#watching this just puts a smile on my face

[cutehoons02]

Make be mine

*pairing: frat emo-boy hybrid deer Heeseug x popolar girl

*trope: Roomates to hates to lovers

*synopsis: When you, a bright but impulsive student, agree to share the apartment with a dark-eyed and gloomy-looking hybrid deer, Heeseung, you know it’s going to be an intense experience. But you can’t imagine how. He is introverted, controlled, with an animal instinct that desperately tries to keep at bay. You're the opposite: human, daring, stubborn… and curiously attracted by that mysterious aura that Hee carries with her. Between daily squabbles, shared nights, growing jealousies and an imprinting that risks to bind them forever, the boundary between play and desire becomes ever thinner.

*tags: A lot of tension, the protagonist is curious and cheeky with Heeseung, they have to share the bed, Heeseung is an innocent fake a little shy and grumpy at first, fluffy moments, lots of kisses, pacifiers, fingering, unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) First time Heeseung knot, statement, pet names (small) (Hee, good boy) +18

(English is not my native language)

12.2k (🦌)

'You’ll be sharing the room with a human.'

Hee had squinted when they’d told him that at the admin office. He’d thought it was a joke. Or a mistake. Why on earth would they put a hybrid—a deer, no less—in the same room as a human girl?

But the housing clerk hadn’t even looked up from her papers. She just shrugged.

'There’s a shortage of single rooms. It’s temporary. Deal with it.'

So he’d dealt with it. More or less.

He had arrived the night before, tossed a hoodie on the bed (yes, just one bed), and put his headphones on, staring at the ceiling, thinking of the ridiculous number of things that could go wrong.

But he hadn’t expected you.

You, bursting through the door all theatrical, mouth already forming a complaint, eyes sweeping dramatically across the room, widening as you spotted the single bed.

And then—bam. You bumped right into him.

The contact. Your scent. Your warm skin.

He looked down at you. Liquid, mischievous eyes. Furrowed brows, soft lips, backpack still slung over one shoulder, and a suitcase bigger than you. And an expression... confused, but intrigued.

She’s cute, was his first thought. Cute in that dangerous way. The kind of girl who looks innocent, but knows exactly what she’s doing.

You looked up at him and froze, like you’d just seen some rare, beautiful animal. Which, technically, was true.

“Oh. Sorry. I... I didn’t see you.”

Hee gave a small nod, already feeling the heat rising to his ears. Those damn spotted ears always gave him away.

“It’s fine. Uh... there’s only one bed, but I’ll get another this week. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Didn’t mean to make myself uncomfortable either, he thought. But it’s too late now.

You nodded, but seemed more interested in him than in the logistics. And when you kept staring—too long—he exhaled through his nose and turned to face you.

“Want a photo?”

Your little smirk was a knife disguised as a caress. “Nah. Don’t need one. I’ll see you every day anyway, right?”

He dropped onto the beanbag with a what-kind-of-human-did-I-get expression and started chewing on his hoodie string—a nervous habit that kicked in whenever he tried to play it cool.

And as he watched you, he realized he’d been right: there was nothing innocent about you.

The way you looked at him. The way you moved. The way you smiled with just one side of your mouth.

There was something about you... shameless, but well-disguised. And that drove him crazy.

“If you’ve got questions, just ask. I can read expressions—even human ones. And yours... is full of question marks.”

You pretended not to hear, adjusting the beanbag like you weren’t mentally jumping on him. Then, suddenly, you spun around, dramatic as ever:

“I’ve decided. I want to ask five questions!”

He laughed quietly, from the gut. And felt the knot of tension loosen a little.

There was something so ridiculous and funny about you that, for the first time, he almost felt... comfortable.

“You didn’t have any questions a second ago.”

“White lie. For a good cause.”

He sank deeper into the beanbag, one leg bent, the other stretched out. Hoodie string still between his teeth, faking nonchalance, eyes sharp and alert. Then he motioned with his hand.

“Go on. Shoot.”

"How do those ears stay upright? Are you controlling them right now?" you asked, staring at the white-and-brown-speckled ears.

Hee narrowed his eyes. “They’re muscles. And no, I’m not. They’re on natural alert.”

"So are you, like, wild in the woods, or do you feel okay around humans?" you asked, watching him chew on the hoodie string, thinking he looked pretty uncomfortable, or maybe just not used to human spaces.

“Depends. Around certain humans... I’m starting to relax.”

"Earlier, were you staring because you were looking for flaws or because you liked what you saw?"

Heeseung’s eyes widened. Silence. Long silence. Then:

“I was staring because you seemed dangerous. And I’m not very disciplined when it comes to dangerous things.”

Your heart did a messy little somersault. You no longer knew if you wanted to test him... or just let him bite you.

He went back to chewing the string. Slower now. But still watching you.

You’re the kind of trouble I’ve always avoided, Hee thought. But if you’re my mistake... I might just let it happen.

It had only been two days.

Two. Days and Heeseung already felt at his limit. You were… too much.

Too bold, too loud, too unpredictable.

A miniature storm, a human creature seemingly born to irritate him to perfection.

She doesn’t do anything like the others.She doesn’t walk—she floats. She doesn’t talk—she teases. And she looks at me like she already knows everything, like she can read beneath my skin.

And then there were your habits. Tidying up the bathroom while he was still in it. Humming quietly while reading your obscene novels. Eating strawberries on the bed with your fingers, leaving them sticky.

And at night? You moved like you were dancing in the sheets. Your scent—soft, feminine, dangerous—clung to the pillow. He’d slept with a hoodie over his head just to block you out. This room is a minefield with pink walls and the scent of peach and vanilla.

That evening, he went out to play basketball just to let off steam.

He ran harder than usual, sweated more than necessary, and pushed his breath until his thoughts finally shut up.

He came back with damp temples, a soaked shirt, and jumped straight into a hot shower. He needed to calm down.

Water. Silence. No sexy, chaotic girl one meter away and that’s exactly when it happened.

While he was pulling on his grey sweatpants—boxers still visible, skin still damp—the door clicked open.

“Hey, have you seen my—”

You. Standing in the doorway. Hair a mess and curious eyes.

“What the—!” Heeseung barked, jumping to the side, heart racing. His tail shot straight up, then froze in a weirdly stiff position.

His ears? Total alert mode.

“ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!” he growled, covering his chest in a mechanical, panicked gesture.

You raised your eyebrows and stared at him like you were watching a particularly interesting scene from a movie you didn’t want to pause.

Golden abs. Sculpted lines. Warm, still-damp skin. Black boxers just peeking above his waistband. A necklace stuck to the hollow of his chest.

And that tail? A perfect mix of tenderness and disaster.

Delightfully awkward. But so sexy, my knees are shaking.

“Do humans not knock anymore? That is something they teach at school, right?” he snapped, his voice rough and a bit unsteady.

You feigned innocence, with that familiar glint of mischief that drove him crazy.

“I just needed one thing. My skincare. Chill.”

You walked past him slowly, deliberately, and while you grabbed the bottle from the shelf, you leaned in. Way too close on purpose.

You inhaled quietly, almost silently—but he noticed. Oh, he definitely noticed.

“Mmmh… you smell like musk, amber, and… rain.” Your eyes sparkled. “Animalistic and sweet. Like you stepped out of a wild fairytale.”

Heeseung froze.

Your voice was low. Your gaze locked on his a flash of a predator disguised as a good girl.

“Out,” he said sharply. But his red ears, frozen tail, and eyes drifting toward your lips told a very different story.

You winked. “Sure, boss.”And giggled on your way out.

Half an hour later.

Heeseung left the room in silence. He had changed—but it was too composed. Too controlled. The problem was, he wasn’t calm at all.

This makes no sense. She’s human. She’s not even my type. But… the way she looks at me. The way she moves. The way she breathes.

She touches me without ever touching me. She’s like a scent that gets into my brain and won’t leave.

And then he saw you. Sitting on the bed, legs crossed, striped pink shorts. Short. Too short and oversized sleep shirt, but it lifted slightly at the sides, revealing smooth skin underneath. And in your hands? A book. One of those pastel-covered ones with scandalous titles.

No. No. No. You’re ruining me, Hee thought. And I’m already falling apart.

You looked up from your book. And caught him instantly, the way you looked at him. Like you were reading him, not the pages. Like you knew exactly how much you were driving him insane.

The room was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of a desk lamp left on.

The bed was just big enough for two people pretending they didn’t want each other.

You were leaning back against the headboard, The Deal open in your lap, bare legs stretched out—one bent carelessly, causing your sleep shirt to ride up just enough to reveal the soft curve of your hip.

Heeseung was lying beside you, wearing nothing but a wrinkled black t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. His hair still damp from the shower, ears drooping a little from exhaustion, tail relaxed… but alert.

He couldn’t take it anymore, it had only been two days. Two, but this girl was chaos incarnate and that morning… that cursed moment in the bathroom…

Flashback.

He’d just finished his shower, towel over his head, boxers under gray sweats. He’d left the mirror fogged, feeling oddly vulnerable but strangely calm, when the door clicked open innocently.

It was you.

Your eyes locked on his still-wet abs, the droplets sliding down his chest.

Your gaze drifted down the golden skin, the waistband of his sweats hinting at Calvin Klein boxers underneath, and his tail frozen mid-lift.

He shot you a glare.

“Did no one ever teach you to knock? Or are you straight out of the Middle Ages?!”

“I just needed my night cream,” you answered, unfazed. “Also… oh my God, Hee. You smell like musk and rain. I swear, you could bottle that scent and sell it.”

You stepped closer. Brushed your fingers along his arm. Inhaled, softly.

Then, with a playful giggle: “Very… bedroom animal.”

Heeseung froze.

Was she flirting? Or is she just a completely unfiltered menace?

Why is my tail trembling?

Why did I dream of her curled up against me last night?

Back to now.

Hee couldn’t even focus on his phone. Your voice always distracted him—but tonight, especially…

“So, The Deal, huh?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

He was scrolling through TikTok, but every spicy fan art he saw made his brows furrow.

“You know it?”

“Saw it on the feed. Says it has… like, eight spicy chapters?”

“At least,” you answered proudly. “Wanna read it with me?”

“No thanks. I prefer sports anatomy textbooks.”

You laughed.

“You’ve already got the muscles, baby deer. Now you just need the emotional intelligence.”

He stared at you.

“Did you just say… baby deer?”

“Does it offend you?”

Hee nervously bit down on his hoodie string. A reflex. His thing.

Baby deer?! Who does she think she is? And yet… he didn’t move away. If anything, he shifted closer, onto his side.

“Show me those fanarts. People really post that online?”

You scrolled until you found one—an overly passionate illustration.

The couple tangled on a bed. Hands everywhere. Half-dressed. Eyes closed, tongues—

Hee frowned.

“Their… tongues. Are out. What exactly do you like about this?!”

“Everything. The contact, the tension, the repressed desire… the things left unsaid.”

“You’re all insane.” You moved even closer, book in hand.

“Want me to read you a part?”

“No.” You did it anyway. Your voice was a slow whisper. Hypnotic.

“He kissed her with a hunger that couldn’t be hidden. His body, all muscle and want, pressed into hers as his hands lifted her. Their mouths fit together like keys and locks.”

Heeseung blushed, he sat up, shooting you a sharp look.

“This isn’t healthy. Reading stuff like that isn’t healthy.”

“And yet you like it. I can see it. Your tail’s giving you away.”

He turned away, muttering something under his breath. You giggled and, in a velvet-soft voice:

“Want me to tie you up, Hee?”

Time stopped. He spun around, eyes wide. His tail thumped against the mattress. Ears alert.

“WHAT?!”

“You heard me. You. Me. Knot.” Silence. A deep breath.

“You’re not my type.” You clutched your chest dramatically.

“Oh no. My ego. Shattered. A divine creature with pointy ears just broke my heart.” You flopped back with a theatrical sigh.

He glanced at you sideways—and in his eyes, a flicker. A crack in the armor.

She’s not my type. But when she talks like that… when she looks at me like that… why does it feel like I’m already hers?

He moved closer. Slowly. Positioned himself over you, arms bracing his weight. His knees on either side of your hips. His eyes locked on yours.

“You want to be tied up?”

“Only if you do it.”

His hands settled on your waist.

“You’re… soft,” he whispered.

“Wanna touch more?”

“…Yeah.”

He only realized he’d said it out loud after the words slipped. He leaned down. Nuzzled into your neck. A slow inhale. A gentle lick. His hips pressed to yours.

“You smell like peaches. And… danger.”

You laughed softly. “And you smell like: I’m losing control but pretending I’m fine.”

Hee buried his face in your neck, his hair tickling your skin.

If you tease me one more time… I’m not responsible for what happens.

It had been almost two months since classes started.

Two months of sharing a room with Heeseung — the moodiest, messiest, and unintentionally sexy deer hybrid on campus.

Two beds. One fate.

The second bed had arrived after a week.

You’d argued, like literal children, over which one was “your” bed.

You insisted on keeping the one you’d shared during the first nights.

Heeseung had growled through clenched teeth (a ridiculous sound for a half-deer, honestly), and ended up dragging himself to the new bed, shooting you a dark glare as he curled up under the covers.

“You’re insane. Sleep over there. Don’t invade my side tonight.”

And yet… he slept.

You didn’t, six nights out of seven, you waited until his breathing slowed.

Then you’d sneak into his bed, cold legs sliding under his. Curling up and in his sleep… he’d always pull you close.

Of course, mornings came with consequences.

“This is a full-on violation of personal space,” he’d grumble, trying to peel your arm off him.

“Do you think I’m your personal heating pad just because I’m half-cervid?!” And while you got up with a smug little smile, he’d add, grumpily:

“You claim to be independent. Pretend to be a femme fatale. But at night, you cling like some overly affectionate leech.”

You’d laugh. Always. You loved teasing him. All day long: you tickled him with your pencil during study sessions, hid his beloved emo rings, and stole his oversized hoodies just to force him to stay in a t-shirt while you blatantly stared at those golden abs that never got to touch you.

Why not? Why didn’t he touch you? He’d said you weren’t his type.

That phrase had lodged itself in your brain like a pushpin.

But you knew you were the right type for anyone with a pulse.

Even for an emo deer-boy who gnawed on his hoodie strings and acted too cool for spicy books.

So that night, you had a plan. If Hee wouldn’t look at you the way you deserved, then you’d make sure he had no choice but to look.

You’d been in the bathroom for over an hour. Perfume. Light makeup.

That tiny black skirt barely brushing your thighs, a white camisole with a little bow — sweet enough, but just suggestive enough. A cropped leather jacket that framed your shoulders.

Shiny black boots. Hair long. Perfect.

When you opened the door, Hee was sitting at the desk. A muscle anatomy textbook was open in front of him. Glasses on. Ears drooped. Tail still. But as soon as the scent of cherries and amber filled the air, he froze.

His nose twitched. Nostrils flared. A subtle shiver ran down his spine.

God. That perfume. The one she wears when… she wants attention. And I… I’m a damn fool because I love it.

When he turned around, he saw you. Admiring yourself in the mirror by the door, adjusting the hem of your skirt. You were a vision. Sensual, free, in complete control. You caught his gaze for a second. Eyes locked. That wicked little smile.

“Well? Do I look good?”

Hee blinked. Mumbled something.

“Hmm? Didn’t hear you, Hee.” He dropped his eyes.

“I said… You look like a fanfiction protagonist. The kind who always ends up heartbroken.”

You laughed — delightfully bold.

“Oh, really? And here I was, heading out on a date.”

He stiffened. Slowly turned from his chair. His tail—motionless a second ago — started wagging. Gently. Then harder. You bit your lip. Perfect.

“With whom?”

His voice was flat. Too flat.

“A guy from the swim team.”

Heeseung scoffed and turned back to his book.

“Wow. How original. One of those puffed-up pecs, zero-braincell types.”

A pause. Then: “Have fun.”

“Oh, I will.” You stepped toward the door. “And don’t wait up. I might not come back tonight.”

Silence. Then, a sharp grunt. Low. Animal. Frustrated. As the door clicked shut behind you, Hee slammed the book closed, ran a hand down his face, and muttered through clenched teeth:

“Stupid… tease… with that tiny little skirt… if anyone puts their hands on her, I swear I’ll—” His tail was still wagging—a chaotic, jealous, panicked mess.

She’s not my type… so why do I dream of her every night? Why do I reach for her when she’s not there? Why do I miss her scent before she’s even gone?

Heeseung was still awake.

He was “studying,” at least on paper.

In reality, he’d spent the past two hours chewing on his hoodie string, those oversized glasses slipping down his nose, sweatshirt sleeves pulled over his hands, killing evil creatures online with Jake and Jungwon.

The only things filling the room were curses and the occasional burst of laughter and, every now and then, those too-long silences, when Hee would stare blankly into space, fingers resting on the controller, your scent still burned into his brain.

Cherry. And amber. Damn it.

Where the hell did you think you were going, dressed like that?

When you’d said “I might not come back tonight,” he’d laughed.

A little.

Faked it.

Now it was 1:30 a.m. and you still weren’t back. He’d cracked. Looked you up on Instagram. Just one story. A mediocre dish, a corner of the Han River, and then… You. Sitting, eyes downcast. Too beautiful. Too close to that idiot with the damp hair, trying to look sporty.

Did he touch her? Put a hand on her thigh? Try to kiss her?

He bit his cheek. Hard enough to taste blood.

Then — finally — the door opened and that scent came back.

Sweet. Intoxicating.

You.

He pretended not to notice. Kept laughing with Jake. Scoffed a half-hearted, “Come on, just hit him in the head, Jungwon,” even though he wasn’t even looking at the screen.

You saw him instantly. Legs crossed on the swivel chair, oversized hoodie, giant headphones, half-eaten ramen by the keyboard. Eyes sparkling, like nothing was wrong.

Pfft. Still awake. And then he lectures me, huh.

You walked over, arms crossed. Tired smile, sharp gaze.

“Not in bed yet?” you asked, tilting your head.

He didn’t answer.

Without warning, you pulled off his headphones — way too big for his deer-like head. Hee flinched, looked at you… and in those eyes was that mix of anxiety, relief, irritation — and something much deeper.

“What are you doing here?” he asked quietly.

You stared back. One brow raised.

Arms crossed, standing just inches from him.

“Does this look like the time to still be livestreaming while your brain cells evaporate? You know what’ll happen if you sleep through anatomy again tomorrow? More notes on your record. And I won’t let you copy mine.”

Jake and Jungwon chuckled through the headphones.

Hee mumbled something, but he wasn’t really listening to you.

He leaned in a little.

Too close. Too quiet. Then, barely brushing your ear:

“You stink.” You whipped your head toward him, face close, eyebrow raised, voice like a blade:

“Excuse me? Want to say that again?”

He smiled. That classic fake-innocent smile, the faint dimple, eyes lowering to hide how intense they were. He brought a hand to his nose. Inhaled. Slowly.

“You smell like something that isn’t you.”

A sudden, razor-sharp silence. Jake and Jungwon went quiet a click, like someone turned the emotional volume of the room all the way down.

Heeseung turned fully toward you, eyes glistening. Dark.

“Did he touch you?”

Your eyes widened. Disbelief.

“Sorry, what?”

“That swimmer guy.” His voice was commanding, but cracked with insecurity. “Did he touch you?” You didn’t answer. You just looked at him. Caught between confusion and something deeper.

And then he stood. Slowly. Not all the way, but just enough to seem taller, heavier, more… predatory. He leaned in slightly and in a low, guttural voice, almost a growl:

“Go change. Now.”

“…Excuse me?”

“I don’t want to smell that anymore. Not on you. Not in this room. Not in that bed. Got it?”

For the first time, you felt small.

Not weak — but diminished. Dwarfed by something bigger. Raw tension, feral and unfiltered. That tail that wasn’t wagging anymore. Dilated pupils. Tight jaw.

You swallowed. Slowly. Then turned, a sly smirk curling your lips.

“Mmh. What’s wrong, Hee? I’m not your type… but my scent only bothers you when it’s mixed with someone else’s?”

He bit his lip but said nothing because yeah — he’d just marked you.

With words.

Without even realizing it.

Or maybe, finally… on purpose.

He had won.

You admitted it with a dramatic sigh as you tossed your clothes into the washing machine and slipped into your pajamas.

The light tank top — the one that clung just enough to your chest.

The tiny shorts — barely there and then… his wrinkled grey shirt, still holding the scent of his pillow and the softness of too many nights spent sleeping too close.

If he’d won… why did it still feel like you were holding all the cards?

When you stepped out, bare feet on the wooden floor, the room was half-dark, lit only by the glow of the monitor. Hee was still turned toward the screen, headphones hanging around his neck, eyes dark and unfocused.

You approached. Gently rotated his chair and when he saw you — wearing his shirt, your scent beneath his, your bare legs, your gaze calm but daring...He shook his head.

Serious. Almost angry his voice low and rough: “Go. To. Bed.”

You smiled. Fearless and started walking… toward his bed. Slow, theatrical steps he didn’t react right away but as soon as your knee touched the sheets, he stopped you. His hand wrapped around your arm — instinctively.

“Your bed.” His voice was tenser now. Controlled. But fragile.

You giggled. His touch was light, but it burned on your skin.

“Oh, come on, Hee…” you whispered, a teasing smile on your lips.

You turned to face him, eyes wide and gleaming.

“You know I haven’t undressed for another guy in months, right?”

He clenched his jaw.

Let you go. But stayed there, standing, like you were some kind of threat.

“I… still feel everything.”

The words came out barely audible — a confession laced with frustration and truth.You raised an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong, Bambi?” you teased. “Jealous?” That one word: Jealous.

It was enough, Heeseung took a step toward you then another. Now he was too close, towering over you — tall, broad-shouldered, ears alert, tail still. He leaned down, his face inches from yours.

“Stop acting like a brat,” he murmured. The tone was sharp but his eyes… were chaos. You looked up at him. rose to your tiptoes.

Your hands slid under the hem of his hoodie.

“Then stop me.”

And before he could even process it, you pulled him toward you and kissed him. At first, it was just a touch. Your lips on his — soft, tentative a game but then…You felt him freeze.

Then give in.

His hands found your waist, his mouth trembled for a second then, slowly, moved with yours. His lips were soft, but uncertain you gave his lower lip a gentle nibble and he let out a low, muffled sound — almost a growl.

Then finally…His tongue he kissed you for real a deep, slow, consuming kiss. His hands slid just beneath the shirt — his shirt — and you could feel it: he was there.

Fully. Completely. Lost. You played with each other. You pulled him even closer. He pinned you against the edge of the bed, tongues exploring, testing, tangling like they never wanted to let go and then…He pulled away.

Stayed there. Breathing hard. Lips damp. Eyes dark as midnight.

“Don’t sleep with me,” he said, quietly.

You looked at him. Still breathless. Hands trembling.

“Heeseung…”

“Don’t sleep with me tonight.”

He said it, looking straight into your eyes, like an open wound he didn’t know how to hide.

Then, he turned away, switched off the light and you were left there.

Heart pounding.

Wearing his shirt.

And waiting for all the answers… that still wouldn’t come.

You were sitting on a blanket under a wooden gazebo on campus.

A cup of herbal tea in your hand, legs crossed, and the cool afternoon air carrying the scent of freshly cut grass.

T/l had her hair pinned up messily, a strawberry lollipop in her mouth, an oversized sweater that showed off her bare shoulders, a white skirt, and the faint scent of Sunghoon that somehow you could almost smell too.

“So you’re telling me… he hasn’t looked at her in a week?” she asked with a laugh.

You nodded, frustrated. “Nada. Not even a single insult about the human race or a passive-aggressive jab. He’s ice cold.”

T/l licked her lollipop. “Classic. He kissed you, so now he’s panicking.”

“But why? He likes me, it’s obvious. And anyway… it was a kiss, not a lifetime contract.”

She looked at you over the rim of her cup. Then lowered her voice:

“For a hybrid, it can be.”

Your eyebrow rose. You leaned in a little. “Wait. Explain. What’s this imprinting thing?”

T/l gave a softer smile. “Imprinting is… how to put it… the moment a hybrid’s body recognizes someone as theirs. Usually it happens between hybrids, because there’s instinctive compatibility. But sometimes… rarely, it happens with humans too.”

“And if it happens with a human?”

“It’s a mess. But also beautiful. Sunghoon imprinted on me.”

She showed you her wrist: a faint mark, like a pink shadow. “It’s like their body saying: this one is mine, I can’t ignore her anymore. And when it happens, often… comes the knotting.”

You swallowed slowly. “Okay. T/l. Now you have to explain this knotting thing properly.”

She laughed, then blushed a little. “I thought you’d heard about it from someone…”

“Never. Go all in. No mercy.”

She bit her candy and got comfortable, lowering her voice.

“Knotting is… a biological mechanism some hybrids have, especially those with stronger instincts. During sex, if the emotional bond is strong… and the instinct takes over… the hybrid’s penis can swell at the base, forming a knot. It’s meant to mark their partner. And to literally hold her together with him. You can’t separate for minutes. Sometimes for half an hour.”

Your legs involuntarily stuck together.

“You and Hoon…?”

She nodded, a bit embarrassed but smiling. “More than once. When it happens… it’s not like normal sex. It’s rougher. More intense. You hear the sounds, feel the vibrations in your chest, the need to stay inside even after it’s all over. It’s… like their bodies are repeating mine, mine, mine.”

You touched your lips, both uneasy and fascinated.

“Does it hurt?”

“The first time can sting a bit. But the body adapts in a weird way. Hybrids secrete a kind of natural lubricant during knotting. It’s a mix of pleasure and dizziness. You feel invaded. But you never want it to stop. Ever.”

“And them?”

“For them it’s a need. When they imprint… and knot… it’s like a drug. If you deny it, they suffer. But if you give in… they get addicted.”

“Wow.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. The thought of Heeseung in that situation hit you like a punch in the stomach.

“So if he knots me… I’m his.”

T/l looked at you seriously. “Yeah. Not just in bed. In your heart, too. You couldn’t touch anyone else. Not even he could. It would be like betraying each other physically. It’s primitive, but… it’s beautiful, if you trust him.”

Then she smiled again.

“Anyway… practical advice.”

“Tell me everything.”

“If you don’t want to end up with a mini-deer to take care of in nine months… take the anti-hybrid pill.”

You burst out laughing. “That’s a real thing?!”

“Oh yes. And trust me, it works. Hoon’s obsessed with knotting every chance he gets. I’m basically his human sedative.”

“Holy hell…” you sighed.

She laughed, then grabbed your hand.

“But if it scares you… don’t do it. Knotting isn’t a joke. If Heeseung did it, it’d be instinct. But also because he’s already decided you’re his.”

You stayed quiet for a moment.

Then whispered:

“I think I want it. But… I’m scared.”

T/l winked at you. “Then you’re already in trouble, sister.”

The rain drummed against the windows like nervous fingers. The thunder sounded like the beating of a heart too strong to stay in its place. You had just dried your hair and put on that gray hoodie of Heeseung’s—the one that smelled exactly like him: cherries, musk, skin, and something rough, primal.

When you came out of the bathroom, you found him there: hunched over the desk, pencil strokes sharp and restless. He was still studying muscles—a recent obsession—and had his glasses slid down his nose, hair falling to partly cover his speckled ears.

“Hey,” you said softly.

“Mhm. Hey,” he mumbled without turning around.

