#v friends to lovers

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 6 - Everything I Do

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), light fluff, mutual pining, light angst, love confession, smut (handjob, fingering, p in v sex), Dean's got the Mark of Cain, uh oh.

Summary/Warnings: The Mark reaches a breaking point. Usual Warnings, little angst, lotta smut.

Author's Note: I am of the firm belief Rowena would’ve said cunt religiously if the CW wasn’t full of a bunch of pussies.

Chapter title from Video Games by Lana Del Ray

Word Count: 8.7k

Read on A03!

Chapter 5

Dean can breathe. Not easily, but he can. He can feel the weight of something airy and thin wrapped around him, stuck to his skin and far too heavy. There’s a hand on his brow, and it’s not the right one. Dean’s not sure what the right one would even be, but he knows it’s not this one. This one feels a little wrinkled, and the nails are too long, and it doesn’t satiate the betterlust. It’s just there, pressed to his skin like it’s looking for something and not all too pleased with what it finds.

The longer it’s there, the more the betterlust pounds and stabs and scrapes at him. Rots his guts and carves open his skull and rips through his chest. It’s searching for something that’s not there, and Dean’s head is too clouded with pain and ache and sickness to figure out where he should even be looking. Not in the hand. Not in the thing around him like a shroud–hot and clinging to him like a plague—but maybe somewhere close. Because wherever Dean is—he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t have enough of a brain to guess right now—it’s unfamiliar, but feels right. He’s lying on something soft, and it smells good, and when his fingers flex, they’re tracing over an impression left on the area next to him. An indent left on the space by something that could curve and press into Dean exactly like he wants. Craves. Needs. 

The betterlust starts to flare and bellow, almost drowning out the low voices around him, and Dean knows he might die if he doesn’t find what fits into that impression and take it.

“How long has he been like this?”

“I’m not sure, a few hours?”

“Well can you try to be sure, Samuel?”

“I got here the same time you did, how am I supposed to be sure-“

“Ask our resident Dean Expert, the poor girl has been stuck with him all week-“

“No, I’m not going to make her do more. And, uh,” there’s a long sigh, and Dean still isn’t really sure what’s going on, or who these people are, or why they’re talking about him. “I don’t think it’s safe for her right now. To be around him. He said he didn’t want her-“

“He obviously lied, you idiotic boy-“

“He didn’t want her to know, Rowena. And it’s not my place to tell her-“

“She’s a big girl, she’ll survive a little bit of emotions.”

“He’d, he’d fucking kill me-“

“And he will kill himself if he does not accept what he needs! It’s quite honestly a miracle he was a stubborn enough arse to resist the Mark’s demands this long.”

Dean’s really fucking confused. There are two voices, one that sounds a little like his and one that very much doesn’t, and they’re both talking about him like he’s important. He doesn’t feel important. He mostly just feels tired, and bad, and sick. Sweaty and hungry and desperate for something he can’t name, but they say he needs to name or he’ll die, and he doesn’t even really know what names are right now-

“If I tell her, this becomes her responsibility-“

“Well, Dearie, I wasn’t aware you were stupid and blind-“

“Hey-“

“You cannot look me in the eyes and say that she would not welcome the responsibility, boy. She is so pathetically obsessed with him it makes me feel ill.”

Dean felt his mouth try to frown—he can’t figure out how to move, so it more of a twisted grimace—as he racked his mush of a brain to figure out who they could possibly be referring to. He couldn’t remember names, but he could remember presences. Remember that the voice like his was good, and he was supposed to protect it. The voice that wasn’t like his was bad, and kind of a bitch, but helpful when they ran out of options. There wasn’t a third voice, but there was a smell that he really liked. Loved. Craved. Needed-

That was the imprint. And it wasn’t here right now, but the betterlust and already spiraling around it and constricting his lungs as he tried to find it. He needed it, and it didn’t need him, and he was going to die-

“I know,” the familiar voice sighed. “Believe me, I know, but I can’t ask that of her-“

“She’ll shred your sorry arse apart if you don’t-“

“And Dean will put a bullet through my brain if I do!”

“He will die before he gets the chance. Have I not made it clear that, unless Dean receives the help our lovely, pretty, lovesick-“

Then the voice that wasn’t like Dean’s said a name, and the betterlust exploded inside him. He knew that name. He’d die and kill and cut himself to pieces for that name. He wanted it. He couldn’t have it. He needed it, more than he needs air or water or food or music. The betterlust demanded it, and was shredding apart his insides because he refused to take it, but was also lending him the strength to find it. To find Her. Dean needed to fucking find Her, or nothing would ever be good again-

His eyes fly open, and for a long movement everything is only a blinding blur of color. There’s noise around him—both voices shouting words that sound like they’re for him but he can’t understand—and Dean’s brain kicks into a vigilant, borderline feral function as he hauls himself up, something pushes him back down, and the betterlust grew feral.

“Rowena, grab the other arm-“

“I am not meant for brute labor, Samuel-“

“Are you fucking kidding me-“

Dean roars Her name clawing and grabbing at the air to try and go, try to get to Her, because he was going to fucking die, and the betterlust told him She could fix this, make this better, make Dean better-

“Oh for- Fine.” 

The voice not like Dean’s says something he can’t understand, his whole body tightens. Like a weight has been dropped on his chest, and ropes have been wrapped around his limbs, forcing him to collapse back onto the bed with a noise that might have been a whine.

“Dean.” Rowena appears in his vision, her face drawn in annoyance. “Blink twice if you understand me.”

Dean scowls, but blinked twice.

“Good. Are you going to try and kill us again?”

Dean glowers at Rowena, keeping his eyes wide open in a gesture of no, and she sighs.

“Good boy. I’ll let you up, but if you ever try and grab my hair again, I’ll make you regret having hands, aye?”

The tension vanishes from Dean’s body, and he sits up slowly, pinch the bridge of his nose to try and curb the pounding ache behind his eyes, taking deep, mechanical breathes to get some fucking control over his body. Over the betterlust. Over himself.

“Dean, are you feeling okay?“

Sam looks worried. He’s frowning and scanning over Dean with concern, like there will be wound on his skin they can patch up to fix this. 

But only one thing can fix this. And Dean still isn’t strong enough to not know where She is, not when all he can remember is dragging himself to Her room, and hearing her voice, and seeing her pretty face before it all went dark. 

Dean mutters Her name, his voice low and gruff, and Sam and Rowena freeze. “Where is she.”

“She’s eating.” Sam mutters, bracing his hands on his hips. “I told her to get some rest. You freaked her out, dude, she-“ Sam shakes his head, giving Dean a look he doesn’t understand, and doesn’t have the energy to try and decipher. “She was really shaken, when we got back. She needs-“

“She needs you.” Rowena interrupts Sam, and he shoots her a venomous glare. “You’re too much of a meat-headed dolt to see it, but that darling girl looked as if she’d been devastated over you.” 

“Rowena.” Sam hisses. “We agreed-“

“You agreed. I made no promises-“

Dean raises his hands—they both need to shut up, or his skin will fly off his body—and their argument stutters off.

“How bad is it.” He looks to Rowena, the moment alone an act of labor. “And don’t try to lie or sugarcoat it. How long I got.”

Rowena sighs. “If you insist on keeping your head up your own arse, a day. Maybe two.”

“But we’re going to try to reverse it.” Sam jumps in, his voice desperate. “And Rowena gave you something to keep you going-“

“But, as I told your brother,” Rowena’s words are harsh, and Dean appreciates it. This really isn’t the fucking time for dancing around anything. “It is a very temporary solution, and the reversal will take time you no longer have. There is an obvious fix to your little problem-“

Dean lets out a dry chuckled. “My problem? Last I checked, Rowena, you were the one who fucked this up-“

“I did not fuck anything up, you petulant man child-“

“Rowena-“

“No!” Rowena cuts off Sam with sharp words, holding Dean’s glare. “I did my job, Dean Winchester, but you are too much of an arrogant, brooding little cunt to do yours.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “Watch it, bitch-“

“I did not have to help you,” Rowena hisses. “But that poor, desperate, lovesick woman begged me to. You know exactly what you need, and you are too cruel and stupid to do it.”

Dean’s hands curl into fists on the sheets. “I said fucking watch it-“

“She’s right.” Sam mutters, and Dean’s gaze whips to him, his mouth falling open at Sam’s pitying, exhausted expression.

“I’m sorry, I must be going insane, because there’s no fucking way you just sided with Rowena-“

“I didn’t side with her.” Sam snaps, running a hand over his face as he shakes his head. “I’m just trying to get you to think for five seconds. I’m trying not to lose my brother because he can’t see what’s right in front of him-“

Dean scoffs. “There’s nothing in front of me, Sam. Rowena botched the spell, and now I can’t do anything but-“ He cuts himself off with a groan, a stab of pain twisting over his ribs, and Sam throws his hands in the air.

“For crying out loud, Dean, you’re dying because of this self-righteous, sacrificial bullshit you always pull! Rowena didn’t botch the spell, you’re just refusing to give the Mark what it wants, and until you do-“

“It doesn’t matter what I want!” Dean roars, slamming a hand down on the mattress. “Fuck, Sam, I’m not going to force myself onto her just because-“

“Because you think she’ll say no?” Sam rolls his eyes. “Dude, you can’t be stupid enough to really believe that-“

Dean scowls. They don’t fucking get it. Sam and Rowena don’t know Her like Dean does. They don’t understand that She would say yes, but she wouldn’t really want it, and Dean would stain and mark Her in a way that they’d never come back from. She’d never smile at him the same, and he’d have to die alone in the dirt when she finally got the memo that he wasn’t worth helping. When She left him, her soul more tainted than when she’d found him. When his poison sunk into Her skin, and she would still be so pretty and amazing, but ruined and marred from Dean’s touch. From how weak and pathetic and toxic he was. 

He couldn’t do that. He’d rather fucking die.

“Just drop it, Sammy.” Dean mutters, his gaze falling to that imprint of Her on the bed. Her bed. Dean was finally in Her bed, and he didn’t even get to enjoy it. “It’s not happening. And you’re not going to convince me, so either fix this, or let me die without goddamn yelling at me.”

There’s a moment of wired silence, Rowena silent in the corner of the room as Sam and Dean glare at each other, and Sam shakes his head like he can’t believe Dean’s nerve. Like Dean isn’t saving the only good thing they both have. Protecting the only person that’s stayed with them, that they both love, even if Dean’s love is made of undying, animalistic, grime and dirt covered devotion, and Sam’s is purer, softer affection that could never cut and scar Her like Dean’s. 

“She was crying.” Sam finally says, his tone colder than Dean’s heard it in a long time. “When we got back, she was sobbing, Dean. Have you ever seen her cry? Ever?”

He hasn’t. Dean has seen Her grit her teeth and bite back sounds of agony from injuries, seen Her scream and flail when they’ve lost people, and seen Her so angry it scared him a little, but he’s never seen Her cry. She didn’t cry. Her eyes got glossy, and her voice grew tight and choked, but she didn’t cry. Sam has to be lying, and he doesn’t look or sound like he is, but he has to be. She doesn’t cry, so why the hell would that be the truth? But why would Sam lie, and why has She stayed this long, and fuck, everything hurts and Dean’s too damn tired to figure out what the hell Sam is trying to tell him but the betterlust is scratching at his heart to know-

“Sam,” Dean swallows, watching his brother carefully. “I-“

There’s a knock at the door, and everything in Dean flies to the sound. It’s Her. Before Sam’s hand is even on the doorknob, Dean somehow knows it’s Her. Here. Maybe for him, maybe not, but the betterlust doesn’t seem to care because it’s Her-

She looks horrible. Still so fucking pretty, but horrible. There’s a slump to Her posture as she stands in the door—hair tangled and shirt wrinkled—and Her gorgeous face is slightly puffed. Her lips pouting. Her eyes lined with red. 

Like She’s been crying. 

Sam says Her name in question, and when She speaks her voice is hoarse.

“Look, I know you to told me to rest, but-“ Her mouth falls open as her eyes land on Dean, and Her sharp inhale feels like it shoots adrenaline right into his blood. 

He tries to offer Her a winning, I’d be happy to see me too smile, but it doesn’t feel right on his face. It feels too vulnerable, where it’s always been like a shield. It feels like it’s a lie, or trick, or act of cruelty when Dean’s rarely met a woman who doesn’t flush and giggle under that attention. It’s supposed to make him feel good from their happy, hopeful eyes. It’s supposed to make them feel good from Dean’s well-crafted, carefully wielded charm.

But right now he still just feels like shit. Bottom of the gutter, horrible, flea-ridden and matted shit. A fucking piece of shit that might have made Her cry, and isn’t even smart enough to know why.

He tries again, making the smile wider, adding his most casual drawl. “Hey, Sweetheart-“

She makes a strangled sound—loud and pained, making the betterlust start to snap at Dean’s brittle spine—and all but runs to the bed, almost falling to Dean’s side as Her hands begin to grab at his face and run over his skin. Angling him for Her to examine with frantic eyes and words, igniting little paths of insatiable fire wherever She touches.

“Are you okay?!” She turns his head to the side, her fingers tracing his jaw and cheek like boils or scars might have just appeared. “Your fever is gone,” the back of Her hand presses to his brow, flipping to touch it with Her palm. “But shit, you’re covered in sweat-“ Her glare whips around to Sam, Her grip still tight on Dean’s face. He doesn’t really mind. The betterlust is still trying to climb out of his throat, but he can fight it—for Her—and this can be enough. It’s all he’ll get before he’s gone anyway. Her touch, and loud almost furious shout at Sam. “Why didn’t you change the sheets like I told you to-“

“He was dead weight,” Sam says Her name, his voice a hell of a lot kinder than when he’d been talking to Dean. “And you also told us to make sure he got some rest. Rowena said the fever broke, and he’s lucid again-“

“But this is gross Sam, and you could’ve moved him if you tried-“

“Moved him where? He started freaking whimpering when we took away your comforter-“ 

Dean scowls. “Can you guys stop talkin’ about me like I’m not right fucking here-“

Her gaze turns back to Dean, the odd, aggressively mind-numbing panic and care returning to her eyes as she begins to examine him once more. 

