakable as they stare at your body, their dicks straining against their boxers ready to be suffocated by your tight pussy.

“i get to!” gojo sputters out quickly, but he’s not as swift as geto who’s already pulled you back onto him, his fingers pushing into you without any warning. your mouth parts, as you let out a whine, as his long digits give your pussy fast, relentless strokes, he adds another finger, smirking as your body buckles against his. “hey no fair!” gojo pouts, side eyeing geto, but he can’t help biting his lip as he hears your cunt squelch everytime his best friend shoves his fingers into it.

“don’t worry, ‘toru,” geto reassures, his fingers curling up into you before he pulls it out swiftly, spreading your pussy apart and giving gojo a knowing look, “there’s room for the both of us.”

gojo eagerly drives his fingers into you from behind, his body pressing against yours as he charges your fingers into you. your moans increase as you feel a flurry of digits explore your pussy, gojo’s hand grips on his shoulder and geto hand holds your waist as they both tug your body back and forth in an attempt to get you closer to them.

“s-shit” you cry out, as you clench around their fingers, trying to keep them inside of you. you grind down against both of their fingers, your whimpers encouraging them to twist and push their fingers deeper into you.

“you see how much of a mess she gets for us?” geto asks gojo with a low chuckle, and gojo nods, smiling as the wetness of your pussy allows for his fingers to slide into you with ease, “press down on her clit. hard.”

“don’t tell me what to do,” gojo mutters, but he does it anyway. his thumb going straight to your clit, pushing down on it, smirking as you groan your back arching right into him. 

“see i told you,” geto chimes, laughing as gojo glares at him. geto’s focus shifts to you, as he pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them to your mouth, he holds your chin, placing his thumb on your bottom lip as he raises his eyebrows at you for permission. you nod lazily, opening your mouth, accepting two of his fingers —which are drenched in your juices. “‘toru, you gonna finish her off for me.”

gojo smirks, his fingers working in overdrive, as he adds another digit inside of you and you could feel yourself about to release. geto can tell you're close from the way you bite down on his fingers. “you close? you gonna cum on satoru’s fingers as you taste yourself?”

you couldn’t even respond, as your cum sprays all over gojo’s fingers and geto’s stomach. the boys both smirk at each other, as they hear your high pitched moans and see heaps of your cum spilling out of your pussy running down your thighs. gojo is in awe, his fingers still remain in you and he pushes them up lazily, trying to keep you plugged with your cum. you relax onto his fingers, letting him do as he pleases, as you try and catch your breath your body slumping onto geto’s.

“you did so well,” geto praises in his air, lifting up your head off your chest, pecking your lips softly. “you took both of our fingers letting us stretch your tight pussy, it felt good didn’t it?” 

“y-yeah it felt so good sugu,” you sigh, turning your head to face gojo, as you pull him closer into you, “you both felt so good.”

“you wanna let us stuff you further?” gojo questions eagerly, his hard dick resting on your ass, as rocks against you.

“satoru,” geto reprimands, shaking his head at his friends over excitement. but gojo shoots him a look shrugging as he presses his face into the crook of your neck, practically inhaling you.

“but suguru, she wants us both to stuff her,” he argues, as fingers already go back to your sobbing cunt. “you want that dont you?” he whispers, directly in your ear, slowly coaxing your pussy with soft strokes as he murmurs in your ear. “you want me and sugu to shove our dicks right up your pussy, together.”

“i don’t know if i can…” you hesitate, your voice faltering, but you pull your lip between your teeth, closing your eyes as you think about taking both of them.

“c’mon pretty girl,” geto persuades you, forcing you to open your eyes and look at the teasing smirk on your face, “don’t think we don’t know how slutty you can be. you know your greedy little cunt take both of us with ease, and you want it to, don't you?” you nod your head slowly in agreement, but geto shakes his, “no, we need to hear you say it. use your words. tell us what you want.”

“i want your dicks to stuff my pussy,” you admit, feeling your confidence grow as the smirk on geto’s face widens and you can hear gojo lowly growl in your ear. “i need it.”

“well we have to give our girl what she wants, right sugu?” gojo taunts, pulling you off of gojo and onto his lap, his dick slaps against your pussy. “suguru got to see your pretty face, before, so this time you’re all mine, okay?” gojo says to you, and you could hear geto kiss his teeth, but he obliges letting gojo have his way this time. 

“you ready for me?” gojo asks, waiting for your approval as he lifts you up slightly over his dick, he even looks over to geto he leans back against the couch, with his dick in his hand. you don’t even answer gojo, sliding down onto gojo as you moan together.

geto fists his dick at the sight, “go on satoru, fuck her,” he orders, his strokes increasing as he watches as gojo begin to thrust into you. your hands press down on gojo’s shoulder’s as you start to bounce on him, you lean forward whining straight in his ear, causing him fuck you harder.

gojo plays with your bra strap, pulling it and letting it release against your shoulder, “i don’t know why you’ve still got this on,” he complains, as brings his hands to the clasp of your bra, undoing it. your tits bounce as he pulls off your bra, and both boys smile at the sight. gojo’s fingers pull against both of your nipples, twisting and pulling at them causing you to cry at every tug. “so sensitive,” he mutters to himself, touching your tits inquisitively as he continues to toy with them, loving how with every touch your cries grow louder.

“it’s crazy how we stretched you so well earlier, but your pussy is still tight as fuck,” gojo comments, his words punctuated with every thrust. “i had all my fingers inside of you already, but your cock hungry cunt just can’t seem to get enough.”

“is he fucking you good?” geto calls, feeling himself about to cum, as he rubs against his dick hard. you look over to him and smile, nodding quickly as you wrap your hands around gojos neck, clinging to him as his dick drives into you. geto stands up, coming up behind you pressing a kiss on your neck, “you need me to help get you off?”

“she doesn’t need anything from you, i’m doing just fine,” gojo mumbles, but he lets you slightly raise up off of his dick and he smirks as he feels geto join him, geto’s dick presses against gojo in excitement as they wait in anticipation for you to enclose them with your pussy. 

“don’t be nervous,” geto coos from behind you, nipping at your ear. you look at gojo and he gives you an encouraging nod, and you slide back down onto them hissing in slight pain as you feel them both enter you. “it’s okay pretty, you’re doing so so well,” geto continues to reassure you, pressing soothing kisses down your neck, his lips sucking at your flesh. you all pause as you fully take them both in, and you feel the pain subside smiling at gojo giving him permission to move. 

geto follows suit, and you all move in tandem, fucking against each other. gojo places his hands on your ass, pushing your cheeks in pace with his movements whereas geto’s hands cup your tits, holding them firmly as he spreads his fingers over your nipples, rolling them.

“fu-fuck you two are too big, you can’t” you whine, clawing against gojo’s chest. they were both drilling into you relentlessly, you couldn’t catch your breath as every second you were being double stuffed with dick. tears spring to your eyes, as you cry out in pleasure, grinding down against them trying to get as much as them as possible. 

“if only you could see how slutty our girl looks,” gojo says to geto, as he watches your head fall back, another moan escaping your lips. “her eyes are all glossed over, she’s fucking crying, all slutted out on our dicks right now.”

“is that so?” geto mutters, he forces himself into you deeper, his back hitching up against yours, his clench on your tits tightening as he inches himself in your pussy, his hips slapping against you. “she’s such a good slut, i knew she’d be able to take us well, and look she’s loving it, already creaming all over us, isn’t that baby?”

you nod, your hand coming up to hold geto’s head as he nestles into your neck. you were losing your train of thought, you wanted to tell them how good they felt, how their dicks rubbing against each other in you was all you needed for the rest of you life, but when you open your mouth all that can leave your lips is incoherent words and moans. 

both of them smile, watching as you come undone on their dicks. gojo gives geto a nod, and their hands trade places. gojos fingers coming back to your tits, rubbing and pushing them apart before lowering his head to your chest, nuzzling your boobs. gojo and geto were so close that some things between them didn’t need to be spoken, and they were so close to you that they knew your body in and out. they knew when to push and pull, and where to suck just to get you cumming their lap.

“i’m s-so close, i’m gonna cu—” you try and speak out, but your mind is too far gone for you to finish. their dicks slip out of you as your bounces become sloppy, the pleasure too much for you but geto forces you back muttering reassurance in your neck. and the sudden contact causes you to cum, you release all over both them, but they don’t stop their movements, their dicks driving into you still, pushing back in all the cum you were letting out.

“satoru, we gonna give our girl one final stuffing?” geto prompts, and gojo nods, they both give you one final push and you could feel your pussy stretch as their cum sprays your walls. you wail out, the tears streaming your face as your body jerks forward, feeling their dicks go limp inside of you as you all pant in pleasure.

“that was fucking amazing,” gojo praises, a blissful smile on his face as he leans back his head resting on his arms. you return his smile, your lips meeting his in a quick kiss, that he groans at as you pull away. you come off his dick slowly, all of your eyes staring at the ropes of cum that immediately spill out of your pussy as he unplugs you. 

geto turns your head to face him, his dick still lodged deeply inside of you, he pulls you into a long kiss, his mouth smothering yours. he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, roughly biting down on it before releasing you, his hand cupping your chin, forcing you to stare up at him “you’re mine, my pretty slutty mess.”

“um she’s ours,” gojo chimes in, but geto shrugs, not caring to listen to your other friend. geto, finally pulls you off his dick, and your pussy clenches around nothing, already missing the feeling of their dicks.

“you too always know to take good care of me,” you exhale, exhausted your pussy sore about being stretched open by the two of them. geto pulls you back into his original hold, leaning back against his chest, and your legs stretch over gojo’s lap. but this time instead of innocent gentle touches, geto’s hands lazily tug at your nipples, and gojo caresses your naked thighs, his fingers flicking at your clit every now and again.

“that’s what friends are for,” geto muses, pressing his lips against your cheek before saying, “now satoru, are you gonna press play on this shitty movie or what?”

AN: ight so there you have it my FIRST FIC of kinktober, what do you guys think I need to hear all your thoughts since Ooooof this took me so long to write. so I hope it is worth it. also if you see my bias towards geto during this then LOOK AWAY, im sorry gojo stans but im a geto lover foreverrr. but yeahhh lmk ur thoughts stay tuned for my other kink tober fics which WILL be on time I promise smooches.

[tadc-harlequin-au]

New Puppet Unlocked: Caine, The Puppetmaster!

Caine's character description:

For the longest time, Caine believed that he was the only Puppet left who hasn't gone insane, and has spent living in near complete and total isolation for it (if it weren't for Bubble, his robotic Butler Blimp), drowning himself in booze. That was, until Pomni suddenly arrived at his office out of nowhere and challenged him.

Her sudden appearance, her fierceness in battle and various other reasons, Caine sought to get Pomni to see the dire situation after a stalemate in their duel; That they're the last remnants of sane minds remaining in this forsaken lands and he needs her help for what must be done next, if they are to improve the world's conditions. Thankfully, the Harlequin was not actually cold-hearted, just hot-tempered.

Reinvigorated in his self-assigned purpose, The Puppetmaster now spends his time either indoctrinating reawakened Puppets and teaching them how to become "human" once more, tinkering/inventing new machines, having friendly debates or sparring with Pomni just to satisfy her urge to battle, and various other things.

Though, he still likes to drink.

Fun facts about Caine:

He is a massive drunkard.

He passes out in the most random places if he drinks too much. One of the most outrageous locations Pomni has found him in was at the chandelier on the main lounge, which even he can't remember how he got there.

Caine still acts boisterous and speaks mostly formally; though there are ways you can break his way of speech, the easiest way to do it is to surprise him.

He avoids using swears, says it's a gentleman's code. Though, some get past his mouth on a rare occasion.

He created Bubble out of loneliness, initially just wanting someone to talk to.

In a comedic parallel, he tends to limit Pomni's cravings for battle by holding her sword hostage as much as possible, of course to the Harlequin's frustration.

His second gold tooth on his bottom jaw was a result of his and Pomni's first meeting/duel. She ended up kicking him so hard in her rage, one teeth cracked in half and flew off.

He tends to look at everyone with a positive mindset and the want to see the best in them; although Jax seems to be a rare exception. Still, he lets the automaton be.

Most of his time is spent hanging around in his office. The only time you'll see him outside is if there's a task he needs to attend to, assembling Pomni back together in the cellar, another sparring match with the Harlequin, or when he talks to Z and/or Kingr, since they are both too big for the insides of the mansion.

Like almost every ADHD-person, he is prone to getting distracted easily.

He has a strict "no fighting in the premises" rule; instead, he tells them to literally take it outside (even if it means being on the neighboring lawn), as long as it's not on the INSIDE.

He keeps his shirt opened because he feels discomfort and suffocated when he buttons it up.

He doesn't like to talk about his past.

When asked what's his classification, he'll avoid and switch topics. His rare anger (but eerily-calm way of speech) comes out when you ask about it too much.

He does admit that his entire body was self-modified.

You can hear his arrival in a scene by the sounds of ball joints slightly cracking in place.

Aside from Pomni, he likes Kingr the most, finding the chess piece's presence calming. This has lead to jokes about a bromance happening between the two.

And just like Pomni as well, Caine fixes Kingr the most because the Helpful King tends to use himself as a shield for the Harlequin.

He's rarely seen without his cane.

He HEAVILY dislikes it when Pomni dies. When he is aware that Pomni is at the brink of death, he'll start panicking and telling her to go back and abandon the mission for now, through Bubble.

Quotes:

"Greetings! I am Caine, and I am here to help you. That's all you need to know."

"I think we can arrange that."

"This is not part of the plan!"

"No fighting! Take it outside."

"Perhaps we can reach to a sort of agreement..."

"Hmm... quite intriguing."

"Why, I must say, this is quite the predicament..."

"Will you be mindful of your own sake next time, pretty please?"

"... I don't-... think that's how-... you know what, do whatever you want."

"... Okay, you don't need to go that far."

"You know what this calls for? [...] A CELEBRATION! [...] BUBBLE, TO THE LIQUOR STORAGE"

"You know, I haven't really thought this through enough--"

"BUBBLE! Did you chew through my latest project again?!"

"Oy vey..."

"I am aware of the effect that alcohol has on me. And quite frankly, I don't care."

"Strange, where am I? Who am I? What are we, but mass-produced products catered to extending one's stay on a desolate, abandoned realm? Are we even human anymore, or are we machines that think we're human in order to save ourselves from the pain of a fake existence? Hm? Oh right, I haven't eaten my dinner."

"Must we really resort to this method?"

"Oh, I just fixed that!"

"Apologies, I blanked out for a second. What were we talking about?"

"Bubble here can help you out on your dilemma. Just don't listen to him for any advices. Personally, I think sometimes he can make you jump off a cliff."

"What do you mean "I need to stop drinking"? I'm perfectly fi- *passes out*"

"Am I aware that it is an unhealthy coping mechanism? Yes. Do I plan to stop? Not exactly, there aren't a lot of options left."

"That is outrageous! Me? With her? That's... It's... *sigh* I can't. She'd never."

"May I just say, for once, what the actual fuck."

[jigeuminunbich]

what a girl wants | park jisung (m)

synopsis after tapping out early into your first-time, jisung refuses to be a fool in front of you again. gathering reinforcements, he arms himself in preparation to please you when the next time comes for you both to be intimate. and boy, does he learn a lot.

genre nonidol!au (inexperienced!jisung x experienced!reader), fem!reader, mature (smut), and established relationship

minors dni, please ! (nsfw tags under the cut)

content probably needs another proof read, men explaining sex, multiple scenes of ji lasting a millisecond (jk, jk), pet-names (pretty, babe, baby), reader naturally takes on a bit of a dominate role, brief missionary, cunniligus, overstimulation, hair-pulling, unprotected probone, even more missionary, ear play + sucking, creampie, and a tiny off-hand joke about dh offering to fawk jisung

word count 6k

author’s note listen, ik virtually everyone came out of tds3 loving chenle (rightfully so) but personally, i’ve been on jisung timing since my stop teehee 🤭

I. ACT ONE

Jisung had dreamed of this moment much more than he’d care to admit to. You both had been dating for nearly a year and had yet gotten to the point of stark intimacy, well, until now.

It was breathtaking really, seeing you under him. He couldn’t believe this was his reality, that you were actually doing this with him. That was all he could think about when you first initiated it. He let you take the lead, per usual, but this time it reached a point where he was eager to agree when you asked if he was ready.

Though, at this moment, he was coming to regret that excited confirmation he had delivered earlier.

“Oh,” you verbalized from the junction of Jisung’s neck following the sudden stall in his movements. “Did you…?”

A faint whimper escapes from Jisung’s lips, visibly coming down from his evident climax. You watch as Jisung’s eyes flutter open, his face soon contorting into a look of sheer horror, dropping his head to where your bodies met to witness the scene completely for himself.

“Oh my god…” he mumbles in what you read as bewilderment, his head snapping back to speak to you.

“___, I am so sorry.” Jisung sputters out immediately.

A fond laugh fights its way through you, and you shake your head to mask it away. “No, no. It’s okay, Ji’…”

You try to comfort him, but his flushed face remains puffy with frustration. Your hands that come to coddle his bloated cheeks do little to soothe his nerves. Jisung huffs, undoubtedly upset with himself.

“Hey, look at me.” You urge his gaze to meet your own, he finds your eyes soft and a tender smile playing at your lips. Jisung finds his heart rate slowing at this, the pad of your thumb that smoothes over his tense jaw aiding in his relaxation.

“We can stop, if you want?”

Jisung inhales sharply, squeezing his eyes shut as if once he opens them back up that this moment will have never happened. But you’re still there, waiting patiently for his answer.

He thinks for a moment. There was a thought that spoke to him, to keep going as he knew how long you both had waited for this night. But the weight of his reality felt like it was physically crushing him too much to listen.

“Uh, yeah. I think that’d be best…” He answers meekly and you reluctantly nod.

His room falls silent besides from the rustling of you assisting him with pulling out and the bed creaking under his weight as he plops in the spot next to your body. You regretfully sit up after only experiencing time on your back momentarily, sparing a solemn look to Jisung who’s large hands hide his face.

“You okay?” Your voice is gentle as you probe him.

Jisung clears his throat, revealing his face briefly when he sits up on his elbows to address you. It’s painted a furious pink from what you assume is his embarrassment and shimmers with sweat. “Yeah, I just—uh— need a minute.”

Understanding of him, you decide to slip away to handle yourself. “Okay, well, I’ll be in the bathroom.”

“Mhm.” Jisung nods, watching you intently as you slide from the mattress, grabbing his once discarded tee, and trail to the nearby bathroom before disappearing behind the door.

His body meets his bed again with a thud, shielding his hot face away with his hands once again.

II. JUDGEMENT FREE ZONE

It takes a number of business days before Jisung can even work up the courage to see you in person, let alone mention what had transpired that night. The memory had been gnawing away at him since, every time he blinked, or tried to sleep, your nonplus reaction to his “premature” arrival was all he could see.

There was no way he could bring it up in conversation just yet… at least not to you.

“You what?!” Renjun exclaims in absolute horror.

“He lasted thirty seconds!” Chenle gleefully responds for Jisung, still coming down from the belly-splitting laughing fit he had just went through before informing Renjun.

Brazenly (and stupidly), Jisung had decided he was fed up with his set of circumstances— trusting his best-friend and roommate, Chenle, with the information that had landed him in this unfortunate position.

But very quickly, he realized just how much of a mistake that was.

Jisung sighs frustratedly— sparing the brunette a piercing glare before angling his attention back to Renjun, “It was more like a minute and a half…”

“Oh, Jisung, that’s still not good.” Renjun comes over, slowly sitting on the opposite side of his junior.

“I know.” Jisung physically slumps in his spot, a cutesy pout on his face.

A tight-lipped, earnest smile graces Renjun’s face and he places a comforting hand on Jisung’s shoulder. “Did you at least help her?”

Jisung asks blankly, confused. “With what?”

Renjun pauses alongside Chenle, both of them sharing a horrified look while Jisung looks between them like a neonate dear.

“You didn’t help her?!” Chenle screeches, eyes bulging and eyebrows angled in complete confusion.

“Do what?!” Jisung bellows, now frustrated.

“Jisung, even I know what you’re supposed to do for your girlfriend in the event you.. finish early…” Renjun voices deeply and careful enough for his friend’s digestion.

Jisung pauses for a moment, picking apart Renjun’s words before making a face of understanding.“I— oh, well she said she’d take care of it!”

“Still,” Renjun sighs, taking a moment to calm himself. “you’re supposed to offer, man.”

“I’ve got to tell Mark about this…” Chenle shakes his head, already typing in the group chat.

III. SECOND OPINION(S)

“Dude…”

Mark’s face is twisted in an expression Jisung can only decipher as disbelief, a common emotion he’s encountered since filling in his friend group on his situation.

“I know, I know. It’s not a good look.”

Donghyuck scoffs amusedly, having stopped in on the conversation after overhearing the absurd topic. “It’s an awful look, actually. How do you cum in thirty seconds without getting your girl off after?”

“It wasn’t—“ Jisung sighs, gathering himself. “I don’t know. I have no idea what I’m doing.” He recedes, sinking into the material of the couch that supported him, Mark, and Jaemin.

“Well, ___ knows this, right?” Jeno pipes from beside Donghyuck after remaining silent the whole debriefing session.

Jisung shifts in his spot, shrinking from the burning gazes of his friends as they wait for him to overshare. “Yeah, I mean, we talked about it before. But she has experience, and— I dunno— I thought I’d at least do okay…”

“Ah, Jisung. No ones ever perfect doing anything for the first time.” Jaemin plants a rather rough yet consoling pat on the younger’s back.

“I was.” Donghyuck interjects, a smug look on his face while shrugging his shoulders.

Renjun scoffs, shoving the back of the former’s head from his positioning— leaning over the same couch Donghyuck happened to be sprawled across. “You cried.”

“Aht!“ Donghyuck rubs his head, snapping around to correct his friend. “That was the second time!”

Mark sighs deeply, drawing the attention away from his friends’ squabble. “Jisung, have you both talked about it since?”

Jisung anxiously plays with his ear, pouting. “Well, no, even if I wanted to I just don’t know what I’d say…” It was a true concern for him. He had muddled over the scenario in his about a dozen times at this point, and every time he couldn’t find the appropriate words to say to you— even if you weren’t even really there.

“Sorry for only lasting thirty seconds?” Chenle wickedly suggests, earning yet another warning glare from Jisung.

“Ou, if you don’t know how to say it, you could always get a cake!” Donghyuck piles on, promptly earning another wack to his head— this time Jeno is the unamused culprit.

“Look, next time you see her, just be honest.” Jaemin advises, effectively drowning out the whining of his battered friend who claimed Chenle deserves the lashings because he commented first.

Jisung nods, considering it but not with another issue forming in his mind. “Okay, well… what about… you know...”

“The sex?” A handful of them chime in response.

The younger boy’s lips form a tight, shy line, obviously still finding the topic a bit taboo. “Yes, yes— that. What am I supposed to do? I don’t want a repeat of last time…”

“Just watch a bunch of porn, that’s what I did.” Donghyuck recommends, still testing his luck.

Exhausted, Renjun simply lets his eyes pierce into the back of his friend’s head for a moment before sighing.

“How about we don’t do that and just give you some pointers, hmm?”

Jisung claps his hands together, liking that nugget of advice way more than Donghyuck’s, who sits offended, tongue infamously poking his cheek.

“Okay, sounds good.”

IV. H.T.P.A.S.Y.G 101

Now, when Jisung was told that everyone would be meeting in he, Chenle, and Renjun’s shared living room to “give him pointers”, he didn’t necessarily expect to be surrounded by his friends while his television displayed a slide show.

Surprisingly, Donghyuck ran the operation with his laptop perched on the armrest on the opposite couch, even after his treatment the other night.

“Alright, Jisung, welcome to how to please and satisfy your girl 1-0-1!” Donghyuck stands at the center of the room, gesturing towards the screen that projects the title ‘H.T.P.A.S.Y.G 101’— along with throwaway stock photos of couples experiencing varied emotions.

“Woah. Did you make this?” Jisung voices, foolishly impressed with his friend’s set-up.

Donghyuck’s facials drop, “No. It was already a template on Canva.” He deadpans while Jisung makes a motion of understanding.

Collectively, his friends blink ludicrously at Jisung’s naïveté. “He made it, Jisung-ie…” Jaemin clarifies slowly.

“Ah,” the latter nods, embarrassment creeping up his skin.

Donghyuck shakes his head before putting the attention back on the screen where he flips to the next slide, automatically does Jisung pull out his phone to retain the coming information.

“Okay, first rule, don’t come in thirty seconds.”

A cacophony of snickers and tittering emerge from the group at Jisung’s expense.

“I— how long are you guys gonna run with this?” Jisung cringes, regretting all over again even including the detail of his duration.

The man in the center staggers back into his spot, pretending to wipe away fallen tears. “I’m sorry it’s too funny…”

“Now! It may seem hard but the last thing we want is a redo of what happened last time, yes?” Jisung nods shamefully, lips tight.

“Next rule, be a giver. Down the line you can find out whether or not she prefers it but to start, you wanna take charge and get your girl off.”

Jisung hums, his focus being the ever growing list on his phone-screen. Curious, Jeno peers over at him.

“A—are you seriously taking notes?” He furrows his brows at the open tab in Jisung’s notes app.

“Hey, he’s a diligent learner!” Donghyuck waves a warning finger towards Jeno before turning to reassure Jisung. “Don’t worry, Jisung, the best students study.”

He addresses his older friend’s defense of him briefly, already having questions about the lesson. “When we say… get her off— what do you mean?”

“Eat her out, Jisung.” Chenle interjects flatly.

“Oh.” Jisung’s head bobs slowly. “And how do I do that?”

The “teacher” sucks his teeth, “Christ, do we have to teach you everything?”

Jisung just blinks in response, earning a tired sigh from Donghyuck, “I’ll send you some material after class.”

“Okay.” Jisung nods.

“Third rule! Take it slow. Kind of ties back into rule one but can be used elsewhere. Listen, I know you’re a bit of a fumbling mess but at least try and make it seem like you know what you’re doing.”

Despite the directed jab, Jisung continues to diligently jot down Donghyuck’s advice.

“What does ___ like, do you know?” Mark pipes.

“Sexually?” The boy’s eyes go wide, a bit startled.

Mark snorts, “I’m not asking for her favorite food, man,”

Jisung breathes out a sheepish laugh, “Ah, well, she’s kinda sensitive around the ears…”

Donghyuck claps, startling Jisung but effectively grabbing his attention, “Alright, involve that! Kiss, lick, suck for all I care. You gotta do something that’ll turn her on, you can’t just whip your dick out and stop there, got it?”

“Got it.” Jisung re-affirms, intently copying down every word that leaves his friends’ mouths.

“Well, I think that’s enough for today,” Donghyuck nods, clearly proud of himself.

“Thank god.” Jaemin sighs exasperatedly, earning himself a warning look from Donghyuck. The latter rolls his eyes, smiling at Jisung who overviews what he’s learnt so far.

“You seem like you picked up well, I’ll quiz you after you watch the material.”

Jeno snorts, “You do know you’re not an actual teacher, right?”

Donghyuck smugly smirks, propping his hands onto his hips.

“Don’t be a hater, Jen’. If you want a lesson, you can just ask. Don’t think I forgot about what Iseul said— agh!” Swiftly, Jeno starts strangling Donghyuck to cut him off, the ladder dramatically flopping on the couch behind him and taking the older boy with him.

Using the commotion to his advantage, Renjun swoops in to take a seat next to Jisung, who quietly reviews his notes in the midst of the chaos.

“And Jisung,”

“Hmm?” The younger glances up from his notes.

“Don’t forget that the reason we’re here is because ___ likes you. Not what you can do for her in bed or any tricks these idiots are telling you to do…”

“Ah, okay.”

“I mean, we all mean well— even Donghyuck— but what matters most is that you’re yourself. That’s what ___’s most attracted to, right?”

“Yeah, I guess…” Jisung answers hesitantly.

“Right. Maybe you should watch that video Donghyuck sends you, though.” Renjun suggests a bit quieter, though his urgency remains evident.

Jisung laughs at his older friend, nodding in understanding. “Will do!”

V. ACT TWO

The next you spend genuine alone time with Jisung is two weeks following the whole incident, you’re grateful that he’s grown comfortable again with skin-ship. Missing nights like these where you two were able to wordlessly cuddle up together without an evident damper hanging over the room. Of course, you’d love to address that night. Maybe even give it another try but unless Jisung makes it clear that he’s comfortable with it, you suppress any and all thoughts about it.

Much to your liking, the night carried on like usual. No roommates to interrupt your skinship, or to witness the chaste kisses you gave each other. But in the midst of watching the second film Jisung had gladly let you choose— you realize just how touchy he’s getting.

A typical reserved hand that would be perched on your hip was playing with the hem of your shorts, igniting the bare skin with every brief graze.

Curious, you angle your head upwards on Jisung’s shoulder, immediately drawing his attention from the screen and down to you.

“You okay?” You inquire, an eyebrow raising. You tried to hide your excitement but the grin that found your features was an obvious giveaway that you were losing.

Jisung simply hums, his hands still stationed in their new territory. You nod, “Okay…” and instinctively crane your head up to signal a kiss.

Quickly, Jisung obliges, meeting you halfway and connecting your lips. Your intent was for it to be just like the other kisses that happened tonight. Quick, sweet, no alternative intent, but that was clearly not Jisung’s shared intention.

When you depart, he follows, and you have no problem in giving him what he wants. The kiss is extended, the hand on your thigh tightening in grip. You match Jisung’s vigor, equally biting at his lips and easing your tongue in his mouth when his own licks at your entrance. But you have to say you were not expecting this.

Soon, Jisung’s body was angled nearly on top of you and he showed no signs of stopping. Both hands now on your waist as he titled you backwards, still intently keeping your mouths fixed together.

“Oh, hello?” You manage to get out.

“Hi.”

Jisung takes control, which is very unusual since typically you’ll straddle him when making out. But you allow it to happen, your back meeting the bed as Jisung kisses you passionately. This kiss is much different than one you’ve ever shared with him, normally he’s way more reserved— even before your first time he was shy, but obviously a fire has been lit under him to redeem himself.

You’re the first to pull away, not moving far but just enough to be able to catch your breath. Jisung has never kissed you speechless before, but you’re okay if this was to become your new reality.

“Jisung…”

He ignores you, kissing down your neck while his large hands grope you. He's hungry, his teeth grazing against your skin in rotation with his suckling but his bruises still feel like heaven— you didn’t even know he was capable of leaving such marks.

Jisung’s cold hands are suddenly under your shirt, lifting the large garment that once belonged to him over your naked breasts. One of them even snaking down to your thin sleep shorts while the other remains to thumb at your now perked nipples.

“Oh— Jisung, wait!” Pausing your pleasure to confront your boyfriend.

He looks at you in surprise, as if he’s been caught doing something wrong.

“Are you sure about this?” You ask carefully.

“I wanna make you feel good…” he replies as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, you blink— slowly gathering yourself as Jisung continues to kiss down your abdomen and eventually to the center of your legs.

You stutter when you feel his hot breath on your core, it’s been so long you’ve had anything like this, you hate to say you’ve been waiting on it but fuck— you have been.

“Ji…” your hand cups the back of his nape, the other replacing his hand that once toyed with your chest.

Jisung gazes up at you, a look that reads that he’s asking you for permission. He quickly drinks up how he’s got you, shirt pushed to your over your breasts— leaving them on display, you look down at him— almost pained while you wait for his next move, lip tucked in between your teeth— a thumb to your own nipple.

Final inch of resolve snapping, Jisung flattens his warm tongue over your sleep shorts, humming instantaneously when his muscle meets the fabric. It’s lewd but he can’t help himself, especially when he encounters the already wet stain in the seat of your bottoms. He quickly gets to work, though, savagely his tongue ravishes you with one measly layer keeping him from fully tasting you.

The sight is one to see, your routinely sweet and respectful boyfriend with his head between your legs— tongue lapping and dancing around your cunt through your shorts.

You can barely take anymore, you need him. You didn’t care what his level of skill was, you needed more stimulation than this.

Jisungs jumps back a bit when you sit up to interrupt him, the shorts being slipped off. “Ji, please, please, keep going,” both of your legs are back on either side of his head, this time your bare, silky cunt on full display. No longer hidden by the baby blue bottoms.

You’re practically begging, your hips involuntarily shifting closer and closer to Jisung’s face as you wait. Jisung couldn’t believe his eyes, you’ve never really begged for him before. Not like this, so vulnerable. His tent had pitched ages ago but the strain he felt watching you now was a different kind of pain.