You bit your lip. There was a whole world you wanted to tell him, but you held back. It wasn’t the night for teasing. Or maybe it was, but not the way you usually did.

You settled on your bed, legs tucked under you, looking for something to watch, but your eyes kept drifting back to him every couple of minutes. To his broad back, the way his shoulder blades moved under his black hoodie, as if they held some restrained anger.

Then, without warning, you heard a “Fuck.”

Not too loud, but loaded.

You watched him get up, the chair scraping the floor. He went to the bathroom, washed his face—you could hear it—and came back. When he stepped out, his eyes fell on you. Or rather, on that hoodie.

“You’re officially stealing my entire wardrobe, huh?” he commented sarcastically, rubbing his neck.

You smiled faintly. “I like your style. And I love your scent… you stubborn hybrid.”

Heeseung grimaced but said nothing. He took a few steps, as if to head to his own bed, but stopped. That “fuck” still hovered on his lips, like he was battling something inside.

Then he turned and came to you.

He threw himself onto your bed.

Yours.

His hands gripped your thighs with confidence, spreading them with a single, natural, firm motion. He placed one of your legs on each side of his body, then let himself fall, his head resting on your belly, warm and heavy, as if it were his home. He set his laptop on your lower abdomen and opened Netflix.

You didn’t breathe for a few seconds. Your thighs were open, his face between your belly button and your chest, and his body stretched between your legs like it was the most natural thing in the world. He said nothing. But his tail—that damned tail—tapped softly, happily.

Like a moth, your hand moved. You touched his hair. Smooth, dark. Then his speckled ears, soft, trembling under your touch. You felt him relax beneath your fingers.

“Keep going,” he murmured, his voice muffled in his chest.

“You think I’m a mobile massage parlor now?” you teased him with a sweet, almost lullaby tone.

He laughed. A light, thin, human laugh. Then he moved up even closer, his face near your heart. One hand scratching the nape of his neck, the other caressing his cheek.

His skin was warm. Too warm.

For a moment, you thought he had fallen asleep, but his tail moved, alive, and his chest trembled when he spoke.

“I’m scared.”

Your hand froze. “Of what?” you asked softly.

A heartbeat of silence.

“Of myself. Of my hybrid side. Of you.”

Your eyes widened. “Of me?”

“Of your scent. It lingers on me. Burns my chest. And every night… every damn night… I just want to…” he stopped, clenching his jaw.

You brushed his ear with your nose, whispering: “Want to what, Hee?”

He lifted his face, his doe-like eyes dark and shiny. “I want to forget that you’re not one of us. That you’re human. That if I knot you… I’ll lose you. Or ruin you.”

Thunder exploded outside. But inside the room, the only things that echoed were your breath and his.

And you, with your head spinning and your belly warm, answered him with nothing more than a soft kiss on the forehead.

Heeseung looked confused. Sitting between your legs, his chest rising and falling too fast, his ears trembling forward, tense, and his tail moving frantically jerky behind him. He stared at you as if you were shining, as if he could not decide whether to adore you or run away. But then he took a step. Literal. He knelt between your hips and leaned over you, his nose touching your skin, and began to smell you. Plane. Hungry.

"Hee… What are you doing?" you whispered, with a smile. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, his face getting lost in your neck.

"I remember you. I hear you everywhere … on the neck, between the thighs, you are… you're so hot…" He kissed you softly under the ear, then further down, along the collarbone.

"Do you have any idea how crazy you are driving me? I hear everything. Even your smell changes when you get excited… " His hands rested trembling on your thighs, but it was his body that betrayed him: the veins under the skin, the nails little sharper, the muscles tense under that puppy shyness.

You shoved your fingers through his hair, and his ears lowered slowly, trembling. "You have no idea, right?" murmur. "Than you are when you're good … but also when you seem to be on the verge of losing control."

He stiffened. He looked at you with those dark, shiny eyes. "I never… knotted. Never made love like that. But with you, I hear things I don't understand. I want… I want to be inside you. But not only that. I want to let myself in, brand you with my perfume. Make you mine."

The tone was deeper. Crude. Wild. You gasped. He was talking to you in that rough voice that came from an instinct rather than a technique. You grabbed his sweatshirt and lifted it a little, letting a glimpse of the pale skin of his belly. "And what are you waiting for?" you murmur.

"Make me yours. Brand me. Fill me up, Hee. I want to be your first … and your favorite." He almost moaned, his tail wagged. He made you lie down with firm pressure on your belly, then he put himself on top of you, one knee sticking between your already hot legs. His sweatshirt still covered you, but you felt his erection press against you. His hands trembled, but he managed to slip under the fabric and meet your bare breasts. His fingers were cold, a contrast that made you wince.

"Fuck … even without a bra… these are all for me?" he whispered, his voice cracked. Then he stared into your eyes, more authoritarian. "Raise your arms. And no whims." You obeyed, giggling. "But how much you like to command, Hee…"

"Shut up." He took off your sweatshirt, sniffed it before throwing it away. "I want to hear from you tomorrow. You and your smell … mix with mine. No one else can touch you. Never."

Then he ducked. The tongue settled on your breast, the muzzle rubbed like a puppy seeking comfort and desire simultaneously. He began to suck you, lick you, play with his nipples with a rough tongue and delicate teeth, alternating worship and light bites. You grabbed him by the ears — soft, vibrating- and pulled them slowly, making him emit a downward, almost a gentle growl. "Still…" whisper. "Show me how much you want me, Hee."

Heeseung kept kissing your breasts with increasing hunger. He licked, sucked, nibbled at your turgid nipples as if they were nectar for him, while his hands caressed your hips with almost desperate impatience. His breathing became more labored, and every now and then he let out a choked groan, a downward, throaty sound — an animal sound, vibrating directly from his ribs. You instinctively rubbed against his knee, seeking clutch, and that gesture made him growl. Literally. A low, rough, deep sound that made his chest vibrate against yours.

"Little doe in heat…" he hissed, and his eyes became darker, shinier. "Do you know how cheeky you are? I don't know if it turns me on or if I want to put you in your place." "Why not both?" you giggled, and looked at him from below up, his eyes defiant. "It's so good to see you lose control…"

He bit his lip, his ears lowered with desire, his tail waving furiously behind him. His vehement, veinous hands slipped on your sides and squeezed you hard, as if to punish you. Then he ducked down, pulled down your pajama pants, and made a theatrical pout. "Panties already wet?" he laughed softly.

"Then, while pretending to look at the PC… were you thinking of me? Huh? Maybe already ready for my knot…" "Hee!" you admonished him, but the tone trembled, too excited to be credible. "Shut up…" he whispered, and with a firm gesture, he pulled off your panties, holding them for a moment between his fingers before throwing them aside. Then he lowered his face between your thighs. Its odoriferous glands, hidden behind your neck and near your temples-activated as soon as you smell your natural scent. That pure, excited smell of yours drove him crazy. A low sound escaped him, like a starving verse. His hands opened your legs, and he dived on you with his tongue as if he had found the center of his world.

"Mmmh… You're sweet…" he muttered between licks. "I want you… all…" His tongue became more precise, sharper. He sucked your clit hard, with rhythm. You screamed, arching your back as his hair tickled your belly and inner thighs, while her hot breath drove you as crazy as her lips.

"Hee! Oh God, yes… more! Want… I want more!" He barely lifted, his lips moist, his ears flickering. "You want everything? You want me to get bored?" He looked at you with that scary, sweet intensity. "Then get ready. You have to take my fingers. If you can… then maybe you can take my knot too. And become mine. Mine." You nodded, breathless, and spread your legs even more. When you felt his first finger come in, hot and thick, you moaned loudly. He looked at you as if you were revealing a secret, his mouth ajar, while his finger explored you slowly, and then with more pace.

"Feel how tight you are…" he whispered in a low, dark tone. "God, you are perfect. So wet for me…" He added a second finger and then began to pump into you with deep and decisive movements. You clung to the sheet, screaming his name as the pleasure overwhelmed you. And he degraded you with animalistic sweetness, kissing you between the legs and whispering to you: "Be good… I want to see you all shake before I give you everything. I want to hear you squeeze me, suck me inside you. Are you ready for me, baby?"

Without saying anything, he pushed a third finger into you. The enlargement was intense, his hot and thick fingers filled you with firm pressure that made you moan loudly. Your body instinctively arched, your thighs trembling under the growing pleasure. " I'm coming!" you gasped, clutching the sheet between your fingers. He giggled, lowering his face between your legs again. "Let me see. I want to watch you come for me. I want to feel your essence on my tongue…"

With his tongue, he began to lick you greedily, then gently bit your clitoris, making you wince. You grabbed his hair, pulling it, but he did not stop. He kept sucking on you, pushing his fingers inside you, until your body stretched all over and you moaned loudly, trembling as you came between his lips.

He did not stop even then. He licked you as if he wanted to dry you up, savor you to the last drop, his nose sunk against you, his ears trembling with pleasure. When he finally retracted, he slid his fingers out of your cunt and looked at them, wet, shiny.

He slowly brought them to your mouth, tasting you with a deep sigh. "God … you are my favorite flavor." You stared at him with wide eyes, still panting, while he picked up a handkerchief, and you both cleaned up with small, thoughtful gestures. Then, with almost tender attention, he put his pajama pants back on you, his fingers touching your skin with respect, and you threw a questioning, somewhat spoiled look at him.

"Not tonight …" he muttered, his voice broken by a thousand emotions. "I don't want to hurt you. I want to get to know you better. Inside, outside. Every part." "Hee … you look like a good boy now," you teased him sweetly, with a smile. He just laughed and hugged you from behind. He wrapped you with strong arms and then took off his sweatshirt, letting you feel the heat of his naked body against your back. His chest was solid, the warm breath caressing the nape of your neck. A shudder passed through you.

"I want you. Always, " he whispered. "But if I annoy you… I won't be able to stop anymore. I'm not a good guy. I'm just a guy who wants to protect you from himself." Then he began to move slowly against you. His pelvis rubbed your butt in a slow, painful petting. His hands gripped your hips with force, holding you still as his breathing became heavier, almost animalistic.

"Do you feel it?" he murmured in your ear, pressing his groin against you. Its member, hard and pulsating, pressed against your thin pants. "This is my control. But it's ending. And when that happens, you'll be mine." You giggled, barely turning your face to brush his cheek with your lips. "Then train yourself to lose it, Hee. Because I want you to take… all of me." His groan was smothered against your shoulder, and for a moment he trembled. The tail wagged loudly behind him, as he continued to move against you with maddening slowness.

It had been a few weeks since you had discovered each other. Since you had stopped holding back your desire. Now, every evening ended with the two of you wrapped up in the same comforter, with Hee curling up against your back, his tail occasionally brushing your thigh as he slept. Sometimes he would wake up in the middle of the night and hold you tighter, whispering things half-asleep. And you would smile, even in your sleep.

One evening, with soft light filling your room and a fine rain tapping against the windows, he looked at you with a different kind of attention. Quiet. Then, as if facing a small fear of his own, he stood up and transformed.

His figure became leaner, muscles more elongated, his skin dappled with pale spots, ears larger, eyes even deeper and sweeter. And that tail... soft, alive, trembling.

"You're... beautiful," you whispered. "You look like something out of a poem. Something that shouldn't even exist. And yet here you are. With me."

Hee lowered his ears a little, as if shy. "I've never shown this to anyone like this... not for this long. I was always afraid of looking too different."

"But you are different… and that’s what makes you special," you replied, moving closer to caress his cheek, tracing the pattern of his spots with a finger. "And besides... I’m different too. Maybe too outspoken sometimes. Spoiled. But..."

You sat down next to him, legs crossed, eyes lowered. "Sometimes I act that way because... I didn’t get much love. Not at home, not anywhere. It’s easier to be loud than to let myself be seen as fragile."

He didn’t answer right away. He took your hand in his, fingers knotted and full of rings you had come to know well, and placed it over his chest.

"I, on the other hand, received a lot of love. A big, loud, affectionate family. But also full of expectations. They wanted me to stay an animal more often. They wanted me... wilder. But I wanted to try living like humans. I wanted to know what it’s like to have friends, to play, to study, to laugh."

He paused, then smiled. "And I’m glad I did. Because that’s how I met Jake, Hoon, Jay, Jungwon, Sunoo, Ni-Ki… and you."

Your throat tightened, but in a good way. You looked at him tenderly.

"Do you remember our first date?" you asked, breaking the emotion with a sly little smile.

He laughed, his ears twitching slightly. "The ramen by the Han River? And you burning your tongue on the first bite?"

"And you ordering extra spicy and then crying silently for five minutes!" you shot back, laughing.

"I wasn’t crying… they were controlled tears!" he said in a mock-serious tone, but then he laughed too.

"And then you taught me to play basketball..." you continued, raising an eyebrow. "If you can call it ‘teaching’ to throw a ball at the hoop while I clung to your arm laughing like a maniac."

"I knew you were a lost cause," he murmured, leaning in to brush your lips with a tender kiss. "But you were so happy that... I wanted to teach you just to see you laugh."

He held you tightly in his arms. You stayed there, in the silence of the moment, with the sound of rain and the beating of your hearts.

"You’re good for me, Hee," you whispered. "You make me feel like, for the first time… I’m truly seen."

"And you... make me feel free to be who I am. Whether that’s an awkward deer... or a boy who wants you so much, he’s afraid he won’t know how to stop."

You were there, in front of the mirror, the warm light of the room caressing your skin. A black skirt that hugged your hips, a white top that highlighted your curves, your usual brown leather jacket draped over your shoulders, and boots that softly clicked on the floor with every step. You snapped a few photos with your phone, partly for fun, partly to tease him.

Behind you, Hee was sitting on the bed. An oversized black hoodie with some unreadable writing, loose jeans hanging on his hips in that way only he could pull off, messy hair, and shiny rings on his fingers. He looked up at you with those long, glossy eyes—like a lovestruck and frustrated fawn.

“Are you… taking pictures of yourself for me?” he asked, half ironic, half serious. “I’m documenting how irresistible I am,” you replied, winking at him. “Because tonight, Hee, we’re going to our first university party. And you’re coming with me.”

He got up slowly, letting out a half-exasperated sigh. He went to his chair, grabbed a black coat with some emo details, and twisted it between his hands. “You know I’m embarrassed… there will be other hybrids. And humans. Who will be looking at you.”

“It’s just a party,” you murmured, fixing your hair. “And besides… you’ll be there. There’s nothing to look at that isn’t already yours.” That’s when he came closer to you. His hands slid behind you, slipping under your skirt, pressing firmly on your buttocks. He pulled you against him, his pelvis already hard, warm, nervous.

“I’d have much more fun… if we stayed home,” he whispered against your neck, his voice hoarse. “Just you and me. No other eyes on you.” You could feel him vibrating. His ears trembled slightly, his tail flicking behind. He was tense, sweet and sharp pheromones starting to wrap around you like an invisible veil.

“You’re so territorial, Hee…” you whispered, barely turning your head to look at him. “And you haven’t even knotted me yet.” He growled softly, just a little, against your skin. “Not yet. But I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

Then he pushed you against the wall next to the mirror. His hands grabbed you firmly, and he kissed you. A long, warm, open, hungry kiss. His tongue searching for yours, his teeth gently nibbling your lip with an animalistic delicacy.

“Mmh… I want more attention, Hee. I want tongue. I want those kisses of yours that make me forget where I am,” you whispered between breaths, with a bold tone. “Bold,” he muttered, burying his face in your neck. He licked you gently, then bit you right at the most sensitive spot, marking you with firm pressure. He couldn’t mark you with his scent from the knot… yet, but he still wanted everyone to know. You almost laughed, excited. “Are you afraid someone else will ask me before you do?” “I’m just… protecting what’s mine.”

You looked at him with a smirk. “Then do it well. Put me in my place, if you can.” He stared at you with those eyes that seemed darker, almost feral, but the blush on his cheeks betrayed him. He wasn’t ready to push you all the way yet, but he wanted it with all his being. “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” he murmured, stroking your inner thigh. “When I knot you… it won’t be for fun. It will be to keep you mine. Forever.”

The music pulsed through the walls of the house, a sensual electronic mix that made the floor vibrate. The strobe lights reflected off the glasses and the slightly tipsy smiles of the students. You, stunning in your little skirt and white top that accentuated your curves, were dancing with Hoon’s girlfriend, who was already swaying lightly with you, laughing and sipping from a plastic cup.

On the opposite side of the room, Hee stood with his hands in his pockets, his dark hoodie a bit too warm for the crowded space, his deer ears trembling faintly.

Sunghoon watched him from above the rim of his glass, then raised an eyebrow. 'Brother… if you keep looking at her that way, you’ll tie her up with your gaze.'

Hee didn’t laugh. “It’s not funny.”

'Oh, but it is.' Sunghoon patted his shoulder. 'Look at my girl. Bored with me, but knotted. No idiot can try anything. But you…' He turned to stare at the dance floor. 'You left the door wide open. It’s obvious some other curious male wants to come in.'

Hee growled softly but said nothing.

Meanwhile, a boy approached you. Tall, with feline eyes—a hybrid, probably wolf or tiger. His scent was spicy, different from Hee’s sweet and woody perfume.

-Are you new around here?- he asked, coming close enough for you to feel the heat of his breath.

You smiled politely. “No, just not very interested in parties.”

-Well, then it’s lucky you’re here tonight. You know… you’re incredibly beautiful. You have a special energy. I can’t take my eyes off you.- He leaned in, his mouth a breath away from your ear. -I’d like to find out if beneath that good-girl act there’s someone who knows how to have fun… even off the dance floor.-

You were about to reply with a sharp comment when you felt something familiar: a firm hand pressing on your lower back, cold with rings. A second later, your body was yanked back against a warm, tense chest.

Heeseung.

His scent enveloped you immediately—sweet, musky, intense, with an animal undertone that made your head spin. His breath was deep, tense.

“She’s mine,” he said quietly, without even looking at the other boy. His eyes were only for you. The other hybrid took a half-step back, hands raised.

-Hey… okay. Chill, bro.- He disappeared right after.

You turned, still with your hands on Hee’s chest. “Hey,” you gently scolded. “What’s all this?”

“Stop acting like a brat.” His ears twitched slightly, and his tail flicked.

“Brat? I was just dancing. He was the one flirting with me.”

“And the only guy allowed to flirt with you… is me.”

You looked him straight in the eyes. “But you don’t know how to flirt with me, Hee.”

He frowned. “What?”

“You don’t know how to tease me. You don’t know how to play. You’re just a jealous deer.”

His face stiffened, then he turned abruptly. “Then watch and learn.”

He took a step toward a group of girls, but you didn’t give him even a second. You grabbed his wrist and pulled him back hard. Then you kissed him.

It wasn’t a sweet kiss. It was yours. Tongue, teeth, hands in hair. His breath caught against your mouth, and you heard him moan softly, trembling under your fingers.

His pheromones exploded like an invisible wave, mixing with yours. Some people turned to look. Sunghoon, from afar, raised his hands as if to say “finally.”

When you broke apart, your eyes sought his, your forehead against his.

“I kissed you in front of everyone,” you whispered. “That means I’m yours. And you’re mine.”

Hee looked shaken, his mouth reddened, ears lowered. He looked at you as if he couldn’t believe he had you.

Then you added, in a softer voice against his ear: “And I want to be knotted. By you.”

It was like flipping a switch. The low, animalistic growl that came from his chest made your legs tremble. His fingers squeezed your hips as his breathing became more uneven.

“Let’s go home,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

“I want to go home too,” you replied.

He grabbed your wrist urgently, never taking his eyes off you. And without another word, you left the party behind, amid glances and whispers.

When you returned home, the door hadn’t even closed behind you.

Hee gently but firmly pushed you against the wall. His hands, ringed and strong, grabbed your hips as if he needed to make sure you were real, that you were there—his. His breath was warm, restless, his forehead pressed against yours.

“It’s your fault,” he growled in a low, rough tone that almost vibrated in his throat. His deer ears trembled slightly, and his tail flicked nervously behind him. His pheromones were everywhere, enveloping, thick in the air. “My aura... my hybrid part... is exploding. And there you are, all perfect, with your little red panties, like a cheeky brat...”

You lightly pulled his hair, lifting your chin, eyes sparkling, voice cheeky. “Are you really sure that’s a problem?”

“Stop it...” he whispered, but it wasn’t a real warning. It was a plea.

His hand quickly slid under your skirt and stopped just beneath the waistband of your panties. He could feel how wet you were. His gaze darkened, deepened. He smiled crookedly, dangerously.

“So fragile down here, and so cheeky with your mouth...” he murmured.

He yanked your skirt off, ignoring your fake protests. When he saw the red lingerie set, his eyes widened and he whispered as if discovering a secret: “You wore this for me, didn’t you? You know red drives me crazy…”

He knelt before you, his nose just inches from your warm skin, and his face rested against the fabric of your panties. He took a deep, slow breath, like an animal that found its place. His scent glands pulsed against your bare thighs, and he trembled slightly.

“God, your scent... it destroys me. It’s only yours and mine now. No one else’s.”

With his teeth, he took the edge of your panties and slowly slid them down, with almost ferocious patience. He kissed your inner thigh, leaving small bites, occasionally murmuring something that sounded like half a prayer, half a threat.

He stroked you lightly with one finger, just on your clitoris, and you looked at him, moaning softly, grabbing your top and pulling it down yourself, revealing the matching bra.

“Good girl...” he whispered. “You’re all mine tonight. Actually, from now on.”

He picked you up in his arms, with a strength you’d never felt from him before, and carried you to the bed. He laid you down, his knees on either side of your thighs. His tongue made slow fiery circles on your body. When he reached your center, his fingers moved with confident patience.

“You’re so hot... so ready. And I...” He raised his gaze, his ears trembling wildly. “...I can’t stop anymore.”

“Hee...” you gasped. “Keep going...”

“You deserve it... every inch of my control you’re destroying.”

He penetrated you with two fingers, strong and slow, while licking you fiercely and attentively. Your hips moved on their own against him, and every time you moaned, he moaned with you.

His breath was warm, rough, and when he rose over you, finally shirtless, bringing your forehead to his, he whispered against your lips:

“I want you... I want you madly. I want to sink inside you. Tie you. Fill you. Make you mine in every way. Inside. Outside. Forever.”

You grabbed his hips, naked beneath him, looking at him with watery eyes and short breath. And you whispered:

“Then do it. Take me. Tie me. Make me yours.”

And that’s when Hee stopped holding back.

He moaned loudly, biting his lip, as his hybrid form fully manifested—trembling ears, wild tail, and a primal desire pushing him closer and closer to losing control.

You pulled down his pants, then his boxers, leaving him naked and hard, his erection taut and throbbing. You looked at him as if savoring the most anticipated feast of your life.

“Are you ready, Hee?” you whispered in a sweet but sharp tone. “Ready to get dirty for me? To lose control? Because I’m ready to take all of you.”

He ran a hand through his hair, visibly nervous but no longer awkward. It was as if he was standing at the edge of a cliff he wanted to jump off.

“This is the first time that… that I want to tie someone,” he said softly. “And the first time that… I feel like I can’t hold back. Did you take the anti-hybrid pill?”

You nodded, looking him straight in the eyes. “Yes. And I want you to do it. All of it.”

He trembled visibly. His gaze flickered between adoration and need. But he still didn’t move, as if he needed one last confirmation, or maybe… reassurance.

You brushed his side gently, then placed a light kiss on his swollen, warm, pulsing “grip.” “Everything will be fine, Hee. I want you just as you are. Wild, tender, dirty. Mine.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

“You won’t. I want to feel you inside me. I want you to lose control, with me. You don’t have to hold back.”

His body trembled with emotion, but his gaze was steady, intense. He moved closer to you, aligning his body with yours, and for a moment you stayed there, skin against skin, hearts beating like tribal drums.

“Then let me… lose myself in you.”

Your fingers wrapped around his hard, throbbing member, guiding it slowly toward your wet center. You dragged it just over your clitoris, rubbing it with slow, deliberate strokes. He moaned softly the moment he felt it, breath broken, ears trembling. The heat of your skin was burning him.

“Tease my lips… slowly…” you murmured, eyes fixed on his.

Hee obeyed, pushing only the mushroom tip between your vaginal lips, brushing against you, letting his pearly fluid mix with your already warm juices. Then he made small thrusts, brief but loaded with tension, as if every movement was a whispered prayer through clenched teeth.

“Ah… Hee…” you gasped, your hands rising to grab his chubby, sensitive ears. You tugged them gently.

He moaned but immediately warned you with a muffled growl: “Stop it, or I’ll show you how dangerous a deer can be.”

His voice was hoarse, dark, a thread of control about to snap. But you didn’t stop. You smiled mischievously, and it was that smile that made him lose balance.

With one fluid, hungry motion, he pushed fully inside you.

You screamed, pleasure crashing over you like a sudden warm wave. Your legs tightened around his hips, as if never wanting to let him go.

“Hee... you’re… all in…” you gasped, your head falling back.

You felt him swollen, hard, warm, already filling you with his pulsing excitement inside your pussy. It was so deep you could feel yourself trembling inside. He gasped with his forehead resting against your neck.

“You’re so tight…” he murmured, voice broken by ecstasy. “My beautiful girl... you’re all mine, right?”

You nodded, scratching the nape of his neck with your nails. “All yours. Move inside me. I want to feel every part of you.”

At first, he moved slowly, with short, shy thrusts, as if making sure you were okay.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, voice thin and tense.

“No… I want more,” you whispered, then louder: “Give me everything, Hee. Push hard. I want to come again. Tie me. Break me.”

Something in him ignited. His ears pricked up, tail whipped fast, sharp. His eyes darkened, and in an instant he was no longer the clumsy, shy deer. He was a hybrid—feromones and instinct, flesh and desire.

He grabbed your hips and started thrusting hard, pounding into you, hitting deep, deeper and deeper.

“Yes… yes… fuck, Hee, there…” you screamed, voice broken, strangled. “You’re driving me crazy… you’re filling me up, damn it, don’t stop…”

He moaned with every thrust, breath ragged, animalistic, as he leaned over you, hips smashing into yours with growing force.

“You’re so hot…” he growled, “so wet… I’m losing it… I want to fill you, tie myself inside you, want no one else to ever have you…”

And then—with a deeper thrust than the others—he hit your G-spot. You screamed his name, trembling, eyes wide open.

“Yes… there… Hee… there! I’m… I’m gonna—fuck, yes!”

“What’s this, my good girl feeling heat inside, hmm?” he whispered with an emo-boy smirk, voice thick, as he kept pounding you with slow but powerful strokes. “Can’t think anymore, huh? Did I melt your brain, baby?”

“Yes… yes, damn it… you melted me completely. Keep going. Never stop.”

The heat you felt inside wasn’t just desire: it was something primal. Alive. Pulsing. It was Hee’s body heat claiming you, inch by inch, as if he was writing his name inside you with every thrust.

“Do you feel it?” he murmured, his hoarse voice in your ear. “It’s my heat… my cock making you mine.”

And you felt it. You felt his member sliding deeper and deeper, as if it would never end. You felt your belly react, stretching slightly with every hit, every thrust that hit you full on. And then you felt it: the knot. That living, sensitive mass swelling slowly, at first like a gentle pressure, then increasingly invasive, visceral.

“Hee…” you gasped, breath broken. “I-it’s happening… I feel it… it’s swelling…”

“Shh… let it in,” he whispered with that fake bad boy tone, just cracked by a tremor of animal emotion. “Let me tie every part of you.”