“You seem better, but you’re redder than you should be, and, shit, was that scar always there-“

Her finger’s trial over Dean’s chin, dangerously close to his mouth, and he has to bite down a groan as he says Her name. “That’s been there at least a decade-“

“What about this one-“

“Three years, you were there when I got it-“

“Fuck, you’re right.” She shakes her head, Her eyes suddenly boaring into Dean’s and settling warmth in his gut. “Well, are you feeling okay? Does anything hurt, or feel sick, or feel numb-“

“Sweetheart.” He catches Her hand, and she falls silent with wide eyes. “I’m-“

“And,” She moves his gaze onto Her’s, and fuck She’s always so pretty. Even when She’s pissed at him. Especially when She’s pissed at him. “Don’t you dare fucking lie to me, Winchester, I’ll stab you-“

He chuckles, and it’s dry and low, but maybe the realest sound he’s made since he woke up. “I don’t doubt that, Sweetheart.” He drawls, and she lets his guide Her hands away from his face. “But I promise, I’m feelin’ better.”

She nods slowly, and Dean pretends he can’t see Sam’s eye roll in the background.

“Oh. Okay.” She turns at Sam and Rowena, her voice slightly unsteady and weak. “Have you, um, have you both been in here? The whole time I was eating?”

Sam nods. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” She swallows, and Dean notices Her body go slightly rigid. Sam must notice too, because he tilts his head and frowns at her.

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, it’s just…” She trails off, staring at her nails as her voice drop to a mumble. “There’s a lot of people in here. Makes me nervous.”

“Shit, sorry.” Sam says Her name, his voice apologetic. “Didn’t know that. We can go, if you want.”

There’s a long moment where She’s just staring at Sam, Her mouth slightly open, and her body curled in on itself like she’d been punched. Sam repeats Her name, his voice cautious, and when She snaps out of it, her voice is still soft and anxious. 

“That would be good.” She whispers. “Thank you.”

Sam nods. “No problem. Me and Rowena,” he shoots the witch a glare, and she rolls her eyes. “Are gonna go try to fix this. Text me if you need anything, either of you.”

She hums an acknowledgment, Her attention never leaving Dean as Sam and Rowena close the door, and Dean’s whole existence begins to curve into only the feeling of Her as her fingers trace over the back of his hand. 

After a long moment of silence—only the sound of Dean’s heart in his ears and the shifting of blankets under their bodies—she swallows, her voice barely a breath. “They can’t fix it, can they.”

He blinks at Her. “They’re gonna get it-“

“Don’t lie to me, Dean.” She gives him a soft smile that makes her look like she’s already grieving, and something in him lights up and withers away in the same second. “Please.”

He swallows. He is really tired of lying to Her. And he can say something closer to the truth and still hold his ground. He’s not quite that weak. Not yet.

“It’ll be close.” He grunts. “But I’ve survived worse. I just gotta pull through-“

“You don’t, though.” She whispers. “Rowena said you just have to-“

“Rowena can eat me.” Dean mutters, glaring at the door. “I’m not doin’ whatever the hell the Mark tells me to, that was the fucking point of this.”

“The point was to help you, Dean.” She sounds so freaking sad, and it’s pulling Dean apart. His will and mind all being reduced to Her. Too good and pretty to be sad. And it’s just Dean. She shouldn’t be this sad over only Dean.

“Sweetheart-“

“I don’t,” She swallows, speaking over Dean with quiet, soft words. “I don’t know why you’re being such an ass, Dean. Why can’t you just do what the betterlust wants? Isn’t it what you want-“

“It is.” Dean has to push the words through his teeth, because She so close and it’s not close enough and everything fucking hurts. “But I can’t have it, so we’re dead in the water. But Sammy and Rowena-“

“Dean.”

He can’t look Her in the eyes. Her voice is so gentle and nervous, and he’s not strong enough to look Her in the eyes and see all that worry and pity in them. He can barely even grunt an acknowledgment for her to continue.

“What do you want?”

“I’m not gonna-“

“Is it me?” She whispers, and Dean’s eyes shoot to Her’s. He can’t breathe. He can’t do anything but stare at Her and try not to die as he realizes this is it. This is how he loses Her. Forever. This is the last time he gets to look at Her and bask in her beauty and kindness, the last time he gets to drown in the smell of cherries and feel a little more alive under Her touch.

But She doesn’t look afraid, or disgusted. She just looks urgent. Desperate. As confused and hopelessly hopeful as Dean feels.

And he can’t speak, or think, or do anything but stare at Her as she speaks again.

“Dean, do you,” She takes a shaking breath, and Dean needs to touch Her. “Do you love me?”

——————

He’s not saying anything. Dean’s looking at you like you’ve shot him right through his heart, ripped it out, and taken a bite. Gaping like he’s trying to ask you for it back but can’t find the breath to, blinking like he’s trying to test if you’re really there. He reaches a hand up to run over his own face, reaches out to touch you—trace broad, calloused fingers over your cheekbones and jaw, over your chin like he’s wiping something you can’t see away—and jerks back suddenly, like you’d hurt him. Burned him. Branded him.

He’s branded you. You’re never going to forget his voice in your head, sounding like he’s overdosed on something awful, and doesn’t think he’ll come back down. Like he’s trying to cleanse himself of something by whispering words that will either haunt you past the grave or feed you for the rest of your life. Your heart will never forget the way it stopped for only a second before kicking into a pace that was all too fast when Dean’s eyes closed, and your hands will always remember the cold fever of his skin.

“Dean.” You have to make your voice strong. Steady, like you’re demanding something from him and not praying to him. “Please-“

“Why-“ His voice is hoarse, almost strangled, and it makes your every muscle feel a little weaker. “Why would you ask that.”

“I’m, I can’t tell you, just please answer me-“

“Did Sam tell you-“

“Sam?” You frown, shaking your head slightly. “No, I just, this has nothing to do with Sam-“

“Then why the hell are you-“

“What would Sam have told me?”

Dean falls silent, opening and closing his mouth as he goes red, his eyes looking almost feral. He looks like a cornered animal, something starved and needy, unsure if it should bite the hand reaching for it or grab it and never let go. 

You want to hold him and never let go. You want him to grab your hand, and hold it, and never think to drop it again. You want to hear him say those words again, and have his voice be certain. You want to touch him, no matter if he’s like this or breaking or furious or—in those rare, priceless moments—happy. And you need to know. Dean’s never owed you anything, and he never will, but if there’s only one thing that he can offer you in universe, it would be really nice if it was this. If Dean ever gives you anything, please, dear God, let it be this. 

“Dean,” you whisper, moving your hand to his knee and holding his almost fearful, rabid gaze. “Please answer me. Tell me what Sam-“

“He,” Dean swallows, voice gruff. “He wasn’t supposed to say anything. He fucking swore he’d never-“

“He didn’t.” You repeat, unsure if he’s even understanding the words out of your mouth. “All I’ve talked to Sam about is the spell. But why-“

“Rowena.” He mutters, and it sounds like he’s mostly talking to himself. “Rowena must’ve open her bitch mouth-“

“I haven’t really talked to Rowena at all-“

“Must’ve been some fucking spell-“

“Dean!” You scream, your nails digging into his leg like you can hold him with you forever. “It was you! You told me you loved me! You had a fever and you told me you loved me, you said my name, and I just,” Your voice cracks, desperation starting to break through your blood, out of your mouth in spit. “I need to know, please, you need to tell me if you meant it-“

“Sweetheart-“

“Please.” You refuse to look him in the eyes. The moment you look in Dean’s deep, pretty eyes you’ll know what he’s thinking, and you’ll lose him forever. Everything in you is screaming to know, but you’re still not able to just look into Dean’s eyes. “Dean, please tell me.”

“Why.”

For a second you’re not sure if you heard him right. The question startles you enough to make you look up, and the moment you see him something snaps inside of you. He looks wounded. Nervous. Almost as afraid of you—of your words, and what they might be capable of doing to him if you use them wrong—as you are of him.

“Why would you need to know.” He rasps, staring at his own hands. Flexing in his lap, seemingly against his will. “You’re not- It’s not somethin’ you’re-“ He looks up to you, his eyes almost pleading. “Why would you give a shit about-“

“About you?”

Dean’s throat bobs, his nod short, and you summon more bravery than you’ve ever been capable of before. Enough to reach out, over the space between your bodies that so small—but still feels like miles—and place your hand on his cheek. Keeping his gaze on yours.

“I always care about you. I-” You take a shaking breath, the last words falling off your tongue. “I love you.”

Dean’s hand shoots up to cover yours. To hold you against him, with a grip that tells you he might be trying to sear his skin into yours. 

“You-“ His voice is so soft. His hand over yours is like iron, but everything else about him seems to be dreamlike. Hazy and uncertain, both of you watching each other like you’re sure the other will vanish if you look away. “You love me?”

“Yeah,” you try to smile at him, and it’s not charismatic. It’s pleading and tragic and so fucking delicate. “I do. I mean, I have. For a while.”

“How-“

“Four years.“

He blinks at you. “No, I, I meant-“ He swallows, shaking his head. “I meant how. How did that happen.”

It’s your turn to frown at him. “How did that happen?”

“You shouldn’t love me.” He mutters, his hand over yours flexing. Like he’s trying to pull it away but doesn’t know how. “It’ll get you hurt.”

You raise your brows slightly, running your thumb over his cheek. “Are you going to hurt me?”

Dean’s eyes narrow. “That’s not what I-“

“Are you?”

“Of course not, I’d never-“

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter why-“

“It does.” You whisper, folding your legs under you to rise on your knees, dropping your brow to his. Holding his gaze the whole time. “It matters to me, Dean.“

He makes a choked sound, but doesn’t move away. “Why?”

“Because I love you.” You whisper. “And it would be really cool if you loved me.”

Dean’s only staring at you, his eyes flicking between your own, slightly blurred gaze that can still see him so well, and your lips. 

“And it happened,” you push on, your voice growing a little weak when he still doesn’t respond. “Because it’s really easy to love you, Dean Winchester. You’re a good man.” You offer him a smile, and his own mouth falls open just a little. “And even if you don’t love me, I wouldn’t have you any other-“

Something in Dean’s eyes flickers, and he moves before you’re sure what’s happening. Yanking you into his lap with his hand—fingers now tangled in yours—catching you with an arm around your waist, and kissing you. 

Kissing you. Dean’s kissing you. 

Your body sparks into action—even as your brain becomes fogged with a hazy, Dean-shaped lust—and you fist a hand into his shirt, pulling him as close as the world will allow. He’s holding you so carefully, leaning down in a slight dip, and there could be a storm raging around you instead of the soft, romantic rain this feels like it belongs to, but you wouldn’t know. Because this is a kiss people wage wars over. 

It’s louder than music in your ears and electric in your blood, but sparks isn’t a strong enough word. It’s like lightning. Shooting through your spine and lighting up every nerve in your body to Dean. Soft lips molding perfectly into yours, warm and calloused hands skillfully mapping over your skin, a groan down your throat that you can feel settle in your lower gut and start a wildfire.  You’ve been hungry and you’ve never dared to eat, but Dean is here now and you’ll either be starved for the rest of your life or never want for anything again.

When Dean tries to pull away, you just follow him. Chase after his lips with yours, trying to get just a little more before this all comes tumbling down. Before the thought can even dare to cross Dean’s mind—that he’s not good for you, and he should go—because this is all you’ve ever wanted and you’ll be damned if you don’t cling to it for as long as he’ll allow. You’ll fall all the way down, until your body is only supported by Dean below you, and you’ll forsake oxygen until your body demands it. Maybe a little while after, too. 

And Dean doesn’t seem to care to let you go. Every time he tries to pull back it’s a jerked movement, and every time you collide again he grows more and more feral. His groans turn into deep, animalistic growls, and his touch on your skin becomes rough. Not painful, never painful, but urgent. Uncontrolled. Pulling at your skin like he’s trying to meld it into his, kissing you with bruising force, bucking up into you with his hard cock brushing your inner thighs. 

You grind down onto him once—when he hits closer to where you’re beginning to ache for him, and your own need grows stronger than you’re desire to let Dean control this—and he bites you. Dean catches your lip between his teeth, sucks in into his mouth, and grins like he’s won a prize when you whine a plea of his name.

“Holy shit,” he mutters your name, pressing his brow to yours as you both catch your breath, grabbing your waist to stop the next roll of your hips. “I’m not- I can’t do this to you-“

“You’re not doing anything to me,” you whisper. “I love you. I want this.”

Dean catches your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles and staring at the movement, his voice so low you almost don’t hear it. “Say you’re lying.”

You blink at him, and shake your head. “No.”

His eyes flash, shooting back to yours as he grunts your name. “You need to say you’re lyin’ right now, or I’ll-“

“You’ll what?” You lower your face back down, until you’re sharing Dean’s every breath. “Fuck me? Actually say you want me?”

His throat bobs, voice rough with lust. “You, I can’t fucking control it, sweetheart, if you’re fuckin’ with me you need to take it back now-“

“Dean.” You grab his face between your hand, forcing his darkened gaze back to yours. “Answer my fucking question.”

He shakes his head weakly. “You don’t-“

“I love you.” You hiss. You need to make sure he feels it, in the slightly spit on his face, that still tastes a little like him because it’s pushed through lips that are swollen from Dean, and Dean alone. You glide a hand down his chest, the kiss apparently fueling something bold inside you that hadn’t been there before. Your fingers trace down, over his abdomen—hardened from work but still soft in all the best places—and Dean takes in a sharp breath, his hands on your hips tightening enough to leave a mark, and you lean back. Just enough to open space between your bodies, just enough for you to palm him through his sweatpants.

He’s huge, and twitching under your careful, light fingers, and God, you need him inside of you in any fucking way—between your hands or filling your mouth or buried deep into your cunt—but Dean’s still just staring at you. His chest heaving, eyes so dark and wanting you might cum just from his attention, and nostrils flaring as you move your hand up, resting right over the hem of his pants. 

“I love you, Dean,” you whisper, the rush of confidence barreling down as you wait for him to do anything. “And you need to tell me now that you don’t love me, or-“ you take a long breath, dragging up the last bit of your nerve. “You need to say you love me, and do something about it.”

Something shatters in Dean’s gaze for the last time, and whatever war he’s been waging with himself reaches a brutal end as he surges back up, kissing you with all spit and bloody need. Like you’re the best thing he’s ever dared to have on his tongue, and he might be trying to chew off a bit of you to keep.

He won’t need to. He has you. He’s had you for a while, and when he leans back to watch you with glazed, hungry eyes, his words seal some deep, fragile part of you to him forever.

“I love you,” Dean grunts your name, scanning over your face like he’s afraid the words will yank you from his hands. They won’t. “I need you. I gotta have you, but I’m- I’m not in control of it right now-“

“I can take it.” You push your hand into Dean’s sweats, taking his cock in your hand. He groans, eyelids fluttering, and when you run your thumb over the head of him—pressing into the weeping slit and squeezing just so lightly—he hisses your name like a prayer. “Please, Dean. I want it. Please.” 

