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leona-hawthorne · 2 days ago

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FICMAS #7— WHAT’S YOUR TYPE? / theodore nott

december 22nd

theodore nott x fem reader

summary: theo is smart, but he’s an idiot when it comes to taking hints. sometimes, you have to just give it to him.

warnings: smut, unprotected piv, oral m!receiving, google translated italian (sorry in advance)

words: 2.7k

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Theo had this way of existing—effortless, detached, like gravity bent to his whims. He lounged against the headboard, a cigarette between his fingers, the smoke curling upward in lazy spirals. You were convinced he didn’t even like smoking; he just enjoyed the ritual, the way it made his hands look purposeful.

The dorm was dim, the only light spilling from the bedside lamps. Everyone else was sprawled across the furniture, engaged in half-hearted conversations about Quidditch or the latest rumors circulating the castle. But your focus was locked on Theo. Always Theo.

“What’s that look for?” he asked, his lips curving into a smirk as he caught your gaze. His voice was low, teasing, pulling at some invisible thread in your chest.

“What look?” you shot back, tilting your head and feigning innocence.

He chuckled, a sound that sent warmth pooling in your stomach. He took a drag of his cigarette and passed it to you without a word. You accepted it, your fingers brushing his. The fleeting contact sent a shiver down your spine, but you masked it with a casual exhale of smoke.

“So, what’s the topic tonight?” you asked, your tone light.

Theo raised an eyebrow. “Define ‘topic.’”

“I mean, what bullshit are we debating? Everyone’s always got something to say about something.”

He glanced around the room, noting the fragmented conversations, before turning back to you. “I think we’re safe to create our own.”

“Fine,” you said, handing the cigarette back to him. “What’s your type?”

Theo blinked, caught off guard. “My type?”

“Yeah. You know, what you look for in someone. Or are you too much of a brooding intellectual to care about such trivial matters?”

His smirk returned, sharper this time. “I’ll have you know I’m very discerning.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you said, rolling your eyes. “But seriously, I want to know.”

He hesitated, the cigarette poised between his lips. “I don’t know. I guess someone who can hold their own. Smart, independent. Doesn’t take my shit.”

You snorted. “So, basically, someone who’s not a doormat.”

“Pretty much,” he admitted, shrugging. “What about you? What’s your type?”

You took a moment, pretending to ponder, even though the answer was sitting right next to you. “I’ve always thought intelligence is sexy. Like, really sexy. Bonus points if they speak another language.”

Theo glanced at you, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Oh, yeah? What’s so great about that?”

“It’s just impressive,” you said, leaning forward slightly. “Shows effort, you know? And…” You trailed off, letting the tension hang for a beat. “I’ve always been a sucker for blue eyes.”

His expression didn’t shift, but you could see the gears turning in his head. “Interesting.”

“Isn’t it?” you replied, your tone light but your gaze steady. He didn’t look away, and for a moment, you thought he might finally connect the dots. Instead, he leaned back, as if dismissing the comment entirely.

“What about personality?” he asked, like you hadn’t just described him to a T.

You sighed, exasperated. “Theo.”

“What?” he said, his voice full of feigned innocence.

“For fuck’s sake,” you muttered, grabbing his wrist and yanking him to his feet. The room barely registered the two of you leaving; everyone else was too absorbed in their own conversations.

Theo followed you into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind you. “Care to explain what’s going on?”

You turned to face him, your back against the door. “You’re supposed to be smart.”

“I am smart,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Then why are you so bloody dense?” you asked, stepping closer. He didn’t move, his eyes fixed on yours, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Am I?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave.

“Oh, you absolutely are,” you said, your hands finding the front of his shirt. “But I think I can help with that.”

The realization finally dawned on him, and his smirk widened. “Well, by all means, love. Enlighten me.”

You didn’t bother with a reply. Instead, you tugged him down by his collar and crashed your lips against his. Theo responded immediately, his hands bracing on your hips as he pressed you back against the door. The kiss was heated, messy, all teeth and desperation. You’d been waiting for this, and judging by the way his grip tightened, so had he.

“You’re insufferable,” you murmured against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“And yet you’re all over me,” he shot back, his tone smug. Before you could retort, his mouth was on yours again, silencing any comeback you might have had.

Your hands moved to the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head. Theo barely gave you a moment to breathe before he was on you again, his lips trailing down your jaw to the sensitive spot just below your ear. You gasped, your head tipping back against the door.

“I think I like it when you’re annoyed,” he murmured, his voice rough.

“Shut up,” you managed, but the words lacked any real venom. Your hands roamed over his chest, mapping out the planes of muscle and the scatter of freckles across his skin. He was impossibly warm, and you couldn’t get enough.

Theo’s hands slipped beneath your shirt, his fingers skimming over your bare skin. You shivered at the contact, your breath hitching as he pulled the fabric up and off. His gaze darkened as he took you in, his lips parting slightly.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his hands settling on your waist. “Così dannatamente carino.” (So fucking pretty.)

Heat bloomed in your cheeks, but you didn’t have time to feel self-conscious. Theo’s mouth was on you again, his kisses trailing down your neck and across your collarbone. Every touch, every movement felt like fire, and you couldn’t get enough of him.

“Theo,” you breathed, your fingers clutching at his shoulders. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes burning with intent.

Theo didn’t hesitate this time. His lips found yours again, hot and desperate, his hands roaming up your sides and pulling you against him like he needed you closer just to breathe. The counter dug into your back, but you didn’t care, not when his kisses were this consuming, his tongue brushing yours and leaving your head spinning.

But you’d waited long enough for him to figure this out, and patience wasn’t exactly your strong suit. You broke the kiss, your lips brushing his as you whispered, “Why’d it take so long for you to figure this one out, hm?”

His smirk reappeared, lazy and infuriating as his hands settled on your hips. “Maybe I just like taking my time.”

You huffed, turning him around so his back was now pressed against the counter. “Then let me spell it out for you,” you said, your fingers already moving to the buckle of his belt.

Theo’s breath hitched, his smirk faltering as you pulled the leather strap free and let it fall to the floor with a soft clink. Your fingers worked quickly, unfastening the button and zipper of his trousers, and when you pushed them down his hips, the tent in his boxers told you everything you needed to know.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his hands gripping the edge of the counter behind him as he stared down at you. “You’re not messing around, are you?”

“Not in the slightest,” you said, dropping to your knees in front of him.

You tugged his boxers down, and his cock sprang free, hard and flushed and already leaking at the tip. Theo let out a sharp exhale, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the counter harder. You glanced up at him, meeting his eyes as you wrapped a hand around him, giving a slow, deliberate stroke.

“Still confused?” you asked, smirking when his hips twitched at your touch.

“Not even a little,” he said, his voice rough and tight.

You didn’t give him time to say more. Leaning in, you flicked your tongue over the tip, tasting the salty bead of precum there before taking him into your mouth. The groan that tore from his throat was low and guttural, his head tipping back to rest against the mirror.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his fingers tangling in your hair as you took him deeper, hollowing your cheeks. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You hummed around him in response, the vibrations drawing another string of curses from his lips. Your hand worked the base of his cock in tandem with your mouth, your pace slow at first, teasing, before you gradually increased the intensity. His breathing grew heavier, his hips jerking slightly as you set a rhythm that had him unraveling beneath your touch.

“Shit,” he groaned, his voice breaking on the word. “You—God, you’re so fucking good at this.”

His praise spurred you on, your free hand sliding up his thigh to steady him as you took him deeper. He was losing control, his grip in your hair tightening, his moans turning into something desperate and raw.

“Fuck—” His hips bucked as his head fell forward, and he looked down at you with wide, blown pupils. “I’m—shit, I’m close.”

You didn’t stop. If anything, you doubled down, your tongue tracing the underside of his cock as you took him all the way to the back of your throat. That was all it took. With a sharp cry, his body tensed, and he spilled into your mouth, a broken groan tearing from his lips as he came undone.

You swallowed, pulling back slowly and wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. Theo’s chest was heaving, his hair a tousled mess as he leaned heavily against the counter, staring down at you like you’d just knocked the wind out of him.

“Holy fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair. “You’re insane.”

You stood, smirking as you leaned in close, your lips brushing his ear. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

He grabbed your hips in one quick motion, lifting you onto the counter like you weighed nothing. “Oh, I’ve figured it out now,” he murmured, his voice still rough, but his smirk returning full force. “But I’m not nearly done with you yet.”

Theo’s hands gripped your waist as he pulled you flush against him, his mouth crashing into yours. The kiss was frantic, his tongue brushing against yours as he poured every ounce of leftover tension into it. His hands wandered, sliding up your bare back, fingers tracing the curve of your spine before tangling in your hair to tilt your head back.

“You’re too fucking good at this,” he muttered against your lips, his voice low and thick. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“Maybe,” you teased, your voice breathless as his teeth grazed your bottom lip.

He chuckled darkly, nipping at the corner of your jaw before trailing kisses down the column of your neck. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”

“Pretty sure I am,” you quipped, your hands threading through his hair.

Theo groaned, his lips dragging over your collarbone. His hands skimmed your sides, his thumbs brushing under the waistband of your jeans. “We’ll see how clever you are when you’re begging me to let you cum.”

Before you could retort, he lifted and spun you around in one swift motion, your palms landing on the counter as he pressed your hips into the sink. You gasped, his chest flush against your back as he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear.

“Guarda te stessa,” he murmured, his tone dripping with sin. (Look at yourself.)

Your gaze lifted to the mirror, meeting your reflection. Your hair was disheveled, lips swollen from his kisses, chest rising and falling rapidly. Behind you, Theo was watching you with hooded eyes, his hair mussed and his pupils blown with lust.

“Sei bellissima così,” he said, his hands sliding down to unbutton your jeans. (You’re so beautiful like this.)

He pushed the denim down your legs, letting it pool at your ankles, and you kicked them off the rest of the way. His hands found your hips again, sliding over the curve of your ass as his lips pressed to your neck.

“You’re already so worked up,” he murmured, his fingers slipping between your thighs to brush over the damp fabric of your panties. “Fuck, you’re soaking.”

“Do something about it, then,” you shot back, your voice shaking slightly.

Theo grinned, his fingers curling into the waistband of your underwear. “Impatient, aren’t we?” He dragged them down slowly, letting them join your jeans on the floor.

His hand slid between your legs again, this time bare against your skin, and you gasped as he slipped a finger inside you, his touch teasing and deliberate.

“Così stretto,” he muttered, his breath hot against your ear. (So tight.)

You whimpered, pressing your hips back against him as he added a second finger, curling them just right. His other hand gripped your hip, holding you steady as he worked you open with slow, calculated strokes.

“Merda, sei perfetta,” he said, his voice rough. (Fuck, you’re perfect.)

You moaned, your head tipping forward, but he clicked his tongue, his hand moving to your chin to tilt your face back up.

“Guarda il specchio,” he ordered. “Voglio vederti quando vengo dentro di te.” (Look in the mirror. I want to see you when I come inside you.)

Sure, you didn’t understand a word of what he was saying, but fuck, you couldn’t get enough of him talking to you like that. You didn’t fight against his hand, meeting his intense gaze in the mirror.

Theo pulled his fingers away, and you heard the rustle of fabric as he kicked his trousers the rest of the way off. A moment later, his hands were on your hips again, guiding you back against him. You felt the head of his cock brush against your entrance, and he groaned, low and guttural, as he pushed inside.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, his grip tightening as he bottomed out. “You feel incredible.”

Your hands braced against the counter as he began to move, slow and deliberate at first, his hips rolling against yours in a rhythm that made your knees weak. He muttered something in Italian, his voice low and breathless, but you couldn’t make it out over the sound of your own moans.

“Che puttana carina,” he said, his teeth grazing your shoulder as he snapped his hips harder. (What a pretty little slut.)

You gasped, the words only spurring you on as you pushed back against him, meeting each thrust.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice rough and teasing. “To be fucked like this?”

“Yes,” you managed to say, your voice breaking as he hit a spot that had you seeing stars.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his hand sliding up to grip the back of your neck, holding you in place. “Take it all, bella. Sei mia.” (You’re mine.)

His thrusts grew faster, harder, and the bathroom filled with the sound of skin against skin, mingled with your moans and his curses in both English and Italian. You caught snippets of his words—“così stretta”, “troppo perfetta”, “dammi tutto”—and each one sent a new wave of heat coursing through you. (so tight, too perfect, give me everything)

Your legs trembled as the pressure built, your release teetering just out of reach. Theo seemed to sense it, one hand slipping between your thighs to circle your clit as he drove into you.

“Come for me,” he murmured, his voice raw. “Let me feel you.”

His words sent you over the edge, your body shattering around him as a cry tore from your throat. Theo groaned, his hips stuttering as he followed you moments later, spilling into you with a shuddering moan.

For a moment, the only sound was your heavy breathing, the two of you leaning against the counter, spent and satisfied. Theo pressed a lazy kiss to your shoulder, his tongue swirling over the skin and his hands roaming over your waist as he caught his breath.

“You’re my type,” he muttered, his voice still rough but laced with affection.

You smirked, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “Yeah, I fuckin’ better be.”

ficmas taglist: @winnie1emon @ur-local-wizard @satosugu4-ever @ankoluvs @superstargirll @slytherin-princess-x @abeoavita @mattheoriddle101 @georgiastars13 @smoooore @mattheoriddles-sluttt @2dloveshp @mattysprincess @catching-fire-in-the-wind @revesephemeres @esmerai-artemis @clar2aa @iamaconfusedpan

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scartale-an-undertale-au · 3 days ago

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So... I see this a decade after i decided to simply... Stop instigating conversations because i felt like im simply burdening others with my presence and that they actually felt annoyed having to hear from me and wished i wouldnt send messages.

The thing is that none of them ever approached me afterwards. When we saw each other after a while we would be ecstatic but there was a wall between us already and i dont know if its simply life going on and us being very different than back then, or that they truly didnt see me the same as i saw them (as my besties).

One time i met one of them (this one specifically was my best friend from first grade until twelve basically) on the street and i see that she's married and walking with her husband. Turns out the wedding was that sunday and i wasnt even notified of it happening or of the engagement. I wasnt mad about not being invited, but i was hurt for not even being notified! She then turned to her husband and said that im a friend of her from high school.

Its been a decade from high school so i can see why she said that, but that hurt me so badly that the moment i waved them goodbye and they disappeared around a corner, i collapsed and just sobbed. I was so heartbroken. It seemed that i was the only one who still thought of her as my old school's bestie or had thought of including her in any future milestones simply because she was so important to me.

So i dont know how i feel about this post. I understand where you guys are coming from and its in good intentions, but the main issue is that many kids who become the sole instigators were never shown that they can be vulnerable in front of their friends about this matter. It felt like its your duty and how you contribute to the group. And when it became harder and harder, the friends never questioned why you pulled away or asked for your wellbeing. It turned into a situation when you feel more like a nuisance than a leader.

Fortunately, i have now friends who instigate so much more than me and i keep telling them how i appreciate it and apologise for how terrible i am at texting back and that its never because i dont want them to text me. Its simply because texting or answering messages had become so hard for me and so mentally taxing i sometimes shut down when i see messages i need to reply to.

So rambling aside, as much as i appreciate your sentiment, i think a different approach would be helpful.

My approach (which is not better or worse, just a different approach) is to get comfortable with a 'friends for one day' reality. I go so many times to so many places and meet so many amazing people, we always say we'll contact one another and keep in touch and then never contact one another again, and that's alright.

You have to be comfortable with being friends without focusing on the 'keeping the friendship going' let people come and go. Those who truly want to stick around will stick around, and they usually have a much deeper connection with you that isnt dependant on who instigates the conversations.

My friends are those that mostly text in memes and reels since we dont see each other often. And i do the same in return. Its easier and relays so much more. We have proper conversations here and there, but our actual interactions happen physically. And they instigate meetups much more than i do and i always make sure that they know that i appreciate it. One of my friends and i also have some differences in opinions, so we have some long discussions.

I also have a friend who i dont text to at all but invites me to shabbat meals once in a while and i come over and its like no time had passed. I invite her back for bbq or shabbat as well, but thats also once in a blue moon.

Another friend is across the ocean so its mostly photos and small comments and talks about our lives and since the war began, she keeps checking if im alive and well.

Another friend is also across the ocean and we mostly speak about our realities of being jews or squeal over her precious daughter or make plans for when she finally comes to Israel.

So my friends arent part of one group but many branches of different aspects of my life. I would say i have around seven/eight of them that arent my current co workers (work friendship is also temporary and i accept that fully and enjoy our time together) and im truly blessed because i had let go of the desperate need to keep my friends together.

So please dont call us a bitch for not willing to talk about it. And we're certainly not mini community leaders, we're just people who are friends with those that never cared about reaching out first or affirming our friendship in any kind of way. Its not fair to put the expectations of reaching out onto the one who constantly did that. Friends who truly want to keep up a friendship will attempt to do so when they see that the other side isnt as present as previously.