His thrusts grew faster, deeper. His hips hammered you with growing force, and as he moved, he degraded you in that way only he could: sweet voice but loaded with lust, sharp as a thin blade.

“Look how you take it… so tight. A good girl, but with a pussy begging to be filled. What is it, do you like being so full?”

You stammered, heat rising to your throat. “It’s… too much… it’s hot, Hee, you’re… you’re stretching me… inside…”

“Oh, we’re not done yet,” he murmured, taking one of your legs and placing it on his shoulder. Deeper now, tighter.

“Let’s see if you really can be… my good girl,” he growled softly, “the one who takes it all, even the knot. All the way in.”

You felt his knot pulse more and more firmly, alive inside you. It was locking you, nailing you, binding you. And his cock kept filling you, slow but relentless, in a gesture that meant more possession than sex.

Then he took your hand in his and brought it to your belly. The skin tight. Warm. Vibrant.

“Do you feel it?” he whispered with a small smirk. “It’s right there inside. My knot. It’s binding you to me… and you want it, you want it bad.”

“Yes…” you almost shouted, breath broken by rising pleasure. “I want to come… I want to come with you inside… I want to come on your cock…”

He looked at you with dark, feverish eyes. And that crooked emo boy smile spread across his lips.

“Look how you’re trembling. You’re so beautiful when you lose control. So good when you let me fuck you.”

Then he lowered his free hand, and with his thumb he started torturing your clitoris, slow but firm circles, wet with your own juices. His hip thrusts grew rougher, hungrier, while the knot swelled more and more.

“Come for me, damn it. I want to feel you gush on my cock. Fill me, baby. Dirty the sheets for me.”

It was too much. You melted against him with a scream that almost emptied your lungs. Your juices flowed hot and liquid around his cock trapped inside you, and you felt every contraction, every spasm, as his knot pulsed, swollen inside your belly. He was binding you, marking you, loving you in the most animal and true way.

Hee trembled, panting over you, then looked at you as if he couldn’t believe what he was experiencing.

“You’re amazing… so full…” he murmured, kissing you fiercely. “Your belly is swelling thanks to me. You’re mine.”

His thrusts, initially chaotic, grew slower… but so deep they tore a broken moan from you. It was as if Hee was learning your body step by step, discovering where to press, how to sink in to make you truly tremble.

“It’s too much…” you gasped, clutching him, “…but I want to feel full of you.”

He lowered his gaze, dark eyes framed by long lashes, and smiled with that typical fake-innocent look. Then he shook his head, scattering your thoughts with a few softly whispered words:

“So good when you beg. You’re my dirty girl, the one who knows what she wants… and now she wants me.”

He cupped your face in his hands, looking at you with a tenderness that only fueled your excitement more. But behind that sweetness, there was a wild desire breaking every dam. He leaned toward you, voice hoarse:

“You don’t know how much I dreamed of seeing you like this. Open for me, ready to take everything… even my wildest side.”

His thrusts grew hungrier, breath heavier. And when he slid one of your legs over his shoulder, you felt completely exposed, vulnerable and powerful at the same time. He moaned softly, almost choking on his words:

“I want you… all of you. I can’t hold back anymore.”

Then, with a decisive movement, he pushed all the way in. A low moan escaped his lips as his body trembled and the knot locked inside you, filling you completely. You moaned, your head thrown back, while a warm wave coursed through your entire belly.

It was as if he was writing his name inside you.

Hee bent over you, his sweaty forehead brushing yours, and whispered, voice breaking:

“You’re… incredible. So tight… so mine. I never want to let you go.”

Your body trembled, skin on fire, and you couldn’t hold back anymore. You clung to him, to his shoulders, to his voice.

“Hee… you’re tying me to you… I can feel it… inside.”

“You are,” he whispered, kissing you through your gasps of pleasure. “And you couldn’t be more beautiful.”

He stayed there, still inside you, while the knot pulsed slowly, marking every beat of his bond with you. His forehead rested on your shoulder, and he kissed your collarbone with adoration. No rush. No distance. Just the two of you, entwined in a silence that said everything.

Then, when his breath steadied and the knot slowly loosened, he stroked the inside of your thigh gently, almost worshipfully. He looked at you, pupils still dilated, and whispered in a soft voice:

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever touched.”

He smiled tiredly, eyes sweet but still burning.

“Now sleep, love. I’ll take care of you.”

And as he held you tight, you truly felt there was nothing to fear. He was there. With you. For you. And, for the first time, completely yours.

The morning light filtered through the poorly drawn curtains, and it was the gentle tickle of his nose against your neck that fully woke you up. Hee was curled up against your back, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist as if he truly feared you might disappear at any moment.

His deer ears trembled softly against the pillow, still sensitive and damp from that hybrid part that had exploded in intensity the night before. You could feel his warm, close breath. And when you slowly turned around, with a small smile on your still-tired lips, you found his eyes waiting for you.

Big, liquid eyes, with that shy Bambi-like reflection — but inside shone something more: adoration. And a little fear.

His cheeks immediately flushed red, as if the perfectionist Hee had returned — the one who remade the bed twice and blushed from a prolonged look. But you ruffled his hair gently, and he pouted adorably, shrugging.

“How are you?” he asked in a low voice, almost a whisper.

You giggled, still nestled under his arm. “I’m good... actually, great. It was wonderful to see you like that... lost. So yours. Feeling your knot inside me that... kept tightening more and more...”

The look you gave him made him almost moan from embarrassment, but also from the memory that phrase had awakened in his senses.

Hee held you tighter, if possible, and sighed. “Maybe the administration was right to pair us for the dorm.”

You turned, eyes half-closed and one eyebrow raised. “Really? Because, excuse me, you hated me at first.”

He lowered his gaze, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “You were cheeky. Curious. Always in the middle of my things...”

“But?”

“But now...” He bit his lip, his ears trembling again. “...deep down, I love you.”

You were momentarily speechless, then poked him with a finger on his bare chest. “Hey, are you serious?”

“Yes.” Hee’s voice was more confident, deeper. He was letting go of the more courageous part of himself. “And you? Do you feel something for me, or were you just curious to... test a hybrid?”

“Ah!” you burst out laughing. “That time I went out with that guy? It was just to make you jealous. It worked. But then... little by little, I fell in love with you. With your pout. Your trembling ears. How you blushed if someone said something dirty to you...”

He laughed softly, ran a hand through his messy hair, and teased you: “So you’re a manipulator. A good girl with the soul of a sentimental criminal.”

“Maybe.” You leaned in and kissed him at the base of his neck, where the night before you had left more than one mark. “But now I’m your manipulator, right?”

Hee sniffed the air near you, with that hybrid instinct he still couldn’t fully control. He looked at you with slow, glossy eyes, his voice lower, rougher, almost primal:

“It’s nice... to feel my scent on your body.”

The way he said it, with animal innocence but a possessive tone, made you squeeze your thighs a little from the shiver that ran down your spine.

You smiled. “And you... you’re so sweet when you become wild. You can’t hide anymore, Hee. You’re mine.”

He blushed again, but instead of answering, he slid slowly on top of you, his fingers already curious on your side. But that... was another story. Or maybe, another morning.

OMG, I hope you like it :) Only Ni-Ki and Sunoo are left to complete this series of Enhypen as hybrids!! I don’t know when I’ll have time for the others because I’ll have university exams, so I won’t have much time to post two one-shots a week :(

Enhypen hybird series!

taglist: @ourshin @7789995323567322 @tunafishyfishylike @kkamismom12 @stwrlightt @hearts4cheol @lovenha7 @in-somnias-world @heeseungxo @luvyeni @jayjw16enxp @jvngwni @jooniesbears-blog @gguk-n @cloudykim @enhaverse713586 @stormy1408 @jakesw82 @misssparklyprincess @bamguetismee @jaylajakey @arclviie @strxwbloody @steddie-steddie @jungwoosbaey @laurenmia65 @tasnemluvs @lovellydisaster @simj4k3 @numnommz @sspidermanss @vixialuvs @smlbch @xylatox @ikeulove @nishikio soulreaper05-blog

[therobbycuepitt]

Hi!!! Here's a cute thought. What about The Pitt boys calling you their wife without you guys being married (or engaged because that makes it kinda cuter imo)? What do you think? What would that look like?

Accidentally calling you his "Wife"

Okay. I only made these for the four main male doctors, so this doesn't include nurses or med students. Sorry! ((but let me know if you want me to add them and I can do a part 2!))

Robby

He's making casual conversation with an older man in one of the rooms. At a rare day in the ED, transitioning patients to their respective departments above the usual chaotic floor of the Emergency Room was going smoothly--patients waited at three hours minimun to get seen, and Gloria wasn't up his ass for anything she can think under the sun.

"My sweet Jenny was a nurse. She loved her job, used to patch me up real good better than any doctor--no offense, Doc," his patient says with a laugh. Robby chuckles but keeps his hands steady, continuing his sutures. "None taken."

"My wife's the only one I trust around here," boasting wasn't Robby's thing but thinking about you always puts a little puff in his chest.

"Oh don't listen to my husband, Mr. Danvers. He'd be a chimney the way he blows so much smoke up my ass," your voice claims the small room. Robby stills in his seat, blushing all shades of red. His patient lets out a huge belly laugh.

"She's a firecracker, Doc. Don't lose her."

Jack

A rowdy group of hockey fans got into a bar fight, resulting in multiple minor injuries--mostly cuts and bruises.

'The Pens suck!'

'The last time your team won the cup, Facebook wasnt even invented yet!' the two groups, which were Stars and Pens fans by the symbols on their jerseys, shouted back and forth between two rooms. Unfortunately for you, you were stuck with the Away team while Parker took care of the Home team.

"You sure you don't want to sub in there, Doc?" the officer--who brought the two groups in, stands beside Jack and John, watching the chaos like it was the most entertaining show on television.

"Nah, my wife's got it. She's tough," Jack smirks a bit when you send him a wink, silently telling him you've got it handled.

Shen chokes on his iced coffee. "Like, 'work wife' , right?"

Frank

"Hey, sweet cheeks. Wanna give me a sponge bath?" Frank leans on the center bay, head hanging low between his shoulders. He glances at Myrna over his shoulder--her usual self cuffed to her wheelchair, giving him a flirty smile.

Turning around to face her, he crosses his arms and chides, "I don't think my wife, would appreciate you flirting with me, Myrna."

"Never saw a ring on it, champ. I can be real flexible," she purrs with her gravely voice, one foot extending infront of her with hands seductively inching her hospital gown up her thigh. You catch the conversation from the curtain behind Myrna, pulling it back you catch Frank’s wide eyes.

"I'll only let you borrow him if you ask nicely, Myrna."

Shen

Shen has a problem, and its called caffeine. He wouldn't say he's addicted to it, no. But if he were, he would probably blame you for putting him on the iced coffee bender. You both have sort of schedule down for who gets coffee for who on alternate days of the week. It's kind of a way to test out new coffee shops around the area and try new blends.

'Super late. Dunkin good?' he texts you, speed walking down the street to the said establishment. His phone dings with a text from you with just a thumbs up emoji. He scans the doughnut display while he waits his turn in line, mentally telling himself to add your favorite round treat to the order.

Approaching the register, his phone goes off with your name flashing on the screen while he gives the worker his coffee order.

"John, could you get me a-"

"Yes. I know, I know. Hey, man. Can you add a Boston for my wife, please," his hand freezes mid reach to his jacket's pocket for his wallet. His phone, which was pressed between his left ear and shoulder, almost slips when he hears you giggling at the other end of the line. The cashier clears his throat, and John quickly recovers, finally getting his card out to pay.

"I... don't know why I said that."

[landoughnut]

Thunderstruck - LN4

masterlist - request

pairing: lando norris x dcc!fem!reader (fc - reece :)

summary: lando goes to a cowboys game and spots, as he puts it, "his future wife" and just has to ask her out

w/c & a/n: smau | please send in smau requestssss 🫶

lando

liked by maxfewtrell, mclaren, carlossainz55, oscarpiastri, and 4,197,027 others lando was convinced to see an american football game 😎 📸: maxfewtrell

view all comments

logansargeant THIS IS WHAT I LIKE TO SEE 🔥🇺🇸 ♥︎ by author

user1 RAHHH 🏈🦅

maxfewtrell don't the the caption fool you all

maxfewtrell he watched the game until he spotted one of the cheerleaders and after that he spent the rest of the game trying to find her on google

lando WHY ARE YOU OUTTING ME ON MY OWN POST???

oscarpiastri poor girl should run while she can 😔

lando oscarpiastri HEY ⁉️

carlossainz55 does little lando norris have a crush 😏

lando no.

lando although she was the most beautiful girl I've ever seen 😻

lando can you guys help me find her she's going to be my future wife

user2 bro had one look and decided their future😭

user3 what did she look like?

lando kinda tan with medium length brown hair 😍

user4 hmm that gets rid of a decent amount

maxverstappen1 I'm surprised he didn't try to make a move

maxfewtrell trust me he tried, this idiot attempted jumping over the railing but security yelled at him

user5 maxfewtrell LMAOAOOOAOAOAO HE WAS HYPNOTIZED FR

oscarpiastri please find her lily is excited now that she might have a "paddock bestie" ♥︎ by author

lando TRUST ME MATE IM TRYINGG

user6 aw lily's so cute 🥹

user7 was it julissa.garcia1?

lando no

user7 lando was it leatunnell ??

lando user7 nope

user7 lando how about kellyvillares

lando user7 UGHHH no

leatunnell lando was is my girl yourusername ??

lando leatunnell OH MY GOSH YES THATS HER OMG OMG OMG

maxfewtrell leatunnell what have you done 😞

yourusername

liked by lando, dccheerleaders, leatunnell, maxfewtrell, and 4,197,027 others yourusername amazing game and performance tonight! 💙

view all comments

user8 STUNNERRRRR

dccherleaders beauty! 💙 ♥︎ by author

lando 🤤🤤🤤

user9 her face card never declines

lando I know right

user9 lando ohhhh brotherrrr😭

leatunnell my gorgeous best friend 😻💋 ♥︎ by author

yourusername I love you!!

lando I see my future and it's almost as bright as your smile

maxfewtrell IM FUVJING CRYING WHST IS THIS POERTY

user10 the sweetest girl EVERRR

lando WOW 🤩 run me over please 🙏

lando if she smiled at me I think I'd pass out tbh

user11 you know what real

maxfewtrell lando mate you cannot be serious...

oscarpiastri maxfewtrell I feel he's being fr 😢

lando please notice me I need to shoot my shot 😪

lando GNAWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE

maxfewtell carlossainz55 take his phone away please I know you're near each other

carlossainz55 maxfewtrell on it 🫡 lando stop this you're giving me second hand embarrassment

kellyvillares the prettiest angel 🫶 ♥︎ by author

yourusername thats all you baby!!

lando yourusername don't you call her baby 😔

danielricciardo lando mate are you quoting harry styles...?

user12 he's gone too deep now

leatunnell babe do you not see the man thirsting in your comments 😭

yourusername what?? who?

lando yourusername ME ‼️‼️ HELLOOO PRETTY LADY

maxverstappen1 lando🤦🏼‍♂️🤦🏼‍♂️

yourusername lando hi ⁉️ who are you

lando yourusername your future husband 🫠 and an f1 driver on the side ♥︎ by author

yourusername lando oh cool :)

lando yourusername so when are we going out?

yourusername lando uhhhh

lando

liked by yourusername, maxfewtrell, carlossainz55, and 3,956,308 others lando and this is what being desperate gets me 🫦

view all comments

user13 LMAOAOAOAOAO THE FIRST PICTURE

maxfewtrell that was lando recreating his reaction when he first saw her 🤓

dccherleaders we love you both!

carlossainz55 AYYYY LITTLE LANDO NORRIS IS ALL GROWN UP 

lando you had no faith in me but look at where I am now 🙂

user14 awhhhh they're so cute omg

leatunnell 😍😍

leatunnell so obsessed with you guys

yourusername love you so much babe

maxverstappen1 I'm flabbergasted that she wants to date you

lando thats rude 😾

maxverstappen1 lando rude or true?😸

user15 when will it be my turn to have a man fall in love with me at first sight 😪

user16 omg the second and third pictures are soooo 😩

lando oh yeah also shoutout to maxfewtrell 🫡 he's the reason I wen't to that football game

yourusername biggest thanks to you max, I'll get you tickets for the rest of the season 💙

maxfewtrell yourusername THANK YOUUU I LOVE YOU GUYS ♥︎ by author

danielricciardo I'm not gonna lie... I did NOT see this relationship actually happening

lando WHY DOES NO ONE HAVE FAITH IN ME 💔

maxfewtrell lando because if it were my post you were commenting those things under I'd call the cops and then file a restraining order

yourusername maxfewtrell I was going to but I secretly looked at his account when I saw his first comment and thought he was very handsome

lando yourusername YOU SAW ALL MY COMMENTS AND IGNORED THEM?????

yourusername lando of course! had to make a man work for it a bit ;) ♥︎ by author

oscarpiastri you guys are cute until you start being all over each other around the garage

lando sue me for being in love

yourusername lando awhhhh 🥹 ♥︎ by author

user17 lando is such a golden retriever bf and honestly she's also giving golden retriever gf ♥︎ by author

user18 the way whenever I see pics and vids of them online they're ALWAYS smiling at each other with literally heart eyes

user19 I KNOWWWW IT'S ADORABLE 🫠

[fiastomatocheek]

SNOOPY’S BIGGEST FAN

pair: dad!luke hughes x f!reader

genre: fluff, family, romance.

warnings: none, just an overload of fluff and wholesome family moments.

summary: you and luke are cherishing life as parents to your lively three-year-old daughter, lucy. out of the blue, lucy’s switched from calling luke ‘dada’ to ‘snoopy,’ a nickname that’s leaving you both laughing and guessing at its origin. after a thrilling devils game, lucy’s determination to stick by her dad’s side leads to her tagging along for a post-game interview. her unexpected shout of ‘dada snoopy’ during the interview steals the spotlight, melting hearts and showcasing luke’s endlessly sweet fatherhood.

fia’s notes: okay, i seriously don’t see nearly enough dad!luke content on here, so i had to take matters into my own hands and make one myself for all the luke lovers out there who, like me, crave that soft, playful, dad energy this one’s for us. my heart can’t take it. so here’s to giving dad!luke the love and attention he clearly deserves.

tagging team fia ! — @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @dancerbailey3 @mashmashi @hopefulsuitcasemoneyzonk @kell9rs @alwaysclassyeagle @nokiaholland @macka

“So,” Luke starts, voice teasing. “You think Lucy’s gonna drop the Snoopy thing anytime soon?”

He stretches an arm across the couch, fingers grazing your shoulder.

You laugh, shaking your head.

“Not a chance. She’s locked in. Those Peanuts nights with you? She’s basically married to the idea that you’re Snoopy reincarnated.”

He groans, but it’s playful, his eyes crinkling.

“All I wanted was some quality dad-daughter time, you know? Put on Peanuts, watch Snoopy do his thing, make her laugh. Now I’m stuck as a cartoon dog.”

You grin, leaning into his side.

“You brought this on yourself. She drags you to the TV every chance she gets for ‘Snoopy time.’ And honestly? She’s not wrong, you’ve got that same goofy, huggy vibe.”

“Hey,” he protests, poking your side, “I’m an elite athlete. I don’t do ‘goofy.’ I’m… charmingly relaxed.”

“Sure, Snoopy,”

You tease, and he laughs, pulling you closer until your legs tangle with his.

The Snoopy nickname started a few months ago, during a stretch of rare off-days for Luke. He’d dug up Peanuts on a whim, thinking Lucy would love the colorful characters. He wasn’t wrong, yes, she fell head over heels for Snoopy, giggling at his doghouse daydreams and clapping when he danced with Woodstock.

It became their ritual, Luke scooping her up after dinner, settling on the couch, and playing ‘A Charlie Brown Christmas’ or ‘Snoopy vs. the Red Baron.’ Lucy would snuggle into his chest, pointing at the screen and saying, ‘You, Dada!’ At first, you both thought it was a phase, but then she started calling Luke Snoopy everywhere, every playdates, bedtime, even during your grocery runs. You tried to crack her logic, but her answer was always the same ‘Snoopy’s fun, hugs, like Dada.’ And just like that, Luke became ‘Snoopy’.

“Seriously, though,” Luke says, “it’s kinda cute, right? How she gets all excited calling me that?”

“Beyond cute,”

You agree, your heart squeezing at the memory of Lucy’s voice.

“Last night, she was waving at the TV during your game, yelling, ‘Go, Snoopy, go!’ I nearly cried laughing.”

Luke’s grin is pure pride, his eyes glowing.

“She’s my number-one fan. Sorry, you’re second place now.”

“Rude,” you say, swatting his chest, but your smile betrays you.

Lucy bounds in, curls bouncing, a stuffed giraffe under her arm.

“Snoopy!” she squeals, launching herself at Luke.

“Whoa, Luce!” he laughs, catching her and hoisting her up.

“Gonna spill my coffee, kiddo.”

“Snoopy play?”

She asks, grabbing his face with both hands, her eyes sparkling with mischief. You laugh at how she’s got him completely under her spell.

Luke glances at you, mock-exasperated.

“See? No respect for my coffee time.”

“Play, play, play!” Lucy chants, bouncing on his knees.

“Alright, alright,” he says, setting his mug down and tickling her until she’s giggling uncontrollably.

“But you gotta tell Dada why I’m Snoopy.”

She pauses, tilting her head like she’s solving a puzzle.

“’Cause… you’re Snoopy!” she says, then collapses into giggles as he pretends to chomp her nose.

Luke’s the dad who’d do anything for Lucy, skate with her in his arms, read her favorite book ten times, or embrace being called a beagle because she sees his heart in her favorite character. The way he looks at her, it’s like she’s his whole world.

“Game day,” you say, breaking the moment.

“Ready to light up the arena?”

Luke winks, still wrestling with Lucy.

“Always, babe. Gotta make my girls proud.”

The Prudential Center pulses with energy as you navigate the post-game crowd, Lucy’s hand tight in yours. Her Devils jersey, Luke’s number 43, oversized and adorable sways as she skips, her cap slightly crooked.

“Mommy, where’s Snoopy?”

Lucy asks, her voice cutting through the noise. A few fans nearby chuckle, probably picturing the cartoon dog instead of your towering defenseman husband.

“He’s with the team, Luce,” you say, crouching to fix her cap.

“Dada will be out soon. Wanna wait in the family area?”

“Nooo,” she whines, stomping her sneaker.

“Want see Snoopy now!”

Her pout is theatrical, and you grin. She’s got Luke’s stubbornness and your dramatic streak, a wild combo.

Before you can offer a snack as a bribe, you spot Luke striding out of the tunnel, his eyes find you instantly, and that grin spreads across his face, still making your heart skip after all these years.

“Snoopy!”

Lucy shrieks, yanking free and sprinting toward him, Luke’s drops to his knees, arms open, catching her as she crashes straight into him.

“There’s my girl!”

He says, swinging her onto his hip and kissing her cheek. She giggles, grabbing his face like she’s claiming him.

“Snoopy, win?” she asks, all business, like she’s his personal coach.

Luke laughs, smoothing a curl from her eyes.

“Yeah, Luce, we won. Two-one. You proud of Dada?”

“Proud proud!” she yells, flinging her arms around his neck.

“Hey, you,” he says, leaning over to kiss you, soft and quick but enough to warm you through.

“Good game?”

“Great game,” you say, squeezing his arm.

“You were a beast out there.”

He grins, but a team staffer interrupts, looking apologetic.

“Luke, post-game interview. They need you, like, now.”

Luke glances at Lucy, who’s glued to him like a koala, then at you.

“This little one not letting go, is she?”

“Nope,” you say, smirking. Lucy’s already muttering about ‘helping Snoopy talk.’

Luke sighs, but it’s fond, his eyes crinkling.

“Alright, Luce, wanna come with me? Be Dada co-star?”

“Yay!” she cheers, bouncing in his arms. He looks to you, and you shrug.

“Go for it. Just don’t let her steal the mic.”

He winks. “No promises.”

All the reporter was already there. You stand off to the side, arms crossed, biting your lip to keep from laughing. The reporters seem startled of a toddler wasn’t in their playbook but Lucy’s serious little face wins them over instantly.

“Luke, great game,” the first reporter says.

“That defensive play in the third, reading the forward like a book. Walk us through it.”

Luke shifts into hockey mode, but his hand’s gently rubbing Lucy’s back, keeping her settled.

“Thanks. I saw him hesitate with the puck, so I closed the gap fast. Got lucky with the poke check, and—”

“Snoopy!”

Lucy cuts in, twisting to stare up at him. The reporters freeze, and you stifle a laugh as Luke’s lips twitch.

“Yeah, Luce?” he says, voice steady, like this is just another day.

“You skate fast!”

She declares, throwing her hands up. The room chuckles, and Luke’s cheeks tint pink, but he’s beaming.

“Thanks, Luce,” he says, kissing her head.

“Fastest Snoopy in the NHL, right?”

The second reporter, clearly charmed, leans in.

“Luke, you’ve got a big fan here. What’s it like having your daughter cheering you on?”

Luke’s smile softens, and he looks at Lucy, who’s now fiddling with his cufflinks, oblivious to the cameras.

“It’s everything. Coming off the ice and seeing her and my wife waiting? Nothing beats it. She keeps me grounded. Win or lose, I’m her—” He pauses, grinning.

“Her Snoopy, apparently.”

The room erupts in laughter, and Lucy, sensing her moment, sits up, grabs Luke’s chin, and announces,

“Dada Snoopy!”

“Dada Snoopy, huh? That’s new, Luce.”

You’re doubled over, hand over your mouth, as the reporters scramble to recover. One, still grinning, says,

“Okay, Lucy, why’s your dad Snoopy?”

She tilts her head, like it’s obvious.

“’Cause he’s funny and huggy, like Snoopy!”

Luke’s face is pure adoration, he pulls her close, nuzzling her cheek.

“I’ll take it,” he says. “Funny and good at hugs? I’m retiring as Snoopy.”

The interview wraps soon after, Lucy waving at the cameras while Luke fields a few more questions, juggling her wiggles. As you head to the family lounge, he’s still chuckling, Lucy half-asleep on his shoulder.

“Dada Snoopy,” he murmurs, shaking his head.

“All because of those Peanuts nights.”

“Told you,” you say, looping your arm through his.

“You and your Snoopy bonding sessions created a legend.”

He looks at you, eyes soft. “Think SportsCenter’s running ‘Luke Hughes, aka Dada Snoopy’?”

“Guaranteed,” you tease.

He laughs, leaning down to kiss you, careful not to jostle Lucy.

“Love you,” he whispers. “Both my girls.”

“Love you too, Snoopy,” you whisper back, and his grin outshines the arena lights.

[rafayelxsylusho]

How do the lads men act when jealous Part 2

Part 1 here (Zayne/Xavier)

Finally finished this.

Enjoy pookies!

Sylus/ Rafayel/Caleb

You find yourself in the midst of a lively discussion with a handsome stranger at the auction Sylus had insisted on attending together. The conversation flows effortlessly between you, a charming man named Elias. He's a renowned artist, his eyes sparkling with intellect as he regales you with tales of his latest exhibition.

