#maybe send me asks... smiles at you so sweetly. only if you so desire... and I'll get to them when I'm back!

[faresong]

your time to shine!

+ this bonus ytts sketch i might clean up later. I'd like to draw the yabusames and q-taro as well, but... it's been a rough few weeks!

[buckysfaveplum]

invisible string

summary: with the Emergence looming, the Eternals reunite; only Druig knows where you are, but he hasn’t seen you in two centuries, and maybe you like it that way

pairing: druig x eternal! female reader

word count: 4.7k

warnings: mentions of war, violence, druig’s use of mind control on reader, that’s all i think? idk

a/n: sooo i don’t think anyone reads druig fics anymore buttt i rewatched Eternals and liked it soo much more on rewatch and im obsessed with druig again so yeaaa i hope yall give it a chance? luv ya ;)

masterlist | send requests

575 BC - Babylon

Your legs laid out peacefully across the lapaz stone you rested on. Soft chatter filled your ears as village girls twisted your hair into soft braids, weaving bright orange and white flowers in. Your hands fidgeted in your lap as you sat patiently for the young humans. You didn’t mind, every second you spent with them was precious, especially the children.

The girls wrapped the end of your hair, pulling it forward to show you their work. You smiled softly at the youngblood, admiring their fragile work. The humans never ceased to amaze you.

“Il likrubk,” you said sweetly. May the Gods bless you.

As you admired the braid, you began to hear excited yet secretive giggles from the girls circling you. Looking up, you saw the girls chuckling at each other yet trying to hide it from you. You shifted your gaze from them to look to your side, seeing Druig walking over. When you looked back, the girls ran off, leaving a trail of laughter and flowers in their wake. You just smiled smugly to yourself.

“My, my they did a beautiful job on you,” Druig’s voice was intoxicating, it always was to you. Slick and sly, always with a bit of wit and mystery; dripping with a hidden intention only he knew.

“Do the flowers suit me?” you asked.

“Everything suits you, my radiant Y/N,” he said. You ducked your head, desperate to hide the blush blossoming across your cheeks.

He crouched beside you, resting beside you with his charcoal cape flowing across the stone ledge. From the peripheral view of your gaze at the city below, you could see him eyeing you up and down. His eyes were hungry with desire and adoration. His head tilted as he smirked, leaning in and giving you a soft nudge with his shoulder.

“We should get going, back to the Domo. I think Ajak wants to speak with all of us,” you said, nervously trying to shift the mood to hide your butterflies.

“Ahh is that so, dove?” he said, leaning back on his palms and flashing a dangerous smile at you- doused in charm.

“Yes!” you said, hopping up and offering your hand to him. “Now come on, we can brave Icarus’ obnoxious tirades together.”

His head dropped in laughter and suddenly your stomach was twisted in knots, lungs short of breath. He was beautiful. He grabbed your hand and pulled you off towards the ship. You kept it to yourself, but you couldn’t help but relish in his firm and protective grip on your supple hands.

Present Day - Amazon Rainforest

“Druig, this is serious,” Sersi said, standing from her seat in the chapel to face the dark-haired man. 

“I’ll tell you what’s serious. I’ve just been told I’ve been sent on a suicide mission for the past 7000 years, and that my entire existence is a lie,” Druig snapped, confronting her as he stalked forward. He was always able to keep such a serene and stoic demeanor. Yet, seeing his “family” together again after centuries seemed to have left him shaken. There was something eerie about seeing them all together. All except one. “So excuse me for not giving a shit about your plan right now.”

Druig turned and stormed to the door to leave, hoping to erase the encounter from his memory as soon as possible. If only he could warp his mind the way he could others. The sooner he left the room the sooner he could go back to his life, pretending they had never come.

“Don’t you think Y/N would want you to help?” Sersi asked.

Druig froze as his hand hovered at the door. He felt the muscles in his mouth twitch at the mention of your name. Bile in his stomach churned. He tried to stay calm, to keep himself composed, but he couldn’t bite his tongue. Before he could stop himself, he spun around, marching back over to them.

“Don’t mention her. Not to me,” he said, his jaw taut with anxiety and dread. “You don’t know what she’d want. Besides, she’s not even here.”

Sersi couldn’t respond before he had bolted out of the chapel, leaving the barn doors slamming behind him. The tension hung in the room so thick you could almost choke on it. Thena sighed, stroking the lizard perched across her lap, before speaking.

“You should know something about him and Y/N.”

1521 AD - Tenochtitlan

You stood beside Druig, leaning into the hard muscles of his side. You had tried to control your fear, but it always seemed to get the best of you. He kept you grounded- safe and secure. You cherished that, needed that. Especially now.

Thena tried to kill you and Makkari; she attacked the entire group. Druig had to carry you to Ajax himself. You were trembling in his arms as your legs shook and bled. Even now that you were healed, he couldn’t get himself to remove his grip on your waist. You knew she didn’t mean to harm you, she wasn’t herself. This was something else. Mahd Wryry. 

“It is not important if you remember or not,” Ajax said, her hands slipping through Thena’s hair as she tried to calm her. Trying to convince her everything would be okay, that it was no big deal. But how could it not be, she would lose her memories; all the experiences and life that made her Thena. “Your spirit will remain, you will always be Thena deep inside. Trust me.”

“Why should she trust you?”

You looked over, hearing Druig’s deep voice speak up. You could feel his grip on you tighten yet his hands still shook. Your brows furrowed, noticing the tension in his neck and jaw. You tried to stroke his back, to calm him down, but he was already fed up. His hand gave your waist one last squeeze before leaving your side. You suddenly felt the cold chill of his absence as he walked towards Ajax.

“You’re asking her to let you erase who she is,” he said. You knew him better than anyone, you could hear the tremor in his voice. His tone was callous and dripping with resentment. 

“Dru…” you said, trying to get him to relax. Your voice must’ve been too soft to drown out the boisterous drums in his head, playing that same beat of rage and disappointment over and over again.

“Druig, I know you’re upset, but-” Ajax tried to get him to understand, but he wasn’t having it anymore.

“Upset?!” Druig shouted. You were startled, stumbling back a bit at the tone of his voice. “We’ve trusted you for 7000 years, and look where you’ve gotten us.”

You bowed your head, knowing his resentment over the last seven millennia was finally bubbling over and unleashing on everyone in the room. You had listened to his troubles on countless nights. You knew how much it tormented him to watch the humans he cared for so deeply harm and destroy each other. You were always his shoulder to cry on, his to seek solace in. This was nothing new to your ears.

“I’ve watched humans destroy each other when I could stop it all in a heartbeat,” he said. You ducked your head, hearing the shake in his normally strong voice. You knew if you glanced up you’d see that quivering bottom lip you’d become so acquainted with. You couldn’t do it, you just looked down. “Do you know what that does to someone after centuries?”

You noticed Sersi and Phantos glancing at you, perhaps hoping you’d step in. They all knew of your confusing relationship. You’d never labeled it, never defined it out loud. Never confessed undying love in a secluded dwelling, soon to wed surrounded by family. But there was something. Something that kept you tied at the hip, something that allowed him to hold your hand and rest his head in your lap. There was something undeniable.

But you couldn’t say anything; to an extent, you understood Ajax. Druig knew you didn’t adore his power. You would never hold it against him, you’d never blame him for what Areshem gave him. But you believed it was a gift that had to be used responsibly. You had expressed to him it was something you believed should only be used in dire circumstances- to save a life or prevent disaster. But you knew something that made humans so special was their conscious free will and autonomy. You couldn’t rob them of that.

“Could our mission have been a mistake?” Druig asked, “Are we really helping these people build a better world, huh?” 

You glanced up to see he had turned to look at you. The single tear slipping down his cheek stung in your chest. You could see it in his eyes as if he was pleading for you to say something. To beg him to calm down, to just talk. To take his hands and pull him to you. But you didn’t.

Druig’s jaw clenched as he turned on his heels, making his way out of the temple and down the steep set of stairs. His thick cape wrapped against your legs on his way out. You couldn’t hear his words as he stepped outside, the raging war filled your mind as you contemplated your role in your mission.

“It ends now,” Druig said. 

Suddenly, you hear the clashing of swords and screaming come to a halt. You knew his eyes would be glowing a vibrant gold if you could see them. Before you could say anything, Ikaris swept past you; his arm slammed Druig into the stone wall behind them. You felt your stiff legs break free, bringing yourself to the pair desperate to break them up.

“Let them go,” Ikaris said.

“You’re gonna have to make me,” Druig said. 

“Please stop!” you said, coming up beside them. Your hand reached for Druig’s but Ikaris stood between you. You felt Ajax approach behind you, sending Ikaris a stern look. He backed away, leaving the three of you. You stepped forward, taking Druig’s hand in yours. It shook as it gripped yours with vigor. 

“If you want to stop me, you’re gonna have to kill me,” Druig said. 

His hand slipped from your grasp. He turned away from you with a soft look before descending the temple. You watched as his eyes glowed and the humans below stood in wait for him. You glanced back at Ajax, your eyes pleading for her to stop him. But she did nothing, instead nodding for you to follow him. You ran down the stairs, your legs still weak and recovering. You stumbled as you chased him.

“Druig!” You shouted as you caught up to him, “Please wait!” 

Hearing your messy footsteps, he stopped and turned to see you. Worry overtook his eyes as he watched your weak legs attempt to keep up with him. Quickly, he met you a few stairs up; his hands grasped your arms to hold you steady.

“Hey, what are you doing? You’re recovering,” he said, his concern for you halting his current plans. The yellow in his eyes dulled away as he looked at you. His brows trembled and unease widened his eyes.

“Druig, please don’t leave,” you said. Your hands reached for the fabric of his cape, as if holding him tight enough would keep him there with you. “Tensions are high right now, I get that. But please don’t leave.”

“I have to go, dove,” he said. His thumbs rubbed soft circles into your arms.

“Don’t leave me,” you said. 

Druig’s gaze dropped, returning to your shaking legs. His stomach knotted and his chest ached at the thought of leaving you. Not being there to hold you in the night. To see your smile each time you saw the sparkling constellations in the sky. To soak in the look you reserved just for him, teeming with adoration and something else he was too afraid to name.

“Come with me,” he said, still guarding his gaze.

“Druig, this isn’t the answer,” you said.

Finally, he locked eyes with you again. He could no longer hide the red burning in his eyes, the tears coming to the surface. You knew this wasn’t the way, isolating himself, taking control of humans. You knew this wasn’t the answer. Not for the rest of time.

“You should stay,” you said, desperate to get him to listen. 

“You won’t come?” he asked.

You just looked down. 

He had his answer. Before you could get another word in, he took you and sat you on the steps. Steadying you into a more stable position. His hand tangled into the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling you close one last time and pressing a long kiss to your forehead. You felt his tears soak into your skin before he pulled away. His hand began to slip from yours as he turned to leave, but you stopped him. Perhaps one last attempt to keep him there with you.