His newfound confidence falters a bit, wordlessly nodding up at you with wet eyes before obediently lapping at your cunt again. You throw your head back as a whimper rips through you, shifting back onto your elbows to play with your chest again. Not forgetting to keep one hand anchored in Jisung’s hair.

His movements are cautious at first, proving that this is definitely his first time but once he finds a pace that seemingly fits you best, he carries on with it. He alternates between sucking your throbbing clit to dipping his tongue deeper in your folds to tongue at your hole. You’d ask him where he learned that from but you’re too caught up with how good it feels that the question burns out on your tongue.

Before you know it, you’re close to coming already. With it being so long since you've had this, paired with the uncontrollable moans Jisung emits as he restlessly laps up all your juices, you can’t take much more.

“Fuck, Jisung. I’m close…”

Jisung hums, unaware just what that does for you. You whine pulling his hair tighter, in return it’s his turn to whimper. It’s uncomfortable, as he’s realized from the past times you’ve tugged his hair but he would never stop you.

“God, please don’t stop,” With Jisung’s locks entirely in your grasp, you can’t stop yourself from grinding your cunt upwards. Jisung takes a beat to adjust but realizes what you want, he shifts down a bit. The tip of his nose giving your clit the friction it so desperately desires while his tongue draws sloppy circles around your entrance.

You groan, the knot in your stomach tightening. You’re almost intelligible with your blubbering but Jisung manages to make out that you’re— in fact— about to come.

Jisung takes what he’s learned from his lessons and even earlier from this encounter and lets his tongue dip in and out of your hole faintly, giving you little stimulation that leads you closer while you grind on his face.

His quick shift leads your orgasm to come crashing down on you. Jisung’s face is pulled flush to your pussy as you come but he could care less, he watches keenly with wide eyes as you lurch upward, riding his face until you finally come down completely.

His room is still for a moment but Jisung is so absolutely enthralled with the moment and how he’s just made you unravel before him. Gluttonous, he doesn’t wait much longer before he’s dipping back into your folds. Lapping at you and especially your hole, he feels like a madman. The taste of you sends shivers down his spine, your surprised noises only egging him on.

“Oh my god, Ji! Wait, wait, oh,” the intrusion of Jisung’s middle finger is completely foreign but welcomed.

Where the hell was he learning this all from?

Jisung continues to work you open, never neglecting your folds and clit for a moment.

“Ji, if you don’t stop,” you shudder, trying to gather your bearings. “I’m gonna come.”

“Want it,” he moans against your pussy. “Do it again for me, pretty.”

It feels as if you’ve been thrown into the Twilight Zone. Never has Jisung said your nickname in such a tone, so deep and dripping with lust. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, taking your mind off his dual stimulation for just a moment.

With the addition of Jisung’s lengthy digit that now pops in and out of you, it doesn’t take long for your second orgasm to hit, you cry out for your boyfriend again— this time instinctively begging for some control. But your pleas fall on deaf ears, it’s like he’s dead set on keeping his face between your legs, it’s becoming too much at this point. If you two were gonna do this, you wanted him to get something out of it too.

“Fuck, Jisung, too much!”

Jisung snaps from his reverie, all of his ministrations drawing back with his head peeking from between your thighs in concern. You’re finally able to catch your breath, smiling down at him to quell his apparent anxiety. Shyly, he smiles back.

He clears his throat, “Are you okay?”

You laugh at this, still struggling to stabilize your breathing while your body pulsed with what could either be desire or exhaustion. “I am. Better than ever, actually. Are you?”

“Mhm. I uh— I didn’t hurt you or anything?”

“No, Ji, I just don’t think I’d be able to take another orgasm just yet.”

“Oh, okay.” He nods.

You giggle at him, how insane was it that he completely left you dumbstruck on two separate occasions just seconds ago and was acting all reserved the next.

“C’mere,” you open up your arms to him. He rushes to you. Giving you what you want and joining your lips. He's completely unaware just how wet his face is until it’s on your’s and he finds it a bit embarrassing.

But you don’t falter at all, instead kissing him deeply while your hands unmistakably find the boner hitched in his sweats.

Jisung stutters, physically jolting out of the kiss. “Uh, do you wanna move onto that so soon?”

“Well, I don’t want to be the only one who gets off. That’s not fair to you, is it?”

“I’ll be happy as long as you’re satisfied…”

“Ji,” you wipe away your juices that have gathered on his chin.

“Hmm?”

“I’m only satisfied when I know you are too, now, strip.”

Jisung nearly lets a ‘yes, ma’am’ slip from his throat before he hurriedly slips off his clothes. You laugh at how cute he is, removing your own shirt.

“Now, boss, how do you wanna do this?”

“Uh— however you want—“

“Jisung.”

He sighs at the call of his name from your lips, gulping as you stare up to him. “How about… on your stomach?”

“Oh? You don’t want to see my pretty face, hmm?”

“No! I mean, of course I do! You don’t have to—“

“Ji, baby, I’m fucking with you. I’d love to.” with that you roll over, grabbing one of Jisung’s pillows before slipping it under you.

“Oh.” Jisung sighs, the sight of you obeying him and propping yourself up effectively sending more strain to his member.

“Well don’t stop now, come on,” you reach a hand back for Jisung to grab. He obliges, walking to the edge of the bed, and grabbing your hand. He recalls this position from the couple of ”study materials” Donghyuck had sent and he joins you on the bed, shuffling on his knees till his cock hovers your ass.

You shift under him, hiking your ass higher to encourage him to stick his length in. He takes the message and grips his cock, he doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard before.

When he finally lines himself up and sinks inside of you, he hisses while you whimper. Jisung’s hands are practically godsend but nothing, and you mean nothing compares to his dick. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since your first time. And always found yourself a tad bit disappointed whenever he would turn you down following it.

“Fuck, Ji, you’re so big, baby,” you groan, trying to adjust as his heavy cock continues to stretch you open.

Jisung can only huff, holding onto his last ounce of control. He's about to come, he can feel it. His hips still, knowing if he moves anymore he’ll end up spoiling this again.

“Oh, please keep moving,” you whine, taking matters into your own hands and pushing your hips back to pick up where he has left off.

“Shit, ___, wait—“ Jisung braces his broad hands against your back, stilling you for a moment. Your head cranes back, concerned but still evidently in need.

“I— I’m about to come…” he speaks weakly, almost as if he’s embarrassed. Which he absolutely is.

You pout, confused with his display of shame.

“That’s fine, baby. Just don’t stop, please, I need you.” The sound of you begging while continuing to grind your ass on his cock sends Jisung absolutely reeling. His eyes squeeze shut, sighing heavily before allowing you to meet him halfway. Your own movements make you purr in delight, you continue to grind against him, and Jisung finds his hips moving too.

He snaps into you, chasing your cunt when you pull away. You moan in surprise, Jisung finally melting and leaning down to stabilize himself as his hips find a shallow pace.

He groans, hiding his flustered face in the junction of your shoulder.

“___…” Jisung pants.

“It’s okay, you can come, fuck, come for me, baby…”

It takes one sharp thrust before Jisung completely loses himself, releasing an almost pained groan into your neck. He continues to jaggedly move in and out of you while you feel him release himself in you, his load spurting along your walls and escaping onto the surrounding areas.

You helplessly moan at the feeling, a bit disappointed when your boyfriend’s eager hips cease to a stop.

“Hmm. Feel better?” You lilt, propping your chin on your shoulder to get the best glimpse of him.

Jisung shudders, breathing out a small laugh. “Yeah, I— sorry…”

“It’s okay, babe. Now, pull out.”

“Hmm? Oh, right!” He heeds to your directions, easing out of you but not without some slither of sadness. He had done it again. Sure, he made you cum but he barely lasted a few minutes inside of you like he had hoped.

Promptly, you shuffle onto your back, cracking your legs open. Shocked, Jisung’s gaze drops to your cunt, now messily decorated with a glistening mix of his semen, saliva, and your own cum.

“You didn’t think that was it, did you?”

Jisung blinks because he absolutely thought you two were finished for the night. You chuckle, hooking your legs around Jisung’s thighs.

“I’m not done with you just yet, Ji’…”

It’s hard for Jisung to shield his excitement, gladly positioning himself in front of you. He grips himself to align with you once again, allowing his other hand to plant by your head.

He could die right now and be absolutely satisfied, Jisung thinks as you suck him back in your walls. His face hovers your own, watching intently as your features scrunches in pleasure.

Quickly adjusting to the sensation of him stretching you out again, you take note of how statuesque he is,“Move, babe.” You gently remind.

“Right, sorry—“ Jisung takes a moment to laugh at himself, garnering an endeared smile from you.

Your hands extend up to hold his face. “No more apologizing, okay?” Jisung nods along with you in response, his heart swelling at your tender act of affection despite him being several inches inside of you.

“Okay, sor— ahem, okay…” you giggle at his immediate slip up, and Jisung arranges his hips in a way that instantly takes your mind off of it, starting to rock into you once more, now both having climaxed once (or twice, in your case)— sensitivity strikes you both but there’s no way that was gonna stop either of you.

“Feel so good,” you hum.

“Yeah?” Jisung asks, innocently, keeping his rhythm as sound as possible.

“Mhm. Don’t stop, okay?”

“I won’t.” Jisung solidifies, finding confidence in being able to see your face and how you visually react to his movements. His hips begin to reel back a greater distance, snapping into you with a fervor that leaves you crying for more.

The obscene sound of Jisung’s thighs repeatedly crashing into your own fill the room, paired with the whine of his name from your lips and the sploshing sound of the wetness between your legs.

Unfortunately, Donghyuck’s voice echoes in his mind, but for good reason. Removing himself from your hold a bit, Jisung leans down to start pecking your ear.

You hum in satisfaction, shuddering under him.

He knew you well, he could still recall the first time he accidentally grazed the area of your ear with his lips. You lurched away with embarrassment washing over you but he had found it to be one of the cutest things in the world. Not many things could pacify you like that, but a little love to your ear did.

You arch yourself into your boyfriend when his tongue darts out of his mouth to flick the shell of your ear, your new positioning encouraging the depth of Jisung’s length. It doesn’t help that Jisung has found his pacing, a mind-numbing repetition of the head of his cock grazing the precise spot that leaves your vision spotty with stars.

“Shit, M’gonna come,” you aimlessly exclaim, the strength you’d usually have to filter your thoughts from useless babble existing no longer.

Jisung hums, continuing to lap at your ear, taking Donghyuck’s nonchalant advice and running with it. You gasp in elation when you feel Jisung suckle at your ear, nipping it before it leaves his mouth.

“Fuck, who taught you this?” Restless, you bring his face back to meet yours, you find your boyfriend’s pupils completely blown out and eyes lidded heavily. You trace his furrowed eyebrows to his parted puffy lips.

Jisung leans down, your inquiry not reaching him whatsoever. Your lips meet and you whimper into the kiss, it’s wet and noisy. Your muscles searching for the best taste of each other.

Your third orgasm was barrelling towards you quickly, and you find yourself looking for anything to give you stability. Mindlessly, your hand traces the distance from Jisung’s face to one of his hands that remains planted on the bed beside you.

Without a second thought does he intertwine your fingers, pressing your joined palms into the mattress as he begins to lose momentum.

“Please keep going,” you wail. ”I’m gonna come.”

Jisung nods, his lips tucked between his teeth as he tries to keep himself together for you. He watched you contort and writhe in pleasure, now becoming familiar with your body’s pattern before a climax.

Your free hand travels to Jisung’s broad back, leaving traces of yourself with savagely placed scratches. He winces, the sting of your fingernails against his back throwing him off but simultaneously driving him to keep going. His own features scrunching to alert you that he himself was close to snapping.

“Ah, please, please—!” You whine, bracing yourself, deliberately pulling Jisung flush to you the best you could to milk to most friction out of him as possible. Your shallow yank is enough to have the large man toppling over and on top of you.

The desired stimulation of your clit grazing against Jisung is enough to coax your next orgasm out of you. You cum, angling your hips to take as much as Jisung could still offer. It doesn’t take long for him to be right there with you, whining while his hips buck aimlessly into you. Your sounds are equal in desperation, both racing to chase your highs.

“Oh.” Your hands aid Jisung’s hips toward you as he continues to release his seed inside of you until he finally fully collapses onto your body.

Serenity returns to Jisung’s room, the pair of you well past the point of exhaustion to move an inch. Jisung, seemingly coming to, is the first to move (much to your dismay). He grunts, peeling himself from your sticky with sweat body and peering down at you for a moment.

It lingers, his study of you. And typically, he was the one who would shy away from such intense eye contact but you find your eyes flitting away first. You’ve never had someone be so engrossed with you, with your satisfaction, so worried with pleasing you.

Jisung breathes out a laugh, “What?”

“Nothing.” You shake your head, equally as giddy.

“You’re shy?”

“No,” you suck your teeth, fighting the smile that threatens to give you away, “just wanna know why you’re staring…”

“Mm. Is staring at my pretty girlfriend so wrong?”

“…Hmm,” you pause as if you’re thinking for a moment. “No. I guess not.” You shrug.

“Good.” Jisung bends down to peck your lips before fully removing himself from on top of you. He sighs when his back flops on the bed beside you.

“Okay but seriously, where the hell did all of that come from?”

Jisung chuckles at the urgency in your voice, shifting to lay on his side. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you…”

“Pfft. After tonight I think I’m more open to any possibilities…”

“Hmm… okay, it was Donghyuck.” Jisung admits bashfully.

Immediately does your mouth gape open in absolute disbelief. “No fucking way.”

“See!”

“Donghyuck—? He taught you all of that?!”

“Well, I studied and kind of just… went with the flow I guess?” Jisung shrugs as if it’s nothing.

“Wow. For a second there I was scared he gave you one-on-one lessons…”

“Woah,” Jisung blinks, shocked that you precisely assumed what he had purposefully left out of the exchange. “Believe it or not, he tried.”

“I believe it,” You giggle, the ridiculous image flashing in your mind and leaving just as quick as it came.

“I guess I have to give him his flowers then.” you sigh, a hand extending to brush away Jisung’s fallen fringe so you can fully see his face. He fights a smile back, helping you by sweeping his hair back.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… I don’t think I have to tell you how great you were.” You snort, gesturing to your tired body. Jisung gladly follows your gaze, admiring your bareness once more.

Jisung hums, throwing an arm around your damp abdomen to tug you closer into him. You wordlessly oblige, sighing contently when your skin meets his again.

“Well, I think you were the star.” Jisung comments softly, his face now in your neck.

You coo silently, instinctively placing a hand on his jaw. “As much as I’d like to take credit, I can’t,” Jisung’s gaze shifts to your face when you tilt his head up.

“Not when you helped me through three orgasms.”

You peck your boyfriend’s lips as a form of punctuation. Though, you’re not able to drift far since Jisung’s mouth chases your own, deepening your once innocent kiss. You’re tired and your lips are beyond bruised but you just can’t help yourself. The way he hums from underneath you only intensifies your need for him.

While your mouth moves against his with conviction, tonguing at his lips to allow you more freedom, he finds his hands gravitating to your hips to give him some stability. Jisung sighs discontentedly when your lips disconnect, his eyes remaining shut for a beat before fluttering back open.

“Well, how do you feel about a fourth?” Jisung proposes carefully, though his expression shows that he’s clearly desperate for your agreement and for your lips to return to his own.

Quickly, your eyes widen in astonishment. “Really? Are you sure—?” Your worries are cut short by Jisung’s mouth. It’s short but effective in getting his point across.

He pulls away, an amused smirk on his face. “I’m sure.”

“Okay,” you giggle, finding yourself incredibly aroused by Jisung’s newfound confidence. You would certainly have to thank Donghyuck in some way for this abrupt change in your boyfriend’s behavior, unfortunately.

“Well let's not waste time then…”

© jigueminunbich 2024

[kykyonthemoon]

Rain On The Way Home

Zayne takes you home after an argument between the two of you.

ಇ. Zayne x Reader/MC

ಇ. Tags & warnings: since there's a bit spicy at the end I shall put 16+, MDNI here, fluff, short and sweet, kiss and make up, making out, argument, hurt/comfort, established relationship, character might be a bit ooc idk.

ಇ. Word count: ~1k9

ಇ. Based on a request by YNhi.

ಇ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic

Your lips were pursed tightly. Hands placed on your thighs were clenched so tightly that you could feel the nails digging into your skin. You did your hardest to keep back the tears that threatened to fall, but failed. Warm drops dripped on the back of your hands, and you brushed them away as soon as you noticed a familiar figure approaching from afar.

Zayne opened the car door and sat in the driver's seat. He did not glance at you or say anything. You turned entirely to face the window, observing the soft drizzle fall outside. All you wanted to do was kick the car door open, run out into the rain and scream your lungs out.

The atmosphere between the two of you had never been this stuffy. You could have left alone, but because your body was injured and your emotions were all over the place, you lacked the strength to oppose Zayne's decision. So you let him do anything he wanted. Perhaps that was best for both.

Just a second ago, you fought to reject him and ended up sitting here with bitterness in your heart, allowing him to take you home, allowing him to control you like a puppet again.

The third time you had been hospitalized in one short month, you had also reached Zayne's limit.

People at the hospital claimed that when Dr. Zayne was upset, he became quite frightening. They thought he would explode and anyone unlucky enough to get in his way would suffer. On the contrary, Zayne's rage was like a blizzard on the horizon. You might believe it would not find you, but when it did, no matter where you hid, you would never be secure. 

And that day, for the first time ever, Doctor Zayne was seen losing his usual composure.

His lengthy and fast steps resembled racing through long and busy corridors. The hospital room door opened in such a way that it was about to come off its hinges. Zayne's face solidified. Without a word, he confiscated your medical documents and commanded everyone to go, in such a frightening manner that the nurse caring for you had to shiver from the cold after leaving.

Zayne looked at the documents and then at the wound on your shoulder. It was treated in time but remained painful. The injury had left you quite weak, but after nearly a day of medical care, what distressed you the most was Zayne's attitude.

Before he could say anything, you spoke up and explained:

“It was just an incident… It wasn't like I took the initiative to accept this mission. It's just that there were no other Hunters closer to the attack area than I was…”

“That's why, despite the fact that you hadn't completely recovered and were resting, you hurried to the scene, dismissing your prior injuries. Dismissing your doctor's orders?"

One corner of the file in Zayne's hand was so tight that it became wrinkled when he let go and threw it hard on the nearby table. He turned his back on you and looked out the window. One hand on his hip, the other hand to bury his face. He acted as if he was trying his best to retain the last bit of composure. 

"I'm fine." You said. "I honestly felt no discomfort. I have been able to move properly for a week now. Staying at home constantly is boring. I needed to stretch a little so I could get back to work quickly."

Zayne slowly turned around to look at you. He was still standing in the corner of the room, and you noticed the window glass behind him starting to freeze. 

“You were bored? If you feel bored, call your friends. If you feel bored, go shopping or hang out where you like to go. You were bored so you decided to jump right into a group of Wanderers?"

“Zayne…” You grimaced. “I don't like you this way… You… are acting so strange…”

“Do you think I'd like to see you lying here? Do you think I'd like to see you being carried to the hospital?"

"I'm sorry…" You murmured. You knew it was you to blame for not listening to him and instead running to the scene of the attack. But you were conscious of your own strength and wanted to fulfill the commitment you made when you decided to become a Hunter.

"You've said sorry for the third time this month." Zayne responded. His face was rigid, yet his fists were clasped firmly. "I've heard enough."

"Oh, just quit it!" You abruptly raised your voice. "I told you I didn't like you acting this way. As a Hunter, it's normal for me to get hurt!"

Zayne opened his eyes wide. He was astonished by your response. He stayed silent so you could pour out your feelings.

“I am capable of taking care of myself! I don't like being told what to eat or drink. I don't like being told what time I must  go to bed. Or being compelled to stay at home even though I have completely recovered and ready to battle! I'm not a child for you to order around, or tell me to do this and that!”

“You're saying, I'm too controlling over you?”

“I…” You halted. It seemed that was true. Even while you knew Zayne had good intentions and genuinely cared for you, you were unable to avoid feeling as if he was in charge of every part of your life, controlling every meal and sleep. 

"Understood."

Silence permeated the hospital room for a long moment. Zayne gazed at you as if he was considering something, then he started to pack up your clothes and belongings that remained in the room.

“What are you doing?” 

Zayne responded: “I don't want to be the one who controls you. You will be discharged from the hospital and free to do as you please.”

“What do you mean by that?” Free? It sounded like he did not care about you anymore. It sounded like he was going to give you your freedom back by not getting involved in anything related to you anymore.

“I will not force you to stay here. No one can do that. In roughly ten minutes, someone will come and take you to my car. I only ask you to do this for me once more.”

Having said that, Zayne turned and left. The door closed behind his broad back and you swore you were about to cry right from that moment.

The nurse came to inform you that Dr. Zayne had directly requested your discharge from the hospital. They let you go since your situation was not too serious and they believed Zayne would care for you discreetly at home. Zayne waited for you in the parking lot. He unlocked the door for you to enter first and returned to fetch a few more medical supplies before driving you home.  

All along the way, you kept wondering if you had made a big mistake. You were exceptionally disrespectful and became frustrated with Zayne for no reason. However, he did not give in to you as he always did. Confused, you simply wanted to lie down on your pleasant mattress at home and weep loudly. However, as the car came to a halt in front of your flat, Zayne refused to let you get out.

You turned to look at him. He looked exhausted and miserable. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, then your eyes met for a moment. You were the first to break that connection.

"I'm home now. Can I leave yet? Or do I still have to wait for your permission?"

"Just stay a little more." Zayne's deep voice rang out. He was considerably more relaxed now than he had been previously. "I'm sorry…"

That was the first time you had heard an apology from him. How strange! Usually, you were the one making trouble, and Zayne was the one who looked after you. You were the one who said sorry. Hearing those words coming out of his mouth made you feel so odd.

“I'm sorry if I become too controlling and that makes you feel uncomfortable.”

You were astonished for a second. You still wanted to weep, but your emotions had settled down considerably.

Zayne slipped his hand down from the steering wheel to seize yours and turned it over. He said:

“When I saw you almost unconscious from the poison, being carried into the hospital room, my heart seemed to stop beating. That is not something I want to see at all.”

Zayne's eyes were quite sorrowful. You subconsciously imagined that if you switched roles and the injured person was him, you definitely would not be able to remain calm in such a situation.

“I know you can take care of yourself,” Zayne continued. “But I still want to help you do that and protect you. In my own way.”

After he finished speaking, there was a moment of calmness. The street lights were illuminated, and the rain stopped pouring. You softly clutched his hand.

“I'm sorry too, because what I said was not true… I didn't mean to call you a dictator who controls this relationship…”

You smiled at him. The corners of Zayne's lips also loosened somewhat. He took your hand and tenderly pressed a kiss on.

“I'm really okay.” You added. “The doctor also said that the poison from the Wanderers had been purified. I don't feel too much pain anymore."

Zayne gave a slight nod. He understood this from the moment he read your record. That was why he boldly asked for you to be discharged from the hospital. Even though he was upset, your safety would come first in any case.

"You said you were fine?" Zayne inquired out of the blue. "How do you prove it then?"

You exhaled. After all, he still had reservations about your ability to care for yourself. You leaned in to offer him a passionate kiss. The resentment in your heart melted away in his warmth.

As your lips withdrew from Zayne's, he whispered:

"Good enough. However, in the future, if there is an issue between us, or if you are dissatisfied with something I do,... can I trust you to talk to me directly about it?"

You gave a modest nod. Zayne kissed you, deep. He caressed you but only so gently, as if afraid that you would melt into rain bubbles if he became too greedy. A while later, perhaps since your head was hazy from the injury, you had no clue how you ended up sitting on top of Zayne in the driver's seat, your lips locked with him while your hands constantly touching his flesh underneath the shirt. His delicate but searing kisses fell on your shoulder, around the bandaged area that had just been revealed to his sight as he pulled your shirt down. He kissed your wounds, new and old. He asked softly, would you feel pain if he touched them? And you replied that there was only pain if he did not do so.

Rain began pouring again; it might last all night long. How convenient, since he did not intend to let you get out of the car in such a condition.

[romanoffsbish]

Method Acting

Scarlett Johansson x F!R

Request | When your friend gives you the leading role in her debut sapphic rom-com you find yourself elated, but then you see who her star-studded casting managed to be and suddenly you aren’t too sure what to do. How does one work with their crush in such intimate ways and not swoon further? | WC: 2,516

Smut: Masturbation (R) — Non-con 👀 (SJ) | Mommy (SJ) | Oral / Fingering (R) | Thigh-Riding (SJ) | Overstimulation (R)

18+ | Minors DNI

"Where'd all that confidence go, hm?" You gulped, not only to remain in character, but because Scarlett was literally hovering over your body and it was like the air around you'd thinned. Your head felt light, but you still managed to stutter out your line, "I-It was a r-ruse."

Bentley chuckled, "You know, I don't think I mind," then she lowered her smirking face into the crook of your neck, your breath dramatically hitched, and you threw your head back to give her the necessary space to leave behind her pale pink gloss for the camera to see.

——

This was meant to be acting, but she wasn't exactly not sucking a partial mark into your skin, fortunately it was hidden from any lens viewpoint, and it only really added to the scene as you moaned out affectedly.

"There you go Raina," she rasped against your cheek, smearing her collected spit and gloss on the skin. "I knew you'd be a perfect little dove for your mommy, you just needed me to help dumb you down, hm..."

You whimpered the title inquisitively, giving off the characters innocent girl aura as her lips clashed into yours, but deep in your soul you wanted to scream it.

Well, for the blonde starlet that is, Scarlett was nothing short of a goddess, her beauty perceivably effortless. It came with many perks, one of those being the ability to have people figuratively crumble before her. You had actually done so physically when you first shook her hand, it was embarrassing and she's teased you since.

When she wasn't teasing you though she was a natural nurturer. There was a calmness she brought to your anxious life that you were going to miss when filming inevitably comes to an end. Which was actually taking place this week, today you were working on the climax.

Bentley, her character, finally had a chance to corner Raina so that she could finally prove her love with the length of her fingers. Up until now your character had been avoiding Bentley as they were forced to see one another at the weekend long reception of a mutual.

Maritza, the director, screenwriter, and best friend of yours wanted the sex to feel real, so she is letting you two feel it out in a set of scenes. Scarlett appreciated the artistic creativity, because she wanted nothing more than to bring you to bliss, even if only fictionally as she knew the cameras were rolling. You genuinely liked the idea of an organic, sapphic scene too, but you just wished it could have been with any other actress.

Not the one you were recklessly falling in love with.

"Cut!" The director called after she felt there was enough tension, and kissing caught for the scene. She was also your very best friend, and knew you were likely spiraling beneath the surface; below Scarlett.

As soon as the director gave you the all clear for the night you took off without even sparing the blonde a glance. Months on this set with her and she'd teased you every step of the way, playing on your obvious crush, the one you'd publicized just a year ago.

"Y/N, who's your celebrity crush?" It was an easy question to answer, and since you were such a newcomer in the acting world it felt harmless to give them one, "Scarlett Johansson, she is just so gorgeous, and that voice of hers is just, ugh, don't even get me started." Or so you thought. Because not even three months later did you find out she'd be playing the love interest in this low-budget, cheesy sapphic rom-com.

The blonde was absolutely ecstatic when she got the script in her email because it came with your name attached. This was your closest friend's script, so you were given the lead without any issues, except for the casting. Without you ever knowing she took a shot in the dark by sending it to the woman who'd grown interested in you the moment she saw you in that interview. When you got the casting news you were mortified, and the blonde used that to her advantage.

There was no denying you meant it when she arrived on set for the chemistry read through, you were a bit of a stuttering mess—true to the character, but it was clear to the blonde that you were just being yourself. Scarlett played the part a bit too well, but she still kept it hidden that she desired you too. Until tonight she'd believed it was never going to go anywhere, but then you moaned in her ear and she realized it had to.

You weren't the only one affected by the small scene.

Scarlett was outside your trailer, her fingers flexed against the chill of the air as she prepared herself to knock on your door. It was Thursday night, normally she would go home, but she knew you were staying on the lot to cut costs so she felt compelled to stop by.

Without an answer she took it upon herself to open the door, noting her worry as the excuse for why she did. When she entered the trailer she was overwhelmed by a heady scent, and as she turned the corner to find you with your hand buried between your legs she'd found the delightful source. Scarlett said nothing as her body leaned against the wall, eyes focused in on the way your puffy lips devoured three of your fingers whole.

"Scarlett..."

The blonde's eyes snapped up to your face, fearing that she'd been caught, but it proved to be the other way around as you moaned her name upon releasing.

"My character's name is Bentley," she cooly teased, startling you into yelping and scrambling to grab the blanket that had bunched up by the end of your bed. Scarlett beat you to it, taking a predatory leap forward so that she could keep you from hiding your body. "None of that baby girl, don't hide from me now."

"S-Scar," you breathlessly muttered her name, or better yet part of it as she cupped your jaw and kissed you into a state of stunned silence. "Let's practice our scene for tomorrow darling, make it extra authentic."

"I-I don't think—." Scarlett slipped her thumb into your mouth, pressing down on your teeth to still you. "Oh, pretty girls like you should never try to think."

When she released her grip on your mouth she'd forcefully pushed you back onto the mattress, making your body bounce and driving your mind into madness all while she slipped out of her sweatsuit. The arousal you'd already felt doubled in intensity, mind alit with the endless possibilities for how this could go. Your mouth slowly filled with saliva as she sauntered closer to you while only dressed in her expensive lingerie set.

"You're so beautiful," you softly acknowledged and she offered you a genuine smile in return. Her lips gently pressed to yours as soon as she climbed over you and you both melted at the touch. "Thank you angel."

Scarlett took her time with kissing you, she didn't even move to deepen it until she felt your slick on her skin.

"I'm going to devour you Raina," she winked playfully and you met her tease with a smile that warmed her heart. "Make my dreams come true then Bentley."

Something about hearing her characters name didn't sit well with her, even if she had started the play on words, joking shoved aside she needed you to know this was more than a over the top scene preparation.

Scarlett pulled your body down the mattress by your ankles, throwing your legs open she took in a big whiff as her nose nuzzled into your plush thigh. "It seems I'll be making both of ours come true," she laboredly breathed against your slick cunt, "Just as long as you know there's no copyright on Scarlett," she winked and husked as your eyes widened, "Scream it for me Y/N."

"Oh Scarlett," you cried as soon as her tongue firmed itself against your folds, a long, drawn out moan left her as she tasted your glorious slick for the first time. The both of you were immensely pleased, your body began to squirm the more you felt your orgasm build. Her arm had to lay against your abdomen to hold you down so that her tongue could lash at you unchecked.

Your pleasure was entirely under her control, and the thought alone had the both of you teetering over the edge, ready to fall further into one another. Scarlett was unsure how that was even possible though, she'd loved you after a month into the filming, on a night when cast and crew rented out the local bar and she actually went regardless of her star power status. It was the only time you'd talked to her so openly, the booze in your system dropped your nerves and you let her hear all of your hometown childhood stories.

There was a twinkle of purity in your eye that she found refreshing that night, but this new glossy look you wore was far more enticing to the blonde starlet.

You looked almost peaceful, but beneath the surface you were absolutely losing your mind. Her masterful tongue was showing your fingers up in real time, your hot slick flowing out of you as if you were a leaking faucet, slowly dripping down from her chin and settling atop of the exposed skin of her bare breasts.

Which only made her move with more efficiency, her tongue slowly curled inside of you, caressing your g-spot as the tip of her nose pressed into your clit and you lost control of your every sense. Gasping for air as pleasure coursed through your trembling form, blurry white stars filled your vision as your eyes crossed and the taste of something metallic coated your tongue as you harshly bit down on your lower lip before you were screaming incoherently, her name sinfully intermixed.

You felt her smirk against your thigh and couldn't help but to smile yourself as you felt her kiss up your body with a softness that transcended all prior carnality. There was this break in the tension as she tenderly locked her lips to yours, tongues dancing around the other as her hands anchored to your chest, fondling the malleable skin as if it was second nature. Soft whines reverberated into her mouth the longer that she played with your sensitive breasts as she kissed you dumb.

Eventually the blonde felt this intense urge to satiate her own body, so she pulled back and you whimpered. "Fuck, you're so hot Y/N," she groaned as she stared at you, so beautifully spaced out, the thin line of spit tethering your lips together snapped as she grinned.

"You know, you're my celebrity crush too," she teased, finding amusement in the way you tried to shimmy away from her, but her hands firmly pressed down, keeping your body stilled by her grip on your breasts.

"Don't try and run now darling," she purred against your neck, her face having dipped down so that she could finish the job she started during your shoot.