As the minutes tick by, you become increasingly aware of Sylus's absence. He had been by your side when you first arrived, a possessive hand resting on the small of your back as he steered you through the crowded room. But now, as you laugh at one of Elias's jokes, you realize you haven't seen him in quite some time.

You glance around the room, scanning the faces of the guests, but there's no sign of Sylus.

Elias leans in closer, his voice lowering to a whisper. "You know, I have a feeling you and I have much more in common than just a love of art. You think that maybe... I can get your number?

"Do you value your ability to breathe without a tube down your throat?"

Your heart leaps in your throat at the sound of that voice. You recognize it instantly.

Elias's eyes widen and he takes a small step back from you, hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

"Easy there, Sylus," Elias says, his charming smile fading into a strained grin. "No need for threats. I was just being friendly."

Sylus steps into view, his dark silhouette looming behind you. His broad shoulders straining against the fabric of his tailored suit jacket. His eyes are fixed on Elias, a dangerous glint in their depths.

"Friendly?" Sylus repeats, a note of amusement in his voice. "Is that what you call it?" His gaze flickers to you for a moment, his expression softening almost imperceptibly before hardening once more as he turns back to Elias. "I've seen how friendly you can get"

Sylus takes another step forward, closing the distance between them. Elias swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He glances at you, then back at Sylus, and you can see the calculation in his eyes as he weighs his options.

"Look, I didn't mean any disrespect..."

"You're not worthy of so much as a single digit of her phone number. I suggest you forget you ever met her, and move along before I lose my patience entirely."

Elías clears his throat awkwardly and takes a step back "Well, it was... nice chatting with you," he says lamely, before turning and melting into the crowd, leaving you alone with Sylus.

"Was that really necessary? I was just about to say no Sy"

His thumb brushes across your lower lip, the gesture almost tender if not for the harsh set of his mouth. "Let's get out of here. I have far better plans for us tonight."

With that, he takes your hand, his grip unyielding as he begins to steer you towards the exit. His anger is palpable, but there's something else you can't quite name.

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As you walk to your room Sylus can't help but notice the shift in your mood. The lively sparkle in your eyes from earlier has been replaced by a troubled look. He watches as you walk ahead of him, your shoulders slightly slumped, your steps hesitant.

Closing the door behind you Sylus sets his jacket down on a nearby chair before turning to face you. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, his brow furrowed as he studies your face with an intensity that makes you squirm slightly.

"Talk to me," he says finally, his voice cutting through the heavy silence of the room. "What's bothering you?"

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself before you speak. "Sylus, I need you to listen to me for a moment. There was no need for you to behave like that back at the auction. You embarrassed Elias in front of everyone."

You shake your head, a flicker of disappointment in your eyes. "An arrogant display like that, threatening him just for talking to me? It was completely uncalled for."

Putting your hands on your hips, you level your gaze at Sylus, your voice firm but calm. "I understand that you want to protect me. But you can't go around intimidating people who cross an imaginary line in your head."

He takes a step closer, invading your personal space. He towers over you, his broad shoulders blocking out the light. His voice is low and tight with barely contained anger when he speaks.

"I've known Elias for years, sweetie. He's a womanizer, plain and simple. I've seen that predatory look in his eyes before, the one he gets when he sets his sights on a new conquest. And tonight, he had it directed at you."

His eyes burn into yours, the red irises seeming to glow with the force of his possessiveness "He knew you were with me. I made sure of that when I introduced you earlier. But he didn't care, did he? No, he just saw a beautiful woman and decided he wanted to add you to his list of fucks."

You plant your palms firmly against his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. You push back against him, your voice steady and unwavering as you meet his intense gaze head on.

"I appreciate your concern, I really do. But I am more than capable of taking care of myself. I've been doing it for years before I even met you."

Your eyes flash with a spark of determination and a hint of annoyance. "I'm a Deepspace Hunter, Sylus. I've faced down Wanderers, I've battled for my life and the lives of others. I think I can handle a little flirtation from a guy like that"

A sly smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as you tilt your head. "Or, and hear me out on this...maybe you were just jealous. Green as the hills, if you will."

You lean in closer, your lips nearly brushing against his as you whisper teasingly, "Is that what this is really about? You couldn't stand the thought of Elias looking at me like that because you want to be the only one with the right to crave me like that?"

Your fingertips walk playfully up his chest, tracing the line of his collarbone. "You know, it's okay to admit it. Jealousy doesn't make you weak, it makes you...human. It means you care, deeply and intensely and maybe just a little bit possessively."

You nip lightly at his bottom lip, your voice a low purr. "So go on, Sylus...admit it. Because I think that's exactly what happened back there. And you know what? It's okay. I can handle a little jealousy, as long as it comes from the right man."

"Lie down" he orders

You don't move, still processing his words, but you see his hands undo his pants then push them down his hips.

"Kitten, lay down on that fucking bed right now."

As you settle against the silk sheets, he finishes removing the last of his clothing, his shirt and underwear dropping to the floor. His erection springs free, long, hard and already leaking at the tip.

Your whispered "Oh god" reaches his ears. Sylus grins, stalking towards the bed until he looms over you. He leans down, one hand braced on either side of your head as he settles between your thighs.

"You sure you want to feed my ego like that? You already think I'm an arrogant asshole and the way you are staring at my cock is about to make me insufferable"

He rolls his hips slowly, his hard length brushing against your thigh through the thin fabric of your dress. The friction makes him groan softly, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

You sit up and his eyes darken as he watches you strip, his gaze roaming greedily over every inch of skin you reveal. When you reach for the lace tops of your stockings, he stops you "Keep those on."I want to see you in nothing but those. Want to feel the lace against your soft skin as I fuck you."

His large hands grip your hips tightly, flipping you over onto your hands and knees with a sudden, dominant move. Before you can react, he's running his palms over the curves of your ass, squeezing and kneading the supple flesh.

"Fuck, your ass is perfect," he growls, his fingers digging into your skin as he spreads your cheeks apart

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks "I want to see you arch your back for me. Want to watch this ass lift up and beg for my cock as I take you from behind."

One hand slides around to the front of your body, his fingers pushing your panties aside to stroke through your folds and then without warning, he grips the fabric and yanks hard, the material tearing away easily in his strong grasp. The cool air hits your now bare sex as you feel the rough lace scrape against your skin for a brief moment before it's ripped away completely.

"Sylus!" you cry out in surprise and a hint of pain. Your hips jerk forward instinctively and red marks bloom on your hipbones.

"Ass up, kitten," he commands, before you can react, he's pushing your upper body down against the mattress, leaving your back arched and your ass high in the air.

You feel the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and then with one hard thrust, he's burying himself inside you to the hilt. Your gasp of surprise mixes with his low groan of pleasure.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," Sylus grunts, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he starts to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in.

"You're so fucking big Sy"

"But you take it all like a good girl, don't you?"

You feel him set a hard, fast pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. He leans over your back, his chest pressed against you as he fucks into you relentlessly.

"Fuck, can you feel me deep inside your hot little cunt? Gonna fill you up until I run down those pretty stockings."

He feels your walls clench tight around his cock when he rubs your swollen clit. "Fuck, that's it. You're getting close, aren't you?"

He leans down to whisper in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "Come on my cock, kitten."

But that's not your plan.

He growls in frustration as you slip his cock out of your dripping pussy, tight walls clenching around nothing. He grabs you roughly by the waist, dragging your pleasure drunk body back against his chest. "No, no, get that sweet cunt back on my dick," he demands.

But you ignore his command, instead dragging your hand down to plunge your fingers deep inside your aching, empty core. You pump them in and out, fucking yourself with wild abandon, chasing the release that Sylus's relentless pounding brought you to the brink of.

"Fuck, Y/N I swear to god..."

Sylus watches in awe and disbelief as your body jerks and writhes against him, your back arching as you bring yourself to a shattering climax. He can feel your moan in his stomach, your pussy clenching and fluttering around your fingers as you cum hard.

" Are you kidding me?"

You laugh, pat his cheek, peck his lips and move away when he tries to kiss you deeply.

"Thank you, that was so good Sy"

He watches as you stand and stretch languidly. He licks his lips, practically drooling at the delicious image you make.

"Oh, so we're playing now, are we kitten?" He chuckles, he grips his thick shaft and pumps it slowly, teasingly. "You wanna watch me touch myself?

He spreads his legs wider, giving you an unobstructed view of his muscled body and the way his hand works over his huge, throbbing erection. "I could watch you watch me all day, sweetie."

Sylus's tongue darts out to lick his lips, his gaze never leaving yours as he pleasures himself. "You want to help, don't you kitten? Wanna wrap your lips around the head and suck me deep?"

He climbs off the bed and tosses a pillow at your feet as he stalks towards you. "For your knees, it's a hard floor"

The musky scent of his arousal fills your nostrils as you kneel before him on the pillow, your eyes level with his throbbing erection. He positions his painfully engorged cock in front of your face, the swollen head glistening with a bead of precum.

Fisting his cock he aims it at your lips and asks "May I?"

You hear him groan deeply when you nod and open your mouth, your pink tongue out and ready.

He pushes forward, the swollen head of his dick slipping past your lips and settling on your outstretched tongue. "Ungh, yes..." He throws his head back with a guttural moan as he hilts inside you, your nose pressing against his pelvis. 

"I could live inside your mouth, buried deep in your throat. Be a good girl and make me cum"

He hisses in pleasure as you gurgle and moan around him. Tears stream down your face as he fucks your throat raw, his thick cock pounding in and out, stretching your lips around his girth. You taste the salty tang of his skin, feel the hot, hard flesh throbbing against your tongue.

"I'm cumming!" Sylus grunts, his voice tight with strain as his hips stutter and still. He tries to pull back, but your hands grasp his ass, holding him deep inside as you feel his cock pulse and jerk.

The sensation of your teeth accidentally scraping his sensitive flesh sends Sylus over the edge. His hot, thick cum shooting down your throat in spurts. You swallow, gulping down every drop of his release, feeling it coat your throat and slide into your belly.

As the last weak spurts of cum dribble from his spent cock, you pull back, gasping for air. Sylus's thumb traces up the column of your throat, feeling the way it works as you swallow the remnants of his load.

"Greedy, feisty kitten," he praises with smirk, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath.

His strong arms scoop under your elbows, easily lifting you up from your kneeling position. He holds you close, your naked body pressing against his. "Now, how about you let me cum inside you this time, kitten?"

"I think that one is the best tonight" a deep, smooth voice startled you from behind. 

You were admiring Rafayel's breathtaking artwork adorning the gallery walls, you've seen them, but somehow they looked different here.

Slightly caught off guard, you turned to face the man, taking in his handsome features and the way his eyes, as blue as the ocean on a clear day, seemed to sparkle with enthusiasm as he spoke about Rafayel's paintings.

The man introduced himself as Liam, an art critic with an impressive resume and an even more impressive knowledge of the art world.

As the conversation flowed, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and admiration for Rafayel. His gift was truly remarkable, and it was clear that others recognized and appreciated his talent as much as you did. Liam talked to you about Rafayel's rise to fame, his groundbreaking exhibitions, and his ability to command astronomical prices for his one of a kind pieces.

As you spoke, you couldn't help but notice the way his eyes lingered on you.

" I see you've met my wife"

You see Liam's eyes go wide as he flashes a smile "Oh wow, I... I didn't know you two were married"

You look over your shoulder to Rafayel with a scowl before returning to Liam "We are not, he is kidding, we are just friends"

"Like hell we are, that's not what you were saying last night when my tongue was in your..."

Rafayel's smirk only grew wider as your hand clamped over his mouth, muffling his words. He let you drag him away, stumbling slightly as you pulled him down a long, dimly lit hallway of the art gallery.

"You're such a tease, you know that?" he mutters against your hand, his hot breath tickling your skin.

His hand finds yours, fingers interlocking as he allows you to lead him deeper into the gallery, away from prying eyes and ears.

As you walk, his gaze rakes over you, hungry and intense. You can feel the heat of his stare, the way it lingers on the curve of your hip, the sway of your ass. It's a tangible thing, a physical caress that makes your skin prickle with goosebumps.

You walk into a small office and close the door behind you, the air is thick with the scent of oil paints, turpentine, and something else, something musky and masculine. Rafayel's scent, you realize, your heart pounding in your chest as he backs you up against a wall, his hands coming to rest on either side of your head.

"Friends, huh?" he murmurs "Is that really what you want people to think?"

"Thomas is gonna be looking for you"

"Fuck Thomas. Fuck the gallery. Fuck everything else."

His hands slide down the wall to your hips, gripping them possessively as he pulls your body flush against his.

One hand moves from your hip to your thigh, his fingers dance along the sensitive skin. He teases, he taunts, drawing out the anticipation until you're squirming against him, desperate for more.

Then, without warning, his hand is under your dress, his fingers seeking out your most intimate place. They find your core, slick, swollen and aching for his touch.

"Do you drip down your thighs for all your friends?" He pinches your clit, rolling the sensitive nub between his fingers. Pleasure explodes through you, making your back arch and your toes curl in your shoes. Your eyes flutter shut, your head falling back against the wall as a broken moan escapes your lips.

"I don't think you do," Rafayel murmurs, his breath hot against your neck. "Because this mess, it's all for me cutie.

He pushes two fingers deep inside you, pumping them in and out, fucking you with his hand. "Does it feel like I'm your friend," he rasps, "when I bury my face between these thighs and eat this sweet pussy like it's my fucking job?" His fingers pump faster, harder, the sound of your arousal filling the small office.

"Or maybe," he continues, his other hand sliding up your body to roughly palm your breast, tweaking your nipple through the thin fabric of your dress, "when you're bouncing on my cock, taking every thick inch like you were made for it, screaming my name as you cum harder than you ever have in your life..."

He leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his hot breath making you shiver. "Is that friendship bonding?"

"Fuck" he growls, his hips rocking forward to grind the rigid length of his cock against your thigh. "You squeeze my fingers just like you squeeze my cock when I'm buried deep inside you"

He moves his fingers faster, harder, his thumb presses down hard on your clit, rubbing merciless circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"You're so fucking wet, cutie," Rafayel pants "I can feel it coating my hand, dripping down my wrist. Is that for me, y/n?

He leans down, lips latching onto the side of your neck, sucking and biting at the tender flesh.

He wastes no time, his desperation palpable as he yanks you towards the desk. The room spins briefly as he spins you around and bends you over the edge, your stomach pressing against the cool, smooth surface. Your skirt is flipped up and over in one swift motion.

He yanks down his zipper, freeing his fat cock. It springs out, slapping against your inner thigh, leaving a smear of precum on your skin.

His hands grip your hips as he positions himself. His chest presses against your back, his breath hot and ragged against your neck as he leans down to murmur in your ear.

"Can I fuck you?" he asks "Can I fuck you properly, cutie?

Your hands reach for the edge of the desk, gripping it tightly as you nod. Your body trembling with need, your core clenching and fluttering around nothing, aching to be filled by him.

"Please," you breathe out, arching your back to push your ass firmly against his hips.

Rafayel pulls your panties to the side and hilts himself inside you with one thrust, burying his thick cock to the base of your needy cunt. He stands still for a moment, his hips flush against your ass, allowing you to feel every throbbing inch of him pulsing deep within your core.

As he remains motionless, your hips start to move on their own accord, rocking back against him, desperate for friction, for stimulation, for more. The desk creaks beneath you with the force of your movements, the sound mingling with the ragged pants and moans spilling from your lips.

"Please Raf..." you whimper. Your walls clench around his shaft, trying to keep him deep inside you.

Rafayel chuckles "Please what, cutie?" he teases, his hips still unmoving, his cock throbbing but unmoving inside you. "What are you begging for? You're the one fucking me."

His hips start to move, pulling out until just the tip remains inside you, before slamming back in, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

"When I'm pounding this tight cunt, claiming this pussy as mine, it's not friendly fucking," he growls, punctuating his words with sharp snaps of his hips. "This is me showing you who you belong to. This is me reminding you that..."

He reaches around, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub. "It's all fucking mine. You're mine Y/N. This is me taking what's already mine."

The office door handle jiggles and Rafayel's eyes flash with a thrill of danger. He grins at the interruption, not slowing his relentless pace for a second.

"Maybe it's that hot shot critic, maybe he heard you. That would make things clear for him"

Your body jerks forward from the force of his thrusts, a desperate moan tearing from your throat. "So let them hear, let the whole fucking world know"

Rafayel feels your body tense and then shudder violently as his words and the relentless pounding of his cock finally push you over the edge. Your walls clamp down on him, rippling and fluttering as you come undone.

Rafayel looks down, his eyes dark and wild with lust as he watches your clench around his cock.

Then, he sees it. The creamy ring forming at the base of his shaft where your tight cunt is stretched around his thick girth. It's too much, too fucking perfect. With that Rafayel loses control, slamming into you one last time as his cock jerks and pulses inside you.

He grinds his pelvis against your ass, making sure to push every last drop deep inside you.

He slowly pulls out of you, a low groan rumbling in his chest at the sensation of your walls clinging to his softening cock. As he takes a step back, he looks down at your trembling body bent over the desk, your thighs glistening with the combined essence of your mutual pleasure.

A smirk tugs at his lips as he leans down, trailing a finger through the creamy trails dripping down your skin.

"Such a perfect piece of art," he murmurs, his voice low and awed. "Look at you, cutie. Look at the fucking masterpiece we've created."

He brings his finger to his lips, sampling the tangy flavor of your joining, his eyes never leaving your body. "Maybe I should put you out there, just like this, as my magnum opus, a live exhibit," he continues, his thumb brushing over your lower lip, smearing a dollop of his release there.

His hand cups your chin and tilts your face up to meet his eyes. "Wouldn't that be a sight, cutie?

Your heart clenches as you stare at the paused video on your phone screen, the beautiful woman's smiling face frozen beside Caleb's. An unfamiliar, bitter taste coats your tongue, jealousy, you realize with a start. You swallow hard, trying to dislodge the uncomfortable feeling lodged in your throat.

Caleb's laughter echoes in your mind. That laughter, that beautiful, rare sound, belonged to you. Only you. And seeing it, hearing it, directed at someone else... it feels like a betrayal.

You know you shouldn't feel this way. Caleb is your partner in every sense but one. You've shared everything together since childhood ,laughter, tears, secrets, dreams. But this... this hollow ache in your chest, this burning in your throat... it's new. Terrifying.

Still, as you sit there, gripping your phone like a lifeline, you can't help but wonder... what if Caleb sees her as more than just a friend? What if she sees him the same way you... the way you... can't stop yourself from seeing him?

Your heart sinks as you refresh the page again and again, desperation clawing at your throat. Gone. Vanished like a ghost. The video, your proof, your reason to feel this way... erased without a trace.

A hollow emptiness settles in the pit of your stomach as you toss your phone aside, no longer caring when it clatters onto the cold hardwood floor. It's fitting, really. Just like everything else that matters to you, it's slipping away.

Your mind replays the fleeting images from the video on an endless loop. Caleb's smile, her smile, their laughter. The way she leaned in close to whisper in his ear. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed. The way your heart shattered into a million jagged pieces.

A single tear slips down your cheek, followed by another. And another. Until they're falling in earnest, silent cries of a soul in agony. A soul that yearns for a love it can never have. A love that's slipping away, like grains of sand through an hourglass.

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You wake to the familiar buzz of your phone on the nightstand, your heart leaping with a foolish hope before you remember. Last night, Gideon's video, the hollow ache in your chest... it all comes rushing back like a bitter tide. He didn't text you last night. Not a single word, not even the usual goodnight message that you've come to expect and secretly crave.

You roll over and grab your phone, staring at the screen as it blinks with an incoming message.

A new message from Caleb. Just like every other morning. Just like clockwork.

Good morning, pipsqueak. Did you eat breakfast already?

You stare at the message and you answer, you always do.

Just waking up now. You know I'm not a morning person.

You hit send before you can overthink it, before the bitter taste of jealousy can creep back into your mouth.

You busy yourself with the mundane tasks of getting ready, trying to push away the lingering ache in your chest. You choose an outfit on autopilot, not really caring what you wear. A simple t-shirt and jeans will have to do.

You get another message and you glance at your phone, expecting to see Caleb's name flashing on the screen. But instead, you find a message from Tara. You hesitate, your thumb hovering over the notification. Going out isn't really your thing, not with everything that's been weighing on your mind lately.

Hey girl! Wanna hit up that new club downtown tonight? I heard it's lit af. ;) What do you say, bestie?

You stare at the message, reading it over and over again. Normally, you'd decline. Make up some excuse about being tired or having too much work to do. But tonight... tonight you need a distraction. Anything to get your mind off things.

Before you can overthink it, you type out a reply, your fingers moving on their own accord.

Sure, why not. Count me in. ;) Pick me up at 7?

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You step back from the full length mirror, your eyes traveling the length of the dress Tara lent you. It's a shimmering midnight blue number, the fabric clinging to your curves in all the right places. But it's the length, or lack of that has you second guessing this entire idea.

The hemline sits dangerously high on your thighs, barely grazing the tops of your legs. It's a far cry from your usual casual attire of jeans and t-shirts. You're not used to showing so much skin, to feeling so exposed.

As if sensing your hesitation, Tara appears behind you in the reflection, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. She places her hands on your shoulders, squeezing gently.

"You look smoking hot! Why the long face?" she asks, her brow furrowing in concern.

You bite your lower lip, worrying it between your teeth. "I don't know, Tara. I just...I'm not used to wearing something so...revealing.

Just tonight y/n," Tara reassures you "You deserve to let loose a little after all the hard work you've been putting in. A night out with the girls will do you good."

You know she's right. It has been a while since you last went out and had some real fun. Work has consumed most of your waking hours, and the rest has been spent...thinking about him. Him and her. Him and his laugh that wasn't meant for you.

Lost in thought, you hardly register the short walk to Tara's car. Before you know it, you're sliding into the passenger seat, the leather cool against your bare thighs.

As Tara pulls out onto the main road, you suddenly remember something. Or rather, forget something. You reach for your phone instinctively before remembering that you left it on Tara's dresser.

"Crap, I forgot my phone," you groan.

Tara glances at you, one eyebrow arched. "Do you want to go back and get it?" she asks, already slowing down to pull over to the side of the road.

You hesitate for a moment, weighing the pros and cons. In the end, you shake your head. "No, it's okay. I think I'm good without it for one night"

You settle back into the leather seat, watching the city lights blur past the window as Tara speeds towards the new club downtown.

As the night goes on, you find yourself getting lost in the music, the pulsing beats vibrating through your body as you dance with your friends. The alcohol buzzes warmly in your veins and for a few hours, you allow yourself to forget. To forget the jealousy and heartache that's been consuming you.

You're sandwiched between Tara and another friend, the three of you bouncing and swaying in sync to the pounding beat. Suddenly, a cute guy with a charming smile appears in front of you.

"Hey there," he shouts over the music, leaning in close so you can hear him. "I'm Jason. Wanna dance?"

He extends a hand, his smile widening. Normally, you might have been hesitant, or even said no. But tonight, with the alcohol coursing through your veins and the music pumping you up, you find yourself nodding.

"Sure," you reply, taking his hand and letting him pull you closer.

As the two of you begin to dance, you feel a flicker of excitement. It's nice, being desired. Being wanted. Even if it's not by...him. You push the thought away, refusing to let it ruin this moment.

Jason is a good dancer, his movements confident. He spins you around, pulling you back in close, his hands resting on your hips. You find yourself laughing, the music and the moment overwhelming you in the best way possible.

For a brief instant, you allow yourself to imagine that this could be more than just a dance. That this cute guy could be someone you could see yourself with. But then reality sets in, and you remember the truth:

Your heart belongs to someone else. Someone you can never have. No matter how hard you try to forget, how much you drink, or how many cute guys you dance with.

The room spins as you feel Jason kiss you, his lips foreign and unfamiliar against your own. Your eyes flutter closed, trying to lose yourself in the sensation, desperate to forget the man who truly owns your heart. But as you press your mouth harder against his, you realize that this kiss...it's all wrong.

His lips are too thin, not soft and plush like...like Caleb's. The shape is different, the feel of them unfamiliar. And his breath...it doesn't smell like sweet apples.

A pang of disappointment shoots through you as the realization hits this isn't the kiss you've been dreaming of. This isn't the man you've been longing for. This is just a cruel imitation, a poor substitute for the real thing.

You pull back, breaking the kiss abruptly. Jason looks startled for a moment before a confused frown crosses his face. You open your mouth to say something, to apologize or explain, but no words come out.

Instead, you feel a wave of nausea roll over you, the alcohol you've consumed churning uncomfortably in your stomach. You stumble back from Jason, pressing a hand to your mouth as you try to hold back the urge to vomit.

"Excuse me," you mutter, not meeting his eyes as you turn and push your way through the crowd on the dance floor.

You make it to the bathroom just in time, collapsing in front of the toilet and retching violently. Tears stream down your face as you empty the contents of your stomach, the bitter taste of regret and self loathing coating your tongue.

You splash some cold water on your face, staring at your reflection in the mirror, eyes red and puffy, your makeup smeared from crying and the heat of the club. But looking back at you is the face of a girl who's in love with someone she can never have. A girl who's trying desperately to forget, but failing miserably.

You stumble out of the bathroom, still feeling shaky and off balance.The last person you expect to see tonight is standing right there in front of you, his tall frame unmistakable even in the low light.

Caleb.

He's dressed in button down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and dark jeans that hug his muscular thighs. His hair is slightly tousled, like he's been running his fingers through it in agitation. And his eyes...his eyes are fixed on you, a stormy violet that betrays his emotions.

Your eyes widen in shock as Caleb strides towards you, his long legs eating up the distance between you in just a few quick steps. Before you can react, he's upon you, his large hands gripping your waist. In one almost effortless motion, he hoists you up and over his shoulder, leaving your head dangling down his back.

"Caleb!" you yelp, instinctively grabbing onto his shirt to steady yourself. "What are you doing? Put me down!"

But he ignores your protests, his grip on your thighs tightening as he turns to stalk out of the club. Tara watches in stunned silence, her mouth hanging open.

"Oh, hey Caleb," she starts to say, but he cuts her off before she can finish.

"Do you have a way to get home safely?" he asks, his voice low and gruff.

"Yes," Tara replies, her eyes flicking to you in confusion and a hint of concern.

Without waiting for her to finish, Caleb starts walking, carrying you through the crowded club. You bounce and jostle with each step, your dress riding up dangerously high on your thighs. You can feel the cool air on your exposed skin, the fabric of his shirt rough against your cheek.

"Caleb, stop!" you cry, pounding your fist against his back. "You can't just take me like this! I can walk on my own."

But he remains silent, his jaw clenched tight as he pushes through the crowd. You catch glimpses of the curious stares and whispers as he passes.

Soon, the loud music fades behind you as Caleb bursts out of the club and into the cool night air. The sudden change in temperature makes you shiver, and you instinctively press closer to the warmth of his body.

He doesn't stop until he reaches a sleek, black car parked at the curb. With a grunt, he yanks open the passenger door and unceremoniously dumps you onto the leather seat. You land with a thud, the breath knocked out of your lungs temporarily.

Before you can scramble away, he's sliding into the driver's seat beside you, slamming the door shut. The sound of it clicking closed makes you jump, and you shrink back against the far window, eyeing him warily.

"What the hell, Caleb?" you demand, your voice shaking slightly from the cold and the shock of being so abruptly kidnapped. "Why did you just do that? I can't believe you!"