Sorry im all over the place, im on my phone and its harder to articulate on it

every now and then the internet decides it should revamp the ole “stop texting first and see how many friends you lose” when in reality you could literally just communicate that u feel bad that ur the only one texting first

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shouyuus · 6 hours ago

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cheesy af but pussydrunk Vi accidentally mentioning marriage?

she... she would tho.

so painfully 18+, mndi, merry xmas to the gays and only the gays

just fucking you slow, after pulling a good few orgasms out of you already with her mouth and her fingers, after you've also made her eyes roll back with nothing but your tongue on her clit, your fingers reaching up to tug on her pierced nipples, the buds made that much more sensitive by the metal rods, her mind caught somewhere between her lips and the high cap of the ceiling in your dorm, the winter sun pale and timid, peering behind a sheaf of clouds, shining through the half-drawn blinds.

"fuck, sweet girl -- feel so good -- mmm --" she mumbles, not all that sure what she's even saying anymore, her hips rocking against you of it's own accord, her thumb pushed against the pad of your tongue as you moan around her finger, spit slicking across your lips.

"vi -- vi -- please, please, please --" you groan, hips bucking up weakly even as she rucks down over you, her breath breaking at the catch of your oversensitive clits rubbing against one another. she squeezes out a breath, frowning down at the mess of slick skin and reddening skin at the place where both your bodies connect, her mind a blissed out smear of want and love and not much else.

"feel so good, pretty, wanna make you cum again -- yeah? you want that?" she asks, hooking one of your legs over her shoulder, you tossing your head back into the sheets, fingers scrabbling at her thighs as she adjusts her angle and your cunts are slotting against each other in just the right way.

"wanna make you mine -- you mine, pretty girl? holy fuck --" and she's rambling, she knows she's rambling, the words just pouring from her before she has the chance to think them through, "all mine -- mmngh -- gonna be mine forever? yeah? god fuck, wanna fuck this pussy for the rest of my life -- you want that, pretty? wanna be mine forever? want me to wife you up? fuck yeah -- that'd be nice wouldn't it?"

you keen, the sound going straight to her clit as she gasps, and then you're cumming too, hard and fast, gushing against her, the peak of it so sudden she doesn't quite know what to do, but its so hot watching you come undone like this that it has her gasping a second later, her high hitting just has hard, her fingers digging into your thigh as she rides her her orgasm against you, even though you're oversensitive and twitching, she holds your hips, rocking into you till you're squirming, pushing weakly at her arms.

"holy shit vi..." you breathe, fighting to catch your breath.

vi chuckles, collapsing down next to you, an arm thrown casually over your middle as you cuddle in next to her.

after a few seconds you turn.

"d-did you mean it?"

"mean what, pretty girl?" she asks, turning slightly, her eyes still glazed out and dark, her cheeks bright with the glow of her recent orgasm. you lick your lips; she's so, so beautiful like this, fucked out and messy, and a little lovesick as she looks over your face.

"when you..." you gulp, "when you said you... wanted me to be yours... forever...?"

vi blinks at you for a few seconds before her pink cheeks stain an even darker shade of damson.

"holy fuck -- i -- sorry, i didn't know i said that out loud -- i didn't mean to --" she scrambles up, shaking her head. you chase her up, tugging on her arms.

"no, no! it's -- i mean -- i didn't mind -- i just --" you swallow, licking at your suddenly dry lips, "did you... did you really mean it?"

"i -- i don't wanna make you feel uncomfortable or anything but..." vi peers at you, almost shy as she twists her fingers in her lap, the blush now spreading down her neck into her chest and back. you bite back a giggle as you pillow your cheek on her shoulder.

"it... it doesn't make me uncomfy, i just... i just wanna know if you meant it."

vi licks her lips, glancing back at you.

"i-if i meant it... would you... would you say yes?"

you chew on the inside of your cheek, your eyes flickering up to meet hers.

a beat of silence passes between you before you smile, slow and indulgent.

"yeah. yeah... i would."

vi's expression breaks into shock, and then unbridled ecstasy. she stares at you, her eyes so wide they almost look like dinner plate, before she's dragging you forward into her lap, kissing you so hard you have to thump your fists against her chest to remind her to let you go.

"i -- sorry -- fuck -- that was -- i -- you -- god i love you so much, you know that?" she asks, cupping your cheeks and pressing her forehead to yours.

you laugh, toppling into her, the pair of you still naked, but the room is bubbling over with warmth.

"yeah, i know. i love you too, vi."

vi laughs, nodding, before she traces both thumbs along your cheeks and tilts your face up towards hers again.

"hey pretty girl... tell me again..."

you let out a shy little giggle, but vi holds you fast. her eyes soft on yours.

"will you marry me?"

you nod, your cheeks still squished between her palms, but your own hands find their way to her wrists as you turn to press a soft kiss to the pad of her hand.

"yes, vi. yes, i will."

#⛈ monsoon season #♨ steamy #arcane #vi x reader #arcane x reader #vi smut #arcane smut #vi x you #arcane x you #lesbian #wlw smut #wlw fanfic #lesbian smut #vi arcane x reader #vi fanfic #vi fluff #arcane fluff #HAPPY HOLIDAYS ALL MY VI OBSESSED BABES #HERE IS VI PROPOSING IN A SMEX INDUCED HIGH LMFAO #and yes. this is in my college vi verse #college roomate!vi x reader #bc like i can so see her doing this during ur last semester right like #winter sem right before ur about to graduate in may of the following year #the both of you choosing to stay in ur apt over the winter for idk why but u do #cuddling for warmth and just.... once break starts shed be fucking INSATIABLE teLL ME SHE WOULDN'T BE #(she would)#smex in the morning smex the afternoon smex at night before you guys go to bed #and vi would get so pvssydrunk cause like shes the kinda person who gets more turned on the more emotionally connected u guys are right #cause i feel like being kinda sorta touch starved thats just who she is as a person i fear #uh anyway. there's sesbian lex and also tr i b b in g so :) ENJOY????

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godmadeaterribleerror · 2 days ago

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Falling Into Me

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Smut (p in v, fingering, oral f receiving), angst, loss of virginity, light fluff, feelings :(, real bad self-image issues

Summary/Warnings: You're a virgin, and it's really not a big deal. Everyone was a virgin once. You're just a virgin longer. Maybe forever, because nobody really seems to be willing to solve that problem for you.

You've never told Sam and Dean, and you don't have any intention to. Ever. But when a hunt goes wrong, Dean finds out. And he might have been keeping something from you as well.

Author's Note: This might be the horniest thing I've ever written. Enjoy <3!

Title from Red Wine Supernova by Chappell Roan

Word Count: 8.9k

You haven’t slept in three days, and it’s starting to be a problem. But you can’t afford to sleep. You can only drink staler and staler coffee, sit at the motel table, and pretend this is a case that, somehow, you’re going to solve. That Dean isn’t grumpier than usual, and Sam doesn’t constantly look like he’s going to kill the next person that dares to have an incorrect idea. It’s why you volunteered for the next round of interviews. You don’t want to be there when one of them snaps and kills the other, and while you wouldn’t love to return to the room and find it covered in blood, at least then you’d have an excuse to call it.

You wouldn’t call it. You’d work the case until it was done, because that’s what you do. And Sam and Dean won’t kill each other, because they’re Sam and Dean. That said, you are expecting a pouting Dean to pacing back and forth outside the room as he waits for you to return, and a grumble about how Sammy said he was being annoying and needed to walk it off. You’re more than prepared to give him a sympathetic smile and ask him if he was being annoying. And he’ll probably protest that he wasn’t, and you’ll raise your brows, and he’ll admit he mighta been drumming really loud while eating the chips.

It’s not an unreasonable expectation. None of you have slept, because this thing is insane. There’s no obvious pattern to the victims, no connections, nothing in line with everything you’ve ever seen. It’s men and woman, a wide age range, no previous coflicts or knowledge of each other in life. There are holes through theirs chests that could be bullet wounds, but obviously aren’t, because Bullets don’t remove the heart from the body. But it’s not werewolves, because werewolves aren’t clean killers like this and every fucking person in this stupid town has passed the silver test. There’s a new kill every night, and a new body every morning, and another reason for you, Sam, and Dean to start screaming every day. Every hour makes you all wired, because it’s closer and closer to another evening where you won’t have caught this asshole and another person will die.

And it’s become really easy to get on each other’s nerves. Sam was mad at Dean because he’d purposefully gotten you all burgers instead of Sam’s rabbit food, you’re mad at Sam because he said you were bad at poker—and you are, but what the fuck—and Dean’s mad at you because-

Dean’s not mad at you. You and Dean don’t really get mad at each other. You understand each other, better than you’ve ever understood anyone else, and it’s the perfect amount of alike that you’ll lend him grace you wouldn’t lend anyone else—including yourself—but you don’t see enough of your own twisting, molding innards to hate him. You mostly see something better. A man that has all the same rotting parts, but has made something out of them while you just waste away in toxins.

And you think Dean sees something similar in you. It’s why you’d been obnoxiously chewing potato chips, right in his ear, and he hadn’t punched you or snatched the bag away from your hands. He’d just rolled his eyes, grabbed one of his own, and started chewing in Sam’s ear.

So you hadn’t really volunteered for interviews so much as been aggressively told by Sam you were doing interviews. And it was only fair Dean met the same fate.

But he hadn’t. And when you opened the door to the room, they both looked happy.

Dean practically shouts your name when he sees you, wildly gesturing for you to join them at the table. “Sammy found it!” He grins at you almost manically, and it’s a little adorable. “We can finally fucking leave.”

“I might have found it,” Sam corrects, his smile a little more tentative, but still real. “And we can’t leave yet. Not until we actually get the thing-“

“Obviously, dude, but that’ll be soon, instead of in a million years.” Dean looks to you for agreement. “I mean, c’mon. You guys can’t really wanna stay in hicktown Ohio forever?”

You shrug. “I dunno. Good coffee.”

Dean glares at you. “The coffee tastes like ass and you freakin’ know it-“

“Dean.” You give him a flat look. “Do I actually get to know what the monster is?”

Sam sighs. “You’re not gonna like it.”

“I already don’t love it, it’s a monster that’s killed like, ten people-“

“Worse than that.” Dean lets out a dry chuckle. “It’s sorta like a dragon.”

You, very suddenly, don’t feel really well. Everything is hotter than it had been a second ago, and the walls seem to be closing in as your skin begins to prickle and ache. “Like a dragon?” You ask, forcing your voice to remain steady. “Or a dragon?”

“Like a dragon. Tell her, Sammy.”

Sam shoots Dean a glare—not happy being thrown under the bus—and mutters, “It’s a unicorn.”

You stare at him for a long minute, then shake your head. “It’s a what.”

“Unicorn.” Sam mumbles. “They’re, uh, looks like they’re real.”

“But not Pinky Pie and Disney.” Dean adds, turning Sam’s laptop for you to read. “Real fucking assholes.”

“They hunt virgins.” Sam explains. “To bond with. And it’ll kill anyone who falsely lures it.”

“Stab the poor son of a bitch right through the heart, then pull that sucker right out.” Dean adds, spreading his legs and propping his elbows on his knees. “And it looks like it’ll go after chicks and dudes, any age, so that’s why there’s no pattern. You’re able to fuck, you’re fair game.”

“Oh, cool.” You mutter, a lump starting to form in your throat. “I’m always looking for equal opportunity murderers in the monsters I hunt.”

“Yeah, well, it’s gonna make it a little harder to find the thing.” Sam grabs his laptop back, frowning at the screen. “It’ll take a human form, then look for a virgin. And it won’t be able to tell until it gets the person’s heartbeat up, so it might be a guy or a girl, depending on who it’s hunting tonight.”

“But,” you glance at Dean, who’s grinning as you start to put it together. “It is hunting tonight.”

“Hunts every night.” Dean says, rubbing his hands together. “And we don’t know where, but we can take some guesses. Split up and look at all the bars in town ’till one of us finds something, then gank this douchebag and get the hell out of here.”

“Split up?” You whisper, something wired and flailing coiling around your guts. “That’s, um, shouldn’t we stick together? If it’ll go after anyone?”

“Not everyone.” Same shrugs. “Low, uh, body counts. I guess. Low enough that it can’t tell immediately.”

“So we just need a bunch of whores?"

Dean snorts. “Well tonight,” he spreads his arms, shooting you a wink that really isn’t helpful right now. “We’re the whores, Sweetheart. We’re safe, and we’re going to kick some unicorn ass.”

It’s a cheesy, stupid thing to say, and usually you’d laugh and crack a joke back. Something about unicorn ass and whores that you can’t really think of right now, because there’s bile in your throat and something heavy fogging over your brain.

“How do we, uh,” your tongue is numb in your mouth, and every word is dragged out of your throat. “How do we kick a unicorn’s ass.”

“Well, we’re looking for electrical malfunctions, golden eyes when it gets, uh, excited, and a refusal to drink anything but water.” Sam frowns at the screen, looking up at you with a half-shrug. “Anything amoral seems to knock it down, so just, uh, swear? Then shoot it with iron. Iron kills it.”

“And, um,” you swallow, tugging at the fabric of your sleeves. “What’s gonna to the virgin? If the unicorn finds it?”

Sam sighs. “They, uh, they seem to use them.”

Dean frowns, leaning around to try and read the screen. “Use them-“

“Their purity. Use their purity.” Sam raises his brows, and you can see the exact moment it clicks in Dean’s head.

“That’s...” Dean trails off, running a hand over his face. “Shit.”

Sam mutters an agreement, and your mouth feels like sandpaper, your heart beating like it’s trying to escape your chest.

“And after?” You whisper, a little unsure you want to actually ask the question, or know the answer. “After they’re used?”

“Well, they’re not ‘pure’ anymore.” Sam puts an air quote around pure, and you feel a little sick. “So, uh, stab.”

“Oh.” You nod slowly. You might need to lie down. “Stab.”

Dean looks over you with a drawn brow, his voice low and cautious as he says your name. “Are feelin’ okay-“

“I’m fine.” You remember how to smile, and hope it looks real. Not like your teeth are starting to feel out of place in your mouth, and you can’t seem to find enough spit to choke on. “Let’s get the unicorn ass.”

Dean doesn’t look convinced. Hell, Sam doesn’t look convinced. But they both let it go for now, and you can breathe just a little easier knowing you’re not barreling towards a fight.

But only a little easier.

Because you’re fucked.

Virginity is a funny thing. It’s just a social construct, but it’s a social construct some monsters seem to take as scripture, making it a hazardous thing to still have in your line of work.

And you hadn’t meant to be a hazard. It just kind of happened. Because it started as something that was a given to have, then turned into something that you just were a little too busy to lose, before becoming an awkward conversation you’re not willing to have. Something that hangs, silent and sharp, over your head and around your throat. Something that’s now a question of why? Why is it never you? You’re not ugly. You’re even pretty enough that, if you tell someone, they won’t believe you and it’ll all feel worse. You’re even pretty enough that you’ve seen people size you up at bars, but none of them ever approach you.

So it might just be you. You might just have something on your face that gives away that you’re more trouble than you’re worth, a little too rough to touch and not have it sting, telling people stay away.

And Sam and Dean will never know. You’re already a little younger, a little worse of a hunter, a small problem when they’re obviously trying to take someone to their bed but the girl sees you and makes quick and inaccurate assumptions. Sam is better at brushing them off—She’s like my little sister—but Dean gets red and awkward and suddenly loses all his well-practiced charm. He sulks back to the table, and won’t look you in the eyes for an hour or walk with you back to the bar. You’re honestly shocked neither of them have thrown you to the curb by now, an you’re not going to give them another reason to. Another reason for Sam to make a sad, puppy-eyed pity face and Dean to stare at you like he’s not sure you’re real. Like there’s no way someone could’ve possibility survived as a hunter like this.

And a small, well-contained part of you wishes Dean would look at you the way he looks at other women. Like they still have beautiful, horrible secrets that he’d love to uncover with only his hands and mouth.

You’ve got secrets. Dean can’t have them—because they’re a liability and you’re not looking to lose him forever—but you really wish he’d just look at you. Once, really look at you, and not see you. See something so much better, that you think he’s always a little close to finding, that nobody else ever seems willing to try and look for.

You’re a little grateful they left you alone in this backwater dive bar. It would hurt to watch Dean flirt right now, when everything feels raw and wired in your body, and every time someone drops next to you at the bar you feel more and more sick. There are quick, polite conversations with random strangers who sound like they’d rather be anywhere than here, with you, and by the time you’ve repeated your cover story for the eighth time your lungs are wrapped iron and your nails feel like a burden on your fingers.

It’ll be over by tonight. All three of you know what you’re looking for, so the unicorn will be dead before sunrise, and you won’t have to do any explanations about why you’ve been quiet and tense since Dean said like a dragon. Nobody will look at you with pity or confusion, nobody will get hurt, and you won’t end up with a hole in your heart as the only people that have ever seen you to be worth something realize just how wrong they were. That you’re really just a small, useless burden that even a literal monster wouldn’t be able to stomach the presence of-

“You here all by yourself?”