"Scar, th-the movie," you warned but she simply didn't care, the woman chuckled against your skin, "Oh love, you know as well as I do that make up can cover this, plus, this is really just us aiding the film, you know?"

Scarlett continued on bruising your soft skin with her teeth as you couldn't, nor did you really want to, find a reason to dissuade her from her current ministrations. Just as soon as she was satisfied with her hard work she flipped you onto your stomach without warning.

A low moan left the both of you as her cunt touched down, your body shivered as her slick smeared onto the back of your thigh, the idea that you'd turned her on that much hadn't even permeated your mind until now and with the physical evidence you felt powerful. Even if she was on top, you aided her by tensing your muscles to which she rewarded you with a hoarse moan and two fingers that slid between your slick lips.

The both of your bodies moved in steamy tandem, your front being pressed further into the mattress with every rough thrust of her fingers and hips. The room soon became a lewd symphony as your skin slapped together and the both of your slick seeped and spread, all working to drown out your soft, choked moans.

With her free hand no longer on your hip you were thrown further into the depths of pleasure as her palm roughly pressed down on your abdomen just as her fingers reached your depth, your body jerked but she just kept going down until she could play with your clit.

"Mommy," you screamed the desired honorific, it almost sounded like a plea for mercy, but the blonde had none to show you, she instead slid a third finger into your core causing you to spasm uncontrollably. Which in turn tensed your muscles up even further, and sent her into a state of immense bliss, her teeth instinctively sunk into your shoulder and drew blood.

Her body had arched back then dropped to the side of yours in a matter of seconds, her fingers stayed buried within your warmth, almost like a place of comfort. It took you far longer than her to regain your composure as this was actually your fifth orgasm of the evening. The other two having happened before she caught you.

Nevertheless, you were able to form a sentence as you felt her fingers vacate your pussy, "W-what was this?"

Scarlett had been shifting to a place of comfort when your disconcerting question was aired, you caught her completely off guard but upon settling her cheek down on your bare ass she hummed softly in thought. Then as she really thought about it, imagining a future where you'd part ways after filming ended, she frowned.

"You're mine," she tiredly growled against the sweaty skin of your ass, her teeth nibbled at the round flesh as she gave you her answer (demand). "Then, now, the point is you'll always be mine Y/N so get comfortable."

"I'm plenty comfortable," you murmured, words a bit muffled as your face burrowed into your silky pillow. Scarlett smiled to herself, her heart officially settled now that she knows you understood; you were hers, this sinful endeavor was her official sealing of a deal.

Her worn down body sidled up by your side, still her strong arm wrapped around your midsection so that she could pull you close enough for her to feel your body against hers. "Goodnight baby girl, I think we've done enough work to ensure the scene will be a hit..."

—

When tomorrow came, and the scene was shot you two found it only took one go as the sexual chemistry was palpable. Maritza had winked, and mouthed a 'your welcome' thinking that you'd just won the blonde over, but unbeknownst to her this was just an encore...

Or as the sapphics would simply call it, round two.

[mermervi]

a christmas secret

✎ If you knew your boyfriend turned out to be such an asshole, you wouldn't even look at him in the first place. You'd have called off the engagement, of course, but you chose to stay for the sake of someone who sweetened your days and that someone is none other than your fiancé's brother. Leon. So how challenging can a family Christmas gathering be?

cw: MDNI, shameless smut, p in v, cheatingz!, unprotected segs goes hard ngl, bre3ding mayhaps, family drama aka kennedy family is the new kardashians, not proofread, sorry, praise kink, stomach bulge!, finger!ng, fem! reader, MDNI

find this work on ao3!

For Leon, this Christmas is overly festive, too much of an extravaganza. He has always hated family gatherings and has always been the type of boy who would retreat to his room after grabbing his share of the dishes his mother cooked for the house guests. No girls to bring home for his parents, no serious talks with them at all, and the concept of marriage has always been a total can of worms. For him there was Ada and the many nights he shared with her, nights of “oh, yeah. We fuck each other, and we don’t put a name to it.” This was more than enough for him but nothing to last forever.  

Until one day the tide completely turned the night he happened to meet you. He was quite surprised when he heard that his little brother, the one he thought was nothing but a good-for-nothing, had finally met “the one” a year ago. Quite frankly, all Leon could think of was a body mass with every known sexual disease in the world collectively stored in his nuts and sperm. Yes, he was clearly not very fond of his brother.  

He did, though, at the request of his father and mother, show up at last year’s get-to-know-the-new-girl-in-law dinner.  

And that was the night he saw you for the first time. The truth of the matter is you were far out of his brother’s league, along with the girls from all over the States, but Leon could only see an incapable man next to a pretty girl like you. Still, for the sake of pretending to be the good brother, he did the laughing and ate the food cooked that night. He pulled off a good Kennedy act, the best version of Kennedy his father could muster. Whatever his brother was, Leon was the opposite, and his father couldn’t have asked for anything more. He didn’t care what exactly was going on between his sons. The Dad of the Year, absolutely.  

Nobody could blame the old Kennedy. Leon was alright. Whatever. The other boy, however, is the equivalent of a child who was supposed to be jettisoned from the beginning and who, despite the condoms and the pills, was still accidentally conceived one night. He’s the headache itself. The only problem is that he has been so fucking blind to see this kind of unpleasantness and discomfort he has created for years. The guy lives in his own fantasy world.  

How he found someone like you is a veiled story behind the scenes.  

Leon really wanted to ask, quite a few times, but something stopped him, and the subject remained like a chest of unspoken family secrets. It went as far as getting your engagement with his brother.  

It was only a summer night when Leon found you crying alone by the pool outside the house that the tables were turned. The mother of your tears: his moronic brother. But why? Because he will never understand you. Thinking that you might actually find true love now seemed like a rookie mistake to you. So you cried. For Leon, it was just sad. Who knows how many times he had to comfort and sometimes even hug his brother’s female friends?  

Oh, and of course there was also the part of providing the most important detail that his brother was missing. Fucking those pretty girls. Hugs and heart-to-heart talks always led to the same thing. You, like the other girls, had found yourself in the same trap—the trap you had willingly walked yourself into—on top of him on a night of poolside fucking in a lounge chair. Doesn’t that make Leon an asshole? Perhaps, but at least Leon’s the kind of guy who has a sense of reverence for the women he sleeps with, whereas his brother... Well, Leon can’t find the right words in English for that guy.  

No beating around the bush, Leon wants the same thing tonight. The sex. Your sex. Why would he come to this stupid Christmas dinner anyway? For you, that’s the answer. Couple that with the fact that his job has kept him away from you for a couple of weeks—from the scattered things in life he likes to do—and you’ve got a man who’s been feeling peckish for many weeks.  

“Come on, big boy. Jus’ have a bite to eat.”  

Leon’s brother’s soused tones interrupt the eye contact between you and Leon, the one that has been covertly lingering on and off. He’s a piece of shit. It’s scarcely seven, and already he’s drunk as a doornail.  

Like a demented child, he leans over the table and brings his fork to Leon’s mouth, making artificial train noises in midair.  

“Now, now, my boy. Show me your mouth. Honk hooooooonk! Toot toot!”  

Your beloved fiancé forces the fork into Leon’s lips, which are pressed together to smooth matters over despite the sour expression on Leon’s face, as if he had just bitten into a lemon, and he doesn’t do much to hide it.  

At this point in your life, what could be more embarrassing than witnessing your fiancé doing this in front of all his relatives? And that’s coming from you—someone who usually doesn’t give a shit about relatives.  

Mercifully, Leon’s father saves the day when he raises a full glass of wine to draw the attention of the guests at the table to him.  

“Here’s to my beautiful family and to many happy years with them. With you guys. I love you all.”  

A sweet harmonization prevails around the table courtesy of this man. At least the eyes are where they should be, on the table, on the food, on whatever the good things are. What of your eyes? They are hunting for certain shades of blue, and when they locate them, the same kind of serene smile sits on his lips as on yours.  

Why is it that you feel so safe around him, but so bare around his brother and his kin? He’s their blood, but he acts just the way you always need him to be.  

Blending into your vista and turning the picture upside down, a red face suddenly intervenes between you and Leon. As it always does.  

“Heyyy.” He orates garishly and kisses your cheek.  

That’s not serious. Why must he butt his nose into absolutely everything? Sometimes you just want to throw away the ring and give a basket, then spit in his face and run like hell.  

Apart from the striking blue gaze, far away from Leon’s gaze, your fiancé’s attention is focused on you. More precisely, down your cleavage, or even exactly at the low-cut level.  

“What?”  

“What what what?” He’s parroting you, yammering.  

“Stop drinking like a horse and quit clowning around.”  

“Why? Tits the size of my head—”  

“Why don’t you shut your mouth? There are kids around. Screw you.” You look askance at him, but all to no avail. Yes, everything happens out of the prying eyes of the relatives—except for one person (Leon!), you and your fiancé are bickering at the mouths of each other. An outsider would even make a compliment about your idealistic relationship, saying something like—what a romantic lovebird these two are."

“Ha. Nice.” Your lover almost burps with a bitter taste on his tongue. In your face. “Huh. How about making them new cousins?” And as if his sobriety wasn’t already bad enough, he, of course, dares to dare to think about anything that pertains to his dick. What an idiot. Like he can even fuck you. This guy has been dead for some time. The alcohol does that shit, he says, but he’s always been all thumbs, dick down.  

“Get lost. Seriously. I’m on my period, anyway.” You lie, and within a split second your fiancé responds with a horrified scowl that is woven across his face like a tapestry. Of course you’re engaged to a misogynist and a guy who’s allergic to the subject of menstruation.  

“Yuck. No way. ‘m going to go now.”  

“What? Where to?”  

He stands up heedlessly, scrambling up the chair with the back of his shoe as you pelt him with a barrage of follow-up questions.  

“Hey, guys! I’m outta here.”  

He waves to everyone like a famous singer at a concert hailing his fans from the stage.  

This fucking guy...  

The assembled folks watch in silence for a spell as your fiancé staggers along in a drunken swagger. Even Leon watches him, and he knew from the moment he received the invitation that he was going to be subjected to such a moonstruck stunt. More or less, he could have guessed that the main character would be his stupid, dickhead of a brother.  

You try to recover from this situation with a short ha! of laughter without even letting the situation escalate into a real problem. “He’s too busy. Even on New Year’s Eve. Got... a call... from work. Yeah. He did—God. What a man. He makes me so proud.”  

What a shock.

Leon’s holding his laughter like it’s a sneeze at your eye-watering performance. Turns out everyone in this house who has or is about to have the last name Kennedy is always obliged to deal with the chaos created by that mindless pain in the ass. Tonight was no different from any other disaster, and Leon knows you’re a real Kennedy now.

“Yes, indeed. He’s just recently qualified. The boy is quite overwhelmed with business.” Mrs. Kennedy, sitting next to Leon and across from her husband, is quick to gloss over her young son’s asinine mistakes. It’s hard not to admire her as she does so. It’s her aura that speaks, not her, and it’s at that particular minute that you decide that some of Leon’s facial features descend from her. Like mother, like son.  

The table stills after another parental rescue drill. Not a bad kind of night, you might say. The conversation circulates. You make the acquaintance of people who aren’t so black and white. Turns out the Kennedy bloodline isn’t all bad, sort of. American as apple pie, Italian as... pizza?  

All this talking, socializing, and blah blah blah goes right through your social battery. That’s enough people and new faces. It wouldn’t hurt to venture out into the garden and catch some air. Maybe light a cigarette. You never know.  

Excusing yourself from the throngs of people, you finally step out of the back door of the kitchen through the patio door leading to the backyard.

The bracing air from yesterday’s foot-deep snow is wafting sweetly across your face. The ground beneath your feet is still dewy, and the caked snow sticks to your soles. Too much on your mind to give a crap. That stupid boyfriend of yours is the culprit of it all. Easy.

Raising the joint in your hand, you roll a cigarette and cradle it between your lips. You dig in your pocket for the lighter you think is in your dress pocket, but no luck so far.

Within a scant few seconds, the gentle gusts of breeze blow into waves of bone-chilling cold and spray your skin under the thin fabric of your dress. Silly you are. It’s a recipe for disaster to be going out in such weather without even putting on a single jacket.

You’re kicking yourself from the inside.  

Luckily, the sliding door behind you flings to the side. It’s none other than your soon-to-be brother-in-law. Squinting at you in the twilight, as if he’s judging you. Yes, yes, yes, yes. What a way to be out in the cold, damn it. He most likely will lecture you. You know the drill.

“Is this the way to go out in this cold, sweetheart?”  

Called it!  

You just shrug your shoulders, and Leon lines up next to you. He looks at the cigarette between your lips with a bogus hint of titter. “You know these things will kill you.”

What a wiseass.

As you flick your lighter, he takes off his brown jacket, which you think is new and pretty. He looks good with it.

Unexpectedly, the gesture is a small token from his heart. He slides the jacket over your shoulders, and you notice the flashes of sparkles that fill his eyes. Tonight, especially after yesterday’s bellowing of flaky snow, there is a distinctive gale in his eyes under the arch of the constellations and the blue-gray moon—like two small globes of blue-sky moon.  

“You must really like staring at me.”  

This man is a dab hand at deflecting attention with a comment that will definitely ruin the whole moment. It must be a family thing, you decide.  

“No, I’m surprised. Look at you looking like such a show-off. You’ll catch cold.” Your voice is laughable and blurred from the cigarette between your lips.  

“Don’t even think about it.”  

Just as you’re about to take the jacket off you and return it to his arms, Leon holds you by the arm and then intercepts you. Doesn’t take you seconds to register that you have been missing his touch all along in your memory. It’s so distant yet so fresh.  

The stillness of the night falls between you, leaving a familiar glow inside your bones—white and aurelian. It’s all the same to Leon. Moments like these are potentially precarious, and it’s usually Leon who does something to diffuse the situation in those peak seconds of emotional overload. Practical wit.  

He takes the lighter from the palm of your hand and with a few flicks, ignites the cigarette’s stub. His free hand instinctively cups around the bluish, wavering flame. He watches and waits until you take a drag — notwithstanding the sharp, burning wallop searing through his palm. Worth it, he figures. The agony in his hand is only temporary, a demising singe. Yet the fire inside you? That’s something else, something you both share. You’re burning in your lungs. He’s burning in his hand. Unquestionably, with an esoteric surrender. 

“Thanks.” You exhale away from him. In his case, Leon fiddles idly with the same lighter. He looks contemplative.  

Must be an acquired connotation to that expression on his face. Sometimes you really wonder what on earth is going on in his head. You would have sacrificed your fiancé to cut open Leon’s head and find out what’s going on inside his head during such hush-hush intervals, really. It wouldn’t be half bad. The world would be rid of a piece of shit, and eventually, you would have peeled back the layers and understood who Leon Kennedy really was.  

You raise your brow at him and grill him while he snatches the fag he robbed from your lips. He takes a long draw. By heart he knows the taste of your lips, all paper-wrapped and kissed.  

“Whatcha got there? Cherry lip gloss?”  

“Yup.” You hum in approbation, and now you watch the heady vapors drifting from his lips, frost-kissed red as fresh grains in a pomegranate against the biting cold.  

What is clear is that you both crave to be with each other. Why, Anna wants Vronsky like Vronsky wants Anna, like Vronsky has that mad, demeritorious longing for Anna. And for Leon, you’re what they might label that weird thing inside him.

“Come with me to the greenhouse. Now.”  

“What? N-now? The surge in your speech ripples, either from the cold or sheer astonishment.

With the last puff, Leon throws the cigarette on the snow-carpeted ground and treads on the glowing ash with the sole of his shoe. The next thing you know—  

He grabs you by the wrist and drags you behind him to the glass vestibule of his mother’s one and only conservatory. All this silence, all these initiatives are the signs that he has a master plot in his head, and you’re just getting the hang of it.

“This is insane. House is teeming with people. We... we should wait for them to sleep.”  

Your words make no sense, at least for Leon, and yes, they are sensible, but Leon’s a recalcitrant one. He’s straight in his head.  

“Oh, that’s it?” He lets you in and zooms out the door behind you. Naturally, he first snoops around to see if the place is empty or not. He doesn’t have to search every corner. The survival instinct that comes with his profession assures him that the place is pretty vacant from the moment he steps foot inside.

Your tentative steps are no different than trekking through a minefield. You trust him, but getting nabbed is always a contingency.

“Yeah. Fat chance, sweetheart. It’s now or never.” Leon whispers a brickbat, mimicking the way you croon your words when you feel imperiled. The two of you cross a lane, and Leon turns to you. Curling his fingers around the delineation of your waist, he lifts you onto a sturdy mahogany tabletop that his mother usually decorates with lovely flowers. Show off.  

“What if someone—”  

He heckles you obliquely with his index finger, pressing it just slightly to your lips.  

“I’ll be completely honest when I say this to you. Everybody knows that we’re fucking.”  

“They do?”  

Leon offers one affirmative shake of the head. “My dad and ... my mom... well, she knows everything.”  

“Christ.”  

How much more scandalous information can Leon reveal about his family, you ponder, as your darling brother-in-law rucks the hem of your dress up and you, with what must be muscle memory, spread your legs apart to give him more room to do his thing.

“I knew it.”  

He makes a subtle jab at the sheer wetness staining the frilly seam of your panties. Inoffensive, alright. Call a spade a spade; you’ve been sitting wet from the very beginning of the evening—or rather, from the second you glanced in Leon’s direction. Kind of like a stupid baby who peed her pants.  

“You’re wet, missy.”  

Don’t mind your panties skimming down to your ankles, just around your heels.  

His touch, the one you have been yearning for, sinks into you in two fingers, scissoring your pussy with his middle and ring finger, and your heart nearly pops out of your throat. He could have taken out his phone and taken a picture of a memory he didn’t want to forget, a cover photo that could have been the most memorable snapshot of your face—the most beautifully captured moment of the year.

“So tight,” his whisper sears your chest, “he could never give you what you want, and he will never give you what you want. Gotta be thankful that you have me.” 

Well, you’ve never been a thankful person, but maybe now is the time for a character transformation. Maybe you really should thank your brother-in-law for his very existence this year as he fucks his fingers into your velvety folds.  

“Hmmm? What you say? Don’t you fuck him just to keep yourself for me?”  

“Maybe.” Your breath touches his cheek, like a summery kiss, as he thumbs the spot that makes you squeeze down on his digits.  

“Not the answer I expected, though not that I care. I have more important things to do.”  

He’s talking about important things like you, to be sure, or your lovely cunt where the slick is bleeding on his fingers.  

When he’s sure he can fit himself in, he samples his glistening fingers himself, in his own mouth. A familiar taste, yes, but it leaves a trace of saccharin on his tongue that he has been denied for quite a long time. When it’s forbidden, it’s the lushest.  

“Maybe I’ll eat you tomorrow morning after breakfast.”  

How funny. No offense, but he sucks at these quip games.  

Neither he nor you have the patience to wait any longer in the rush of this. Whatever this is. Quick as it is, Leon wraps your legs around his hips, which he grasps by your calves.  

You do the rest and release him with your hand, loosening the belt around his waist and running your hand down to the zipper of his pants. Either it’s something in your imagination, or tonight he seems bigger to your eyes than you can ever remember him being. That, and the scars, which you can now observe so vividly for the first time. They’re emblazoned on his pale hide and mar him in angry pinks and ultraviolets. As much as you want to touch them, to plant those healing kisses, it’s Leon who stops you.  

“We don’t have time.”  

You already know that. In his defense, Leon and you have made one thing clear from the beginning: no feelings attached!  

So maybe in another universe you had the right Kennedy, and you were the one who lay with him in the same bed. You had a life beside him, with a cat and a dog, plus a roof over your head. Tragically, in this universe you were the cheating slut who cuckolded your fiancé, and he’s the asshole who banged his brother’s fiancé.  

“We don’t have time,” says the smartass, as he strokes the reddish tip of his cock back and forth over your wet entrance and repeats it like a looped movie script. It’s enough to piss you off, but your impatience is through the roof.  

“Please. Please, Leon.”  

The first thing he’s anticipating is the begging stage. But he wants more than that. And you know it.  

“Expecting better words from that witty mouth.”  

You bite your lower lip, and no, that’s not what he’s expecting nor what he aspires to.  

Leon pulls back a little and lays hold of his cock by the shaft. It’s leaking from the tip, and he smears the pre-cum by gliding the fat head of his dick into your slit. Smart saving, no wasted material.  

“See?” He massages the fluids with his ring finger, rubbing everything inside. “How your little pussy loves me. Your body wants me, sweetheart.” 

He then spits on his palm, garbing the dew over his cock, and proves his practical acumen even if he comes up with a solution that is not particularly hygienic.

“Now you tell me. Want me to fuck a little Kennedy in this pretty pussy?”

You should be ashamed of yourself. That you’re dying for this. Synonyms for these images of humiliation, however, don’t even cross your mind during those abandoned seconds.

You don’t know how many times you have shaken your head at him, positively, but it’s so worth it to see that boyish grin on his face. 

“I want it, Leon. Nothing but you.” You are no longer begging but spewing the truth as almost a last resort.  

Leon feels a thrill of elation at the way you squeeze him as he slides into you, tighter than sin. Your lips are sucking in a delicate puff of breath, and he’s not even inside you.  

The table beneath you is virtually slipping out of your palms, but fortunately you have him. He always holds you and always gives you whatever you want. He pulls on your hips, and moonlit tears well up in your eyes, stinging your lashes.  

“Damn, gorgeous. Can barely fucking fit.” The rasp of his lilt in his voice, the rush of his fingers on your hips. It’s all turning your head topsy-turvy. Slow, perhaps lazy thrusts push inside you, and your fluttering walls memorize the shape and outline of a cock that fucks you up inside and out. He leans back and groans as his dick melts into you—inch by inch, deeper and deeper, and the parting of his lips breaks into a grin as you near your limit with a newly forming bulge inside your stomach.

Only then do you auscultate the scratchy urge seething inside him.

“Look at this. Too big for ya? God—missed this pretty pussy so bad.” 

More than you have missed him?

Or does he even realize how wretchedly you tighten around his cock when you hear the subtle eulogy out of his mouth?

This is Leon you’re talking about. Of coure, he feels you. The guy worships you.  

He knows and reads your body, your soul. Goes further when you gently repel back to meet his hips, to less when he realizes that your hand is curling into a fist on his abdomen, and tenses up when he lashes your cervix with a very hard stab.

Everything is for you: every error he has made and will ever repeat and every right he will ever do.  

So is the way his lips quest for yours. The kiss rips out everything in your brain that belongs to survival instincts—rough and soft in equal measure—utterly debauched. His demanding hands play with your right tit poking out of your dress as if it were his own personal meat and vein toy. Hands reach up from his biceps down to his forearms, helpless, and you cling tightly to his shoulders because his body is the only thing that is holding you on the end of the table right now. He’s the only thing keeping you here, against the freezing degrees outside, against the happy house imaginary, against the people in it.  

Your mutinous whimpers choke in your own throat in an audible volume, and you recoil from his lips as if you are screaming in a nightmare but happen to have lost your voice. Eyes glazed, and both your lips are alizarin to the point of bleeding.  

“Look what I fucking do to you, greedy girl.” He reaches down your neck. Doesn’t choke you, though.

He’s the one who made you this way. Tonight he’s just more cynical than you’ve ever known him to be. Dirty talk will definitely rattle around in your brain in the most unlikely of places—maybe during a briefing, or maybe when you’re sitting with your beloved husband-to-be, sipping coffee or hot chocolate together.  

“I can’t. Leon. I think I—” The little words you’re trying to say just won’t come out of your mouth. You push so hard, but there’s simply no way through. Those mental words linger in your mind like clouds of rumination, leaving you mouth agape.  

“Yeah, me too.” He whispers quite musings as his thumb finds the pearl of your clit.

That’s exactly where the hell breaks loose. You no longer possess the vigor to spring up on the table, nor does he have the stamina to be sucked into the molten lava in which he’s melting and kindling.  

Drunken mistakes or impulses often drive people to make a choice they will regret. Your ineptitude is a down payment. Right there and then, you blanket his still throbbing cock, and he’s blinking his eyelashes together. All that ponderous, stinging thrusting, now numb and sporadic.  

“I’ll give you, give you—my baby.”  

Famous last words.

Still, he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. Really, the very essence of male beauty must have been invented for him, or you’re just too fucked up here.

To him, you’re so beautiful, and you take his cock so nicely. Absolutely worth its weight in gold.

With his face sunk into your neck, he moans, making a note of total bliss as he bottoms out, filling you as intensely as possible. Leon betrays a breath of air and closes his eyes for a second as your lovely pussy sucks in every lingering drop.

Your pulse is as senile as an oldie; you’re flushed and panting, gripping the edge of the table beneath you.

The rank ham-fistedness of your conduct dawns on both of you as you both only just regain your composure.

“Merry Christmas, beautiful.” So effortlessly, as if what happened between you hadn’t even had a spare moment to touch you—both emotionally and physically—as if he isn’t still inside you, he gives you his New Year’s wishing.  

“Merry Christmas, Leon.” Back at him, you sigh exasperatedly. No harm done. Can’t help wishing that the new year will be spent right next to him.

“Are you ready to get up, or should I carry you?”  

“Have I told you how hilarious you are?”  

“Oh, honey. The girls love it. So do you.”  

He crowns his comedy rehearsal, which is guaranteed to get a standing ovation, with a conical hat that he finds on the table at a random and very absurd moment and plonks it on your head. You nearly flinch.  

“There you go. Now you fit the theme.” 

[watchmegetobsessed]

NOW AND FOREVER (part 2)

A/N: these two got stuck in my head and seemingly in yours as well, so lets see some more of them! part 1 is linked under the summary if you haven't read it!

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

PAIRING: princess!reader x guard!harry

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: To be eligible for the throne, you need to get married. The past few years have been dedicated to finding a king for you, but now that you're secretly dating your guard, these attempts are a bit more complicated than before.

PART 1 | MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

There’s that scene in The Princess Diaries when they are choosing a possible husband out of a slide show for Mia. You used to find it funny when you were younger and made jokes to your parents that you want to do it too. They laughed, but exchanged a look you didn’t understand back then. 

Now you do.

There are two requirements you need to meet to take the throne. The first one is to be at least 25 years old. That box has been ticked for three years now, the real problem is the second one. Because as outdated that law in the movies was, it is your reality. You have to be married, you can’t take the throne without a man. 

As a teenager you didn’t think much of it, because you pictured yourself to meet a handsome prince, marry him and then become queen, easy as it is. But as you grew older and dating was proven to be impossible as a princess, anxiety and panic started to set in that you’d end up in an arranged marriage just to become eligible for ruling Eroda. 

Then came Harry, you fell for him and he fell for you, but it just complicated things even more, because he is not from royal blood, not even close to being an aristocrat, therefore you can never marry him. 

For the past few years most of the social events you’ve attended had a not so hidden second purpose: finding a husband. 

Never ending rounds of introductions to single men, awkward chatting that ended up in asking you out on a date that you declined politely most of the time, followed by a sermon from your father about needing to settle soon, because he is not getting younger and you need to be eligible for the throne as soon as possible. You always tried your best to just ignore him, but ever since you and Harry have become an item secretly it’s been extremely hard to hold your tongue and not tell him that you have found the man you want to spend the rest of your life with, but he can’t be king, because he is your guard. 

It’s such an impossible situation and you have no idea where it’s going to lead. 

Now it’s another one of those occasions, the opening of the Spring Festival is just another opportunity to fill up the palace’s ballroom with all kinds of single men from around the country and even outside as well. 

You know people are filling up the room already while you’re still in your suite. Your hair is done, makeup perfect, wearing a gown that costs probably way more than you feel comfortable with, but you’re never informed about how expensive your outfits are. 

You’ll be announced in about fifteen minutes, walk down the stairs for the millionth time and start your rounds. You’d rather jump out the window than to meet all those people, but you have no choice. 

There’s a knock on the door.

“Come in!” you call out and you see Harry step inside from the mirror. He is wearing his usual black suit, looking polished and threatening at the same time, but not to you. You see the man he is behind his thick walls, because there’s a door on that wall, just for you, wide open. 

The door clicks behind him and he watches you turn around, his gaze runs down the length of your body and then up to your face again. 

“Should I change?” you ask, arching an eyebrow at him teasingly.

“Do you want the honest or the brutally honest answer?”

Your lips stretch into a smile as you start to cross the room slowly, walking towards him while he remains standing in his spot.

“Both. The honest first.”

“You look stunning,” he replies, his eyes soft and loving. You stop just a few inches away from him.

“And the brutally honest one?”

There’s a short pause, you catch his eyes slip down to your chest and waist again before returning.

“I want to lock you in here and not let you close any men out there. I wish I could mark you mine.”

He knows how to turn you on within seconds with just a few words. He knows so well how much you like it when he gets possessive, ready to show it to the world that you belong to him and only him. 

A shaky breath leaves your lips and just when you reach up to grab him by his neck there’s another knock on the door. forcing you to take a step back instead. 

“Come in!” you answer when there’s enough distance between you and Harry, though your heart is still pounding in your chest as if it’s about to jump out and right into Harry’s hands. 

Head of security, Clarke steps into the suite.

“Her Royal Highness, you’re expected to appear in ten minutes,” he informs you with a polite nod.

“Styles just arrived to walk me over. Thank you.”

The two men exchange a look before Clarke walks out. Taking a deep breath you turn to face Harry.

“Ready?”

“Sure,” you huff, earning a tiny smirk from him before he opens the door, but as you walk past him he stops you just for a split second to whisper into your ear.

“Mine,” is all he says and you keep walking as if that one word didn’t just make your knees wobble.

You use the walk to the ballroom to get your thoughts straight and not imagine how Harry would peel you out of this dress if you had some privacy…

They announce you and  every pair of eyes are glued to you as you walk down the stairs and join the crowd. Endless rounds of introduction, the smile is frozen on your face and your feet are already sore from the heels, but you ignore the pain. 

It always amazes you how uninteresting the men you meet are. How they can’t hold a conversation that doesn’t make you claw your eyes out. Thirty seconds into the chit-chat and you’re already planning your escape usually. 

Tonight however there is one exception. 

His name is Magnus, some kind of relative of the Swedish royal family, you don’t really care to be honest. At first he seemed just another one of the boring puppets, but he soon proved to actually have a personality and your status didn’t stop him from showing it. 

His almost inappropriate, a bit risky jokes are what keep you sane tonight. He just knows what makes you laugh and he has a great timing dropping his silent comments that are only meant for you. 

“I think I’ll have a little break,” you tell him after a rather long conversation with some old baron you know you’ve seen a couple of times already, but can’t remember his name, only that he is always oddly curious about the neckline of your dress. 

“I’ll be around here, dodging questions about my father’s political choices.”

You smile with a nod and then look around to find Harry. He is not far away, by a window, his eyes already glued to you when you make your way towards him.

“Bathroom break,” you announce to him with a smile, expecting to see that hidden glimmer in his eyes as usual, because this is always the time when you steal a few intimate moments, but he is different now. Something is off.

He nods without a word and escorts you out of the room. In those few minutes you go back to your suite you try to figure out what could have happened since you parted ways that could upset him this much. As always, he opens the door for you, one guard stays outside and he comes in with you. 

He plants himself by the door, his hands clasped together in front of him as he keeps a straight face. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He looks at you just for a second before turning his gaze towards the window, his jaw flexes and your worry just grows, you haven’t seen him this upset in a long time. 

“Nothing is wrong,” he answers, but you both know it’s not true.

“I’m gonna ask you one more time, Harry. Just once more. What is wrong?”

Slowly, his eyes move back to you and for a moment, you forget to breathe, they’re so intense and darker than ever, as if all that gorgeous greenness is gone from them. 

“Your little date must be waiting for you, better hurry.”

Amusement settles on your face and you can’t stop yourself from letting a laugh slip out. 

“That’s your problem? Magnus?” His lips twitch at his name, but he doesn’t reply. “Harry, you know this is what’s expected from me. I have to pretend like I want to get to know the men out there.”

“I bet you didn’t have to pretend much when he came into the picture.”

“What are you talking about?!” you let out another frustrated laugh. You know he tends to get jealous, but you’ve never seen this side of him before. 

“You seemed to enjoy his company a lot out there.”

“Because he is not a boring asshole like most of the men I’m usually introduced to.”

“Great. You two will look good as king and queen.”

You know he doesn’t mean it, that he is just pissed and feels helpless in our situation, but in this moment you simply can’t see over the nasty fog of anger. 

“Oh you think so too? I agree,” is all you say before you march into your bathroom and shut the door closed. 