You pull down his pants with your free hand, taking his boxers with them, and start to slowly pump your hand up and down his impressive length. There will be bruising marks of Dean’s hands of your hips for a while, but you’ll survive. It’s worth it, to watch him unravel below you, to see Dean’s pretty eyes grow glazed with lust for you, feel his dick throb and hips jerk under your touch, hear his low growls and grunts as his jaw clenches and he doesn’t pull you away.

“God,” he moans your name, and you start to squirm above him, desperate for a bit of your own relief. “I wanna- Wanna taste you. Fuck you. Ruin you-“

“So do it,” you slip your other hand down—trusting Dean’s hold to keep you upright—and squeeze his balls. “You say you love me, Dean, but you haven’t proved it-“

The words do exactly what you’d wanted them to. Dean yanks your hand from around him, crashes his lips into yours with a fervor that might have been dangerous if it didn’t taste and sound and feel like Dean, and lets go. 

His every movement is rough and uncontrolled, because his tether over every bit of will that had seemed to keep him restrained is gone, and in its wake is only the Mark. All its lust and fury and hunger, primal and focused on you. On taking what it wants.

And you’d give it to him, even if it left a few marks on your skin and bruising on your heart, but you realize that the Mark doesn’t seem to just want to use you. If it did, Dean wouldn’t be sucking on your neck and moaning at the taste of your skin, all while tracing big, warms hands around your body to palm your breasts. He wouldn’t allow you to grind onto him, or whimper his name, or scratch at his skin as he pulls you apart with barely anything at all. When he flips your over without any effort—only a low grunt and flex of his muscles—you feel like the most priceless bag of flour in the word. Perfect to be tossed around like that forever, but worth more to him—more the Mark—than just another body.

And you can’t see him anymore, but you don’t need to. You hear the sounds of him shuffling behind you, the muffled noise of his shirt being tossed onto the floor, and then his voice. Low and feral and saying your name in a way that makes your knees weak. 

“Up.” He grunts, and you whine when he angles your hips up and pulls down your shorts, you already wet cunt being hit by the cold air. “So fuckin’ pretty, gonna ruin you, baby. You’re never gonna even think about a cock that’s not mine again-“

You nod a little stupidly, wiggling your ass back into him and moaning when his still-clothed erection presses right into you. “Fuck, Dean, please-“

He spanks your pussy—just once the stinging pleasure shooing up your spine—and you bury your face in the sheets to stifles your desperate moan. 

“Need ya’ to listen.” He mutters. “You’re gonna have to talk to me, baby, lemme know what feels good, what you’re likin’, what you need more of-“

“You,” you gasp, and Dean chuckles, running a taunting finger between your folds. “God, I need you, Dean, need you so bad-“

“You need me?” He pushes the finger into your cunt, his body moving to covers yours as he whispers in your ear. “Need me to fuck this tight little pussy until you scream? Goddamn prove you how much I’ve wanted you, how much I’ve always wanted you-“

“Yes.” You nod frantically, grinding your ass up into him. “Show me, please show me-“

Dean moves your head to the side, capturing your lips in a long, slow kiss, and hums in satisfaction when he crooks that finger right up against that deep, sensitive spot inside of you, and your hands start to claw at the sheets.  

Then he’s gone. Without warning Dean draws back, yanks his finger out without warning, spanks your pussy again—chuckling at the high, needy sound that escapes your lips—and presses one hand to your lower back to still your writhing as he shuffles behind you

“Tell me whatcha want, baby.” He mutters, moving his hand to rub up and down your thigh. “And I’ll get it for ‘ya. But you have,“ He slaps your pussy one last time for emphasis, and you can only moan. “To say what you-“

“Your cock.” You whisper, spreading your legs wider for his to see. To look at your wet pussy—need dripping down to your knee—and take whatever the Mark is asking of him. “Want your cock Dean. Want you to fuck me, no holding back, please-“

He slams into you without warning. Burying himself at the hilt in one brutal movement, groaning above you as you go limp under him, trying only to twist and touch him, only to push back and somehow get him deeper. You feel so full, so fucking high on the stretch of Dean inside you, but it’s not enough-

“God, sweetheart, you feel so fucking good.” Dean starts to massage your ass, with one hand, the other holding you up in the air for him to use. “Better than I dreamed, feel like heaven, gonna fuck you so good like you deserve-“

“Dean, fuck-” you clench around him, the praise feeding right into your cockdrunk daze of Dean, and he groans. 

“Don’t do that,” he grunts your name, and it sounds like an order. “I ain’t gonna last if you-“ He moans as you squeeze around his massive cock again, and pulls all the way out before slamming back into you with a growl.

Your mouth falls open, a sound like a mewl escaping your mouth, and Dean starts to fuck you. Really, properly fuck you into the mattress, with low groans and an unforgiving pace, bumping your cervix and snaking a hand around your stomach to pull you up to his chest, rubbing your clit until you’re wrecked and seeing stars, thrusting up into you like a jackhammer and keeping you so blissfully pleasured and warm.

“So fuckin’ good,” he growls your name in your ear, and you squeak. “Takin’ this cock so fuckin’ well, all warm and tight, made for me. You were fuckin’ made for me-“

Dean’s thumb and fore finger roll your clit in a tight circle, and you cum with a scream. Light and color lining your vision, the far-off sound of Dean’s filthy praise making your orgasm ride out and out and out until you’re sure you’ve reached something like heaven. Your vision is still blurred when the satisfaction has washed fully through you, and you realize Dean’s stopped moving.

His hand tangles in your hair, angling your face back for him to see, and fuck he’s so handsome. Breathing heavy in your ear, lips puffed from sucking and kiss your skin, eyes glazed but still focused on you.

You must look like an idiot. Your expression is slack and needy, your eyes glazed a lips parted, but Dean looks at you like you’re a diamond and his cock twitches inside you as your eyes meet.

“Shit, baby,” he mutters. “You gotta say somethin’-“

“That-“ You let out another moan, your pussy still fluttering around him. “Good.”

He chuckles, kiss the very corner of your mouth with a smirk. “You got full words, Sweetheart?”

You swallow, the full feeling of Dean—throbbing inside you, still rock hard, pushing against that heavenly spot but with just too little pressure to send you over once more—crashing into you, and you say the only thing you can think of.

“Keep going?” 

He stares at you for a second, then shakes his head. “No, I- I’ll be fine, I can take care of myself-“

“Want you to use me.” You’re practically whining, and you’d be more embarrassed if the words didn’t make Dean jerk up into you. “Please-“

He groans your name, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder. “I’m not- you’re-“

“I said don’t hold back.” You whisper, rolling your hips against him and feeling pride glow in your chest at his moan. “Fuck me, Dean. I’m yours.”

And there it is again. You say the exact right thing, the thing you knew would work, and Dean gives in. He shoves you down, flips you onto your back—pulling out for only a second as he adjusts you under him—and starts to fuck you like an animal. Rutting into you at a near inhuman speed, hitting your cervix with every thrust, every word a low growl that coils release tighter and tighter in your lower gut. 

“So fuckin’ greedy,” he grunts, slamming a little rougher. “Wantin’ more, begging me to fuck you, so fucking pretty comin’ apart on my cock, tell me how good it feels, baby-“

“Good,” you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders as the bed creaks around you, your whole body overwhelmed with pleasure. “Feel so full, Dean, feels so good, you’re so fucking big-“

He groans, and you start to babble. You’re not even sure what you’re saying anymore, because every word feels like it’s spilling from your mouth. But every inch of your brain trapped in Dean’s skin slapping against yours, his muscles flexing around you, the low and primal sounds rumbling out of his chest as his movements grow sloppy and his cock starts to throb inside of you, and you couldn’t think about anything else if you tried.

“You feel so good, Dean, please don’t stop, want you to cum, I-“ You gasp as he starts to kill up your neck, your hands shooting into his hair. “Fuck, Dean, please, so good, God, I love you-“

His mouth slams into yours, and your orgasm rushes through you like a tidal wave. Longer and powerful, leaving you so fucked out you can only whine under Dean’s body, toes curling and eyes rolling back in your head as your pussy flutters around him.

Dean pulls out, keeping one hand gently on your knee as he pumps himself with an almost blurring fist, and cums over your abdomen and thighs. It’s hot and sticky, and part of you wishes you’d had enough of a brain to ask him to let you taste it, but you’re so completely spent that when Dean collapses over you—a heavy, comfortable weight you’re more than happy to be trapped beneath—your brain wipes every other thought but Dean away, and you decide to just stay here. Where Dean’s face in buried in your neck, and your sore from all of it but there will never be a better pain to experience.

“I-“ Dean breaks the silence, words muffled in your skin. “I feel better.”

“Oh.” You huff a soft laugh. “Good.”

“What, uh, what should we tell Sammy?”

You tug on his hair, just enough to move his gaze back to yours. “That we had sex?”

“No,” Dean groans your name, a smile pulling at his lips. “About the Mark. But we should tell him that-“

You make a mock, dramatic gasp. “Dean Winchester, are you going to brag about sex to your brother-“

“It’s sex with you, Sweetheart.” He winks, rolling you both over and caging you comfortably against his chest. “And Sammy’ll be thrilled to hear it, he’s been on my ass for years-“

“Years?” You squeak. “How many years?”

He shrugs. “I dunno, all of them?”

“All of them?! What do you mean all of them-“

“I mean since I met you.” Dean starts to rub soothing circles on your back, his mouth curling in smug amusement. “Deep breathes, baby, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

You flush, still not really use to the baby thing. Or Dean’s hands on your skin, every touch lingering like an imprint that will never even try to fade. “Shut up-“

He shakes his head. “Nah. You love it.” A boyish, wide smile splits over his face. “You love me.”

You might die. You might explode into a million, tiny pieces of confetti and shimmering glass, because Dean looks so happy. There are no ghosts in his beautiful eyes, no loathing or dread stained over his perfect face. He’s happy, here, with you, and you’re not cruel enough to stop yourself from crawling up his chest and pressing a soft, sweet kiss to his lips.

“I do love you,” you mumble against him, straddling his torso as you push yourself up flat palms. “But I’m still gonna tell you to shut up.”

He chuckles, the sound rolling and humming right into your blood. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Dean reaches up to tuck a little hair behind your ears, and freezes, his eyes trained on his forearm. On the Mark.

“We, uh,” he clears his throat, watching you carefully. “We do need to figure out what we’re gonna do about this.”

“Yeah.” You sigh. “We do. But I, I think-“

You cut yourself off, taking his hand in yours and running light fingers over the Mark in thought. Dean stares up at you with a slight awe in his gaze that makes you feel almost important, and your words fall to a soft breath.

“If you want.” You whisper. “We can turn it back-“

“No.” He shakes his head, sounding almost panicked. “I’m not goin’ back to that shit, not now-“

“Dean.” Your fingers still on his arm. “Was it me? That the Mark wanted?”

He swallows, but nods, and you sigh.

“We’re going to have separate sometimes. And we can figure out the bloodlust-“

“We should have to figure it out though, you don’t gotta put up with that-“

“I know.” You smile at him, and it’s not hard. Smiling at Dean is never hard. “But I will.”

“Do you-“ He stares at you, tangling his fingers in yours. “Do you not want me to keep the betterlust? You can tell me, I don’t want you to feel like you have to, for me-“

“God, no.” You shake your head, squeezing his hand. “I’m just, I’m worried about what might happen when the betterlust decides I’m not enough. Or when this, um, when you-“

Dean says your name, slow and firm, and you swallow. “This is it for me. It’s you, and the Mark knows that. You’re gonna be more than enough, hell, you’re more than I deserve-“

“That’s not true.” You mumble. “You deserve the world.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. “It’s adorable that you really believe that, baby, but-“

You scowl at him. “It’s the truth, Dean. You’re a good man, I meant what I said-“

“I know you did.” His charming, cowboy grins falters slightly. Not falling, but twisting into one you’ve never seen before. Still roguish, still well designed and stealing your breath, but with a slight crack that allows you to see deeper. To see the lonely part of him, that really thinks you don’t belong here with him. That’s trying to drag you into him, because he’s certain you’ll start running if he doesn’t. “But this,” he nods to the Mark. “Is still gonna be a problem. I’m still gonna be a problem-“

“You’re not a problem-“

He says your name, the word careful and tender and holy from his lips. It’s the best way you’ve ever heard it. The only way you want to hear it again. “Do you want me to keep the betterlust.”

You purse your lips, and nod.

“Words, baby-“

“Yes.” You whisper. “But I need you to promise me that if it stops working-“

“It won’t.” He shrugs, his voice flat, as if he’s speaking in fact. “And we’re gonna keep looking for a way to get this son of a bitch off. But we’re doin’ it together.” He pauses, scanning over your open features. “If that’s what you-“

You lean down, silencing him with a long, easy kiss. It’s not desperate anymore, but careful. Like you’re making art, or starting to spin a web that could unravel with a single tug, but neither of you will let it. You’ll never let this—whatever this becomes—fall apart. You’ll put your whole life into keeping Dean, fighting for him and helping him and reminding him that he’s not really a burden. Letting him remind you that he really does want you, and he’s never going to allow you to doubt that again.

“Together.” You speak against his lips, letting your content breath fall into his mouth. “I’d like to stay together.”

He nods, mouth curving into a grin. “Alright then. Together.”

End Note: Thank you so so much for reading!!! I've had a lot of fun with this one, and I'm so happy y'all have as well! I hope to see some of you soon for the next one, and if not, thank you. no matter what!!

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@tcedenslash

[somethingvicked]

Keep me warm

Eddie Munson one-shot.

warnings: female reader, smut, no use of Y/N, pet names; sweetheart, baby, etc.

You and Eddie had spent the day at Lover’s Lake. Eddie refused to go to the lake on the sunny days because practically all of Hawkins were there and he didn’t want them all to scream and stare at him.

So today, when it had been cloudy, you had all but put your foot down and forced him to come with you.

”Come on, Eddie! One day in the whole summer we just got to be at the lake, take a dip and have fun!” you had whined and he had given in.

He always gave in when it came to you, couldn’t deny you anything.

Except himself.

It was your biggest secret, how in love you were with Eddie Munson. Always had been.

Ever since the day you and he got paired up in English class for a project and you offered to help him out, so he would pass the class at the end of term.

That was three years ago and Eddie was none the wiser about your feelings for him. You were his friend and he loved you, you knew that. But he wasn’t in love with you.

You two had happily tossed your clothes to the ground (wearing swimclothes underneath) and dove into the lake, playing around, swim racing and dunking each other for a good while, without noticing that the sky had gotten darker.