He doesn't respond right away, his grip tightening on the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. The engine hums loudly in the tense silence between you as he starts driving.

Finally, he slams on the brakes, the car jerking to a halt. He turns to face you, his eyes blazing with an emotion you can't quite place anger, jealousy, pain?

"Did you enjoy it?" he asks, his voice low and rough. "Did you enjoy what you were doing back there with him?"

You glare back at Caleb, your eyes flashing with anger and defiance. "I was enjoying every second of it," you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "In fact, I'm thinking of going back again. Maybe I'll let him kiss me again, maybe I'll let him do even more than that"

You feel a surge of anger rising up inside you, your cheeks flushing hot with both fury and humiliation. How dare he accuse you like this, demand answers to questions he has no right to ask? He had no right to drag you out of there like some kind of caveman!

"Did you enjoy his attention?"

"Did you enjoy hers?" 

"So this is what all of this is about?"

"Did you?"

"I hated every second of it"

You grip the edge of your seat as he speeds off, the car lurching forward and the rest of the way home is silent.

Once you get home you step out of the car, not waiting for him to open your door. You walk ahead of him, your heels clicking loudly against the pavement as you cross the parking lot to your apartment building. The cool night air nips at your bare legs, but you barely feel it. You're too focused on the man following close behind you

You can feel his gaze burning into your back, hot and intense. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

As you approach your front door, you hesitate, your hand hovering over the handle. You know you should say something, should try to diffuse the tension that's building between you. But what can you say?

You turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. He's standing close, too close, his broad shoulders taking up almost the entire doorway. He's looking down at you, his eyes dark and stormy, his jaw clenched so tightly you think he might break his teeth.

"Caleb..." you start, but the words die in your throat. 

His hand comes up, his fingers brushing against your cheek. You lean into the touch instinctively, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When you open them again, he's looking at you with a mix of anger, jealousy, and something else... something softer.

"Just... go inside," he says quietly. "Before I do something we'll both regret."

You barely make it inside before the nausea hits you again and you run to the bathroom. Once again falling to your knees in front of the toilet, you retch, your stomach churning as you empty its contents. Tears stream down your face, mingling with the drool and sweat as sobs wrack your body.

Behind you, you hear the click of the bathroom door closing, and then the sound of Caleb's footsteps on the tile floor. He doesn't say a word, but you feel his presence looming over you, as solid and comforting as it always was when you were a kid.

His hands gather your hair, pulling it back from your face and holding it out of the way as you continue to heave and retch. Just like he used to do when you were little and got sick after eating too much ice cream.

The memory makes you cry even harder, great gulping sobs that hurt your chest and burn your throat. You're suddenly transported back to those simpler times, when all you needed was Caleb to make everything better. When he was your rock, your protector, your best friend in the whole wide world.

Why did things have to get so complicated? Why did falling in love with him have to ruin everything? You were happier before, when you could just be with him without all this fear and longing and heartache.

You're dimly aware of Caleb shifting behind you, his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you up as the last of the sickness leaves your body. He rubs your back in soothing circles, just like he used to, crooning soft words of comfort into your ear.

"Shh, I've got you," he murmurs, his voice low and deep and so achingly familiar. "I'm here, pipsqueak. I'm not going anywhere."

You let Caleb help you brush your teeth, rinsing the bitter taste of sickness from your mouth. He hands you a glass of water and a couple of pills, no doubt for the headache that's starting to throb behind your eyes.

Without a word, you take them, swallowing them down with a few gulps of the cool water. Caleb watches you silently, his expression unreadable.

When you're finished, he takes your hand and leads you back out to the bedroom. The room spins slightly as you walk, and you have to lean against him for support. He steadies you easily, his arm wrapping around your waist.

At the bed, he pauses, letting you sit down on the edge of the mattress. You watch as he pulls back the covers, the sheets smooth and cool and inviting. He helps you lie down, tucking the blanket around your shoulders like you're a child.

You settle back against the pillows, suddenly exhausted by the events of the night. Caleb stands over you, looking down at your face. In the moonlight filtering through the window, his expression is soft, almost tender.

He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair off your forehead. His fingers linger, tracing the curve of your cheek, the line of your jaw. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed.

"Sleep now," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll be here when you wake up."

You believe him, because you've always believed him. Because he's always kept his promises, no matter what. Even when the world felt like it was falling apart around you, Caleb was your constant, your safe haven, your home.

With a sigh, you let yourself sink into the mattress, the exhaustion pulling you down into a deep sleep. The last thing you hear before everything fades to black is the soft click of the bedroom door as Caleb steps out, giving you privacy and space, just like he always does. Just like he's always done. Even in sleep, you reach for him, your hand searching for the warmth and solidity of his body. But that side its empty, the sheets cool and smooth and untouched.

You wake with a start, your heart pounding in your chest. The sheets beneath you are damp with sweat, tangled around your legs. For a moment, you're disoriented, unsure of where you are or how you got here.

Memories of the night before come rushing back, the club, Caleb's fury, the sickening nausea that left you weak and shaking. You shiver as a chill runs through you, the cold sweat on your skin making you feel clammy and unclean.

Slowly, you sit up, pushing the damp hair out of your face. Your mouth feels dry, your tongue thick and furry. 

You swing your legs over the side of the bed, standing up gingerly as a wave of dizziness washes over you. You grab onto the edge of the bed, waiting for it to pass before taking a tentative step forward.

As you creep towards the door, you suddenly remember Caleb's parting words. He said he'd be here when you woke up. You hadn't been sure what to make of that at the time, too tired and miserable to think it through. But now, a flicker of worry ignites in your chest.

You slip out the bedroom door and into the darkened living room. At first, you don't see him. The room is small and cramped, filled with the detritus of your life. Clothes are strewn over the back of the couch, empty cups and plates litter the coffee table. It's a mess, a reflection of the chaos inside your head.

But then you see him. He's stretched out on the tiny sofa, his long legs dangling off the edge, his broad shoulders hunched to fit the too small space.

You step closer, your heart starting to pound for a different reason now. Caleb looks so peaceful when he's asleep, his face relaxed, his dark lashes fanning out against his cheeks. He's even more beautiful like this, without the anger and pain that usually clouds his eyes.

As you tiptoe back towards the bathroom, you pause for a moment, glancing back at Caleb's sleeping form. He's shifted slightly, one arm falling off the couch to hang down to the floor.

A pang of guilt spears through you as you remember the anger in his eyes last night. The jealousy. The pain. All because of you and your stupid, impulsive actions.

Shaking your head, you quickly look away, hurrying into the bathroom. You turn on the shower, waiting for the water to heat up. As steam starts to fill the small room, you strip off your clothes, letting them drop to the floor. You step into the shower, sighing as the hot water hits your cool skin.

You scrub yourself thoroughly, washing away the grime and sweat of the night before. But no matter how hard you scrub, you can't seem to wash away the shame and guilt that clings to you like a second skin.

With a heavy sigh, you turn off the water, stepping out of the shower. You wrap a towel around your body, tucking it in at the top.

You walk out of the bathroom, still wrapped in your towel, steam curling around your legs.

As you step into the bedroom, you freeze, your heart leaping into your throat.

There, sitting on the edge of your bed, is Caleb. He looks big and imposing in your small bedroom, taking up more space than he should.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The silence stretches between you, thick and heavy with unspoken words and lingering anger.

Then Caleb breaks the silence, his voice low and rough from sleep. "Hey," he says simply, his gaze never leaving yours.

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very aware of your state of undress. You clutch the towel tighter around your body, as if it could somehow shield you from the intensity of his stare.

Hey," you reply softly, not trusting yourself to speak any louder.

He stands up then, moving towards you with slow, deliberate steps. He stops when he's standing right in front of you. You have to tilt your head back to look up at him, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

"You really don't get it, do you?"

His thumb presses against your lower lip, tracing the soft curve. He leans in closer, his breath mingling with yours. You can smell the faint scent of apples, the lingering aroma of his cologne. It's the same scent that always lingers on your skin after he holds you close.

"I saw the way those men looked at you last night," he grits out, a flicker of anger sparking in his eyes. "I saw them staring at what's mine. And it made me want to... to..."

"Yours?"

"Yes, mine" he confirms "You've been mine for years. Long before you even realized it."

He takes a shuddering breath, his chest expanding and when he speaks again, his words are raw and unguarded, laid bare by the weight of his emotions.

"I can't hold back anymore. I can't pretend that I don't want you, that I don't need you like air in my lungs. I've wanted you for so long, and seeing you with him last night... it made me realize that I can't keep pretending anymore."

"I would never touch another woman, not when you're all I can think about. Not when you've consumed my every thought, my every dream, for as long as I can remember. You're the one constant in my life. My everything."

Caleb's eyes widen for a split second in surprise before they flutter shut as your lips meet his in a clash of long denied passion. He makes an approving sound in the back of his throat, his arms wrapping around you to crush you against his muscular body.

It's like a dam bursting open, a flood of pent up emotion and desire pouring out of him as he kisses you with a hunger that steals your breath away. His lips move demandingly over yours, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim and possess.

You feel the same desperate hunger rising up inside you, a starving ache that can only be sated by him. Your fingers clutch at his shirt, fisting the fabric as you press yourself even closer, needing to feel every inch of him against every inch of you.

His hands roam your body with a sense of urgency, mapping out the curves he's always craved to touch. He tugs impatiently at the towel, and it falls away, baring your naked flesh to his eyes. He breaks the kiss just long enough to drink in the sight of you.

He leans down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak before he suckles hard. Pleasure jolts through you, and you arch into him, your fingers tangling in his hair to hold him close.

His hand slides down your stomach, his fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He parts your thighs, and you feel the cool air on your overheated skin before his fingers find your center.

He groans against your breast, his fingers sliding through your folds, teasing your clit with a skill that has you seeing stars. "So fucking wet," he murmurs, lifting his head to look at you with eyes that blaze with lust. "All for me, Pip? 

He walks you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bed. His hands grip your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh as he lifts you up effortlessly. You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively.

He lays you down on the bed, his body covering yours, pinning you to the mattress. He kisses you again, his hips nestling between your spread thighs.

Pulling back, he looks down at you with eyes darkened by desire, his chest heaving. "Tell me where you want me, baby"

He strokes the soft skin of your inner thighs, his thumbs brushing maddeningly close to the apex of your legs.

"Here?" he murmurs, his fingers grazing your sex, "or maybe... here? Show me"

"Caleb..."

"Show me, Y/N"

Slowly you spread your legs apart, feet flat on the mattress and you point a finger in between your thighs "Here"

"Dip one finger in"

You obey his command. He inhales sharply when your finger parts your glistening folds. His eyes follow the path of your finger as it trails over your sensitive clit, and a low groan escapes his lips at the sight of your touch.

"Stop" his voice makes you pause, your finger hovering just above your needy sex as you blink up at him.

"Not there," he says, "Dip just the tip of your finger straight into your tight little cunt. Let me see you open yourself up for me."

The tip of your finger disappears inside of you. He licks his lips, his eyes fixated on the way your walls clench around it, as if begging for something more.

"That's enough, I want a taste. Feed it to me"

You withdraw your finger from your dripping pussy and bring your finger to Caleb's parted lips, watching as he takes it into his mouth without hesitation. His tongue swirls around the tip, lapping up your essence, his lips sealing around the digit as he suckles firmly. An approving moan vibrates around your finger, the sound sending shivers of pleasure racing through your body.

"Mmm, fuck," he murmurs, releasing your finger from his mouth. "You taste even better than I imagined. Believe me when I say that I'm going to lick this sweet little cunt until you're screaming my name and cumming on my tongue over and over again. But right now, I need to be inside you"

With that declaration, he sits back on his heels and reaches for the hem of his shirt, he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside. His muscles ripple and flex as he moves, a testament to the strength and power that lies beneath his skin.

Next, he unbuckles his belt. He stands briefly to shimmy out of his jeans, letting them drop to the floor and leaving him in nothing but a pair of tight, black boxer briefs that do little to hide the thick outline of his arousal.

He crawls back over you, settling between your spread thighs, his hips nestling against yours. He leans down to capture your lips in a kiss, his tongue delving deep to taste you again. You can feel the heat of his skin, the hard length of him pressing insistently against your core.

Breaking the kiss, he reaches down to push his boxers out of the way, freeing his cock. It springs up thick and hard, the swollen head already glistening with precum. He takes himself in hand, stroking himself slowly as he looks down at you.

Caleb groans and throws his head back as your small hand wraps around him. "Princess," he grunts, his hips bucking slightly into your touch. He can feel your hesitation, your innocence, and it makes him want to take his time with you.

When you push him back onto the bed and settle between his spread thighs, his chest heaves with anticipation. He can only watch as you lean down and extend your little pink tongue to lick a slow, teasing path along the underside of his cock.

"Oh, fuck," he gasps, his fingers tangling in your hair, gripping the soft strands tightly.

"Teach me how to do it, I want to make you feel good"

"Fuck, Pip," he rasps, his hips twitching with the effort of holding still and letting you take the lead. "You're killing me here. Your mouth feels so fucking good."

He guides your head with a gentle pressure, encouraging you to take more of him into your mouth. "Start by just licking along the shaft," he instructs, his voice strained. "Use the flat of your tongue, from the base up to the tip."

As you follow his directions, he shudders and lets out a low moan. "That's it, just like that. You're doing so good, princess. Your mouth is perfect."

"Now," he continues, his breathing growing heavier, "try wrapping your lips around the head. Just the tip, okay? And suck gently, like you would with a lollipop. Use your lips and your tongue toge...Ungh...Fuck, just like that," Caleb groans, his fingers tightening in your hair as he feels your soft lips wrap around the swollen head of his cock.

He guides your head down a little further, inch by inch, letting you take more of his thick length into your mouth. "Remember to breathe through your nose, and don't worry about taking it all at once. Just focus on the head for now."

As you suck gently, your tongue swirling around the tip, Caleb's thighs tremble beneath your hands. "Shit...fuck. Now, try bobbing your head a little. Just an inch at a time, letting your lips slide along my shaft. Find a rhythm that feels good for you."

He looks down at you, his eyes dark and intense, filled with a mix of lust and affection. "You're doing amazing. I've never felt anything like this before. Your mouth is pure magic."

He watches, enraptured, as your head rises and falls, your lips wrapped snugly around him. The sight of your pretty mouth stretched around him, the feeling of your warm, wet mouth enveloping him, its too much for Caleb to take.

Caleb's body tenses, his grip on your hair tightening as he feels his release fast approaching. With a low groan, he suddenly moves, sliding his throbbing shaft from the warm haven of your mouth.

Before you can miss the loss, he's moving, flipping your body over and settling between your thighs once more. His hands grip your hips, squeezing the soft flesh as he positions himself at your entrance.

"Not yet, baby," he rasps, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "I can't cum like that, not before I feel you wrapped around me. I want to be inside you when you let go."

The head of his cock nudges against your wet folds, parting them, teasing your entrance. His breath comes in short, sharp gasps as he fights the urge to surge forward, to bury himself to the hilt in one thrust.

"Can I?"

"Please Caleb"

"Biiiig stretch," Caleb grunts, his voice strained as he thrusts forward. He buries himself to the hilt slowly, his heavy balls coming to rest against your skin.

Your gasp of surprise and the way your back arches off the bed, pressing your breasts against his chest, spurs him on.

He pauses for a moment, letting you adjust to the size of him, the stretch of your untouched walls around his shaft. His heart pounds wildly in his chest, a mix of exertion and exhilaration. The heat of your core is incredible, the wetness coating his length allowing him to slide in and out of you.

He pulls back slowly, until just the tip of his cock remains inside you, before thrusting forward again, burying himself deep. He sets a steady rhythm, his hips rocking against yours as he fucks you with long, deep strokes.

He lifts your leg, hooking it over his shoulder as he angles his hips and thrusts deep, striking a spot inside you that makes your back arch off the bed.

"Do that again," you gasp, your nails digging into his back, urging him on. Your words inflame him, spurring him to do exactly as you asked. He pulls back and slams forward again, his thick cock pummeling that sensitive spot deep inside your core.

"That's it, it's there!" you cry out, your head thrown back, your throat bared to his hungry gaze.

He leans down, capturing your nipple his teeth grazing the sensitive peak. He suckles and nips at the hardened bud. His hand slides between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing the swollen nub in tight, quick circles.

Your screams of pleasure fill the room, a symphony of ecstasy that makes Caleb's heart soar. He can feel your body trembling beneath him, your walls fluttering and clenching around him. The pleasure is overwhelming, unlike anything you've ever experienced on your own. It leaves you dizzy and breathless, your mind hazing with the intensity of it all.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," Caleb grunts, his voice strained as he pounds into you with wild abandon. Sweat beads on his brow, his muscles flexing and rippling with each thrust. He's lost in the sensation of your tight cunt, in the way your body molds to his perfectly.

But then, he feels it. The way your hips start to rock up to meet his, your body instinctively seeking more pleasure. Your legs wrap around his waist, your heels digging into his backside as you urge him deeper, harder, faster.

"Don't fucking stop," you manage to gasp out between ragged breaths and wanton moans. "Don't ever stop, Caleb. Please."

He reaches down, gripping your thigh and hiking your leg even higher, until your knee is nearly pressed to your chest. The new angle allows him to drive even deeper into your core, his cock head kissing your cervix with each savage thrust. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall.

Your body tenses, back arching sharply as the coil of pleasure inside you snaps. A scream tears from your throat, raw and primal, as your climax crashes over you. Your walls clamp down around him like a vice, gripping his length with a force that steals his breath. The sensation is too much, too intense, too perfect.

His hips stutter, his rhythm faltering as your cunt milks his cock, demanding his own climax.

His cock pulses and throbs as he finds his own release, thick ropes of hot seed erupting from the swollen head to paint your insides white.

"I can't... I can't believe it," he gasps, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. "I thought I could last longer, but you just... god, Pip, you just felt too fucking good."

He's not sure if he was too rough, too demanding in his desire to claim you, to make you his. The thought that he might have hurt you leaves him feeling guilty and protective.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. "Did I hurt you, baby? I didn't mean to be so rough..."

He searches your face intently, looking for any sign of discomfort or pain. But all he sees is a reflection of his own satisfaction, his own lingering pleasure.

You shake your head, a small smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "No, I'm not hurt," you assure him

"Wanna go again?" he asks teasingly. He rocks his hips slightly, his softening cock still nestled deep inside your sensitive core.

"You're secretly a dirty dog, Caleb," you accuse playfully, a giggle escaping your lips. You nip at his jaw, your teeth grazing the stubble that's begun to grow there. "A big, bad, horny dog."

Caleb's only response is a low, rumbling "Woof," his lips curling into a wolfish grin.

[fic-girlie]

PLSSS a pedro x reader where they went clubbing for his bday!

Until the music fades

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader Summary: For Pedro’s 50th birthday, you celebrate with a night of dancing, laughter, and quiet affection. After a protective moment at the club, you end the night wrapped in each other’s arms, sharing soft words and tender love at home. Warnings: fluff, protective Pedro, clubbing, soft cuddling

The evening starts in that familiar way—a shared bathroom mirror, your playlists weaving between Pedro’s hums and jokes, warm light bouncing off glass bottles and soft cologne. The getting-ready part always feels like a secret ritual between the two of you, like a private show before the curtain lifts on the main event.

He watches you from the doorway at first, arms folded as you put on the finishing touches to your makeup. “You’re not even done yet, and I already need to sit down.”

You glance at him in the mirror, one brow lifting as you slide on your lipstick. “You better not fall asleep at the club.”

“I’m just saying,” he drawls, stepping further into the room, “this whole turning fifty thing comes with the right to complain about sore knees and bedtime.”

“But not about dancing,” you say, turning to face him with a playful smirk.

He stops. Actually stops.

And stares.

The look in his eyes is slow and deliberate, like he’s drinking in the sight of you all at once—your dress hugging your curves, the way your skin glows under the bathroom light, the glint of amusement behind your eyes. It’s not lust, exactly. It’s something softer, deeper. Something reverent.

“You look…” He swallows, then lets the corner of his mouth curve up. “I don’t have a word for it.”

You cock your head. “Is this you trying to flirt with me before your big birthday night out?”

He steps closer, one hand reaching for your hip, the other brushing lightly against the side of your arm. “This is me reminding myself that I get to walk into a club with the most beautiful woman there. And then dance with her like I own the place.”

You laugh, but there’s a warmth rising in your chest now, one of those small, quiet moments where love settles itself into your bones.

“You clean up alright too,” you tease, your hand smoothing the collar of his black jacket and patting a crease out on his t-shirt.

“Alright?” He pulls back just enough to dramatically look down at himself. “Excuse me, this t-shirt is tucked. I even ironed it.”

“You ironed it?” You squint at him, amused. “No wonder it smells like burnt hope in here.”

He gasps again—this time with even more theatrical flair—and drops his forehead dramatically onto your shoulder. “Wounding me. On my birthday.”

You laugh and wrap your arms around his neck. “You’ll recover.”

He doesn’t lift his head right away. Instead, he stays there a moment, nestled into your collarbone, his breath slow and steady against your skin. When he does finally speak, it’s softer—lower.

“I know we could’ve done something quieter tonight. Just the two of us. Dinner, a movie, couch cuddles with chocolate and wine. But… I don’t know. I wanted to feel alive tonight. Loud music. Dancing. Holding you close with sweat dripping down my back.”

You press a gentle kiss to the side of his head. “Then that’s exactly what we’ll do.”

He pulls back to look at you again, and this time there’s a smile tugging at the edge of his lips that’s pure gratitude.

“You’re always down for my weird ideas.”

“You danced in our kitchen with socks on and fell into the fridge, remember? After that, I’m pretty much in for anything.”

“Okay, that’s slander,” he says, grabbing his wallet and keys from the counter. “I gracefully slid.”

You grab your bag and give him a look. “Pedro, you took the magnet off the fridge with your ass.”

He shakes his head with mock solemnity. “I will never live that down.”

“Never,” you confirm, following him to the door.

Outside, the night air is warm and full of city life—traffic hums in the distance, voices float from nearby patios, and the sky is painted in the dusky glow of summer twilight. You both linger near the curb where the car service is supposed to arrive, his hand intertwined with yours, thumb gently stroking the edge of your palm.

Pedro glances sideways at you, his eyes twinkling. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

“You’re fifty,” you deadpan. “Not ninety-five.”

He scoffs. “Okay. But just so you know—I plan on grinding on you tonight like a man in his prime.”

You try not to laugh, but it comes out anyway—bright and warm, like he planned it just to hear the sound.

“Can’t wait to see you try, papi.”

His grin turns wolfish at the sound of that. “Say that again when I’ve got my hands all over you on the dance floor.”

You lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth. “Promise.”

The car pulls up just in time to save you both from descending into full flirty chaos. He opens the door for you like a gentleman—one hand pressed to your lower back as you slide in—and then joins you inside.

As the car begins to move, he laces your fingers together and lifts your hand to kiss the top of it, eyes never leaving yours.

“Tonight’s just for us,” he murmurs. “No press, no friends, no interviews. Just me, and you, and the music.”

You squeeze his hand. “Happy birthday, love.”

He smiles. “It already is.”

And as the lights of the city blur past the window, you know—tonight is going to be a memory you’ll come back to for the rest of your lives.

——

The club is already thumping with bass when you arrive, the low-pulsing beat vibrating beneath your heels as you and Pedro step out of the car and into the shimmering heat of the crowd outside. There’s a line wrapping around the building, voices raised in anticipation, camera flashes occasionally flickering—but you’re whisked right in, no questions asked.

Pedro gives the bouncer a casual nod, and the man claps him on the shoulder with an easy “Happy birthday, man.”

Inside, the lighting is dim and dreamy—blues and pinks sliding over bodies like paint strokes, catching the shimmer on sequined dresses and bouncing off cocktail glasses. It smells like citrusy perfume, velvet sweat, and neon dreams.

Pedro holds your hand tight as you weave through the crowd, his other arm protectively settling across your lower back. “Remind me to thank whoever set this up. I thought it would be all velvet ropes and awkward nodding at industry people.”

“You thought wrong,” you say, leaning in so he can hear you. “It’s perfect.”

You spot the DJ booth glowing in the far corner, surrounded by bodies in motion. The dance floor is alive—hips swaying, heads thrown back in laughter, strangers pressing in close without asking. Pedro’s eyes scan the scene with something close to mischief.

“Okay,” he says, tilting his head toward the bar. “One drink and then we’re dancing. Non-negotiable. I want at least one full-body grind before someone inevitably takes a photo of me sweating like a roasted pig.”

You laugh, fingers brushing against his chest. “Two drinks. I need to warm up.”

“You don’t need warming up,” he mutters, leaning in to kiss your temple. “You’re fire already.”

He guides you to the bar and flags down the bartender—a young woman who clocks him instantly, her eyes widening a fraction. “Two mezcal margaritas,” he calls over the music. “And maybe a water, too. Gotta hydrate like it’s a marathon.”

You rest one hip against the bar while he chats, letting the rhythm seep into your limbs, your eyes half-closed as the beat climbs and drops. You can feel your heart syncing to the tempo. The crowd is all motion and sparkle, chaos wrapped in sound.

Then you hear it.

A voice—close. Too close.

“Hey,” the man says beside you. Mid-thirties, probably. Confident in that calculated, too-smooth way. “I saw you dancing over here. You alone?”

You blink, slow to register him. “I’m not.”

He grins like you just challenged him. “Your boyfriend let you stand here all by yourself? Doesn’t sound very smart.”

Your smile tightens. “He’s right there. Just ordering drinks.”

The guy glances behind you. “Right, the old guy?”

You turn your head just slightly—enough to look him square in the eyes. “The birthday boy.”

The guy chuckles, bold now. “You sure you wouldn’t rather dance with someone who can keep up?”

And that’s when you feel it—a shift in the air behind you. Pedro’s presence, sudden and solid, settling like thunder.

He steps up beside you, places one of the margaritas gently into your hand, then turns to the guy without even pretending to smile.

“Everything alright here?”

The man straightens up, suddenly a lot less smirking. “Yeah. Yeah, I was just—uh, didn’t realize she was with someone.”

Pedro doesn’t look away. He’s not puffed up or shouting, but his body says everything—broad shoulders squared, one hand resting casually on the bar while the other hovers just slightly behind your waist. Not touching, not yet, but ready.

You glance at him, your chest warm with the way he doesn’t make a scene—just draws a quiet line.

“She’s very much with someone,” Pedro says, his voice low but steady. “So unless you wanna spend the rest of your night wondering how fast I can break a nose, I suggest you move along.”

The guy hesitates a beat too long. Then he’s gone, swallowed up by the crowd.

Pedro finally exhales, slow and quiet, and then turns to you. His hand settles fully on your lower back, pulling you a fraction closer.

“You okay?”

You nod. “I was fine. But that was—very hot.”

He raises an eyebrow, lips twitching. “Hot?”

“Yeah,” you say, sipping your drink. “Like… if we weren’t in public, I’d jump you right now hot.”

Pedro laughs—deep and low and unbothered now that you’re both back in your bubble. “You save that for later. Right now, you owe me a dance.”

You finish your drink, set it on the bar, and hold your hand out. “Lead the way, birthday boy.”

He takes it without hesitation, guiding you onto the dance floor with that quiet confidence that never fails to undo you. The music pulses, wrapping around your bodies as you find the rhythm together. His hands settle on your hips, his eyes locked on yours even in the chaos.