“Please, Druig,” you said. He glanced up, noticing Ajax watching the two of you from the temple.

“Sersi will help you down,” he said, swiping his thumb tenderly across your hand before pulling it away.

And just like that, he was gone. 

Present Day

Druig leaned against a sturdy tree, staring up at the stars peaking through the brush above him. He couldn’t shake your voice from his head.

You were right. 

This wasn’t the way. He had kept those people safe, he knew that. But as Sersi asked him to free them as the Deviant raided their village, he felt it. For the first time, he felt like the bad guy. He couldn’t shake the thought. He knew if you were there, if he had listened to you, none of this would have happened. 

Perhaps Ajax would still be alive. Gilgamesh definitely would be. That was on him.

“Druig?” the voice startled him, shaking him from his thoughts as he saw Sersi approaching. She quietly stood beside him, glancing up at the stars he had just been studying.

“She was right,” Druig said, sinking to the ground as he hugged his knees to his chest. “Maybe I’m just as bad as the deviants.”

“What?” Sersi said, resting a hand on his knee. “Who said that?”

Druig just glanced at her, swallowing the hard lump forming in his throat.

“She would never, ever say something like that to you, Druig,” Sersi said. “Y/N adores you.”

“She didn’t have to say it,” Druig said, fidgeting with the pendant on the cord dangling from his neck. The soft texture of the blue and white glass slipped between his fingers. “How could she not think that?”

“Druig, Thena told us what happened in Molyvos, Y/N wrote to her. When was the last time you saw her?” 

“I don’t know, at least a century. She used to come visit here, but after a while, she stopped. I went to see her in Greece. That was the last time I saw her.”

Sersi sighed, watching as Druig clutched at the necklace in his hand. 

“We need to find her Druig. And we need you, please. For Y/N?”

1826 - Molyvos, Greece

Druig watched as your feet danced down the stone steps of the village to greet him, the thick linen of your skirts tickling your ankles as they flowed around you.

“You came!” you said, giggling as you reached him.

He couldn’t contain the infectious smile that seemed to spread across his face at the sight of you. His hands grabbed for your soft body, lifting you as he held you close. Your laugh trickled into his ear as you burrowed your face into the crook of his neck. He took in the potent scent floating off you as he set you down; seawater, wood, and roses. 

“So this is where you’ve been spending your time lately, huh?” he said, nudging you with his shoulder. You smiled to yourself as you took his hand. 

“This island is so calm. It’s what you’ve always wanted,” you said, leading him up the stairs.

-

You’d spent the following days guiding him through the village and showing him your life; how it intertwined with the people in your small community. Fishing, sewing clothing, and selling fruits at the market. It was peaceful, something he’d always longed for. 

You reminisced on your days together all those centuries ago. Holding his head in your hands, soothing the pounding aches in his head from all the thoughts of others swirling through his mind. You knew it couldn’t have been any better back in the forest. 

Sure, all the times you visited it was calm. But was that where he belonged? Isolated with no one to watch over him and make sure he was safe. You saw how drained he’d been, taking care of everyone else. And you couldn’t shake the feeling that the village would be fine without him. Not that he wasn’t valuable, but they needed to live a life of their own. So did he.

You’d hoped bringing him here would convince him. Give him the push he needed to finally leave it all behind and focus on him. To let the village flourish on its own. 

You sat with him on the stone wall along the steps winding up to your home. Overlooking the sea below you, the waves crashing against the harbor and swaying the fishing boats tethered to the docks. The winding branches of white wisterias shaded the two of you, petals of the flowers occasionally blowing across your face in the wind.

You glanced over to Druig, the tunic he wore loose on his chest. His hands, normally wringing in his lap, were soft and relaxed. He gazed around the island before him, a smile subtly placed on his face. He may have been the mind reader, but you were his. You knew him so well, that you could read him like an open book. Even if he didn’t want you to. He was happy. You knew he wanted to stay.

“This is for you,” You said, reaching out to hand him the small trinket. He turned to see your sweet face, your eyes sparkling as the sun danced in your irises. He looked down to see you’d placed a small glass pendant in his hands. He studied the object, smiling to himself as he turned it in his fingertips.

“It’s an evil eye, the humans here believe it will protect you from evil spirits,” you said as you watched him. “It has to be gifted to you by someone, so I wanted you to have this.”

“It’s beautiful, dove,” he said. 

Red splashed across your cheeks like watercolors at the name. He had always loved calling you that, watching you fluster before him in search of a response.

“You should stay,” you said, glancing down at your hands. You picked at the lace trim of your long blouse. You’d thrown the thought out into the open, and expressed your deep desire to him. You just hoped if he was going to reject you, it wouldn’t be as painful as you imagined.

“Y/N, you know I can’t,” he said. Quickly, he slipped the pendant into his pocket and stood from his seat on the wall. He felt the sudden urge to flee, to return to the village. He couldn’t be there any longer. Because if he had to say no to you again, to leave you while you begged for him to stay another time, he would crumble. How could he not when he was denying everything inside of him that pleaded for him to just stay?

You began to panic as he walked off. You couldn’t let him leave again.

“Dru please, you can’t keep doing this,” you said, following after him. “You have to live your life.”

“I have a life, that village is my life,” he said, turning back to you.

“You should let them go, Druig. It’s time,” you said, taking a step forward. “Come stay with me.”

“Y/N, that village is important to me,” he said, struggling to find a reason you weren’t right. Deep down, he knew you were right. 

“And I’m not?” you asked.

Druig furrowed his brows in distress, fearing he couldn’t make the right decision. Why couldn’t he just stay? Just be happy here with you? 

As the thoughts swirled in his mind, he felt the tension in his head building. The headache pounded harder in his skull as he watched you turn on your heels and make your way up the stairs. With a hand holding the tender space on his forehead, he chased after you.

“Dove, please wait,” he said.

“Just go, Druig,” you shouted over your shoulder. “If that’s what you want, then go!”

“Please, just stop!” he said. He could feel the pain building, the panic in his chest growing. He couldn’t leave you on a bad note again.

He pleaded behind you as you left him, chasing you up the stairs and begging for you to just stop.

“Y/N please!” He shouted desperately. 

Suddenly, you stopped. As if your body wasn’t your own, you turned to face him. His eyes were glowing yellow and you couldn’t move. 

Before you could even grasp what was happening, it was over. You shook your arms as control returned. Druig’s eyes were his normal blue. But they were distressed, regretful, and panicked. He messed up.

He controlled you.

You froze, this time of your own doing, considering what had just happened.

“Dove, I’m so, so sorry,” he said, rushing towards you; the realization of what he’d accidentally done dawned on him. 

Quickly, you took a fidgety step back away from him. He paused, taking in the situation. You were afraid of him. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, tearing his eyes from your line of sight. “I didn’t realize I, I’m sorry.”

Finally coming back to yourself, you tried to reach for his hand. But he had already left.

Present Day - Belfast, Ireland 

Druig walked up the steps to the ornate building in front of him. Sprite and Thena followed behind as he took in the large campus. It was only fitting that you'd end up teaching at a university. You were one of the smartest people he knew. And you loved to watch the humans grow and learn.

He waited on the steps as students filed out of the building. Sprite had figured out when your class would let out. Now he just had to wait. 

The sea of lively students chatted amongst themselves as they rushed from the doorway, he desperately searched the crowd for your familiar face. When he finally saw you, it was as if the breath was knocked from his lungs.

You hadn’t changed much. But two centuries of fashion did take him by surprise. Instead of the modest, linen dresses he’d last seen you in on the coast of Greece, you wore a loose pair of grey pants, a long and flowing cream blouse, and brown flats. He never got tired of seeing how each culture and century dressed you.

Before he could turn back to the women behind him, he felt something tick in his brain. When he glanced back at your face, he saw your eyes meeting his. He could have sworn his brain was malfunctioning, you smiled at him.

You stopped in your tracks as you took him in through the crowd of people passing between you. He looked the same. The same clothing, the same hair. But what was new was the evil eye strung around his neck. 

You couldn’t help the smile that broke across your face as you locked eyes with his blue ones. Your head gestured back to the building behind you, before turning back inside hoping he’d follow.

-

“So you’re saying I’m a robot?” you asked Sprite as you leaned against the counter behind you.

“Well, kinda,” she said, trying to help you grasp the situation. “But that doesn’t matter. You need to come with us.” 

You glanced to Thena for her opinion. Her lips became a flat line as she nodded in agreement with Sprite.

The young eternal kept rambling, but you weren’t processing it. You couldn’t stop staring at Druig. He paced around the art studio, taking in all the large canvases that sat on easels and racks. 

“Could we have a minute?” you asked the two, still looking at Druig. He froze at your request, making it clear he was still listening despite how he tried to keep up his aloof demeanor.

Sprite scoffed as she made her way out of the room, pretending to gag as she glanced at Druig and you. Thena smiled to herself, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze as she followed Sprite out.

Druig stirred by the window, unable to face you yet.

“I missed you,” you said. Your head tilted as you continued to examine his movements. He was nervous, it was obvious ashe fidgeted and picked at his cuticles. 

“Did you get my letters?” You asked.

He paused. Of course, he got your letters. Every single one. They were bundled together with string and tucked under his pillow back at the village. 

You never went a month without sending one. Ever since he left that island that day. You’d told him of your travels, everywhere you ended up over the decades. He’d read them all by candlelight after the village had long turned in for the night. He ruminated over each word; all the smudges of ink by your shaky hands, all the chicken scratch handwriting as you always wrote too fast in an attempt to catch up with your thoughts. He got every single letter. And he could recite them all if you asked.

“I’m sorry,” he said, finally turning to face you. 

Your smile faltered as he began to unravel.

“Druig,” you said, trying to stop him.

“No, I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know how many times I can say it,” Druig took slow steps towards you as if preparing himself for you to stumble away from him again. But you didn’t

“I didn’t mean it, it just happened. I was overwhelmed and I couldn’t handle everything, but it’s no excuse. And I just-”

“Dru, it’s okay,” you were suddenly in front of him, your hands taking his. The tremors he could seem to control all those decades suddenly stopped.

“I’m not mad, it’s okay. I understand,” you said.

“I let them go. I’m done, Y/N,” he said, stepping closer to you. “I don’t wanna be a monster, dove.”

Your heart fluttered at that damn nickname. You fucking missed it.

“You were never a monster, Druig. What you can do, what you have to deal with. I’ll never understand it. But I just want what’s best for you,” you slipped a hand through his soft hair as it fell in front of his face. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I missed you, so fucking much,” he said, resting his forehead to yours. 

You chuckled to yourself, brushing your nose against his as you smiled. Your lips slowly slipped across his, as if asking for permission. As if he’d been waiting for the moment, Druig pulled you close, his lips hungry for you. 7000 years of hunger.