When there was a loud rumble above you, Eddie pushed his wet hair out of his face and looked up, his eyes widening. ”Shit! We need to get out of here,” he told you, pulling your arm as the both of you all but fought against the water’s density as you ran up to the beach.

And that’s when the sky all but opened itself. You were still in the water below the waist but with the force of the rain you didn’t really notice the difference, you were both drenched within seconds, and you could see how your towels and clothes were too, at the beach.

”Just grab them, we’ll drive back to my place and change, you can borrow something from me,” Eddie said.

You weren’t sure how you felt about going commando underneath Eddie’s clothing since your underwear would be wet but nodded nevertheless, as the both of you grabbed the two piles, running through the pouring rain toward his van that stood at the edge of the forest path leading to the lake.

You were both soaked, as if you had never gotten out of the water, when you reached the van. Water wasn’t dripping from you, it was running down your bodies in small rivlets, droplets big as pennies flying off your hair when you moved.

Finally Eddie unlocked the driver’s side door and leaned over to unlock the passenger one so you could climb in. You shivered, dropping your clothes on the floor by the seat and went to buckle yourself up.

Eddie turned the the key to the engine.

Nothing.

”What?” Eddie muttered and tried again, but the van didn’t start. He tried two more times before admitting defeat.

”The battery must be dead,” he concluded. ”But why?”

”Did you turn the lights off before we went to the lake?” you wondered and his eyes widened.

”Shit! I... no, I don’t think I did.”

You sighed. That was typically Eddie, and normally you would find it endearing, but now you were stuck in the forest, soaked in cold rainwater and with no clothes to change into.

You shivered and Eddie looked at you, clearly feeling bad. ”I’m sorry,” he said, reaching over to rub your arm. It didn’t help much against the cold.

”It’s okay,” you said, ”these things just happens sometimes, it’s not like you did it on purpose.”

It was quiet for a moment as you listened to the thunder and the constant sound of the rain splashing onto the roof of the van.

 You had pulled your knees to your chest, trying to stay warm, but your wet bikini didn’t help. Eddie didn’t seem to fair much better. You could see the hairs on his arms standing up, his pale skin looking more blue than white. Suddenly Eddie snapped his fingers. ”I have an idea. But... it... I don’t want you to take it the wrong way,” he said, a blush covering his face.

You raised an eyebrow. ”What kind of idea?” you asked him curiously.

”Well... we’re both freezing, right? And we don’t know how long this rain storm will go on. I... I have a mattress back there, and a blanket. It’s mostly for when I... when I conduct business out of town, because no way I can afford a motel,” Eddie admitted with an embarrassed chuckle. ”Why don’t we climb back there and try to get warm.”

That was a good plan in theory. But your bathing suits, heavy with water, would still chill you down and you told him so.

His blushed deepened. ”That’s what I meant about you taking it the wrong way. That we... we take them off. Body heat.”

Your mouth fell open and you just looked at him, your brain going blank.

Eddie wanted... he wanted to...

”I mean, I will of course look away, and we’ll be under the blanket the whole time, I just don’t want you getting sick,” Eddie rambled, looking  like he was about to panic. That made you laugh.

”No, it’s... it’s okay, Ed. Let’s try.”

You climbed to the back and Eddie got the blanket out. You slide beneath it and then pulled your bikini bottoms off and then the bikini top, tossing them to a corner of the van.

You closed your eyes as you heard Eddie shuffle with his own swim shorts. Then you almost jerked when you felt something crawl in beside you.

”I think it’s best if you turn on your side,” Eddie whispered and you nodded, turning so your back was to him, and he wrapped his arm around your middle, taking care not to land even an inch above or below. He had also shuffled his hips backwards so his pelvis wasn’t even touching you and deep inside you thought that this was probably not the correct way to create body heat. You two were only lucky it was in the summer and it was just the rain that had chilled you down, not snow or ice.

It did work though. Soon enough you started to feel warm enough that you could ease out from your fetal position and relax. Eddie seemed to do so too, he wasn’t as tense anymore.

The arm you were lying on had gone numb though, so you shifted a little to get the blood flowing and heard a sharp inhale from Eddie.

”Don’t... don’t do that,” he said, sounding as if he was in pain.

”Do what?” you wondered, turning your head to look at him. ”I was just...” as you shifted again, you felt it.

Your bare ass came into contact with Eddie’s crotch and... he was hard. Rock hard.

Your eyes widened. ”Eds?” you whispered.

Eddie swallowed and closed his eyes. ”I’m sorry!” he whimpered, ”I’m so sorry. It... it’s just...!”

You couldn’t help it, you started to giggle.

”This is not funny,” Eddie exclaimed, his voice mopey like a child.

You felt it again, and the size of his cock made you gasp, warmth pooling inside your pussy.

You would probably hate yourself for this later, but you couldn’t resist anymore. You turned around, sliding as close to Eddie as you could, raising a leg so that it rested over his hip.

Eddie gasped, looking at you in shock, his dark eyes even darker from arousal.

”Can... can I...?” he started but you didn’t wait for him to finish, you took the hand that now rested on your hip and brought it down to your sex, making him close his eyes in bliss as he gently parted your folds, stroking you.

You pulled the blanket up a little so you could get a good look at his cock. It was beautiful. Big, uncut – apparently his parents had never bothered with getting him circumcised – and slightly curved.You wanted that inside you.

Eddie opened his eyes and met your gaze. This time he didn’t ask, he pulled you into him and kissed you.

You whimpered as he rolled you beneath him, bringing both of your legs around his hips. His cock was rubbing against your wetness, and it made you ache with want.

”Need you, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered into your ear, sucking on your earlobe and down your neck, teeth scraping against the skin. ”Wanted you... so long...”

He had wanted you?

You didn’t get an opportunity to think about that because Eddie’s free hand took a hold of your chin, making you look at him.

”Do you want me, sweetheart?”

You nodded.

”If you don’t, tell me now.”

You shook your head. ”I want you, Eddie! Please!”

”You got it,” he whispered and then started to kiss his way down your body, tossing the blanket that had covered the both of you earlier, impatiently to the side.

”Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he breathed, licking the curve of your breast, up to your pebbled nipple. That made you whine, arching your chest against him.

He switched to your other breast, rubbing his own saliva over the nipple he had just left. You moaned and whimpered, arching against him. What he did felt wonderful but your pussy was absolutely dripping, aching for something, any kind of friction.

”Please, Eds...”

”Please what?” he wondered, blowing cold air over the other nipple, now wet from his mouth.

”I need... need you to touch me!”

”Baby, I am touching you,” he teased you and you just wanted to bite him. But instead you took one of his hands and moved it to your sex, using his fingers to rub your own clit.

”There,” you moaned, ”I need you to touch me there...!”

Eddie’s eyes grew big as he watched you holding his fingers and put them against your clit, rubbing circles, bucking against them.

”Holy fuck,” he whispered, before batting your hand aside and moving down between your thighs.

”You don’t have to make me do it, baby. I’ll touch that sweet pussy whenever you want me to!”

For moment you were surprised by his teasing and dominance – it was so unusal from how Eddie usually was. Only a moment ago he had been so embarrassed about you feeling his hard on!

And now... now, he spread your legs and inspected your glistening pussy, as if it was nothing!

Then you felt his wet, fat tongue, licking a stripe up from your ass to your clit, making you cry out and dig your nails into the mattress your were lying on.

”Jesus H. Christ, you taste so good,” Eddie groaned, licking you again, flicking his tongue against your clit, putting his lips over it, sucking, humming.

”Eddie... Eds... that... that...!”

”Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me how good it feels having my eat this delicious pussy!”

”Feels so good...!” you sobbed as he started to push a finger in and out, crooking it, making your eyes roll back into your head as he hit that sweet spot inside you.

”You like that? Or do you want more?”

”I... I want to... taste you too,” you stuttered out, your hand jerking out and grabbing on to his cock. Eddie made a choking sound deep in his throat, but he grabbed your hand, kind of how you had with his, and shook his head.

”Another time, sweetheart. If you put that sweet mouth on me, I won’t last two second. I want to fuck you first. Need to be inside you! You want that?”

You nodded furiously and Eddie leaned in closer to you, almost looking desperate. ”Say I can fuck you, baby. Say you want me!”

”I want you, Eddie,” you whispered. ”I want you to fuck me!”

”Yes,” Eddie hissed, removing his finger from you, sliding his cock against your folds, your wetness covering him as he finally slipped inside you, both of you letting out a loud moan when he bottomed out inside you.

You felt like he was in your throat, but it felt so good, so right... your cunt was screaming for him to move, to hit all the spots inside...

”Move, Eddie! Please, you promised to fuck me!”

Eddie growled – he actually growled at that – and pushed your legs up, so that your knees were practically by your ears, starting to thrust into you with vigor.

”Feels so fucking good... so tight... made to take my cock... ”

Apparently Eddie was just as talkative in bed as he was otherwise, it seemed he wasn’t even aware of what he was saying.

He held on to your legs, using them as leverage to pound into you. By now the van was shaking by the force of Eddie’s thrusts and your bucking to meet him, the windows had misted over and both of your bodies were shining with sweat.

Eddie released one of your legs and slid a hand down to play with your clit, making you scream.

”Eddie... I’m... I’m...”

”Cum for me, baby! I want to feel you cum!”

You sobbed through your orgasm, your arms tightening around his neck, nails digging into his skin as he kept pushing into you, just making it go on and on...

”Eddie...!”

”I’m close, sweetheart. Where... ”

”Inside! Inside me!”

”Are you sure...?”

”Birth control.”

”Fuck!”

Eddie thrust a few more times, one, two, three shallow thrusts before he groaned loudly, the veins in his neck standing out, as ropes of his warm cum painted your walls.

He let go of your legs but as you were afraid he would just get up and it would all be over, you wrapped them around his waist, clinging to him like a baby koala.

Eddie moved his bangs out of his eyes and looked down at you. ”God, you’re so beatiful,” he whispered.

You frowned. ”You... you think?”

”Of course I do. I’ve always thought so. That you were the most beautiful girl in the world. The most perfect girl in the world. I love you, sweetheart. Always have.”

Your eyes widened. ”What?”

”Yes. What, you thought... that this was just...?”

”I thought you just reacted because... well, we were naked.”

”No! Well, yes, a bit perhaps,” Eddie admitted, making you giggle. ”But... I’ve been in love with you forever. I was just... a coward. Afraid that if you didn’t feel the same it would ruin not just our friendship but the rest of the gang too.”

You supposed you could understand that. And you couldn’t exactly fault him, because you had been a chicken about admitting your feelings as well.

”I love you too, Eddie.”

Eddie hugged you tightly. Then he suddenly chuckled.

”What?” you wondered, smiling.

”It’s stopped raining.”

It was impossible to see anything out of the window but the tell-tale sounds of droplets landing on the roof of the van wasn’t there anymore so you guessed he was right.

”You want to try and walk back to the trailer park?” you wondered and Eddie shook his head.

”Nah, I’m good. I want to stay like this for a while. Besides, we don’t have any clothes to wear – we might end up in jail.”

You giggled. ”You’re right. But I don’t mind staying here either. I’ve got you to keep me warm.”

tagging: @quinnyficsy @melodymunson @jenniquinn @pandemoniusstuff @munson-blurbs

please, like, comment and reblog!

Your likes are wonderful but reblogs expand my reading circle.

[smartkookiee]

Wounds We Never Show // Prologue: Before It All —jjk.

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❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader (she/they, afab) ❥genre/rating: 18 + explicit content, enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers, these two really do hate each other ❥chapter warnings: Fighting (verbal), swearing, mutual hate ❥word-count: 2.4k ❥Series Masterlist ❥ || Next Chapter fic is cross posted to ao3 send an ask or comment on post to be added to the tag list

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Your final together was tomorrow, after a month of painfully hard work it would finally be over. Except you hadn’t heard from Jungkook  this week at all. From what you can tell he seemed to finish all of his portion of the work. You on the other hand, due to some finals, were a little behind but you had no doubts that you would be able to catch up. 

Not hearing from Jungkook did have you somewhat concerned. 

You both were normal last week but this week radio silence. You had texted him just keeping him updated on the progress of your work. You choked it up to him probably being swamped with his own work, and his own projects for other classes. So you tried not too worry. 

You sent one more text, anxiety rising with each passing minute.

:hey sorry to text you again. I’m just checking in! I should be able to finish in the next hour or two, so don’t worry.

:we are going to kill this presentation in the morning.

May have been a touch late to texting someone, it was 1:30 in the morning. You didn’t care though, he had texted you at like two in the morning before. So, you figured he’d forgive you.

But the second you sent the text.

The lights and your laptop had switched off. You sat in completely darkness. Suddenly the emergency lights shown by your door. You turned on your flashlight. Your laptop was old so your power being out means that you don’t have a laptop to work on. You made your way to the hall where some others had gathered. Asking what had happened.

Your RA eventually came up to your floor and told everyone not to worry, they were going to have the power on soon and to stay in our rooms for now. That we would get some text updates. You decided to not panic yet, soon after you did get a text saying that their was a an on campus outage and the problem would be resolved soon.

“Seriously?” you muttered, going back into your room. You texted Jungkook again.

:hey sorry I swear this is the last one, power in my dorm is out.

:and you know how my laptop is, so I have to wait until the power comes back.

:still going to kill it tomorrow!

Forty-five agonizing minutes later, the power finally returned. You rushed back to your laptop, praying everything was still there. But when you opened your document, it was blank. Completely empty.

“No,” you whispered, frantically searching for any backup.

Your entire month of work was gone. You tried finding a previous version, but there was nothing. Not on your hard drive, not in your email, not even a single backup copy. Every word, every citation, every carefully crafted paragraph—vanished. Except... Jungkook might have a copy.

You grabbed your phone and called him, your fingers trembling. Voicemail. You called again, and it rang once before going straight to voicemail again.

“Jungkook, pick up. Something happened. I need you to call me back.”

Panic set in as you scoured every corner of your computer. Desperate, you even checked old drafts and random notes on your phone, but there was nothing. Your heart sank. You called Jungkook two more times, but there was still no answer.

You were going to have to start over.

You knew the material—you’d been working on it every day for a month—but rewriting it from memory was going to be a nightmare. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, and started typing. Every minute felt like an hour, but you pushed through. Tiredness clawed at you, and your eyes stung from the screen’s glare, but there was no other option.

Five hours later, you finally finished. The paper was nowhere near perfect, but it was something. A B, maybe a C at best, but it was better than nothing. Exhaustion overtook you the second you hit save, and you collapsed into bed.