You move as one—slow at first, hips swaying lazily to the beat, your arms around his neck, his breath brushing against your cheek. His fingers tighten when you grind a little closer, and he leans in to whisper against your ear.

“See? Told you I could still dance.”

“I’ll give you that,” you say, pressing your forehead to his. “But if you throw your back out trying to impress me, I’m not carrying you home.”

He chuckles, lips brushing your cheek. “You’d carry me. You love me.”

You sigh dramatically. “Unfortunately.”

He grins and spins you, just enough to make you laugh before pulling you flush to his chest again. “Best birthday ever.”

And as the music surges and the lights spin around you, you know you’ll remember this moment forever—Pedro, the warmth of his arms around you, the safety of his presence, the thrill of the dance, and the simple truth of it all:

You’re wildly, stupidly, hopelessly in love with him.

——

You don’t even remember what song is playing when Pedro laces his fingers with yours and leans down, his nose brushing your temple as he says, “Alright, my birthday bones are starting to ache. You ready to head home, mi amor?”

You nod, your body pleasantly sore from dancing, your cheeks warm from the drinks and the way he kept pulling you close—protective, teasing, completely his. The noise of the club still thrums through your body as you slip outside, blinking into the cooler night. He throws an arm around your shoulder and tucks you in close, pressing a kiss to your temple as the two of you wait for the car.

You glance up at him, your eyes flicking over the slight sheen of sweat on his brow, the soft lines around his mouth from smiling all night. “You good?”

“I’m perfect,” he says, looking down at you like you’re the only person in the world. “I got to dance with the most beautiful woman in the room on my birthday. That’s hard to top.”

You squeeze his hand, biting back a grin. “You say that like you didn’t have a line of people trying to dance with you.”

He smirks. “I didn’t see anyone worth leaving you for.”

“You better not have,” you murmur, tugging his hand to your lips and kissing his knuckles. “Or I would’ve hexed them.”

“You’d hex them?” He laughs, eyes crinkling. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

“You’re too sweet,” you say. “I’d only hex you a little.”

He chuckles again and kisses the top of your head as the car pulls up. The drive home is quiet—not tired, just content. His hand rests on your thigh the entire way, thumb stroking gently against your skin, drawing tiny lazy circles that say I’m here, I’m yours without needing words.

You both kick your shoes off the second you walk through the door. Pedro shrugs off his jacket and tosses it over a chair with a sigh that’s almost comical in its relief. “Oh thank God,” he groans, rolling his shoulders dramatically. “I swear my knees just aged ten years in that club.”

You lean against the doorframe, arms folded, watching him. “You were dancing like you were twenty-five. I’m honestly impressed.”

“I’m gonna feel it in the morning,” he mutters, already tugging his t-shirt over his head.

You follow him into the bedroom, your fingers brushing over the exposed skin of his back as he heads to the bathroom to wash up. “You’re still hot as hell,” you call after him.

He leans back out of the doorway, grinning with toothpaste already on his toothbrush. “Say that louder for the record.”

You pad over and stand beside him at the sink, using a makeup wipe while he brushes his teeth, the two of you side-by-side in the mirror. You catch his eye in the reflection, and for a moment everything is still—the faint steam rising from the shower, the muted hum of city life outside your window, and the warmth that passes between you without needing to be said.

You finish up and trail back into the bedroom, changing into your softest oversized shirt—one of his old ones, naturally. When Pedro joins you, freshly showered and warm-smelling, he’s just in boxers, towel still draped over one shoulder. He pauses when he sees you curled up on the bed.

“Are you wearing my ‘Traumatized But Trying’ t-shirt?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, flopping dramatically onto your back. “It’s part of my emotional support outfit.”

He chuckles and climbs into bed beside you, yanking the comforter up over both of you and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you in like you’re gravity. “Can’t argue with that.”

You settle into him easily, your cheek pressed to his chest, your leg tangled with his. He’s so warm—a slow, steady heat that lulls you into a half-doze immediately. His hand strokes up and down your back, lazy and slow.

“You know,” he murmurs after a beat, “I was kinda nervous tonight.”

You look up at him, surprised. “Why?”

He shrugs, his fingers still tracing shapes along your spine. “Fifty’s a weird number. It’s like… it sounds big. Like I’m supposed to suddenly be someone different.”

You tilt your head, watching him. “Do you feel different?”

“No,” he says, smiling softly. “Not really. Just older in the knees.”

You laugh gently, and he dips his head to kiss your forehead.

“I don’t know,” he continues, voice quieter now. “I guess I just kept thinking… what if this is the year things start to change? Like, I wake up and I’m suddenly out of touch, or I start wearing golf polos and caring about HOA fees.”

You grin. “I’d break up with you on the spot.”

He snorts. “Ruthless.”

“I’m just keeping you young,” you say, tapping his chest.

He’s quiet for a long moment. Then, “You do. More than you know.”

You look up at him, and his eyes are soft, serious now.

“I think I would’ve hated tonight if you weren’t there,” he says. “You made everything better. Like always.”

You reach up and cup his jaw, brushing your thumb along the slight salt-and-pepper scruff he’d kept neat for the party. “That’s because I love you. And because you are still very hot at fifty.”

He smiles and turns to kiss your palm, slow and warm. “Even after dancing like a dad at a wedding?”

“Especially after,” you whisper, and he groans playfully, pulling the covers over both of your heads.

“You’re a menace,” he mutters into your shoulder.

“You love it.”

“I really, really do,” he says, kissing along your collarbone.

For a while, the two of you just lie there, cocooned under the blankets, your limbs tangled, bodies relaxed into each other like puzzle pieces finally in place. His hand finds yours again and gives it a squeeze.

“Thank you for coming out with me tonight,” he murmurs.

“Pedro,” you say softly, “there’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

And when the silence settles, it’s not heavy—it’s safe. The kind of silence that’s full of knowing, of shared history and a future already blooming. He buries his face in your hair and hums something tuneless and sweet, and you feel his whole body exhale like he’s finally, truly home.

That’s how you fall asleep—wrapped around each other in the softest tangle of limbs, hearts steady, warmth shared, the quiet magic of knowing this isn’t just a night worth remembering.

It’s a life you’re building—and tonight, you got to dance in the middle of it.

[wvyik]

stoner bf! dean headcanons ⋆˚

dean winchester x gn! reader

ꕤ summary: stoner! dean is all sleepy kisses, vinyl records, and joints rolled just for you. he’s soft when he’s high, clingy in the best way, and swears you’re his soulmate every time the stars come out.

♯ warnings: mdni!! explicit content, 420 we ball, kissing, cuddling, weed naps, clingy stoner bf, movie nights & vibes, lap sitting, food cravings, soft!dean, praise, sleepy makeouts, forehead kisses, domestic fluff, himbo behavior, space talk & soulmate shit, high and in love.

♯ notes: this has been living in my head rent free for weeks. also if he ever passed me a blunt i’d simply fall in love on sight. anyway enjoy my delulu. reblogs = forehead kiss from him <3

HE LOVES GETTING YOU HIGH.. Like he lives for it. He rolls for you, lights it, puts it to your lips, and watches you with those hazy green eyes like you’re his favorite movie.

HIS MUNCHIES ARE CHAOTIC.. This man will eat a grilled cheese with pie inside it and call it “gourmet.” He also thinks Cool Ranch Doritos and peanut butter are “a bomb combo.” You’re stuck enabling him.

HE GETS REAL CUDDLY.. Dean + weed = clingy lil baby. He’s got his arms wrapped around you, face buried in your neck, mumbling stuff like “You smell like heaven, y’know that?” in a deep, raspy voice that’s half-asleep.

HAS A RANDOM URGE TO TEACH YOU POOL.. Halfway through he’s not even holding the cue stick right anymore. “Okay, okay, now bend over. No not like that— wait, yes, exactly like that.” Then he forgets what the lesson was.

STONER MOVIE NIGHTS ARE SACRED.. You two binge Pineapple Express, Half Baked, and Dazed and Confused on rotation. He always quotes Matthew McConaughey’s “alright, alright, alright” and then says you make him feel that way. Ugh.

HE MAKES HIS OWN EDIBLES AND THEY’RE.. WEIRDY GOOD?.. Dean will make weed brownies but then he’s like “what if we did a THC bacon mac n cheese?” and you’re like “pls no” and next thing you know you’re drooling on his chest 20 minutes later after one bite.

DEAN GETS THE GIGGLES SO BAD.. Like, full-on belly laughing over nothing. You’ll say “pass the lighter” and he’s crying like “yo you sounded British for a sec.” He thinks you are the funniest person alive when he’s high.

NOT THAT MUCH FOR BIG TALK WHEN HE’S HIGH, BUT HE’LL ALWAYS FIND WAYS TO SHOW LOVE.. Like making you your favorite drink, lighting candles, or just sitting beside you in silence, holding your hand.

SURPRISINGLY GOOD AT READING YOUR MOODS WHILE HE’S HIGH.. If you’re quiet and anxious, he’s your silent rock, just holding you close. If you’re a little overwhelmed, he’ll softly remind you to breathe and maybe put on some chill tunes.

„WEED NAPS” TOGETHER ARE A FULL ON RITUAL.. He’ll get you both stupid high, pull you into his chest, kiss your forehead, and knock out mid-sentence. You wake up and he’s snoring softly with a dumb lil smile and his hand still on your thigh.

TRIES TO TEACH YOU HOW TO ROLL A JOINT, BUT ENDS UP GIGGLING LIKE A CHILD.. He’s all, “Okay, babe, lemme show you—this is high-level skill,” and then drops the weed all over the table and starts giggling like “shit… ignore that, I got it.”

TALKS TO HIS JOINTS LIKE THEY’RE FRIENDS.. “Alright little guy, let’s do this.” lights up “You’re burnin’ nice, buddy. Real proud of you.” You’re just staring like ??? and he’s chillin’ like it’s normal.

SMOKES OUT OF STUPID STUFF.. “You think I can turn this apple into a bowl?” He does it. Successfully. And grins like he just won the Super Bowl. “MacGyver ain’t got SHIT on me, baby.”

GETS EMOTIONAL OVER LITTLE THINGS.. Like seeing you laugh or watching you tuck your hair behind your ear, he’s totally smitten and might get a little teary-eyed, whispering “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

HIS STONED KISSES? SLOW. METLY. OBSESSIVE.. He leans in real lazy, eyes half-lidded, pupils blown, and just melts into your mouth like he’s never been fed before. You pull back for air and he chases your lips like, “Nuh-uh. More.”

GETS HIGH BEFORE DOING CHORES AND TURNS IT INTO A CONCERT.. Vacuuming in just a flannel (unbuttoned), doing the dishes while singing into a spatula, shaking his hips with a joint hangin’ from his lips. You’re just sitting there, blushing and dying.

GETS WAY INTO ASMR WHEN STONED.. Whispers into your ear like a pro, “Babe, you hear that? That’s the sound of love.” Then he makes weird mouth noises and you’re dying.

SAID „I COULD TOTALLY BE A STRIPPER” ONCE.. Put on ’Pony’ by Ginuwine, tried to do a sexy dance, tripped over a sock, and fell into the laundry basket. You almost passed out laughing. He’s still proud of himself. “Tell me I wasn’t kinda hot tho.”

STILL MANAGES TO BE THE MOST ATTRACTIVE HUMAN ALIVE.. Even with red eyes, messy hair, and a Dorito stuck to his hoodie, he’s somehow radiating sex appeal. Like he winks at you and you’re just like— ugh, fine, let’s make out.

TRIES TO INITIATE SOFT MAKEOUTS AND ENDS UP MAULING YOU.. Started with a forehead kiss. Then a peck. Then a soft little “Hey pretty…” and BOOM now you’re straddling him, shirtless, and he’s breathless whispering “God, I’m so high and you’re so hot.”

“CAN WE HAVE SEX IN THE BUNKER LIBRARY?”.. Deadass high and suddenly asking the most degenerate stuff. “I just think it’d be hot, like, you bent over the table, surrounded by old books. Kinda academic. Kinda slutty.”

LOVES PULLING YOUR UNDERWEAR TO THE SIDE, NOT OFF.. Something about the laziness of it drives him wild. He’s like, “I ain’t wasting time, sweetheart. I want it now.”

LIKES TO MAKE YOU RIDE HIM WHILE HIGH.. Sprawled out on the couch, joint still smoldering in the ashtray, hands on your hips like he’s watching a movie. “Mmm, just like that, baby. Show me how pretty you are.”

LAZY, SENSUAL STROKES.. He’s not pounding you into oblivion; he’s rolling his hips, slow and deep, mumbling “you feel too good… can’t stop…” It’s sloppy. Sweaty. Sooo vocal. Just full-blown “fuuuuck, baby—uhhh—yeah…”

GOES DOWN ON YOU LIKE IT’S A RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE.. High Dean is locked in. Hair pushed back, gripping your thighs like you’ll float away. Will not stop until you’re shaking. And when you’re done? “You taste like heaven. I need another hit.”

PUTS HIS FINGERS IN YOUR MOUTH WHILE HE’S FUCKING YOU.. He’s like, “Suck, baby. Just like that. God, I love those lips.” And then keeps thrusting harder every time your tongue swirls around.

HIGH DEAN GETS DISTRACTED BY HIS OWN DIRTY TALK.. Mid-sentence, he pauses, laughs, and goes, “Wait… did I just say that out loud? Fuck, I’m high as hell.”

LOVES IT WHEN YOU TAKE CONTROL, BUT ONLY A LIL BIT.. High Dean loves it when you tug his hair or bite his lip, he gets that glint in his eye like “Yeah, show me what you got, baby.” But then he always wins with a growl and a kiss that steals your breath.

AFTERWARDS, YOU CUDDLE AND HE’S STILL KINDA HORNY.. Hands back on your ass, mumbling half-asleep, “Round three in like… fifteen minutes. Just lemme nap inside you.”

taglist; @lieutenantchaos @bejeweledinterludes @ambiguous-avery @mostlymarvelgirl @freeluigihesbae @brutuuallove @impala67rollingthroughtown @multiversefanfics @littlesoulshine @starzify @ladykitana90 @idontwannabehere78 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @pieandflannel @tendertulip @tinas111 @everythingisaspectrum @pennywatsonlafayette @lunaleah @cupidzbunny @amsliajskxkxkx @anxiety-prime-max @ninii-winchester @suckitands33 @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @dollyfetti @riteofpassage77 ⊹ ࣪ ˖

⤿ wanna be tagged in my fics?.. don't be shy! @ taglist.

tysm for reading! more works incoming @ library.

[slutzforbueckers]

omg ur paige fic today was so good, specifically the first few paragraphs like the doe eyes and her being needy i love cutesy shit like that. could you maybe do a fluff blurb (friends to lovers) of y/n and paige having a sleepover or smtg and y/n is studying and paige wants to cuddle and then it’s just like cute shit 🙏🏽 pleak

friends do this…right?

♡—pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

♡—warnings: nothing just fluff

♡—synopsis: sleepovers with paige have always been interesting, this one in particular happened to open a new chapter in your lives.

♡— a/n: thank all of you for all the condolences and being so patient!! ily all <333

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

“are you done yet?” paige asked… for the millionth time since you sat down in your chair. you shook your head with a breathy laugh and flipped the page of your textbook, not even looking up. paige groaned and fell back onto the bed, spread out starfish style. “i’m tired.”

“then go to sleep.” you mumbled. paige let out a scoff, annoyed and offended, and that made you look up. her hair was messy from showering and air-drying, her cheeks pink and warm, and she’s giving you those impossibly wide, glassy eyes like you’ve just broken her heart by choosing homework over her.

“this is supposed to be a sleepover.” she sat up and crossed her arms, her bottom lip jutting out in a small pout. your eyes dropped down for a second, glancing at her lips, but you didn’t allow yourself to look longer than that.

you leaned back in your chair and rested your arms over your head, highlighter still twirling between your fingers. “this is a sleepover. you’re over at my house…sleeping in my bed. this is the definition of a sleepover.”

paige rolled her eyes and slid off the bed, her baggy sweats falling back down her legs when she straightened them out. you watched as she walked closer, your body already reacting to her even though all she did was take a few steps into your space. paige circled behind you and leaned down, draping her arms over your shoulders and resting her head in the crook of your neck.

“i want you to lay with me, please? at least until i fall asleep then you can come back to being a nerd.” her breath was warm against your skin as she spoke, it kind of tickled in a way that sent a tingle up your spine. “please?” paige’s voice had that sleepy whine to it and there was no way you could tell her no.

you sighed—mostly to put up a front, like you were fighting harder than you were—and tilted your head to the side, letting it rest against hers. “you gonna fall asleep fast?”

paige hummed and nodded her head, her nose brushing your jaw. she pressed a quick kiss to the side of your neck before pulling back and tugging you out of the chair. you tried to hide your smile as she dragged you to the bed and climbed in, pulling the blankets back to make room for you.

you crawled in beside her, barely settled when she hooked an arm around your waist and buried her face in your shoulder. her voice came out muffled. “see? this is so much better than homework.”

“you’re just clingy.” you rolled your eyes, your fingers starting to trace featherlight lines up and down her arm. it got quiet after that—the kind of quiet that made you wonder if the other person was asleep, but you could feel they weren’t. paige held you tighter, as if you would slip away too soon.

you shifted slightly, your hand now resting against the small of her back. paige’s lashes fluttered at the hand placement and she shifted as well, her leg now draped over yours as she pressed herself closer. your thumb rubbed slow circles against her back, right where her sweatshirt had bunched up, and her skin was warm underneath.

her hand slid beneath the hem of your shirt, just to rest at your waist, fingers splayed, not doing anything but being there. in a way it felt intentional. and then she was looking up at you with those same wide, blue eyes that made you give her everything she asked from you.

you were the one to break the silence—with a small breath at first but then you had to ask: “this is normal, right? i mean like— friends do this…right?”

“we do this.” her voice was quiet and unsure—like she was scared to say the wrong thing. your fingers pressed into her skin slightly, a movement you weren’t entirely aware of. honestly, you weren’t really aware of anything past that point. the next thing you really registered was when paige shifted and her lips brushed yours.

it was tentative at first, slow and barely there. her breath mingled with yours for a while, her forehead pressed against yours. both of your eyes had been closed, something inside of you scared that if you’d open your eyes the moment would disappear and prove it wasn’t real.

but then you felt it—real, sure, everything you imagined and more. paige shifted again, moving so she was in your lap. your hands found her hips and you lightly squeezed, pulling her closer. your lips moved together like fitting the perfect puzzle piece, like you’d been doing it for years.

paige pulled back, her cheeks flushed and lips kiss swollen. you finally opened your eyes and for the first time you thought she was actually nervous. her eyes met yours and you smiled, your chest tightening at the look in her eyes.

“friends do not do this.” you laughed, trying to deflect from how hard your heart was beating in your chest.

“we do this.” paige smiled, dropping her head down onto your shoulder. you ran your hand up her back, tilting your head to lightly bump hers.

“yeah, we do.”

[shewhowillrise]

Sam drags Tucker into Danny’s apartment after they bid Danny good luck on his date. She ignores his protests of her nails hurting and and practically throws him into the living room before slamming the front door. Danny’s neighbor yells something but Sam can’t hear it over her anger.

“What the hell was that? He finally, finally! Goes on a date, and you’re face couldn’t look anymore sour then if you drank lime and pickle juice!”

“Come on Sam, even you have to admit that was an obvious catfish!” Tucker yells back while checking on his arm.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The guy he matched with doesn’t exist! At least not anymore! Don’t you remember the case! The guys name itself was a red flag!”

“I have no idea what you’re going on about.”

Tucker looked at her incredulously, “have you not listened to any of the true crime podcasts I’ve recommended on my blog?”

Sam crossed her arms and just starred at him.

“You haven’t even read my blog have you?”

“I’ve been busy,” Sam defended.

“We’re literally roommates you have not been busy!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sam said putting her arms up in defeat, “what happened there connects to the guy our Danny is going on a date with?”

“Eight years ago Bruce Wayne adopted a boy. A son who likes everything listed on that guy’s profile. Pride and Prejudice, neapolitan ice cream, and favorite color green,” Tucker says as her takes out his phone and starts typing quickly.

“Okay?” Sam says, “what does that have to do with anything?”

“That boy died, four years ago, officially, in Ethiopia. I’ve seen the morgue papers myself. It’s one of the biggest cover ups this century. And his name was Jason Todd,” he turned his phone around to show a picture of a boy. And Sam paused. While this photo was of a teenage boy, it definitely was the same face as the profile Danny showed them a an hour ago. Just more baby fat.

“Holy fuck Danny’s in trouble.”

Breaking driving laws wasn’t something Sam did often in Gotham. Especially this close to night time but her friend was in trouble.

“They aren’t supposed to be at the restaurant for another twenty minutes. We could stake out on the roof-”

“-and risk a bat seeing us-” Sam interrupts.

“-They’ll understand when we tell them, they probably think Todd’s death is also fishy and wouldn’t like a man pretending to be him.”

Thankfully there was an apartment building across the street, with still attached fire escape. It still creaked though.

“Man I fucking hate this,” Tucker says, “how the hell do these not crumble under Batman or Red Hood’s weight fuck”

“Your idea,” Sam says, smirking at Tucker’s yeah I know.

Sitting at the roof’s edge wasn’t comfortable but anything for their friend, anything was worth it.

It was freezing but they didn’t have to wait long for the motorcycle that was as on the guy’s profile to park outside the restaurant.

Sam slapped Tucker’s arm to get him out of his phone and conspiracy boards, “he’s here.”

They watched as he set up the kickstand. The guy was as bulky as the photos were, so Tucker was thinking maybe Jason’s face photo shopped on the real guy’s body.

The guy took off his gloves and shoved them in his side bag. Before closing the bag back up he took out flowers, red spider lilies. Danny’s favorite.

“That’s actually sweet,” Tucker remarks then avoids Sam’s glare.

When the guy reaches for the strap of his helmet, Tucker gets his camera ready. But he doesn’t snap a picture because he’s frozen in shock.

Standing on that sidewalk was the same face from the profile. Only his green eyes glowed when in the flesh. Like Danny’s did.

“Holy shit,” Tucker says, “holy shit Jason Todd’s like Danny.”

“He’s like Danny,” Sam repeats in astonishment.

They both look at each other then start smiling, “he’s perfect!”

They started celebrating by hugging and jumping around, “Danny’s got a soulmate!”

They were shaking each other back and forth by their shoulders when they heard screaming from below.

“Sam! Tucker!” They turned to see Danny, holding the lilies in his hand, and Jason snickering behind him, “what the fuck guys!”

Dead on Main Omegaverse

Jason is having a brothers day out with Dick. The once a month they let the other in on their inner most thoughts.

“So any thoughts of dating?” Dick asked, setting a beer in front of Jason before sitting with his own.

Jason snorts, “An alpha wouldn’t want me.”

“Come on Little Wing,” Dick insists, “a traditional alpha would like the fact you cook and take care of kids well. A non traditional alpha would love your independence and resourcefulness. What’s not to like about you!”

“No alpha wants an omega that can break them in half.”

900 miles away Danny Fenton sits at Nasty Burger with his friends. He was the only alpha in Amity Park that weighed 180 pounds soaking wet.

“Look, there might be someone outside of this small town that likes small alphas,” Sam tries to point out.

“Yeah,” Tucker backs her up, “statistically you’ll find a better match in a global city like New York or Gotham.”

“I did qualify for a Gotham U scholarship,” Danny says. Tucker grasps Danny’s shoulder and shakes it while Sam slaps the table excitedly.

“See!” She exclaims, “already looking at the bright side! We’ll help you pack, set up a dating profile, and plan rogue attack escape routes.”

“Oh! And catch you up to speed on the bats—”

Danny smiled sadly as his friends talked about to do lists and must haves. He’s grateful for them but he knows that there’s no omega out there that would want an alpha they could push over with their pinkie.

[hyruling]

i don’t know and don’t want to know the details of ravi’s landlord status but s9 opens at the firehouse, and buck is like “well i think i finally found a place :/” and eddie’s stomach drops and his heart starts pounding way too fast, but he’s trying to be supportive so he’s like “oh…that’s great, uh, where?” and buck tells him and ravi’s head perks up from the kitchen, and he opens his mouth like he’s gonna interject and eddie sees this behind buck’s head and is like “RAVI. sorry, uh ravi. i need to show you something in the locker room. right now.” and ravi is confused but he follows eddie anyway due to his crush on him after the zip line thing. meanwhile buck is like metaphorically kicking rocks while sitting perfectly still and making sad wet eyes at the floor. and eddie and ravi are gone for awhile and it’s fine, buck’s not even thinking about it. he’s definitely not peeking over the rail either, watching them have a hushed conversation in the lockers. and ravi looks confused but he’s nodding and then eddie puts his big hand on ravi’s shoulder and smiles and buck nearly throws himself over right then and there. but he acts normal and tries to forget about it because the bell rings.

but later they’re driving home and buck tries to pry but eddie is evasive and is just like “i just wanted to talk to him about, um. that new spa he went to last week.” and buck is like “you had to do that in private?” and eddie stutters and is like “i don’t need everyone hearing about my spa habits. anyway should we get breakfast?” and buck drops it but he’s still kicking rocks all day until eddie is like ok What. and buck’s like “you didn’t even ask about the apartment.” and eddie gets all weird and starts picking up the tv remotes and putting them back down and he’s not looking at buck when he says, “sorry, um, tell me about it?” and buck does, but eddie’s still not really looking at him but he’s nodding at all the right times, and then at the end eddie’s asks, “so, you put in an application?” and buck nods and says he should hear back soon, and eddie doesn’t even look sad he’s still just being shifty as hell. and buck knows this was temporary and that eddie’s probably dying for him to leave, but could he at least pretend to be a little bummed. and then buck’s phone rings, and it’s the property calling and they tell him unfortunately his application has been rejected. and buck sinks back on the couch, eddie watching him like a hawk now, and when he asks why they say it’s due to his credit score and okay yeah he really should have seen that coming. but something about the voice is nagging at him as they ramble on about his renter history and whatnot and all the sudden buck’s like, “ravi?” and eddie swears and puts his head in his hands and the person on the phone who is definitely ravi putting on a voice is like, “what? no. this-my name is, uh. steve. steve realtor, shit, fuck. sorry eddie” and hangs up. and eddie is bright red and still hiding his face and buck has to pull and tug at his arms for two minutes straight before he finally looks at him, and he tries to smile all sheepishly at buck but buck’s arms are crossed and he doesn’t even say anything he just stares until eddie says, “i’m not ready.” and buck softens a little and asks, “ready for what?” and eddie says, “for…youtoleave,” all in a rush. and buck can’t help but smile, because he’s not ready either, has never been ready, but it’s been 3 months and at some point he just needed to rip off the bandaid and pick a place. but then eddie shuffles closer and picks up buck’s hand and is about to Say Something when eddie’s phone starts ringing, and it’s ravi, and eddie swears again and picks up and snaps, “you couldn’t have asked someone else to make the call?” and ravi is like “noooo i’m sorry eddie wait, don’t hang up!” but eddie does hang up and he’s still holding buck’s hand and his eyes are so big and brown when he looks at buck and says, “don’t go.” and buck laughs, and curls his fingers around eddie’s, and eddie squeezes his hand in a silent plea. and buck says, “you could have just asked. pretty sure ravi just broke the law for you.” and then he thinks for a second and frowns, and is like “hang on. ravi just broke the law for you.” and eddie grins and says, “sounds like you’re jealous,” and buck says, “of course i am, i’m the one who should be breaking the law for you.” and eddie’s so beautiful when he laughs, and then he’s climbing into buck’s lap and buck is about 2 seconds from having a heart attack but his hands settle on eddie’s hips and they’re only shaking a little when eddie brushes their noses together and says, “stay?” and buck nods and eddie kisses him and kisses him and kisses him.