Something sparks in your gut at the voice, coming from off to the side, because for a second you really think it’s Dean. It’s deep, moves through your whole body, and knocks loose something in your lower gut that always makes you feel hungry, but it’s not Dean. When you turn, the man next to you looks like someone ran Dean through a printer too many times and he came out faded. A little too short, not quite as broad, all the pretty scars that make Dean Dean seemingly vanished, and a gleam in his eyes that Dean’s never had. It’s a little more feral, without any playfulness or glowing shadows. Too much yellow instead of green, the cocky smirk just a little off, none of it right. None of it Dean.

“I’m, um,” you frown, because this man even smells like Dean. “I’m waiting for a friend. He’s running late.”

Not-Dean clicks his tongue. “Shame, leaving a pretty girl like you all alone. You want some company until your boyfriend shows up?”

You shake your head, turning your glass around in your hand. “Not my boyfriend. And I’m actually…” You trail off, your eyes falling on the man’s own glass. The clear liquid inside. “You drinking vodka?”

“Am I- Oh, sure.” The man chuckles, raising his drink for you to click. “Here’s to not-boyfriends-“

“Can I have some?”

You watch the man carefully as he looks between you and the glass. “Nah, sweetie, you don’t want this, it’s some strong stuff-“

Sweetie. Not sweetheart. Not Dean, not right, not safe. And something is starting to crawl over your skin and shoot up your spine, making you sit a little taller as your heart pounds louder and louder.

As Not-Dean licks his lips, and scans over you with yellow eyes that might be shining.

Fuck.

“I, um, I’m gonna go call my friend.” You start to shift off your seat, pulling your phone slowly out of your pocket. “He should’ve been here a few minutes ago, and I’m worried-“

“C’mon, you haven’t even told me your name.” Not-Dean wiggles his brows, and it looks wrong on his face. “Bet I can guess, if you give me a hint-“

“No, it’s fine, my name is, uh…” you look down at your phone, the screen completely black. You’d charged it before you left.

“Your name?” Not-Dean prompts, grabbing your arm. Holding you near him, at the bar. “I’d really love to learn it. I could teach you a few things in exchange-“

“I was never given a name!” Your voice is a frantic shout, Not-Dean’s eyes narrow, and you do the only thing you can think of. Punch Not-Dean square in the face, yank your arm from his grip, and run. Fucking sprint out of the bar and not allow yourself to falter as you hear a roar that’s a little hoarse and off pitched. Like a horse keen. Like a wounded animal.

Like a monster.

Splitting up had been a terrible fucking idea. Now you’re alone, you don’t have even an idea where Sam and Dean are, and you can’t afford to stop and jack a car because you can hear it in the distance. Hooves, clapping against the pavement, getting closer and closer as you begin to run out of breath. You can’t hide, it can hear you, and you can’t go faster because you already feel faint and everything is beginning to collapse in your body. Muscles tightening and skin crawling and eyes pushing out of your skull, every breath too shallow and every step too short.

You fall to your knees behind a truck, wrapping a hand around your own throat and trying to force your heartbeat back down. Slow, even breathes that come out in choked gasps, nails digging into your skin as the hooves slow, and you hear a low sputtering sound from somewhere behind you.

And it’s too quiet. You can’t hear anything but your blood in your ears, and all you can see in the night is the flickering yellow light of a streetlamp in the distance. You squeeze your eyes shut and swallow every breath, hoping you can force yourself out before the unicorn finds you. You don’t want to be used. You don’t want to be alone. You just want Dean, where’s Dean, why the fuck did you let him leave you alone, why didn’t you tell him the truth, why can’t you think of anything else but Dean, where’s Dean-

There’s something hot on your neck, and a large presence at your side. Something like spit is being splattered on your neck, and you can’t contain the vomit when a too-rough hand trails up your arm-

“Get the fuck back, you son of a bitch!”

A loud bang cuts through the air—making you jump out of your skin as a heavy body slumps onto yours—and it sounds like church bells and music. It sounds like Dean. That’s his voice shouting your name, his arms wrapping around your body and carrying you away from the unicorn, his breath fanning over your face as he sits you on the curb and starts to turn your face in his hands.

“Fuck, never should’ve left you, but I didn’t-“ Dean cuts himself off with a huff, and you think he’s talking to himself more than you. “Did the asshole touch you anywhere I can’t see?”

You shake your head, keeping your eye glued shut as you curl your hands in Dean’s shirt. Maybe Dean’s shirt. Not-Dean had been wearing plaid too, and you don’t have the nerve or will to open your eyes and seen if it’s your Dean, or the cheap unicorn knockoff.

“Shit, sweetheart, I need you to talk to me. Sam’s on his way, but we gotta get you out of here-“

“Didn’t touch me.” You whisper, fighting every urge into your body to curl forwards and start sobbing weak and pointless apologies. “I’m okay.”

“You’re okay? You think, fuck-“ Dean’s arm—bigger, warmer, maybe actual Dean—loops around your waist, his voice a little closer to your ear. “Need you to hold onto me, got it? We’re goin’ back to the car, and you gotta, fuck, can you open your damn eyes?”

They fly open, almost on command, and it’s Dean. The smell of whiskey is stronger, more authentic, and his face is sharp in all the right places, and it’s really Dean.

And he looks pissed. His touch on your body is careful, and his eyes are attentive and sparked with worry, but his jaw is clenched, and his every word is suddenly pushed through his teeth.

“You’re gonna hold onto me.” He orders, holding your wide-eyed gaze with a glower. “I’ll take a better look at you when we get back to the room-“

“Dean, I’m fine-“

“And,” Dean barrels on, as if he didn’t even hear you. “We’re going to have a chat. You’re, I can’t-” he shakes his head scooping you fully into his arms. “Just hold on.”

He sounds pissed. Dean’s rigid and silent the whole ride back to the hotel, his grip white-knuckled and tight on the wheel, and you feel even worse than before. This is it. He had to save you, and he’s going to learn why he had to save you, and he might not kick you out but he won’t look at you the same again. No more ease or awe or comfort or understanding, because Dean’s rotten in places where the mold can be burned away with every good part of him, but you’re just rotten. Just a hideous thing that roars in your chest, just angry and cowardlyand revolting and wrong. You’re just wrong.

All the panic and paralyzing adrenaline had left your body, so you push yourself out of the Impala on unsteady feet. Dean mutters something about Sam dealing with all the cleanup as he opens to motel room door, watching you shuffle inside with clenched fists and an unreadable expression. You flop onto the bed with a small whine, your body beginning to drown in exhaustion, your gaze locked on the peeling paint of the ceiling as Dean moves around the room out of your view.

“Why’d you come back?” You ask, your voice hoarse and weak, and Dean lets out a long, low exhale from somewhere off to the side.

“You were actin’ really weird.” He grunts. “Didn’t sound like yourself. Weren’t laughing at my jokes, or making fun of Sam. Looked sick every time one of us said stab.”

“I could’ve just been-“

“Don’t.” He snaps, and you crane your neck to see him at the foot of the bed, arms crossed and looking at you. Dean seems to be really looking at you, all of you, and you suddenly really wish he would stop. You’re complete exposed below him, under his glare, and he’s going to see something he hates. Something you don’t have a name for that you’ve never wanted him to see, never wanted him to find. The thing that makes everyone else look away.

But Dean’s attention is like a drug, and you need him to stop before you lose him, but you also never want him to stop watching you. It’s confusing and raw and makes you feel like a live wire, one word or touch or stare away from snapping and bursting into a million sparks.

And Dean’s still looking at you.

“I didn’t,” you swallow, his eyes like a magnet on yours. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry-“

“Don’t.” He repeats, his voice lower. Harsher. “You’re not injured.”

You shake your head.

“Good. We need to talk.”

“Dean, I-“

“I’m asking the questions.” Dean leers over you slightly, and you nod again. “Why the fuck did that unicorn seem like it was hunting you.”

He knows the answer. His whole face is already painted in anger, and you know he knows. He just wants to hear you say it.

“Because it was hunting me.”

“Unicorns only hunt virgins.” Dean grunts your name, still not looking away. “You’re not-“

“I am.” You mumble, folding your arms over your own body as you drop back down onto the mattress. “Sorry.”

“Why would you say, fuck- Why in goddamn hell wouldn’t you tell me and Sam-“

“Tell you and Sam what?” You scowl at the ceiling. “That I’m untouched? Pure? Boring-“

“That you’d be in danger!” Dean all but roars, and you don’t flinch, but you do cringe. All the mold in your body feels as if it’s spreading like cancer, because Dean would never hurt you with his hands, but he might be about to curb stomp your heart with only his mouth. “I don’t give a shit about the virgin thing, I care that you were so fucking stupid to go off alone, that you didn’t trust me enough-“

“It’s not about trust, Dean,” you sigh, squeezing your eyes shut again. “And it’s not like you tell me everything-“

“I do! I’ve told you about all the shit in my past, and my fear of flying, and Rhonda Hurley, and that weird freaking dream I had with the mice in top hats-“

“That’s not the same!” You’re pushing back up on your palms, raising your voice to match Dean’s. You just need him to stop yelling at you, to rip the band-aid off and finally give up on you so you can rest. “This isn’t your business-“

“It’s my business if it’s gonna get you fucking killed, Sweetheart. And I coulda helped you-“

“Helped me?” You scoff. “I don’t need your help with this, Winchester, I’ve come to terms with it-“

There was a brief moment where Dean had looked like you’d kicked him, but it vanishes in a second as he gapes at you in disbelief. “To terms with virginity?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, holding his suddenly slack expression with your own glare. “Nobody wants me, it’s not a big deal-“

Dean snorts. “There’s no damn way you’re that stupid-“

“I am not stupid-“

“Yeah? Cause you’re a fucking idiot if you think nobody wants you.”

It’s your turn to gape at him. Your heart stumbles slightly in your chest, your fingers curling into bedsheets, and the world begins to spin as you try and understand his words. “What?”

“You,” Dean takes a firm step forward, drawing your name. “Are a fucking idiot if you think that there’s not one damn person on the planet who wants you.”

“But-“

“Nah. No freakin’ buts.” He’s closer now, his knees bumping yours as he glowers down at you. “I’ve watched too many hair-gelled losers at bars size you up like they wanna take a bite for you to have buts. Hell, I’ve-“ Dean shakes his head, running a hand over his face. “Shit, there’s just, there’s no way-“

Your face twists back into a scowl. “Fuck off, Dean. It doesn’t matter if you believe me-“

“Oh, I believe you, Sweetheart.” Dean’s eyes flash, nostrils flaring as a low groan leaves his chest, rolling through the air and settling between your legs in an aching heat. “And I finally fucking get it. You just, you have no idea. I thought you just didn’t want it, but you’re just- Shit-“

“Dean,” your voice is soft, a little breathless, and can’t help but rub your thighs together as his hands start to flex at his sides. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

“I know,” he mutters, scanning over your body with an almost predatory expression. “I’m not, I just gotta,” his gaze flies back to yours, his voice suddenly stern. “Sam tell you how the unicorn choses its form?”

You blink. “Wha-“

“It takes the form that will be most appealing to the target. To help the asshole get attention quickly. That unicorn,” his voice drop, deeper than you’ve ever heard it, and it takes all the will you have to not start fall back into in the sheets. “Looked kinda like me.”

“I, um, I don’t-“

“Do you want me?” Dean grunts your name, and you make the mistake of dropping your gaze down, to his pants. To where an impressive outline is straining against his jeans.

“I’d, I mean, I’m not-“ You swallow, everything a dizzying haze of Dean. “Yeah, I think, but you’re not-“

“I’m not what?” He growls, kneeling down to your eye level, trailing a slow hand up your thigh. “Not interested?”

“Yeah?”

“Wrong.” Dean’s hand moves higher, trailing closer and closer to your center before running back down to your knee. “So incredibly wrong, Sweetheart. I’ve wanted you since, fuck, since I first saw ya’. But you didn’t seem to want me, so I backed off, but if you just didn’t-“ He pauses, his brilliant green eyes suddenly tearing into your soul, unraveling you before he’s even touched bare skin. “Do you? Want me?”

“I already said-“

“You said yeah.” He mutters, rubbing his hand is a slow pattern on your knee. “Need you to say the full thing, before I do anything else.”

Dean’s face is suddenly softer, with something that aches and tugs on your own heart shining through his eyes, and you couldn’t lie to him if you tried. You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to Dean. It feels cruel, and wrong, and as if you’d be denying yourself something so good and rare it will never be replicated if you walk away now.

“I want you,” you whisper. “I’ve wanted you. But I’m not, it’s not going to be good for you. I mean, I know how to take care of that,” you point to the bulge in his pants, pressed slightly against your calf as he crouches before you, and Dean frowns. “But I’ve never, um, you know-“

“You’re not takin’ care of anything.” He says, scanning over your open face with drawn brows. “We’re doing this, it’s gonna be about you.”

“Oh.” There’s a little drool falling out of your mouth, Dean reaches up to swipe it away with his thumb, and your voice becomes a squeak. “Okay.”

“If you really wanna,” his mouth curves into a smirk, and you need it on yours now. “Next time, I’ll let you go to town on Little Dean.”

You can’t stop the small giggle escaping your lips, and it turns into a full laugh as Dean’s own grin grows, and nothing really feels that bad anymore. “Little Dean?”

“Compared to the rest of me, yeah.” Dean does a loose gesture at his broad, strong body, his grin growing cocky. Hungry. Starved. “But trust me, gorgeous. Ain’t nothing little about him.”

Your eyes widen, your thighs rubbing together as the need for him becomes almost unbearable, and Dean lets out a deep, low chuckle.

“You want me, babygirl?”

You nod, and Dean’s eyes narrow as he squeezes his hand on your leg.

“Need you to say it-“

“Yeah.” You whisper. “Yes, please.”

A grin splits over Dean’s handsome face, and his hand drifts to your stomach, his eyes never leaving yours as he drawls your name. “I’m gonna need to get you ready, so just,” he pushes you slightly, and you fall flat on your back, moving your own hands to hold his against you. “Stay there, look pretty, and let me work.”

You nod, your vision already a little blurred with desire as you stare at the ceiling. Dean draws back, shuffling around at the edge of the bed, and you look up to see his shirt gone. It’s all warm, slightly golden and freckled skin, strong and soft in all the right places. His muscles flex as he takes a long, deep breath, and big, calloused hands lowering to trace over your midriff, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What’d I say about stayin’ there-“

“I, um,” you gasp a little as his hand slips under your shirt, bunching the material and starting to slowly pull it over your chest. “I’ve done other stuff. Just so you know. And I’ve done things to myself-“

“I bet you have,” Dean mutters, wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you carefully against him as he helps you out of your clothing. “Shit, Sweetheart, you’re so damn beautiful. Can’t wait to taste you, touch you, fucking ruin you-“

You let out a high, needy moan, burying your face in his neck and mumbling against his skin. “Please, Dean, just-“

You cut yourself off with a gasp as his free hand slips into your pants, cupping your pussy over the fabric of your underwear and rubbing back and forth so torturously slow you might fly out of your skin.

“So wet for me already,” he grunts, tugging on your hair until you lean back, meeting his gaze. “Ready?”

You’re not sure what you need to be ready for, but as long as it’s Dean doing it, you’re good. You nod, wrapping your arm around his neck in silent affirmation, and Dean pulls back to pop open the button of your jeans with a single hand, offering himself easier access.

Two broad fingers toy with the hem of your panties, Dean’s eyes almost glittering as his attention falls to where he’s touching you. Watching your body shiver when he glides his thumb over your clothed slit, your hips jerk when he presses down on your clit, your legs stretch as wide as they can when he starts to rub small circles against you.

“Dean,” you whine, your free hand moving to cup his jaw, trying to move his gaze back to yours. “Please, shit-“

“That feel good, babygirl?” Dean starts to quicken his movements, adding small, teasing flicks and pinches that make your eyes roll back in your head. “You like me teasin’ you? Playin’ this pretty fuckin’ pussy until you’re soaked- Fuck-“

You start to grind on Dean’s hand, trying to chase relief while showing him that he didn’t need to play with or tease you. He has you, unraveled on his fingers and desperate for more of him, all of him, whatever he can offer you that will feel like this-

“Shit, you’re dripping.” Dean’s movement on your clit still as he drags his thumb down, resting right over your aching, already sensitive cunt, and pressing into you just enough to make you whimper. “I gotta taste you, Sweetheart, c’mon.”

His gaze shoots back to yours, something a little animalistic in his low, hoarse voice that almost makes you cum on the spot. “Need you hold on, pretty girl, we’re gonna get you out’a these.”

You nod, letting Dean lay you back down on the mattress, lifting your hips as he drags your jeans off your body, taking your underwear with them. Leaving to totally, completely naked on the bed. Vulnerable, entirely at his mercy, with not another place you’d wish to be in the world.