It felt like only a second had passed when your eyes snapped open. You scrambled for your phone, the panic setting in again.

10:05 AM.

Ten missed texts and three missed calls from Jungkook.

“No!” You leapt out of bed, pulling on the first clothes you found, emailing the paper to yourself while sprinting out the door. You raced across campus, nearly tripping as you weaved through students, your breath burning in your lungs. By the time you reached the classroom, the hallway was filled with students leaving.

You pushed through the door, your hair a mess, sweat dripping down your forehead.

“Shit, no, no, please.” You spotted your professor leaving and tried to push your way forward, only to be blocked by Jungkook.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” he sneered as you stumbled in, breathless and disheveled.

“Jungkook--” you began, but he cut you off.

“Where the hell have you been? Why weren’t you here?” His voice was icy, and he took a menacing step toward you, making you step back.

“I—I fell asleep!” You stammered, tears welling up. Your exhaustion was really hitting you, and you couldn’t hold them in, “Did you see my texts? My calls? My voicemails?”

“Texts and calls don’t mean shit if you’re not here!” he snapped. “You’re acting like you care, but you clearly don’t. You’ve been flaky this entire time.”

“Jungkook, that’s not fair—”

“Not fair?” he cut in, voice rising. “Maybe you did this on purpose! Maybe you’ve been plotting to screw me over!”

The accusation hit hard. “Are you seriously accusing me of sabotaging you? I’ve worked my ass off for this project!”

Jungkook’s eyes were cold. “And where were you when it mattered? You think your excuses are enough? Friends don’t disappear.”

The recent reconciliation between the both of you now dissolving on the ground between the both of you. You both had taken huge strides to become friends despite your resistance.

“Friends don’t accuse each other of being petty schemers!” you shot back, the anger surging. “I’ve been working all night to fix this, and you’re just throwing all my effort back in my face!”

“Maybe I’m tired of your games,” Jungkook retorted, his voice dripping with contempt. “Maybe David was right about you. Maybe he was right that this is something you do.”

David, your ex-boyfriend. Who had manipulated so many people into believing that you were crazy, when he had cheated on you multiple times. What hurt worse? Jungkook knew all of this, knew that David was an asshole. Knew that David was an awful person who lied every time he spoke.

Now he was throwing it in your face, what the hell was wrong with him?

The sting of his words was unbearable. “How dare you! I trusted you to be reasonable. You said you believed me when it came to what David said about me. How dare you throw that in my face! I came here ready to explain, ready to make things right. But you’re too busy being a jackass to listen.”

“I may be a jackass but at least I can be relied upon.” he said quietly, almost dismissively.

The words cut deeper than any knife. “You know what? I don’t need to defend myself to someone who’s already made up their mind. You’re not worth the effort, since you are so quick to blame others. You’re just like David after all.”

You turned away, feeling tears spill down your face. You walked away, not looking back. You had to save your grades, even if it meant cutting ties with Jungkook for good. Didn’t really matter, you two didn’t know each other that well anyways.

You found your professor, explained everything through your tears, and showed him the evidence. He listened, though his sympathy couldn’t override the rules. He allowed you to submit your rewritten paper but couldn’t let you do the presentation. He promised to grade fairly but couldn’t guarantee a good mark.

You received a D. It was lower than you hoped but enough to pass. Jungkook, however, failed, delaying his graduation.

You felt a grim satisfaction, but the bitterness lingered. The loss of the friendship gnawed at you, even if you hated him. You’d never see him again, and you were more than okay with that.

That was five years ago now.

The memory lingered as fresh and raw as ever. You had moved on, grown, and carved out a space where Jungkook’s existence didn’t matter. That was until you became friends with Melanie, who in every sense of the word was your best friend. Though, because fate is a funny thing, she fell in love with Namjoon. Namjoon’s closest friend was none other than Jungkook.

That relationship kept you and Jungkook in each other's lives for longer than either of you had cared for.

Forcing the two of you back into each other’s orbit. That also meant facing Jungkook repeatedly, each time resulting in fights so venomous you wondered how Melanie and Namjoon put up with it. So many clashes over so many years, so many attempts by mutual friends proved futile in bringing the both of you together. Eventually, everyone gave up and just made sure to never have the two of you in a room together.

Now with Namjoon and Melanie’s engagement, a wedding loomed around the corner.

You leaned against the kitchen counter, mind still reeling from the past. The fallout from that final class had changed everything. Every time you saw Jungkook since then, it was an instant—words turned to daggers, and every conversation became a battlefield. Neither of you ever backed down; pride kept you both locked in a bitter stalemate.

“Just a heads-up,” Melanie said, breaking you out of your thoughts. She hesitated, eyes flicking away as if bracing for impact. “I know how you two feel about each other, but he’s Namjoon’s best friend.”

You knew what was coming, but you still grimaced. “Don’t tell me.”

Melanie sighed. “Jungkook is his best man.”

You clenched your jaw, the anger bubbling up instantly. You had known this was inevitable, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. “Of course, he is.”

Melanie’s living room felt unusually tense, the soft glow of the evening sun doing little to warm the atmosphere. Melanie had always been the bridge between you and Jungkook—constantly trying to keep the peace, but it was becoming increasingly clear that this time was different. You couldn’t just show up, exchange a few biting remarks with Jungkook, and call it a day. This was her wedding. This was the culmination of everything she’d dreamed of, and she deserved your best effort.

Melanie took a deep breath, her stern expression softening just slightly. “I know it’s a big ask, and I wouldn’t push it if I didn’t have to. But Namjoon and Jungkook—they’ve been through so much together. He’s not just a friend to Namjoon; he’s like a brother. And I need you both to make this work.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of her words. Melanie was trying to keep the peace, but the sadness in her eyes was unmistakable. She had seen you and Jungkook tear each other down time and again. Seeing the tears you shed over the times he would hit the nail on the head, and say something that went too far. Held you back from starting a physical altercation with him.

Each encounter was more bitter than the last, and every argument chipped away at the thin veneer of civility you both clung to.

“I promise,” you said, your voice steady despite the resentment simmering underneath. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Melanie’s lips twitched into a small smile, but her eyes remained cautious. “Thank you. And I mean it, no half-hearted attempts. I need rainbows and kindness coming out of both of your asses.”

You laughed despite yourself, appreciating the way Melanie could still inject humor into even the most awkward of situations. “Got it. Rainbows and kindness. I’ll bring a whole damn unicorn if that’s what it takes.”

“Good, I don’t know what I would do if we had another new years situation.” Although it was years ago, that was probably the worst fight you and Jungkook had. The things that were said and the drink you dumped on him are very present in your mind. Made you laugh to yourself even but it definitely caused a bot of an issues in your group.

You shook your head, feeling a familiar pang of bitterness. “Yeah that was a really low moment for me. I think because of that things between us will never change. He’s still that same arrogant jerk who can’t own up to his mistakes. And I’m done pretending I care enough to fix anything.”

“People change,” she said softly, it was something she tried to convince you of many times. “But I get it. You don’t have to be friends—you just have to coexist.”

“That, I can do,” you said firmly. “I’m not going to let him ruin this for you.”

“Thank you,” Melanie said, squeezing your hand. “I’m so happy you accepted the role. I couldn’t imagine my wedding without you there.”

“For you? Anything,” you replied, your resolve hardening. You would hold onto your promise to Melanie, no matter how much Jungkook got under your skin. This wedding was about Namjoon and Melanie, not you and whatever animosity you harbored toward Jungkook.

The room lapsed into a comfortable silence, but your mind was racing, already plotting ways to avoid Jungkook’s inevitable provocations. You pictured the rehearsal dinner, the ceremony, the reception—any scenario where the two of you would be forced to interact. You would keep your distance, smile politely, and not engage. If Jungkook’s presence was like a storm cloud threatening to ruin the day, you would be calm. You owed Melanie that much.

“When the wedding rolls around, I’ll keep up appearances and be civil and kind,” you said, trying to reassure not just Melanie, but yourself. “Jungkook might be the spawn of Satan, but as long as I don’t speak to him directly, everything will go perfectly.”

No amount of promises could erase the deep-seated anger you felt every time you saw his face. This time, though, you would have to bury it, if only for a weekend. You would smile through gritted teeth, hold your tongue when he inevitably said something infuriating, and pretend you were above it all.

You had months to prep yourself though. Plenty of time to make sure that nothing Jungkook could do could piss you off.

Nothing that weekend will surprise you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭

❥ || Next Chapter

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[enemiestolovershoe]

nick folio smut pleaseee

Drummer's Desire

Nick Folio x bsf!reader

Summary: Y/N, the merch girl, and Nick Folio have always been close. On tour, their bond deepens as playful flirting turns into something more.

Words: 5.6k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it), fingering, orgasm, nicknames, friends to lovers, smoking, let me know if I forgot something

Disclaimer: While the characters in this story are inspired by real people, the events and interactions are purely fictional and not reflective of reality.

You didn’t plan on becoming a merch girl, let alone sticking around long enough to be considered a staple of the Bad Omens crew. It all started when you took the job as a favor for a friend. Their usual merch handler had bailed last minute, and they needed someone to cover for one show. You’d been a fan of the band but never expected to end up on tour with them.

One show turned into two, and before you knew it, you were stuffing your life into a suitcase and hopping on a bus with a group of guys who quickly became your second family. Over the years, you’d bonded with each member of the band, laughing at Noah’s sarcastic quips, staying up late playing video games with Jolly, and helping clean up after some of Ruffilo's wilder post-show antics.

But Folio? Folio was different.

From the moment you met him, the two of you clicked. Whether it was your shared sense of humor, the one or the other joint, his easygoing attitude, or how he always managed to lighten the mood, Folio became your best friend on the road. 

Matt, the band’s manager, never let you live it down, constantly teasing the two of you about how inseparable you were. You both brushed it off—because that’s what friends do.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

The sun was already baking the asphalt as you hauled the first of many boxes of merch from the van to the venue’s back entrance. You could feel the sweat trickling down the back of your neck, but the thought of another tour had your adrenaline pumping. The familiar smell of stale beer and faintly disinfected hallways greeted you as you stepped inside.

"Just another day living the dream," you muttered to yourself, setting the box down with a grunt.

“Need help, princess?”

The voice, smooth and teasing, sent a shiver down your spine despite the heat. You turned to find Nick Folio leaning casually against the doorframe, his signature smirk firmly in place. He wore his usual tour uniform—black jeans and a black shirt—and looked irritatingly unfazed by the work ahead.

“Princess?” you asked, arching an eyebrow, though you couldn’t fight the grin tugging at your lips.

“What? You don’t like it?” Folio pushed off the frame and strolled toward you. “Thought it suited you. All regal, in charge of your little merch kingdom.”

You rolled your eyes. “More like I’m the pack mule of your kingdom. But if you’re offering, your royal highness, I could use the help.”

“Thought you’d never ask.” He winked, stepping past you to grab a box. His cologne mixed with the stale air of the venue, and you pretended not to notice how good it smelled.

The two of you worked in tandem, grabbing boxes from the van and stacking them neatly inside the venue. Folio kept up a steady stream of commentary, half of it teasing, the other half genuinely amusing.

“So, what’s the over-under on Matt cracking a joke about us by the end of the day?” he asked, his voice light as he hefted another box onto his shoulder.

You groaned. “Oh, you know he’s already planning something. He’s probably got a list of new nicknames he’s ready to test out.”

“Hmm.” Folio grinned. “Let’s see... power couple? Dynamic duo? The will-they-won’t-they wonders of the merch table?”

You threw a crumpled piece of cardboard at him. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m carrying this box, aren’t I?” He raised an eyebrow as he set it down inside. “Besides, you secretly love the attention.”

“Do not!” you shot back, though your flushed cheeks probably betrayed you.

A loud voice boomed from across the venue. “Hey, lovebirds! Quit flirting and get a move on!”

Matt stood by the stage, clipboard in hand, grinning like he’d just caught you red-handed. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the embarrassed laugh that bubbled out.

“Flirting?” Folio called back. “We’re way past flirting, man. We’re at the full rom-com montage stage.”

You smacked his arm, but he only laughed.

Once the last box was inside, you plopped down on a nearby stool, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. Folio sat on the edge of the table, spinning a drumstick between his fingers like he always did when he was killing time.

“You know,” he said, his tone softer now, “it’s kinda nice, starting the tour like this. Feels... normal.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the sudden sincerity in his voice. “Yeah,” you admitted. “It’s always a little chaotic, but once we’re on the road, it’s home.”

“Exactly.” He nodded, his eyes meeting yours for a moment that felt longer than it should have.

Before you could overthink it, a voice called from the stage.

“Folio! Soundcheck!”

He sighed dramatically, hopping off the table. “Duty calls. Don’t miss me too much, princess.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile lingered long after he walked away.

You leaned against the counter, scanning the thinning crowd. The fans had been relentless for the past hour, snatching up shirts, hoodies, and posters like their lives depended on it. You loved their energy—it was infectious—but you were grateful for the lull. Charles, your ever-reliable co-worker, waved you off with a grin.

“Take a break, would ya? I’ve got this,” he said, gesturing to the mostly empty merch table.

“You sure?” you asked, already halfway out of your seat.

“Positive. Go do whatever it is you do when you’re not folding shirts.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. A break meant one thing—watching your favorite boys perform.

Weaving your way backstage, the familiar hum of the arena filled your ears. The opening act had wrapped up, and the crowd was buzzing with anticipation. You slipped past crew members and equipment until you found your spot at the side of the stage.

The lights dimmed, and the roar of the crowd was deafening. One by one, the band members took their places. Noah’s voice echoed through the arena as the band launched into “Concrete Jungle.” You couldn’t help but grin, the energy of the performance pulling you in.

It wasn’t long before Folio spotted you. He was mid-drumbeat when his eyes found yours, and even in the dim lighting, you could see the smirk spreading across his face. A few songs later, Jolly, Nicholas, and Noah caught sight of you. Each of them gave you a smile or a nod, their way of saying “Glad you’re here.”

As “Like a Villain” came to an end, Folio set his sticks down, stood up, and made his way toward you. You raised an eyebrow, folding your arms as he approached.

“What are you doing here?” he asked with a big smirk, his voice loud enough to carry over the residual cheers from the crowd.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you teased, smirking. “You’re supposed to be on stage.”

Folio held up a joint, the corner of his mouth curling into a mischievous grin. “Just went to get this. Wanna join?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “After the show, bad guy. I still have to sell your clothes when the show’s over.”

“Fair enough,” he said, chuckling.