There’s no more talking as you walk back to the ballroom, but even the blind could see the tension between the two of you. You catch the other guard that came with you giving Harry a puzzled look, but he didn’t dare to ask. 

“Magnus!” you call out to him, making your way straight to him upon arriving when you spot him by a table. You can feel Harry’s burning gaze on your back, but tonight you’re in the mood to be petty. 

“Your Royal Highness, you’re back!” he smiles brightly. 

He is handsome, that’s for sure. Has great manners and an even greater sense of humor. The more you talk to him the more you think that you might be able to develop feelings for him in some years, or at least enough to live beside him in peace.

But those feelings would never live up to the love and passion you have for Harry. 

You’re still angry at him, for how childish he was and thought that anyone could stand a chance when he’s in your life. 

As the evening carries on your anger eases, though you’re still upset with him, you just want to be alone with him finally, touch him, kiss him, hear him call your name. 

Magnus asks you out at the end of the night and you politely decline, he doesn’t seem offended, maybe a bit disappointed, but he masks it well. You say your rounds of goodbye and then finally make your way back to your suite, Harry walking right beside you. 

The tension has somewhat lessened, but the vibes are still not the usual. You can’t tell what he’s thinking, if he is still as upset as before or he has cooled down, his face is so blank it irks you. Arriving at the suite you look at him, searching for any sign or feeling in his eyes, but they look back at you completely empty. So you walk in and lock yourself in your bathroom with trembling lips. 

Normally Harry would sneak in later at night, but this time you don’t expect him to show up. Hoping to burn the feelings tonight left behind, you take a hot bath and try to carry on as if nothing happened, even though Harry is all you can think about. 

Is it possible this is how things will end between the two of you? That this stupid little jealousy game is enough to pull you apart? You start to spiral heavily when you step out of the steamed up bathroom, but all your thoughts disappear the moment you notice you’re not alone.

Harry is sitting on the edge of your bed, still wearing his suit from tonight, but his black tie is gone and the top few buttons are undone on his perfectly white shirt. Unsure about where you’re standing and if he is still angry at you for the whole Magnus thing, you just stop halfway over to the bed, wrapped only in a silky robe. 

For a while he just sits there, staring at you, silent and unreadable and right when you’re about to speak, he stands up and starts walking towards you, slowly, his eyes locked with yours. You’re waiting for him to say something, maybe lash out on you, or apologize, practically anything, because his silence is pure torture. 

He stops right in front of you, if you took a deep breath your chest would be touching his, but he is still just staring down at you without a single word. 

And you break.

“Harry, I–”

He doesn’t let you finish, instead, his lips smash against yours, one hand on the back of your neck, the other one grabbing your jaw as he moves forward, pushing you to move with him until your back hits the wall, his whole body pressed against you as he kisses you like never before. 

He’s been rough with you before, but not like this. He is devouring your lips with the raw passion he had to hold back all evening, watching you parade around with another man while he wished he could show everyone in the room who you belong to. 

You both are in a rush, he is practically tearing your robe off your body while you’re ridding him of his clothes in a frenzy. You don’t even get to pull his shirt off entirely and his pants are just pooling around his ankles when brings your legs around his waist and thrusts his throbbing cock into you, only to freeze once he’s buried deep inside you.

You both gasp, lips smearing against each other as you stare back at each other, savoring the feeling of being as physically close as possible finally. The events of tonight have turned, they are now a force between the two of you, pulling you closer and closer until you’re melted together as one. 

You grab his face, tightening your legs around his waist as you breathe his name into his mouth before he starts moving. 

He starts off slow, but he is quick to fasten his pace, your gasps fill the room and you’re thankful your whole suite is soundproof, just like almost all rooms in the palace. It’s the only reason why you could have been in a similar situation in the library, the guest room in the west wing and your study. 

You’re tugging his hair and clawing at his back while he pounds into you relentlessly. At one point, most likely to muffle his moans, he bites into your shoulder and you faintly feel him sucking on the skin, but you’re just too gone to even realize what he is doing. 

He is kissing you so hard your teeth are clashing as he comes, his movements fall out of his fast paced rhythm for a bit, but then he keeps going for you.

“Come on, baby. Give it to me, come on my cock,” he urges you, knowing you’re close too. “I know you’re there, I can feel you so tight around my cock, just give it to me.”

A few more rough thrust and you’re whining out his name, your orgasm spreading through your whole body in waves. He fucks you through it and only stops when he’s sure you’ve given him everything. 

You stay like that, his cock buried inside you, his body pressing you up against the wall, foreheads resting against each other as you both try to catch your breath. When he pulls back you follow his eyes to your shoulder and see the reddish-purple mark he left on you. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he breathes out as he lets your legs down, your feet returning to the floor but he keeps an arm around your waist, knowing you probably don’t have much energy to stand on your own, his other hand comes up to your shoulder and he runs his fingers over the mark.

“It’s fine, I have makeup that covers anything,” you smirk at him. Secretly, you wish he’d let himself loose like this more often, you love seeing his mark on yourself. 

You catch his face falling before he speaks again.

“And I’m sorry for tonight.”

You couldn’t be angry at him anymore, not even if you tried. The tenderness is back in his eyes and he is the Harry you love so much again. 

“I’m sorry too.”

“No, you have nothing to apologize for,” he shakes his head. “You did nothing wrong, just… talked to a guy whose company was nice, after all those events full of assholes you always have to put up with. I was… jealous, because he got to be with you the way I want to.”

It stings in your chest, his confession hits hard now that it was said out loud, even though deep down you knew he felt like that, because you did too. You wished it could have been him. 

With a gentle touch, you take his face between your hands and pull him in for a soft kiss. 

“I know you know it, just probably forget it sometimes, but I’ll say it. No matter who they try to set me up with or how many princes and barons they throw into my way, I will only love and belong to you. Now and forever.”

You intentionally use his words and it seems to strengthen the message, you notice the tears in his eyes and you feel your throat closing up as well when you pull him in for another kiss, this time it’s longer and more passionate. You can taste his words on his tongue: I love you too.

When he pulls back you see the glimmer in his eyes, but then they disappear in a second. 

“What’s wrong?” He shakes his head. “Harry, talk to me, please,” you beg him, pushing his hair back.

“It’s just… You’ll have to marry one day. You can’t be queen without marrying someone and I… I can’t be…”

He doesn’t want to say it out loud, as if it would make it more real, even though it’s as real as it could get.

“We’ll figure it out. I promise,” you tell him, running the pad of your thumb over his eyebrow, as if you wanted to memorize every feature of his face. When he looks into your eyes you know he doesn’t believe you, but he just nods. You don’t want to let him go like this, to end tonight on such a bitter note. “So… you’d want to marry me? You’re saying you would willingly have me as your wife?”

You see the switch in his eyes and the way the corners of his mouth curl up makes you lightheaded in a second.

“Did I say that?”

“You very much implied, yes,” you grin at him. “I’m surprised you’d want to put up with my big mouth and attitude, you get the most of them, because I can’t act up in public. Wouldn’t you get fed up with me after a while?” you ask teasingly.

“Mm, don’t let it get to your head, but I love your big mouth and attitude.” Leaning down his lips are now brushing against yours, but he is not kissing you just yet. “Especially… your mouth and everything it can do,” he adds in a whisper before finally sucking on your bottom lip. 

He pulls you away from the wall and starts walking you towards the bed and you just smile widely against his mouth as you willingly move with him until you both fall into your bed and make the best out of the little time he gets to spend with you before he needs to sneak out.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[cumironi]

FILM 02. THE UNLIKELY ADVENTURES OF BITCH FACE AND GO FUCK YOURSELF

☆ sum. the first meeting wasn’t enough, right? so the next day, you decided to climb sukuna’s room once again and asked force him to go watching sunrise together.

warning. non-sorcerer au, fluff, crack, grumpy sukuna, you call him a bitch-face and he calls you bitch, you two get chased by some gang, he makes you cry, he is soooo mean.

☆ , DECEMBER, WHEN WINTER FINALLY COMES

the quiet of sukuna’s room was broken by a faint sound. tud, tud, tud. small pebbles tapped against his bedroom window one by one, soft but persistent. it was just past one in the morning, and he hadn’t been able to sleep, his body stretched across the bed as he stared blankly at the ceiling.

he had been lost in his thoughts, letting the silence drag on, until the sound pulled him out of his haze. his head turned slightly toward the window, crimson eyes narrowing as he listened. the noise stopped as quickly as it had started, and after a moment of stillness, he let out a quiet exhale.

his arms folded behind his head again as he lay back down, trying to focus on the cracks in the ceiling instead of whatever had disrupted the night. but then the sound came again, louder this time. tud, tud, tud.

sukuna sat up sharply, irritation flashing across his face. “who the hell is doing this?” he muttered darkly, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. he stood and took a few slow steps toward the window, his movements deliberate and heavy. his jaw tightened, and as another pebble struck the glass, he growled under his breath, “damn idiot.”

his patience was thin, and whoever had decided to play games at this hour was about to find out just how dangerous waking him up could be.

sukuna pulled open the window, his scowl deepening as the cool night air spilled into the room. but before he could fully register the quiet outside, something small and hard smacked against his forehead. a sharp tink rang out as the pebble bounced off, and his hand instinctively flew up to rub the spot.

his teeth clenched, his annoyance reaching its peak, when he heard a faint, muffled curse drift up from the darkness below. “shit.” his crimson eyes narrowed dangerously, scanning the scene until they landed on you. there you were, perched casually on a thick branch of the massive willow tree just outside his room. your feet dangled lazily in the air, swinging slightly as if you didn’t have a care in the world.

his glare sharpened as his gaze locked onto yours. “seriously?” he growled, voice low and cold. “what the fuck are you doing?” meanwhile, you tried your best to stifle a laugh, though the corners of your lips betrayed you. the sight of sukuna, standing there with a hand on his forehead and murder in his eyes, only made the whole situation even funnier.

his eyes narrowed into slits, every muscle in his body tensing slightly. “i don’t see what’s so funny about your dumbass throwing pebbles at my window in the middle of the goddamn night.” his tone was laced with a hint of warning, a silent reminder of his temper. he was teetering on the edge of losing his patience entirely, the sound of your laughter grating on his nerves even further.

his jaw tightened as he tried to control his rising irritation. “why the hell are you even here?” he asked, his voice firm and stern. it was evident that he wasn’t in the mood for games, especially at this ungodly hour. his gaze remained fixed on you with a steely resolve, making it clear that he expected a straight answer. “you better have a damn good explanation, or i swear to god, i’ll drag you down from that tree and toss you out on your ass.”

your silence only made sukuna’s irritation grow. his jaw clenched still as his crimson eyes bore into you, waiting for an explanation that never came. instead, you shifted your weight, standing up on the narrow branch with surprising ease. his frown deepened instantly, his arms uncrossing as his stance stiffened. “what the hell are you doing?” he snapped, his voice carrying an edge of concern despite the annoyance behind it. “get down before you fall, you idiot.”

it wasn’t like he cared all that much, or so he told himself, but he didn’t want his bedroom to become a damn crime scene. that’d be more trouble than it was worth. but before he could say anything else, you flashed him a cheeky grin and called out, “catch me!”

before he could even process your words, you leapt from the branch, aiming straight for his bedroom window. “you’ve got to be kidding me—” was all sukuna managed to mutter before instinct took over. his arms shot out, catching your body just in time, though the impact forced him to take a step back to steady himself.

he glared down at you, your smug smile and sparkling eyes doing nothing to ease his frustration. “are you out of your goddamn mind?” he growled, still holding you securely. “you could’ve broken your neck, you reckless idiot.” yet, despite his harsh words, his grip didn’t loosen. instead, he found himself glaring a little less, unable to ignore the faint, satisfied laugh escaping you.

you pushed away from his hold after landing on your feet with ease. a mischievous grin spread across your face, ear to ear, as if you hadn’t just given him a heart attack. “let’s go to the beach and watch the sunrise,” you said, your tone light and excited, completely disregarding his glare and the fact that it was still the middle of the night.

sukuna stared at you, his crimson eyes narrowing as a mixture of disbelief and frustration washed over his face. for a moment, he said nothing, just studying you as if trying to figure out what on earth possessed you to show up uninvited, nearly break his window, leap into his arms, and now suggest something as absurd as going to the beach at one in the morning.

he slowly turned his gaze toward the window, scanning the pitch-black sky as if the stars might offer him some sort of explanation. maybe he was hallucinating. maybe the lack of sleep was playing tricks on him. when his gaze returned to you, his frown deepened. “do you even know what time it is?” he asked, his voice sharp and incredulous. “what sunrise are you talking about? it’s one AM, you lunatic.”

but instead of looking sheepish, you only grinned wider, your energy almost infectious. it made his eye twitch. you weren’t even fazed by his irritation, which only made him more annoyed. your lack of concern for how ridiculous your idea sounded was somehow both baffling and—if he dared admit it—mildly amusing.

you rolled your eyes at sukuna’s incredulous tone, waving a hand dismissively as if his frustration was unwarranted. “oh, come on,” you said, your grin never faltering. “it takes two hours to get to the beach, and sunrise isn’t until after five. we’ve got plenty of time.”

sukuna sighed heavily, rubbing his temples as he felt a headache coming on. you were absolutely insufferable, but you seemed so set on this ridiculous plan. he glanced at the clock again, the red digital numbers glaring back at him. one fifteen AM. he groaned, running a hand through his hair as he tried to decide whether he should just give in or keep arguing with you. “seriously,” he said, his tone sharp. “this is just... ridiculous. it’s the middle of the night. we should be sleeping, not planning an impromptu beach trip.”

you let out an exaggerated, dramatic groan, throwing your head back as if his refusal physically pained you. without missing a beat, you stepped closer, wrapping your hands around his wrist. his hand, nearly twice the size of yours, felt solid and warm as you swung it lightly, your pleading eyes locking onto his with an almost theatrical desperation.

“oh, come on, sukuna,” you whined, dragging out the words for maximum effect. “it’s so much better than sulking in your room all night.”

you gave his arm another little swing, as if your enthusiasm alone could sway him. “besides,” you added with a playful smirk, “when’s the last time you did something fun? i mean, really fun? just think about it—me, you, the beach, the sunrise. it’ll be unforgettable.”

his crimson eyes narrowed as he stared at you, his expression somewhere between annoyance and reluctant amusement. the pleading look in your eyes, combined with your unwavering determination, made it impossible for him to ignore you completely. “unbelievable,” he muttered, exhaling sharply as if resigning himself to your chaos. he tugged his wrist lightly, trying to free it from your grip, but you only held on tighter, your grin widening. “pleaseee, are you going to let me go alone?”

sukuna finally relented with a heavy sigh, his annoyance slowly fading as your enthusiasm wore him down. he looked down at your hands wrapped around his wrist, the contrast of your smaller hand against his larger one almost comical. with a resigned groan, he let go of the last bit of resistance still holding him back. “fine,” he conceded, his voice a mix of frustration and reluctant amusement. “we’re going to the damn beach, but you better not be a pain in my ass the whole time.”

your grin stretched even wider, practically splitting your face as sukuna finally gave in. “okay!” you chirped, your excitement barely contained. you turned toward the window, already preparing to climb back down the tree. “i’ll wait in the car!” but before you could so much as swing a leg over the sill, a firm hand grabbed the back of your collar, yanking you backward with surprising ease.

“are you trying to die?” sukuna growled, his voice low and exasperated. he spun you around to face him, crimson eyes narrowing as he glared down at you. “what are you, a damn monkey? why do you enjoy climbing this stupid tree so much?” you pouted up at him, though it quickly dissolved into a sheepish laugh when his glare only deepened.

his frown was sharp as he looked at you, but there was an unmistakable flicker of concern in his gaze. with a sigh, he gently tugged you away from the window, his hand firm but careful. “just wait,” he muttered, his tone softer now, though no less irritated. he strode over to his desk, grabbing his phone, wallet, and jacket. after slipping the jacket on, he turned back to you, his hand once again finding the back of your collar.

“you’re not getting another chance to pull something stupid,” he muttered, tugging you along as he made his way to his bedroom door.

you stumbled after him, unable to contain your amused smile as he led you out of his room, through the hall, and down the stairs of his two-story house. sukuna didn’t let go of your collar until you were both standing outside, the cool night air brushing against your skin as he locked the front door behind him.

once outside, sukuna’s eyes landed on your car parked neatly on the street beside his house. he squinted at it, then back at you, the realization of your full plan sinking in. you had come fully prepared, didn’t you?

you turned to him with a grin that could rival the moonlight, bouncing on your feet with excitement. “get in the damn car,” he muttered, tossing you a sharp look as he walked ahead. “and don’t make me regret this.” you took off at a light jog, heading toward the car with a spring in your step.

sukuna sighed heavily, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets as he followed behind at a more leisurely pace. sukuna’s glare softened a fraction as he watched you dart toward the car with all the enthusiasm of a child. he followed at his own pace, the occasional crunch of gravel beneath his shoes serving as a steady background to his thoughts.

“you’re way too cheerful for someone dragging me out of bed at this hour,” he muttered, though his tone lacked the venom he might’ve had earlier. you just laughed, spinning around briefly to face him while walking backward. “oh, come on, you’ll thank me later,” you teased, your grin widening.

your infectious energy was both irritating and oddly endearing. it was almost impressive how you had him going along with your late-night escapade. “yeah, right,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “i already regret this, and we’ve barely even started. it’s the middle of the night, you lunatic.”

the two-long drive had barely started before you were out like a light, your head resting against the glass window, your soft breathing filling the otherwise silent car. before you drifted off, you mumbled something about waking you up when they got there, your voice drowsy but insistent.

sukuna grumbled under his breath, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he muttered something about how you have the nerves to dumped the work on him. but he did as you said, settling into the quiet of the drive.

every so often, his eyes flicked toward you, his gaze lingering longer than he intended. the way you looked so peaceful in sleep, your face lit faintly by the glow of passing streetlights, chipped away at his irritation. each time he glanced at you, the sharp edges of his frown softened bit by bit, until eventually, he let out a long, resigned sigh.

stopping at a red light, sukuna found himself turning to look at you again. the streets were empty, yet he waited, watching you as you slumbered. his crimson eyes narrowed slightly, not in annoyance but in quiet curiosity, as if wondering what went on in that chaotic head of yours that drove you to drag him on such ridiculous adventures.

“what the hell am i doing?” he muttered to himself, rolling his eyes at his own thoughts. as the light turned green, he snapped back to the road, letting out another sigh. his hands tightened on the wheel, though his expression was far less stern than it had been when the night started. without another word, he continued the drive, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

his mind a mix of frustration and a strange, unexpected fondness for your carefree spirit. you’d managed to drag him into one of your wild schemes, and even though he’d never admit it, he found himself looking forward to whatever chaos awaited them.

each time he glanced at you, dozing peacefully against the glass window, sukuna’s annoyance melted away a little more. he tried to ignore the way his gaze lingered, how he found himself studying your peaceful expression under the passing streetlights.

and after what felt like an eternity of driving, sukuna finally pulled into the nearly empty parking lot by the beach, situated near a small, dimly lit gas station. the faint, rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the shore reached his ears, a soothing contrast to the chaotic, frustrating night. he cut the engine, and the car was suddenly swallowed by the quiet, save for the soft hum of the night air. everything outside seemed still, but inside the car, a strange tension remained.

his gaze shifted over to you, still fast asleep, completely oblivious to the world around you. your head rested against the glass of the window still, your body curled up slightly in the seat, looking peaceful and unaware. the moonlight from the streetlights outside filtered in, casting a soft glow across your face, but you didn’t stir.

sukuna’s eyes narrowed as he sat there for a moment, the corner of his lips curving upward into a smirk. the thought of those damn pebbles you had thrown earlier, hitting his window with an annoyingly consistent rhythm, flared up in his mind. he could still feel the irritation from it.

“let’s see if this works,” he muttered under his breath, eyes glinting with mischief as he looked at you. he then raised his hand slowly, his fingers curling into a relaxed fist for a moment before flicking it out.

his fingers made light contact with your forehead, the soft sting of the flick causing you to groan slightly in your sleep. your brows furrowed instinctively, but you didn’t wake up. sukuna leaned back in his seat, smirking at the sight of your unbothered state. he couldn’t help but find it amusing.

“really?” he muttered to himself, letting out a quiet, almost exasperated laugh. “don’t chicken out on me now.”

he flexed his fingers, his smirk deepening as he prepared for round two. with a subtle but deliberate movement, he flicked your forehead again, this time with more force. the sting was sharper, the discomfort enough to make you stir more abruptly.

you jolted awake, a small, startled yelp escaping your lips as your hand flew to your forehead, instinctively pressing against the spot he had struck. your eyes darted around in confusion, disoriented by the sudden jolt from your dreams. everything seemed a little blurry, and you blinked rapidly as your senses returned.

then, you locked eyes with sukuna, his smirk wide and utterly unbothered by your clearly annoyed expression. “what the hell was that for?” you snapped, your voice groggy but full of irritation as you rubbed the sore spot on your forehead. your eyes were wide with disbelief, trying to process what had just happened.

sukuna’s chuckle echoed in the car as he watched your reaction, clearly enjoying the way his little prank had thrown you off. leaning back into the seat with a satisfied smirk, he stretched his arms behind his head, letting the silence between you both settle. “morning, sunshine,” he teased, his voice laced with sarcasm as he glanced at the dashboard clock. “or should i say, good night? you really slept through the whole damn drive, huh?”

he took a moment to study you, his eyes lingering on the way your hair was all messy and your expression was still groggy, like you’d been dragged out of a dream against your will. “nice bedhead, by the way. very charming,” he added, his lips curling into a mocking grin.

you were about to shoot back a snarky comment when, without warning, sukuna threw open the door and stepped out of the car, slamming it shut behind him. you groaned, rubbing your temples, muttering under your breath about how ridiculous he was. grabbing your backpack off the seat, you dragged yourself out of the car.

as you made your way toward him, you couldn’t help but pout at the way he walked ahead with that cocky swagger. the annoyance you felt deepened, but it only made you more determined to match his pace. so you picked up your steps, narrowing the distance between you, and before long, you were running slightly to keep up. the pout on your face, the way your lips stuck out in frustration, didn’t escape sukuna’s notice.

he rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed by your childish display, but he didn’t bother commenting. the silence was comfortable, for him at least. but then, as you neared a convenience store near the edge of the beach parking lot, you tugged at his wrist, pulling him toward it with surprising strength for someone so irritated. “come on, we’re stopping in there,” you said, a little more stubborn than you’d like to admit, but you weren’t in the mood for any more nonsense from him just yet.

sukuna gave you a side-eye but didn’t resist. “what now? you need a snack after your little nap?” he muttered, but there was no real malice in his words. still, he couldn’t help but notice the way your hand gripped his wrist, tugging him along. for a moment, it was just the two of you, walking side by side, with nothing else but the sound of the waves and the distant chatter of beachgoers filling the air.

you barely spared a glance at the bikes and parked cars scattered around as you walked past the motor park outside the convenience store. your mind was set on one thing—getting what you needed to make the sunrise more tolerable. sukuna, trailing closely behind you, shot a quick glance at the bikes, his usual vigilance keeping him aware of his surroundings, but you were already step ahead before he could dwell on it.

stepping through the automatic sliding doors, you immediately made a beeline for the snack aisle, eyes scanning the shelves for something that would hold you over until the sunrise. chips, candy, anything that seemed like it could make the morning a little more bearable. you didn’t care about the healthy options, not when you were operating on little more than your usual impatience and a desire to keep moving.

sukuna, of course, was right behind you, his steps almost matching yours. he wasn’t as distracted by the snacks as you were, but he knew better than to complain. he grabbed a couple of drinks and some savory snacks, mostly just grabbing whatever seemed convenient. his gaze flickered over to you occasionally, noting your rapid pace as you moved from one shelf to the next.

he could already tell you weren’t going to make this a simple stop—no, this was going to be an adventure for you. he couldn’t help but smirk to himself, even if the trip wasn’t exactly how he had planned it.

after, you both stood at the register, silently eyeing the snacks you’d picked out before to sukuna, he couldn’t help but shoot you a look of frustration. you hadn’t said a word, but he could practically hear the pleading radiating off you. he let out a heavy sigh, his impatience beginning to show.

“you’re really gonna do this, huh?” he muttered, his voice thick with annoyance. “first, you drag me out here at this ungodly hour, and now you’re making me pay for your snacks? this is getting ridiculous.”

he shook his head, pulling out his wallet with an exaggerated motion, clearly not happy about this turn of events. “i swear to god, you’re a professional at getting under my skin.” he grumbled as he handed over the cash, his eyes narrowing at the cashier as if it was their fault for being stuck in this situation.

sukuna didn’t look at you as he accepted the change and bags. he was trying his best to hide the smirk that was threatening to show on his face. his usual irritation was half-hearted at best because deep down, he knew he would’ve done it anyway, even if you didn’t twist his arm about it.

“next time, you’re paying for your own damn food,” he added, his tone a bit softer but still laced with mock seriousness. “you’re not dragging me out here again just so i can pay for everything.” as he handed you the bag of snacks, you just flashed him that innocent smile of yours, which only made him roll his eyes in response.

once outside the store, you couldn’t resist teasing him, a playful grin spreading across your face. “oh, come on, it’s just a snack,” you said, pushing him lightly with your hand as you walked past him.

but sukuna wasn’t having any of it. his frustration only deepened at your carefree attitude. he turned to face you with a frown, his voice low but sharp, returning the favor. “don’t push me.”

you blinked, a bit taken aback by his reaction. but it didn’t take long before your mischievous side flared up. without hesitation, you shoved him back, the playful gleam in your eyes only growing. “don’t push me,” you retorted, your hands pressing harder against his chest.

sukuna’s eyes widened in surprise as his balance shifted, and before he could even react, his feet slipped, and he stumbled backward. the force of the push sent him crashing into the row of parked motorcycles outside the store. the sound of metal clanging and engines rattling echoed in the quiet street as the motorcycles toppled over, one by one, like a row of dominos.

you froze, your eyes wide with shock, staring at the mess you had just caused. the motorcycles lay scattered, some on their sides, others leaning awkwardly, their once proud chrome frames now battered and unbalanced.

sukuna and you shared a stunned look, the realization hitting both of you simultaneously. his glare turned to you, murderous and filled with disbelief. “you...” he muttered, his voice a dangerous whisper, the rage building up in his chest. “this is your fault.”

you could only mutter an apology under your breath, your hands flying to cover your mouth as a curse slipped past your lips. “fuck,” you whispered, eyes wide with embarrassment and a hint of panic. you took a step back, unsure of what to do next as the reality of the situation settled in. sukuna’s glare didn’t soften, but his gaze flicked to the mess, then back at you. the anger was still there, but a small part of him was almost impressed by the sheer chaos you had caused with a simple push.

“well, this is just great,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair, exasperated but somehow unable to hide a small smirk creeping at the corner of his lips. “you really know how to make things interesting, don’t you?”

before you could react to the mess you caused, a shout broke through the air. “hey!” the angry voice cut through the tension, sending a jolt of panic through both you and sukuna. your head snapped toward the source of the sound, your heart racing as you instinctively stepped back.

sukuna’s expression immediately hardened, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the group of men approaching, all clearly not happy with the situation. one of them, a larger man with a scowl etched across his face, stepped forward and demanded, “what the hell are you two doing?”

you opened your mouth to try and explain, but before you could get a word out, sukuna was already on his feet, moving with the swift grace that was so typical of him. his hand shot out, grabbing yours in a firm grip. he didn’t give you a chance to argue or even think. “run,” he growled, his tone harsh but urgent. his other hand snatched up both bags of snacks from the ground, not wanting to leave them behind, as if that mattered in the moment.

with no time to waste, you both took off, your footsteps echoing in the silence of the street as you sprinted away from the angry group. the men shouted after you. you glanced over at sukuna, still holding onto his hand, your heart pounding. despite the adrenaline coursing through you, a small laugh bubbled up at the absurdity of the situation, but sukuna’s focused expression didn’t falter as he kept running. “next time, maybe don’t knock over the bikes,” he muttered through gritted teeth, but there was a flicker of amusement in his voice. “god, you’re a pain.”

sukuna’s eyes briefly flicked towards the beach, then back ahead at the dimly lit road ahead. he didn’t hesitate for a moment, his strides quickening as he veered off the road onto the sandy shore, you barely had time to respond— desperate to get away from a bunch of angry men while the angry voices followed behind you two. “shit!” you mutter.

you stumbled from the pavement onto the soft, shifting sand, the sudden change in terrain threw you off balance for a brief moment. your feet sank deeper into the sand, making it harder to keep up with sukuna’s swift pace. you cursed quietly under your breath, trying to steady yourself, but sukuna’s hand tightened around yours, steadying you with a firm grip. his gaze never wavered, scanning the area ahead with intensity as he led the way, his jaw clenched with determination.

the sand, soft and unpredictable, made every step feel like it was dragging you back, the gentle incline of the beach working against you. with each step, the angry shouts of the men grew louder, and you could feel the panic rising again. sukuna cursed under his breath, again, his footsteps becoming heavier as he pushed forward. “this way,” he muttered, his voice sharp as he tugged you in the direction of a cluster of large rocks jutting out from the sand.

you followed without hesitation, the two of you moving with an urgency that came from being hunted. as you reached the rocks, sukuna’s grip on your hand shifted. he pulled you towards the largest one, guiding you behind it with a fluid motion. instinctively, his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close against his chest to shield you from the view of the men still shouting in the distance.

your heart was racing, your breath coming in short, uneven bursts as you tried to calm yourself. you could feel his body against yours, the steady thrum of his heartbeat almost matching the frantic pulse in your own chest. your wide eyes met his for a moment, but he didn’t acknowledge the proximity, didn’t even look at you. his focus was entirely on the men who were now pacing past, their voices carrying over the beach.

they were discussing possible places you two might have gone, debating which direction to take. their words drifted on the wind as they walked past, oblivious to the two of you hiding behind the rocks. you could hear them mention the pier and the nearby dunes, but none of them thought to look in the direction you were hiding. you both sat in the sand, as still as possible, listening intently, barely daring to breathe.

you stayed pressed against sukuna’s side, the tension between the two of you palpable. the men’s voices faded into the distance, the danger slipping away. but as the silence settled in, you couldn’t help but feel the heat of sukuna’s body next to yours, the closeness making you acutely aware of how tightly he was holding you, how his arm had never loosened from around your waist.

finally, sukuna let out a deep, relieved sigh, but didn’t let go of you just yet. his eyes remained on the retreating men, watching until they disappeared from view. “that was too damn close,” he muttered under his breath, his tone laced with irritation, but there was a hint of amusement there too. “next time, try not to wreck an entire parking lot.”

you didn’t say anything at first. instead, you just stared at sukuna, your wide eyes reflecting the moonlight that bathed the beach in a soft, silver glow. the faint breeze played with your hair, and for a moment, the world felt like it had slowed down, leaving you both in this small, tense bubble of silence.

your cheeks felt hot, pink as sakura blossoms, but you hoped the dim lighting would hide the flush creeping up your neck. sukuna’s attention was still on the retreating men, his jaw tight with focus, and you couldn’t help but notice how his grip had relaxed just enough to let you breathe, but not enough to let go entirely. his presence felt overwhelming, and for a moment, you found yourself wishing you could escape the strange heat of the situation.

you shifted uncomfortably, wanting to break the silence but unsure how to respond. you had never been one to get flustered easily, but this was different. the proximity, the way his body still pressed against yours, made your heart beat faster than it should.

sukuna’s gaze finally shifted back to you, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in your flushed cheeks and the way you were fidgeting. he raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “what’s up with that ugly face of yours?” he asked, voice dripping with mockery, before pulling his hand away and pushing your face with an exaggerated motion, face-palming you in the process.

you groaned, the gesture annoying yet somehow familiar. you smacked his hand away from your face with an exaggerated flick of your wrist, then moved to sit beside him. leaning against the rock, you crossed your arms and huffed while the warmth still lingering in your cheeks. “you’re the one who’s ugly,” you grumbled under your breath, though the words didn’t carry much weight.

despite the irritation in your tone, there was something oddly comforting about being so close to him in that moment. you could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing, the slight tension in his shoulders, and it grounded you, even though your heart was still racing.

sukuna just laughed, clearly unbothered by your comeback. “nice one,” he chuckled, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “very original.” he shift beside you, his back against the rough surface of the boulder. the cool night air blew off the ocean, but it couldn’t quite reach the small space between you and sukuna. the warmth radiating from his body seemed to counteract any chill you might have felt.

you glanced over at him, your eyes catching on the way the moonlight illuminated his face, casting shadows across his sharp features. sukuna met your gaze, raising an eyebrow in a silent challenge.