When you finally pulled back, he was smirking like an idiot. You took your hand and ran your thumb across his red lips. He chuckled to himself.

“My beautiful, beautiful Y/N,” he said, his grip on your waist tightening. His accent slurred as he smiled against your cheek.

“What?” you asked, a soft laugh slipping from your lips.

“You’re gonna get killed with me trying to stop this emergence?” he said, jokingly.

“Oh absolutely.”

“I’d kill any celestial if it meant not forgetting you.”

---

hope you liked it heheh its not the best but hey, a new character :)

[bambiihee]

Mommy Seonghwa and don't ask who and don't ask why.

MOMMY, DEAREST. 박성화

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ NSFW + MDNI! park seonghwa x fem!reader • mommy kink (m. rec), soft dom!hwa, sub!reader, teasing, brat tamer!hwa, oral (f. rec), pussy slapping, dirty talk, vaginal fingering

[notes.] this honestly made me giggle so hard when i first got it?? okay baby i wont ask questions <3 usually mommy hwa isn’t my favorite thing ever? but seeing him in heels recently has been Doing Things to me… model!hwa when i catch you… (this is a crazy thing to make as my first ateez post. wow.)

to celebrate 400 followers, i'm opening my inbox for drabble requests!! please send your thoughts here!

it was funny, at first.

well, it actually wasn’t ever funny to seonghwa, but he didn’t have the guts to tell you that.

you were just copying his members, repeating a silly nickname that they threw at him every once in a while. when they did it, it never bothered him in the slightest, and he would just laugh along with the rest of them. it was just a little joke.

but his members had only ever called him mom or mother. They had never called him mommy.

the first time you said it, seonghwa had been sure he had misheard you. but no, when he asked you to repeat yourself you did loudly and clearly; “could you grab that for me please, mommy?”

seonghwa's brain short circuted.

you and the other boys howled with laughter at his shocked expression, wide-eyed and stuttering out a near-illegible “y-yeah, sure—“, just barely able to pull himself together to save face in front of everyone. he gives a halfhearted chuckle, but inside his mind was reeling.

it wasn’t that he hated it, it was that he liked it a little too much.

every time he hears it his stomach flips and his ears turn red, something about the way the world flows from your mouth so sweetly and naturally that made his thoughts go crazy. his sweet little doll, pretty face so innocent when you're calling him something like... that.

something so dominant.

Maybe that makes him weird, the nickname "mommy" making him feel powerful instead of emasculated. How it makes him feel so dominant over you, fills him with the desire to take care of you. he finds it embarrassing, to a degree, but he can't deny how the word and the thoughts that come with it makes his cock twitch in his pants.

for the first time, seonghwa wishes that he was better at hiding things from you, because he's certain you've started to catch on.

again, and again, and again, seonghwa hears the nickname fall from your mouth.

mommy. mommy. mommy.

"mommy, please?" you beg him one time, looking up at him with big wet eyes, asking for him to buy you boba of all things, and it takes everything he had not to cum in his pants.

and when he folds and hands you his card, because he's utterly powerless when it comes to spoiling you, you shoot him the prettiest smile and say; "thank you, mommy."

he was at his limit, and that was before you took it into the bedroom.

because with you laid out underneath him, late one night with his head buried between your plush thighs, you cry out to him, "fuck, mommy, more!"

seonghwa groans into your pussy, unable to hold back just how much he enjoys the nickname when he's been blessed with what it sounds like when you moan. "more?" he chuckles, gently biting down on your clit, "my, you're greedy tonight."

he dives in anyways, just like you knew he would, always eager to please even when he's teasing you for being bratty. "i knew you liked it when i called you that." you giggle breathlessly, but your laughter cuts into a choked moan, seonghwa's long fingers wrapping tight around your throat as he spreads your pussy lips wide with his other hand.

"and still you said it every damn second." he tsks, dark hooded eyes looking up at you from between your legs. "been a bad girl, haven't you, my love? trying to get mommy to snap and punish you?"

you swallow hard, and seonghwa can feel your throat bobbing beneath his fingers. "hwa--"

"that's not my name, is it?" he pulls away from you just enough to land a wet slap to your cunt, hard enough to make your thighs tremble and your lips fall open in a broken squeal. he soothes the sting with his tongue sliding wetly up between your folds, stopping to rub tight circles against your oversensitive clit. his hot breaths fan your leaking entrance, painfully empty, twitching needily around nothing but air. "there's something else i'd like you to scream tonight."

his lips suction around your clit, and two long fingers slide deep into your hole, curling deliciously against your sweet spot with a practiced ease. you throw your head back against the pillows, your eyes blown wide and your mouth hung open;

"o-oh my god-- mommy!"

[endless-ineffabilities]

the only intermission (Ewan Mitchell x f!reader)

a/n: this is a direct result of my wishing that Ewan would do a play here in London so I can watch him. So, here you go <3

main masterlist ▪︎ previous part

You and Ewan share a moment during intermission.

The play's intermission is under way, with twenty minutes of reprieve for the actors and the audience. Bethany had gone to the bar to grab a drink with Harry, and somehow, to Ewan's obvious delight, he was able to corner you out in the foyer.

The two of you stand at a semi-secluded spot away from the main doors, clear of the passage into the theatre.

"So, what do you think of it so far?" Ewan leans against the wall, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, and hoping you didn't notice that he kept shuffling closer to you.

There had been a two-foot distance, which became one, after he said something along the lines of—Wait, I can't hear you, say that again?—even though you are well away from the bustle.

And now, his arm is close enough to brush against yours as you respond, "I really enjoyed it. Emma's absolutely brilliant! I mean, the whole cast is amazing, but Emma's a standout for me."

"For me as well," Ewan agrees. He's mesmerized by the way you beam in enthusiasm.

"I wanted to ask you if you've ever done a play? I think you would be really good at it!"

Ewan feels the heat rush to his cheeks. "Really? No, I haven't been in a play yet—"

"Well you should!" You touch his forearm lightly. For but a second. He wishes you hadn't let go.

"Should I?"

"I wouldn't lie to you, Ewan," you say, smiling and tilting your head. Is this flirting?

Can you do it some more?

"If you say so." He tries to match your tone. "Will you be there to watch me when I do?"

"Am I invited to press night?"

Either his own desires are fooling him, or you shuffle closer to him this time.

"You'll be front and centre, darling."

You nod in appreciation. "Well, I would be honoured. You know, if they do another rendition of Romeo and Juliet, you should go for the part of Romeo."

He laughs lightly, and before he can stop himself, he blurts out, "Only if you would be Juliet."

Your face contorts in apparent confusion. "But... I'm not an actress."

His smile drops, thinking that his attempt at flirtation flew right over your head.

"No, darling—" he stammers. "I, I just meant—"

You throw your head back, giggling to yourself. "Ohhh, you make it too easy!"

He can't help but join you, the trill of your shared laughter echoing in your little corner of the room.

"You're mean," he clicks his tongue, his voice lowering.

"Hmm. So do you still want to take me out?"

You most definitely move closer to him. He sees it clearly, and he mirrors your motion, gently brushing his fingers along the side of your face.

There is a moment of static, electrifying tension. His eyes are drawn down to your lips, which part slightly.

But it all dissipates when the usher's booming voice cuts through, announcing that the play is to resume in five minutes.

You sigh. "We should head back inside."

No. Not yet. Would Bethany be cross with him if he asks to switch seats so he can be close to you for the next hour?

He feels silly—he can't even wait until after the play.

"Hold on," he says, grabbing your hand when you start to turn away. "I do still want to take you out."

"Oh," you smile sweetly. "Great." You glance around quickly, likely checking if Bethany already went back inside. "We'll talk after the play?"

"Yes, please, darling," he exhales, giving your hand a squeeze. Why can't plays have hour-long intermissions? Maybe you wouldn't be averse to just walking out of there and having that date way sooner than expected.

There will be plenty of other nights to watch the play anyway.

"Come on," you tug at his hand, tilting your head toward the entrance. "Time to go, handsome."

You hold on to his hand, and a shiver runs down his spine, your touch sending a surge of warmth through him.

Your skin feels so soft. And you called him handsome.

As you merge back into the crowd, shuffling toward the doors, he leans in close. "You know," he whispers, "when we go on our date, there won't be any intermissions like this."

"You won't need a break from me? I can be annoying, you know," you tease, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckles softly, his gaze holding yours. "I think I can handle it, beautiful."

You blush, lowering your head. He feels pleased with himself.

He continues, "Besides, I have a feeling you'll keep me on my toes."

On his toes, on his knees, on his back—whatever position you want him in.

Oh, he's going to hell.

[todoscript]

making out until your phone interrupts you two

characters: bakugou katsuki, midoriya izuku, todoroki shouto

genre: fluff, suggestive

word count: 2.8k+, 850-1000 words per character

warnings: characters are aged up, suggestive and mature content, implied sexual content, minors please beware

author’s note: how did these get as long as they did 

copyright 2021 todoscript, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated anywhere else.

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

As your soft hands brush along the nape of his neck and pinch at strands of ash blond hair, you feel his larger, calloused hands run along your thighs. Your lips come back for each other, hot and needy. Bakugou bites down harshly on your bottom lip, eliciting a squeal that grants him an opening to pry his tongue into your mouth to melt with yours. You follow in the frantic rhythm he sets, barely keeping pace as your grip on the slim fabric of his black tank top wrinkles in your curled fingers. Smirking, his hand runs up the skin beneath your shirt. He finds your squirming all the more amusing the more he rubs and gropes.

“Aw c’mon, babe. No fun if you’re already turning into pudding this fuckin’ early. Show some resistance, why don’t ya?” He eggs you on, but doesn’t cease in his ministrations, and in fact, only makes it harder for you to show any kind of fight. You detach your lips from his, pouting profusely with a scrunched nose. He looks back at you, expression sly and slick, well aware of what he’s doing. Well, you’re going to be sure he doesn’t get the last laugh.

Shifting all your weight onto his upper body, you move him over to lay down on the couch. He peers at your form towering above him, curious as to how you go about turning the tables against him tonight. His palms are flat on your thighs, remaining there as you settle your hands on his shoulders to balance yourself. You move your head down so your lips can touch and Bakugou cranes his neck slightly to meet you in the middle. However, a clamor sounding from a phone on the coffee table sends a rift in the atmosphere you’ve established and the incessant chime captures both of your attention. Your eyes go wide before blinking in realization that it’s your phone that’s going off right now.

Much to Bakugou’s dismay, you begin moving off of him. You get up to reach for your ringing phone, but his hand grabbing your wrist is faster.

“Don’t you dare answer it,” Bakugou orders, failing to suppress the blunt annoyance in his tone.

“What if it’s an important call from work?”

Hearing your response, he begrudgingly lets go of your wrist, sitting back on the couch, and grumbling beneath his breath.

“Fuck, it better not take long then.”