Dean crawls slightly over you, one of his hands tracing up your stomach, palming at your breasts, then rolling your nipple between two, rough, expert fingers. You gasp, arching slightly off the bed, and a low, deep groan rolls from Dean’s chest.

“Holy fuck, Sweetheart. You’re,” Dean cuts himself off, dropping his mouth to your other breast and latching plump, slightly chapped lips around your nipple. Your vision starts to line with light that might be angels coming to take you away, because this has to be heaven. This is better than heaven. Heaven wouldn’t allow such sinful things as Dean groaning against your skin, his boner pressing into your thigh, or his hand kneading at your ass. Someone shouldn’t be allowed to feel this good. This feels like everything, and blissfully nothing, and mostly just Dean.

You must have moaned his name, because he crashes up, fisting a hand in your hair as he pulls you into a sloppy kiss. All teeth and spit and burning need. Dean tastes like coffee and whiskey and syrup and fruit when he shoves his tongue down your throat, and he smells like gunpowder and leather as his weight hold you easily down, and his lips are so soft but so demanding as he practically devours you, and you’re high. He’s not even inside you yet and you’ll never have enough. This isn’t more than what you’ve done before, but Dean’s ruined you with just teasing touches and wet, starved kisses, and you’re starting to worry you might ascend when he actually fucks you.

He starts to kiss and suck a line over your jaw, down your neck, and between your breasts. It’s heavy and wanting, but still so carefully coordinated. Every move Dean makes seems to be calculated, because he nips at your collarbone right as he tugs on your hair, and the sound that leaves you is high and undignified and exactly what he wanted. His chuckle rumbles in his chest—now pressed against your stomach—and all you can do is moan as he continues his perfect torture. Licking one nipple as he pinches the other, dragging two fingers through your folds as he kisses down the plane of your stomach, stopping right at the apex of your thighs with glittering eyes and firm hands, slowly guiding your legs open.

“Shit.” He mutters, warm breath right over your pussy, making your hips jerk slightly. “Goddamn, baby, you’re responsive.“ A wide, smug grin overtakes Dean’s face as he pushes one finger into your pussy, and you squeak. “I’ve been waiting for this.” He growls your name, and starts to pump that finger in and out, the pace so slow and almost painfully good. “God, you have fucking idea how long- How bad-“ Dean groans as you squeeze around him, and adds another finger. “You’re making such pretty sounds, babygirl, better than I ever imagined. Shit, you’re sexier than a fucking dream.”

His eyes drift back to yours, and shiver goes up your spine from how Dean’s looking at you. Really looking at you. Watching your writhe in the sheets and plead for him in weak gasps, watching you at your most vulnerable state, and grinning like he loves what he sees. Like he’s never seen anything better.

“Dean,” you gasp as his fingers pick up speed, starting to scissor inside your dripping cunt, bumping against a tender spot inside of you that seems to sing under his touch. “Oh my god, Dean, please-“

“Such pretty sounds,” Dean grins at you, crooking his fingers against that same spot to rub. “Let’s see if we can make some more.”

Without further warning Dean drops back down, latches his lips onto your clit, and sucks it right into his mouth like candy. It’s almost immediate, how he pulls you from warm pleasure to raw, almost feral desperation. You’re right on the edge, grinding on his face as his stubble burns your inner thighs in the best was possible, his tongue flicking over that pulsing bundle of nerves, his fingers reaching a demanding and brutal pace-

“Fuck, I’m-“ You let out a loud moan as Dean growls against you, pulling at his short, soft hair to try and both move him away as you dangle over the drop, and urge him on to let him catch you when you fall. “Close, Dean, I’m close, please-“

He pulls away, and you almost scream from the loss. You even force yourself up to glare at him, but you’ve barely gotten a steady balance when a high, needy breath escapes you at the sight of him.

Dean’s towering over you, his pants discarded into another corners of the room, stroking his massive, fully-erect cock in one hand as he scans over your sweaty, flushed body.

“I wanna fuck you dumb, babygirl.” He grunts, and you can’t really hear him your own Dean-addled brain, so you just gape and moan, and he chuckles. “Shit, looks like we’re already halfway there. You got any words for me-“

“Dean, please.” The words start to fall out of your mouth with the slight drool on your chin, almost as if he’d commanded them. “Please, I need you, need you so bad-“

You spread your legs in offering, and Dean groans. “Fuck, Sweetheart, you can’t just-“ He closes his eyes, running a hand over his face, and there’s a moment before he speaks again where you worry you’ve ruined it. That you’d shown too much, or Dean saw too much, but no matter what this is over before you can even get that huge, glorious cock inside of you-

“I’m sorry-“

Dean frowns, his brow drawn as he looks down at you. “What the hell are you sorry for.”

“I dunno, I’m just not-“ You swallow. “I’m not good at this, I don’t know what to say-“

He grunts your name, prowling over your body under your trapped between his strong body and the bed, unable to escape his intense, searing gaze. Looking at you, examining you, and not flinching or moving away. “You,” he says, tracing one gentle hand over your cheekbones. “Are fuckin’ amazing at this.”

You can only gape at him, so he keeps going.

“I’m the one that might fuck this up, Sweetheart. You’re so,” he makes a loose gesture to your body, and you really wish he’d use words, but the look of sheer awe in his eyes will be enough for now. “And I get to do this for you, and I’m not trying to blow my load before you even cum once.”

“I almost came.” You offer him a small smile, your fingers tracing over the sharp line of his jaw. “But you stopped me.”

He lets out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, well, I’m plannin’ to make that up to you. If you still-“

“I want it.” You cut him off quickly, rolling your hips up, right against his cock. “Please, Dean, I really want it.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, dropping a little further down. “Are you-“

“I’m sure.” You guide Dean’s lips back to yours in a soft, almost sweet kiss, and say the words you really hope will snap whatever leash he’s put on himself. “I want you.”

It works. Something flashes in Dean’s eyes, and his hand snakes between your bodies, finding your clit and rolling it in slow circles as he growls in your ear.

“Wanna feel you, babygirl. Fuck you raw. I’m clean, but if you want me to grab a rubber you’re gonna need to keep yourself going while I-“

“No!” You almost yelp, wrapping your arms around him in a desperate attempt to keep him above you. “I mean, I’m clean too, obviously, and I take birth control just for like, lady stuff-“

Dean raises his brows at you. “Lady stuff?”

“It kinda helps with period cramps and-“ You cut yourself off with a moan as Dean flicks your clit, tossing your head back you start to squirm, trying to catch him into you. “Fuck, Dean, please just fuck me-“

“You mean like this?” Dean guides the head of his cock inside you, and your mouth falls open in a silent scream. “Fuck ya’ like this, baby?”

You grind on him, scratching at his back as you plead. “Shit, that’s, Dean that’s good, more-“

“More, baby? You need more already?” His grin is shit-eating, and you’d hit him if the dark look of lust in his eyes, the baritone of his voice being several octaves lower than you’ve ever heard it, and the throbbing ache of him starting to split you open wasn’t rending your limbs only putty in his arms.

“Dean, please-“

You might stop breathing as Dean guides himself fully into you, settling his face in your neck as he bottoms out. There’s a long moment where it’s only Dean’s warmth over and inside you as he gives you time to adjust, groaning against your skin as you squeeze around him.

“Shit, Sweetheart, you’re so tight.” He kisses right behind your ear. “Feel, fuck, feel so good around my cock, so fuckin’ good-“ He emphasizes his words with one, short thrust that pushes him right against that one spot and makes you whine. “You ready, baby? Ready for me to pound this tight little pussy until you cum all over my cock-“

You almost yank him back down into a desperate, borderline feral kiss, because if he kept talking you might have cum from just the sound of his low, rough voice growling in your ear and rumbling in your chest.

Dean takes a long, ragged breath when he pulls away, and you roll your hips only once. Just enough for him to groans and fall back over you, kissing and sucking on your skin like he thinks you’ll vanish if he doesn’t mark you with his touch.

Then he starts to move, and you were right. This is heaven. Dean’s moving so slow, pulling almost all the way out before driving back inside, until you’re fully impaled on him—his cock pressed fully against that one spot, making your whole body feel warm and alight, and your head feel a little dizzy—then repeating the movement again. And again. Over and over, so fucking slow, still leaving softer, slightly uneven kisses along your collarbone and grunts against your skin but-

“Dean,” you gasp his name, your nails digging into the muscles of his broad back as he continues to move on you. “Fuck, Dean, go faster, please-“

He rises up to meet your eyes, an unreadable expression on his face that’s made entirely hunger and want, but edged with something a little stronger you don’t understand. “You sure-“

“Yes.” You’re practically whining, scratching at Dean’s skin as you squirm under him, desperate him to really, properly fuck you. “Please, Dean, feels so good, need more, need you-“

He shakes his head slightly. “Don’t wanna hurt you-“

“Not gonna-” you let out a breathy moan as Dean pushes back into you, the movement a little harsher than before, and so fucking good. “You won’t hurt me, please, Dean, fuck-“

“I’m-“

“You said,” you force your eyes to stay on Dean’s, even as he sits deep into you, cock throbbing against that soft spot and making you see stars. “You said you wanted to fuck me, Dean.” You raise your chin, grinding up into his torso until his throat bobs. “Fuck me.”

A low, primal noise leaves Dean’s mouth, and he fully snaps. You might have screamed his name when he began to move again—ramming into you at an unforgiving pace, creaking the bed and bruising your hips as he grabbed at your skin, molding you perfectly into his touch and body—but he swallows the noise with a deep kiss that makes your eyes go unfocused, your whole body slack and only for Dean to play with as he drags you higher. Slamming against that spot, balls slapping onto your ass, one free hand squeezing at your tits before dragging down your side and finding your clit-

“So fucking good, babygirl.” Dean groans into your mouth, and you think you might be floating or falling or flying, but it doesn’t matter because Dean grunting in your east and slamming into your dripping cunt, and that’s the whole world. “Look so good, all ruined and whiny, such a good fucking girl, taking this cock so well, made to be fucked so fucking pretty-“ He pinches your clit, and you whimper his name. “Wanna cum, baby? Wanna fucking soak this cock-“

“Yes,” you gasp, scratching at his back, muscles rippling as he drills into you. Something in you hopes it leaves a mark. That Dean feels you on his back a little forever, just like you know you’re going to feel him in your pussy and on your neck for the rest of your life. “Feels so good, Dean, feels so fucking good, wanna cum so bad-“

“Beg-“

Dean barely grunts your name before you bite on his upper lip, almost screaming into his mouth. “Please, Dean, please, need to cum, wanna cum so bad-“

“Shit, baby, you’re-“ Dean groans, his pace becoming uneven and thrusts slightly staggered, cock twitching deep inside you as he ruts into your aching, clenching pussy-

Dean flicks your clit once, sending your hips almost flying off the bed, and starts to rub you at a frantic, savage pace.

“Cum with me.” He growls your name, lips ghosting over yours and you stare at him under, cockdrunk, lidded eyes. “C’mon, baby, cum-“

Your scream is hoarse as your orgasm slams into you like a freight train—pure, drug-like bliss washing over your whole body, a soft haze of Dean settling behind your eyes and over your skin—and Dean roars as he slams open, warmth coating inside you and dripping between your thighs, down your ass, and onto the bed.

Dean rolls over, taking you with him, and remains carefully sheathed inside you as your cunt grows sensitive and your breathing slows back down. It helps that he keeps your ear pressed to his bare chest, where you can hear his heart beating. Calm and steady and strong, just as certain and constant as the man it’s inside.

As the man had been.

You’re not sure what he’s going to be now.

“That, ah,” Dean breaks the silence, his voice low and almost soft. “That do it?”

You smile against him. “If you mean take my virginity, then yeah, I think you did it-“

“No, I mean was it,” He groans, his arm shifting slightly around as his voice drops. “Was it good. For you.”

“Oh.” You nod slowly, trying not to hum like a needy fucking when Dean starts to run his fingers through your hair. “Yeah. Really good.” You stifle a moan as he twitches inside you. “It was awesome. Good, uh, good job?”

“Thanks, Sweetheart.” You can hear to smug grin in his voice, his free hand starting to rub soothingly on your back. “You were pretty fucking awesome yourself.”

There it is. You were pretty awesome. And he’s still inside you. And you need to know if you were awesome enough for something, anything to stick.

“You said, um,” you swallow, staring at his tattoo because you can’t bear to look at his face right now. “You said I could give you a blowjob next time. Did-“

“Did I mean it?”

You nod nervously, and Dean’s whole chest rumbles with his low laugh, rolling right through your body. He grunts your name, and—when you still don’t look at him—hooks a finger under your chin to guide your gaze to his.

“Look.” He sighs, and this is it. He did you a favor, and that’s it. He won’t stay, nobody stays, why would Dean Winchester be the one to stay-

“I get it,” you mumble, and wish you would find the will to make your body roll away from his. “You don’t need to explain-“

Dean’s grip on you remains firm, and his voice is a deep, amused drawl. It feels a little cruel in your gut, because you’d have really liked more. More would have been the best. You didn’t even need all of Dean, you’d just have really like more.

“You get it.” He raises his brows, and you nod again. “Sweetheart, you might want to actually hear the explainin’ part before you say anything.”

“I, um-“

“See, I’m a firm believer that all ladies should ride more than one dick in life. Too much of a good thing, ya know?” He winks at you, thrusting slightly up into you, and you flush. “But, if you’re taking applicants for long-term dicks, I’d have to be dumb not to apply. I’m never gonna complain if I get you all to myself.”

You stare at him, your voice barely a whisper. “So, um, you mean-“

“If you’ll have me,” he mutters. “I’ll take you up on that blowjob offer soon. And any other offers you’ve got.”

“Offers,” you swallow. “For long-term dicks?”

He shrugs—tracing a finger over your arm and refusing to meet your eyes—and it might be your turn to make the move.

“Dean.” You whisper, crawling up his chest just enough for his eyes to easily find yours. “I’d really like you being my long-term dick.”

He frowns. “Sounds stupid when you say it like that-“

You drop down to press a soft, tentative kiss against his lips, and he tenses for only a second before overtaking you. Deepening the kiss with his tongue pushing on your lower lip, groaning when you open for him without a moment’s hesitation, pinning you onto his chest with big, strong arms as you fall fully into him.

Dean pulls back for only a second, searching over your open expression—all affection and need for him, swollen lips and shallow breaths—until he finds what he’s looking for, and his face splits into a wide grin.

“If you’re lettin’ me,” he says, tucking a little bit of hair behind your ears. “I think I’ll stay your long-term dick for while, Sweetheart.”

“I’m letting you.” You whisper, a small smile pulling on your own lips. “But we need to come up with a better name than long-term dick.”

“Boyfriend?”

You stare at him for a second, unsure if this is real, because Dean just said that word like it was obvious. Not something he’s adamantly refused to be for anyone, ever, for the entire time you’ve known him. He said it like he was waiting to say it. And, looking at him—unfamiliar hope haunting the very deepest part of those perfect eyes, his grin so genuine but filled with nerves—you think he might have been. And all the money and glory and pleasure in the world couldn’t make you tell him no.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Boyfriend’s good.”

Dean’s grin becomes almost boyish, and this last kiss is sweet. It’s a kiss in the rain, or under bleachers, or on a rooftop with nothing but time and peace around you.

And you and Dean have never had either of those things.

But you’d really like to and find them. And if it’s with Dean, you really think you could.

End Note: Look at Dean. Being Emotional. I'm so proud of him (I made him do that)

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature

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sirhamburrger · 2 days ago

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five (m. fushiguro x gn!reader)

five seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years of you through megumi fushiguro’s eyes. wc: 1.1k || tags/cw: spoilers for end of jjk manga, reader is a first-year along with the main trio, reader was abandoned as a child and raised by utahime, megumi is bad at feelings, hurt/comfort (i mean this is jjk after all), bad pacing which i will attribute to time not being real, is it obvious i don't read read the manga a/n: first jjk post! late birthday oneshot sorry i wrote for tobio kageyama first >:)

five seconds is the amount of time it takes for megumi fushiguro to register that there’s a new student in the class.

no, not itadori or kugisaki, but yet another new student, a transfer from the kyoto school. you’re cheerful enough, and you seem to be pretty powerful. he can tell that much from the way you carry yourself, and the aura of cursed energy radiating from you.

gojo introduces you to the class. megumi likes the way your name sounds.

---

five minutes is the amount of time it takes for megumi fushiguro to find that you’re actually really smart.

you’re assigned to sit beside him during lessons, much to the dismay of his other two friends. you give him a little smile, and he tries to smile back, hoping it doesn't look like a grimace.

gojo asks a question about the three great vengeful spirits of japan. michizane no sugawara, taira no masakado and emperor sutoku. the information comes to the forefront of his mind without him needing to really think about it too much. he opens his mouth, ready as usual to be the only one in the class who knows it -

until he hears you say the answer confidently.

the other two are stunned into silence, and so is he. you look over at their shocked faces, and offer them a bashful grin, like you're embarrassed.