you scoffed, rolling your eyes dramatically as you turned your head away from him. “fuck face,” you muttered under your breath, trying to sound as unbothered as possible despite the fluttering feeling in your chest. you didn’t look at him, but you could practically feel his amused gaze on you, sharp and unrelenting.

sukuna let out a low chuckle, clearly entertained by your attempt to act indifferent. “nice comeback,” he said with a grin, his tone teasing. he shifted slightly, his posture still relaxed as he leaned back against the boulder. despite the sarcastic edge in your words, the atmosphere between you two had somehow shifted, the tension from earlier dissolving into something more familiar. something that, despite how hard you tried to avoid it, felt oddly comfortable.

sukuna rolled his eyes dramatically by the comfortable, warm weird feeling, and yet, the corners of his lips twitching in amusement. “ugly duck,” he muttered, clearly trying to irritate you as much as possible. his tone was dripping with sarcasm, and it was clear he was enjoying the way your temper was starting to rise.

you scoffed again, your eyes narrowing at sukuna with an offended look, as if he had just committed an unforgivable sin against your family. “i do not,” you said firmly, voice laced with disbelief, as if the idea was completely absurd. the way you looked at him, like he’d just insulted your entire existence, made it clear that you weren’t about to let him get away with that cheap shot— glaring at him with all the seriousness you could muster.

sukuna raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he leaned back against the boulder, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “yes, you are,” he said confidently, his tone teasing and challenging, as if daring you to prove him wrong.

your eyes narrowed as you glared at sukuna, frustration bubbling up inside you. with a quick movement, you smacked his shoulder, your voice firm as you retorted, “i do not.”

the hit made sukuna frown slightly, clearly unamused by your defiance. his gaze hardened as he leaned in a little closer, then returned the gesture, hitting your shoulder back with a gentler force, almost playful. “yes, you are,” he insisted, his voice dripping with mock confidence.

after a bit of playful back-and-forth hitting, the air had finally cooled down, and the two of you settled on the blanket, both of you feeling the exhaustion of the night catch up. sukuna stretched out beside you, his arm sliding beneath his head as he stared up at the night sky. you mirrored his position, laying on your back, the soft sand beneath the blanket providing a bit of cushion.

the moonlight cast a gentle glow across the landscape, and for the first time that night, there was a quiet, almost peaceful stillness between you two. the sound of the waves crashing in the distance was calming, and for a brief moment, the tension from earlier seemed to fade away.

you stayed like that for a while, side by side, your thoughts swirling in the calmness of the moment. sukuna, ever the enigma, didn’t say a word either. his usual teasing and mocking had faded, replaced with the silence that seemed to hang comfortably in the air.

it was past three in the morning by now, and the world around you seemed to slow down. there was no rush, no need to speak—just the two of you under the vast, starry sky, each lost in your own thoughts but sharing the same space.

despite the petty fights and irritation that had built up throughout the evening, there was something oddly peaceful about this moment. the tension between you two seemed to dissipate in the quiet, the cool night air and distant waves offering a strange comfort. your breathing slowed, matching the calm rhythm of the world around you.

the silence was weirdly comfortable, almost soothing, in a way you hadn’t expected. you both lay there, gazing up at the night sky, the stars twinkling above like a scattered canvas of light. for once, the annoying back-and-forth banter was replaced by this tranquil quiet, and you couldn’t help but appreciate it. the warmth from sukuna’s body beside you, weird, but somehow bring you warmth.

you turned your head slightly, your gaze shifting toward sukuna. his frown was still firmly in place, even after all the teasing and playful hits. it seemed almost permanent, like an expression he wore without even thinking about it.

you let out a quiet sigh, your eyes drifting back to the waves crashing softly against the shore. with a hint of sarcasm, you said, “you’ll get old faster if you can’t stop frowning like that.” you didn’t even look at him as you spoke, just keeping your focus on the rhythmic movement of the water, but you could feel his presence next to you, the weight of his attention likely on you even without him saying anything.

sukuna’s frown didn’t shift an inch, as if the muscles in his face were permanently stuck in their grumpy position. he glanced over at you, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice. “what, you think some stupid facial expression will make me age?” he grumbled, his tone carrying an edge of irritation. “besides, i’d rather frown than wear a stupid smile all the time.”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his blunt response, the annoyance simmering beneath the surface of his words. with a sigh, you shook your head, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “look, i’m not saying you need to walk around looking like some grinning idiot all the time,” you said, the sarcasm in your voice unmistakable.

shift slightly on your side, your finger poke his dimple. “but at least try not to look like you’re in a permanent bad mood, always so grumpy. it’s not a good look, sukuna.” you emphasized the last part, hoping he’d get the message, though you weren’t expecting him to suddenly turn cheerful.

sukuna growled lowly, his frown deepening at your words. “and what, you think you know what’s a good look?” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “maybe i like frowning. it makes people think twice before they mess with me, and it keeps the idiots away,” he muttered, though there was a hint of defensiveness in his voice.

he remained motionless, but his eyes narrowed as he looked at you, clearly not appreciating your advice or the way you were poking at him. “i can frown all i damn well please.”

you rolled your eyes dramatically at his response, the exaggerated gesture meant to get under his skin even more. “jeez, take a chill pill, will ya?” you quipped, your voice dripping with mock exasperation as you shifted to lay on your back again, gaze fixed on the stars above. unable to resist, you muttered just loud enough for him to hear, “bitch face,” a sly smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as you knew exactly what reaction you’d get.

sukuna’s eyes narrowed, and he rolled them in an exaggerated motion, clearly unimpressed by your comment. “go fuck yourself,” he shot back, his tone dry but laced with the barest hint of amusement, though he refused to let you see it. the tension between you both was charged, but in the way that felt more like a game than anything truly serious.

you chuckled softly, the sound light and teasing as you turned your head to look at him. “what should i when i have you, though?” you replied, your tone playful and laced with mock innocence. without missing a beat, you reached out and poked his side, grinning when he flinched just slightly at your touch.

sukuna growled, an annoyed sound that rumbled from his throat at your playful poke. he smacked your hand away, his eyes narrowing as he shot you a glare, as if warning you not to do it again. “are you done being a pain in the ass, or do i have to suffer some more of your genius jokes?” he grumbled, his voice dry with sarcasm. despite his words, there was a hint of amusement in his eyes, like he silently enjoyed the back-and-forth banter.

you snorted, the sound full of amusement as you raised your hands in mock surrender. “alright, alright, i’ll stop,” you said, your tone playful but with a hint of finality. you shifted your attention away from him, turning your gaze to the sea in front of you. the waves glistened under the moonlight, their rhythmic crash filling the comfortable silence between you two.

a small smile tugged at your lips as you let the peaceful night wash over you, your playful antics replaced with a quiet contentment. still, you couldn’t help but glance at sukuna out of the corner of your eye, half-expecting another sarcastic remark.

sukuna grumbled under his breath, muttering something unintelligible about how “impossible” you were. though you had promised to stop with your antics, he could tell you weren’t entirely done messing with him—it was in the way you carried yourself, that mischievous spark in your eyes that promised chaos at the worst possible moments. aside from his annoyance, sukuna stayed quiet, letting the cool breeze and the rhythmic crash of waves fill the silence between you.

he exhaled deeply, his breath forming faint clouds in the crisp night air as he leaned back on the blanket, eyes fixating on the stars scattered across the vast sky. for a moment, he let himself get lost in his thoughts, his usual scowl softening ever so slightly. everything about tonight felt absurd to him—ridiculous, even. this was only the second time he’d found himself alone with you, and yet somehow, you had managed to rope him into something so out of the ordinary, so unlike anything he’d normally do.

his gaze lingered on the constellations above, but his mind was far from serene. he couldn’t help but replay the events of the past few hours, each one more baffling than the last. it had started with your insistence on a late-night trip to the beach, dragging him out of whatever semblance of peace he’d hoped to enjoy for the night. you’d pestered him relentlessly, batting away his complaints with ease, until he finally caved. by the time he realized what he’d agreed to, you were already in the passenger seat, grinning as if you’d won some grand prize.

the two-hour drive to the beach had been another ordeal entirely— leaving all the responsibility to him while you fast asleep. he swore you’d consumed every ounce of patience he had before you even arrived. then, as if that wasn’t enough, you’d demanded he pay for your snacks—practically raided the convenience store, arms full of chips and candy—and didn’t even offer to share half of it.

but the crowning jewel of the night had been the chaos you caused at the parking lot— you shoving him toward a row of motorcycles. the chain reaction had been instant and catastrophic, a line of bikes toppling over like dominoes. before he could even process what had happened, a group of furious men had appeared, yelling and charging toward you both.

sukuna could still feel the adrenaline pumping from the chase, the way his hand had gripped yours as you both bolted for the rocks near the shore. and now, after all that chaos, here you were—lying next to him on a beach at four, almost five in the morning, wrapped in the chilly embrace of the ocean breeze, waiting for a sunrise that wouldn’t come for at least another hour.

he stole a glance at you out of the corner of his eye. you were staring out at the waves, your expression unusually calm, a small smile playing on your lips as if this had been your plan all along. sukuna frowned, his thoughts spiraling further. how the hell did you manage to drag him into these absurd situations? more importantly, why had he let you? he wasn’t the type to indulge anyone, let alone someone as unpredictable and insistent as you. and yet, here he was—on a beach at an ungodly hour, lying on a blanket, while you waited for a sunrise he didn’t care to see.

still, there was something about the quiet between you now, something strangely comforting, the feeling like he yearning the warmth. he wouldn’t admit it, not even to himself, but the silence wasn’t so bad. it was rare for him to feel this at ease with someone, even after a night as chaotic as this. sukuna’s eyes wandered back to the stars, his thoughts drifting between irritation and an odd sense of contentment. maybe you were impossible, but for reasons he couldn’t quite grasp, he didn’t mind it all that much.

sukuna glanced towards the horizon, the sky still mostly dark except for a thin band of color that had begun to form—the barely there hint of the sun’s impending arrival. with a heavy groan, he finally broke the silence, his voice low and slightly irritable. “why the hell did we have to wait for the sunrise again?” he asked, his tone heavy with frustration, but the underlying exasperation laced with a subtle warmth that betrayed his true feelings.

despite his words, sukuna didn’t attempt to leave, his gaze fixated on the early morning sky.

you let out a small sigh, not bothering to look at him as you answered, your voice casual but with a hint of amusement. “i’m bored,” you said, your eyes still fixed on the horizon, the sky still stubbornly blue with no trace of the sunrise. “i’ve always wanted to watch the sunrise. figured tonight was as good a time as any.”

you stretched slightly, feeling the coolness of the morning air nipping at your skin, but the warmth from sukuna’s presence still lingered beside you. despite the late hour and everything that had happened, you weren’t quite ready to leave yet. the quiet was peaceful, and you weren’t about to break it with another pointless argument.

sukuna’s scowl deepened at your nonchalant response, his eyes narrowing as he tried to make sense of your reasoning. “so you dragged me out here at one in the morning because you were...bored?” he grumbled, clearly not thrilled with the entire situation.

he fell silent for a moment, then spoke up again, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “don’t tell me you wanted to ‘bond’ too. maybe we can braid each other’s hair next and exchange secrets like little kids.”

you shot him a glare, your eyes narrowing in a mix of annoyance and amusement. “yeah, sure, sukuna,” you retorted, your tone laced with attitude. “i was thinking we could braid each other’s hair, sing kumbaya around a campfire, and share our deepest, darkest secrets. sound like a blast?”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the ridiculousness of his suggestion, your words dripping with sarcasm. despite the tension in the air, there was a hint of playfulness beneath your sharp retort. “maybe next time, we’ll make friendship bracelets while we’re at it ’cause you are my best friend.” sukuna’s smirk returned, but this time it was more subdued, as if he was both amused and slightly irritated by your response.

sukuna snorted at your sarcasm, his voice laced with amusement. “yeah, right. like i’m gonna sit around and act all buddy-buddy with you, braid your hair, and sing little campfire songs.” his tone was sharp, filled with his usual irritable edge, but there was something else beneath the annoyance—a hint of amusement that betrayed his true feelings.

he scoffed, rolling his eyes at the absurdity of the thought. “you’re delusional if you think i’d ever do any of that crap. in what world would i want to be friends with a pain in the ass like you?”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes too, giving him a playful shove to the chest. “shut up, sukuna,” you scowled, your tone a mix of annoyance and amusement. “i don’t want to be friends with a grumpy bastard like you either.” you crossed your arms, a pout tugging at your lips as you glared at him, trying to hide the grin that was threatening to break through.

his sarcasm and irritation were so predictable, and yet, there was something strangely endearing about it, even if you’d never admit it out loud. still, you weren’t going to let him have the satisfaction of knowing that you didn’t mind his grumpiness quite as much as you let on.

sukuna growled in frustration, his scowl becoming even deeper. “i can’t believe i was stupid enough to agree to this whole damn thing.” he muttered, his irritation evident in the sharp edge of his voice. “not only did you drag me out here in the middle of the night, but now i have to sit here and freeze my ass off while we wait for this damn sunrise that might not even show up.”

he groaned, looking at you with an annoyed expression. “you’re impossible, you know that? this was all your messed up idea. i should’ve just stayed in bed.”

you continued to ignore him, staring straight ahead, your pout deepening as you refused to acknowledge his ranting. the coldness of the night air seemed to match your mood, and you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of getting under your skin. sukuna could complain all he wanted; you weren’t budging.

sukuna huffed, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at you, but your silence only made his irritation grow. he rolled his eyes dramatically, looking down at his watch to check the time. past 5 a.m. already, and yet the sky still hadn’t changed much. he frowned as he let out another annoyed sigh, starting to push himself up on his elbows.

his gaze drifted around, trying to spot any sign of the sunrise, but as he scanned the horizon, his brow furrowed. something didn’t feel right. he looked up at the sky again, squinting as he took in the way the light still hadn’t shifted. it was then that he realized, with a sense of realization, that you two were on the east coast, not the west. the sunrise wasn’t going to happen from this direction.

he glanced at you with an exasperated expression, muttering, “you’ve got to be kidding me... we’re on the damn east coast. the sunrise is on the other side.”

sukuna’s expression twisted into something between disbelief and irritation as he glanced at you. “are you an idiot or what?” he snapped, his tone sharp as he finally gave in to his frustration. “did you seriously not know how the sun works? i can’t believe i got dragged all the way here to sit and freeze my ass off because you didn’t even realize we’re on the damn east coast.”

his gaze was burning with a mix of annoyance and exasperation, though beneath it, there was a slight edge of guilt creeping in. deep down, he knew he shouldn’t be putting all the blame on you, especially considering he had been the one to drive you to this beach in the first place. but his pride wouldn’t let him admit that. he crossed his arms, scoffing. “great, now we’re stuck here, waiting for a sunrise that’s never gonna come.”

you scoffed and rolled your eyes in disbelief, clearly unimpressed with his accusation. “really? you’re gonna blame me? you’re the one who drove, idiot,” you shot back, your pout deepening into a frown as you glared at him. “i was asleep the whole damn ride, and now you’re the one who doesn’t even know where you’re going. so yeah, i’d say you’re the idiot here.” you crossed your arms, your expression growing more annoyed as you continued to glare at him, the frustration clearly etched on your face.

sukuna seethed with annoyance, his scowl deepening at your words. he clenched his jaw, clearly not used to being talked back to like this. “oh, please. don’t act like you’re some kind of genius now,” he shot back, his tone sharper than before. “you were the one who dragged me out of my bed in the middle of the night for this. and you expect me to just automatically know everything about a place i’ve never been to before? you want this sunrise so damn much, why don’t you figure out how to make one materialize out of thin air?”

he grumbled under his breath, his scowl deepening as he looked out at the ocean again. the sky was still stubbornly blue, no sign of the sunrise in sight. sukuna huffed irritably, muttering under his breath. “this is bullshit.”

you didn’t say anything in response, your lips pressed tightly together as you continued to lie there, the disappointment clear on your face. your pout deepened, and you couldn’t help but feel hurt by his harsh words, especially since all you had wanted was to spend a moment to watch sunrise, even if it was a silly one.

his tone had stung more than you cared to admit, and the way he seemed to blame you for everything, despite it being a joint mess, only added to the weight on your chest. you stared at the sky slowly shape-shifted to light blue, trying to hold back the frustration that welled up inside you. for a moment, you wondered if it was even worth it.

sukuna remained stubbornly silent for a few moments, too, a mix of frustration and stubbornness brewing within him once he glaze your expression with his eyes. he couldn’t understand why you were taking this so personally, why the lack of the sunrise was bothering you so much. it wasn’t as if this was a life-or-death situation; it was just a damn sunrise. he scoffed softly, rolling his eyes before finally speaking up, his tone still sharp.

“you’re acting like a child, you know that? it’s just a sunrise, for god’s sakes. is it really that important to you?” his scowl deepened as he watched you remain stubbornly silent, clearly bothered by his words. he had never been one for sensitivity or empathy. to him, your reaction seemed completely overblown and absurd, especially considering the situation you two were in. sukuna snorted softly, shaking his head.

“seriously? are you gonna be like this because the sunrise isn’t here? we already wasted all night driving here, and for what? a damn sunrise. you’re acting like a spoiled little brat,” he muttered, his tone laced with disdain. “grow up already.”

you didn’t respond to his words, instead choosing to turn your body away from him. you laid on your side, your back facing him now, a small tremble running through your shoulders. you could feel the hurt deepening, his words stinging more than you expected. the tears fell quietly, sliding down your cheeks, and you sniffled softly, doing your best to suppress the emotions building up inside you.

you had always known what kind of person sukuna was—his harshness, his lack of care for anything that didn’t serve his interests. you had seen it in his interactions with others, like his younger brother, yuuji, and the way he treated your friends. you always figured you could handle it, that you could deal with him because, at least sometimes, you saw the more hidden parts of him, the small cracks in the tough exterior. but now, hearing his words and feeling the sting of them so directly, it hurt more than you had expected.

you knew you weren’t perfect, that maybe you had been a little demanding with the whole sunrise idea, but that didn’t mean you deserved to be treated like this. you stayed quiet, feeling the weight of his words as the night dragged on, the sky still stubbornly blue, but became lighter now, and the silence between you two growing thicker.

sukuna sat watching you, his annoyance mixing with a hint of confusion. he had no idea why you were reacting this way, why you seemed so hurt by his words. he couldn’t understand how something so small and foolish as a sunrise could cause this kind of emotional outburst.

he huffed softly, his tone still laced with irritation. “seriously? you’re crying over a sunrise?” sukuna muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. “are you that weak-hearted? you wanted to see the damn sunrise, we didn’t get to see it. so what? suck it up.”

sukuna’s gaze lingered on the back of your head for a long moment, his annoyance slowly giving in to a hint of curiosity. he couldn’t help but feel a nagging sense of wrongness in seeing you hurt like this—the way you lay there with your back turned to him and how your shoulders trembled. despite his hardened exterior, sukuna wasn’t entirely heartless, and deep down, he knew that maybe he had been harsher to you than he needed to be.

he sighed quietly, his expression unreadable, as he spoke up again, his voice softer this time. “oi, look at me.” his words were gentle, an unexpected shift from his usual harshness, as if he couldn’t stand seeing you in this state. he knew he had a responsibility to at least try to comfort you, if only a little. he had never been good with emotions, and expressing them was even more challenging, but he feel the sting in his heart just by thinking of him hurting you. sukuna’s gaze was fixed on your trembling form, waiting for you to turn around and face him, just for a moment.

sukuna’s gaze lingered on you for a long moment, his irritation slowly giving way to something more complicated. watching you curl up on the sand, your back still turned to him and your shoulders trembling still, also, stirred a strange, unwelcome sense of guilt in his chest. it wasn’t like him to care about things like this, but there was something about seeing you so small and vulnerable that twisted at his insides.

but you didn’t move. you stayed stubbornly silent, your quiet sniffles filled the air. sukuna frowned, his jaw tightening in frustration. he wasn’t used to this—dealing with emotions, his or anyone else’s. but he couldn’t just leave you like this, as much as he wanted to pretend it wasn’t his problem.

“tch.” sukuna clicked his tongue in annoyance, pushing himself to his feet. “let’s get you home,” he muttered, his tone clipped but lacking its usual edge. when you didn’t respond, he rolled his eyes and nudged your back with the tip of his shoe.

“come on,” he said, his voice a little firmer this time. still, you ignored him, refusing to so much as glance his way. sukuna let out another heavy sigh, crouching down beside you. his large hand wrapped around your arm, pulling you upright with little effort.

now sitting up, your face was finally visible to him—pouting, tear-streaked, and red from crying. the sight made him pause, his irritation faltering as he took in your miserable expression. “seriously?” he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual bite.

he didn’t say anything more, just started folding up the blanket you had brought, shoving it into your backpack with a quick, careless motion. sliding the strap over his shoulder, sukuna stood and glanced around. the sky was already bright blue, with faint rays of sunlight breaking over the horizon.

he looked back down at you, still sitting on the sand with your arms wrapped around your knees, your pout deepening. he sighed again, reaching down to grab the collar of your shirt and tugging lightly, forcing you to stand. “quit sulking,” he grumbled, though there was an odd softness to his tone. you sniffled quietly, still refusing to look at him as you stood beside him.

sukuna sighed softly, running a hand through his unruly hair as he studied your tear-streaked face. he couldn’t deny the pang of guilt that tugged at his chest at the sight of you so visibly upset even when he wanted to. he knew he had been harsh, but he also knew that he didn’t know how to express his feelings in a way that wouldn’t feel forced or awkward. sukuna wasn’t good at this, but he couldn’t just leave you there, still crying over the sunrise and his harsh words. finally, he sighed, muttering softly, “oi, enough with the waterworks.”

his tone was gentle, the sharp edge from earlier gone. sukuna didn’t have the patience or know-how to comfort you with words, but he decided to try actions this time. he stepped closer to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you gently against his chest. his embrace was awkward as if he was unsure of what he was doing. but sukuna held you there for a moment, silently hoping that the gesture might bring some semblance of comfort.

you felt the stiff, awkward warmth of sukuna’s arms around your shoulders, a gesture so out of character that it startled you. you froze for a moment, unsure of how to respond. his embrace wasn’t exactly comforting—it was clumsy and uncomfortable, more like he was experimenting with something foreign to him.

your brows furrowed in confusion as you gently pushed him off, stepping back to look at him with a bewildered expression. “what are you doing?” you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief. sukuna’s scowl returned instantly, the hint of softness from earlier vanishing in an instant. before he could retort, you wiped your tears with the back of your hands and turned away, muttering to yourself as you started walking toward the car.

he stood there, dumbfounded, watching you stomp off. his jaw tightened, and he muttered under his breath, “bitch.” shaking his head, sukuna strode after you, quickly closing the distance between you. without warning, he grabbed the back of your collar, halting your determined march.

“this way, idiot,” he growled, dragging you in the opposite direction. you stumbled slightly as he led you toward the other side of the beach, his grip firm but not rough. as you looked up, you noticed the familiar sight of the park where the car was parked. “could’ve just told me,” you muttered, still sulking but didn’t do anything.

sukuna’s scowl deepened at your comment, his frustration returning. “oh, i’m sorry,” he replied sarcastically, a hint of venom in his voice. “did i not make it clear enough for your tiny brain? and here i was, thinking i was doing you a favor, trying to comfort your annoying crying ass.” he let go of your collar, the frustration evident in his movements as he strode a few steps ahead, grumbling to himself. “you should be grateful for even getting a scrap of my attention. you’re lucky i bother with you at all, considering how pathetic you are.”

you scowled deepened too at sukuna’s cutting words, his sarcasm and venom hitting harder than you wanted to admit, again. but instead of snapping back, you stayed quiet, scrunching up your face in silent mockery. your lips curled into an exaggerated pout, your brows furrowed dramatically as you mimicked his grumpy tone in your head.

just as you thought you’d gotten away with it, sukuna abruptly stopped. it was as if he had a sixth sense for your antics—or maybe just really good instincts. he turned around swiftly, his crimson eyes narrowing suspiciously. you barely managed to wipe the mockery off your face, replacing it with a neutral expression that screamed innocence.

“what?” you asked, your tone feigned and sweet, as if you hadn’t just been pulling faces behind his back. his glare deepened, clearly not buying it. “don’t ‘what’ me,” he grumbled, his voice laced with irritation. he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to grab the back of your collar once more. his grip wasn’t rough, it was never rough, but it was firm enough to show he wasn’t in the mood for any more games.

“walk faster, idiot, before i leave your ass here,” he muttered, tugging lightly to get you moving.

you huffed but complied, grumbling under your breath as you quickened your pace to match his. “maybe i’d prefer staying here,” you muttered, low enough that you thought he wouldn’t hear. “keep talking, and i’ll make sure you stay,” he shot back without even turning, his sharp ears catching every word. you bit your lip to stifle a laugh, annoyed but secretly amused by how easily he picked up on your muttering.

despite his usual annoyance, sukuna opened the door for you, his movements slower than usual. he gently nudged you toward the car, his gaze heavy as he looked down at you. you met his eyes, expression a mixture of innocence and just overly too cute for sukuna’s liking.

he didn’t say anything, and for a moment, the silence stretched between you two. sukuna just gave a lazy glance, then shut the door behind you with a soft thud. without a word, he walked to the other side of the car and got in, the door closing with a faint click.

the car’s engine hummed to life, and for the first time, you could feel the tension between you both, but it was different—quieter, somehow, as if something unspoken lingered in the air.

the engine’s soft hum filled the car as sukuna pulled out of the park, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. the silence was thick, almost deafening in a way. sukuna’s hands gripped the steering wheel with a slight tightness, indicating his conflicted feelings of irritation and concern for your earlier emotional outburst.

he glanced at you from the corner of his eye, stealing glances every now and then. sukuna’s brow was still furrowed, a deep crease etched onto it. he couldn’t shake the strange feeling that he had let you down in some way.

8 am.

sukuna grumbled to himself, hands stuffed deep in his pockets as he walked away from your house. he couldn’t figure out why he had stopped the car here instead of just driving to his own place. it wasn’t like your house was that far from his, but now he had to walk home alone in the cold morning air, irritated by his own decision.

“stupid,” he muttered under his breath, cursing you and the entire situation. “dumbass car ride, dumbass emotions. should’ve just let her drive herself. stupid decisions.”

his mind was a mess, the events of the past hours replaying in his head. he couldn’t help but feel frustrated—he didn’t like this weird tension, the things he’d said and done. but it didn’t matter, right? it wasn’t his fault that everything was so damn complicated. “whatever,” he mumbled again, his words lost in the wind as he trudged forward, not bothering to look back.

the door of your house slowly creaked open, the old hinges protesting softly under the weight of the door. you cautiously glanced back at sukuna, the morning sunlight casting a warm golden hue on his figure. a small, almost invisible smile graced your lips as sukuna trudged forward, his muttering too low to be heard.

with a final glance in sukuna’s direction, you slipped into the house, the gentle sounds of the door closing behind you bringing a sense of relief. you leaned against the door, a newfound determination settling in your gut.

sukuna quickly stepped inside once he reached his house, shutting the door behind him with more force than necessary. he made his way to the kitchen, his heavy footsteps announcing his arrival. there, he found yuuji, his younger brother, perched on a stool with a bowl of cereal in front of him.

the pink-haired boy paused mid-bite, spoon hovering near his mouth as he noticed sukuna’s disheveled state. confusion etched across his face, yuuji asked, “where have you been?” his curious eyes followed sukuna, who was rummaging through the fridge with a deep scowl, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

sukuna didn’t even give yuuji a glance as he grumbled, “don’t ask.” he started pulling open drawers, searching hastily for a box of cereal. sukuna’s annoyance was evident as he continued his search. yuuji’s curiosity grew, he didn’t dare ask what had happened, but the visible frustration on sukuna’s face hinted at something more. after a small silence, sukuna finally found what he was looking for, his hands clutching a box of cereal tightly as he started preparing a bowl.

the silence that followed didn’t last long. yuuji, much like you, wasn’t one to let sukuna’s grumpy behavior slide without a bit of teasing. a smirk crept across his face as he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on the counter. “rough night, huh?” he drawled, his tone laced with amusement.

sukuna shot him a warning glance but didn’t reply, choosing instead to focus on pouring cereal into the bowl. “what happened, nii-san?” yuuji pressed, his smirk widening. “get dumped or something?”

sukuna scowled at yuuji’s teasing, his grip on the cereal box tightening. he set the box aside with more force than necessary, causing the cereal to spill slightly. “mind your own damn business,” he growled, his annoyance evident. sukuna poured the cereal into the bowl, ignoring yuuji’s comment.

yuuji, a master of egging sukuna on, simply grinned, not ready to back down. he leaned closer, a playful smirk on his face. “c’mon, tell me. was it a woman? did you finally meet someone who can put up with your grumpy ass?”

sukuna rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose as he tried to maintain what little patience he had left. setting his bowl down, he glanced at yuuji with a mix of irritation and curiosity. “was your friend always like that?” he asked, mind wondering to you, his voice carrying equal parts annoyance and genuine inquiry.

yuuji blinked, his grin faltering slightly as confusion replaced it. “who?” he asked, tilting his head like a puppy trying to understand something.

sukuna groaned, picking up his bowl and smacking yuuji lightly on the back of the head with his free hand. “dumbass,” he muttered, shaking his head as he turned and walked out of the kitchen. yuuji rubbed the back of his head, watching his older brother leave with an amused pout.

as sukuna made his way to the stairs, he called over his shoulder, “don’t wake me up. i’m sleeping the whole damn day.” his voice echoed through the house, leaving yuuji huff in annoyance to himself in the kitchen. “what a drama queen,” yuuji muttered, going back to his cereal.

sukuna grumbled under his breath as he stomped up the stairs, his heavy footfalls announcing his mood. the mention of you had only served to sour his mood further, the weight of the night’s events heavy on his mind. he made his way to his room, the door shutting with a sharp thud as he locked himself inside. out the bowl of cereal down to the desk, sukuna slumped onto his bed, pulling a pillow over his eyes to block out the world and the annoying thoughts that insisted on intruding in his head.

with a resigned grunt, sukuna tossed the pillow aside and sat up, his mind still plagued by thoughts of the morning. he glanced at the clock, the early hours only adding to the irritation that lingered in his mind. sukuna’s eyes drifted to the nearby mirror, catching a glimpse of his reflection.

his usual slicked-back hair was disheveled, and a faint shadow of stubble had formed stubble, a testament to his restless night. sukuna’s gaze narrowed as he took in his frazzled appearance. “great,” he muttered, frustration creeping into his voice again.

sukuna took a deep, steadying breath as he tried to shake off his annoyance. he ran a hand through his messy hair, making an attempt to smooth it down. sukuna couldn’t help but scoff at his own reflection, “look at you, acting like a fool,” he muttered to himself, his tone laced with bitterness. “all this over what? a crying face and some childish banter?”

he knew the answer, but he didn’t want to admit it. he couldn’t shake the image of you in his head, your face etched in his thoughts. it was infuriating. sukuna let out a long, exasperated sigh, leaning back with a mix of frustration and defeat. the morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow in the room, but sukuna’s mood remained dark.

he tried to push the thoughts of you to the back of his mind, but your presence lingered, even in his room. sukuna had always prided himself on his ability to maintain his stoic exterior, but his encounter with you had managed to crack through that facade and now it was beginning to drive him insane. his fists clenched the sheets, the frustration boiling inside him.

sukuna let out a long, exasperated sigh, leaning back against the headboard with a mix of frustration and defeat. the morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow into the room, but it did little to brighten his mood. instead, the warmth only seemed to mock him, its brightness contrasting sharply with the storm raging inside him.

no matter how much he tried, sukuna couldn’t push the memory of you out of his mind. the sight of your trembling shoulders, the tears on your face, and the way you walked away without a backward glance haunted him. it gnawed at him, each memory more vivid than the last. sukuna had never been one to dwell on things, let alone feel guilt. but this? this was different. the words he had said to you, the harshness, the dismissal—it all felt wrong. he knew he had pushed you too far, but it was the way you had shut him out, the way you refused to even look at him, that cut him deeper than any punch could.

his fists clenched the sheets, frustration bubbling beneath his skin. why was he so affected by this? why did it feel like the world had shifted beneath his feet? sukuna had always prided himself on being unshakable, but with you, everything felt like it was slipping away.

he let out another sigh, trying to push the thoughts of you back down, but they wouldn’t stay buried. you were there, in his head, in his chest, in the silence that filled his room.

sukuna hated it.

and yet, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he needed to make things right. he wasn’t sure how to, or even if he could, but the idea of leaving things like they were... it ate at him. the more he thought about it, the more he realized he couldn’t just walk away from this. not without trying.

so, after days of wrestling with himself, of letting the guilt twist him into knots, sukuna finally decided he couldn’t ignore you anymore. he had to find you, maybe.