You playfully roll your eyes at him. You take a glance at the screen before pressing the green icon and nestle your phone next to your ear.

As you converse with the person on the other line, the blond is glaring knives at the device, no doubt mentally sending curses to whichever asshole decided to interrupt the mood just when things were starting to get good. Now he’s contemplating as to why he was generous enough to let you answer the damn phone in the first place. Shoulda just chucked that thing into the next room, left to be forgotten as the two of you would’ve been occupied with much more important matters.

In retaliation with his thoughts, he abruptly pulls your body into his lap, legs on either side of his thighs, straddling him. Being so occupied with your phone call, you don’t have much opportunity to comment on his behavior. In fact, Bakugou actually doesn’t allow you any opportunity.

Without warning, he plants his mouth on your neck, proceeding to nibble and suckle with just the right amount of pressure that makes you jolt in his lap. A small squeak leaves you, the noise eluded by the other person on the line thanks to you shifting your phone away from your mouth in time. You glare at the blond, silently asking with pointed brows what the hell he thought he was doing. But Bakugou only finds amusement in your struggles.

“Go on, keep talking, princess,” he mumbles loud enough for only you to hear and you feel his lips curl against your skin. You notice his hands busying themselves, tugging at the hem of your shirt, but despite that, you can’t do anything but continue with your conversation, unless you want your caller to start suspecting you’re undergoing other… activities as you were speaking to them.

You are so gonna get it later, mister. You mentally note your promises of retribution before returning to the chat while trying to ignore Bakugou’s mischief to the best of your ability.

After powering through the next couple of minutes of exchanges—your replies hastening and voice hitching whenever Bakugou’s ministrations became impatiently persistent—you finally say your hurried goodbyes, hitting the end call button.

That acts as Bakugou’s cue to pounce on you. He swipes your phone right from your fingertips and tosses it half-hazardously on the couch, out of your reach.

“Katsuki, you—!”

The moment you open your mouth to say something in retort, your words are cut off. Bakugou’s lips slot with yours to resume your intimate lip-lock, even more intense than earlier by how he barely allows you to draw a single breath.

“Oh no you don’t. No fucker is going to interrupt us this time, I’m going to make sure of that,” is the last he says before hoisting you up from your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist, and leading you both to your bedroom.

MIDORIYA IZUKU

Entering your living room, Midoriya finds you lounging on the couch with the TV on, curled up with a blanket and watching the latest episode of a show you’ve been following. He stretches out his muscles as he approaches you, body aching at every extension of his limbs. With his groans sounding rather exasperated, you face in his direction.

“Tired?” you question as Midoriya takes a seat beside you.

“Yeah, just a bit. The villains keep getting tougher these days,” he answers, cracking his knuckles, craning his neck to relieve a particular spot that’s been bothering him. You open up the blanket to let him take refuge in your warm haven and he scoots closer to you.

As expected of being the Number One Hero, his duties to the populace only grow more challenging with each passing moment. But he knows better than to complain about the job he was so heavily entrusted to by All Might. Besides, nothing beats saving the day and putting a smile on every citizen’s face. Well, nothing… except maybe spending time with you at the end of the day.

“I’m proud of you though, Izuku. You’ve been working so hard lately,” you say sweetly as your hand goes to massage Midoriya’s neck, rubbing at just the right areas that make him relax beneath your touch. “So proud of you.”

“Y-Yeah?” Midoriya doesn’t mean to stutter, but he fights back a groan when your fingers slowly travel up to his scalp.

“Yeah…” Your voice is tenderly hushed between you two, leaning in closer, to the point where your faces are seconds from touching. With your fingers still twined in his curly green hair, you angle him ever so slightly to meet the smoldering look in your eyes. It doesn’t take much for him to mirror the expression, eyes growing equally lidded and just as desirable. Then, before you had even realized it, you both closed the distance.

Tongue and teeth immediately clash. Midoriya is quick to overpower you as you let out a giggle, being forced to lay back on the couch. With your show inevitably about to be forgotten, the green-haired male smoothly reaches for the remote on your side before pointing the off button at the TV and tossing it to the ground.

He cradles your head from behind to bring your lips impossibly closer. Your hands remain laced through unruly emerald strands, occasionally tugging at his scalp, evoking a hum that vibrates between your lips coming together again and again.

When you finally separate after a rather lengthy session of lip-locking, your breaths are ragged—faces hot. He stares down at you, transfixed by your swollen, plush lips that he wishes to dive down again for more kisses.

“God, what did I ever do to deserve you?” he asks—a rhetorical question, but you smile at it nonetheless.

“I should be asking you that, Number One Hero.” You cup his face in your hands, thumb delicately brushing against those endearing freckles of his as you’re about to pull him down again.

But, just as your eyes close, waiting for your mouths to meet, the world splits open at a blaring echo crashing upon you. You abruptly halt your movements, watching as Midoriya does the same, eyes blown wide. You both turn your heads in the direction of the sound coming from the phone next to the kitchen.

“The phone…” Midoriya murmurs, wondering who would be calling at this hour. But upon glancing over at the wall clock, you remember something. It was actually around that time you were expecting a phone call from a friend of yours anyway. It had entirely slipped your mind after being so caught up in your make-out session with him.

“Sorry, Izuku. It’s probably for me,” you inform, an apologetic smile on your face as he slowly gets off you, allowing you to cease the ringing in the distance.

Sitting up on the couch, he watches you traverse to the kitchen, his elbows resting on his thighs. He drops his head into his hands, noticing his leg hopping up and down restlessly. It’s hard to come down from his high after getting worked up like that, and with that phone call appearing out of nowhere, he’s not sure what to do with himself other than not to get too excited.

Despite that, Midoriya musters the most patience as he possibly can. I mean, the amount of times you’ve been interrupted by Midoriya’s own urgent calls coming from his agency warrants him to exercise some self-restraint, knowing how riled up you could get at times, yet still kindly letting him go about his work like the saint you are.

But after a long day of patrolling the city and defeating foes, all Midoriya desires at the moment is to drown in all the love you have to offer him and leave everything behind to think of only you and him together. He overhears your conversation due to the silence spread across your living space, making out bits and pieces but never taking the time to distinguish the topic of your discussion.

No good, he thinks. Midoriya resigns to the fact he simply can’t keep as still as he would like, already getting up from the couch to seek you out. When he finds you, you’re laughing into the phone, likely finding whatever your friend said humorous, but when he wraps his arms around you, you jerk in surprise, that same laughter replaced by a quiet squeal. You feel Midoriya’s head tuck itself in the space linking your neck and shoulder, planting a single delicate kiss on the exposed skin. He glances at you, emerald eyes gleaming in a silent plea.

You smile in reply, understanding what he wants as you hold up a finger to tell him to give you a moment. “Um, sorry, I’ll have to call you back later. There’s something I have to do right now,” you say into the phone and after exchanging farewells, dismiss the call.

Turning in his arms, you come face-to-face with the relieved look in his eye. “Baby couldn’t wait?”

He releases a sigh, smiling warily. “You know I can never wait when it comes to you.”

TODOROKI SHOUTO

Fresh and clean out of the shower, you toss your towel around your slightly damp hair as you walk into the bedroom. Todoroki is already there waiting for you, sitting on the edge of your shared futon while checking something on his phone. Upon hearing your footsteps, he glances up, and smiles as soon as your eyes find each other. He clicks his phone off and sets it to the side before beckoning you over with spread arms.

You kneel in front of him and lean into his comforting embrace. His body is just the right temperature against you that soothes the heat abiding your skin from your steamy shower. Feeling you melt into his chest, he tilts his head, pressing his nose into your hair, and notes the fragrant scent of your shampoo that harmoniously washes over his senses.

“You smell… nice,” he comments, nuzzling his nose to your neck.

Honey… and vanilla…

You giggle at the tickling sensation. “I would hope so, considering I just took a shower.” Todoroki hums at your humor, lifting his head to find your eyes. He takes a moment to pay every detail its utmost attention, from your misty hair to the warmth flushed on your cheeks as his knuckles graze over your skin. You look away from his punctilious gaze, his gray and turquoise eyes making you feel small.

That won’t do, he thinks.

Before you can even process his actions, he leans forward to capture your lips. Taken by surprise, a faint sound floats above your mouth that is quickly swallowed by him.

Again… and again… and again.

As you let yourself surrender to the fervent kisses, Todoroki maneuvers you two onto your futon, where he hovers over you, lips never once parting throughout your movements. You hum in delight when his tongue immerses itself in your mouth. The gratuitous feeling doesn’t stick for long though.

A ringing sound resonates above the futon, and your attention is immediately diverted. Your motions falter beneath him, causing you to fall off beat now that your mind has one more thing to worry about. On the other hand, Todoroki is least bit concerned over the noise, unrelentingly nibbling at your lips to try and elicit more sweetness from them. Unfortunately, his fun is cut short as you lay your hand on his chest, lightly pushing him away so he removes his mouth from you.

“Shouto... My phone.”

Todoroki glances at the phone in question before returning to your form, disheveled under him. He gives you a look of indifference. “It can wait,” he states simply, about to dive down to resume what he started, but you don’t concede so easily.

“It could be important,” you reason.

Releasing a sigh, Todoroki allows you some space to turn over on your stomach and reach out for your phone, the chiming desisting as you answer it and greet whoever decided to call you at this time of night.

The conversation you’re having flies over Todoroki’s head. The only thing on his mind right now is you finishing the call and continuing where you two left off, praying it won’t take long.

However, eventually his impatience gets the best of him. His eyes wander the room simply to return to you—laying with your upper body propped on your pillow as you hover the phone next to your ear. He peeks at the small droplet of water trailing your hair just before it falls atop the skin of your neck. He seems almost mesmerized by it as it begins its trek down your collarbones, reveling in the enticing sight despite how ordinary it must be to the common eyes. For him, it just makes things all the more difficult to sit still.

Needy and with little to do, he shifts toward you.

“Right, and I– Ah!” your sentence slips on you mid-speech as you feel something cold touch the nape of your neck.

“Y/n? Everything alright?” your caller asks, static voice laced with concern that you almost overlook when the chilling sensation on your neck returns. You turn your head and discover Todoroki bending forward to place his lips repeatedly on your neck. You can’t tell if his lips are particularly colder than usual or if you’re still a little heated from your shower. Either way, the heightened sensitivity raises goosebumps on your skin.

“I-I’m fine! I just bumped into something, is all!” you reply, though your voice pitches, feeling Todoroki’s equally cool hands graze your back under your shirt.

“Oh, please be careful! The fatigue must be catching up with you after such a long day, and I did call you at a pretty late time, huh? Tell you what, we can talk about this again tomorrow morning so you can get your rest for the night, okay?”

You are beyond grateful for the convenience bestowed to you. Though, you honestly think resting is surely the last thing on a certain someone’s mind right now.