---

five hours is the amount of time it takes for megumi fushiguro to realise he wants to get to know you more.

accompanied by itadori and kugisaki, he comes knocking at the door of your dorm room after school. he finds himself a little lost for words when you answer the door. you look even better out of uniform, and the comfortable clothes you wear complement your skin tone and eyes.

mumbling something about showing you around the campus, he's glad when kugisaki diverts your attention away from him. he doesn’t miss the knowing wink she shoots him, though, and just grumbles and diverts his gaze.

---

five days is the amount of time it takes for megumi fushiguro to look forward to seeing you.

it’s only your first week at tokyo jujutsu high, and already he feels some sort of connection to you. you were abandoned as a child, raised by sorcerer and teacher utahime iori from the kyoto campus for a few years. it reminds him of how gojo took him in after his own father left, and it brings the two of you closer together.

you trade stories about your unconventional childhoods. living in the dorms, training in cursed energy control and combat from a young age, the things you’ve been through to get to where you are today. you tell him that you’re happy your experiences made you who you are, and that they’ve brought you to him.

he savours this moment more than he cares to let on.

---

five weeks is the amount of time it takes for megumi fushiguro to feel as if he’s known you forever.

you’re with him 24/7 at this point. you go on morning runs with him and itadori before you meet a sleepy kugisaki for breakfast in the common area. you have classes together. you spar with the second-years - none of you ever win, but you come pretty close sometimes. you go on missions together.

when itadori dies, you grieve with him, but you don't cry. when kugisaki falls asleep on his bed, and when you’re about to doze off in his arms, he cups your face in his hands and holds you close, feeling your warmth, even as he holds back tears of his own.

and when itadori pops out of a box revealing he’s been alive for the past few weeks, you join megumi and kugisaki in rolling your eyes to conceal your happiness.

---

five months is the amount of time it takes for megumi fushiguro to know he wants you in his life for the rest of it.

“as long as she has unshakable character, i won’t ask for more,” he remembers saying to todo once.

and of course he’s thinking about you when he says this.

who else could it be?

---

in the end, five years is the amount of time megumi fushiguro has to wait before he finally, truly tells you how he feels.

being trapped in his own body was not so much of a nightmare, but a trance. a trance in which memories and dreams and nightmares and hopes coagulated into a single stream of thoughts. his worst fears come to life. an unlikely happy ending. the faces of those he loves most. your face seems to pop up most.

truly one of the most unique and unfortunate ways to find out he loves someone.

he spends what feels like eternity in the darkness with you. you speak to him when he cannot muster the strength to even open his mouth, soothe him when he cannot think.

the memories of you and his loved ones are what keeps him alive.

he sees you cry for the first time when he is reunited with everyone else. he’s crying too. you��ve gone through terrible things, all of you. you’ve all lost those you care about most, and megumi doesn’t know if any of you will ever be okay. whether it’ll ever be okay. but looking at you, teary eyes fixated on gojo’s parting letter to you, he gets the sense that it will.

he embraces you, and he doesn’t even have to say anything to tell you he loves you.

a year turns into two. two into three. three into four. miraculously you’re still by his side, unyielding in the face of whatever curses or calamities the world throws at you. one spring day, megumi holds your hand as you sit under the sakura trees, watching the petals drift off in the breeze. and he knows he must tell you now.

he looks at you, your smile brighter than any light he’s ever known, and finally speaks the words he’s held for so long.

“i love you.”

you turn to him, eyes shimmering with the same certainty he feels.

“i’ve always loved you, megumi.”

five is the number of times he kisses you under the sakura trees that spring day. five is the number of first-year students you co-teach with him, who make fun of him for being all lovey-dovey with you. five is the number of deep blue roses he leaves in a vase by your bedside every week.

and, just as straightforward as he is, five is the number of sentences in his wedding vows to you.

jjk masterlist || general masterlist

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen oneshot #jjk oneshot #jjk x reader #jjk x you #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #megumi jjk #megumi x reader #megumi x you #kai writes

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munsonsmixtapes · 3 days ago

Note

hey is it possible for you to write rockstar eddie on a tour for two days and the reader has been touch starved and when he gets back readers really happy and they have um yk but it’s totally ok if you don’t feel comfortable doing this love you work btwww your so talented 💖💖💖

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you smack it)

It's been months since you've seen Eddie. Since he's been on tour and you've been working, you've haven't had any time to go to one of his shows that was close by or even talk on the phone.

And not seeing him for such a long period of time has led to you being touch starved. You haven't been able to stop thinking about having his hands on you the second you reunite. He's due to be home any minute and you can't wait to see him, to feel his hands on you, to hold him in your arms.

Eddie's been counting down the minutes from the second he woke up. He's constantly been checking his watch since he knows the exact time he's supposed to be home. He just wants to be with his girl and every second that passes that he can't hold you in his arms is another minute he'll spend checking the time.

You hear the front door open and Eddie steps through it, pushing his suitcase aside as he opens his arms wide for you. You jump into them and wrap your legs around his waist as you bury your face into his neck. Eddie holds you tight, one of his hands moving up and down your back as the other holds onto you.

You pull away and stare at him, those pretty, brown eyes that you always love to look into, that hair you love to run your fingers through, to grab onto when he-

"I missed you, baby," he whispers as he leans close, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss.

"I missed you too," you mumble against his lips. "So much." You don't even have to tell him that but he loves to hear the words, the loving way you say them.

He kisses you again, this time slotting his lips between yours. It's slow and sweet at first but before you know it, Eddie's tongue is in your mouth and he's setting you on the counter, slotting himself between your legs.

"Need your touch. Need your cock," you tell him. "Wanna feel you."

His hands travel down your sweatpants, pushing them down your legs then tossing them somewhere behind him, followed by your panties. Once they're discarded, he removes his own, precum already leaking from his cock that he slides into you as he spreads your legs wide.

"So tight, baby," he groans as he pushes inside you, his hands digging into your hips as he does so. "Didn't take care of yourself while I was gone?" The question is genuine, not mocking like it may seem.

"I couldn't," you tell him between labored breaths as you buck your hips against his. "It just made me think of you and then I got sad."

"You missed me," he says knowingly. "But I bet you missed my cock even more." Eddie slides all of himself inside you and you moan loudly, bucking your hips again, clenching around him as you do so.

"Fuck," you whine as your back arches. "Touch me," you beg. "Please."

He pumps even harder, your moans getting even louder. His hand reaches up your shirt and cups your breast, giving it a squeeze as his lips find yours in a hot kiss, his tongue taking no time to slide into your mouth.

You moan into his mouth as his thumb moves to your nipple, massaging it. His other hand continues to dig into your hip, pulling you even closer and your legs wrap around his waist, your ankles locking at his back.

His pumps continue and you already feel spent having not done this in months. But it's the best you've felt in so long so you don't dare tell him to stop even though you're close to throwing in the towel.

"See?" He asks as he looks down at where the two of you are connected, his his other hand moving to massage your other nipple. "We've still got it. I'm gonna fuck you on every single surface of this apartment until you can't walk. And then I'm going to carry you to bed where we're going to sleep until the afternoon and them I'm gonna do it all again to show you just how much I missed you."

"Yes, please," you moan as he picks you up, his hands grabbing your ass as he carries you to the couch, setting you down on it before lying on top of you, pumping his cock in and out, in and out as you beg for more, scratching up and down his back in response to how good he's making you feel.

"Just like that," you whine, bucking your hips against his again and again, your nails digging into his back, leaving crescent shapes anywhere you can. You're close, you can feel it.

Your eyes roll back and your back arches as you have the best orgasm of your life, Eddie encouraging you as you do, and once you've come down, you push him so he's the one with his back against the couch, fully intent of riding him until he has an orgasm of his own.

And Eddie fulfills his promise of fucking you on every piece of furniture in the apartment, making you come over and over and he does carry you to bed afterwards where he puts you in one of his t-shirts before pulling you to his chest where you fall asleep soundly, knowing that you have your man back in your arms.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie munson

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blauequuleus · 2 days ago

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@snow-leopard-777

I am gonna run with this idea for a bit

Tim has a new obsession

Or maybe it would be considered a project?

Either way Tim has found a new fascination in one Danny Fenton

A Danny Fenton who had now been living in the 33rd floor men’s bathroom for about 4 months now. It was a bathroom located, seemingly forgotten, in the back of an old unused office/storage area, that hadn’t been occupied by a team for about 3 years now.

With Tim having only found out about Danny after he’d been living there for, as Tim estimated, about a month

Now normally this would have been a cause of alarm for Tim to find out an unknown person had taken up residence just one floor above some of their more sensitive projects.

And it was alarming, until Tim started to dig for information about Wayne Enterprises’ new tenant.

And what little he found he did not like

But that was also the main point of Tim’s new fixation …the fact that he found such little information about Danny and his background

Now not to toot his own horn but Tim knows he can find information and dirt on anyone. Give him a computer, some wi-fi and 5 minutes and he could find information that could possibly crumble governments in the same time span.

But Danny was turning out to be a very frustrating yet fascinating case

Because Tim kept only finding more questions than answers about the guy and where he’s from

His, what was supposed to be quick, look into his new neighbor turned into a rabbit hole of government conspiracies and coverups. A whole town that seemingly doesn’t exist anymore but with active but empty online profiles claiming to be from there, a heavily encrypted recent tax record of the city and also a census that was mostly redacted. Not to mention there being some billionaire mixed up in there too.

What had really made Tim pause was some possible evidence of human experimentation by a shady government branch and a bounty for Danny placed by the same governmental branch Tim had never heard of nor could he find much information on. Which Tim would bet all his WE stock on were connected

Needless to say Tim’s new project had him deeply fascinated and slightly horrified that the Justice League had missed something as big as this.

So Tim after keeping an eye on Danny for a bit and realizing he wasn’t doing anything other than using the bathroom as a temporary home, lets him stay. With Tim keeping an unknown eye on him just in case.

Cause other than the new can of worms with Danny’s background check, Tim was also curious about the guy himself.

He was interested to figure out how Danny had managed to bypass all their security measures. Because WE’s security system was nothing to sneeze at. Heck just last week and alarm had gone off cause a fly had gotten into a restricted area.

Yet somehow this guy about Tim’s age had not only managed to get into the building, he’d set up a bedroom for himself and was able to keep coming and going undetected.

Obviously some kind of meta or possibly alien but Tim knew they had security systems in place to detect those kinds of things. So the fact Danny ignored all of that was very interesting.

Unfortunately it all came crashing down a bit when in a routine maintenance Danny’s little place was discovered.

Tim had been doing some work in his lesser known office he has when he just needs to get work done without interruptions, it’s on a more empty floor and is “coincidentally” one floor above Danny’s little apartment. But suddenly after some commotion he looks up to see the new object of his investigative obsession running towards his open door looking panicked and asking to hide him.

And who is Tim to turn down this golden opportunity of Danny coming to him instead of Tim having to figure out a way to approach him without scaring him off.

So now Tim has a choice: he could get Danny out of the building and maybe if Danny will let him help find Danny a new place to live or he gets Danny out but drops info about another abandoned bathroom on the 35th floor that had just been repaired and shouldn’t have maintenance come by again for a few months especially if Tim changes the schedule for that one

And so now unknown to everyone but Tim, and an increasingly frustrated security team, Danny now lives at WE.

Tim decides two things as well: the less people that know about Danny’s existence for now the better with that government bounty on his head and that this will be a great way to win Danny’s trust and get more information by helping him hide

And so Danny lives there in the WE tower with only Tim being the wiser as to who he is. Danny will sometimes pop out and visit Tim in his 34th floor office where Tim now keeps food and drinks.

And this is a great set up for a while with Tim getting to know Danny and helping l him on dismantling/untangling everything that lead to Danny being there. No it’s not a crush Tim just finds Danny smart, funny and very cute but on a professional level. But then it dawns on Tim after a close call with security he can’t just let Danny keep up like this so one fake id and employment later Tim unceremoniously adds Danny to the employee registry as a security tester.

He’d run the idea by Danny who readily agreed plus now Tim can pay him and give Danny a new start.

Tim never tells anyone about the new hire until security catches Danny on an off day but before they can escort him out of the building Danny tells them he works there. Which they don’t believe until they pull him up in the system and discover his title and that he works directly under Tim.

Danny running into a room: Hide me!

Tim: Under my desk! Quick!

Danny: *Jumping the desk* Thank you!

Security Guard running in: Mr. Drake-Wayne! Have you seen a suspicious man pass through here?

Tim: Hmm? No. Is something happening?

Security Guard: A while ago, someone reported that a homeless man was found sleeping in one of our less used bathrooms. It looks like he had been staying there for a while. He had an entire camp set up. He ran as soon as the security was called but we think he's still in the building.

Tim: Wow that's crazy. Hope you catch him

Security Guard: Thank you. I suggest you move down to level 1 until we're sure he's not a danger.

Tim: Of course. I'll be right there.

Tim: *Moving his wheel chair back to stare into Danny's eyes* He's gone.

Danny: Thank you so much for hiding me.

Tim: You're welcome. Take off your clothes

Danny: Excuse me?

Tim: Switch into one of my spare suits. We're going to pretend you're my guest and walked you right pass security.

Danny: Who keeps seven spair complete suits at work?

Tim: *Holding up two ties* I do. Now, this Aqua blue makes your eyes pop, but this classic black with silver stripes gives you a mysterious aura. What are we feeling?

Danny: ....the blue one is nice.

#dcxdp #dead tired #Tim has no concept of a normal way to meet people #so now Tim has a giant crush on the guy that took over a men’s room #when the Batfam later find out about Danny they’re all just like: “hey Tim….what the fuck”#*Tim twirling his hair and kicking his feet with and obvious crush on the homeless guy*: “what I just find him interesting”#Batfam: *press X to doub*

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gloomwitchwrites · 2 days ago

Text

For Long Distance Fun - John Price x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: established relationship, mutual masturbation, gift giving, sex toys, oral sex (male & female receiving), vibrator, swearing

Word Count: 820

A/N: For Kinkmas 2024 (Mutual Masturbation)

For Christmas, John bought the two of you a new sex toy. He wants to try it out.

ao3 // main masterlist // kinkmas 2024 masterlist

"What—" You laugh softly, and then glance up at John. "What is this?"

Inside the unwrapped gift is a pink and white box. The label is clear. There is no mistake or denial of what this is, but you’re startled by the gesture. This isn’t something you thought John was interested in.

“It’s for the both of us,” replies John. He shifts, scooting closer to you on the sofa. “Interested in trying it out?”

“Right now?” He nods. “Right here?” you continue, glancing around at your living room.

Gently taking the box from your lap, John transfers it to his.

Long Distance Relationship Sex Toy, says the box. The vibrator for the woman is called “Eve” and the male counterpart is called “Adam.”

“Why not,” shrugs John, removing the pink and white box from its packaging.

Breaking the seal, John delicately removes the toys and the instruction manual. The light on the Christmas tree sparkle against the plastic as he sets it aside.

“Thought we could use these when I’m away,” says John, opening up the user manual. “See here.” He points. “They connect to an app on our phones. We can use them simultaneously even if I’m on the other side of the world.”

John lifts the Adam toy. “I fuck this.” He then lifts the Eve toy. “And this fucks you.” He smirks. “We can play at the same time.”

“Across the world?” you ask, unbelieving.

“All I need is bluetooth and a couple bars of service, love.”

You shake your head. “You can’t take that on missions.”

John laughs. “Course not. You think I’m going to take this out during a firefight?”

“Maybe,” you shrug, teasing.

“Certainly would startle the enemy,” chuckles John. “But in all seriousness, it doesn’t have to be at the same time.”

“I don’t understand.”

John’s brow creases, and there is a mischievous hunger that wasn’t there before. “I can fuck this on my own time,” he replies, lifting the Adam toy. “Record the whole thing on the app. And then when you log in, you can have your toy vibrate along to what I recorded. Doesn’t have to be at the same time.”

With his free hand, John starts to undo the buttons on your pajama top, revealing skin. His hand slides inside, cupping one breast as his mouth presses to your throat. You groan at his touch.

“Want to have a go, love?” he murmurs against your throat.

His lips against your skin make you tingle—sending a little shiver down your back. Gently squeezing your breast, John’s hand descends to toy with the elastic of your pants.

“I’d like that,” you answer, your response breathy and wanton.

John’s hand slides under the elastic band and tugs. Shifting, he places the box on the sofa and goes down on his knees before you. With another tug, your pants are gone and John is draping your legs over his shoulder.

“Follow the instructions while I prep you, love.”

Heat instantly radiates up your neck and enflames your face. You grab your phone the moment John’s tongue touches your clit. It’s hard to concentrate as he tongues you. The words on the instruction manual are blurring together with every stroke.

“I—oh. John.” He hums against your pussy. “It’s done,” you gasp.

He draws back, lips glossy. Reaching behind him, John removes his shirt with one hand. As he stands, John shoves his pants down, the two of you falling onto the couch completely naked and entwined.