☆! TAGLIST :

@byerno6 @curtins @creamflix @m00nyt0astforever @starmapz @aerareads @loveperfectionchaos @jinxiewritings @batmanslobster @vitoshi @monic19 @jayathelostdragon @ureuphoriasworld @cvr2mya @satorustorm @toratsue @sukubusss @clp-84 @jasminelee324 @v1sque @after-laughter-come-tears @blubearxy @cherryredribbons @loveherplease911

© template by readyoregg

[unknowntoyou2205]

Hunters wife

Info: Dean never thought he’d be the man to settle down. But y/n (and Sam) changed all that.

Relationship: Dean Winchester x reader

warning: brief mention of death of parent

Dean and y/n had met during a case. Y/n’s father had been taken, and later killed, by a wendigo, not that y/n had been aware of what that was, and Sam and Dean had came by to check it out. Living on her own, y/n was hesitant to allow the two men into her house, but when Dean flashed his smile, y/n grew fond of them. During their research, the brothers seen a pattern on who the wendigo were going for, and y/n matched it. Dean felt protective of the woman he just met, and decided to warn her, but they’d been too late. Dean still remembered the teasing Sam had given them during the hunt to find the wendigo and it’s victims. They had found them under an old tree that had an opening, and y/n had been the one to make first contact with Dean when he cut her down. Pulling him into a hug, she looked at him before kissing him on the cheek.

“Dad’s dead.” y/n spoke, looking at a body that lay on the ground.

“I’m sorry y/n.” Dean spoke, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“He wasn’t the best dad but, he was all I had left of family.” Y/n spoke, tears building in her eyes before she dug her head in Dean’s shoulder.

‘What I do’ Dean mouthed at his brother as he stood still.

‘Comfort her’ Sam mouthed bag, gesturing a hug.

Dean wrapped his arms around y/n’s figure, patting her back before tightening his grip on her. He remembered her sniffles before pulling away, apologizing for being such a mess. The brothers had led y/n away from the scene before calling the cops, the lads telling the story of a ‘bear’ attack while y/n curled in on herself as she was checked over. For some reason Dean felt compelled to stay for the funeral, much to the surprise of Sam, which was small and only really included y/n and some friends of his dad. There was only the two of them, so y/n opted to get him cremated, avoiding all the trouble of burying him.

“I can’t stay here.” y/n spoke as she stood outside the church with the brothers.

“Come with us.” Sam spoke quickly, causing Dean to whip his head to him.

“Sam, are you crazy?” Dean snapped.

“We would love the company.” Sam replied, eyeing Dean as he spoke.

“Really? You’d want me, someone you barely know, join you guys?” Y/n spoke, unsure of what to say.

“Ah how bad can it be?”

“I don’t think y/n would like the living on the road lifestyle Sammy.” Dean stated.

“Actually, I’d love to.” Y/n smiled.

“Really?” Both brothers spoke, shocked at the answer.

“I always wanted to travel.” Y/n shrugged before walking away from the brothers.

“Sammy I swear..”

“You'll thank me later.” Sam smirked before jogging to catch up with y/n.

--

The next few months had been some of the most scary yet thrilling times of y/n’s life. Majority of her time was spent in a motel room while Dean and Sammy went on cases, but each night was spent with Dean at the bar, a beer in hand. Every morning she would go on a run with Sammy, and after she’d grab them some breakfast. She had managed to convince Dean to train her with their weapons, and had even begun to do research with them. Dean had grown fond of the girl that stayed with them, and during the rides Sam would feel like a third wheel with the conversations Dean and y/n would have. He would often but in with some sarcastic remark, and y/n would just go red while Dean would make a snarky reply. But it was no lie that the two had grown close.

Soon the two bedrooms turned to one, and y/n would often wind up in the same bed as Dean. The only time they didn’t was when an argument had entailed, which was very rare. Neither one of them made a move until Sam had cornered Dean one morning while y/n was out grabbing some breakfast.

Y/n remained at the door, staring at Dean as he refused to make eye contact. The room was silent, until y/n cleared her throat, moving to place the food on the table. Dean moved his head to watch her, before sighing and standing up from the bed, moving towards her.

“You know you like her?” Sam stated, once the door closed behind them.

“I don’t know what your talking about.” Dean stated, sitting on his bed.

“You know exactly what I’m on about. You like her, she likes you. Make a move already.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because Sam, you know me. I’ll fuck it over somehow.” Dean stated, throwing his arms out.

“No you won’t Dean, I’ve seen the way you look at her. Ever since she’s joined us you haven’t even looked at another woman, and that’s saying something for you.” Sam stated, his explanation making Dean raise an eye brow at him.

“Yeah well, I’m sure she don’t like me that way.”

“Are you blind?” Sam asked, laughing at his brother, “She idolizes you Dean. Out of both of us she goes out with you most nights to the bar, she asked you to teach her our world, hell she sleeps in your bed.”

“So, what. That means nothing.” Dean tried to deny.

“You and I both know your just making excuses. Your crazy for her Dean, just admit it.” Sam stated, and Dean looked down.

“You like me?” A voice spoke from the door, causing both brothers to look up in shock.

“Damn it Sam.” Dean sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.

“I’m not sorry.” Sam muttered to him, patting him on the shoulder before walking to y/n. “Thanks for breakfast y/n. I think I’ll eat outside today.” Sam smiled, grabbing his food from the girl before leaving the room.

Dean looked into y/n’s eyes, trying to read her. Seeing his weariness, y/n rolled her eyes and decided to close the gap, bringing her lips to his. Feeling her lips, Dean froze but quickly eased into it, grabbing her hips as their lips moved together. It was short and sweet, and y/n quickly pulled away from him, kissing his cheek.

“Y/n, I’m sorry that I like you.” Dean stated, standing behind her.

“Why are you sorry?” Y/n asked, turning around to face him.

“I don’t know, because you clearly don’t like me and..”

“Why says I don’t like you?” Y/n stated, scrunching her eyes in confusion.

“What?” Dean asked, generally confused.

“Your not one to say sorry, so don’t be. And your also not one to care what others think so don’t. I like you Dean, because of who you are.” Y/n stated, moving closer to Dean.

“My lifestyle..”

“OUR lifestyle isn’t perfect, but it’s ours. And I’m glad I joined you guys.” Y/n stated, placing her hands on Deans shoulders as she came closer.

“Let’s see how this goes. What’s the worse that can happen?” Y/n stated.

Dean just smirked before giving y/n a kiss before guiding her back towards the table. He reached behind her before pulling away from her, and y/n smirked when he seen him with his breakfast burrito. He just smirked back before taking a bite, causing y/n to roll her eyes.

---

That was three years ago, and since than their relationship had blossomed, Dean and y/n became closer than ever, and Dean grew protective of his girl when she started doing cases with them. Of course she was a natural, and Dean didn’t have to worry about much, and would smirk when he got to watch her fight for herself. The only time Dean had to save her was when Lucifer had taken her as leverage against the Winchester brothers. That was two years into their relationship, and had scared Dean enough that he knew what he had to do. It was how he ended up asking her to marry him.

Their relationship wasn’t one people would call a realistic relationship. Dean and y/n never done the whole ‘will you be my girlfriend/ boyfriend’ question. They never done anniversaries, they just knew they were together and that was that. So when asking her to marry her, that was no different. There was no engagement ring, he didn’t even get down on one knee. He just ran to her and pulled her into a kiss saying ‘that’s it, we’re getting married babe’ which had caused Sam to chuckle at his antics. But y/n didn’t care, she wasn’t one for flashy, and let’s be realistic, their lifestyle wouldn’t allow for it.

Even their ‘ceremony’ was short. The two went to get the marriage license, and once they had that Dean called Cas, who officiated the wedding for them. They didn’t even have wedding bands, until Sam showed up one day and handed Dean a box.

“What’s this?” Dean asked, looking at the box that was placed in his hand.

“Maybe open it.” Sam mused

“What is this?” Dean asked his brother as y/n came out from the bathroom, drying her hair with a towel from her shower.

“They’re rings Dean. Come on, must I do everything for this relationship that isn’t even mine.” Sam sighed.

“Sam, you didn’t have to.” Y/n gasped, looking at the rings in the box.

“Well I figured you may as well have at least the wedding band to show your with this idiot.” Sam mused, pointing at Dean.

“Hey.” Dean stated ,insulted.

“Your so sweet Sam, I don’t know what we’d do without you.” Y/n smiled, moving to kiss her brother in law on the cheek.

“Probably never be together and die alone.” Sam shrugged, causing y/n to swat at him as Dean shouted at him again.

“Well go on, may as well put them on together.” Sam indicated, sighing as he dragged y/n to stand in front of Dean.

“Y/n Winchester, the love of my life.” Dean smirked, taking the smaller silver ring, which had D & y/initial engraved on it, and sliding it on y/n’s ring finger.

“Dean Winchester, my one and only.” Y/n smiled, doing the same with the larger ring before Dean cupped her cheek and pulled her in for a kiss.

[johnbrand]

Catch! (βΓΦ)

Have you ever taken a moment to consider how fraternities are still alive these days? We have seen them featured in movies, television, and more recently across social media, but what do they even stand for? Originally, they were built around the concept of brotherhood among younger men entering adulthood, inspiring “fraternal” bonds that could remain strong throughout their lifetimes. Now however, they seem to be constantly embroiled in controversy. Whether it pertains issues of hazing, rapid partying, or the classic sexual harassment, fraternities should be on their way out.

But somehow, they are still sticking around. And worse yet, they appear to be stronger than ever. Young men from around the country are flocking to these institutions–and with no common reason either. Everyone wants to find parties, but you can do that anywhere on a college campus. Everyone wants to make new adult friends, so why not join an extracurricular? Or hit up a peer in your class? There seems to be no valid excuse for all these students to be flocking towards an organized brotherhood. So that raises the question again, how are fraternities still around?

One may guess it is in the marketing. The rampant partying, the buff shirtless men, the fraternal bonds; all of these are enticing to the viewer. And to be granted all three in a package together is even more appealing. But it is much simpler than that. Thanks to modern technology–and fraternities' centuries-old bank accounts–brothers are able to recruit faster and easier than ever. Even if the public is hankering down on initiation rites, fraternities have grown past the point of lengthy periods. Their new members can join in under a minute.

Let us draw out an example. A few of fraternities sponsor a trip out to a private beach. They provide drinks, snacks, and entertainment. It is a common event, showcasing to new students some of the best aspects of being a brother. One of the fraternal brothers, Clay, is holding a football and searching for his next recipient.

A member of Beta Gamma Phi (βΓΦ), Clay is tall, buff, and hairy, a perfect image of masculinity. From his chiseled jaw and strong stance, one can tell he has it all (like every fraternal brother does). Eventually, he spots his target: a junior specializing in mathematics.

“Catch!”

It is a simple command, and quickly the football is flying through the air. The pigskin itself appears rather ordinary, but as was mentioned before, technological and hefty financial advancements have made it anything but. Once activated by a brother’s touch, the leather absorbs the genetic print, the internal system downloading an almost identical copy. Of course, that copy cannot be completely accurate, otherwise fraternities would be running around with a bunch of clones (although some argue they already do). The imprint is just a base code, enough to replace the recipient’s genetic mainframe. The fine details are then adjusted accordingly by utilizing and recycling the remaining DNA.

Anyway, returning back to the scene, the enhanced initiation object flies toward the lonely junior. Christopher had only come here because his friend had begged him too, stating there was no reason not to partake in the festivities. A smaller-than-average lad lacking a strong will, he could often be a pushover, both in physical and social regards. So when he heard the strapping brother’s command, he did not think twice about turning around. And to his own shock, Christopher was able to catch the football, surprising himself as the leather made contact with his skin.

Once the contact is made, the fate is sealed: Beta Gamma Phi has secured its next brother. Clay’s genetic code is then rapidly installed into Christopher’s mainframe, his biological firewalls useless against the technology. Over the span of seconds, Clay is able to watch as his program is rescripted for Christopher’s body. The junior’s height soars up, easily passing the pseudo-mandatory "six feet and over" rule that all brothers silently abide by. Once that is secure, the muscles begin to inflate.

Firm pectorals, sculpted abdominals, arms that appeared engraved into stone. Christopher’s hands bloat around the football as his bare feet bloat out into the sand. Thick calves, beefy thighs, a plumper pouch and plumper rear. As Clay gets closer, he can visibly examine the flurries of hair that arise across Christopher’s previously-naked skin. Wider neck to support a deeper register, wider jaw to support a more masculine facial structure. Even Christopher’s hair, although a blonder brown compared to Clay’s almost-black, gels up into Clay’s signature hairstyle (although it was often hidden beneath a backwards baseball cap, as it was currently).

By the time Clay approaches βΓΦ’s newest brother, his genetic print had successfully completed installation. Christopher, or Chris as he would now insist to go by, held a near-identical copy of Clay’s mainframe. He displayed Clay’s musculature and masculinity, just in his own genetic font. And his mindset, values, and goals now mimicked the fraternal brother’s too. Chris would find his new purpose relishing in sports, sex, bonding with his brothers, and continuing this pattern through a career in exercise sciences. 

With a broad, pearly white smile and the football still in his right hand, Chris would then accept Clay’s invitation to join Beta Gamma Phi. Thanks to the technology, Chris would never know that he had had not once dreamed of becoming a fraternal brother, that his whole life had not been dedicated to upholding traditional masculinity. And eventually, it would be Chris and his fellow brothers’ turn to keep the fraternities alive by financing any options that would help them gain new members.

[kalims]

kiss your best friend | ignihyde

kiss your best friend and see how they react!

parts. one , two , three , four , five , six , seven

characters. idia, ortho

content. gender neutral reader as usual, platonic for the bby, wingman ortho at it again, forgot about this ngl

note. sorry guys idia's part was messy but I mean, I'm just portraying his chaotic feelings ig. I SWEAR ORTHO'S PART MAKES UP FOR IT SINCE HES THE CALMER ONE

damn part six finally hear after almost a year (I'm so sorry help)

idia

is having the fastest inner monolog you will ever hear in your life, if it was being read out loud that is. could be nominated as rapper of the year with how fast he's blurting out thoughts in his mind.

also probably vocals of the year too with how high pitched, and small in range it is. what a versatile king 🔥

'anywaysitooklike10yearstryingtofindthisitemcausetheysaidtheysawitbutohmygodwhatinthethreehellsishappeningOMGaretheykissingmechatamidreamingOMGimnot??WHAT WARAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA'

to make your life easier 'anyways it took like ten years trying to find this item cause they said they saw it but oh my god what in the three hells is happening OMG are they kissing me chat am I dreaming OMG I'm not??? WHAT *incoherent screeching.'

probably has never kissed anyone besides his body pillows which is just one sided making out so completely forgets his 'lessons on teaching himself how to kiss' and freezes up. comically gets goosebumps and remains frozen even after you pull away.

then starts turning red from feet to head??

he has so many questions that he in fact, does NOT want to ask cause even if it cost his life he can't question you if you guys are dating now cause YOU JUST KISSED HIM SO THAT MEANS YOU BOTH UPGRADE LEVELS.

wait he can't call it friendship level. clearly you're both past level 10 now right?? INTIMACY LEVEL???? HE DOESNT KNOW HES PANICKING.

is too awkward to ask and acts even more awkward as the time is more prolong during the time he's just left wondering what the hell you guys are now cause he's too pussy to do anything without confirmation that you're both duos for life now.

ortho

is the one idia rants to about his predicament right after you part ways.

like, idia doesn't even try to call or contact ortho through the means of technology even if it meant getting to talk faster. he's BOLTING to the dorm with his unathletic ass (with breaks in between.) because the tea he was going to spill was that good.

listens intently and goes :O when idia finally mentions the part where you randomly kiss him out of the blue, by the way only getting to the point after idia spills.. umm.. the wrong thing to be honest, literally retold the whole day until that point.

yeahhhh.. he has the energy atleast.

idia is probably telling ortho about how it meant nothing even though you literally outright kissed him, to the cheek, mouth, or something and he's still gonna say it didn't mean anything.

ortho gotta be the one telling idia to make the move cause no idiot would mistake that for nothing (except idia apparently but he'll have everyone know that his brother is a tech genius!!)

they both do one of those scenes in movies where P1 - idia, is talking to you in real life with an earpiece, and P2 - ortho is said person behind the earpiece. basically the one telling idia what he should do because that guy is too lost for his own good.

"brother move closer!"

"... isn't this too close already though--" <- embarrassed and regretting everything

in the end he did manage to get a label on the two of you, no thanks to HIM and all the thanks to ortho <3

note. ortho's part just ended up as an extension of idia's part but I always love to include him in everything :') just some behind the scenes on how idia actually got a relationship (ITS ALL ORTHO)

not pr, who prs anyways cries

[blamebrampton]

Books talk to each other. Mostly because practically every writer is also a voracious reader, but also because books arise out of times and places and we share a lot of our worlds these days. So it’s unsurprising that several novels I have hugely enjoyed over the past few years share the theme of the antiheroine who is past all giving of the fucks. Naomi Novik’s powerful dark sorceress kept on her own tight leash in the Scholomance books was a joy to follow; Xiran Jay Zhao’s Iron Widow slashed her way into my heart and now Sarah Rees Brennan’s Long Live Evil has added to a list of beloved antiheroines that probably started for me with Becky Sharp in Vanity Fair.

Coincidentally, when considering how to describe Long Live Evil without significant spoilers, I realised that it shared several major themes with Vanity Fair. Young woman unfairly treated by fate decides to embrace her slut era to survive a war zone – both very accurate and wildly inaccurate for both. LLE opens with main character Rae in a hospital bed, teasing her sister about a book series they both adore. Rae is taking refuge in the story they have shared over years because it is one of the few things they have left: she is losing her fight against cancer and has been losing parts of her life, family and memory as that fight has progressed.

My personal hospital experiences have all been to do with major traumas rather than illness, which I vastly prefer because if you don’t die in the first couple of days, you usually start mending and you can immediately make plans to make the best of whatever you’ve broken. Rees Brennan, however, famously wrote a very funny, very horrible, ‘Kids, you won’t believe what shenanigans your girl’s been up to now, it’s only stage four Hodgkins lymphoma!’ post on her Tumblr or LJ (someone who has been hit in the head with taxis fewer times than me will doubtless factcheck that in the notes) about seven or eight years ago and then faced the very serious business of trying to live. The hospital scenes are painfully authentic, as are the stories of people who have left Rae as she slipped further out of everyday life.

For Rees Brennan, a loving family and peer group were there to hold her as close as they could. For Rae, only her beloved little sister, Alice, and Time of Iron, their favourite fantasy series, remain. They read the books together, remember adventures cosplaying and watching the musical, they wonder about the final instalment; for Rae it’s a joy she can still share (even if she doesn’t remember as much as she should), for Alice, it’s her two greatest loves. When a strange woman offers a door into the world of the book and a possible magical cure to Rae, she wants it as much as she disbelieves it.

Stepping into Eyam, the land of Time of Iron, Rae finds herself in the body of a villain doomed to die the next day. No worries! She’s thought and fought her way out of worse scraps than this in her past as a head cheerleader, let alone while battling cancer. She can use her knowledge of the plot to change things! If only she remembered more of the books…

Portal fantasies are common enough, but not all play by the same rules. This isn’t Narnia, where the magical world is more real than our own, for Rae, the world of the book is nothing more a tool to get her hands on the cure. She doesn’t need to care about any of these people, they’re not real. Most of them speak in a formal language that relies on the conventions of fantasy literature (there is an ongoing, warm-hearted skewering of all Game of Thrones-esque texts running through both the story and the in-text ‘quotes’ from Time of Iron) and half the characters are known more by their descriptions rather than their names. So she will play the Beauty Dipped in Blood, with her questionable morals, impractical clothes and centre-of-balance-distorting boobs for the weeks that will pass until the cure is available. Whoever she has to shuffle in the plot to secure a place beside that cure, she will shuffle. While she’s not out to kill anyone, it’s not as though they were ever really alive. Not like her. If she has to be the villain to survive, she will be an impeccable one. The people will cheer evil on!

Obviously, little goes to plan. Rae’s illness has taught her cruelty, but she hasn’t forgotten what it is to be kind. Even as she manipulates her role into ongoing main character, she realises that’s not how anyone gets a happy ending. That’s not how she can live with herself. As she comes to think of the other people in the story as real, they become more so, both in how we read them and in how they impact the story. Rae remembers what it is like to make friends, which she never meant to, but, oh, the luxury after years of watching people slip away!

As in previous novel In Other Lands, Rees Brennan has a long list of fantasy tropes to embrace and undermine, and her deft touch with humour is as evident as ever here, but her publishers call this her first adult novel and there is a shift in tone from her previous works. Anger is more real and lasting. Consequences are more significant. Understanding is reached for, even if it’s bitter. One of my favourite things is that she lets her female characters rage, but never judges those who can’t, whether because they’re too powerless or just too tired, and her male characters are allowed to be people if they choose to be — which all but the most vainglorious do.

I hadn’t paid much attention beyond checking the release date for the book, so didn’t realise it was the first in a series. For me, it worked perfectly as a standalone novel, even with the unended threads, which would have perfectly balanced Rae’s unfinished life. That said, I am very happy to know we will spend more time with these characters in the future. I want more. I do want to know if there is a hope for Rae, if this is the fever dream of a fading life, if this is the story Alice has told to ease her sister from the world or something else. There are a dozen characters I hope for, at least three happy endings that would bring joy. But don’t wait for the next books: sink your teeth into this one and believe what it says about the importance of listening to stories rather than just falling in love with characters. Though if you find yourself cheering on Rae, or her servant Emer, the elusive Eric, Horrible Hortensia or almost any of the others, I am the last person who will judge you.

[insidekatmind]

Meet my sister P.20-Jude Bellingham

plot: Federico Valverde wants to introduce his younger sister to Jude, his teammate. He hoped that something romantic would be born between them seeing that their characters were perfect together but things take a different turn

Jason stared at Jude with a challenging expression, almost provocative, as if testing his limits. Every movement of his face, every tight little smirk, seemed calculated to irritate Jude. And, in truth, it was working. You noticed Jude’s jaw clench tighter and the arm around your shoulders grow firmer, as though he wanted to assert his presence even more.

Federico, observing the scene, let out a slight sigh and stepped forward. “Listen, Jason, maybe it’s better if you leave. I don’t think this is the time or place for this show.” His tone was firm but not aggressive. Clearly, he was trying to keep things under control.

However, you could tell that Federico’s words weren’t having much effect. Jason stayed put, rooted to the spot, continuing to glare at Jude. The tension in the air was palpable, and you worried Jude might lose his temper. With a decisive gesture, you raised your hand and gently placed it on Jude’s neck, stroking it softly. Then you leaned into his ear and whispered, in a voice only he could hear:

“He’s not worth it, Jude. Let him go. He doesn’t even deserve your anger.”

Jude took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Your touch and words seemed to work, though you could still see a flicker of irritation in his eyes. Slowly, his grip on your shoulders loosened slightly, and he looked at you with an expression that said: For you, only for you, I’ll let it go.

Federico, seizing the moment, stepped toward Jason again, this time more assertively. “You heard her, didn’t you? It’s better if you leave before things get messy.” His voice carried more authority now, and finally, Jason seemed to realize he had no allies here.

With one last look at you and a defiant glance at Jude, Jason turned on his heel and walked away, before he left he said something that was making Jude go and beat him up. "It doesn't end here darling, sooner or later I will find you alone and we will talk".

---

When Jason finally walked away, a heavy silence filled the room. You and Federico exchanged a glance, both of you focusing on Jude. The calm he displayed was just a facade; you knew him well enough to recognize the storm of anger he was holding back.

Federico scrutinized you, raising his eyebrows slightly in a questioning gesture. With a small nod, you signaled that it was best for him to leave you two alone. Federico nodded and, without a word, headed upstairs, leaving you alone with Jude.

You turned toward him and called out in a calm but firm voice:

"Jude?"

He didn’t turn around. He remained still, his shoulders stiff and his fists slightly clenched at his sides. You could see every muscle in his body was tense, as if he was battling with himself to keep his anger in check.

"Jude," you repeated, this time taking a step closer.

Still no response. The silence surrounding him was almost louder than any words he could have said. You stopped just a step behind him, hesitating for a moment before gently placing a hand on his back.

"Love, look at me," you whispered softly, trying to diffuse the tension in the air. But he didn’t turn. He didn’t move. Yet you could feel that your words were slowly starting to break through. You continued, your voice a mix of sweetness and firmness:

"I know you’re angry. And I understand. But he doesn’t matter. He has no power over us."

Jude closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath as if trying to gather the strength to calm down. But he still didn’t speak, the silence that followed was still heavy with emotion.

You moved even closer to Jude, ignoring the tension radiating from his body. With infinite tenderness, you lifted your hand and gently caressed his cheek, feeling his muscles relax slightly under your touch.

Finally, his eyes met yours. Those eyes that usually sparkled with confidence were now filled with conflicting emotions: anger and worry, but also a desperate need for reassurance. He had the look of a wounded puppy, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart ache for him.

"Jude," you whispered softly, bringing your face closer to his. Before he could respond, you pressed your lips to his in a sweet, reassuring kiss. For a moment, he hesitated, then responded with sudden passion, deepening the kiss. His hands settled firmly on your hips, pulling you toward him with a force that revealed just how much he needed you in that moment.

Without even realizing it, you threw yourself entirely into his arms, letting yourself be enveloped by his protective embrace. His hands moved along your back as the kiss grew more intense. Jude pulled you even closer, almost as if he were afraid to let you go.

"You’re all that matters," he murmured against your lips when you finally pulled back to catch your breath, his gaze locked onto yours. "I won’t let anyone come near you or ruin what we have."

His words, full of determination and love, made you smile softly as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "And I won’t let anyone take you away from me," you replied firmly.

He pulled you even tighter, his heartbeat pounding against yours as you stayed there, embraced and connected, forgetting everything else around you.

You stayed embraced in Jude's arms, your body perfectly nestled against his protective embrace. His head rested on your shoulder, his warm breath brushing your neck with every deep inhalation. Gently, your fingers began to run through his soft, curly hair, caressing it with slow, circular movements.

"Mmhm," he murmured with his eyes closed, his face relaxed as if all the stress had melted away under your touch. "Don’t stop, please..." he added with a husky, drowsy voice, making you smile tenderly.

"I wasn’t planning to," you replied with a small, amused smile, continuing to scratch his head. With each caress, he seemed to melt more into you, his body surrendering to yours as if you were his only safe haven.

Occasionally, you couldn’t resist and leaned in to give him a sweet kiss on the cheek. He shifted slightly, the corners of his lips lifting into a small, pleased smile. "Are you trying to make me fall asleep?" he murmured with a low, deep laugh, still with his eyes closed.

"Maybe," you answered in a soft, playful tone, placing another kiss on his cheek, this time a little longer, a little more affectionate. "You’re cuter when you sleep. You don’t think too much about everything else."

His arms tightened around you, as if he didn’t want to let you go. "Maybe I don’t think too much because you’re here," he whispered against your skin, making your heart race in your chest. His words made you smile like a lovesick teenager, the warmth of his affection enveloping you completely.

"Then I’ll always stay here," you responded, continuing to run your fingers through his hair and leaving him another kiss, this time closer to the corner of his lips.

"Always," he replied firmly, slowly opening his eyes to look at you with that deep, loving gaze that made you feel like you were the only person in the world. "If you leave, I’ll come get you wherever you are."

Your smile grew bigger, and you felt your heart swell with sweetness. "I’m not going anywhere, Jude," you promised, meeting his gaze confidently. "I’m yours, remember?"

"I remember perfectly," he responded before tilting his face and stealing a kiss from you, slow and sweet but with that touch of passion only he knew how to add. "And I'll never stop reminding you."

[anjelicawrites]

Can I please request a Aemond x reader x Aegon fic, where after the brothel scene in ep3, reader (who is Aegon’s wife) tries to repair the brother’s relationship with her pussy. Reader starts off the dominant one as she forces them to make up and gradually it switches and she becomes the one being dominated by them as they start to work together. Include whatever kinks or anything else you want, the main thing is that the brothers are as into each other as they are into reader. Thank you! 🧡

Hi nonnie! Thank you for sending this my way! I'm not sure if I managed to fulfill it perfectly but the muse grabbed my hand and took me down this road, I hope you'll enjoy this!

Warnings: angst, B&C has happened, loss of a child, reference of B&C threatening reader with rape, incest, a quick reference to Lucerys's death, a quick reference to the brothel scene, a quick reference to Jahaera's trauma after B&C, brothers fighting, guilt, mourning, reference to Aegon being unfaithful, Aegon's drunkenness, fear of death on the birthing bed, kissing, oral (f receiving), titty sucking, mommy kink, breastfeeding kink, p in v sex, anal sex, threesome, a bit of manipulation. A/N: reader is AFAB, when needed they/them pronouns used. Reader is referred to as "Wife".

You know it's late, the whole Red Keep asleep around you, yet you can't. You toss and turn in your bed, tired and wired up, your body begging for slumber, yet your brain still running, incapable of setting down.

A loud bang makes you jump with a scream locked behind your teeth. Your first instinct would be to hide under the covers like you used to do when you were a wee child, but that stopped being an option and everyone knows why.

You grab the heavier candlestick you can find and, with a beating heart, you pad to the day room that connects your chambers to the ones of your King husband; the source of the loud noises is there, barely muffled by the thick walls and the tapestries.

You can't hear anything over the mad beating of your heart and the whoosh of blood in your ears. There should be more security after the accident, you're safe, no harm shall befall you, nor your remaining children, then why is your hand shaking when you grab the knob?

With a mad scream you open the heavy door, ready to smash the head of whomever is here to attack you family again, and barely miss Aegon's head.

You can't stop the momentum and topple forward, Aemond's hands grabbing you the only reason you don't fall on the floor. Hastily you shrug his hold off your body and try to stand to regain your dignity, the candlestick held firmly against your heaving chest.

You're not sure of the expression you're wearing, but the smile on Aegon's face dies as soon as he meets your hardened stare.

He can barely stand, his hair an unkempt mop now, when they were nicely styled earlier in the night and Aemond, even though he looks prim and proper, has a strange light in his lonely eye, which doesn't meet yours as soon as you look at him.

"Why are you still awake, Wife?"

You can hear how hard Aegon tries not to slur his words, and that drives you even madder.

"I could ask you the same question, Lord Husband, but I already know the answer."

You advance towards the brothers and see Aegon trying to square his shoulders.

"The whole court knows where you've taken your Kingsguard to sully their sacred oath. You smell of alcohol, Lord Husband. I suppose a brothel is the best place where you can mourn, isn't it?"

Any remaining drunkenness leaves his body at your words, before he can answer, you turn towards your brother in law.

"The same goes for you Aemond, you reek of cheap perfume. At least you're sober, not that it changes anything." You spat, noticing how his whole composure hardens at your accusation.

"You should mind your words, Wife. You're talking to your king."

Your hands tighten around the candlestick at his words, the rage and the unspeakable pain simmering in your belly ever since that night seem to grow into a wildfire: all you've kept locked pushing to explode and destroy everything in its wake.

"My king? My king? Where was my king when those men came to my children's bedroom? My king was playing pretend on the throne with his imbecile friends, that's where he was, my king! Where was he when they cut his head off and threatened me with rape? Where was he when I mourned my child?"

You feel tears and bile well up, but you're not done, you rage is not satisfied, yet.

"I tell you where he was. Whoring around with his friends, promoting them to Kingsguards, destroying his father's scale model! That's where he was!"

You see the color drain from Aegon's face, he looks green as he takes a step behind, grabbing a chair to keep himself on his feet.

"And what about you, Aemond? Where was the man who swore to protect me and my children with his life? The good brother, the one I could trust when my husband failed me? In a brothel. You should have been here, keeping us safe!"

Aemond is different than Aegon, he doesn't show how he feels, yet you know you've hurt him, you can see in the way he stiffens up, his whole body turning into stone, and that's not enough, he's not suffering enough for his slights.

"My boy is dead, my Jahaerys is dead!" You shout. "Jahaera will only feel the coldness of his grave, not the gentle hold of his hand. Do you know, dear king, that she keeps saying that she's cold all the time? That she begs me to bundle her up more? You'd know if you had visited her at least once. And Maelor, my poor Maelor, now he has a target on his back, and no one to protect him."