[kpoplustzone]

My two Step sisters - Chapter 1 - Eunbi

(Diamond and Series tier Exclusive Series)

OC X EUNBI X KARINA

6K WORDS

Junho still felt like he was living in some kind of bizarre dream. One day, his mom had announced she was getting remarried, and the next, he had two new step-sisters. Not just any stepsisters, but the Eunbi and the Karina. Two of the most famous idols in Korea. He used to spend hours watching fancams of them, his hand down his pants, fantasizing about those stunning faces and their incredible bodies. Eunbi with her slightly softer, womanly curves and Karina with that lean, powerful sexiness. And now, they were living in the same house as him.

He had immediately spilled the unbelievable news to his best friend, See Joon. See Joon, a fellow admirer of both idols, had been ecstatic. He practically begged Junho to let him come over and see these goddesses in person. Junho, still slightly dazed by the whole situation himself, hadn't really put up much of a fight. And so, for the past month, See Joon had become a permanent fixture at Junho’s house, much to the subtle amusement (and sometimes blatant annoyance) of his new step-sisters.

Eunbi, the older one, had a smile that could melt glaciers and a way of looking at you that made you feel like you were the only person in the world. Her body was lush, her breasts full and round, her hips curving out in a way that made Junho’s pants feel tight just looking at her in casual clothes around the house. Karina, on the other hand, was all sharp angles and fierce energy. Her dance moves were legendary, and her body was toned and powerful, her abs visible even through a loose t-shirt. Both of them had that effortless idol beauty, the kind that seemed to glow even when they had just rolled out of bed.

Read the full story on Kofi - Membership

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[pieandflannel]

I'm in a Jensen Ackles community, and someone posted that they wanted a fic about the reader liking Jensen's hands. I love your writing and think you could do it justice. If this isn't something you'd want to do, you can ignore this. 😊

They also said they wanna be tagged, @/deanwinchestersgirl8734

౨ৎ ₊˚⊹ veins and vows 🤞

₊⊹ ʚ ₊⊹｡ ⋆ ˚ ⋆ ｡˚ ₊⊹｡ ₊⊹ ୨♡୧ ⊹₊ ｡⊹₊ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ˚ ⋆ ｡⊹₊ ɞ ⊹₊

pairing: jensen ackles x fem!reader

summary: jensen catches you staring at his hands which gives him a cheeky little idea.

cw: 18+ smut/fluff, soft dom!jensen, sub!reader has a hand kink, teasing, praising, breast & pussy play, established relationship (married), jensen is a teasing menace.

word count: 987

julia yaps: thank you so much @multiversefanfics for thinking about me it’s so sweet and considerate of you. i didn’t get much details about what you wanted so I hope this is okay 🥺

────────── ୨ৎ ──────────

“you’re staring sweetheart” said jensen with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, his gaze focused on the script he was currently reading through.

you snapped out of your thoughts and went back to cutting the vegetables for dinner, your cheeks catching on a slight shade of pink, feeling flustered that he caught you staring at his hands. “sorry” you murmured.

but at least he couldn’t read your mind right? he couldn’t tell you were imagining his hands roaming all over your body in a meaningful and sensual manner, his big hand wrapped around your throat as with his other hand his fingers work you open, slowly, one finger then two, maybe three. his thumb circling your swollen clit.

he couldn’t tell you were thinking all that right?

but come on can you blame yourself? his hands are so pretty but at the same time so masculine, decorated with age, kissable freckles and veins, a watch on his wrist, tattoo on his thumb and a silver wedding band on his finger that represented his undying love and loyalty for you. you shamefully worshipped your husbands hands as if they were sculpted my michelangelo himself, and he secretly knew it despite you trying to hide it.

he glanced up from his notes and couldn’t help but smile softly as he noticed just how embarrassed you were at him catching you gawking.

an idea popped in his head, he cleared his throat, putting down all the papers onto the table and he stood up, taking his empty coffee mug and walking over to the kitchen counter. his walk was slow, almost like a predator creeping up on it’s prey.

you looked up and flashed him a smile before going back to focusing on not cutting your fingers off with the kitchen knife.

jensen put the coffee mug down by the drip machine, pressed the button to make more coffee and walked behind you, his broad physique towering over your smaller one. his front pressed up against your back.

he gently placed his hands on your hips and pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, then another one on your neck and lastly onto your shoulder.

“babe~” you let out a giggle as his beard tickled your delicate skin, your cute little giggle making him smile. he gently squeezed your waist before snaking one of his hands up your shirt, moving higher up, just below your bra.

your breath hitched slightly as you tried to focus on slicing the vegetables and not his hand placement, but jensen made it real hard when he sneaked his hand under your lace bra to cup your breast. his hand big and warm.

his other hand gradually shifting lower and lower, his fingers playing with the waistband of your shorts. “babe wha-what are you doing?” you managed to stutter out with a smile.

he hummed in your ear, a big smug smile on his face. “nothing” he replied with an innocent tone which you didn’t fall for. “mhm sure” you chuckled and playfully rolled your eyes.

his hand softly massaged your breast, his thumb brushing against your hardening nipple which made you let out a shaky breath. you had to put the knife down in order not to hurt yourself or him by accident. your lips parted as your breathing became heavier.

“you know what i’m thinking of right now?” jensen whispered into your ear, his breath tickling your neck which sent shivers down your spine.

“n-no?” you accidentally whimpered out. he couldn’t help but smirk at how worked up you seemed to already be.

his veiny hand suddenly leaving your breast and gripping you teasingly by the throat, his fingers wrapping round you deliciously.

“having my hand wrapped round your throat as my other hand plays with your pretty little pussy” his other hand sliding into your shorts and panties, his middle and ring fingers finding their way between your folds with practiced ease. “oh would you look at that, sooo wet, already?” he teased in a slightly mocking tone as he spread your arousal with his middle finger, using it as lube.

you gasped out as he suddenly brushed against your bundle of nerves, your hands weakly grabbing a hold onto his wrists which only made him chuckle. you tilted your head back, resting it on his muscular shoulder. his facial hair brushing against your temple.

his hand teasingly tightening around your throat as his thick digits circled your clit painfully slow, a soft moan slipping your lips. your eyes closing as your back arched leading to your ass brushing against his crotch. “j-jensen..” you breathed out his name like it was some secret.

“shhh shhh it’s okay sweetheart” jensen cooed into your ear, his fingers sliding up and down your slit. “just focus on my hands, in your panties and around your neck…you’re doing so good for me sweetheart” he praised, his words making you melt right there on the spot. he gave your cheek a soft kiss and continued to play with you.

as tension was building up in the pit of your stomach, your grip on his wrists became gradually weaker. jensen could tell that you were getting close by how your body tensed up underneath his touch.

then suddenly his phone started ringing, jensen couldn’t stop the small smirk forming on his face, he was waiting for this important call for a while now, knowing damn well he will leave you waiting, on edge and unsatisfied until later.

“i gotta get that, it’s important” he whispered with a smirk before giving you another soft kiss on the cheek and slowly pulling away, reaching into his pocket for his phone with one hand and licking off your arousal from his other.

“i’m not finished with you yet” he said, giving you a cheeky little wink before picking up the call and walking away into the living room.

thank you so much for reading! feedback and reblogs are always deeply appreciated <3

tags: @jensino @emeraldcrs @soldiersgirl @jensenacklesballsack @missus-ackles @littlesoulshine @deanswifeyy @slut4jackles @h8aaz @bittersweetfig @angelicjackles @losers-clvb @lyarr24 @cowboysandcigarettes @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @rositaslabyrinth @deanspookiebear @tinas111 @bejeweledinterludes @miss-marmalade @pinksatinpanties @multiversefanfics @cupidzbunny @sunnyteume @lunaleah

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© reserved for photo/gif owners!

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[bucketsorbueckers]

No Hard Feelings - Chapter 7

Paige X Azzi

warning: language

A/N: for once, i'm not sorry. have fun :) happy sunday.

word count: 6K

Azzi’s POV

Last Year

It wasn’t anything elaborate. Just dinner.

Azzi had picked the spot. A little place near campus with string lights and soft music and those booths where you could sit side by side instead of across from each other.

She’d texted Paige the time. Even picked out the outfit she knew Paige liked. Jeans and the oversized cream sweater that always made her smile.

And Paige said she’d be there. “7:00. I’m yours.”

Azzi got there at 6:45. Ordered water. Checked her phone. Waited.

When 7:02 rolled around, she wasn’t really nervous. Paige was prompt, typically, but Paige was also busy. The spotlight she’d always existed in had somehow swelled—so large now that the light nearly eclipsed everything.

And Azzi understood that. She really did.

Sometimes, things came up. Things Paige couldn’t plan for. Things that weren’t her fault. So Azzi breathed through it. Smoothed the hem of her sweater. Picked at the condensation on her glass.

Even when the clock hit 7:11. Even when the server came by again, smiling too gently. Even when the door kept opening and never revealed the face she was waiting for.

She told herself to wait five more minutes. Then five more after that.

By 7:25, she wasn’t checking her phone for texts. She was just watching the minutes pile up, quiet and heavy and stupidly hopeful.

The waiter stopped by. Awkward. Kind. Pitying in a way he probably didn’t mean to be.

“Still waiting?” he asked, glancing at the empty seat across from her.

Azzi nodded. Sort of. There wasn’t much conviction left in it. A half-smile. A polite maybe.

By 7:35, though, she felt silly.

Not furious. Not even disappointed, just…stupid. For thinking maybe tonight would be different. For getting ready a little too early. For straightening her hair and putting on makeup she didn’t even really like. For trying.

She pulled her sleeves down over her hands, stared at the flickering candle in the middle of the table. Willed herself not to look at the door again.

It was just a dinner, she reasoned. But it was one she had planned. For them. Because they hadn’t had a them moment in a while, and she thought maybe it would help.

Especially with the tournament starting in two days. She’d figured this would be good, for them, for Paige, for her. A moment to breathe before the pressure sank its teeth in. A reminder that they existed outside of wins and stats and noise.

Finally, her phone rang. She exhaled before picking it up, already bracing for the shape of the apology.

“Az,” Paige’s voice came through, rushed and familiar, like it always was when she realized too late.

Azzi didn’t say anything. Just waited.

“I’m so sorry. The podcast ran over. I tried to get out of it but my manager made it clear it was a big deal and so I just. Azzi, I’m sorry. Are you still at the restaurant? I’m on my way.”

Azzi looked down at the table—half a water glass, a candle nearly burned out. The napkin she’d folded and unfolded three times.

She dropped it gently beside her plate, stood.

“No. I left a while ago.” A beat. “No worries, P. I know you’re busy.”

And it wasn’t even a lie. She did know Paige was busy. Her life spun faster than most people’s. Always somewhere, always someone needing something. It was the cost of being extraordinary. Azzi had never resented that.

“No,” Paige pressed back. “I’m not ever too busy for us. For you.”

Azzi bit down on her bottom lip as she threw a few bills on the table. Just a tip for their time and the awkwardness she knew she had made them feel. And as she headed out, she felt a bit upset. Nothing to cause a scene but enough to let it boil over. 

“It’s fine, P. I know I’m not your girlfriend. You don’t owe me anything.”

There was a beat. Just long enough to hear Paige inhale.

“Azzi,” she said quickly, “you know—”

But the line went dead. Azzi blinked at the screen, frowning. Blank. Dead. She sighed as she put the car in drive and headed back to campus. 

Around an hour late, a knock. Sharp. Too fast. Like whoever’s behind it was pacing.

Azzi blinked at the door. It was well past 9 PM. No one knocked at this hour unless something was wrong.

Azzi opened the door slowly. And there she was. Windblown, flushed, heart in her hands, literally. Paige. 

A bouquet of daisies. Azzi’s favorite. The kind she mentioned once, offhand, after a road game. A bag from that bakery in West Hartford—chocolate croissants with the flaked salt she loved, still warm. And tucked beneath it all, a small card with her name on it. In Paige’s handwriting. Slanted. Rushed.

She looked like she hadn’t taken a full breath since their phone call. 

“I know you said I don’t owe you anything,” Paige blurted, “but I owe you this.”  She stepped forward, arms overflowing, eyes too bright. “You didn’t think I wanted you to be my girlfriend?”

Azzi didn’t say anything. Not right away.

“You never asked,” she said finally.

Paige let out a soft laugh. Half breath, half nerves. “I didn’t ask because I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

She was holding the bouquet like she hadn’t realized she’d been crushing it. Azzi’s favorite, of course. Because Paige always knew. She looked at her, like the next sentence might actually hurt.

“You scare the shit out of me,” she said. “I didn’t think you’d give me the chance.”

Azzi’s eyes narrowed, but not unkindly. “Paige. We’ve been doing this for months.”

Her voice was flat, but her ears were burning. 

Paige shrugged. “Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d let me say it out loud.”

Azzi stared at her for a long second, then shook her head. “You’re such an idiot.”

“An idiot with croissants,” Paige said, holding the bag up slightly.

Azzi rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away.

“You could’ve asked,” she muttered.

Paige grinned, wide and relieved and so painfully her.

“Why do you think I’m here?” she said, already setting the flowers and the croissants down on Azzi’s desk like she’d planned this out, even though they both knew she hadn’t.

Then she turned, suddenly shy in a way Azzi almost never saw.

“Azzi Fudd,” she said, grinning. “My best friend. My favorite person. The only one who tells me when I’m being insufferable and somehow still likes me anyway…” She took a breath.“…will you be my girlfriend?”

Azzi just stared at her for a second. Long enough that Paige started shifting her weight, like she was already preparing to get turned down. But then Azzi smiled. Small. Real. The kind of smile that tugged up slow, like she was trying not to let it show too much.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “Yeah, okay.”

Paige let out the kind of breath that sounded like she’d been holding it for weeks.

“Cool,” Paige said, cheeks pink. “Cool cool cool.”

Azzi grinned. “Someone once told me Paige Bueckers doesn’t get nervous.”

“Yeah, well,” Paige said, tilting her chin up like she hadn’t just brought a pastry peace offering and confessed her feelings. “That version of Paige Bueckers didn’t have a reason to be.”

Azzi snorted. “Sure. Generational player. Plastered on screens and billboards. Fighting to be one of the best to ever do it. No pressure.”

Paige shrugged, lips tugging into a smirk. “Yeah, but that version had never asked the Azzi Fudd to be her girlfriend.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but her smile was stupid-wide.“You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” She said. “But I am your girlfriend.”

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. 

“Say it, Az.” Paige said. Azzi tilted her head. “Say I’m your girlfriend.”

Azzi couldn’t even try to bite back her smile, “You’re my girlfriend, Paige Bueckers.”

“You’re fucking right I am,” She muttered, popping a bite of croissant into her mouth before closing the space between them. 

The bus came to a harsh stop in front of the hotel. Unexpectedly.

Azzi blinked hard, her head jerking off the window. Around her, the team stirred in slow waves. Hoods pulled back, tangled legs uncurled, groggy voices muttering about food and beds.

She grabbed her bag and followed the shuffle into the lobby, where room keys were being handed out one by one. CD looked exhausted already, trying to get the already exhausted group to focus for five seconds. 

“Fudd,” she called.

Azzi stepped forward, took the sleeve, and glanced at the number: 535. She flipped it over.

Roommate: Bueckers.

Her stomach dipped.

“Wait,” she said, too quietly at first. Then again: “Wait—sorry, I usually room with Caroline or Jana.”

CD didn't even look up. “Jana requested Caroline. Said they’re in some group project together for a psych class and needed to finish a big chunk of it this weekend.”

Azzi blinked. “They don’t even have a class together.”

Across the lobby, Jana was gesturing wildly with a manila folder, holding it up like it contained nuclear codes, while Caroline sat slumped in a chair, mouthing I hate you with the full force of someone who absolutely did not sign up for this.

Azzi tried to catch either of their attention, but they never looked her way.

“And Nika?” Azzi asked.

The assistant coach was already moving on to the next name. “Azzi, take the key and go get some rest.”

Azzi stared at the card. Room 535. Bueckers.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t roomed together before. They had. For years. But not since…everything.

She took a breath. Stuffed the card into her hoodie pocket and headed toward the elevator.

Paige was nowhere in sight. Not in the lobby, not at the front desk, not trailing behind anyone else like she’d gotten stuck signing something or charming the staff. Azzi figured she’d see her soon enough. She always did. Paige had this uncanny way of showing up exactly when you’d finally stopped waiting.

The elevator creaked open and Azzi stepped inside, one of the freshmen yawning beside her like she hadn’t just slept for two hours on the bus with her forehead pressed against the window.

Fifth floor.

She followed the numbers—529, 531, 533—and paused in front of 535.

The card key beeped on the first try. A small miracle given her experience. 

Inside, the room was dim and quiet. Two beds. Two lamps. One of everything. And her body ached to just fall face-first into one of them. But routines mattered. Especially on the road. Especially this early in the season, when everything still felt fragile and unearned—rhythm, chemistry, trust.

So instead of collapsing onto the mattress like every inch of her skin was begging her to, Azzi did what she always did: she dug through her bag, found her floss, and started there.

Standing in the hotel bathroom with the fan humming overhead and the fluorescent light making her look just a shade more exhausted than she felt, she threaded the floss between her teeth.

Normalcy, maybe. Control.

Her reflection blinked back at her. Dark circles, tight shoulders, a flash of something in her eyes she didn’t feel like naming.

Halfway through the process, she heard it. The door. A soft beep. The thud of it opening.

And then, Paige’s voice. Muffled. Half-laughing. Mid-conversation.

Azzi froze, floss still looped between her fingers. She hadn’t realized how quiet it had been until Paige’s voice filled the space. Or how much she’d been bracing for it.

The door clicked open just as Azzi was rinsing the mouthwash out of her mouth.

She turned, hand still on the faucet, to see Paige standing there. Bag slung over her shoulder, hood half-up, blinking like she'd just walked into a memory she wasn’t ready to remember.

She froze in the doorway. Like Azzi was the last person she expected to see.

“Az?”

Azzi nodded once, trying not to choke on the minty flavor still clinging to the back of her throat. She grabbed a towel, dabbed at her mouth, and leaned her hip against the sink.

“You didn’t know I was your roommate?”

“No,” she said. Honest. Like she couldn’t even pretend otherwise.

Azzi kept her face steady, even as her stomach coiled. “CD didn’t mention?”

Paige finally stepped inside. Set her bag down carefully, like she was trying not to disturb something fragile.

“Guess not,” she said. “I thought I’d be with Nika.”

Azzi nodded, once. Clipped. “Well. Surprise.”

Paige let out this little exhale. Not a laugh, not quite. More like the sound someone made when they weren’t sure what else to offer.

Azzi turned back to the mirror. Unscrewed the cap on her face wash. Let her fingers move the way they always did. She needed that. Needed something to do with her hands.

Behind her, Paige didn’t move. Still standing like the room wasn’t hers yet. Like Azzi’s presence took up too much space.

“Haven’t picked a bed yet,” Azzi said, eyes closed tight as she rubbed the cleanser into her cheeks. “Feel free to grab whatever.”

The words seemed to break whatever spell Paige was under. Kickstart her back into motion. She finally shut the door behind her with a soft click.

Azzi stayed in the bathroom a little longer than necessary. Slow. Methodical. Borderline dramatic with each step. A delay. A stall tactic. But eventually, there was nothing left to do. She stepped back into the room just in time to catch Paige mid-change, half undressed.

“Oh god,” Azzi blurted, immediately covering her eyes. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

“Az,” Paige sighed. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

And somehow, that made it worse.

When Azzi finally peeked, Paige was already changed. Her usual oversized t-shirt and boxers…so familiar it formed a chasm in Azzi’s chest.’

The shirt was the same one from last year’s tournament. Soft with age. The logo cracked down the middle. Azzi had stolen it once for an entire week and Paige hadn’t even asked for it back. The same boxers she always wore to sleep, the ones she insisted were the only kind that didn’t bunch up because she moved a lot when she slept. The way she stood, arms crossed over her chest, hair falling in that exact way it always did when she was a little sleepy. 

Memories started stacking. Fast. Sloppy. Unmanageable.

The way Paige always tucked her hair behind both ears before bed.

The way she used to stretch her legs across Azzi’s lap without asking.

The way that shirt used to smell like them.

Azzi blinked. Swallowed. Tried not to let any of it show on her face.

“Done with the bathroom?” Paige asked, voice tight, polite.

Azzi nodded, her mouth dry.

Paige didn’t say anything else. Just offered a quick smile and moved past her with careful steps. Like even brushing against her would’ve been too much. And Azzi stood there, stuck somewhere between nostalgia and nausea.

The sound of the toilet flushing knocked her back into the present.

She turned toward the beds and saw that Paige had taken the one near the window.

Of course she had.

Azzi wasn’t surprised. Paige knew she hated mornings. The way the light cut through even the heaviest hotel curtains, always finding the one sliver of skin left exposed. It made her grumpy, disoriented. Paige used to tease her about it. Used to guard the window like it was her job. And now she’d chosen the window bed. Not to provoke. Not to be kind. Just… because she remembered.

It was a terribly damning thing: to be known that well by someone who wasn’t yours anymore. And worse still, to feel the knowing in your bones, and want it anyway.

Eventually, Paige came back.

They didn’t talk about it. Whatever it was. Just moved around the room in that too-careful way—like if they touched the wrong thing, the whole thing might collapse in on itself. They both climbed into bed with a sigh too synchronized to be accidental. The lamp between them stayed on.

Azzi was tired, but the wrong kind. The kind that settled in her bones and buzzed behind her eyes. The kind that made her too aware of everything—the way the sheets felt too stiff, the hum of the air conditioner, the sound of Paige shifting under the covers like she was trying not to make a sound.

Paige sighed. Not dramatically. Just… enough.

“Hey, Az?” she said softly.

“Mm?”

“You wanna watch a movie? Love and Basketball?”

Azzi didn’t answer right away. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Screen lit up with Cam’s name. FaceTime. She had promised she’d call once they were in for the night. And she’d meant to. She really had. She just hadn’t expected this.

She looked at the phone. Watched it vibrate against the wood, inching closer to the edge like it might throw itself off if she didn’t decide soon.

Then she looked at Paige.

Glasses slightly crooked. Hair still damp from the shower, curling at the ends. A little star-shaped pimple patch on her cheek like she forgot it was there. Paige. Not perfect. Not polished. Just…hers. In all the ways that mattered. In all the ways that hurt.

The phone buzzed again. Azzi didn’t flinch. She didn’t sigh. She didn’t explain.

She just reached out and hit Ignore.

“Sure,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

And Paige smiled.

Paige’s POV

Paige fumbled with the cords, trying to get her laptop to mirror onto the TV. Her fingers were clumsy with it. 

Usually, Azzi would just crawl into her bed. No discussion. No hesitation. They’d watch the movie on her laptop until Azzi fell asleep, head tilted toward her shoulder like she didn’t mean to.

But Paige knew better than to ask for that now.So she didn’t. Just went full tech-mode instead, pretending she wasn’t trying to fill the silence with HDMI cables and remote settings. 

Finally, the movie flickered onto the screen and Paige exhaled, the tension in her shoulders loosening just slightly.

“There we go,” she muttered. She backed away from the TV, retreating to her bed like it might swallow her whole if she let it. She tugged the blanket up to her chin, even though it was too warm for it.

She kept her eyes on the screen. Not on Azzi. Definitely not on Azzi.

The opening notes of Love & Basketball filled the room—soft, familiar, painfully specific. It was their movie. The one they always said they’d never get sick of, even after a hundred rewatchings.

Paige could practically hear it before it even started: Azzi pretending not to mouth the lines, Paige pretending not to watch her do it.

She remembered the first time they’d watched this movie together.

How Azzi had curled into her side without asking. How Paige had gone stiff for maybe five seconds. Long enough to catalog the heat of Azzi’s shoulder, the press of her thigh. Short enough to convince herself Azzi hadn’t noticed.

She didn’t remember most of the movie. Just the way Azzi smelled like vanilla shampoo and chlorine. The way her breath landed soft against Paige’s collarbone, steady and unbothered. Like she’d done this a hundred times. Like Paige wasn’t sitting there trying to remember how to breathe.

She’d kept her eyes on the screen, nodding along like she was following the plot, but her heart had been screaming something else entirely.

Something terrifying. Something gentle.

Something that sounded a lot like: oh.

She already knew she liked girls. That part wasn’t new. But this felt different. It wasn’t the idea of love that scared her.

It was Azzi.

Azzi, who didn’t need to say much to be heard. Who was careful with her words and even more careful with her eyes. Azzi, the prettiest girl Paige had ever seen.

Paige stared straight ahead and pretended to follow the plot, but all she could think was: Is it supposed to feel like this?

Like awe.

Like falling.

Like maybe if she looked down, she'd see her heart sitting there in her lap, cracked open and waiting.

They were eighteen then. Too young to call it love and too far gone to pretend it wasn’t. And lying here now, years later, Azzi a few feet away, Paige could still feel it.

That same oh. That same ache. That same, stupid, impossible kind of love that had never left her, not really.

And still, Paige just stared at the TV. Kept her face neutral, her breathing even. The movie played on.

But eventually she lost the war.

Her eyes dragged away from the screen like they had a mind of their own, landing on Azzi across the room, curled up under her blanket, face lit soft and golden by the TV glow.

She looked the same and entirely different. The same slope of her nose. The same stubborn crease between her brows when she was thinking too hard. But something about the distance, about the space between the beds that used to not exist, made it all feel unfamiliar.

Azzi hadn’t looked over once. Not when the movie started. Not when Paige picked this movie of all of them. Not even when Monica let Quincy into her room like it was the easiest decision in the world.

Paige swallowed, suddenly aware of every inch between them. She turned back to the screen. Let it play. Let the dialogue hit her chest and echo there. But she didn’t laugh at the funny parts. Didn’t smile at the familiar ones.

They were nearly three-quarters through the movie when Azzi’s fidgeting got so persistent it pulled Paige out of the trance she'd been forcing herself into. At first it was small. Blanket shifts, the soft rustle of cotton against skin. But now it was rhythmic. Anxious. Like something in her couldn’t sit still anymore.

Reluctantly, Paige dragged her eyes away from the screen. Azzi was already looking at her. And Paige inhaled—sharp and shallow—like she’d been caught in the middle of a confession.

It wasn’t fair, the way Azzi looked at her. It stripped away all of Paige’s common sense, like it always had. Plucked any reasoning she’d carefully stitched together over the past few weeks and tossed it out the window like it had never mattered.

Because it didn’t. Not really. Not when Azzi looked at her like that. Like they were still in love. Like none of the distance even existed. Like Paige hadn’t cried in her car for forty minutes just last week because she missed her person. 

Paige felt her chest tighten. Her body remembered this look. Her skin did too.

She used to think that if Azzi ever looked at her like this again, she’d say something brave. Something honest. Something like don’t leave again or I never stopped or you ruined me and I let you.

But it wasn’t any of those things.