“Now go back on stage before Matt gets mad at us again.”

“Fine, fine.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping slightly. “But don’t go anywhere. I want to see you after the set.”

“Go!” you urged, lightly pushing him back toward the stage.

He winked before turning back to his kit, and you shook your head, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face.

As Folio settled in and the band kicked off “Just Pretend,” you stayed in your corner, watching as they owned the stage. This wasn’t just a band to you—it was family. And moments like these reminded you why you loved being part of this chaotic, beautiful circus.

As the final chords of "Dethrone" rang out and the crowd’s cheers shook the arena, you knew it was your cue to head back to the merch stand. You waved at Folio as you turned to leave, catching the quick nod and grin he sent your way before he launched into the final encore.

By the time you reached the merch table, fans were already gathering, ready to grab their last-minute souvenirs. For the next hour and a half, it was non-stop chaos. Hoodies, shirts, posters, and CDs flew off the table as you and Charles scrambled to keep up. Your legs ached, and your throat was dry from shouting over the noise, but the fans’ excitement was contagious, keeping you going.

Finally, as the crowd thinned out and the arena began to empty, you leaned against the counter, letting out a sigh of relief.

“I’m officially dead,” you muttered to Charles, who nodded in agreement.

“Good thing we’re done,” he said, motioning toward the approaching group.

You looked up to see the band and Matt making their way toward you, still buzzing from the performance. Noah was the first to speak.

“Let us help so we can go back to the hotel,” he said, his voice firm but friendly.

You and Charles exchanged a look and nodded instantly. With the band’s help, the merch boxes were packed up and loaded into the vans in record time. Nicholas and Jolly cracked jokes the entire time, while Matt barked playful orders, pretending to be the bossier version of himself.

As you finished securing the last box, Folio sidled up to you, bumping your shoulder lightly. “You good, princess?” he asked, his voice softer than the usual teasing tone.

“Exhausted,” you admitted, stretching your arms.

“You worked hard tonight,” he said, his hand brushing yours briefly as he handed you your water bottle.

You gave him a small smile. “Thanks. You weren’t too bad up there yourself, rockstar.”

He smirked, leaning a little closer. “Just trying to impress the merch girl.”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks warmed.

The ride back to the hotel was filled with laughter and a collective sense of relief. Noah and Jolly argued about the setlist for the next show while Nicholas played a playlist of ‘90s throwbacks' that had everyone groaning and singing along in equal measure. Folio, however, stayed close to you, his shoulder brushing yours more often than usual as he made small comments that only you could hear.

You chalked up his extra touchiness to the joint he’d smoked earlier.

When the vans pulled up to the hotel, you gathered your things and headed toward the lobby, ready to collapse into your bed. But just as you reached the doors, you felt Folio’s hand wrap around yours, tugging you to the side.

“Where are you—” you began, but he cut you off with a smirk as he held up the remaining joint.

“Forgot already, huh?”

Your eyes widened, and you let out a laugh. “No—yeah, I’m sorry. I guess I got a little distracted.”

“Lucky for you, I’m a patient guy,” he said, his grin turning playful as he motioned for you to follow him.

The two of you found a quiet corner behind the hotel, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the heat and chaos of the evening. Folio lit the joint, taking a slow drag before passing it to you.

“Better now?” he asked, watching you as you exhaled.

“Much better,” you said with a chuckle, leaning against the wall beside him.

The shared silence was comfortable, punctuated by the distant hum of city noise and the occasional flicker of streetlights. You couldn’t help but glance at him, the soft glow of the joint casting shadows on his face, making his smirk look even more mischievous.

“You’re staring,” he said without looking at you.

“Am not,” you retorted, taking another drag to hide your embarrassment.

“Sure, princess,” he teased, his voice low. “Whatever you say.”

The cool night air was laced with the faint aroma of the joint, and by now, you could feel the haze settling over you. It made everything softer—your laughter, the buzz of distant cars, and especially Folio’s voice as he leaned against the wall next to you, his shoulder almost touching yours.

“You’re quiet,” he teased, exhaling a slow stream of smoke into the night. His eyes flicked to yours, glinting with mischief. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

“Pretty head?” you repeated, laughing softly. “Bold words coming from someone who calls me ‘princess’ every five minutes.”

“It suits you,” he said with a shrug, passing the joint back to you. His fingers brushed yours intentionally, lingering just long enough to make your heart skip. “I mean, you’ve got that whole ‘effortlessly cool’ thing going on. Own it.”

You rolled your eyes, but the compliment had you smiling. “Effortlessly cool? Says the guy who’s literally a rockstar.”

He tilted his head, smirking. “Okay, but you make folding t-shirts look like an art form. I’d trade the drum kit for that any day.”

“You’re full of it,” you said, taking a drag before handing the joint back.

“Maybe,” he admitted, leaning a little closer. “Or maybe I’m just saying what I’ve been thinking for a while now.”

The way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world worth paying attention to—sent a shiver down your spine. You blamed it on the weed, the atmosphere, anything but the way your chest fluttered under his gaze.

“You’ve been thinking about me?” you asked, your voice light but laced with curiosity.

“More than you’d believe,” he said, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “It’s hard not to when you’re always around, being all... you.”

“All me?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You know exactly what I mean. You’re smart, funny, and you keep all of us from falling apart on tour. Not to mention you’re... well, beautiful.”

The word hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

“Are you sure you’re not just high?” you joked, though your voice was quieter now.

“High enough to say it,” he replied, his tone dropping slightly, “but not high enough to mean it any less.”

The boldness of his words caught you off guard, and before you could respond, he reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered against your cheek, and your breath hitched.

“Folio...” you began, but your voice trailed off when his eyes flicked to your lips.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, leaning in closer. “And I will.”

You didn’t.

His lips met yours softly at first, like he was testing the waters. Your eyes fluttered shut, and for a split second, the world around you disappeared. When the initial shock wore off, you kissed him back, your fingers gripping the front of his hoodie as the kiss deepened.

It wasn’t gentle anymore. It was heated, almost desperate, and you didn’t realize how much you’d wanted this until it was happening. Folio’s hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a hunger that matched your own.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, his forehead rested against yours.

“Wanna continue in my room?” he asked, his voice low and rough, sending a thrill through you.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding as you looked into his eyes.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Folio’s smirk widened into a grin that made your knees feel weak. “Let’s go then,” he said, taking your hand in his. His touch was warm and steady, grounding you despite the butterflies swarming in your chest.

The two of you walked back into the hotel lobby, the quiet hum of the night contrasting sharply with the storm of emotions building between you. You avoided the curious glances from a few straggling crew members, focusing instead on the warmth of Folio’s hand as it wrapped securely around yours.

When you stepped into the elevator, the tension in the small space was palpable. The doors had barely closed before Folio turned toward you, his free hand sliding to your waist as he pushed you gently against the wall.

“Couldn’t wait, huh?” you teased breathlessly, though your heart was racing.

“Not even a little,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. His lips crashed into yours, and this time there was no hesitation. His kiss was demanding, full of need, and you melted into him, gripping the front of his shirt to steady yourself.

His hands explored your sides, fingers pressing into your skin as if he was afraid to let go. Every thought slipped from your mind, replaced by the feeling of him—his lips, his hands, the way his body pressed into yours.

The ding of the elevator snapped you both back to reality. You pulled away just enough to catch your breath, your cheeks flushed as you glanced at the now-open doors.

“Saved by the bell,” you said, trying to steady your voice.

Folio chuckled, his forehead resting against yours for a brief moment. “Not for long.”

Taking your hand again, he led you down the hallway, his pace quick and purposeful. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his urgency, but there was no denying the anticipation bubbling in your chest.

When you reached his room, Folio fumbled with the key card for a second before pushing the door open. Before you could take in your surroundings, your back was against the wall again, his lips finding yours like he couldn’t bear to stop.

He pulled away just enough to search your eyes, his breath mingling with yours. “You sure, princess?” he asked, his voice softer now, laced with something almost vulnerable.

You nodded, your hand brushing his cheek. “100%.”

That was all he needed to hear.

With a grin, he slipped his hands around your thighs and lifted you effortlessly, carrying you toward the bed. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your laughter mingling with his as the tension between you both gave way to something deeper, more intimate.

The two of you were completely lost in each other. Time seemed to blur as you made out, lips moving together in perfect rhythm. His hands roamed your body with a mix of confidence and care, tracing the curve of your waist, the line of your back, like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

Folio’s kisses weren’t just passionate—they were consuming. Every time he pulled back to catch his breath, his lips found a new spot: the corner of your mouth, your jawline, the sensitive spot just beneath your ear that sent shivers down your spine.

Your fingers toyed with the hem of his hoodie, tugging gently. It wasn’t subtle, and he pulled back just enough to smirk at you, his lips already swollen. “What’s the rush, princess? I was just getting started,” he teased, his voice low and full of heat.

You rolled your eyes, though your breathless laugh betrayed you. “Less talking, more action, drummer boy.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “As you wish.”

In one swift motion, he grabbed the hem of his hoodie and pulled it over his head, tossing it carelessly to the side. His toned chest and tattooed arms were on full display now, and you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger.

“Like what you see?” he asked, grinning when he caught you staring.

“Shut up,” you muttered, cheeks flushing, but you couldn’t hide your smirk.

Folio leaned in again, kissing you deeply as his hands found the edge of your sweater. He hesitated for a moment, his fingers brushing your skin, and then he tugged it upward, pulling it off in one fluid motion.

“Much better,” he murmured, his eyes darkening as they roamed over you. “God, you’re beautiful.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“Keep saying stuff like that, and you might just get lucky,” you teased, though your voice was softer now.

His laugh was low and rich, and he kissed you again, this time with even more urgency. His hands roamed your bare skin, leaving trails of warmth wherever they touched. You weren’t sure who moved first, but soon enough, your jeans were gone, followed quickly by his.

Now in just your underwear, you could feel the heat radiating between you. Your hands explored his body, tracing the muscles of his back and shoulders as his lips trailed down your neck. You arched into his touch, a soft groan escaping your lips when his hands stroked your sides, his thumbs brushing dangerously close to the edge of your bra.

“Folio...” you whispered, your voice thick with need.

He hummed against your skin, his lips never stopping their assault. “What’s that, princess?”

“Nicky,” you groaned, using the nickname you knew would get his attention. His head snapped up, and his eyes locked onto yours. “I need you.”

Something shifted in his expression, his usual teasing demeanor replaced by something raw, almost primal. He kissed you again, harder this time, his hands gripping your hips as though he was trying to ground himself.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that,” he murmured against your lips.

Without another word, his hand slid down your side, his touch igniting every nerve in your body. When his fingers found the place where you needed him most, your gasp turned into a soft moan, and his name fell from your lips like a prayer.

Folio’s fingers explored you with a confidence that made you gasp, and the sound pulled a low groan from his lips. His forehead rested against yours, and his voice was rough, almost a whisper. “You’re so wet, Y/N,” he said, his breath hot against your skin.

You bit your lip, your face flushing as you locked eyes with him. A teasing smirk tugged at your lips, despite the haze clouding your mind. “Oh, I have been,” you admitted, your voice breathy, “since I saw you smoking that joint on stage.”

Folio groaned, the sound deep and guttural. His lips brushed against your ear as he chuckled. “You’re gonna be the death of me, princess,” he murmured, his tone full of both adoration and hunger.

His fingers worked in and out of you with a rhythm that had your back arching against the bed. Each motion sent a wave of pleasure through you, making it impossible to keep quiet. Your hands clutched the sheets beneath you, and his name spilled from your lips like a plea.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his voice dripping with encouragement. “Let go for me. I want to see you fall apart.”

And you did. Your body trembled beneath his touch as he brought you over the edge, your cries filling the room. The intensity left you breathless, your chest rising and falling as you came undone beneath him.

Folio slowed his movements, pressing soft kisses to your skin as you came down. His lips trailed lower, leaving a path of warmth and electricity in their wake. When he reached the hem of your panties, he paused, glancing up at you with a look that sent another shiver down your spine.

The silent question in his eyes was clear. You nodded, your trust in him unspoken but unwavering.

He didn’t hesitate, hooking his fingers under the waistband and pulling your panties down slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. Once they were gone, he settled between your legs, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh before his lips found the place where you needed him most.

The moment his tongue moved against you, your head fell back against the pillows, a shaky gasp escaping your lips. “Oh, my God, Nicky,” you moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair as he worked you expertly.

The sounds he made—the soft hums of satisfaction and the occasional groan when you pulled on his hair—only heightened your pleasure. He alternated between slow, teasing strokes and firm, purposeful movements that had your hips bucking against him.

“Folio,” you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper as the tension inside you built again.

“Right here, princess,” he murmured against your skin, his words sending vibrations through you.

It didn’t take long for the pleasure to crest again, this time even more intense than the first. Your body tensed, your cries filling the room as you shattered beneath him. He didn’t stop until every last wave had subsided, his movements gentle as he helped you ride it out.

When you finally stilled, he smirked, clearly proud of himself. He rested his head on your hips, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your thigh. “You good, princess?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost tender.

You nodded, a dazed smile spreading across your lips. “Mhm. More than good,” you replied, your voice still breathless. “Come here.”

He crawled up your body, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was slower this time but no less intense. You could taste yourself on him, and instead of shying away, you deepened the kiss, pulling him closer.

Your hands wandered down his chest, fingers tracing the lines of his muscles until they reached the waistband of his boxers. You palmed him through the fabric, feeling his arousal straining against it.

Folio groaned into your mouth, his hips jerking slightly at your touch. “Fuck, Y/N,” he muttered, breaking the kiss just enough to rest his forehead against yours. “You’re gonna drive me crazy.”

“Good,” you teased, a playful smirk tugging at your lips as your hand slipped under the waistband, wrapping around him. The warmth of his hardened length against your palm sent a thrill through you, and you stroked him slowly, savoring the way his breath hitched.

“You keep doing that,” he murmured, his voice strained, “and I’m not gonna last, princess.”

“Then don’t,” you whispered, your tone teasing yet full of want. “I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel.”

Folio’s gaze darkened, and he kissed you again, his hand sliding up your side and tangling in your hair as he lost himself in the moment. Folio’s lips were hot against your neck, his breath ragged as he kissed his way up to your ear. You pulled him closer, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. “Now show me how much you care about me, Folio,” you whispered, your voice soft but laced with need.

His breath hitched at your words, and he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and full of desire. “You have no idea what you do to me, princess,” he murmured before pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

His movements were slow and deliberate as he slid his boxers down, freeing himself. You couldn’t help but glance down, and your breath caught at the sight of him. He smirked when he noticed your reaction, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“Like what you see?” he teased, his tone playful despite the tension crackling between you.