John reaches for his phone the second you take his dick in your hand. You’re aching for this, and getting to taste him for a bit is perfectly satisfying. As you throat him, John taps away at his phone. He’s hard, almost throbbing in your mouth by the time he’s drawing your head back.

“Come here,” he growls. You ascend, draping yourself over him. “Open your legs, love. Just like that.” Holding the Eve toy in his hand, he guides it to your pussy, pushing the head of the rabbit vibrator in.

“Take it,” he rasps, and you grab on to the handle. John takes up the Adam toy, easing his dick in. “Ready, love?”

You nod and John thrusts.

The rabbit vibrator moves inside you, and you cry out immediately at the shock of sensation.

“Don’t move. Stay just like that,” he groans against your cheek, hips thrusting into the toy. “Fuck. I can feel you.”

You whimper, walls clenching around the vibrator as it buzzes along with John’s movements. It’s almost too much too fast. John’s grunts aren’t helping nor is his heat. Turning your face into his chest, you cry out his name, the orgasm rising fast, extending outward until it’s all you can focus on.

It’s unending rocket fuel that’s sending you up to the stars.

“I can fucking feel you,” he says again, this time groaning loudly, indicating his own end.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

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secriden · 3 days ago

Text

This line. God, this line! It has been eating me up inside for 2 days now, because let's not forget, this line isn't about love, it's about trust. And that has implications that make me want to scream.

It's a direct reference to this moment earlier in the episode:

At the start of this discussion, Style and Fadel still have a kind of playful air about their conversation:

Style: Oh? Not even me? Fadel: You're at 80% at best. I feel like you're hiding something from me in the 20%.

In this exchange, though, there's a sense that Fadel is issuing a challenge, like there's something specific which Style can do to gain Fadel's full trust. And while Style knows there are things he cannot (yet) reveal to Fadel, I think a part of him is determined to be as honest as he can be, which is why he issues a challenge of his own by asking for more specificity:

Style: What do I have to do to gain your complete trust?

Part of this question is a simultaneously inquisitive and deflective - What (and why) do you think I'm hiding (something) from you? - but there's also a moment after Style finishes speaking where he stills and goes quiet that feels... genuine, weighty. Or, as @airenyah has pointed out in her meta on Style in episode 4, the "grounded[ness]" in Style's demeanour is a signal that Style means what he's saying in the moment. Maybe about his own desire to be worthy of Fadel's trust, maybe about how he genuinely does want this relationship to be real in whatever way that matters to Fadel.

I think Fadel sensed that too, because the moment looses all the lightheartedness it had before. Fadel pauses, and then gets a look on his face that just... breaks my heart. There's a sombreness there, like he knows he's going to have to say something that makes him sad. Fadel looks away, and then down, before he seems to steel himself and says:

Fadel: It'll never happen. No matter how much you love someone, I just don't believe that you can completely lay yourself bare in front of them.

Fadel says this like it's fact. Like what he's expressing is something foundational and true and irrefutable. It's not even about his doubt in Style's honesty, because this statement has no qualifiers or conditions put on it to connect it to Style. Rather this is what Fadel fundamentally believes about relationships and trust: he finds the very concept of being fully known and still accepted an impossibility.

Sure, maybe this is because of the falling out (or betrayal or disappearance) associated with the former lover; but I also think it might be because Fadel is acutely aware not only that he's hiding a rather big and dark secret (not to mince words, but: actual literal premeditated murder), but also about what it implies about Fadel. Because being able to kill another human, coldly and clinically and without remorse, takes a certain type of person. Because, yes, Fadel has lived through an absolutely harrowing and traumatising event (his parents' murder), but it's also undeniable that it changed him. Because there's something about Fadel that twisted dark and which he never quite got back. There's an anger, a hurt that colours every moment of his life; that enables him to look a man in the eyes, smile politely, and pull a trigger.

And at this point in their relationship, Fadel's understanding of Style is that he's... well, kind of innocent. Especially in comparison to Fadel and Bison, and even Kant.

Style, who easily reveals facts about his life which Fadel already knows (winning a car tuning competition), making Fadel doubt his own instincts about Style hiding secrets. Style, who also reveals the things Fadel doesn't know, like the tender and secret pain of a mother lost to cancer (which, now that I think about it, Fadel may also know) and his worries about a father who "lost his bearings for a bit" (which he probably doesn't). Style, who tries to comfort Fadel in his own loss by offering a safe space and a sympathetic ear.

Style, who doesn't just see Fadel for his tragedy, but is asking to be given the chance to accept all of Fadel as a person. Style, who not only wants but has the capacity, to be the only person Fadel needs to rely on. Style who, despite the sea of differences between them, understands Fadel on a level that is so very foundational.

I'm going to slightly segue and mention something that may not resonate with everyone, but really hit me in the gut this episode: because I lost my father when I was 16 after he battled cancer for 2 painful years. And this revelation about Style has totally shifted and coloured everything Style has done in a new light for me. Because not only does this totally explain Style's sometimes almost stubbornly childish demeanour (it's common in adults who've had to 'grow up' too early), but also why Style shows seemingly random flashes of insight and maturity when they are most crucial. Notably, Style has this almost instinctive sense of when he needs to back off a sore point with Fadel that I couldn't quite put my finger on until this episode.

I've seen a few jokes about Style's awkward subject change, but I've actually got a friend who I hold very dear to my heart who was one of the only people to give me a sense of normalcy and comfort when my dad was on his last few days and then at his funeral. And part of that was the instinctive way she would know when I needed to just. Not be a grieving daughter for a few minutes. To get a small respite from the overwhelming hopelessness and sense of impending loss. To get a moment to breathe and gather my strength, because knowing I was never going to see my dad again, or hear his voice, or hold his hand was tearing me apart back then. Sometimes she'd talk to me about college drama, sometimes she'd introduce a new kpop video to me, sometimes she'd just ask me what I wanted to eat and take me to go have a meal with her. And sometimes there really just isn't anything else to say other than "I'm sorry." Nothing you say - nothing you can say - is going to ever, ever make this grief go away, and in most cases, it was better when people (especially those who couldn't really understand) didn't try.

And I think if you look at Fadel very closely, there's a moment of genuine surprise (Fadel wasn't expecting the subject change at all) and then... something that looks like fondness mixed with exhausted relief. Because I don't think Fadel was ready to talk about his parents yet. This was honesty he wasn't ready to give Style, mostly prompted because Style himself had willingly been so vulnerable that a part of Fadel wanted to reciprocate. But further down that path lies not only his darkest memories, but also the connection to the part of his life he is not willing to share with Style yet. So this subject change is a relief, it's a blessing, but it's also Style knowing when he shouldn't push any further with Fadel's fragile heart.

Which brings me back to how well the episode's theme of trust (both deserved and undeserved) was woven in this episode. This is true on multiple levels and characters but I'm not even going to attempt to touch Kant in this post because... Lord, that is beyond me at the moment. Someone else needs to do that, pretty please, so I can reblog it and scream.

It starts, somewhat unexpectedly, with Fadel asking for entrance into the intimate spaces of Style's life.

So, this episode was not about Fadel's fear of his own feelings, desires, or even affection for Style - that appears to be fully addressed in episode 4. I think that's why we see Fadel be so physically affectionate and indulgent of Style in this episode. He's come to terms with his lust for Style's body (hence his comfort in initiating sex), he's accepted Style as his boyfriend and so can enjoy Style's playful teasing (still reluctantly, but Fadel is still an introvert even if he's mostly enjoying Style's rambunctious nature), and give into Style's (and Bison's and Kant's) cajoling with relatively little fuss.

He's even comfortable toying with the edges of revealing his darker and more sinister side by reminding Style implicitly about how violent Fadel has the potential to be. Recall that Fadel knows Style knows some of his capacity for violence; he just doesn't know how very thoroughly Style is aware of the full scale of this truth. It does help that Style evidences no actual fear and, in fact, looks positively euphoric. Like, buddy, pal, dearest one... please control yourself.

And yet something very, very telling is the way the show makes it a point to depict Fadel very deliberately getting drunk during the double date. Even before the date has started, Fadel looks to be about half a beer in and we see him constantly drinking, drinking, drinking during the whole date. From the conversation about trust he has with Style while Kant and Bison are being off key and adorable about it, to after Kant leaves and Bison gets worried. And we've seen Fadel cope with emotional and mental distress with alcohol before, so we know that Fadel is internally fighting some kind of very intense battle even as he is also very clearly enjoying moments with Style on this date (most notably when they're dancing by the bowling lanes and when Style asks him to go home with him).

So here's my take: rather than being about love, this is about Fadel fighting to hold onto his own philosophy on relationships and trust. Because as much as I do believe Fadel believes he's telling the truth when he tells Style that 100% trust is "impossible", I think it's clear that's not what he wants.

What he wants is to finish this last job so that the only thing he can't be honest about with Style will finally stop being a factor in his life. What he wants is to fully and completely reciprocate the openness Style seems to be giving Fadel. What he wants is to switch off his brain and let his heart lead for once, to stop fighting a battle he has no desire to win anymore, only he can't. Trust (not love) is Fadel's final frontier, and one which he can't quite give up in spite of himself.

Which is why I think Fadel intentionally gets himself drunk here. Because he wants to let his guard down around Style. He wants to open himself fully, he wants to "lay himself bare" for Style, he wants Style to know the full truth and accept him anyway - and he gets so close, but can't quite get there - because he doesn't know that Style already has.

When Style says this, Fadel thinks it's empty words, not knowing that Style has long passed the bar Fadel thinks is insurmountable. And just like Style was able to offer safety and reassurance to the vulnerability Fadel was showing in episode 4, Style instinctively gets to the core of Fadel's darkest fears again:

Style: One day, I'll be your 100%.

This isn't (just) a promise that Style will wear Fadel's stubbornness down, or that Style will be worthy of Fadel's 100% (which, already, has me in tears, ngl). Beyond that, this is Style promising Fadel isn't ruined for this; that it isn't too late, that whatever hurts and wounds Fadel has can be made whole again. That the kind of honest and all-encompassing and unconditional trust which Fadel says is impossible can, in fact, be his. That Fadel still has the capacity to trust and be trusted the way he so desperately, painfully longs for.

I know a lot of people have said Style in this episode is writing cheques he has no ability to honour, but I think it's more layered than that. Because in a very significant and profound way, Style is wholly deserving of Fadel's trust. Because in all the ways that Fadel has ever known he should want, Style actually IS worthy of his trust. Style knows the truth Fadel is hiding, knows what this man is capable of, knows the danger of being in his arms, knows the likely nonexistent future Fadel has to offer him -- and wants him anyway. Style is a man who would stare into Fadel’s darkness and reach out first. Strip away the complication of Kant being blackmailed and dragging Style into his mission, and Style is literally perfect for Fadel. He is exactly what Fadel wants (and possibly has wanted for a very long time). He is, in fact, exactly what Fadel needs to ever experience anything beyond the shadow of a life he's had so far.

But oh, the cruel narrative means that Style is also, simultaneously, painfully undeserving of Fadel's trust; and this is something Style is very much aware of. I think that's why he's trying so very hard to be worthy in all the other ways he can be. Style's awareness of what Fadel is hiding enables Style to (counterintuitively) be completely honest about his feelings for and about Fadel even as he cannot reveal his motivations. So he gives Fadel as much honesty as he can: offers the vulnerability of his own pain and hurts; the comfort of his true understanding and acceptance.

And just as Fadel's vulnerability in the abandoned factory was met with Style choosing a form of physical connection that prioritised Fadel's pleasure (it's made very clear that Style is jerking Fadel off and that all his focus in that moment was on Fadel, not his own pleasure), so too is this moment met with Style very intentionally choosing to worship Fadel's body with all the tenderness and genuine emotional weight that Style wanted Fadel to have in their first time in the storeroom.

Because, crucially, this was Style giving Fadel the chance to lay himself at least physically bare. This is the closest either of them can get to full honesty with the secrets they both are keeping. It's why Style tries so very hard to show the care and adoration and genuine feelings he has for Fadel. Why he makes sure that the vulnerability of Fadel getting himself as drunk and as relaxed and as trusting as Fadel can allow himself to be is tied only to gentleness and tenderness and pleasure.

Because Style actually knows that Fadel can't (and shouldn't) trust him in the way Fadel truly wishes to.

And as much as I believe that Style genuinely means this from the bottom of his heart, the horrifying full truth is that it is Style that has the metaphorical knife hovering over Fadel's chest. He is the one with the capacity to actually give Fadel a new scar that would truly matter. He is, in fact, the only one Fadel wants to fully trust -- and this, along with Style's compromised heart, makes it so that the circumstances will doom them both.

#this episode broke me in ways i wasn't ready for because of style's backstory so fair warning there's no level of objectivity whatsoever #i'm sure much as already been said about this line and this moment and i'm sorry if i'm just repeating someone else (please let me know!)#i haven't had the time or physical OR emotional capacity to actually read any meta on episode 5 #so i apologise in advance if i screwed up anything but these are just my (somewhat disjointed and very emotionally driven) thoughts #the heart killers #the heart killers the series #fadelstyle #style sattawat #fadel #thk ep 5 #thk meta #i understand why dunk said this scene was so hard and weighty and was his favourite now #(or at least i think this was the one he means?? I vaguely remember an interview where dunk talked about them talking #before they have sex and how emotionally charged it was)#i'll have to go through my tags and see if i talked about it #but either way our boys both did such excellent jobs this episode #as they have been doing every episode but each time i really am just... newly awed by their talent and my adoration for them grows <3 #joongdunk #joong archen #dunk natachai #<my posts>

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revelboo · 14 hours ago

Note

Metroplex? 🥺

Big baby needs love.

He does

I Can Feel You Pt 13

Metroplex x Reader

• “I don’t know why I bother, no one ever listens,” Ratchet says, startling you awake from where you’d been drowsing after losing Metroplex again and you flush. Because he had told you to stay away from the drone and you’d spent the night in its lap. “Other Cybertronians don’t listen, why would a human.” Sitting up in the drone’s lap still cocooned in your blanket, you guiltily avoid looking at Ratchet as he wanders around the medbay making a lot more noise than is probably necessary. Clearly annoyed with you, so it’s a surprise when he drops an MRE at your feet and then stomps off.

• Drifting, he dreams of you. The way you’d felt in his arms, the warmth of you and the way you fit against him. Hates putting that worry on you, to ask for even more than you’ve already given him. But you’re all he has, the only one who’s bothered to even try to reach out to him. It’s getting easier to keep a thought hooked in the drone. Hearing through it as he gathers his strength. Can hear you talking to Ratchet, trying to convince him to go with you down into his interior.

• Looking up at Rachet as the medic grimaces, you wish Metroplex would wake up again. Explain it to Ratchet, because you’re just a human. They don’t take you seriously and you know it. Usually don’t really mind even though it makes you so lonely, but right now? You need his help. Metroplex needs his help. “We’ve explored down there, but haven’t been able to find anything to explain what’s wrong,” he says, freezing as the drone curls an arm around you, servos splayed against your hip. Under you, the drone slowly moves, lurching upright and dragging you with it, your legs dangling. “Is that Metroplex?” Ratchet asks and you wordlessly shake your head, not knowing how you know, only that you do.

• Exhausted, he sinks into his dreams of you, losing connection with the drone. In his dreams, you’re back in that hidden, guarded space. Can feel your warm, bare feet on his interior as you tip your face up toward his spark, letting that light play over you and illuminate you until you don’t seem half real. Unfurling the protective petals of that node in invitation to connect again. Tendrils uncoiling to snare you as soon as you touch him, he sees your arm lift, soft fingers hovering over him. And then his plating under your feet caves in with a wrenching pain, pulled apart by that yawning wound inside him. That ruined space bridge arcing with malevolent light as you fall with a soundless cry and there’s nothing he can do.

• Dangling as Ratchet tries to pry its arm loose, the medic swears as the drone takes an uncertain step, then another. Dragging him with it as it strides out of Medbay and you see the ground shift, opening to reveal a path like it had in your home that night Metroplex had led you to him. “I told you not to mess with it,” Ratchet snarls as you struggle to wriggle loose. It’s not hurting you, but you can’t get free either. But it’s taking you underground. To Metroplex and you stop fighting. “It’s okay,” you whisper, not at all sure. “It’s taking us to the problem.” That has to be it. Glaring, Ratchet strides alongside the drone as it carries you down into the darkness.

Hard to learn the workings of

This lonesome charade

I'm filled with hesitation

Staring down the tide

It pulls you apart

It stabs in the dark

It carries away

I'm starting to see

The problem with me

Is everything

I can't wait to find you, I really hate that I'm alone

I got a flurry of words

But I got nothing to say

And why does everything

Always end this way?

If I asked you to let me go

Would you hold on, would you hold on?

I try hard to let go but the pull is too great

Consumed with the promise

Of one last chance

Are you holding on?