It was something more broken. More battered. More hers.

“Fuck, Az,” she rasped, voice catching like it hurt to say. “Please come here. Please.”

Azzi’s eyes widened. Just a flicker. Barely there. But Paige caught it like she always did. That soft edge of surprise, the way her breath caught, the way her fingers tightened in the blanket.

For a second, she didn’t move. Like she needed a beat to decide if she’d imagined it. If Paige really meant it. If this wasn’t some cruel trick of memory and low lamplight.

Then—slowly, like the world might shatter if she got it wrong—Azzi shifted. Tossed back the covers. Crossed the space between them like it hurt. And Paige just watched her come closer. Watched her come home.

Paige lifted the comforter without a word, scooting toward the middle of the bed, making room like it was instinct. Like her body remembered even if her mind was still catching up.

Azzi hesitated for just a second, like she didn’t know if she was allowed, before crawling into the space that had always belonged to her. She tucked her knees to her chest, careful not to take up too much room. Like she didn’t want to be a burden. Like she thought this might still be temporary.

And Paige stayed where she was. Kept the space between them. Because she should. Because she was supposed to. Because reaching for her might mean admitting something that she couldn’t take back.

But even with the inches between them, her body softened. Uncoiled. Deflated in the best, most dangerous way. Like finally, finally, she could rest.

Paige watched as Azzi reached out, her hand trembling just slightly as it hovered near the lamp.

“Okay?” Azzi whispered.

Paige couldn’t trust herself to speak. She made a sound. A half grunt, half exhale that must’ve been enough, because a second later, Azzi clicked the switch. And the room was swallowed by darkness. It was the kind of dark that made every breath feel louder. The kind that pressed in around them.

They lay there, inches apart.

Close enough that Paige could feel the heat of Azzi’s body radiating under the blanket. Close enough that she could smell her shampoo. That warm, familiar vanilla one that used to cling to Paige’s pillows long after she’d left.

Paige stared up at the ceiling she couldn’t see. Paige stared up at the ceiling she couldn’t see. Her fingers ached to move. To reach. To close the smallest distance she had ever felt so violently aware of. But she didn’t. She stayed still.

Seconds stretched into minutes. But Paige could tell Azzi was still awake. She didn’t need to look. She knew the difference.

Azzi had a way of breathing when she slept. Soft and steady, like the world couldn’t touch her. Paige used to stay awake just to listen to it. Used to lie there in the dark, barely blinking, afraid that if she closed her eyes she’d wake up and find it was all some cruel dream.

She’d memorize the rhythm. Count the beats between inhales. Trace the shape of contentment in every exhale.

She’d never told Azzi that. Never admitted how long she stayed awake most nights, just watching her sleep. Just trying to believe that she got to have this. That she got to keep her.

And now they were here again. Bodies curled close, breaths shared in the dark.

Paige had almost convinced herself not to hope. Almost convinced herself that Azzi would fall asleep first, that the silence would stretch until morning and they could pretend this never happened. That lying side by side in the dark, hearts beating too loud, didn’t mean anything anymore.

But then, a whisper. So soft Paige almost missed it.

“Paige?”

She stiffened, the sound of her name pulling her from half sleep like a tide. She rolled onto her side, careful not to jostle the space between them, even though it barely existed anymore.

“Hm?”

"Can I ask you something?" Azzi’s voice, barely a breath.

Paige turned her head on the pillow, heart thudding. “Yeah.”

A pause. Long enough that Paige thought maybe she’d changed her mind.

Then: “Do you still think about it?” Azzi asked. “About us?”

Paige blinked into the dark.

“Every day,” she said. No hesitation. No point in pretending.

Azzi was quiet again. And then, even softer,

“Will you hold me?”

Paige’s breath caught. She didn’t speak. She just shifted. Closed the distance they’d both been pretending not to notice. Reached for Azzi under the covers, pulled her close.

Azzi melted into her like she belonged there. Like she always had. Her head tucked beneath Paige’s chin. A hand resting gently at her waist.

They lay like that for a while.

Tangled limbs and silence. The kind of quiet that wasn't empty but full—thick with everything they hadn't said and maybe still couldn't. Paige’s fingers moved in slow, steady circles against the bare skin of Azzi’s back, like she was trying to memorize her all over again.

“Paige?”

Her name, again. Soft. Almost afraid. Paige closed her eyes. She’d heard her name in packed arenas. On highlight reels. Echoing through speakers loud enough to shake the floor. She’d heard it shouted by coaches, screamed by fans, printed in headlines.

But nothing ever touched her like the way Azzi said it. Like it wasn’t just a name. Like it still belonged to her. The girl underneath all of it. Just Paige. As she was. As Azzi had always seen her.

“Yeah?” she whispered.

Another pause. The kind that made her heart crawl up into her throat.

“I’m sorry,” Azzi choked out. The words barely made it past her lips, like they’d been caught in her throat for weeks. Maybe longer.

Paige froze, her hand stilling against Azzi’s back. She didn’t need to ask what for. She already knew. All of it. The leaving. The silence. The terrible, aching gap that had lived between them for months, growing roots in all the places love used to be.

Azzi’s breath stuttered. “I was scared. Of what it meant to keep you. Of what it would do to lose you. Of not being enough for either. So I left before you could realize I wasn’t.”

Paige felt the words like bruises blooming across her chest. She tugged Azzi closer, wrapping an arm around her like she could anchor her there. She didn’t speak because she knew Azzi wasn’t done. Knew she needed the words out of her body, spoken into the dark where they could breathe.

“I missed you so much it made me mean,” Azzi whispered, voice trembling. Paige closed her eyes. Let the ache rise. Let it settle. “I’m never mean.”

That made Paige laugh. Not loud. Not happy. Just...a sound, cracked open from somewhere deep. 

“And I’m sorry,” Azzi said. “I know you deserve more than that but—”

Paige didn’t let her finish.

She leaned in and pressed her lips to Azzi’s before the spiral could pull her under. It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t rehearsed. It was instinct. Tenderness. The only way she knew how to say you’re here now, and I still want you anyway.

Azzi stilled. Then melted like her body had been waiting for permission to exhale. And in that quiet collapse, Paige tasted everything.

The apology. The ache. The impossible kind of wanting that clung to the bones no matter how many times they tried to shake it loose.

That kiss wasn’t a fix. But instead a soft, trembling maybe that they both desperately needed.

When she pulled away, Paige could just make out Azzi’s face in the faint light bleeding through the window. Shadow and softness and everything she’d almost forgotten how to survive without.

“I know,” she whispered, and it came out gentler than she meant. Like forgiveness wrapped in silk. “I know.”

She reached up, brushed a thumb across Azzi’s cheek, caught a tear before it fell. Let her fingers linger.

“But not right now,” she murmured, barely more than breath. “Please.”

Azzi stilled. And Paige closed her eyes.

“I just want to hold you,” she said. “We can ruin each other tomorrow. Tonight, I just want this.”

Azzi didn’t speak. Didn’t argue. Just gave the smallest nod. Barely a movement, but full of meaning. A truce. A surrender. A yes, okay, I’ll let you hold the weight of this, just for tonight.

Then, slowly, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the curve of Paige’s neck. Not in apology. Not in desperation.

But in something quieter. Something closer to reverence. Like she wanted to leave a part of herself there, just in case she couldn’t find the words later.

Paige’s breath caught.

And then Azzi curled into her chest, like she wanted to disappear into the shape of her. Like if she pressed close enough, deep enough, they might become one person. One heart. One body that didn’t know how to stay broken.

Paige held her tighter. Her chin rested on Azzi’s head, her hands at her back, their legs tangled, inseparably so.

And then, Paige closed her eyes.

She waited for the sound of Azzi’s breathing to slow. It didn’t take long, just a few minutes of quiet, curled-up stillness, and then there it was. That rhythm Paige knew by heart. 

She existed in it for a while. Let herself feel every inhale, every exhale, like they were proof. That Azzi was here. That this was happening. That she hadn’t imagined her way into another night of almosts.

But she didn’t let herself believe it was permanent. Not yet.

She just held the girl she loved, like maybe if she stayed still enough, the world wouldn’t notice. Wouldn’t ask them to name it. Wouldn’t make them say all the things they were still too scared to speak aloud.

And if this was all they got…

This night, this silence, this impossible closeness, then Paige would take it. She’d memorize it. Stitch it into the lining of her ribs. Carry it like a secret she never wanted to let go of.

That night, Paige Bueckers slept. Really slept. For the first time in weeks, her body unknotted, her mind quiet. Not because it was fixed. Not because they were okay. But because Azzi was in her arms, and that had always been enough.

And when morning came—when sunlight broke through the curtains and laid its golden weight across the bed like a question—Paige didn’t flinch.

She didn’t pull away. She pulled Azzi closer, pressed a kiss to her temple, and whispered something so soft it barely reached the air.

Stay.

Not just for now. Not just for this.

But for everything.

[lyssakinzzz]

Hey, can I request a fic where the reader is Remmick's soulmate, but she's really leary of him cause why is this white man at her door in the middle of the night? Remmick's been watching the reader for months finding out the things she likes, her hobbies, etc. He leaves her gifts and trinkets and tries to court her properly, but it's Remmick, so he still comes off weird. Eventually reader lets him in and he gets to properly explain. Reader knows she has a soulmate, but she didn't expect them to be an Irish vampire, but Remmick grows on her.

THAT'S SO CUTEEE. Anyways you were first so you get first write!

You felt his presence outside, he was watching you again, he always gave you dreams, sometimes wet, sometimes it would be wholesome and sweet. You tried everything to severe your connection with him, spiritual baths, rituals, getting one of his gifts and getting rid of them.

They connection would only grow and grow. It was insanity. You had enough of it, you grabbed the gun your brothers gave you when you moved in, and stalked outside.

"Hello?" You called out, and you turned around to face him. He had a bright grin on his face.

"Oh the nightgown I got you makes you look at pretty as a picture, doll!" He grinned stepping closer towards you.

You point your gun at him and he chuckled.

"Now, I don't want any trouble i just wanted to check on my dove..." He stroked the side of your face.

"Oh you're just cuter, when I can actually see you, angel." He smiled, his eyes raking over your figure.

"Oo...let me why don't we chat for a while, hm?" You could feel something change in him, he got more persuasive, something in his eyes just switched.

"You obviously look big enough to walk your big ass up in here, right?"

You questioned, your eyes raking over him.

"But where's the manners in that?..." He smiled as you slowly crept inside.

"You think I'm just gonna let a white man into my house?" You questioned, as you put your gun away and locked the door.

Now, what was he doing wrong! Remmick thought as he sighed and crept off, he was quite hungry and he could tackle this tommorow.

-------

The next night he came bearing gifts and peered into your window. He smiled as he held up the Basket. You groaned and went to the door and opened it.

You took the basket and examined it, it had all the things you've been praying for in there, all the stuff of your dreams.

"How did you know what to get me?" You peer in the basket.

"I know everything about you, my love!" He smiled. He seemed to have had a good heart.

"Invite me in?" He suggested, but it was more a kind demand.

"You must think I'm stupid to let a vampire in." You shot back, he looked surprised.

"I love me a smart woman!" He exclaimed as he inched closer to his own set barrier. "Seriously, let me in...I'll show you a good time." He smirked as he begged just a bit. You cock your brow and give him a look. He gave you soft eyes,which he seemed to have mastered.

"Come in." You finally say as you watched him waltz in, you never turned your back to him. He sat down and patted the spot next to him.

"C'mere." He smiled as he pulled you close and sat you down.

"Why're you here? Wanna play with your food or..."

"We're soulmates, dove." He answers. You laughed loudly.

"I'm soulmates with an werido vampire! Cmon I'm not even that stupid!" You chuckled but he seemed serious.

Oh?

Oh.

"Thats insanity!" You smiled. "I'll prove it to you..." He smiled as he stroked your hand, you flinched at the coldness.

He ran his fingers up your thighs, and slowly got on his knees and tried to lift your nightgown.

You give him a stare and he just stands back up.

"Well then, I'm hungry...best be on my way." He grunted as he walked out the door.

How the hell did you manage to attract a vampire?

-------------

You heard the familiar knock and ran to the door. Why the hell did you run to the door. You thought as you opened it to see a familiar grinning face.

"Hey, lass" he smiled as he kissed you, you can taste the familiar coppery taste on his breath, with some kind of cigarette. You kissed him back.

"You gon let me in or let me stay out here in this heat" he cocked his head as you let him in.

"Go on and get clean!" You yelled as you went to your bedroom and laid down. You bamboozled yourself. How did this werido, dorky Irish vampire grow on you. He kissed you with blood on him and you didn't give a fuck, you thought as you sat up and cleaned your mouth. You heard the shower run as he cleansed his body of its impurities, you fix yourself up a bit in your hand held mirror and laid down.

You heard the water stop, and watched him come out with a towel around his waist. You shot up and patted the spot next to you, he laid down his weight shifting the bed a bit as he cuddled into you and kissed your forehead.

He brought you warmth even though he had none in his body, he gave you love despite not having a heart, and he gave you sympathy without having a soul to understand.

[nadvs]

oh my god hear me out, rafe making reader read a book of hers while he eats her out........ please!!

I LOVE THIS IDEA. I COULDN’T STOP WRITING 🙂‍↕️ it got filthy. blurb set in the power play au. 18+!

Rafe comes back into his dorm room to see you curled up on his bed, your finger between your lips.

“Hey,” you say, your eyes still on the open book in your hand. “Sorry, I’ll finish this chapter quickly.”

He smirks to himself, putting down the paper bags of food he went to grab on campus while you stayed in his room to read.

You’d offered to go with him to get dinner, but when he said you could stay, you plucked a book out of your bag with an excited smile on your face.

“You must really like it,” he murmurs, taking out containers.

“Yeah,” you say absentmindedly.

“What’s happening?” he says, mainly to mess with you. It’s too fun to tease you to resist doing it.

“Huh?”

“What’s happening in the book?” he asks.

“She’s finding out he lied about everything,” you murmur.

“About everything?” he says, feigning shock.

“You’re mocking me again,” you say with a smirk. “I’ve been waiting for this to happen for like, 200 pages, okay? It’s a big deal. You’re distracting me.”

He looks over his shoulder to see you readjust in place, your knees slightly spreading apart as you tilt your head in concentration.

Rafe can’t help it. His eyes trail down your thighs, to where your shorts end, imagining how soft your skin is, how pretty the most sensitive part of your body is.

“It’s not my fault,” he says, finishing unpacking everything.

“It kind of is.”

“Nah, it’s not,” he answers, closing the distance, sitting in the middle of his bed.

You shift your feet under his leg, eyes still on the page.

“I can’t hear you,” you whisper.

A smirk pulls on the corner of his lips as he drags a few fingers down your inner thigh.

“Can you feel me?” he murmurs.

You finally meet his eyes, your stomach twisting from the way he’s looking at you.

“Keep reading if it’s so interesting,” he says. “Let’s see if you can focus.”

You lick your lips, exhaling a shudder once his hand settles on your core, expertly finding your clit over your clothes, his thumb firm against you.

You buck your hips forward when he presses harder, earning a chuckle from him.

“Read,” Rafe instructs in a breath, shifting to dip his fingers at the band of your shorts, pulling them down.

You lift your hips, allowing him to take off your shorts and panties in one smooth motion, your middle already aching to be touched.

You spread your legs open all the way for him, feeling the air press against your skin.

Rafe’s pulse skyrockets watching you do that for him, just as eager for this as he is.

He gazes up at you, but you immediately direct your eyes back to the page, as if you can even concentrate on any words when you’re seconds away from his mouth on you.

He shifts onto his front, his fingers splayed under your thighs, pushing down so that your hips tilt higher, your knees closer to your ears now.

He usually takes some time kissing your thighs, but this time, his hot open mouth meets your flesh immediately.

Your gaze goes from your book to his eyes as you exhale in a shudder of pleasure.

“That’s not reading,” he taunts, his breath warm on you.

You softly laugh, in agony, looking back down at the page. You try, you really do, but the feeling of his hot tongue pressing and flicking against your folds makes it unbearable.

Rafe’s grip on you tightens as you get wetter with every passing second. He fucking loves the way you taste, loves getting his mouth and chin and jaw drenched in your arousal.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe.

“Something crazy happen?” he teases. “Read it out to me. I wanna know.”

“Um, I…” You sigh as you find the words on the page. “The end of my sentence hangs in the air between…”

You shut your eyes the moment his lips lock around your clit, the lewd sound of his sucking filling the room. He pulls back, making you groan in frustration.

“Between…?” he mocks. “Keep reading if you want my fingers inside you.”

“Rafe,” you moan.

“So, you don’t?”

You grip the hardcover as you gaze at the page again.

“Hangs in the air between us,” you continue. Rafe smiles against you, the pretty, breathy way your voice strains when he’s pleasuring you spurring him on. “The near-empty parking lot sprawls before me, and I…”

The pressure of his long index finger slowly sinking into you compels you to squeeze your eyes shut in pleasure again, dipping your head back against his pillow.

“Damn, baby, I didn’t know you were such a slow reader,” he teases, his blood hot from how tight you are around him. “I thought you were better at this.”

“Don’t,” you moan as he slides his finger out, punishing you for not following his instructions. You pop your eyes open again, looking at your book. “And I brush my hair back. The sounds around me are muffled. His words aren’t coming through to me.”

Rafe slowly pushes two fingers into you this time. You clench around him, your entire body writhing as he laps at your clit, curling into you, stretching you so perfectly.

You look down at him again, his hair tousled and his eyes trained on you, your face twisted in pleasure.

“The end,” you say, tossing the book to the floor, lacing your fingers in his hair in case he tries to pull away again.

He shuts his eyes, savoring your taste, revelling in how badly you want this, how you stand no chance in ignoring how good he makes you feel.

You start to roll your hips, rubbing against his face as he pumps his fingers in and out, his tongue flicking, his lips pulling at you with the perfect suction.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Don’t stop. Please.”

His hand on the back of your thigh digs deep into your flesh, an inch away from pain.

The knot in your gut snaps and you climax with a deep moan, every bit of you melting into soft relaxation.

Rafe’s jaw is sore, his lips numb as he kisses you over and over, glistening lines of spit and arousal dragging between you, your body twitching beneath him.

He sits up, pressing a hard, rough kiss onto your lips, giving you a taste of yourself. You cup his face, breathless, in awe.

Rafe smiles when he looks over the side of the bed, your book flat on his floor.

“You didn’t last long at all,” he says.

“You’re so much better than a book,” you reply with a lazy smile. “And I never thought I’d say that about a person.”

He chuckles against your lips, kissing you again, loving the feeling of knowing that he’s the only one who can undo you like this.

[notsodelirious]

do you think you could write something about jason being switchy? like maybe he acts mean in public but when you corner him when you're alone he's subby IDK 😭 i've loved everything you've written for him so far i'll take anything , you're one of the only authors on tumblr who just gets him yk?

did it take me a month to get to this request? maybe, but here you go :3

synopsis: you’re out with friends and get a little bored

notes: NSFW MDNI, nothing more to add other than Jason is grumpily resistant but into it (not rlly enough for me to tag it dubcon, he folds like immediately)

tags: reader somehow being a bratty dom, buttplugs, rimming, fingering, explicit pictures, sub!Jason, mirror sex (at a stretch), 1.5k words, gn!reader

here’s my masterlist <3

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

He held you all night—an arm wrapped around your waist, nursing a beer with the other hand. He spoke softly as he held you between his legs, his hand on your ass, his thumb brushing against the skin just above your waistband.

It was just a simple outing with friends, both his and yours, to celebrate somebody’s something or another. It didn’t matter. You were just happy Jason had agreed to come, step out the house and socialise.

Even if he did it with his hackles raised the entire evening.

You laughed along easily with friends, letting him hold you as close as he wanted—it was an easy compromise to make: you enjoyed being close to him, he felt better holding you against him. Maybe it was all that trauma he had seen as a vigilante. Maybe it was resource guarding. It didn’t really matter to you.

People teased him, joked that nobody would take you away from him but he didn’t let up, even as you laughed along.

The proximity was just getting you hot and bothered and that was okay.

You’d been at the bar for a couple of hours by the time you decided to do something about it; you opened your phone and sent a text to Jason.

You smiled as you saw him abandon his beer and reach for his phone instead.

It was a picture.

It had been taken at your apartment, captured in the mirror that sat in front of your bed for moments just like that one.

He was riding a dildo, fat and black, visibly stretching him open as he rested his head in your lap like a loyal dog, his cock laying untouched and engorged on his lap, red and leaking.

His watery gaze was in the reflection, the overstimulation and pleading so defined in his eyes.

It was one of the times you had seen the big bad Red Hood on his knees and crying for you, and you were going to immortalise it, forever.

He looked at his screen, placing it back down as quickly as possible without being suspicious.

“Now?” he hissed as he looked down at you, alarmed but not disinterested.

You smiled; his dick was slowly hardening in his pants.

“Aren’t you pretty?” you whispered softly, rubbing his thigh, creeping too high occasionally.

“You little shit-”

“You like taking it like a good boy don’t you?”

He didn’t nod but his head jerked a little as he faltered and lost his words.

“I’m going to the bathroom—join me in 23 minutes, okay? Right on time or you don’t get anything.”

His jaw clenched as he swallowed back more choice words for you—you kissed his cheek before sauntering off to the bathroom.

You were confident nobody had noticed your interaction—Jason was a naturally anxious and jerky person, nobody would question how quickly he put his phone down or the reluctant way he let go of you so you could head off to the bathroom.

Nobody would question why he checked his watch or glanced towards the hallway or tapped his fingers against the counter.

Nobody would question why he stood and went down after you.

The bathroom door opened exactly 23 minutes after you’d walked in.

You looked up and smiled at him before beckoning him closer, watching as he locked the door behind himself before obediently stepping forward.

You sat on the counter, legs swinging as he parked himself between your legs, letting his face be held in your warm hands.

“Eager are we?” you smiled cheekily as you tilted your head and he kissed you, like he was reluctant and begrudging about it as you happily kissed him back.

“Shut up.” His words were nothing more than a breath against your face.

“Does somebody need their dick played with?” You could see his blush, even in the dim lights of the toilet, the flickering doing nothing to hide his blown pupils.

“No.”

“Are you sure?” You place a hand on his shoulder as you force him back just enough to hope off the sink and walk around him, trailing your hand down his arm. “Take your shirt off for me, baby?”

He followed your request without further ado, pulling off his tight fitting shirt.

“Fuck, you’re even built like a pornstar,” you said teasingly as you stood behind him, letting your hands trail across his chest, his collarbones before gently brushing your thumbs against his nipples, watching him bite his lip and swallow back a moan.

“You like seeing yourself, baby?” you utter softly, looking at him in your reflections as you play with his nipples, pulling and rubbing them, watching them grow puffy and swollen as he panted.

“You look so good when you’re happy and fucked out, just a satisfied slut.”

“I’m… I’m not-”

He groaned softly as you harshly pulled his nipples one last time before letting him go, letting your hand drift along his belly instead and reaching down to palm his impressive bulge.

You undo his trousers before you’re tugging them down, underwear and all, until his cock was springing up, slapping him in the stomach.

“You know, you have such a pretty cock,” you said, jerking him softly, wrapping your hand around his dick, stroking the tip teasingly with your thumb, watching him squirm a little in the mirror. He gripped the counter, digging his nails into cheap plastic, moaning softly.

“Please,” he said softly, “Please, I need-“

Your fingers squeezed around the base of his cock, almost painfully, listening to him whine.

“S-sorry,” he mumbled before you could comment.

“Good boy,” you smiled as you let him go to grab his balls instead, “Lean over for me?”

He obeyed easily, bending over the graffitied bathroom counter, presenting his pretty ass to you, and the pretty jewel nestled between his cheeks.

You smiled excitedly, taking hold on the base and tugged softly, watching his tight asshole struggle to stretch over the wide end of the plug.

He whined as he dropped his head when it finally stretched over it, before you pushed it back in easily, cherishing the sound of his broken moans.

“You like that, baby?” you mumbled softly watching as he pressed his cheek to the filthy counter—the sweat on his lower back and brow glistened in dim, flickering red light, as did the lube coating his ass and thighs. “Like being stretched open, don’t you?”

You pulled his plug completely, watching it slowly struggle to clench closed, his loose asshole winking at you. You smile at your old work, gently prodding his puffy rim, watching him squirm and moan.

“Cute,” You parted his cheeks with both hands, making his hole stretch just a little more. “Your body was made for this, wasn’t it? Made to be stretched open like a proper whore.”

Your thumb pushed against his rim, making him whine and squirm, just enough to tease still sensitive nerves.

You pet him softly for the minute before you were pulling away, replacing it with two fingers instead, running the pads of your fingers against his soft, warm walls.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he mumbled under his breath, his chest brushing against the counter top, puffy nipples pressing against the cold surface.

“Shh, baby boy,” you hushed softly as you pressed down just right, making his legs shake as you teased his prostate, “They might hear you if you’re too loud. And then everybody will know how much a slut you are, won’t they?”

He nodded furtively, accepting your word as law, gratefully accepting clean fingers as you shoved them into his mouth, making him choke and drool.

You ducked down to lick a long stripe up her ass, catching on his rim, swirling your tongue before pulling away and spitting on his ass, making him jolt ever so slightly.

You pulled out to shove your tongue into his loose, lubed hole, smiling against his skin as you prod his walls. You stuff him full of your fingers again, stretching him just a little further.

He whined.

He tensed with a moan, eyes rolling back as he clenched around you, his legs shaking as his cock twitched.

Your fingers bullied his prostate as you drooled against him, lewdly devouring his ass, like you were making out with his loose rim.

You knew he was close, so close, but you didn’t help, not until he was cumming untouched and loudly.

He cried out as cum spurt violently from his cock, painting the already sticky floor white, legs trembling as he struggled to keep him up.

You pulled out of his ass and mouth, wiping your hands on his naked thighs before reaching for your phone, angling it to capture his debauched form strewn out in front of you, in the gonnherea infected bathroom, capturing his gaping ass and fucked out face.

You patted him on the butt when you were done, carefully pushing his buttplug back in place, smiling as it easily slid into place like his ass was meant to be stretched open like this—before helping him dress himself and freshen up.

He held onto you, taking a moment to centre himself as he tried to recover and regain control of his face.

“Just a couple more hours of this okay?” you said softly as you straightened his jacket and pushed his hair back; he leaned into the touch, exhaling softly. “Then we can go home.”

“You owe me for this.”

“I know, baby.”

“…can we stay here for five more minutes?”

You smiled as you let him rest his head on your shoulder and just held him.

“Yeah, baby, we can.”

You stepped out to the jeers and snickers of the group, some of the group gently elbowed Jason.

“Get lucky in there, dude?” one of them asked, to which Jason simply rolled his eyes, distracting him from the pain in his asshole.

“Yeah,” you said happily as you walked back to where you had been stood from half an hour prior, “He did.”

Jason glared.

“You so owe me for this.”

You grinned at him brightly, “I know.”

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

I hope you liked this and it kind of answers your prompt! I’ve had this idea half written forever but I just never wanted to edit it

also, I love every single one of you who love my interpretation of subby!Jason, even more so because I’m literally just a 19 year old virgin with a blunt and a dream but I appreciate you all the same

sorry for the delay on my requests, they’re closed for the time being but here’s my master list (again) if you want more

comments and reblogs appreciated <3