You gave him a cheeky grin, your hands sliding up his chest. “Very.”

His laugh was low and rich, but it was cut short as he kissed you again, his lips hungry against yours. After a moment, he pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m gonna grab a condom real quick, yeah?” he said, his voice full of care despite the urgency in his movements.

You shook your head, your hands gently cradling his face. “You don’t need to,” you told him, your voice soft but steady. “I’m on the pill.”

Folio groaned, the sound deep and guttural, his lips brushing against your temple. “Fuck, okay,” he murmured, his hands gripping your hips as he positioned himself. “Tell me if you need me to stop, okay?”

You nodded, your trust in him unwavering. “I will,” you assured him, your voice barely above a whisper.

He guided himself to your entrance, sliding his length through your folds with deliberate slowness, letting you adjust to the sensation. The moment he began to sink into you, you both moaned in unison, the sound filling the room.

“God, you’re so tight, baby,” Folio groaned, his voice strained as he fought to keep his movements controlled.

You gasped, your nails digging lightly into his shoulders. “Or,” you managed to breathe out, a teasing smile tugging at your lips despite the haze in your mind. “You’re just big, Folio.”

His head dropped to your shoulder, another deep groan escaping him. “Fuck,” he muttered, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he bottomed out, staying still for a moment to let you both adjust.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort.

You nodded quickly, your legs tightening around him. “More than okay,” you murmured. “Move, Nicky.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled out slowly before slamming back into you, setting a rhythm that had you both panting and moaning in no time. Each thrust was deep and purposeful, his name falling from your lips like a mantra.

The coil in your stomach tightened with every movement, and you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge. “Folio,” you whimpered, your hands tangling in his hair as your back arched off the bed.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his lips pressing against your temple. “Let go for me, princess. I want to feel you.”

With one more thrust, the knot in your stomach snapped, and you cried out his name as you came undone beneath him. The sensation of your walls tightening around him pushed Folio over the edge, and he groaned deeply as he followed, spilling into you with a final, powerful thrust.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, his body hovering over yours as you both caught your breath. His forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed as he came down from his high.

“You okay?” he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You smiled up at him, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “Mhm. More than okay,” you replied, your voice still breathless.

Folio smiled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I—”

A sudden knock on the door interrupted him, making you both freeze. He groaned, resting his head on your shoulder with an exaggerated sigh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your fingers brushing through his hair. “Better get that, rockstar.”

Folio scrambled to pull his boxers and shirt back on, clearly flustered by the unexpected interruption. You slid beneath the covers, pulling them up to your chest and trying to contain your giggles.

He shot you a quick look before dashing over to the door, still trying to fix his disheveled hair. When he swung it open, Matt stood there, arms crossed with a smug look on his face.

“Can I help you, Matt?” Folio asked, his voice a little too casual, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping up his neck.

Matt raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “Uh, yeah, actually. I could hear you two down the hall,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “So, keep it down, yeah? I don’t know how much press there is in this hotel.”

Folio’s face turned as red as a tomato, his lips pressing into a thin line as he fought to hold back his laughter. “Fuck, okay,” he muttered, pulling his lip between his teeth and nodding quickly.

Matt leaned against the doorframe, clearly enjoying the moment. “Called it, by the way,” he added with a wink, before turning on his heels and walking away.

Folio closed the door with a soft thud and let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping in relief. You couldn’t hold it in any longer, bursting out in laughter.

“That was so embarrassing,” he said, shaking his head, but his smile was wide, the redness still lingering on his cheeks.

You snickered, sitting up on the bed, and held your arms open. “Come here, Folio,” you said, still laughing, your voice light and teasing.

Folio hesitated for a moment, but then he grinned, shaking his head. “You’re really enjoying this, huh?”

“More than you know,” you replied, winking at him. “Now get over here, my drummer boy.”

He sighed dramatically, though the playful glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t actually upset. With one last, exaggerated eye roll, he crossed the room and climbed back onto the bed beside you.

You snuggled up next to him, your head resting on his shoulder as the two of you tried to settle into a more relaxed position. “Can’t believe Matt heard everything,” you said, still chuckling quietly.

Folio wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close. “I don’t know who’s worse—Matt for hearing or me for not realizing how loud we were being.”

You smirked up at him. “I’m gonna guess Matt, since he was the one who interrupted us.”

Folio laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “True. But I’m blaming you, anyway,” he teased, giving you a playful squeeze. “You’re just too irresistible, princess.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face betrayed the teasing. “Uh-huh. Sure, blame me,” you replied, your voice light and playful. “I’m just the innocent bystander in all this.”

“Mm-hmm,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “Innocent, my ass.”

You both laughed together, the tension from earlier melting away as you enjoyed the moment in each other’s company, no longer caring about anything else happening outside the room.

taglist: @courta13

[x-heesy]

Antique fans with cats and dogs from the late 19th - early 20th centuries

#antiques #vintage #history #historyofart #historycal #historyfacts #historylovers #historyinpictures #historymade #historygeek #historyera #historyphoto #historyclass #historychannel #historylesson #historygram #historynerd #historytour #historyofphotography #historyplace #historylover #historyphotographed #historymatters #historyoffashion #historyiscool #arthistory #historical #historicalplaces #historicalpix #historicalclothing #historicalphotos #historicalromance #historicalmonument #historicalfacts #historicalart #historicalsnapshots #historicalphotography #historicalphoto #historicalpictures #historicalhome #historicalcenter #historicaldesign #historicalfantasy #historicalusociety

𝙵𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜 & 𝙵𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚜 - 𝙳𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚣 𝙺𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚕 𝚁𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚡 𝚋𝚢 𝙽/𝚊, 𝚁𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚊 🎧🫶🏽

[scriblubed-bonnibel]

Super Blind

Close friends to lovers | Jordan Li x (gn)reader

Reader will use they/them pronouns as well (lets go nonbinaries woooh <3) Just some oneshot I’ve been brain rotting about while scrolling through tumblr.

Summary: Jordan and y/n have been flirting every now and then but can’t seem to confess. One day they just… do.

Context: reader has powers that affect their emotions. Be it taking them from others, making them feel emotions, just reading their emotions, and sometimes they can even exude their emotions; having others feel it when closer to the reader.

Warnings: bad language, cute moments, kissing

If you aren’t ok with the whole “switching between masc and fem” thing then feel free to click off (tho i doubt it cause ure reading a Jordan Li fic so yeah)

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“Emma I don’t know anymore! Jordan’s probably high fucking some- fucking dude! And I’m here lonely-“ “hey!” Emma looks at me offended, “and ranting to my best friend about my crush for like what- years now!” Emma stands up and puts her hands on my shoulders, “hey, if it’s worth anything. JORDAN TOTALLY FUCKING LIKES YOU YOU IDIOT.” She shakes me back and forth.

“You’re just saying that” I brush her off and flop on my bed. “Are you fucking kidding me?” She looks at me dumbfounded and as if I said the stupidest thing ever. “They literally gaze at you. And did you not notice the fact that uhhh you have flowers on your desk from them!” She gestures to the small flower arrangement on my desk.

“Big whoop. They got those flowers for me after I recovered from that stupid slip.” I rolled my eyes at her. “This-“ Emma trails off in frustration and face palms. “Listen, I’m just saying, Jordan, one of the top students, most probably maybe possibly has a crush on you maybe wants to even fuck you!” I laugh at her and just pull the covers over myself. “I doubt it! Now leave cause I’m pretty sure you’re late for one of your classes.”

“OH SHI-“ she’s cut off by the sound of a door slamming shut. “Loser” I laugh and close my eyes under the blanket, trying to just forget about Jordan… Jordan… Jordan… and.. y/n. Y/n and Jordan. A dreamy sigh escapes my lips as I swoon once more. Without even realizing, sleep takes over me.

Gentle knocks from my door wakes me up. “Emma for the last time my door is always open!!” I yell. “You lock your door once when she wants to visit and she just forgets it’s always open..” I grumble. The door opens slowly. “Y/n..?” Jordan’s voice calls out.

wait

Jordan’s. Voice? Their. Voice? Panic shoots through me as I sit up in distress. “Jordan-“ i cough quickly to try to sound less panicked, “uh- ahem Jordan! Hey, hi! DONT COME IN- I’m- my room is a mess-“ I look around and see the door still cracked a little bit. “Not- not looking! Just wanted you to know it’s me!” They say, laughing softly… I sigh again… their laugh- FIX YOUR ROOM AND YOURSELF GET IT TOGETHER.

I run to the full body mirror and fix myself up. Taming my bedhead, adjusting my sleeping shirt and shorts, making sure I look normal but also… maybe a tiny little bit cute. I fix up the random clutter on the floor and spray a little bit of cologne everywhere.

I get to the door and put my hand on my heart to sorta calm down. Okay… one.. two.. three and-

There is no denying how stupidly in love I looked the moment I opened the door to see them in their feminine. Eyes softened, lips in a content smile, and sighing dreamily. “Hi~” I breathed out, still swooning. They dont help my case at all when they smirk and look at me in a similar manner. “Hi…” they trail off, blinking a few times before getting both of us out of our trance.

“Sorry for uhh the whole emotion wafting off of me. Still learning how to control it.” I laugh awkwardly. They wave their hand in a ‘nah dont worry’ motion, “Y/n you know I dont mind that at all. We’re all learning.” We both smile briefly, “so, whatcha doing here?” I open the door wider and sit on my bed. They enter, closing the door behind them, and sit next to me. “I uhh honestly…” I wasn’t looking at them, too busy fiddling with my hands, but I heard them change into their masculine form. “I was just around.. and wanted to hang with you…” ‘hang out.. with me?’ I thought before I looked at them.

They were.. already looking at me. A blush slowly crept up on my face as I internally panicked, replying to cover up my distress. “Uhh yeah sure, we could invite Cate for a girls time, or maybe have Emma ditch for I dont know-” I get cut off “why not just us?” They ask, shrugging nonchalantly. “Just us?” I repeat. “Y’know… just Y/n and Jordan. Just us.” Their gaze is turned away for some reason.. “I MEAN- if you don’t want to then yeah of course Kate could come arou-” they began to ramble but I touch their hand gently, focusing on calming their emotions down.

“I would like that” I smile. “Yeah..? Like a date right that’s what I’m trying to invite you to” they clarify, their emotions wafting to me… infatuation, swooning, happiness… ‘they’re happy…’. I smile and nod happily.

They stand up and offer their hand, then an uncertainty surfaces on their face. “Uhm… do you want feminine or masculine..?” They ask still in their masculine form. “Are you shitting me? How many times do I have to say this. Anything is fine as long as it’s what you want and what you feel like.” I smile up at them and stand from the bed to give them a quick hug. I hear them changing into their feminine form/nothing change as they decide to remain in their masculine form and push them to face away from me. I smile, feeling more comfortable with them again, dropping the whole “in love with you” deal and being my authentic self.

“Now don’t fucking peak, lemme just change clothes.” I said as I looked at my closet. “Where’re we going again?”

Jordan’s POV

‘I cannot fucking believe they said yes- I mean I know Kate said they liked me but I was still unsure-‘ “Jordan!!! Helloooo?” I’m snapped out of my thoughts when Y/n shakes me from behind. “Earth to Jordannn, where are you taking meeeeee.” I chuckle at their antics, “just dress casual, we aren’t going to the fucking gala or something.” I laugh and I hear shuffling behind me. Tempted… I turn slowly- “not a fucking peep Jordan Li.” They say sternly. I laugh and put my hands up in defense “alright alright.”

Moments pass and I feel two taps on my shoulder. I turn and smile at them. Wearing such comfy yet cute clothes to our first date. Our first date. Damn.

Reader’s POV

Walking around with Jordan Li was normal. We would do this from time to time whenever stress got to us. But this was different. This was a fucking date. Like, hand brushing against each other, got coffee or tea kinda fucking date.

We decided to walk around campus, much to the distaste of Jordan. “You are sooo fucking lucky I put up with your goody-two-shoes behavior” they tell me, squinting playfully at me. “I am very lucky thank you.” I respond to spite them. They smile and shake their head.

We walk in comforting silence. It’s so strange how the context of a walk can change the whole way it feels. Normally we would just walk casually and we would talk about anything and everything. Shoving each other, being just friends. But now… it feels so… pure? I guess… like puppy love. Jordan taking glances at me and I would do the same. Whenever we meet eyes they’d chuckle as I look away shyly. They’re just… too sweet.

“Are you enjoying?”

I look up in surprise, not realizing we had stopped walking. “Yeah of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked, worried I had done something wrong. “Just making sure, that’s all. Cause I wouldn’t want to be the only one enjoying our date” they smile at me sweetly. A worry forms in my stomach when my brain starts to go on hyperdrive. They aren’t… joking about this right…? My walls start building as I worry that Jordan was just put up to this for a stupid fucking prank.

Jordan takes my hand in worry, shifting to their masculine form. A tendency they did when they were worried about me. “Hey, what’s wrong? Did I say something?” I pull my hand back slowly. “You aren’t.. doing this for a dare right.. cause- cause I know I’m not that good at hiding my crushes but if this was a fucking joke I swear-” I’m suddenly silenced as they pull me in close for a hug. “I know Y/n. If it’s a joke, you swear you’ll make me miserable for the rest of my life.” Their chest rumbles as they chuckle. “It’s not a joke… the only thing I had help with was ask Cate to make me go to your dorm and ask you out blatantly.”

I step back a little, “you what?” I laugh incredulously. “Listen! I keep hearing rumors that you like me but I never saw it! Cate always told me that I was Super-”

“Blind?” I finish their sentence. “Yeah, Emma told me the same thing” I shake my head and laugh in disbelief. “So… you do like me?” They ask, as they lift my chin to look into their eyes. My breath hitches and I nod quietly. “Good.. cause.. I like you too… maybe.. even more than like.” They smile and shift back to their feminine form, something they did.. when they felt comfortable with me.

Their hand on my chin slowly travelled to my cheek and soothingly rubbed it with their thumb. The blush from earlier creeps up again and I silently plead that Jordan can’t feel my face slowly heat up. They chuckle, “I never realized how cute you looked whenever you blush…” the warmth blooms past my cheeks and into my chest as the butterflies flutter more intensely. “Y/n..?” Jordan asks softly, their eyes not even trying to hide the fact that they’re looking at my lips. “Yes..?” I reply just as softly.