You can feel wetness flow down your cheeks, on the inside you're hollow now, a void thing that can barely breath, strangled by pain, blinded by tears. Strength leaves your hand, forcing you to let go of the candlestick, the dull thud of it on the carpeted floor evades your ears, all you can hear is the mad sound of your temples beating a mad tattoo.

You don't care about the consequences of your words, what Aegon, what the king would do to you, you just want to be left alone to cry all the tears you haven't already wept.

Blindly you turn and head for your chambers, your hand slips on the doorknob and you don't even notice: you just want to lay on your bed, alone, and mourn.

"Wife..."

Aegon's hold is light on your upper arm, gently he turns you to look at him, all he receives are your fist banging on his chest, and your screams of pain.

"I wish I have never married you! I wished your whole family had perished with Old Valyria! I hate you so much Aegon! It should have been you! It should have been Aemond, not Jahaerys!"

You don't see his pained expression, he keeps you tight against his chest, letting you cry and scratch at his skin.

He knows he's been a lousy husband and a barely decent father. He's the mockery of a king and no good at taking care of the ones he loves; he can't give you Jahaerys back, if he could he would take his place immediately. To bore all your pain and anger is the meager offering he can give you.

"I wished that had happened. It would have saved you all this grief."

Aemond's words cut through your desperate crying. You were so focused on yourself you didn't notice he has followed you and Aegon in your bedchambers.

With light feet he approaches you, impossibly tall and does the unimaginable: he falls on his knees in front of you, head bent, like a penitent at the Sept's altar.

"I have deserted my post, forgotten my promise..."

He can't finish his sentence, Aegon's voice cutting through.

"All to suck on a whore's breasts."

You push Aegon's body away, only to take a few step backwards to distance yourself from both brothers.

You adjust the shawl you're wearing over your nightgown and assess the two of them with an hardened stare.

"Can't you see, Aegon? Even now you can't help but drive a hedge between you and Aemond, a hedge in our side! We need to be more united than ever, least Rhaenyra comes to kill us all, the way she did Jahaerys. Don't you understand that?"

"I didn't go for myself!" Your husband tries to justify his actions. "The young squire needed to know the ways of life before battle."

At that Aemond scoffs and stands up to his full height.

"What are you moaning about? You had your fun back in the day!"

"You didn't even ask if I had any!"

You look at the brothers fighting, again and again. There's a looming threat at Dragonstone, a very real one, that's already damaged the family once, and they're still at each other's throat.

"You might as well save Rhaenyra's time and open the city to her. That would save us the war and, maybe, she'll kill us all swiftly."

Your words cut through their fight, both brothers staring at you, confused.

"The more you work against one another, the easier it will be for her and the Rogue Prince to come and wipe us like an overused candle. You two need to work together, for our sake, for our children's sake!"

"We know how to work together!" Aegon answers, subconsciously looking around for a cup of wine

"Right now you two wouldn't know how to draw a circle using a glass, let alone conduct an army."

"We will never put our differences in the way of winning this war"

You stare at Aemond, trying to assess his words, the weight of trust you can put in them.

"Will you? Show me, then, how you two can work together."

Again the brothers look at you funnily.

"Come on, show me how you can be a team. I don't think you two are capable."

"I... I don't see how."

If the situation weren't this loaded you'd laugh at the dumbfounded expression on your husband's face: he's truly at loss here, and even his smart brother is grasping at straws.

Later, you'll tell yourself grief clouded your judgement. Praying at the Sept with the Queen Dowager you'd repeat that over and over again, right now you perfectly know what you're doing as you throw your shawl on the floor, closely followed by your nightgown.

In the pale candlelight you're naked, soft curves born out of two pregnancies in full display, your heart is hammering in your chest: Aegon hadn't seen you like this even since you two conceived Maelor, and he's always been your one and only, no other man had witnessed your body fully.

You're not willowy as you used to be, you're still breastfeeding therefore your breasts are larger, heavier. Having carried twins has left you with stretch marks on your thighs and bosom, you husband deserting your bed has put a huge dent in the way you look at yourself in the mirror. Yet you carry on, with a voice that desperately hides your anxiety: you have made your move, now it's up to them, and you can't go back.

"Seduce me. The bed is a good battlefield as any other."

You're not sure of their reaction. Aegon has preferred whores ever since Maelor was in utero, and you don't know if you have ever catch Aemond's interest. This can, potentially, go wrong in so many ways, but you're desperate, and desperate people make desperate decisions.

You can see the way both swallow, the pink raising on Aemond's cheeks, how Aegon's hand shakes as he takes yours: you know he desperately needs to drink, how scared he is. For all his boosting, you husband is still a young man, insecure even after whoring himself around Flea Bottom.

Aemond's lips are soft on the meat of your shoulder, he barely kisses you, as if afraid the Gods might strike him for his indiscretion; Aegon's eyes land on your breasts, his hands cup them with a sigh, and you wonder why he hasn't called for you, if he looks like he's missed their familiar weight.

You want to let yourself go in their warmth, feel their touch, so different, on your skin, yet they keep bickering. In between kisses and caresses, they never stop: they're with you in body, in spirit, they're still fighting at the brothel.

"This isn't working." You say, defeated, after they stopped kissing your skin to argue about what to do. "Nothing can truly help you work together."

Head bent you evade their dual embrace and try to locate your nightgown.

"Please close the door on your way out."

You don't see the glance they share, you can't know how the challenge you now pose tickles the blood of the dragon flowing in their veins.

Aegon's hands curl around your upper arms, his hold is firm but gentle: he doesn't want to hurt you, but now he wants to show you what he's capable of doing.

"Not yet, sweet Wife, not yet."

"Let go of me, Aegon."

Swift and silent, Aemond is kneeling at your feet again, this time not like a penitent, but like a crouched animal, ready to pounce.

"You don't challenge a dragon and then decide when to stop, sweet Wife."

"I'm not joking Aegon."

"Nor are we." Aemond's voice is soft, and final. "Say the word and this stops, but you wanted to see us work towards a shared goal. Let us show you we can."

You let yourself be lost in Aemond's lonely gaze. The purple hue of his eye is shifting in the candlelight, their shadows doing nothing to hide his hunger: you'd never imagined he'd look at you this way.

You let out a small gasp when Aegon rests his chin on your shoulder, pouting, like a child.

"Let us, sweet Wife."

You know you aren't capable of deny them when his large palms cup your breasts again. Gently he massages them, moaning at the weight and warmth, his nimble fingers pinch your nipples, so sensitive ever since your pregnancy, forcing a long whine out of your lips.

You grab Aemond's head one handed, the other clenches on Aegon's side as your hips cant faster and faster, following your husband's pinching of your nipples: you're so needy you might come like this, untouched and pressed between their bodies.

"What do we have here?"

Your husband's voice is huskier now that milk has stained his fingers. Ashamed you try to hide your face, but he doesn't let you; with a dark smile he smears the milk on both your lips and your pearl. In the distance you hear Aemond groan with want.

"I'm sorry." You try to say. "There's always so much."

"Don't be. I always wondered what it tastes like."

It's like a dam has broken, when his lips land on yours, hungry and possessive, your mouth is already slack to welcome his tongue with a snuffed moan of want, that morphs into a whine when Aemond's hands grab your hips to smother his face in your center, his long tongue seeking the sweet taste of milk in your cunt.

They both kiss you like they own you. Aegon's tongue playful against yours, Aemond's is sloppy against your pearl, where he writes his love poem to you; his hands don't block your movements, he helps you ride his face, moaning at your taste, foreign and sweet, the vibration traveling your body like lightning, your high so close, so close, the pleasure of Aegon's fingers on your breasts spurring you on. There! There! You're almost there!

You whine, pathetically when Aemond removes his face, wet with spit and your essence, he angles it to look at Aegon, who squeezes your breasts again, until more milk spills and he can drench his hands with it, to use it to paint your cunt, mixing it with your honey, until you're on edge again, ready to explode, only then Aemond attacks you again, sloppy and fast he licks you, seeking that taste as Aegon kisses you with his hands still on your breasts, he massages the soft globes rhythmically, following his brother's hungry pace, driving your body into a frenzy.

Your hips move desperately following Aemond's tongue on your pearl, puffy and pulsating with every stroke, your knees wobble with pleasure, Aegon's mouth swallows all your screams, as pleasure grows and grows yet again in your belly, until it explodes behind your closed eyes.

You're woozy, you're legs are trembling and it's the brother's dual hold that keeps you up on your feet: it has been so long since you felt such undiluted pleasure that your body feels drunk with it.

"Undress, now!"

You try to bark your order but you hear how slurred your voice is.

"You're in no position to give orders."

Aegon's voice is playful, which makes your blood boil again. On trembling feet you turn around and grab the lapels of his half opened jerkin.

"Take your clothes off one another, Husband, now!"

You feel Aemond's hands on your hips, his lips on the base of your spine leave a soft kiss.

"Hae ao jaelagon. As you wish." He murmurs.

On trembling legs you walk to your bed and lie there, with your head on the fluffy pillows.

The brothers stand at the end of the massive frame, they look unsure and excited at the same time; to spur them on your spread your legs, offering the sight of your drenched cunt to them.

"I always have to do the work myself."

You wish your voice was stronger, not needy and broken as it comes out, that doesn't stop you from letting your fingers wander down your body until they reach your wet center. You moan when your pads find your pearl, swollen and drenched, and start massaging it slowly.

"I'm so close already." You whimper. "You two better hurry up, if I reach my end before you're done, you will not be allowed in my bed, aah!"

You try to keep your eyes open to observe the men, who look at you, pleasuring yourself, transfixed.

There's always been this undercurrent between them, energy that even them couldn't truly decipher, you want to see if you were right, if there's something there that goes beyond their brotherly bond.

Aemond is the first to act. With his good eye on you he hastily removes his brother's jerkin and attacks the knots keeping his shirt closed. Aegon seems to awake from his reverie when he feels his clothes being roughly removed from his body, his own hands are fast and hungry as he disrobes his younger brother, his lower lip bitten raw the more he discovers Aemond's alabaster skin; he moans when he sees his erection spring free from the confinement of his leather breeches, his mind imagining how it would feel to submit to the intrusion, to let his brother own his body in such a way.

For a second you don't exist, the room, King's Landing, the budding war, all forgotten when the brothers are naked in front of one another. Aemond's eye softens as it observes Aegon's pink skin, his pebbled nipples and cock, thick and ready: he hasn't been alone in his forbidden needs, it seems, not when Aegon takes a step towards him, only to go to his tip toes to brush his reddened lips on Aemond's.

The dam breaks, Aemond's control and inhibitions annihilated by his brother's taste; hungry he grabs Aegon's face to push it backwards, open his mouth and conquer it with his tongue, following the phantom taste of your sweet milk and Aegon's own, mingled.

Aemond doesn't realize he's pushed his brother's body against one of the columnar foot post of the canopied frame, he whines when Aegon's hand finds their weeping erections to jerk them fast, hungry, their lips disconnecting, only for Aegon to bite Aemond's sweaty shoulder, until the latter whines in pleasure.

"Like what... oh Gods! You see, Wife?"

Aegon is so close, not even in his wildest dreams this could have ever happen: Aemond's cock warm and hard like steel against his, his hips kicking against the wet hold, your sobs of pleasure and your eyes, full of lust and approval for the sight they are offering you.

"Yes! Yes!" You're delirious in your own need, another orgasm so close your cunt hurts with the need to be filled to the brim. "Come for me! Now!"

You try to time your pleasure with theirs, needing to come with them, but your body has a different plan, the knot in your belly breaks and you come, arching your back, screaming and they follow you, Aegon with a shout, Aemond with a long moan, pained when Aegon's hold doesn't release his softening cock. He has to push his brother away, loathing how cold he feels now, his trembling legs abandoning him to fall on the plush mattress, beckoned to you by your wet fingers.

He groans when your taste hits his tongue again, ravenous he licks your finger and moans when you push them inside his hungry mouth as far as they can go.

"Not fair. I wanted a taste!"

Your husband whines; rolling your eyes you spread your legs for him again.

"Come and lick me clean then."

The bed bounces under Aegon's weight, he enthusiastically dives in your center, tongue and mouth so ravenous he has to push your hips to the bed, or you'll break his nose.

You moan, torso arching again, you're so sensitive now, after two orgasms, and your husband knows how to devour you, all the little tricks he needs to drive you high again, ready to explode for him.

Aemond's head finds refuge on your shoulder, hungry he looks at his brother pleasuring you and fleetingly wonders why he seeks whores when he has you, warm and enticing, ready to pleasure him. He doesn't even realize his hand has traveled on one of your breasts, his palm is squeezing the soft globe gently, unsure of how hard he can go, until droplets of milk adorn your nipple, and need takes control again.

"Drink from me, Aemond, come."

Your voice is soft and laced with desire, yet he looks at your face to see if he truly can, and all he can see his your open smile.

"Kirimvose. Thank you." He murmurs, before latching on your breast, hungry like he's never been before.

Despite Aegon's ravenous desire, the orgasm crests slowly, following Aemond's soft suckling and his moans at the taste. Blindly you grab both their heads, drunk on the pleasure they're giving you, deaf but to the sound of your own whines of pleasure, until you come again on Aegon's tongue, who moans against your center, the vibrations pure torture against your pearl.

You lay boneless on the bed, staring at the brothers who, now, look at one another, still hungry for your taste and for each other.

Aegon initiates the kiss this time, one hand in Aemond's long hair he smashed their lips together, seeking the sweet taste of your milk, moaning when Aemond's tongue licks his mouth, only to try to subjugate his.

"He likes to have his hole played with." You say, with a smug smile.

Aemond abandons his conquest to let his brother ravage his neck and shoulder again, a dark glint in his eye.

"Iksos bona sīr. Is that so."

His fingers find the squelching mess that's your center to wet them, only to start playing with Aegon's puckered hole, who whines in response, hips kicking against Aemond's; your word, your order and he'll let his younger brother take him for your viewing pleasure, mind turned to shreds by the need to be buried inside of you, and to let Aemond play with his body.

"Not yet, Aemond." He manages to groan. "I need to come in them."

The brothers stare at one another, a silent dialogue pass as you feel the energy in the room shift while you look at their bodies entwined and tiredness seeps in your bones.

Aegon stares at you, hungry and more in control now that Aemond's fingers have stopped playing with his hole. His cock is so hard again, leaking and almost straining for your cunt; he moans when Aemond hugs him from behind, big hands on his chest, head on his shoulder.

"You have neglected the other breast. Go and do your duty." Aegon orders.

Aemond smirks but Aegon can see how feeble his control is; whatever this night has unlocked, it changes everything between you three, something that was needed.

Aegon lays on you, the cradle of your hips home as he slips inside your warmth; he whines when he bottoms out, so hot and perfect you are, the only true scabbard for his sword, no other cunt has ever felt like yours.

"I missed this." He moans as he slowly pushes in and out of you, unsure that you're listening now that your face is the picture of sexual pleasure. "Why didn't..." You arch and curl under and around him, your words lost for a second. "... call for me? Oh Gods!"

Aegon can feel control slip through his fingers as your cunt strangles his cock after a harsh suck on your nipple, he can feel the tendrils of pleasure spreading through his body with every thrust, flashes of white exploding behind his closed eyes.

"Can't risk... can't risk to lose you." He groans and stills when you curl your legs around his hips. "On... Gods! The birthing bed. I can't!"

Tears fall from his eyes when your caress his back and let him hide his face in the curve of your shoulder: you'd never imagine the ghost of the late queen would haunt him this way, he's never said a word about it, you didn't know if he even knew about her destiny.

"I will not die there, I promise you. Look at me, Aegon." Unwilling he faces you again, his eyes are red rimmed and desperate. "I will never leave your side, I swear on our children, Aegon!"

The mention of your remaining heirs has him cry harder and grab his brother's head to push their forehead together; over you Aemond seems taken aback, he tries to dislodge himself and Aegon grabs his hair with a tighter grip.

"I didn't want to make fun of you, I wanted to hurt you, punch you, make you feel a ounce of what I do even since Jahaerys."

Something had happened in the brothel, something you aren't privy of, something that seems to shake Aemond to his very core; for a second the younger man seems to turn into stone, no expression on his handsome face, before an array of emotions play there. You've never seen him this animated, not even when you saw him after Jahaerys's death.

"I do. Every waking moment." Aemond answers with a strangled voice. "I would have killed them, I would have..."

Aemond chokes on his words and hide his face against your shoulder. You can't see the tears but can feel his bigger body quake with them, over you Aegon seems equally distressed, it comes natural to you to whisper to him to find refuge against you.

You're not sure for how long the brothers cry silently in your arms, you're weeping as well, for the pain past and for the grief ahead of you all.

"I make you cry, always." Aegon says against your skin. "It's good tears, my love. Needed."

Both brothers dry your cheeks, their dual touch gentle and soft. You do the same, paying extra attention to the scar on Aemond's face, unsure of how much pain he feels: he might have kick started the war, but a part of your heart, cold and black, can't seem to pity him for Lucerys early end.

Aemond lets you remove his eye patch, he even smiles when he hears your murmuring how beautiful the sapphire is; he has to fight tears again when you kiss the length of his scar, butterfly kisses his numb skin can barely feel. Against his face you beg Aegon to move, to start taking you again; Aemond seals your lips with a deep kiss when his brother's hips start canting, slowly, reaching deeply inside of you, owning your body after deserting it for many, too many moons.

You're delirious with pleasure, you burn with it, your whole body sings with it as your feel your orgasm crest and crest, until you crash, followed by Aegon, who slumps in your arms as his flaccid cock slips out of your hole. You delude yourself with thinking you can feel his seed seep out of your cunt, warm and sticky; brokenly you beg the brothers to use your body as the shrine where they swear loyalty to one another, until Aegon rolls off you to make space for Aemond.

Your brother in law hovers over your body, his weight carried by one arm, the other in Aegon's hair as he starts suckling on your breast with soft moans of pleasure. You can barely make out Aemond's lovely face through your own tears, yet you can see the insecurity there.

"Have me, Aemond. I'm yours to take."

He murmurs something in High Valyrian, before sliding his erection against your overused cunt to wet it with both your honey and Aegon's seed. He groans when he breaches you, your cunt is so warm and perfect, drenched with your need and it sucks him in when he tries to go slow, mindful of how sore you must feel, the pleasure you're giving him drives him mad with the need to stay rooted inside of you for the rest of his days, your muscles massage him, your lovely voice spurs him on to own you, to spill his seed inside of you. He moans when you lock your legs around his hips, stopping him from pulling away and coming on your soft tummy: he's not going to taint you with a bastard, he'll never do such a terrible thing to you.

"It's too early to take, Aemond. Come inside of me." You plea after his cock head finds that spongy part that has your toes curl in pleasure. "Aemond I'm begging you!"

He can't deny you anything, he'll spend his life making up to you in any way possible; his thoughts frazzle and die the closer you're tethering him to his end, the longer your cunt strangles his cock and he knows you're close, because he's right behind you. With a shout you come, your cunt a painful vise around his cock and he follows you, his seed sucked greedily by your hungry hole.

You order them not to clean you, you want to feel their spent on your skin as you drift into slumber.

Aegon is the first to succumb to sleep, he hugs you from behind with his hands cupping your breasts; you're close as well and make a displeased sound when Aemond tries to leave the bed.

"Your handmaidens will discover us." He tells you. "They know they have to knock before entering." You answer, kissing his wrist. "And if you close the canopy they will see nothing. Lay with me, with us, where you belong."

In the dying light of the fire you see that violent array of emotions on his face again, and wonder if he's ever had the warmth of a lover lull him into sleep.

Fast he closes the thick drapes around the bed and lays on the mattress, facing you. He looks so young, younger than his ears with his air down and his cheeks pink. Behind you Aegon snores and you have to choke on a giggle.

"This is the reason why we sleep in separate beds. He's very loud even when asleep." You smile.

Aemond doesn't speak for an heartbeat, then he has to muster all his courage to ask, almost shy

"Were you serious, before."

You take his hand in yours, letting your fingers entwine with his, so long and strong against your dainty ones.

"I am, Aemond. We can't let this family tear itself apart even more than it already did. I need you and Aegon to work together to keep us all safe. Look what the divide did to us." "If I knew, if I had an inkling..." "I know you would have made good to your promise. And you still can. We have so much to lose."

You know you're being manipulative, then again that part of yourself who died with your poor Jahaerys, that part that's so cold and dark, takes control, and you can't find in your heart to feel bad for what you're doing.

"I have a plan. Cole and I have one, no one knows about it." Aemond tells you after a spell of silence. "It's about Rook's Rest. It's a good plan, solid, it will help us on the long run." "Then talk to him about it before the next Council meeting. He will follow you if you give him the chance. He wants to do what is good by all of us, and he can't if he's left alone on the Throne. You two together can win this war and bring the Realm back to its glory! Not the Dowager Queen, nor your grandsire can do that, but you two, the true heirs of the Dragon."

Aemond stares at you, weighting your words against his torn heart, against all the pain Aegon has put him through: none of it matters if you are all dead and Rhaenyra sits on a throne that doesn't belong to her, warming it for her bastards who will lead the Realm into ruins.

"As you wish." He tells you, the hurt child in himself beaming at your smile. "Come now, you need to sleep."

You wake up in their arms, their erections poking at your holes, and it's only natural that Aegon slips inside of you, and begs Aemond to take him as he slowly fucks you again, long strokes against your battered walls. Aegon wails as Aemond pours oil on his hole and fucks him with his long fingers until the King his reduced into a babbling mess, only capable to grunt and keen when Aemond's bulbous cock head breaches his tight hole: it has been so long since he's let you fuck him, but that doesn't matter, not when he's pressed between you two, fucking and being fucked. Tears spill from his eyes when Aemond orders him to spear himself on his cock, he wails as the dual sensation of being sucked in and being open ravage his mind; he ruts like an animal inside of you, who lay there, canting your hips to take all of him, as he tries to bottom out on his brother's cock. He's a rag doll when Aemond takes control again, grabbing his hips to piston inside of him, and you, harsh and hungry. He bites Aegon's shoulder savagely and the latter drools in pain, and need, passing out when pleasure blanks his mind; Aemond doesn't stop fucking him, using his limp body as a proxy to take you, until you come for him, and he follows, slumping on the bed when it hurts to keep going.

By the end of the war, your husband and your brother in law wear the scars from their battles and you kiss them all. You hug Aemond tight when Vhagar seems unable to survive her clash against Daemon and Caraxes, you have a custom walking stick made for Aegon, whose left leg never healed properly after having slain Rhaenyra; most of all, you make sure your bedchamber is the actual Council, where your lovers can discuss the matters of the realm and find a united front against the Court. It's in your chambers that you three discuss the destiny of Aegon III and Viserys II and how those children can be used to unite the factions still reeling after the victory of the Green. Your lovers are not happy with your proposal, you three need to discuss for days before they can accept that those children can't be slain. They are not bastards, their deaths can be used by Rhaenyra's faction to start the war again, but if Aegon III and your beloved Jahaera will marry, it will bring unity to the realm and, if the child in your belly is a girl, her marriage to Viserys II will only straighten the family. You wish there was another way, but there isn't: those children will be raised at court, where they can learn the truth about the Dance, and how to love the family they have left. By the time they'll grow into men, they will be so entwined with you all, that they will not raise a hand against their wives, and the rest of you. With Maelor, they will lead the Realm into prosperity, along with the dragons, who will raise into numbers again, to make sure no one tries to attack you all. And, if the mad prophecy Viserys entrusted Rhaenyra with, babbled by her bastard son on his deathbed proves to be real, you all will need all the strength the Dragons can provide. And that's all it matters.

Ewanverse taglist: @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @zaldritzosrose

[samsno1]

Hi, idk how often you do requests but could you do a mid season Sam fic. The reader is with the FBI with the unexplained cases and she meets the brothers. It would be funny if they tried to convince her that they are also with the FBI and she somehow catches them in their lie. They work together in the case and Sam and the reader end up falling for eachother. Thanks you so so much!!!!

Caught

Sam Winchester X F!Reader

this took me so long to write i'm so sorry. i don't reeeeally like the ending but i did the best i could. i hope this is what you expected bby <3

Summary: You were assigned a complex case and you end up meeting two very weird men who were, apparently, also FBI agents but...why are they named after famous rockstars?

Warnings: FLUFF, descriptions of murderer, murder scenes and violence (usual supernatural shenanigans), sam is an 'intimidating woman enjoyer™', use of Y/N, the writer (me) has no idea how fbi works because she isn't an USA resident, NOT PROOF READ, english is not my first language

W.C.: 8,8k

enjoy!

You had climbed the ladder in the world of criminology considerably fast considering your age. Getting into the FBI in your late 20s was probably one of your biggest achievements and, of course, men tended to make disgusting comments about how such a young woman got such a difficult job – including claiming you opened your legs to get this far. You didn’t mind, actually, it added to your ego to be above those guys – as if they even deserved to be in a job that required empathy towards the victims.

Still, even your superior was shocked at the case he found. A couple had been killed inside their room without any signs of forced entry. All doors and windows were locked and nothing inside the house had been stolen; the bodies seemed to be torn apart from the inside out since there were no knife or bullet wounds and he put you on the case. He thought you would have the abilities to deal with something like this – ‘you’re a prodigy’ he had said – and the guts. The crime scene was absolutely vile; there was blood everywhere and their faces had the skin peeled off to the point their cranial bones were visible. You had seen some stuff, but nothing like this.

The first thing that you did when you got to town was talking with the local police so that you’d learn more about the town’s history with murderers – especially the unexplainable ones. They told you something close to an urban legend: the house that the couple was renting was cursed according to the locals. Decades ago, three kids got killed by their parents in rage, who committed suicide afterwards. They never found the kids bodies and the case went cold after a few years, the police giving up on finding their remains. You found that absolutely unacceptable, giving up on children like that should be a crime, but it wasn’t up to you. Ever since the assassination, every person that rented or bought the house died in unexplainable ways and the police had started to practically ignore or do the bare minimum on the case.

“We’ve been having problems with that house for years” Said the sheriff, a man with a grown out beard, deep eyebags and average height. Not what you would expect for a sheriff given his dismissiveness towards you and the mess his office was. “The previous sheriff also received complaints from townsfolk regarding the place but we could never find out anything. There were no clues, no suspects, just…nothing” He finished, his arms waving around tiredly.

“This is probably why they put the FBI on the case” You said to yourself, guaranteeing the man wouldn’t hear you. You took notes on your notebook, your legs crossed as you sat in front of the sheriff, his table between both of you. You could sense his eyes on you and feel his unasked question floating around in the air. “Anything else, Sheriff?” You asked, looking up from your notes.

He seemed to wake up from his thoughts, shaking his head lightly at you. “No it’s just…Why do you need three FBI agents to work on this?” He asked, on edge, a worry line prominent in his aged face as he squinted at you. Three? You furrowed your eyebrows and leaned back on the chair, closing your notebook.

“I’m not aware of the other two working alongside me” You say. You thought about what your boss had told you and didn’t remember him saying anything about partners, especially two. You usually worked alone most of the time, functioning better on your own. Then again, this was a difficult case, maybe they thought it was better than one federal agent working on this.

“They came by earlier today, asking about the same house and the murderers. They were tall, one of them was…very tall and had long hair. The other one was less serious and, honestly, unprofessional. I think they said they were agent Page and Plant” The sheriff filled you in and now this seemed like a joke. You raised an eyebrow. You had a peculiar taste in music considering it was the 2000s and your father barely listened to anything further than the 90s, resulting in you growing up to know most of the rock bands that were at their highest from the 60s to the 90s. That included Led Zeppelin. And it would be too big of a coincidence for both guys to work together with last names such as those.

“I’ll talk to them about the case, thank you very much Sheriff” You say, raising yourself from the chair and extending a hand to politely shake his. You walked out of his office with a question in your mind and thought about looking up Page and Plant on the database to see if anything showed up when you got to your room tonight. For now, you had to take a look at the crime scene while it was still daylight.

–

Your car’s engine died down as you turned the key. You opened the door and stepped out of the vehicle, adjusting your suit over the white button down you wore underneath. You shoved your car key in your pocket and, when you looked up, you saw another car that easily stood out from the others around the street – a black Chevrolet Impala which you couldn’t guess the specific year just by looking. It was a very beautiful car and you secretly praised in your mind whoever owned it – it seemed well taken care of.

You walked to the crime scene, taking your badge in hand to show it to the police officer that took care of the place when you saw two men, also in suits, talking with one of the officers – two tall men, one had longer hair. The officer approached you as you got closer and you simply showed your badge to him before he nodded and lifted up the ‘crime scene’ tape for you to go underneath. You ducked down and mumbled a thank you as you made a beeline towards the two guys.

You wondered what you were going to say and how you were going to question them about their identity without seeming like you’re assuming anything. As you walked closer, they were finishing their conversation and were turning to leave making you almost bump right into them. They stumbled back and you crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“Who are you?” The shorter one asked you and you took the badge out of your pocket again with a sigh, making sure he reads your name and sees the picture of you that clearly stated you were a federal. He hummed and looked towards his partner, a silent conversation going on between them. You interrupt.

“And you?” You ask and they get their own badges out. You extend a hand to the taller one, silently asking you if you could take a look at it. He gave it to you willingly, which was one less red flag to take into consideration. You looked through everything and it all seemed alright…until you looked at the name on the bottom. Jimmy Page. Is this serious? You look up at them with a judging look and you see the tallest swallow harshly. “Your parents were big Led Zeppelin fans I assume” You say.

“Yeah, yeah they– ha– they were” Jimmy says in a way that’s not believable at all, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. The shorter one closes his eyes and shakes his head discreetly in disappointment – which doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You give Page his badge back and turn to – apparently – Plant.

“I didn’t know that I would have partners in this case, but maybe it’s for the better. What did you find out about the case? Just so we are on the same page” You look between both of them. Plant nudges his partner in the ribs and, before mumbling somewhat of a curse to Plant after practically jumping in place, Page starts to explain to you about their side of the investigation. He seemed professional enough, with a notebook in his hands as he told you everything they could make up from what they knew so far, even sharing with you his assumptions. You were impressed as you started telling him about what you thought – a weird case, too many murders, few clues…Plant stayed quiet most of the time until about halfway through your conversation he said he was going back to his car and you took that as a hint to call it a day.

“Well, I think we are going to work well together, Agent L/N” Page says with a polite smile and you nod, smiling yourself. You took one of your cards where your professional number was written on along with your name and offered it to him. He gently took it from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours.

“Just in case you have anything else to share” You said and he nodded, a strand of his hair falling over his face, which he mindlessly put back with a brush of his hand. “It was great meeting you, Agent Page”

“You too” He said and, sensing the end of the encounter, you started to walk back to your car. You still couldn’t shake the thought of those two being too suspicious for your liking and you were determined to look them up and see if Agents Jimmy Page and Robert Plant actually existed. You walked fast, your heels knocking against the concrete and you didn’t notice Page’s eyes on you, lost in the movement of your hair as you walked away. What woke him up from his trance, though, was his partner honking and signaling for him to hurry up. He rolled his eyes and walked to his own car, stealing one last glance at you. You turned your head back right on cue, giving him a polite smile and a small wave. He awkwardly waved goodbye back and started to walk to the honking Impala.

You had assumed the unknown car belonged to them and you had written down the plate in your notebook discreetly – just in case. You were impressed by their ability – well, Page’s ability – to analyze crime scenes but you weren’t stupid. You couldn’t just erase the fact that you had no idea who those two were and you were determined to find out, one way or another.

–

Meanwhile, in the Impala, Sam got inside the car in the passenger’s side, almost hitting his head on the roof – like he did most days. Dean was impatiently waiting for him to get in until he saw something clasped in his brother’s hand, his eyes quietly scanning the white paper. In Sam’s distraction, Dean reached for it before he could react. “Hey!”

“You got her number? Wow Sam, never thought of you like that” Dean teased as he looked through your name written in cursive writing and your phone number right under it. Sam snatched the small card back from his brother and shoved it in his pocket, glaring at Dean.

“Shut up man, this is her professional number, she gave it to me so we could talk” He defended as he put his seatbelt on. He mindlessly brushed a hand through his hair again, getting it out of his face as he heard Dean chuckle to himself as Baby’s engine roared to life. Sam looked back to his brother and waited for more teasing to come – as it always did.

“Yeah, talk.” He said, the double meaning in his words floating around in the air but being ignored by Sam. Dean pressed his foot on the pedal so the car would start to move as he shifted into gear. “Besides, she’s an actual FBI agent, don’t you think she’s going to suspect that we aren’t?”