“Right! Thank you..! Have a good night!” With that, you promptly end the call. Repositioning onto your back, you cross eyes with Todoroki, making a point at hardening your expression and seeming offended. Though the man knows it’s more so a facade than anything and that you’re not actually angry at him.

“Oh, you..!” You emphasize your words with a bump of your fist against his shoulder, albeit with minimal strength.

He chuckles at your pouty lips, leaning down for a peck before moving some hair out of your face. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” he admits, the curve of his lips bordering on a smirk and a genuine smile that you find hard to be mad at.

“Shall we resume where we left off then?”

[desireness]

Wants & Needs [Sasha x f!reader] 16+

-cw: au, praising, oral sex, thigh riding, fingering, wlw, slight choking, dom! reader, sub! sasha

sneak peak: You’ve had attraction for your friend Sasha for a very long time. What will happen when she calls, begging you to hangout? Especially when she confesses that she’s been so horny lately..

notes: Been having sasha brain rot recently so here’s this. Sasha is just *chefs kiss*. Enjoy.

You open your eyes to the sound of your ringtone going off on your phone. You search around for your phone on your bedside table without even looking, too tired to bother. You briefly look at your phone’s screen to check who’s calling you.

“Sasha, what the fuck do you want?” you ask annoyed.

“Were you already sleeping? what are you? a fucking grandma?” she snorts.

“yea, i’m hanging up”

“NO WAIT”

Sasha goes on to talk about how she’s sorry for waking you up and babbles about other irrelevant things. She could be so annoying sometimes but you love that about her.

“Okay, why did you actually call?” you ask rubbing the tiredness away from your eyes.

“i’m bored... and hungry. Please bring food and come hangout with me” she whines over the phone.

You hesitate at first, wanting to sleep more but also not wanting to let her down. Plus, you forgot to eat dinner before bed anyways so why not?

“Fuck it, fine. You owe me though.” You say before hanging up.

You sigh, throwing your phone on the bed. You get out of your bed, quickly missing the warmth and comfort it provided. A chill washes over your skin as you’re exposed to the cold air of your room. You go to put on a warm hoodie and decide to keep your comfy sweatpants on. You quickly grab your car keys and your phone, taking one last glance in the mirror before heading towards the parking lot of your apartment complex. Your hair was messy and disheveled, but you could care less. You were just going to see Sasha anyways.

On your way to her apartment, you stop at Sasha’s favorite fast food restaurant to get dinner for you both. The drive there was short, only about ten minutes. As you arrived you texted her, “here.”

She didn’t reply, which was quite strange. She’s usually fast at replying, especially when there is food involved. As you reach her apartment door, you type in the passcode and walk right in like you normally do. You walked into the kitchen and set the bag of food on the counter.

“Sasha?” you called out. No answer.

You walk towards her bedroom, opening the door that was already cracked open. There she was, cuddled up in her blankets, sleeping. “For fuck’s sake.” You said under your breath.

Sasha looks so pretty with her hair down and sprawled out on her pillow. You had always noticed how attractive she was. Sometimes staring a little too long at her face or especially, her lips. Her skin is so gorgeous and bright. You often find your touches on her skin lingering too long or your eyes wandering over her body whenever she changed in front of you. She was perfect and it often made your head so full of her. Wondering was it was like to touch her, kiss her, taste her, pleasure her.

You realized these actions weren’t normal for regular friends, you’ve known that for awhile so you never acted on them in fear that she might push you away. Plus, it’s not like you’ve ever really had the chance, she’s always been with some guy. They were all trash and the relationship often didn’t last long but still, it frustrated you. She deserves better, no, the best. You’ve heard all of her sex stories and how they never seem to truly satisfy her. You knew you could be the one to do that for her, make her feel so good. Sometimes you day dream about filling her up with your fingers and having her scream your name. You get wet just thinking about it. If only you had the chance.

You move some hair out of her sleepy face, admiring her for a few more seconds before softly shaking her awake. “Sash, wake up I brought food.” You say sweetly.

Sasha’s eyes flutter open and she sits up, yawning and stretching.

“Ahh shit, sorry for falling asleep. Thanks for coming.” She softly smiles at you making you flash a smile back. " ‘s ok”

You’re sitting in front of her, watching her grab her phone and look at the time. 12:23 A.M. She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt, exposing her plush thighs to you. You rub your thighs together to help ease the tension. You could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra and probably wearing some cute lace panties as well. It’s driving you crazy, you want to feel her so badly.

Sasha lays back on her bed with a groan. You ask her what’s wrong and she replies “i’ve been so fucking horny lately and nico’s been busy so I can’t even call him up. It’s so annoying.” She sighs. This only made you crave her more, trying so hard to push your desires away. “Maybe I should buy a new vibrator or something to keep me company.” She laughs. You smiled but didn’t think it was funny. She didn’t need a vibrator or anything else. What she needed was you.

“Anyways, where’s the food?” She asks eagerly.

“In the kitchen...” You trail off looking at the small bit of drool placed on the corner of her mouth. You take your thumb and wipe it away, your touch lingering a little too long on her lips. All Sasha did was giggle.

Before Sasha could say anything, you place your lips on hers, holding her chin between your thumb and your pointer. You kiss her softly, afraid to scare her off by being too aggressive at first. Sasha’s eyes are wide open, slowly processing the scene before her. You continue to move your lips against hers but you quickly realize she isn’t doing the same. You take this as a hint that she is uncomfortable, parting away from her lips. Not even a second after you broke the kiss, Sasha leaned back in to put her lips on yours. Her hands are on both sides of your cheeks, cupping your face.

Your lips move in synch with hers, relishing in each other’s taste. You want to memorize what she tastes like, you aren’t in any hurry. Your mind is fuzzy as you run your tongue against her bottom lip, asking for entrance. She quickly abides slightly opening up her mouth so your tongue could slide in. Your tongues intertwine, pulling a sweet moan from her mouth into yours. Your cunt clenches in response. It’s your first time hearing her pretty voice like that, all whiny and submissive. It was all because of you. You briefly came back to your senses, pulling away from her lips.

She is slightly panting, lips glossy from the kiss. She looks so sensual right now. “What about niccolo?” you say, slightly averting your eyes so your not tempted to throw her on the bed and fuck her right there, not caring about her feelings. “We’re not exclusive or anything.” She grabs the hem of your shirt, nervously playing with it between her fingers. “So don’t stop, please.” She’s blushing, eyes meeting yours. That’s all you needed to hear from her, a sign that she wants you to keep making her feel good.

You take no time reattaching your lips with hers, placing your hands on her waist to pull her onto your lap. You take your time to pepper sweet kisses from her lips to her jaw then to her neck. Taking the skin of her neck between your teeth while she hisses at the sting, gripping your shoulders roughly. You use the pad of your tongue to ease the sting, tasting her skin. It wasn’t hard for you to find her sweet spot. You suck and kiss her skin, making her an aroused mess on top of your lap. You creep your hands underneath her shirt, feeling the sides of her waist and ribs, while just brushing against the underside of her breasts. You can tell she’s getting impatient from the way she’s letting out small desperate gasps at your touches. You like seeing what a mess she is for you. You can feel the goosebumps on her skin as you feel around underneath her shirt. You give her jaw one last kiss before you pull away to grab ahold of the hem of her shirt. You shoot her a glance of permission and she quickly nods.

One you slide the shirt up and over, her breasts bounce down on full display for you to see. You can only mutter “fuck” at the sight before you. You had seen Sasha barely clothed before but never like this. You’ve never seen this sight knowing you had full control over it. Your eyes wander over her body being completely topless, only some cute lace underwear covering her cunt. “You’re so gorgeous, baby.” you say grasping her breasts in your hands. Sasha moans in response, loving the way you praise her.

You eagerly attach your mouth to her breast, finding the nipple with ease. She immediately whines at the contact. You suck on one breast and palm at the other, making her fingers intertwine with your hair and slightly tug on it when you nip and roll at her nipples. Her breasts are the prettiest you’ve ever seen. Perfectly round and perky, god she’s amazing. You feel her start to grind on top of you, trying to relieve the growing ache between her legs. That only makes you want her more.

“Ride my thigh, baby.” You whisper in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. You grasp her ass and her hips with your hands and guide her body over yours. Helping her ride you while your face is buried in her tits. She gasps at the sudden contact, burying her face into your neck. Her breasts practically bounce in your mouth as she moves back and forth. She nibbles and bites on your neck, trying to handle the overall pleasure of it all. You can tell she’s getting close by the way she’s whining in your ear, hands grasping your shoulders tightly.

All of a sudden you grab her hips harshly, stopping her from making anymore movement. She whimpers at the loss of contact, making you smile as you leave a sweet kiss on her shoulder. You look up at her, grasping her jaw and giving her a light kiss. Your fingers find her wet clothed cunt, making her gasp into your mouth. She whines loudly as soon as your fingers start to circle her clit. You moan in response into her mouth, lapping your tongues sloppily.

She lets out a desperate muffled, “please” into your neck. “Please what? hmm?” you purr bringing her face to look at yours. Her face is a flushed mess and her lips are slightly swollen, making you feel proud of yourself knowing you caused it. Sasha grabs your your other hand that is on her ass and places it near her cunt. “Your fingers, need them so bad.” She pleas. You hum in response, bringing your fingers up to your lips, not hers. You want her to watch you make them wet, so that it’s engraved her mind. You swirl your tongue around your fingers, making wet and sloppy sounds. Sasha watches eagerly, letting out a needy moan. You remove your fingers, leaving a string of saliva connecting from your mouth to your fingers.

Sasha stands up, removes her panties, and sits her pretty ass right back on your lap. You move your fingers down to her folds and softly run through them. Sasha let’s out a small gasp as your fingers reach down to find her slit, teasing the entrance. “Shit, you’re so wet. All this for me?” She nods in agreement with a breathy moan.

You insert your two fingers inside her, painfully slow. She clenches down hard and squeezes her eyes shut. You want her to feel every part of your fingers, want her to remember this feeling. “Feels so good inside me.” She says sweetly, making you pump your fingers inside her just to hear more of her sweet voice. She rides your fingers as you pump them into her at the same time. She throws her head back in pleasure, giving you perfect access to her neck. She cries out your name as you kiss and suck on her sweet spot while filling her up. You grip her ass hard, helping her move up and down on your now soaked fingers. Her walls are so squishy and wet, making you fuck her with your fingers ruthlessly. She repeatedly lets out loud high pitched moans. You’re soaked at this point, all aroused because of her pleasure.

“Am close, you’re filling me up so good!” She cries out. Her words go straight to your cunt and you increase the speed of your fingers, using your thumb to circle her clit at the same time. The erotic sounds of her wetness and her moans fill the room, leaving you so satisfied. Her tits are flying up and down as she rides you faster and you take a mental screenshot to remember this sight forever. “Who’s making you feel good hm? Who’s the one that’s pleasuring you the way no one ever has?” You groan. Your free hand finds it’s place around her neck, squeezing ever so slightly. “You are! It’s all you!” She sobs. The coil in her stomach has reached it’s max and is ready to snap. “Fuck, good girl.” You grunt grabbing her jaw and pulling it forward so your faces are inches away. “Now come for me, pretty.” And she does, practically screaming your name as she cums around your fingers.