“Can I.. kiss you?” I stop functioning the moment they stop talking. Unable to speak I do one slow and obvious nod to say yes. “Thank you” they smile and lean in lips barely touching, as if telling me that if I wanted to back out now, now is the time. But fuck that I’m getting that kiss.

I smile and kiss them deeply, tiptoeing a little bit to wrap my arms around their neck. The smile on our lips palpable and our emotions mixing with one another as pure happiness exudes from the both of us.

We part after a moment, smiling widely. They chuckle softly. “What’s so funny? Was my breath bad- did I hit your teeth? What is it what?!” I panicked.

“Nothing nothing!” They laugh, “Just… you’re so cute… I couldn’t stop feeling your butterflies wafting off of you ever since we started the date. And well.. every time you see me.”

“And you didn’t tell me?!” I gasped and hit them playfully, they shift to their masculine form and held my hands together in front of me. “I didn’t tell you because…how could I tell the cutest person in the world,” they lean in and kiss me gently once more and whisper, “that even their emotions are cute?”

This person will be the end of me… and I love it.

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EEEE I’m so glad I got to finish this cksndjsz my brain cannot for the love of me stop thinking about Jordan. THEY’RE JUST SO CISJDJSZJ C U T E.

Anyways, feel free to give comments on how I can improve ! And ofc I hope you enjoyed ♡

Edit: holy f u c k- Im v surprised this is getting 300 notes 😭 im very glad people are enjoying !! College is just biting my ass but I’m writing other fics from other fandoms!

Take care always!

[freesketchgo]

- Diana and Bruce hiding on Themyscira -

Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like to see Diana find her way home, even with the help of the others, after the events of ZSJL. (Knowing Bruce and the others if anyone they would have probably found a way with Diana to get back to the island.) I wonder how the amazons would have received Diana's fellow warriors on the island and Bruce who is the most ordinary out of them yet a crucial member of the team. Surely he would have been tested by the amazons to see if he was worthy to set foot on the island and he would have proved it in the end for sure. As Diana was an only child there, she must have had many hiding places, so I imagine this place as one of her favorite childhood hideaways where she often spent time painting on the walls what she saw and experienced on Themyscira. I wish we could have seen them together in this paradise (or just Diana getting back to see her mother is still alive).

[sexierthanaman]

@glitchexmachina continued from x.

"My favorite snack doesn't exist on Earth," Kori said softly after a moment. "I do really like kettle corn though! I like how it is sweet and salty."

[eleni-cherie]

a thief's origin ✨ || bts • kth [COMPLETED] masterlist

"you're afraid I won't wait."

"I'm afraid you will."

a criminal and a doctor should be as different as the sun and the moon - but unexpected things happened every day. like him finding his safe haven in her.

[prequel in "the thieves collection" series - can be read independently!!]

© 2024 | eleni_cherie

»»»

list of all chapters:

prologue | 0.1 | 0.2 | 0.3 | 0.4 | 0.5 | 0.6 | 0.7 | 0.8 | 0.9 | 1.0 | 1.1 | 1.2 | 1.3 | epilogue

— word count: 73k

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

— song recommendations/inspirations:

claire - neon love

v - fri(end)s

alexandra savior - but you

arctic monkeys - 505

bts - house of cards

solar - adrenaline

»»»

COPYRIGHT. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

IDEA/STORY/CHARACTERS BASED ON MY PREVIOUS JIMIN FANFIC "AMONG THIEVES" AND YOONGI FANFIC "A THIEF'S END".

contrary to the stories of jimin and yoongi in this series, which had a consistent storyline taking place in a specific time period, taehyung's story shows glimpses of how his and cassandra's friendship and relationship developed over the years. there's still action though, just like in the other stories!

PROTAGONISTS:

KIM TAEHYUNG AS HIMSELF; YOUNG THIEF / CHEEKY GUNMAN

SARAH HYLAND AS CASSANDRA; YOUNG DOCTOR / FEISTY GANGSTER FILM LOVER

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

NOT FREE FROM LINGUISTIC ERRORS - ENGLISH IS NOT MY NATIVE LANGUAGE.

DON’T BE A GHOST READER. LIKE, COMMENT & SHARE THIS STORY IF YOU LIKE IT :))

DEDICATED TO EVERYONE WHO’S READING THIS FANFIC! BUT ALSO ONCE AGAIN @taexual WHO HELPED ME WITH THE DESCRIPTION AND TO STAY MOTIVATED FOR MONTHS!

CHECK OUT MY OTHER STORIES AS WELL: HERE

-Elenixx

[starrcrossrose]

Oh look a sneak peek of Part 2 👀

There’s nothing I love more than angst that’s loaded with feelings hehehe

[iseulcottage]

ㅤ 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝗈𝖻𝖺 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌.

[gloryride]

If you wanna be my lover ...

During his corpo years, Virgile felt alone. He left his clan to survive, to have a Second Heart, now he has to work for NetWatch. And then, he met Valentin, an Arasaka agent, and they became friends, partners in crime ... and lovers. A friendship with benefits, when they can be soft, horny, sad, fun without judgment. Very cute pose to describe their relationship, commissionned by @chevvy-yates and made by talented @jpegelf ♥

[imaginarycyberpunk2023]

OC: Vinnie Gallo // with frenemy Roland Hardin, shots by @kdval

Thank you for these, honey 🧡

[f1nalgirlz]

sleepovers are fun! | Charlie Walker ♡

In which Charlie and y/n have a special moment at Kirby’s “kick off for October sleepover”

≪warnings≫ sexual content, nsfw, feminine pronouns, alcohol

≪ contents≫ Charlie Walker x you, Charlie Walker x Reader, exhibitionism kind of??, creampie, oral sex (fem receiving), p in v, kinda dom charlie?

The sun was setting as Y/N walked to Kirby’s house, it being the first day of October the air was cool. As she tracked along, she examined all the trees that were shifting in color smiling to herself. Y/N absolutely loved this time of year, and she was excited to be going to a sleepover that celebrates it. It was Kirby’s annual kickoff October sleepover that she’d came to every year since 8th grade. It was a tradition they were happy to continue every year being best friends, of course more people joined over the years. Y/N broke from her thoughts as her shoes hit Kirby’s stairs, instantly running up them and knocking on her door. After a few moments the door swung open and there stood her very best friend, Kirby, who pulled Y/N into a tight hug, dragging her inside. She looked around and smiled. “no one else get here yet?” she asks, looking inquisitively at Kirby. “Nope. Not yet! You’re first as always, Y/N.” she grinned at her and began leading her to the kitchen. “Shall we have a few drinks on this fine night?” She asks, leaning on her counter. Y/N nodded. “Yes, please.” She said happily as Kirby started making the drinks. Soon, familiar faces started pouring in. Jill and her douche boyfriend Trevor, Olivia, Robbie, and last to arrive was Charlie. Charlie was probably Y/N’s closest friend besides Kirby. What she didn’t know however, was how big of a raging crush Charlie had been harboring for her for years. He hid it decently well, not daring to speak it out loud to anyone, but he jumped at any opportunity to be alone with y/n or even just near her.

The night had gone well so far, everyone was having fun and gotten a few drinks in them. It was at this point in the night someone, maybe Olivia, had expressed they should play truth or dare, which everyone happily agreed to in their slightly inebriated shape. A few turns went by, daring a few people to take shots or silly secrets being confessed. When it was Charlie’s turn, Kirby asked him the question that lit everyone’s nerves up. “Truth or dare, Charlie?” It seemed like he was thinking before answering, “Dare.” As he answered Kirby face changed a little, a mischievous smile working its way onto her lips. See, Kirby had kind of sussed out Charlie’s crush on her best friend. Of course he’d never said it out loud to her, but she could just tell when things shifted. When slowly Charlie’s crush on her had fizzled out, yet he still lingered closely around her and her best friend. She’d never told Y/N about it of course, she believed herself to be a better person than someone who’d rat out someone’s crush. “Charlie, I dare you to kiss Y/N. Not a peck either really plant one on her!” She said, laughing happily.

“Kirby!” Y/N gasped, shooting her a look. It’s not that she’d had anything against Charlie, far from it, but she was a little nervous something as silly as a truth or dare kiss would jam a wedge in their friendship. “You guys have to, it was a dare.” Olivia chimed in, gaining nods in agreement from Jill and Trevor. Charlie, who was sitting beside you just shrugged, trying to act cool on the outside even though his insides were burning up. He was genuinely having an internal freak out. Getting to finally kiss you had NOT been in his plans. “Let’s just go for it,” Y/N mumbled, leaning in towards Charlie. He slightly panicked but shoved their lips together, the kiss lasted for a few moments before they both pulled away. The group around them laughing, cheering, and clapping at the two. As much as y/n really wanted to deny it, she felt something…it felt different. It felt good and she liked it, maybe it was because she was slightly tipsy but for the rest of the game she found herself craving more, glancing over at Charlie. Nobody really noticed.

It had gotten much later, everyone had found their way to a place to sleep. Robbie had taken his sleeping bag into an office room, closing the door behind him. Kirby went to her bed, inviting Y/N and Jill to go with her as they slept every year but only Jill accepted. Olivia followed the two up the stairs, sleeping bag in hand. Trevor had found his way to a spare bedroom quickly, as if he didn’t want anyone to steal it.

Y/N simply needed to clear her head alone, worried about what those feelings from earlier meant. She’d walked into an empty room, changing into some shorts and taking her bra off, just wanting to be comfortable. As she laid on the couch, her thoughts were cut short as Charlie walked back in from the bathroom where he’d been. Hair still damp from the shower he’d been taking. He was grabbing his sleeping bag off the floor and walking right towards Y/N. She sat up. “Is it cool if I sleep in here? I don’t want to bother you.” He said. She nodded, her heart speeding up. Why? Why now? “Uh yeah sure.” She said,looking at him as he began to lay out his sleeping bag on the ground next to the couch. They’d slept like this before at different sleepovers throughout the years, so why now did it make her heart beat out of her chest? As Charlie sat down onto his sleeping bag, sorting himself out for the night, y/n got up rather abruptly. She walked into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and pouring herself at least 3 shots, gulping them all down at once. Charlie noticed, but chose to not chase after her, simply watching from the living room floor. Y/N made her way back and sat down on the couch, looking down to Charlie on the floor. She couldn’t stop thinking about him, his lips, the way his lips felt on her own… she felt like she was going crazy. “Are you okay?” He asked her, but he didn’t receive an answer he got met with lips against his own. Her hands grabbed onto his cheeks as she made her way onto the floor with him. While he was internally freaking out, he was incredibly excited, grabbing onto her waist and pulling her into him. They continued like that for a while until Charlie rolled her over onto her back, hovering over her as they stared at each other. “I want you.” She whispered, staring at him, it’s like all the internal tension has solved itself and she knew exactly what she wanted. He gave her a nod and dipped back down for a kiss, trailing those kisses down her neck, his wet hair making her shiver as it touched her arm. He slowly pulled up her tank top, attacking her, now bare, chest and stomach with slow kisses. Both of their cheeks were burning red at this point. As he made his way down to her waist band, he looked up at her to see her nodding, almost pleading. His fingers latched on to her shorts and tugged them down, panties coming with them. He stared at her heat for a moment, cheeks burning but it didn’t take long for him to enthusiastically bury his face between her thighs. He’d never done anything like this before, but he had watched hours of porn and tutorials, hoping and praying that one day this moment would come. He began licking her folds, making his way to find her clit. When she gasped a little louder than previously, he assumed he’d found it, beginning to lick at the bundle of nerves. Y/N’s body reacted so well to him, she felt like her whole body was on fire. As Charlie licked more aggressively, beginning to suck on the bud every now and again, she could feel slick dripping from her hole. She was doing her best to stay quiet but let out a low moan when Charlie sank a single finger into her, continuing with his mouth at the same time. The one was followed by another and soon Y/N was gently shaking all over. He pulled his fingers out, moving his head down to her hole to get one last lick, filling his mouth with her wetness. She whined when he stopped and looked at him. “Why’d you stop?” She huffed out, but he just smiled softly. “Do you want to go further?” He whispered, she caught on and nodded. He pulled down his plaid green pajama pants and underwear. His cock bounced out clearly already hard, just from eating her out. He grabbed his dick with one hand lining it up with her hole and pushing just the tip inside her. She moaned, feeling like her insides were just throbbing for him. He continued to push his cock into the warm embrace of her wetness, grabbing under her knees and pushing them back, exposing more of her. He nearly drooled at the sight of his dick buried in her pussy.

Y/N felt like she could barely breathe, her cunt ached around his cock, needing movement or she felt like she would explode. As if reading her mind, Charlie slowly started thrusting into her, the wet sound her pussy made as he fucked into her, just made him hornier. The two tried to remain quiet, only letting out soft moans and grunts. Charlie had sped up, removing one hand from under her legs and moving it to almost grip onto her pussy, locating her clit with his thumb and rubbing it, this sent a shock through her body and her legs twitched. She felt so close to an orgasm she could hardly think, gripping onto Charlie’s sleeping bag with one hand and digging her nails into his shoulder with the other. She soon felt a hot liquid shooting deep into her, filling up her insides followed by the sound of Charlie moaning, body shaking. This sent her over the edge, her body shaking as she orgasmed, pussy clenching around Charlie, milking every last drop from him. When he finally pulled out, they were both panting. They kissed again, another slow kiss. Charlie pulled his pants back up, as well as Y/N’s trapping his cum that was flowing out inside her panties. She sat up and pulled her tank top down, blushing deeply. “So um..” she started but was interrupted by the sound of feet coming down the stairs.

Soooo… idk if anyone will actually read this, I need to express my hyperfixation somehow. I haven’t written anything like this in years so please bare with me. If someone does read this I’d love more ideas please please please!!! 🩷

[x-heesy]

𝙻 𝚘 𝚟 𝚎 🐶

#mybestfriendisananimal#dogs #dogsofinstagram #dogstagram #dogsofinsta #dogslife #dogsofinstgram #dogsandpals #dogslover #dogsoftheday #dogsworld #dogsarefamily #instadogs #cutedogs #dogsarethebest #dogslovers #instagramdogs #dogsoftheworld #dogsplaying #lovedogs #dogsgram #hundeliebe #hundeaufinstagram #hundeleben #hundeglück #hundefreunde #hundewelt

Don't Worry Be Happy by Bobby McFerrin 🏝️

[gothsuguru]

in all honesty i think gojo is my favoritest character of all time (alongside toji ofc) but he’s the one i could Legitimately see myself dating/being in a relationship with… w suguru it’s like . ok he’s hot but he’s not very nice and he’s condescending so he’d pissed me the FUCK off whereas satoru has joy whimsy and beauty + i love him