“Dean, I did go to law school, I can manage my way out of this” Sam said with a mischievous smile. He really thought he could, he knew he was smart and he was a damn good liar – he lied in college for a very long time about who he was and what his family did. Not something to be proud of but it came in handy, especially when both him and his brother were in trouble. He had practically lied his whole life about who he truly was, not entirely giving away specific details – especially those who involved his family. Sometimes he regretted it – like he did with Jess – but it was always safer not to know, for both parties. Or so he thought.

“Don’t think she’s stupid–”

“I don’t think she’s stupid–”

“Let me finish” Dean scolded, raising a hand to silence his brother, his eyes still on the road. It was often funny to pay attention to their brotherly behavior and how anyone could know who was the oldest just by these simple interactions. Dean raised his hand and Sam silenced, listening, like how it was when they were kids. “Don’t think she’s naive, she is in the FBI, working alone on a case. I don’t know much about federals but I’m sure that’s not for everyone”

Sam stayed quiet. He knew Dean was right but it wouldn’t hurt to try. Still, he really didn’t think you were stupid, it was impossible to. The way you talked about the case in detail, relating your point of view and what you could gather in a few hours was more than enough evidence to show him you deserved this job more than anyone. He wasn’t used to seeing women in this field, but everytime he did he was convinced that men were definitely unfairly placed higher. Yet, he still didn’t want to get arrested again so he needed to convince you that he and Dean were legitimately federals.

The conversation drifted away in another direction as Sam stared out the window and replied to the small talk Dean made with him every now and then – when he didn’t crank up the volume once Metallica came into the radio playing Creeping Death while they were talking. With a chorus of ‘Die, die!’ being sung by Dean while he beat his hands on the steering wheel to the drum rhythm, Sam’s mind drifted away and he fell asleep with a head against the window, the tiredness of sleepless nights catching up to him.

–

These fuckers. You thought to yourself as you stared mouth agape to the pictures of who you learned were actually Sam and Dean Winchester – not Jimmy Page and Robert Plant. Two brothers, presumed dead a couple years ago.

Your coffee sat cold over the wooden table of the hotel you were staying the night at. You had already changed into your pajamas and taken a hot shower when you decided to take a look at the case again. Two hours later you remembered the two men you encountered and, when you looked a bit deeper in the police files, the results were horrifying. It actually wasn’t that hard to find out about them, a quick look through the FBI database and you found their exact faces – even if Pag- Sam’s hair was relatively shorter then now. You were beyond pissed, especially at yourself, how could you not have known this? How could you let yourself get played like this? Just because the tall guy was a bit of a nerd and kind of cute? Ugh!

You started pacing around your room, not knowing what to do. Confronting them could kill you, they were murderers after all, according to the database, they had killed civilians and federal agents equally as much. You were strong, both physically and mentally, but there was no way you were escaping two guys that were over six feet tall and weighed about two hundred pounds each. You had to play smart, you had to catch them in a weak moment and then. Bingo. You stopped in your tracks and – like a lightbulb lightened up above your head – you had the perfect plan. You had to wait until the next day for you to execute it but it was going to be worth it. You sent their mugshots to your phone through your e-mail and any other evidence that you could use against them.

You still felt slightly weirded out about them. They didn’t seem dangerous, they didn’t freak out the moment they saw you and they were confidently adding to the investigation with actual useful analysis. You were looking deeper through their files and found out they lost their mother in a fire at a very young age – the youngest wasn’t even one year old yet – and their father had died a couple years ago, in ‘06. They had a pretty sketchy life, living off stolen credit cards and fake identities but something interesting you found out was that Sam Winchester actually went to college, he went to Stanford and your eyes widened at that. You wondered what made him quit, maybe his father dying and his brother needing him, maybe he got kicked out, still, going to college after having a childhood like that was more than impressive.

You kept reading about them until the late hours of the night and you only noticed you fell asleep over the papers you left on the table and your computer when a phone ringing startled you awake. The noise echoed inside your head and, as you lifted your head, the sunlight getting into the room through the curtains hurt your eyes. You only noticed how bad you’d slept when you felt a pain shoot through your neck and down your back as you turned your head to look for the phone – great. You groaned and felt around the table with your hand until you felt the square shape of the device and its humming. You clicked to answer after slightly clearing your throat so you’d seem less sleepy and put the phone to your ear.

“Hello, Agent L/N speaking”

“Hey Y/N, how are things going?” The voice of your boss made you unconsciously straighten your back and swallow harshly. You looked at the time on your computer and your heart fell to your stomach. 11:36AM – shit! 

“Hey Sir, everything is running smoothly. I’m currently collecting evidence and later I’m going to the morgue so I can look through the autopsy”

“That’s great, you always do a great job kid” He said and you could feel him smiling on the other side of the line. You felt bad for kind of lying but you had been worrying about other stuff last night.

“Thank you Sir, I’ll report back to you as soon as possible” You reply.

You talked for a while longer as you disclosed the case and, when he finally hung up, it was already past noon. As you got ready for your day, doing your daily morning routine as quickly as you could, you felt your stomach rumble when you got out of the shower, reminding you that you hadn’t had breakfast. You decided then that it was better to stop at a diner or somewhere so you could eat something to go on with your day – since it was already lunchtime you couldn’t necessarily call this brunch. You finished getting ready, putting on your shoes and grabbing the keys to your car while you looked up the closest place to eat something quick.

You drove to the nearest diner that had a decent rating and stopped at the parking lot. When you looked around, you couldn’t believe your luck – or rather the lack of it. The infamous Impala was parked a couple meters from you in all its glory. You audibly sighed but you couldn’t just find another place to eat as quickly, besides, you know what they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Maybe eating at the same place as them was actually a good strategy. You grabbed your wallet and locked your car, confidently walking towards the diner entrance.

The bells dinged above your head as you got in, some eyes looking your way with the noise – including Sam’s. Him and his brother were sitting in a booth in the far corner of the diner, Sam turned in the direction of the door and Dean facing away from it, in his brother’s direction. Sam had his laptop open in front of him as he ate a salad, Dean was eating a burger. Thay had probably been talking before you came in because when you came through the door Sam went quiet as he looked over his brother’s shoulder and Dean kept talking, hunched over his food. You couldn’t listen to their conversation but you gave Sam a slight smile and a nod, your stomach turning as you faked sympathy, as if you didn’t just friendly greet a murderer. He nodded back and that's when Dean slightly turned to look behind him and see you, nodding as well.

You started to walk towards their table, the weight of your hidden gun on your hip more than evident. Just keep calm, you were trained for this. You decided to keep to yourself that you knew their true identity, after all, you were one step ahead of them and, deep down, you knew they could be useful. Their intelligence was beyond impressive – faking your death wasn’t something easy to do. You stood above them with a gentle smile.

“Hello agents, mind if I sit with you?” You asked as politely as you could. Sam scooted almost instantly, changing the placement of his laptop to the side of the window. You didn’t miss the eyebrow raise his brother gave him.

“Hey Ms. L/N. No, not at all, make yourself comfortable” He said, smiling at you. He has dimples you mentally stated.

“Yeah, please” Dean agreed, stretching a hand to the seat beside Sam. His voice was slightly muffled thanks to the food in his mouth and you internally cringed as you could see the chewed food when he talked.

“Thanks. No need to call me by my last name, you can just call me Y/N” You simply said as you sat down, looking almost immediately to the computer screen open in newspapers that dated a couple years back. Murders in the same house all with the same time frame from each other. “I see you work even while you were supposed to be on your break, careful not to burn out Agent Page” You said, looking at his side profile. He seemed embarrassed as your sweet voice got to his ears and awkwardly laughed.

“You know…you don’t need to call me Agent Page, that is just an alias, call me Smith, Sam Smith. That’s Dean Wesson” He said. Huh, claiming aliases, smart move Winchester. “And yeah, I’ve been taking a look at the history of the place, apparently–”

“It’s timed killing” You finished. You scooted slightly closer, pointing your finger to the screen where the date of the newspaper was written at. “Every two years on the same date someone was brutally murdered in the house.”

“Yeah and inside the same room too” Dean pointed out. That you hadn’t noticed. A waiter coming to get your order interrupted the conversation you three were having to get your order. You quickly looked through the menu deciding to eat the quickest and most nutritious stuff there could be at a diner. You thanked the boy that took your order and he walked in long strides towards the kitchen. You came back to the talk you were having with the two brothers and Dean continued. “The master suite. And always couples, someone seems to hate true love” He joked.

“Apparently. Have any ideas for suspects yet?” You asked. If you were going to play pretend you might as well acquire some useful information with it. The boys shared a look between them that they thought you wouldn’t catch, but you weren’t FBI for no reason.

“None yet, still looking into it” Sam said, suddenly seeming on edge, shifting his placement on the booth. You were good at reading body language, it was one of the main qualities that got you in the FBI, interrogating criminals was easy exactly because they couldn’t lie. When you learned their behavior and played your way into their head it destroyed them because even if they were silent, even if they didn’t say anything, you knew what they were lying about – flinching when you mention a certain name or changing the leg they were crossing under the table when you named an address. So, Sam couldn’t hide from you earlier, imagine now that you were inches away.

“Really?” You asked, raising an eyebrow and turning your torso slightly more in his direction, leaning your elbow on the table. He was trapped. You thought about confronting them here, questioning them about their identity in public but you thought better – they definitely had guns on them and two beats one. Either way, you’d put him in a challenging situation, confronting him without even disagreeing verbally. He felt intimidated and now seemed unsure of his own conclusion – how you loved playing these games.

“I mean there’s barely any clues” He laughed nervously. “I was going to call you to see if you had any idea”

“I don’t either, as you said, no leads” You said. The waiter arrived with your food right then and you politely thanked him, drifting away from the conversation you were having with Sam as you started to eat. This time you weren’t paying attention and Dean questioned Sam with a look. What is she on? And the youngest shrugged. You swallowed your food with a pleasant hum, just now noticing how hungry you truly were. “I was thinking we could go to the morgue, if you haven’t already. Take a look at the bodies, see if we find anything”

You were purposefully playing right into their game, faking cluesness and at the same time taking advantage of their abilities to solve the case. It was more important to you to solve whatever was going on to bring peace back to this town than to arrest the brothers who were supposed to be dead. You’d learned that men tended to believe that you were stupid very easily, that you had no idea what you were doing and you started using that to have your way with them. With big doe eyes and feigned innocence you could get very far.

“That’s where we were going later actually. It’s good if you tag along” Sam tells you.

“I would even if you didn’t want me to” You said, joking, but not really. Your tone was humorous  but your smile was bitter. They didn’t seem to notice though and Sam even chuckled slightly at your sarcasm. You noticed the dimples in his cheeks and how boyish his smile was, full of bright white teeth and sincerity. You almost felt bad for being rude until you remembered they were killers – even if they didn’t look like it. Sam didn’t seem the type to brutally murder someone, Dean seemed too stupid to be able to get away with it for so many years, even faking his own death and walking around normally – you’d bet he was the one with the idea to put the name of famous rockstars as FBI aliases.

By the time the conversation was over, so was your food. You left enough money for the bill and a tip and stood up from the booth. “Okay, well, let’s go, we have a lot to do today boys” You said, adjusting your suit, unnecessarily dusting it off. You eyed Dean’s plate, the mess he made similar to how a child would eat. You would have laughed if you were in a more friendly situation. You looked at Sam and with a smile you said: “Don’t be late pretty boy, I’ll be waiting for you”

Then you turned around, politely nodded goodbye to Dean and started walking away, holding back a laugh. Sam stood still, stunned as he stared at you walked out the door, the bells above you ringing twice – one for when you pulled the door, the other after you let it smoothly close behind you. Dean was staring too, his bright green eyes filled with confusion. Once he turned to look at Sam he saw his younger brother completely zoned out, looking in the direction where you once were. He snapped his fingers in front of Sam’s face, who immediately looked at Dean.

“Pretty boy?” Dean questioned, holding back a smirk as Sam rolled his eyes.

“Dean…”

“She’s got you man. I get it, strong and intimidating women, I understand, I understand”

“That’s not it, she seems…off” Sam points out, looking at the door once more to make sure you wouldn’t come back and leaning closer to unnecessarily speak in a lower voice to Dean. “I think she might be an it, the monster we are looking for”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Really? Why?”

“The way she’s acting is, I don’t know, weird”

“Look Sam I know you’re not used to having women hit on you but that doesn’t mean they are monsters” Dean teased, Sam gritted his teeth.

“Dean, I’m serious!”

“Okay, alright, we are going to investigate then” Dean said, raising his hands in fake surrender to his brother’s scolding. “But it doesn’t make sense to me. Didn’t we consider it to be a vengeful spirit?”

“Maybe, or maybe we are dealing with something completely different”

“Alright smart-ass, but if you’re wrong you owe me a six pack”

Sam scoffed but he wasn’t one to turn down any bet. He had thought your behavior was weird the moment you stepped foot in the diner. The questions you asked, the way you would constantly question his abilities, there was something going on and he could sense it. Besides, he liked betting with Dean, especially winning, so there was no way he wasn’t accepting his brother’s challenge.

“Deal” Sam said, hitting his palms against the table and standing up, ready to leave and go to the morgue. Dean followed his movements and stood up with a cheeky smile, taking out his wallet to pay for the food.

–

At the morgue, you waited about 5 minutes until they arrived. When they walked up to the entrance you were waiting at, Sam and Dean saw you in a much more serious state as you read through your notes and made annotations here and there. The noise of their footsteps made you look up and put your little notebook back in your pocket and place your pen behind your ear. You crossed your arms in front of your body and waited for them to get closer. Your heels were starting to hurt the bottom of your feet from standing too long in the same place and you were overwhelmed with different emotions – towards the men and yourself.

You weren’t necessarily scared of Sam and Dean, you were trained not to be, but it was never in your plans to be alone in a city with federal criminals, it would be downright ignorant not to be at least nervous with the situation. You were keeping yourself friendly without giving away any hint that you might know who they were, debating internally which would be the worst case: if you confronted them or stuck beside them for longer – what’s that say again? Friends close, enemies closer.

“Hey, Y/N” Sam called you and you turned your lips upwards in some-kind of a smile. He mirrored your expression and you caught his dimples again, your eyes wandering around his face. You broke the stare when Dean cleared his throat and, when you looked at him, he had his eyebrows furrowed, giving Sam a side-eye – more like a diagonal one, since, well, Sam was a big guy. In your own trance you hadn’t noticed how Sam was also looking at you like you were a beautiful piece of art – damn it, focus.

You also cleared your throat and that seemed to wake Sam up. “Hello Sam, Dean” You said, nodding to each “Shall we go inside? The longer we take the further the killer goes, come on” You turned your back to the and started walking inside the morgue. Dean waited until you walked further and held Sam by the elbow, making the youngest look at him in confusion.

“Stop that” Dean whisper-yelled.

“Stop what” Sam whispered back.

“Whatever your eyes are doing, I’m gonna puke if you keep that up”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You stop it, you’re reading too much into it”

“Hey, you are the one that said she might be dangerous and, honestly, you are kind of a monsterfu-”

“Dean!” Sam pushed his shoulder to shut him up.

“C’mon you were hypnotized, maybe that’s what she does, or you are just in love” Dean shrugged his shoulders, holding back a grin. He loved making Sam mad.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Let’s go now or do you have any other stupid remarks?” Sam didn’t wait for an answer as he followed the direction you went in. Dean mocked his brother, mimicking Sam’s words to himself in a high pitched tone and went along.

You were already putting your gloves on when they came into the room, the dead bodies laying before you - or at least what was left of them. The lower part of the couple’s bodies was covered beneath the pale blue blankets and both torsos were exposed. It was an awful sight and, if you were about ten years younger, you would’ve puked. Everything was dilacerated, they were practically disfigured, their faces barely recognizable. Huge gashes adorned their bodies that even cleaned up still looked absolutely vile. Behind you, Dean hissed.

“Wow” He exclaimed.

“Yeah, very brutal, whoever did this wanted them to feel the pain” You said, snapping the latex gloves against your wrist and grabbing the file about the autopsy in your hands. You skimmed through the words and placed it back on the table where it previously was, turning back to the bodies to see Sam already looking through them, Dean putting on the blue gloves the mortuary offered. You approached Sam’s side and crossed your arms as you watched him work, his hands roaming through the deep rips on the skin, he seemed to come to the same conclusion you did. “It’s not a clean cut, see” You pointed out and he nodded, turning to you.

“Yeah, the skin is–”

“Ripped, not cut” You paused “How can someone do this and just…get on with their lives?” You thought out loud. You discreetly looked up to Sam’s face to see if he had any reaction to your words, to see if his face faltered when you mentioned how psychotic it would be to keep going after killing someone, to see something, anything…

His face was blank.

“You’d be shocked at what…people can do” Sam replied. He seemed to hesitate before saying ‘people’, a hard swallow, a thought behind his eyes and you marked that in your mind for later.

“Sam, I work in the FBI too you know, I’ve seen shit” Maybe you were harsh, maybe you were just defensive or maybe the years of being brought down by men in your field made you snap at his words when they weren’t that deep. He seemed to catch on to your aggressiveness and stumbled over his words to try and reword his phrase.

“No– I-I know it’s just– I mean–” He couldn’t get the words out. You softened at that, noticing your defensiveness was, in fact, exaggerated. You chuckled at him and waved your hand dismissively.

“I get what you meant” You said and he seemed to calm down, giving you a slight smile. Dimples. Again. You turned back to the bodies in front of you and reached for your pocket to get your notes. You started patting with your other hand for your pen through the other pockets and when you didn’t feel the distinctively cylindrical shape of the object you started to freak out. Where’d I leave it…

Sam noticed your squirming and when he saw the notebook in your hand he knew exactly what you were looking for. He held back a chuckle as he watched you try your hardest to remember where the pen was, the concentration in your eyes almost touchable.

“Hey” Sam called and you turned your head to him. He reached his hand up, close to your cheek and you could sense the heat radiating from his body. You froze in place as you thought that you were caught, that Sam’s intelligence overpowered yours and he figured out that you knew who he was. Well, you were wrong. Sam caught the pen you had put behind your ear between his fingers and slid it off of it, watching as your hair fell back into place. You wanted to bury yourself whole inside the ground as you felt heat spread through your face. “Here” He said, with a cheeky smile.

You took the pen out of his hand, your fingers brushing lightly against each other “Thanks” You mumbled. You started writing away what you figured from the autopsy but you couldn’t get your mind off of how close Sam had gotten. The warmth that he emitted was captivating, comforting even. How could you even think that? You were a professional, what the hell! You shouldn’t be feeling this way, you had a job to do, lives to save. Sam was a killer, you put killers in jail. That’s it.

“Okay so…” Dean spoke up, breaking your embarrassment “...We can discard any murder with weapons like guns or knives, those can’t do…this” He made a face and pointed towards the wounds. You nodded in agreement as you wrote it down. When you looked up at them again they were sharing a look, having a full conversation without even speaking. You weren’t a professional in facial expressions but you could read the room, you were being kept in the dark about something. You decided against confronting them, unneeded drama in the current settings because, indeed, the longer you took to solve this case, the closer the killer was to killing other people.

“So, I have no idea if you already did but I didn’t look further in the room where the murder happened. I think I’m going to go back to the house and see if the local cops missed anything” You said, not waiting for an answer as you pocketed your notebook again and started taking off your gloves. You didn’t request their company as you were, first, still trying to figure out why they were so adamant about solving this case, second, you had to figure this murder out, and third, you needed to find a perfect moment to confront both of them. “See you around agents”

“See ya” Dean waved at you as you walked away, Sam didn’t say anything. You knew they were going to follow you, you felt their silent conversations lingering in the air as you left the room, discarding your gloves. In your head you could see them communicating with lifting eyebrows and shrugging shoulders – they were so obvious; and predictable.

–

“We are going after her” Sam said to Dean after he heard you leave. Dean nodded as he started taking off his own gloves, side eyeing his brother. Dean wasn’t stupid – he only acted like it – he knew that there was more than one reason for Sam’s eagerness to follow you.

“So…” He started and Sam knew there was something he might not like hearing coming. “Are you going to play the brave soldier saving the damsel in distress?”

Sam stopped and looked at Dean, absolute confusion adorning his features. “What?”

“Man c’mon, you can’t be thinking that she is the monster now can you? Look, I did the tests while you were…pining over her” Sam opened his mouth to argue but Dean didn’t let him speak. “There was holy water in her drink at the diner, the utensils she was using were pure silver…”

Sam was shocked that his brother thought that quickly, he didn’t even notice…Okay, maybe he was infatuated by you a little too much.

“She could be a ghoul,” Sam argued as a last resort.

“Already looked her up, no one that has that beautiful face has died around here. I’ve looked through the FBI database too, she’s there” Dean said. Sam would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the tiniest bit of relief knowing that you were really human. You were, in fact, beautiful, stunning even. Maybe Dean was right, maybe he did like you, a lot.

“Guess I owe you that six pack then” Sam said.

“Hey, I get the six pack, you get the girl, seems like a fair trade” Dean said, raising his eyebrows tauntingly with a cheeky smile on his face. Sam chuckled and shook his head.

“Either way, we have to go after her because if this ghost decides she’s next on its list, we need to get there before she gets hurt” Sam said in all seriousness as he started walking out of the room, going towards the exit. Dean followed suit, the Impala keys already on his hand.

–

They arrived at the house a minute or two after you. You were waiting in the house’s living room as you heard the rumbling of the old car’s engine. You had your weapon ready and loaded as you heard them open and close the door of the house. As soon as they turned the corner, you lifted your gun.

“Stay right fucking there! Don’t you dare move or else I’ll actually kill you, for good this time!” You screamed at them, gun in hand pointed towards Dean’s head. They widened their eyes and stopped all their movement. Sam opened his mouth to try and talk and you shifted the gun to point at him instead. He shut his mouth again and you saw his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. You were fuming, anger making your hands shake lightly.

“Did you really think you were going to fool me? Who do you think you are– Better, who do you think I am?” They stood as still as a rock. “Sam and Dean Winchester” You said their names, venom running through your tongue as you did, your gun pointing respectively at each. “You better start talking or I’m popping your heads off, speak!”

“Okay, okay, look we can explain” Sam started.

“You fucking better”

“We are not dead” He said and you looked at him like he was stupid. “Me and my brother we faked our deaths but we had a reason, a much bigger reason”

“You killed people”

“We didn’t, at least not intentionally, we do the exact opposite, we save people Y/N”

“How? The deaths are there, if you are telling me the truth and really save people you do a terrible job at that” You countered. You admitted you only said this to get under their skin because if anyone knew that saving everyone was impossible was you, a federal agent.

“Put the gun down and we can talk” Dean spoke up, talking to you calmly and moving his hands slowly to try and reason with you. You were reluctant but something in their eyes, their actions towards you didn’t indicate any imminent danger. Maybe you were being stupid and, at the end, you’d be lying in a ditch, lifeless, left there to rot but you wanted to give them a chance.

“If you try anything funny I’ll claw your eyes out with my bare hands” You said and Dean, even shocked, nodded slowly – you were exaggerating but you felt the need to. You sighed and put your gun back in the waistband of your pants and saw the boys breathe in a deep breath of relief.

Sam and Dean exchanged those looks again and finally looked at you. Sam was the one you wanted to talk to, you felt deep, deep down that he was going to tell you the truth and that he was actually a good guy, that all that he did until now wasn’t just an act and he was really nice.

“Me and Dean we…We hunt monsters”

Well, now your hopes are shattered. What the fuck.

You just looked at him like he was clinically insane and waited for him to continue.

“I know it sounds crazy” Because it is “And it probably is but it’s the truth, we don’t think whatever killed that couple was a human, this is why there’s no DNA, not a single clue and why the case is hard. I assume you were assigned it because you are smart and a good agent but this is not your kind of case”

“It’s ours” Dean added and Sam agreed with a nod.

You were dumbfounded. They sounded so serious as they explained to you about the tons of different supernatural beings that existed, things you only ever heard of in fictional books and horror movies. Halfway through the talk you looked physically sick, your face pale and eyes dissociated completely and Sam quickly got a chair, ushering you to sit down. He was looking at you with such a guilty expression, like he felt bad for lying to you.

Once they stopped talking you spent a good five minutes absorbing it all as you stared at your hands folded over your lap. You thought you knew things, you thought you could solve everything, that all you needed to do was analyze everything to its minute details and you’d find a solution. Truth is, you were completely oblivious all this long, so many things that you had no idea existed causing trouble around the world, things worse than humans could ever be. You were an idiot.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Sam asked after a while, making you look up at him. “I know it’s a lot to process…” He said, carefully laying a hand over your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you.

“I’m going to be fine” You said harshly. Sam felt the slight disappointment in your voice and frowned as he looked down at you. He had seen tons of different reactions to ‘the talk’ but this one was one of the worst, where the person feels upset with themselves for not knowing about this sooner, the kind of reaction he saw mostly on authority figures such as cops and federal agents like yourself.

You stood up and his hand fell from your shoulder. You needed to make this right, paranormal or not, this was still your case and you were solving it one way or another.

“Show me how you do it” You said, turning to look at Sam. The phrase got Dean’s attention as well as a sudden tension fell upon the room. Sam looked at you with confusion “This case is still mine, I want to learn how to get rid of…whatever killed that couple”

Sam exchanged looks with his brother. “I don’t think this is a good idea Y/N, you can get hurt” He said. You rolled your eyes and stepped closer to him, less than a foot between the two of you.

“How many times do I have to tell you, I’m a federal agent, you don’t get to tell me I’m going to get hurt when I literally hunt and kill people if needed” You said angrily pointing your finger at him accusingly “Your little Ghostbusters roleplay doesn’t scare me”

“Okay, can you two stop? Let’s get out of here and go study about the house to see if we find anything about someone who died here who might want revenge” Dean said, approaching and looking between the two of you. “Please”

–

After spending two hours in the nearby library you finally found something. The one responsible for the killings was someone named Alicia Meadows who died in the late 60s, not little kids – it seemed like even the own urban legend the locals passed around was wrong. She was a woman who lived in that house with her husband and kids. One night she found her husband in their bed with another woman and went crazy, killing them both with a shotgun and then shooting herself. Ever since then she’d been killing couples who stayed there, the trauma of the cheating made her assume that everyone who laid in that bed on the same date, every two years, she found her husband and his mistress was also having an affair.

You three soon found out where she was buried and, after the brothers explained to you and made you swear not to arrest them for grave violation, you were driving to the cemetery.

As Dean was digging up the casket you stood beside Sam. “Do you guys do this everyday?”

Sam looked at you with a smile. “No, sometimes we behead vampires too”

You looked at him wide eyed and chuckled. He laughed with you, his face looking ten times more beautiful under the moonlight and the fucking dimples, the damn dimples. Silence fell between you as the sounds of the night – and Dean’s digging – took over. You wanted to talk more, you wanted to know more about Sam because the little you thought you knew was actually a lie. He was nice and, according to the FBI files…

“You went to law school?” You asked him. He sighed. Well damn Y/N so much for breaking the ice, good job. 

“I did but…I went back to hunting soon after, you can’t run from this type of job you know?” He chuckled dryly. It was clear that was a sensitive subject for him to talk about.

“If it helps, you would’ve made a good lawyer” You smiled at him. “Besides, you look great in a suit”

He seemed stunned for a few seconds, were you flirting with him? He didn’t get to figure out because Dean made a dramatic pained sound as he straightened his back, breaking the casket open. The putrid smell of death rose and you scrunch your nose. Sam helped Dean get out of the hole and started showering the bones in alcohol and salt and you watched as Dean threw his lighter in making huge flames rise up. You jumped when it happened out of shock and Sam held your shoulders so you wouldn’t fall back, the flames roared loudly with what seemed to be the anger of the woman.

Dean started gathering their stuff and you turned to Sam. “So, is this it?”

“Yeah…pretty simple actually” Sam shrugged. He looked at the fire and you could see the flames dancing in his eyes. You found Sam handsome ever since you laid your eyes on him but now, after a whole day by his side, the light touches you shared throughout the day and the care he showed towards you you wondered if it’d be too bad if you kissed him right now.

“Sam” You called him lowly and he turned to you. You stepped closer and you could see his hands clenching and unclenching by his side, as if he was holding back the urge to touch you. Your faces were inches apart and you could now see every little detail about him. The light stubble that adorned his face and the blush of red in his cheeks that you didn’t know if it was because of the heat of the fire or because you were this close.

You smiled at him and in that moment Sam couldn’t hold himself back. He closed the distance between the two of you as one of his hands cradled your cheek and the other was gently placed on your waist.

You let one of your hands place itself on his neck as you reciprocated the kiss. It was electric and warm, his soft lips over yours felt like a sweetness you didn’t know you were craving to taste. Your heart was beating fast and Sam slowly dragged your body closer to his with the help of the hand he placed on your waist.

When you pulled away you slowly opened your eyes to look straight into his and let out a stupid giggle – like a teenager after kissing her crush. Sam chuckled back as his thumb caressed your cheek lovingly.

“I've wanted to do this ever since the diner” He admitted and you bit back a smile.

“Really?” You asked.

“Really”

The moment was interrupted when Dean honked the Impala, impatiently waiting for you two to finish whatever you were doing so he could go back to the room and finally sleep. Sam showed him the finger as Dean yelled a curse back making you laugh at their stupid teasing.

“Let’s go Sam, Dean’s impatient. We can finish our talk at the motel” You said, your words full of innuendo making Sam turn back to you. You knew you got him when you felt his hand squeeze your waist for a moment before letting go.

“Oh yeah?” He said with a grin, looking down at your mouth and back at your eyes. You nodded.

“Yeah”

A/N: Likes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback makes those writings better. Thank you for reading XoXo

[anistarrose]

The possible explanations for why the fuck Barry could've felt the need to open that scene with "are you afraid?" have been analyzed by this fandom for basically ever since the Red Robe identity reveal, and a lot of people have brought up good theories that I've adopted bits and pieces of from each. But one thing that I haven't actually seen proposed as a factor is this:

Talking to Tres Horny Boys through the facade of the faceless "Red Robe" might've just been Barry's backup plan. Plan A was, quite possibly, to sneak Junior's ichor out of Lucretia's private quarters, be able to actually inoculate THB, and actually have them recognize him. (A proper reunion, with no cryptic warnings. With no dancing around static — just Barry and Tres Horny Boys, actually trusting each other innately.)

Why do I think this is plausible? Let me clarify the timeline a little: at the start of the Petals arc, before THB leave the Bureau, all is normal with their soon to be ex-roommate Pringles/Robbie (Ep. 18). Upon return, THB are informed that at some point during their (overnight, so 24 hour-ish?) absence, Pringles was thrown in the brig (Ep. 28).

It's eventually revealed by Pringles and Barry, in The Suffering Game and Reunion Tour respectively, that Barry possessed Pringles to do "reconnaissance" on the Bureau, specifically on where to find the second Voidfish (ie, Lucretia's private office, which is where Pringles "woke up" and was "arrested summarily").

I will note that Barry describes this as just recon — implying information gathering, and not necessarily a Voidfish ichor heist. However, this was an explanation he gave through a recorded message in the coin, where he was likely choosing his words carefully to confuse THB the least amount possible. And moreover... I just find it hard to believe that Barry wouldn't let himself hope, leading up to and during this infiltration, that he could make it out with the ichor he so desperately needed.

After all, Barry may be Going Through It during the podcast, but he definitely knows that as much as he needs information, it's going to be a lot harder to pull off his eventual heist if Lucretia catches him in the act, and winds up knowing that he has that information. Barry also chose to make his infiltration attempt while the Bureau was distracted, monitoring the Gaia Sash — in a lot of ways, this might've seemed like not just his first chance at the ichor, but also his best chance at it.

Barry's both an incredibly determined and opportunistic, calculating guy. I don't think Barry would've left Pringles' body unless/until he was absolutely cornered; no hope left of getting out with the ichor this time. He wouldn't pass up a chance to restore his family's memories — because of his deep, deep emotional and practical stakes in restoring those memories, first and foremost — but he even feels kinda bad about possessing Pringles (calling it "unfortunate collateral damage"), and would certainly prefer for his unsavory tactics to be, you know, worth it.

So when Barry fails? When he comes away from his mission he's no doubt been planning for weeks, waiting intently and single-mindedly for his chance with the right Relic-based distraction — and it turns out he has information, but no ichor, to show for it? When he fails, Barry's left on the back foot.

He'd dared to hope it might turn out better than this. He'd dared to hope this might be a turning point, and the world might remain in danger, but at least he'd have his family back. He'd dared to hope he might be able to speak to them, in his right mind, with his memories, and be recognized for the first time in a decade.

So when none of that comes to fruition? When he knows his boys won't recognize him yet, no matter what he does? Yet he still needs them on his side? He still needs them to be prepared for the horrors coming?

Well, he just fucking improvises.

"Are you afraid?"