Cause I'm still holding on

#transformers x reader #metroplex x reader #idw metroplex

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doberbutts · 1 day ago

Text

I was a Girl Scout for about 7 or so years before my troop disbanded and my area couldn't find another leader until after I aged out, or else I would have stayed in the Scouts much longer.

I will say that at least when I was a Scout, I could see why a trans boy might be uncomfortable, as there is a LOT of emphasis on girlhood and sisterhood and being a girl growing into a woman etc. And there may be a question about how appropriate it is for him to be sharing the same sleeping areas and changing areas as the girls as these kids age and puberty behinds to happen.

However. However. The Girl Scouts have already declared that they are friendly to trans girls and will accept them in direct opposition to the Boy Scouts original stance on trans youth as an organization, and the opposition to *that* was pretty much verbatim: what happens when a trans girl goes through puberty and is still using the same changing areas and cabins and such as the cis girls. And the Girl Scouts pretty much went "w/e we'll figure it out, girls are girls so anyone who is a girl can stay" and to my knowledge that's pretty much as far as it went.

(Also at least when my troop went camping, we went with the local Boy Scout troop and so we had "boy bathrooms" and "girl bathrooms" and "boy cabins" and "girl cabins" so it's not even that hard to like. Just have the kid use the correct bathroom and cabin for their gender. But perhaps other troops don't coordinate like that.)

So it's... odd, to me, to say that reacting negatively to this case of a trans boy is, hmm, "saying trans men can be everywhere but trans women can be nowhere" because it's more or less the opposite that's happening to this kid. The Boy Scouts took much longer to accept trans boys than the Girl Scouts did to accept trans girls, which means there's a fairly high chance that this particular kid likely *already had made connections in his local GS troop and didn't want to uproot his social group*.

This is important and needs some keeping in mind- because this kid was 17, and has been part of his GS troop since he was 6, and Boy Scouts only started allowing trans boys on a case-by-case basis... 7 years ago. So he was 10, and already well-secured in his troop community, when the Boy Scouts had a shaky at best policy, in a super red area that likely *would not* have approved his entry regardless of what the Council said, much like they did for other trans boys *that same calendar year*.

So... to be clear, we're asking a 9-11 year old depending on exact birthdays to give up all their friends on a solid maybe that, considering the area, almost guarantees he's going to at least get beaten up and bullied... because that is just good transgender-friendly praxis. Yeah. OK.

We also don't know how long he's been out, or even known he was transgender, so it's very possible that his social transition is much more recent than that even, which gives him even longer to have formed connections.

And *then* you add that usually your Scout troop is your local community, so he may very well have known boys within his local Boy Scout troop that were known to not be kind to queer kids and din't want the trouble. I can tell you that the girls in my troop clocked me well before I even knew the word transgender and were not kind to me about it, and I lived in an equally red part of the same state.

folks if you can't conceive of a world in which both trans boys and trans girls are able to exist in the same space that's like. your problem. i actually think it's incredibly easy for the girl scouts to both be fully inclusive of trans girls AND any trans boys who want to participate in it, especially if they were a scout pre transition and that is where all of their friends and support comes from. or if there are no boy scouts nearby. or if they are nonbinary and assigned whatever at birth and want to be in a scouting troup and girl scouts seems more affirming than boy scouts. why do Y'ALL feel like trans girls can only be affirmed through binarism. why are y'all so uncharitable to trans boys.

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healingpage · 18 hours ago

Text

Not made of glass - choi soobin

ꕥ pairing: choi soobin x afab reader

ꕥ genres: smut (basically pwp)

ꕥ warnings: soft!dom soobin to hard!dom, sub!reader, fingering, unprotected sex, big!dick soobin lol, oral m!receiving, so many petnames i melted, squirting, spanking

ꕥ wc: 2.9k

ꕥ a/n: the title is pretty much self-explanatory... my first smut for soobin! i want him so bad merry christmas to those celebrating!!

taglist: @hanhani29 @bloomngspring @hhoneyhan

A few months in since you started dating, Soobin is still ever the kind, composed and gentle boyfriend. Princess treatment is always on the maximum level, the reserved soft spot only for you that you can’t help but wonder sometimes how he is the same guy that can’t skip a day without getting into silly quarrels with Beomgyu. He takes you on a date at least every once in a while, knowing his hectic schedule you are more than grateful that he makes some time for you. His love language being act of service, you won’t have to lift a finger around him. Your friends call him a gentle giant, a nickname that makes you laugh every time you are reminded of it.

At the end of a date day, usually he would stay overnight at yours. You are doing your night routine by the vanity, onto the last part of your skincare when he creeps up behind your back, his arms finding their ways around your waist. His head rests on your left shoulders, lips attracted to your neck like how bees are to honey.

“God, I missed you so much,” his voice comes out much whinier than he thought. You put down your moisturiser on the table, turning around to face him. The wet hair that is evident from the earlier shower he had made his bangs droop down adorably, and sexy at the same time.

“Show me how bad then,” you say teasingly, the provocative smirk you give Soobin is enough to set him off as he lifts you from the ground, the placement of his hands on you careful to not hurt you in any way. Your giggles fill the entire room as he places you on the soft, silky sheets that you just changed this morning.

He leans in, his mouth hovering over yours as he mutters his words of love to you before your lips connect together. The ghostly touch of his hands on your shoulder first, slowly going down to your breasts making you gasp. You continue making out for a while before he lets go and cups your cheeks, giving a peck on your forehead. The intimate action gives you butterflies, watching him closely as he works around to undress himself. The eye contact is maintained, and it’s insanely hot you can’t help but blush seeing him.

“Like what you see babe?” he asks, completely aware of your flustered face. You reach out a hand to trace his toned muscle, his abs appearing even more prominent than the last time you saw them.

“Very. Looks so hot on you, oh my god—” your breath cuts short as he accidentally tugs the only thing left on your body, your bra to be exact, harder than he intends to as the fabric tears.

“Oh! Sorry baby, did I hurt you?”

Yes, he did. In fact, he ruined you. In the most sexy way possible. You stare at him closely, lips puckered as he tries to read your expression. When you say nothing, that’s when he inches closer, promising to buy you another, even ten sets of underwear if you would want him to. You chuckle lightly, both hands supporting his neck and pulling him closer.

“Soobin, I could care less about that. I like it,” you confess, his eyes soften. Without waiting for his reply, you flip him over. His length is already poking through, Soobin hisses when you touch him there, the feeling shoots him in like electricity when your soft hands contrast with the veiny muscle there.

“This hard for me?” you start with a kitten lick, his hand is flying to hold your hair in place for you, wrapping it nicely around his wrist like a ponytail. Always very attentive and gentle.

“Only for you, love,” he answers, lids drowsy as you start to take him down your throat. You’re long past caring about the drool that drips from your stretched lips to your sheets, Soobin coos at your state and mumbles a few praises as your mind overwhelms with the way his tip presses the back of your throat, the weight of one big hand never leaves stroking your hair.

Moments later, he finds you struggling with his length, eyes watery as you look at him, he can’t help but to anxiously remind you to take only what you can. Your hand that is placed on his thighs is gripping harder on it, yet you show no sign of tapping out like what both of you agreed on whenever any of you feels uncomfortable to continue.

“Y/n–” his own breath hitches, the feeling good to him as well, the urge to just push you further down on his cock blooming in his mind but he puts it aside as he looks at his darling, sweet girlfriend on the verge of tears.

“Love, you can stop now,” he incites, feeling bad for you. With all the constraints, you manage to shake your head, insisting that you can take much more. You relax your throat a bit, breathing through your nose as you push him in deeper. Soobin groans at the action, hips jerking and thrusting sloppily. You work your best to satisfy him, until he’s left a whiny mess, as he reaches his first orgasm of the night.

He’s humming softly, lost in his own world of pleasure while you fight to stifle your gag reflex, letting the liquid go down your throat before finally releasing him from your mouth. The drool that follows through as you backs away in search of proper breath is wiped away instantly by him, feeling bad as he strokes your cheek lovingly.

“Don’t push your limit if you can’t, baby, remember?”

You could only let out a smile, pulling him on top of you. “I have never not, Soobin. I promise I am okay,” you answer, his gaze on you feels a little too strong, so you continue, “It’s a good kind of hurt.”

“Really?”

“Uh uh. Now hurry,” you urge him, your puppy eyes paired with your pout instantly puts Soobin in position, in between your legs. He’s pushing your thighs apart, working his fingers delicately on your dripping core. You relax to his touch, responsive moans here and there fill Soobin’s ears. “So fucking wet…”

Soobin rarely swears around you, but whenever he does in bed it drives you nuts. The low voice of his, with a little bit of grunt on it and the fact that you're making him feel that way has you pooling down there.

“Am ready now, come on,” you whine out, almost running out of patience as he slowly works his fingers wonderfully inside your pulsing cunt. Soobin is far from stupid, especially in knowing how your body works, he knows it’s calling for something more. Something that only he can give you. You keep on squirming around, desperate for more friction than what he’s already giving you.

“Please—want you so bad, Binnie,” your voice comes out as weak, a high pitched moan follows after when he retracts his fingers.

“Shh, I know babe, just getting you prepared for me, don’t wanna hurt you, hmm?” he coos, spreading your legs further just so he can snug up in between comfortably. His length makes its way to your entrance, your joined moans breaking out as he gathers the slick to coat around it. The pleasure gives you goosebumps, finding anchor in his hand that holds on your thigh.

He finally pushes in his tip, his cock finally stretches you out. The sensation triggers him, watching closely how your walls are pulsing to let him in. Even though he was being gentle, nothing would help when you will never get used to his size. You could not even get a hold of it when a tear drop stains your cheek, his girth inside too overwhelming. His growing concern from earlier only expands, his thumb finger delicately brushes it off from you, pecking your lips after. “Baby…”

“No, I—ah,” you are cut off from one of his thrust, unknowingly hitting your sensitive spots, filling you to the hilt. “Feels so good, Soobin..”

As he sees you struggle and non stop squirming under him, he could not help but to feel bad, slowing his pace and rubbing the skin of your waist to ease you up to accept him. Your expression confused, quite dismayed at the slowing pace. He takes his time with you, stroking your messy hair, pecking every surface of your neckline yet you grow greedy and needier by time. With a desperate huff, you call out his name, he whispers a soft hum in your ear to ensure he’s listening.

“You don’t have to be that gentle with me, Soobin. I am not made of glass,” you say, eyes glistening with lust as Soobin cups both your cheeks

“Did I do something wrong? Do you not like how I act in bed?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” you reassure quickly, scooting him closer. You reach out and take his hand, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “You’re so gentle with me, Soobin. And I love that about you. You always make me feel safe. But...”

He tilted his head, lips pouting in focus, studying your expression. “But what?”

Your cheeks are warming, feeling intimidated by his stare. “Sometimes... I think you’re holding back. Like you’re scared of pushing too hard, saying too much, or being too... intense with me.”

Soobin blinks once, twice, his mouth parting slightly as if to respond, but no words come out. You almost melt at the sight, his perfectly shaped lips look very fluffy and inviting so you pull him down to you, giving a small kiss on his lips.

You massages his palm, your voice soft but resolute. “I want all of you, baby. The gentle side, the intense side, even the messy parts you think I am not capable of handling. I can take it. I want to take it.”

Soobin looks down at your intertwined hands, his thumb now tracing over the smaller yours. “I guess... I'm afraid of hurting you. You mean so much to me, baby. I didn’t want to risk being too much, I don’t ever wanna cause you pain.”

“You won’t,” you deny firmly, voice stern. “I trust you. And I want you to trust me to take whatever you’ve got. Don’t hold back on me anymore.”

For a moment, you both stay in silence, the weight of his body on top of yours never feels uncomfortable, or too much.

"Do you trust me?"

"Babes, if I didn't I wouldn't be here. I would run away once I set my eyes on your big cock," you jokingly say to ease the tension, his dimple appearing as he chuckles.

“Alright. No more holding back, I guess. You asked for it.” He sinks his face further in your chest, leaving a few marks of him there. Your heart flutters, a spark of excitement dancing in your chest. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

The rest is history, you can't quite describe the feeling of being ravished by him for the first time. It is amazing. You are too fucked out, too weak to do anything besides moan and writhe underneath him, letting him use you as he wishes, limits all thrown out of the window as he rams inside you aggressively. You are more like a living fuck doll to be filled with him and his seed only.

“You like that, baby? Y/n?” He repeats his hard thrust over and over, distant noise ringing in your ears, his large and veined hands gripping your hips and leaving bruises on the soft flesh. Your body has been decorated with hickeys and bite marks, your wrists bruising from when he held them earlier.

Soobin then reaches around with one hand, rubbing circles on your swollen and overstimulated clit, tears rolling down your cheeks at the added sensation. He only grins at that, loving your response to his touches as two of his fingers rub circles on your sensitive bud. “Gonna cum for me? Come on, show me how good of a girl you are.”

“Yes! So good— argh!” you scream out as you reach your high, your cunt tightening around his cock as he pauses his thrust, waiting for you to loosen up a little before continuing. You lay weak in his arms, sweat trickles down your neckline at the heat. As you catch your breath and the overstimulation passes, your trembling hands come up to his hair, tugging on it a bit.

“More, baby.”

He laughs at that, iris darkening as he looks at your state. Eager for more, although it seems like you are on the verge of tears by now.

“Aren't you an impatient little one?”

“Want you to use me,” you demand assertively, eyes wide and round. Your lips pursed a little, Soobin leans down to steal a quick peck there.

“My baby wants more? You can take it?”

“Yes, of course, I love you—oh fuck!” your voice gets louder as his fingers hovers around your bud, he’s pressing some friction on it so your hands that are on his hair grasp it harder. He chuckles at your desperate action, your legs trying to escape from the euphoric pleasure so bad he has to hold onto it. “Soobin! Oh my–god!”

Your legs start quivering so much, the build-up is insane, three of his fingers start moving inside your cunt uncontrollably, hitting all the right spots. You squeal as his skilled fingers continue making a mess of you, the sheets wet with your cream as you feel your high approaching quickly. Soobin watches you closely in amusement, your thrown back head, eyes rolled to the back, mouth open. You never look so beautiful, gorgeous, very stunning, he could not take his eyes off you.

“Love you too, y/n. So much, baby. Come for me, hmm? I got you,” his soft voice accompanies your loud whines. Beyond his expectation, he’s getting more than what he wanted. As the pleasure increases, you could not hold it in so you suddenly squirt all over him. Your surprising outcome that shocks even you makes you squeal, as you hold onto his shoulder for support. You have never even squirted before.

“Oh fuck, fuck, baby,” Soobin groans, collecting the liquid to smear it all over your aching pussy. “You just did that, for me?”

You are given not much time to recollect your thoughts when you are suddenly being wrapped around his arms, he’s setting you into another position. The touch on your hips are far from gentle as you are manhandled on all fours before him. Before you can complain, his tip is already inside, soon you are swallowing his whole length. Your eyes widen at the change of angle, much more intense than before.

“That was so hot, babe, damn, you want me to ruin you that bad? You like it when I’m fucking you rough?” he’s whispering in your ears, hand coming down to land a smack on your pretty flesh bare on his hips.

“Mmngh, oh! Sen—sensitive, oh please,” your weak hands wobbly in finding support on the sheets, grabbing whatever you can to stay arched for him.

He stays silent at your plea, ignoring it as the slapping skin of his against your increases in sound, his thrust fast and precise for his own release. Your drenched pussy makes nasty noises as his cock rams inside, sounding like music to his ears. "You can take it, come on, be a big girl," leaves his lips wheneve your legs almost give up, his big hands hold you up, not letting you go anywhere further than now.

“Look so cute, you want to be filled, sweetie?” he’s dirty talking now, your mind already going anywhere you find yourself nodding desperately. His cock twitches inside, forcing you to take the whole of him, his tip dangerously poking to your cervix by now. And god, does it feel so good.

“Yes, come in me please,” the honeyed voice of yours could never make him deny you, you are his baby after all, his length buried so deep inside you before his hips shake. The thrust is now shaky and unstable as his cum spills, warming your inside. “Argh, fucking take it!” Soobin grunts.

Immediately after he’s done, he’s pulling himself out, letting the combined release of yours leak. Carefully, he takes your waist, helping you to lay on your back, head pillowed by the softness of your plushie on the bed. You moan at the sight around your legs, his lips pressing kisses around your thighs, anywhere near your pussy but there to not let the oversensitivity overcome you. Your eyes then follow his movement, kneeling to scoot closer to you as he removes the hair strand from your face.

“Satisfied?”

“Never have been so before. Thank you, I love you,” you confess. His hands are now finding home on your back, wrapping you in a warm embrace.

“Love you more, baby. Did it hurt?” he’s asking, eyes wandering around your expression for honesty, afraid he has taken it too far. Your head shakes as you smile, convincing him that all is good. He lets out a sigh of relief, your night spent together while he takes care of you like always.

#txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #kpop smut #soobin hard hours #soobin x you #choi soobin smut #soobin smut #soobin hard thoughts

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margeoww · 1 day ago

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Can you write a Toto fic where him and his wife were married for 20 years and then divorced and they see eachother again after 4 years of no contact?

After All This Time

back to my main masterlist

pairing: toto wolff x exwife!reader

summary: After 20 years of marriage and four years of silence, Toto Wolff and his ex-wife cross paths at a gala. What begins as a polite conversation soon reveals lingering emotions, unspoken regrets, and the possibility that some connections are never truly broken.

warnings: Themes of divorce and unresolved emotions and bittersweet tones with implied angst and longing.

The clinking of glasses, low hum of conversations, and the occasional sound of laughter filled the room. Toto Wolff stood at the edge of the gala, his usual composed demeanor masking the slight unease he felt. He wasn’t one for these events anymore; they always seemed too polished, too formal. But tonight, he had been convinced to attend.

He scanned the room casually, his eyes falling on familiar faces: team principals, drivers, sponsors. And then, he saw her.

It had been four years since their divorce. Twenty years of marriage undone, leaving behind only memories, regrets, and the occasional pang of guilt that crept in during quiet moments. He hadn’t expected to see her tonight, let alone feel the weight of her presence so acutely.

She stood by the bar, her smile as effortless as he remembered, though her laughter seemed freer now. She was talking to someone he didn’t recognize, and Toto found himself frozen in place, torn between the urge to approach her and the fear of reopening old wounds.

Before he could decide, her eyes caught his. The smile faltered, just for a moment, replaced by something he couldn’t quite read. Recognition? Curiosity? Pain? She excused herself from her conversation and began walking toward him.

Toto straightened his posture, his years of dealing with high-stress situations kicking in. But nothing could prepare him for this.

—Hello, Toto —she said softly, her voice laced with an undeniable familiarity that made his chest tighten.

He nodded, offering a small smile. —Hello.

There was a pause, not quite awkward but not comfortable either. They were two people who had shared everything once, now strangers navigating a conversation as if treading on glass.

—It’s been a long time —she said, breaking the silence.

—Four years —he replied, the words heavy with unspoken emotions.

Her lips twitched into a faint smile. —You always were good with numbers.

He chuckled, the sound low and brief. —And you were always better with words.

Another pause. He wanted to say so much, ask so many things—how she had been, if she was happy, if she missed him the way he missed her during quiet nights. But none of those words felt right, so he asked the simplest question.

—How have you been?

She hesitated, her gaze drifting to the drink in her hand. —Good. Different, but good. And you?

He nodded slowly. —Busy. The team keeps me occupied.”

—That doesn’t surprise me —she said, her tone lighter. —You always thrived under pressure.

—Not always —he admitted, the words slipping out before he could stop them. Her eyes softened, and he knew she understood what he meant.

They fell into silence again, the air between them thick with memories. He wanted to reach out, to say the things he never could when they parted. But would it change anything?

—I didn’t expect to see you here —she said eventually.

—Nor did I —he admitted. —But I’m… glad I did.

Her expression shifted, something unreadable flickering across her face. —I should go. It was nice seeing you, Toto.

Before she could turn away, he reached out, his fingers lightly brushing her arm. —Wait.

She stopped, looking back at him, and for the first time that night, he allowed the vulnerability to show.

—I’ve missed you —he said quietly.

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, he saw the same pain mirrored in her eyes. But then she smiled—a bittersweet, knowing smile.

—I’ve missed you too —she whispered.

And with that, she walked away, leaving him standing alone in the crowded room, the echoes of her words lingering in the air.

Heyyy!!!! This is my first request and it’s about my man Toto 😜. Thank you for requesting this anon, I hope to see more of these. And also hope u like it, remember that English is not my first language ‼️

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ninikrumbs · 1 day ago

Text

Christmas love

satoru gojo x reader. for all my girlies spending christmas alone. fluffy fluff fluff. idiots in love. established relationship. ᰍ ׅ ۫ . 🧣 ೀ

The smell of cinnamon and pine wafts through the air, as Satoru and you left the Christmas Market. His hand held yours inside his jacket pocket as you watch him talk animatedly beside you.

“I’m sure my plans can’t compare to yours,sweets!”

Satoru was just about at the end of telling you his plans for the rest of Christmas week; Babbling excitedly about his Christmas dinner with his family, a short ski trip with Suguru and Shoko on the 25th, and even a reunion dinner with some old high school friends.

It wasn’t a surprise to you, Satoru was social, friendly, abundantly popular, and the life of every party so of course everyone wanted him around.

You laugh as genuinely as you could before answering him, “Of course! I’m jam packed, I feel like Christmas caroling is the only thing I’m not doing this week.”

Lies. Well not completely, you did have a few dinners lined up with a couple of close friends, even a birthday party. The only thing was your were gonna spend Christmas Eve and Christmas day alone.

A good few of your friends were married so they spent Christmas with their families or spouses, some where taking out of the country trips and some were working on Christmas day. It was a bit depressing, you weren’t exactly expecting to spend Christmas alone.

But at least you had today, which was your date with Satoru to go around the Christmas Village. You had fun, with the dinner, the ice skating, the slow dancing under the mistletoe with Satoru stealing a kiss, and now holding hands as the both of you walked to his car under the cold winter air. It was perfect.

Satoru’s lips quirk up, “Hmm, maybe we should go caroling next year! Start a new tradition together!”

While it moves your heart to bits that he can see you still being together next year this early into your one month relationship, it still stung that you won’t be spending Christmas with him this year. You honestly thought he would ask you when he started talking about his plans a few days ago, but then he started asking about your amazing plans so you decided to fib.

This connection is new and delicate. You couldn’t ask him to drop his traditions and plans for you; plans that were made before you started dating, that was just selfish and knowing him, he probably would drop everything if he found out about your non existent plans. So you chose not too, it’ll be fine, you’ll be fine.

You playfully roll your eyes at him, “Sure, Toru. You can take some singing lessons while your at it!”

He holds a hand to his heart in offense, gasping so dramatically, “I’ll have you know that I have the voice of an angel!”

“Babe..” You clasp his free hand before exhaling, “Whoever told you that was lying.”

You made a run for it the moment the words left your lips, laughing against the icy breeze.

Barely getting 5 steps away, strong arms capture your waist from behind, lifting you off your feet. Damn his long legs. “Gotcha!”

He places you down for one second before throwing you on his shoulder and starts walking.

“Satoru, put me down!” You grasp the back of his jacket, terrified of falling onto the icy pavement.

“Nope.” He says popping the p.

“I’m gonna fall!”

“You won’t.” Reassuring you by tightening his grasp on your waist.

“At least hold me with two arms!”

“Your man is the strongest, sweets. I only need one arm to carry you.”

You snort before mumbling, “Show off..”

He slaps a hand to your butt making you jump, startled. “I heard that.”

“Good.” Which earned you another soft spank to your butt, “Satoru! stop that and put me down, people are staring.”

Though you were sure they staring at your gorgeous boyfriend.

“Not until you say that your boyfriend is the most handsome man in the world and has a voice can even bring the dead to life!”

He was absolutely ridiculous, “No way!”

“Then your gonna be up there indefinitely.” He was joking you were sure of it, but there was nothing wrong in indulging him sometimes.

“Fine, I give!”

“Yessss!” He whoops in victory.

“Can you at least put me down?” You ask meekly.

He huffs, smoky air puffing out, “So you can run away again? Not happening.”

“Wouldn’t you rather I say it your face?”You say trying to convince him which makes him hum, thinking about it.

After a moment, he gently places you back on your feet but not without pulling you flush to his chest, holding you steady.

You were a little bit dizzy from the change of position, but you could still see Satoru’s bright azure eyes staring at you expectantly.

Once again, he was absolutely ridiculous yet you gaze at him with such exasperated fondness.

You reach up and softly brush his snowy bangs away from his face, your touch creating a light blush to dust his cheeks. “My boyfriend is the most handsome man in the world.”

Its makes his eyes gleam and smug smile curve on his lips. He was so pretty, so where was the lie?

“And..” You breathe out heavily as if it took everything in you say the next few words, “He has a voice that can bring the dead back to life.”

He grins victoriously and leans down to press a peck on your nose the your lips which makes you melt, “See? that wasn’t too hard.”

“You’re lucky I love you.” You grumble but with no real spunk behind it.

He presses another soft kiss to your lips, eyes filled with so much warmth, “The luckiest.”

You were still pouting when Satoru started walking towards the car again. Your gaze landing at your intertwined hands, no longer in his pocket. Your eyes drop when the reminder that you were gonna spend Christmas away from him creeps in your mind once more.

It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.

—

“Yeah, yeah, I’m all packed.” Satoru grumbles.

Shoko was nagging him about packing correctly for their ski trip. Make sure to bring your actual ski’s idiot. Like he didn’t know that. He forgot that one time. Big deal. He could just buy another pair at the ski resort.

“Hey, Gojo. I’m kinda surprise that your coming with us this year or I at least thought you wouldn’t be coming alone.”

He sighs, throwing himself on his bed with mood dropping instantly. “I didn’t want to pull y/n from her plans.”

The fact that he wasn’t spending Christmas with her made him so depressed, he doubts he was gonna have fun on this ski trip.

He thinks he made a good job at hiding his displeasure from her. Not wanting to come off more childish that he already did. But damn it did he want to see her. The phone call from earlier was barely enough to have his fill of you..

“Huh? What plans?” Shoko’s confused voice rings from the phone.

“Y’know, dinner plans or was it a Christmas girls night with her friends that they planned a whole while ago.”

The line goes quiet for a while, “Satoru..No, she doesn’t.”

Satoru’s heart drops at the certainty on her voice, “What are you talking about?”

—

Familiar tunes of popular Christmas hits floats throughout your apartment along with the scent of newly baked gingerbread muffins cooling down on your kitchen counter.

You took as sip of your hot coco from your ugly Christmas mug as you admired the twinkling lights on your small festive tree. The sound of your fireplace crackling made everything feel more cozy.

Christmas was a holiday you always enjoyed. Especially the traditions that came with it: the pretty lights, the colorful gifts, the white snow covering the pavements and roofs, the Christmas gatherings and how everyone seems to be extra nice this time of year. Ever since you were a kid, Christmas was simply magical.

You didn’t mind spending Christmas alone. You already had the evening filled with plans on baking which you had just finished, reading, and binge watching some cheesy Christmas movies.

Still, you find your mind wandering, even the magic of the fluffy snow falling down your window pane couldn’t fend off the prickle of loneliness dripping down your heart. Not to mention snow only reminded you of a certain someone.

You let out a sad exhale before catching yourself. Shaking your head, you put you mug down your coffee table and proceeded to clap your palms on your cheeks.

It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. There’s always next year. You can be selfish then.

After pathetically comforting yourself, you sit on the sofa planning to start perusing the dozens of Christmas films on Netflix.

Hmm, The Holidate sounds interesting. Fun and quirky, something that’s not gonna make you bawl your eyes out. Perfect.

The that’s intro comes up on the screen, but a sudden hard knock on your door makes you click pause.

Who could that be? Did you order something? Its probably a neighbor who needs a wine opener.

You make your way to the door, the incessant knocking continues. “I’m coming. jeez.”

You swing the the door open. The sight that greets you makes you take a step back, your heart tumbling over itself.

There he is with his hands on his knees, gasping for air like he ran a marathon to get here. Sweat lines his forehead despite the cold air. He runs a hands through his white strands as he happily grins at you,.

“Satoru, what are you doing here?” You ask skeptically, “Shouldn’t you be on your way to your ski trip?”

You couldn’t let yourself hope that he was here for you, maybe he forgot something in your apartment.

Yet he proves you wrong when he stands up to his actual height. His face flush from the effort, closes the door behind him and tugs you flushed to his warm chest. Your senses fills with his scent and you melt. He smells like home.

He plants a soft kiss to you temple as he buries his hand in you hair, breathing you in, “You didn’t think I was gonna let you spend Christmas alone, did ya?”

Your eyes grew wide before tears start to prickle your eyelids, the gravity of spending Christmas alone somehow finally sunk in at his words, making you clasp his back in distress. You weren’t fine at all. “How did you know..?”

He lets out a breath and pulls back at bit to gaze into your eyes. “It doesn’t matter, what matters is why didn’t you tell me?”

You drop his gaze, not able to form the words. How could you tell him? That you didn’t wanna look so pathetic. That you didn’t make any plans in hindsight of wanting to spend Christmas with him. It was either a Christmas with him or no one at all.

A hand on your chin guides you back to look at him, his face so distraught it made your heart clench. “Baby, I wanted nothing more than to spend Christmas with you.”

“But your plans..”

“Fuck those plans! I don’t care about them. I wanted to cancel every single one of them just so I could spend Christmas week with you.” He cries out.

“What?”

A finger wipes a stray tear from your eyes before cupping your cheek. His starry eyes looks at you with worry and a shed of guilt, “If I made you feel like Id rather spend time with other people than my gorgeous girlfriend, then I’m doing a horrible job as your boyfriend.”

“No! It just-” Despite his assurances you still couldn’t wrap your head around it, “I couldn’t just make you drop your plans, Toru. I’d feel too bad about it.”

He caresses a thumb down your cheek in understanding, “I mean sure we could have eaten dinner with my family, but other than that I would’ve been much happier spending my week with you, pretty.”

You don’t know if you felt relieved or embarrassed. Relieved that he felt the same way or embarrassed that he found out about you non existent plans. Okay, you were both.

You cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you try to explain yourself, “I’m sorry, Toru.. Its just what we have- its just so new and I didn’t know how to go about it and..” You give resigned sigh, “I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Oh, baby.” He coos, pulling me back to his chest. “There’s no ruining this, that would be next to impossible, especially you. If there’s anyone who has a chance of ruining this, its me. You might get sick or too annoyed with me one of these days.”

He might be joking, but you could hear the insecurity lacing his words.

“No way!” You place a kiss on his chin. “That’s impossible.”

“I’m happy you think so, pretty.”

He pulls away once more and hangs his jacket on your coat rack. Then proceeds to lead you to your living room where you had everything set, from your Christmas decorations, your muffins, the tree, to the fireplace, and the paused movie.

“And to think you were gonna have such a cozy night without me, you must really hate me.”

You roll your eyes at him dramatics, “That’s far from the truth.”

He plops himself on the sofa that were filled with cozy Christmas themed pillows and thick blankets. The image made your stomach feel warm. He was here. Satoru was here. He came for you.

Like he always does.

You feel like an idiot for doubting him. He tilts his head at you just standing there. “Come here.”

And you do. Though before you could sit beside him, he pulls you down to his lap. Your back to his chest, “There you go. Right where you belong.”

You giggle, “There’s enough space for the both of us to sit, Toru.”

“Too much space if it makes you sit away from me.” He pouts childishly, tightening his arms around your waist.

“That’s just..” You shake your head with a fond smile. He nuzzles you neck for a good while, as if trying to make up for the time your weren’t in his arms.

“Sweets, I’m sorry” He murmurs against you neck after a while making you turn your head to look at him. “For what?”

“I should have been honest from the start..” His voice tinge with regret, “I wanted to beg you to cancel your plans from the beginning but I didn’t want to be selfish.”

You smile sheepishly at him, “Yet you wanted me to be selfish?”

He blinks, “Of course, your my girlfriend. I love you more than anything.” His voice was lace with so much unfiltered love, it made your eyes sting, “You come above everything else. I want you be selfish with me.”

You furrow your eyebrows, overwhelmed by his dedication, “Toru, that’s too much..”

He merely shakes his head, “Never too much. Not when it come to you. I hope you know that.”

You maneuver yourself in his lap so that your facing him. His sparkling blue eyes twinkling under the lights. He was so pretty it almost hurt. His mere existence overwhelmed you in the best way.

Cupping his face, you move in closer, “Then you should be selfish with me too. Don’t be scared to ask more of me, Toru.”

He stares at you, eyes tracing your face as if committing every feature to memory,

“God, I love you.” He breathes out as he pulls you by the neck and closes the gap between your lips.

Your toes curl as his lips molded with yours, your arms curls around his neck pulling him closer as he angled his head to deepen the kiss.

He groans against your lips as his tongue dances with yours and you could hear the sound of your lips echoing around the living room.

He tasted like candy and cinnamon. It made your head spin and heart pound a mile a minute , your hand crawled down touch his chest to feel his heart racing as fast as yours.

Its like he couldn’t get enough as he kissed you like a man starved again, again and again.

You didn’t want it to ever stop, but there was one more thing you needed to tell him.

You pull away with his lips chasing yours, eyes in a daze making you giggle, “Toru, before I forget.”

“What?” He says, bright blue eyes still focusing on your kiss bitten lips.

You pinch his nose, hoping to make him focus. “Merry Christmas, Toru.”

He blinks and scrunches his nose, a bit of clarity seeping into him as he smiles tenderly at you, “Merry Christmas, baby. On every list I ever sent. You’re the gift I love the best.”

Merry Christmas to everyone around the world!

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