She collapses onto your shoulder, panting into your neck. You rub soft circles on her clit to help her come down from her high. You pull your fingers out gently and place them in your mouth to clean them off. She tastes so sweet and saccharine, you can’t help but want to clean her off with your tongue. You whisper sweet praises to her, telling her how amazing she did. She nuzzles into your neck, leaving soft kisses as a thank you.

She hops off of your lap, laying down on the bed. You take no time to pull your sweatpants and panties down. You are so wet, you couldn’t just leave yourself like this. Sasha stares at the ceiling, unaware of your actions until you climb on top of her, cunt hovering over her breasts. She lifts her head up slightly with a confused expression on her face but blushes at the sight of your bare and soaked count. You slightly drag you cunt over her breasts as you grab the back of her head and say “Remember how you said you were hungry? Now eat.”

You practically shove her face into your pussy and she complies. Kissing and kitten-licking your folds at first, making you satisfyingly sigh. She grabs onto the back of your thighs, pushing you closer. You’re basically sitting on her face now. She finally starts to lap her tongue on your clit, making you grip her hair hard. You let out a series of satisfied, loud moans making Sasha whine into your cunt. You praise her for her good work. “such a good girl for me, gonna make me cum, baby?” She pulls away to nod at you before placing her tongue on your pussy again.

She sucks on your clit repeatedly, making your hips slowly ride her face. You do your best not to crush her face in the process. Her tongue feels so good and you love having this power of her. You love quite literally sitting on her face while she submits to all of your requests. She slips her tongue into your dripping hole, making you groan as your throw your head back. You continue riding her face as the room fills with wet sounds from her tongue slipping in and out of you.

It all starts to become too much for you, making your legs twitch and shake. Sasha pulls away for a second. “Want you to cum” She pleas looking up at you, teasing your clit with her tongue. She looks so cute with her begging eyes. You hum in response, grabbing the back of her head. “Since you’ve been very compliant, i’ll allow it.” You stroke the side of her mouth before entering two of your fingers inside. You collect her saliva and your own juices with your fingers, making her pleasantly sigh in response. You bring your fingers out of her mouth and place them on your tongue. “Make mommy cum.”

You shove her face right back where it belongs, earning a gasp from her. She flicks her tongue on your clit at a rapid speed which makes you a moaning mess. You moan over and over again as her tongue reaches all the right places. Her tongue switches between your hole and clit, making you see stars. Your legs start to shake and your breathe picks up. You can feel yourself about to cum by the way your stomach and pussy tingles, sending you into pure euphoria. Sasha focuses on your clit, flicking her tongue ruthlessly to help your reach your high. Your orgasm washed over you with a loud high pitched moan, making your mouth into a perfect O shape. You cum all over Sasha’s face.

She circles your clit with her tongue to help you come down from your high, cleaning all of your release off your pussy and thighs with her tongue. You come back to your senses and remove yourself from her grasp. You both lay there for a couple of minutes, processing everything that just occurred. You couldn’t help but smile, knowing that you just fucked Sasha better than anyone else ever has. All Sasha could say was “wow” and giggle. You laughed along with her, pushing her hair out of her face.

All of a sudden, Sasha’s phone rings. You grab it, seeing Niccolo’s name on the screen and hand it to her. You can slightly hear Niccolo tell her he’s free tonight if she wants. You kiss her shoulder sweetly, waiting for her response. “I’ll pass, i’m pretty content at the moment.” She smiles at you and hangs up on him.

She gives you a quick peck before heading off towards the kitchen. She looks back at you with a cute smile before leaving the room. “Thanks for two meals tonight, by the way.”

[goeatsomelife]

Christian Yu SFW & NSFW headcanons:

GUYS who wrote me your requests, I saw them and I’m already working on some of them! if you have any ideas or request, please, send me them, i’m excited to write new pieces, so don’t be shy

that’s probably not all of my ideas, so, maybe, part 2?

Dating Christian Yu would include:

SFW 

At first sight you thought he was a bad boy, riding his big and shiny bike, smoking cigarettes seductively. You just couldn't tear your eyes from him, enjoying the view behind the grey smoke coming out of his mouth 

He is hypnotizing, making your face blush every time he occasionally glances at you with a smirk 

He thinks you are such a cutie, shy and sweet. Absolute opposite of him 

So he just unexpectedly for you both asks you out, your reaction adores him 

With time he opened up for you showing his cute and dorky side, realizing, that you are the person he was looking for

Oh good His cute smile makes you melt. The way he tilts his head when he chuckles 

He loves to make you smile, either it with sweet jokes or cute surprises 

He loves cuddling, being a big spoon. His warm hands wrapping you securely on a soft bed, he is squeezing you making you squint in his embrace 

He loves to cuddle and don't waste any possibility to wrap his hands around you 

Waiting in line to get your MacDonalds order? He is hugging you from behind, sweetly leaning his head on your shoulder and lazily kissing the corner of your mouth 

Talking to a neighbor? His hand already hugging your shoulders and lightly caressing your hand 

Kisses passionate and sloppy, always eager to get more. Lazy kisses before bed and in the morning 

He always supporting you in whatever you want to do 

He always encourages you to try new thing together 

Traveling in a Van? Hell yeah. You're renting a cozy van to travel around the country

Don’t forget about his bike

He always insisting to drive you to work/college/university in the morning and takes you home

Cold air blowing through your hair, your lips dry and teardrops falling from your eyes, but it always worth it

You hold onto him tight, leaning your head on his back

You are always around when he is making music 

"You are my muse Y/N," he is saying one day making you blush and hide under the covers. He will get you out of it anyway and will shower you with sloppy kisses 

Spending the night at the studio cuddling to sleep 

At first, he protects you from the troubles of his life but in the end, he trusts you with all of his problems 

He founds in you a best friend he ever wanted who really cares about him 

NSFW 

Most of the times even laziest cuddles turning into a heated make-out session 

His hands roaming all over your body squeezing your skin whatever he can 

Always calls you "Baby girl" holding your face with his fingers to make you turn all of your attention to him 

He loves to fuck you fully closed in his studio before or after the session. He always cumm faster only with the thought that someone can walk in 

He loves when you're riding him but most of the times he takes control 

You're dripping wet when he is pushing his finger into your mouth to make you suck on it, his rings make it even more arousing 

Sitting on his lap while he is finger fucking you 

He's not afraid to stimulate you under your skirt in the studio when his mates are around 

You couldn't resist desire so you ending up in the bathroom, he is fucking you on the counter 

You love teasing him showing off some of the sexiest parts of your body, that makes him go crazy 

He loves holding your face in his palms making you look at him, your beautiful eyes always make him remember how happy he is having you

[whumperooni]

Mr.Natsuo being your teacher and you purposely flirt with other boys as wear really short skirts in his class to make him ✨jealous ✨and horny , he asks to see you after class and you get fucked on his table 🥺🥺 Sorry I’m on my period and I’m going feral 😃

No, no- never apologize for this! It makes me feral too ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡ Natsuo Sensei, please come get this pussy ♡

tags/warnings: teacher/student relationship, teacher kink, rough sex, unprotected sex, manipulation, improvised gags

A/N: I wrote Natsuo a bit more rough than I normally do, but I think it turned out okay;;; I also abused the words professor, doctor, sensei, and teacher;;;;

But. Ya know.

Enjoy! ♡

You were fucked the moment you walked into his classroom. Introduction to Human Anatomy and Physiology. 2:30 pm, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Led by Doctor Natsuo Todoroki. An insert into your schedule that seemed harmless enough. Interesting, surely. Something you were a little worried about- what if you turned out squeamish despite your love for all things horror and gore?- and something that would just fill your first semester of college. Harmless. Routine for your major. Nothing to give you any sort of fuss or throw you into a flustered little mess. Or, so you thought. Honestly, you hadn’t given much thought to what your professor might be like. You were more worried over having to share a dorm room with a stranger, if you could handle your class load, how hard it might be to adjust being away from home and all you’ve ever known. You suppose your mind’s eye might have conjured a vague image of a wrinkled and wizened old man with a stern gaze and whitened hair. You suppose you might have faintly imagined Doctor Todoroki to be a tired geezer in a lab coat and faded sweater vest. You suppose you might have had the predetermined, unconscious notion that your professor would be intelligent, elderly, stern and, well, someone who you would only think about in terms of being someone to give you tests and homework and lectures. You didn’t think that you would walk into the room to find a smiling, young man with a handsome face and thick thighs, big arms. You didn’t think that you would walk into the room to lock eyes with your professor and immediately go weak in the knees under a stormy gaze and a sunshine smile. You didn’t think that you would walk into the room to only have your breath snatched away, your cheeks flared with a flush, your heart forced into a thundering staccato.  You didn’t think that Doctor Todoroki would be hot. But, oh god- oh god- he’s gorgeous. Doctor Todoroki- well, Doctor Natsuo or even professor; he seems to prefer those much more than his family name- is, honestly, a living, breathing wet dream. He’s hot. He’s kind. He’s friendly. He’s funny. He’s perfect. The class that you thought would be only mildly interesting turns out to be your favorite. How could it not be when you’re blessed with a full hour of delicious eye candy, a teacher that’s so generous with his praise and has your spine tingling whenever he says your name? He’s so friendly and he’s so polite, too. The way he calls you Miss is a little old fashioned, sure, but it sends your mind reeling and your cheeks flushing- quick fantasies zipping through your thoughts as your thighs involuntarily push together. Your crush springs up from the moment you see him and it only gets stronger with each passing day. Little accidental brushes against you, the smiles he sends your way, the scent of his cologne whenever he leans over your table to correct an answer, the way his praise rings in your ears late at night- it all sends you spiraling. You’ve never had a crush quite like this before. Certainly not on a teacher. You want him, though. Oh, god, do you want him. Your roommate is the unfortunate one that has to hear you whine and moan over him- you’re much too embarrassed to admit your crush to your friends back home or any of your family; they’d be sure to scold you, to call you foolish and chide that you’re a silly little girl. She understands it, at least. That helps, keeps you from being too ashamed. “I mean, it’s no surprise you’ve got a thing for him,” she muses. “He’s young. He’s hot. Anyone would get a little crush.” You don’t like that thought, really. You don’t want to think about others lusting after your sensei. “Why not try shooting your shot?” At your scandalized look, she huffs and shrugs, rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on,” she scoffs. “No need to be such a good girl. Professors hook up with their students all the time. You just gotta be discreet.” “I can’t,” you protest- shaking your head and pulling your knees up to your chest. “And it’s not like he- he doesn’t see me in that kind of way.” “You don’t know that,” she counters with a click of her tongue. Another huff leaves her and it’s easy to see that her patience with the situation is waning. “Either feel it out or get over it or find someone else to moon over. There’s no point in moping and stewing.” You’re not moping. You’re just- you’re just- Okay, you’re mooning over him like she said. But you’re not moping. It’s just- it’s such a new situation for you. You’ve always had crushes on your peers- never anyone older than you by more than a year or two, never anyone in a position of authority over you. A taboo situation like this has never been your cup of tea- you’ve always been a good, sensible girl. Crushes on teachers have never been something you thought to entertain. But now? Well, now... You bite your lip and eye your reflection, nervously touch up your makeup in the bathroom mirror. It’s light and simple but pretty and sweet. Stalking Professor Natsuo’s social medias helped you gain the insight that he seems to prefer his women more natural and cute, innocent looking- all glossy lips and doe eyed, fluttering lashes with just the barest hint of mascara and blush. The false lashes might be a bit too much, but they make you look even more doll like and, that too, is something he seems to like. Pretty. Simple. Doll like. Sweet. Young. You think you’ve managed to put that look together rather nicely. The pleated skirt- just shy of rising above your knees- and the soft cardigan help, too, and, really, you don’t think you’ve ever looked quite so innocent before- even when you were a wide eyed, straight A, pure and untouched student back in high school. ...god, what are you doing? A groan leaves you and you nearly scrub the makeup from your face, nearly rip off the skirt and switch it out for the leggings you have stuffed inside your backpack. Nearly. You don’t think that this is really going to work. You don’t think that this is really going to draw any sort of reaction from him. And, well, maybe that’s what you need? Maybe you need to truly see that it’s a fruitless desire- maybe then it’ll shrivel up and away and you’ll be free from your sinful fantasies, free from the desire that has your head spinning. And, well, it’s been a while since you’ve dressed up a little, too- the rigors of college have had you leaning more toward comfort than style, have kept you too tired and busy to give time to makeup and skirts and a polished appearance. It feels kind of nice being all cute and attractive instead of frumpy and disheveled. ...you’re not going to change. You deserve to feel nice and you’re dying- desperate- to see how your professor will react to you looking nicer than the tired lump you usually display. Just act normal, you tell yourself as you head toward the class- clutching your textbooks tight to your chest. Don’t be too hopeful. Don’t be too excited. Don’t get disappointed. Just- just think of it as an experiment. That’s all it is, right? Just an experiment! You’re just putting a hypothesis to a test! (What a load of crap. It does help to calm your fluttering, nervous heart, though) You swallow as you approach the room and take a deep breath to steady yourself, bite your lip as you eye the open door. You can hear him rustling around and you know that the others will be around soon- you can’t just keep standing there like a dumbstruck, coltish fool. Another swallow, another deep breath. You walk into the room and fix a nervous smile on your face, chirp out a nearly stuttered “Good afternoon, Professor.” He’s faced away from you- broad back greeting your vision as he scrawls something across the blackboard. His head turns, though, and you get to hear an absent “good afternoon” replied back, you get to watch his gaze fall on you. His hand pauses. His snowy lashes blink once, twice, three times. Surprise flickers over his face- evident enough that you can catch it without doubt. His eyes flick down and back up so quickly that you almost miss it, dart away whenever your smile shrugs off its nervousness and grows ever so sweetly. You sit yourself down front and center- right in front of your sensei’s desk. He doesn’t look back at you as you organize your books and gear. He doesn’t look back at you as you primly cross your ankles and rest them to the side, drag a curious, studious gaze along his back. You had hoped for a response, but you hadn’t really expected it- Professor Natsuo has been kinder and more friendly and open than your other teachers, yes, but he’s still been professional. He’s never crossed any boundaries and you’ve never see him give another student the once over. This is...promising. Your cheeks stay flushed as the other students file in, but your anxiousness is gone away. Sure, that little look doesn’t really mean anything but now you’re...well. Now you’re curious. Desperate and needy for some validation of your silly little fantasies, but curious too. Could you...would he...? You wet your lips, unthinking, and keep your eyes on Doctor Natsuo throughout the class- analyzing his behavior, absorbing his words, taking in how his gaze finds you a bit more often than it usually does. Interesting. Encouraging. The next day you wear a skirt that’s a little bit shorter, don sweet mary janes and ankle socks decorated in lacy frills. Steel grey eyes dart to your legs more than once during the class and you even catch your professor tracing his eyes over your hips when he thinks you’re not looking- his reflection in the shining convex mirror hanging above your dissection table showing guilt, an almost nervous tilt to his lips. Oh, you’ve got him. But how do you proceed...? Your worries and frets and protests over taboo desires are long gone- they got dashed away with the first blink of his long lashes, with the first glance over he had given you. Really, you should feel ashamed over discarding your morals so easily, but it’s an exciting situation, isn’t it? It’s nothing you would ever think to find yourself in. But college is all about new, exciting situations, right? It’s about taking chances. God, you hope this is really a chance for you- you’ve never had the opportunity to play a coy game like this before. It’s...fun. High school would have been a lot more interesting if you had known this kind of thrill. You come home smiling ear to ear after a successful attempt at making Doctor Natsuo blush. (A sway of your hips, a flit of your slowly shortening skirts, a coo of his name as you thanked him for such an interesting lesson, a sweet smile and your fingers daring to skim ever so lightly and quickly over his wrist as you walked out of the classroom) The smile on your face has your roommate’s brow quirking, but one look at your outfit has her lips pulling into a smirk- something near gloating on her face. “You shooting your shot?” she asks, already knowing the answer. “Something like that.” You plop down on your bed, smile waning but still present- content as you let yourself get comfortable. She doesn’t offer any more conversation and you’re okay with that- mind fixating instead on how you could possibly further things with your sought after teacher. Things are good, for now- much better than you had ever thought they would be. The little forays into flirtation have been fun, exciting and they’ve even helped boost your confidence- something you hadn’t realized was sorely needed. It’s been fun. And it stays fun- the short skirts, the girly lilt you find yourself injecting into your voice, the soft makeup and sweet perfume, the way you always leave the class with wet panties and a vibrating exciting buzzing through you, the way your teacher’s eyes can’t help but dart over you, the way he breathes in just a bit deep when you get a little too close, the way he swallows whenever you so lightly purr his name- it all stays fun. Fun, but...frustrating. After a while it gets frustrating. Because he doesn’t do anything, not really. He stays a proper, good teacher- something you give props to him for- and he never returns your gentle flirtations, the subtle and silent invitations you push his way. He’s so...professional. It’s kind of a turn on- kind of. It’s mostly just...frustrating. You find your lips dipping into a pout more and more, find yourself sulky and downtrodden. Sure, this has been fun and interesting but you...you want more. You want him. You need him. You’ve needed him for so long it seems. You find your muffled ministrations in the shower getting more and more frantic- your fingers pumping into your cunt relentlessly but giving you none of the relief you seek. When you are able to cum, it’s always with a whimper of sensei or doctor or professor- sometimes even a daring Natsuo. You get restless and impatient, desperate and a little hopeless. If your teacher senses or sees that, he doesn’t say anything- in fact, his gaze seems to avert from the feverish look in your eyes, he seems to pull away from your bold, reckless attempts to get closer to him.  That hurts. That makes you angry. That makes you feel stupid. But he still wants you- or, at least, he still finds you tempting. You know he does- he can’t hide the way his eyes fall on you whenever you walk into the room, he can’t hide the quick glances he lays over you when he thinks no one else can see. You see his hesitance and want. You see it. ...if he’s not going to act on his desires, if he’s going to resist, then you’re going to kick things up a notch- someone has to; you can’t live with this stalemate any longer. It’s not a punishment, not really- it’s just throwing in his face what he’s missing out on. (My, whenever did you become so reckless and cruel? When did you become so desperate?) The ratio of boys to girls in the class is quite staggering- something one would think the university wouldn’t allow for fear of lawsuits. There are three boys for each girl- ambitious, studious, virginal, frantically horny things with expectations piled high on their shoulders and stress wracking their every thoughts. (It wouldn’t be unfair to say they you’re just like them- just sans the virginal part, double the stressed and horny part to make up for it) They’re good boys, for the most part- friendly and tired, nice but none of them quite to your taste or striking enough to jar your fixation from your sensei. Some of them are even handsome- which makes this a lot easier. “Oh, you brought me coffee? Thank you so much, Dai-chan! You’re so sweet!” The kiss you lay upon your classmate’s cheek makes him blush and fluster. It also makes your dear teacher stare- eyes wide and brow furrowed when you flick your gaze his way, his lips twitching as if he’s not sure if he wants to frown or not. The soft giggle you let out does bring a frown- something that deepens whenever one of the other boys comes over to grab your attention, try his hand. You should have thought of using them earlier on- they’ve been eager enough to try to flirt this whole time. Doctor Natsuo, for his part, doesn’t say or do anything- of course he doesn’t. But his usually happy temperament turns a bit tense, a little sour. He doesn’t lash out, not really, but you can see the way his teeth grit and his brow puckers whenever one of the boys dares to lay their hand on your arm, the small of your back. Good, you think- vicious and bitter, sour yourself. Get jealous. “What the fuck is up with Todoroki lately?” “Dude, did you hear how he snapped at Araka?” “Do you think something happened? He seems...stressed.” Your classmates trade hushed whispers as they flee the room, but you don’t think to join them- you stay quiet and soak in their quiet gossip, smile sharply without a look back to your grimacing, frustrated sensei. Just a little more. At this point, you’re not even sure what you want from him- an admittance of his own desires, him hurting and annoyed? You don’t know. You just want something to happen- you need something to break this little silent game apart. You think and think and think over what could raise the situation to the breaking point and, finally, you settle on something simple. The night before your Thursday class, you invite over one of your classmates- Eita; one of the more attractive ones, one of the less nervous ones. Your roommate is gracious enough to stay away (thanks to your offer of money for booze and weed and help with her homework) and you have the room all to yourself. Three beers and some easy flirtations, just a few small touches- that’s all it takes to get what you’re after. You don’t let him fuck you- he’s not worth it, nowhere near what you want- but you let him fumble his hands over you, are kind enough to wrap your hand around his cock while his lips frantically roam and suck over your neck. You don’t let him come until you’re absolutely sure that you have what you want. It reduces him to a whining mess- which, hey, is honestly kind of cute. You rebuff his sweet offers to “return the favor” and send him off with a kiss to the cheek, spend the rest of your night nursing a glass of wine and silently brooding- mind tired and body exhausted, your desires so restless. The next day you dress in a pleated, short skirt that just barely skims the middle of your thighs and fix your hair into a cute little updo, don your now signature mary janes and pull on a brand new pair of knee high socks. The sly comments you get throughout the day are annoying, but easily ignored. You’re impatient through the morning and it only gets worse as Doctor Natsuo’s class creeps closer. You spend the day jittering your leg and biting your lip, checking your phone every few moments and huffing to yourself, clutching at your arms and trying not to pace up and down the school’s halls. Finally- finally- it’s time for your favorite class. You have to force yourself to walk slowly toward it. You have to breathe in deep to quiet your pounding heart, to still your trembling hands. This has to spur something on. You walk into the classroom- skirt swaying, lips hiding your anticipation behind a smile. You ignore Professor Natsuo and make your way to Eita’s desk, plant your elbows on it and rest your chin in your hand, arch your hips up so your teacher can be teased by the sight of your soft thighs and curves, taunted by how just an inch or two of fabric prevents your panties from being flashed. (Is he looking? He has to be looking. He better be looking.) “Eita-kun,” you coo, sweet and loud enough for others to hear, “I had such a good time last night. We should do it again.” Eita’s eyes widen and his cheeks flush. You might enjoy it if you weren’t so distracted by the noise of a coffee cup slamming down and clattering on the desk behind you, if your breathing didn’t hitch so sharply at the fault in your sensei’s composure. Slowly, you straighten yourself to standing and turn around. Professor Natsuo’s face is red and flustered- jealous- when you look and his eyes are narrowed at you, his coffee spilled on the desk. You offer him a sweet blink and a sweeter smile, tilt your head so he can see the blossomed bruise tinting your throat pewter and mauve, a stormy and swirling blue. His eyes widen, his gaze darts behind you. Your smile grows. How do you like that, sensei? Your hands tremble just a little- from nerves, from excitement, from aching anticipation- and you clasp them behind your back to hide them from his gaze, lean forward and peer over his desk. “Are you okay, sir?” you ask him- chirping and so very sweet. “Do you need help cleaning that up?” He stares at you- disbelieving and still so evident in his shock, his envy. Some strangled noise chokes its way up and out of his throat whenever you flutter your lashes his way and smug amusement gathers in you as you watch his jaw tighten, his teeth grit as he tries to gather his composure once more. “No. Sit.” Oh. You’ve never heard him sound like that before. So authoritative, so stern. So hot. It’s your turn to let out a noise- something soft and almost curious, accompanied by flushed cheeks. You obey your teacher and sit down without a fuss- thighs pressing together and already growing damp, lip bitten and eyes half-shut as you watch him silently clean up the coffee. He doesn’t look at you throughout the whole lesson. He doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t call on you. He doesn’t smile or laugh or joke around. He’s...cold throughout the class- words iced over and posture rigid, his face holding no warmth at all. You gulp as you listen to him lecture and squirm in your seat- nerves starting to gather and grow despite the way you’re still so very wet between your thighs. You had wanted something to happen. You were determined to force anything to happen. But maybe- maybe you miscalculated. Maybe you fucked up. It’s something of a relief when the class ends. Usually, you like to linger for a few moments, like to stay just a bit longer than necessary so you can grab your teacher’s attention with a question or some sort of compliment over the lesson. Today, though? Today you shoot up from your seat without delay, begin to gather all your supplies as quickly as you can. At least...at least until he says your name. It’s firm, just a little icy. You stiffen at the sound and gulp, look back at him with wide eyes and a nervous smile. Before hearing your name part from your teacher’s lips would send you flying high, but right now...right now your skin is tingling with a giddy apprehension, your fingertips are trembling as you search his face for any hint of what’s to come. “I need to have a word with you,” Doctor Natsuo tells you- eyes boring into yours and keeping you frozen where you stand. “I, um,” you try to weakly protest, “I have to get to my next class...” “It won’t take long.” If he catches your wince, he doesn’t react to it. Professor Natsuo simply leans against his desk as the rest of the students file out- arms folded over his chest, sleeves rolled up to display thick forearms. And you? You stay rooted to the spot- heart pounding and eyes still wide, cheeks flushed and thighs damp. When the last student leaves, Professor Natsuo walks over to the door and closes it shut. Click. W-Wait- did he just- “D-Doctor Natsuo?” you squeak out. “What are you- what are you doing?” “I think I should be asking that question.” Oh, shit. Your teacher turns around slowly and the look he gives you takes your breath away. He looks angry and frustrated. He looks pissed. Pissed, but there’s- there’s something more- there’s- “What-” He takes a step toward you, you take a step back. “- do you think you’re doing, young lady?” The whimper that leaves you is equal parts anxious and needy- soft and unwanted. You probably shouldn’t find the growl in his words so hot. Your knees probably shouldn’t knock together and your pussy shouldn’t throb at the snap of young lady. But it’s- you didn’t expect him to be like this. But you- it’s- A tremble wracks through you and Professor Natsuo takes another step toward you. You bump against his desk whenever you stumble back and flinch at the wood that slams into your lower back, gasp and whimper once more when big hands fall to the table on both your sides, when your teacher brackets your trembling form and keeps you enclosed and captive. His eyes are narrowed. His cheeks are flushed. His cologne smells so nice up close, his height has your lashes fluttering and your breathing shuddering as you’re forced to tilt your head back to look up at him with wide eyes. “S- Sir?” “Don’t sir me,” he snaps, crowding closer to you. “I’ve lost my patience with you playing coy.” He’s lost his patience? Your mouth opens to shoot off something probably very stupid, but the words die as a big, cool hand finds your throat and forces your head to a tilt. The touch is beyond expected, has you crying out softly and gripping onto his shirt, almost hyperventilating. The pin prick retraction of your pupils is dramatic and so is your whimpering exhales but, god, this is not what you had expected. “You’ve been toying with me for weeks now,” Doctor Natsuo growls out, his fingers digging into the hickey on your neck. “All your short skirts and little touches, your shameless flirtations- you’ve been trying to drive me mad, haven’t you?” “Pr- Professor,” you whimper out, thighs rubbing together and a moan threatening to sound. “I just- I just wanted-” “You just wanted some attention,” he huffs out- his other hand gripping at your waist and his knee knocking your legs apart. “You wanted to see what would break me, right? That’s why you came in flaunting this today.” Your teacher’s thigh slots between yours and his fingers push deeper into your bruised flesh, his stormy eyes narrow and take in the way you shudder, how your cheeks flush even darker and your eyes start to turn just a bit glossy. A mewl leaves you- embarrassing and so needy, so helpless- and you whine softly after, try to turn your head away so he can’t see the way all your bravado and confidence is melting away into your selfish, needy, hopeless desires. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he demands- forcing your face back to him. He doesn’t look angry now- just frustrated- and your stuttered little gasp only makes his teeth grit, the way your thighs squeeze his makes his breath in sharp and deep. “Go on- tell me.” You- you can’t. You can’t deny him, can’t lie. Not now that things have finally boiled over, not now that he’s finally confronting you. Not now that you’re about to come just from the feeling of his thigh pressing against your soaked cunt. Not now that you’re so close to moaning and falling into a pleading, begging thing. “I- I had to,” you whine. “You weren’t- you wouldn’t-” “Tch.” The grip on your neck tightens and leaves you whimpering, leaves your fingers curling even tighter into your teacher’s shirt. “I was trying to be a good teacher,” Professor Natsuo grits out. “I was trying to keep from taking advantage of you.” Take advantage of you? You would laugh if it weren’t for your wettening lashes, the way your hips are aching and tightening from trying not to grind over your sensei’s thigh. “Sensei-” “Did you fuck him?” he interrupts- fingers dragging over your hickey and hand gripping your hip tighter, pulling you closer and making you whimper, tremble as your cunt is made to glide over his leg. “Don’t tell me after all this time you settled for a boy like that?” You shake your head the best you can- almost frantic with it, flushed and vaguely angry he would even insinuate that you would hook up with someone after you’ve put in so much effort toward him. “N- No! I wanted- I didn’t want- didn’t want him,” you whine, hips jerking despite yourself, a mewl leaving you whenever your teacher’s breath catches. “Sensei, please-” “Fuck.” The groan that leaves him has your lashes fluttering, your lips parting with a soft whine. The hand on your neck moves to your scalp and buries thick fingers in your hair, messes up your updo and sends your hairtie flying. He ignores the protesting noise that leaves you and looks down at you instead- eyes dark with a need that mirrors your own, nostrils flaring as his breathing turns heavy. “You are so naughty,” Doctor Natsuo growls- one hand curling his fingers into your hair, the other smoothing down your waist and to your spread legs. “Filthy little thing.” Filthy? You’re not- you’re not- The hand at your waist moves to loosen his tie and you whimper when he pops open his top button, when he shifts his hips forward and you feel his cock hard on your thigh. “Pl- please, sensei,” you breathe out in a beg- unplanned and so thoughtless, even overwhelmed. “I- I’ll be good! I won’t tell! I just want- I need-” You cut yourself off with a whine and rock against his thigh, look up at him with your wet lashes and flushed cheeks. He groans whenever you whimper and you clutch at him tighter, try to press against him. “I need you, sensei,” you plead- so soft and so desperate. “I need you. I- I promise I’ll be good. I just- I just-” You whimper once more and he groans, grips your waist and sits you on the table rough enough to make all his pens rattle and shake. He slots himself between your spread legs and buries his fingers back into your hair, presses his mouth against yours so fast and hard that it makes your whole world screech to a screaming halt. Your eyes widen and then slam shut, your body goes limp as you whimper and tremble from the way his tongue traces over your bottom lip. You allow your mouth to open and your teacher groans over it, slips his tongue inside and forces you to bend back as he presses closer toward you. Whenever he pulls his head back from yours, there’s a glistening of spit on his lips, a flush to his cheeks. You squirm under his gaze- suddenly so shy, suddenly so flustered- and whine as he stares down at you, arch your back and gasp whenever he forces your head to the side once more and presses his lips to your throat. It hurts when his teeth dig into the already tender, bruised flesh but it sends your mind reeling, has you mewling and reaching to scratch at his back. “Y- Yes! Please! Cover it! Make that mark yours!” The words fly out fast and without any thought, the begging comes from a place you didn’t realize existed within you. You don’t even realize that you mewled such a thing out until your teacher is groaning against your neck, until he’s muttering a, “Fuck- that’s a good girl” right against your throat. If you weren’t so swept up in the situation, you might feel embarrassed. But, you’re not- you’re just gasping and flushed and made even more needy from the praise, from the way your sensei’s hands drag down your sides to grip your waist. Tears blur your vision and a stuttered breath has you shaking, your nails digging deep into soft fabric and clawing over a broad back. “Doctor Natsuo please!” Another groan from your teacher and his hand slips under your skirt, his fingers push your soaked panties to the side and dip into your sopping cunt. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he growls, curling two thick digits and making you cry out. “Hey- shh, shh. Be good. You promised you were going to be good.” Be good? Oh, fuck, you wanna be good. You bite your lip as your teacher fucks his fingers deep inside you and try so, so, so hard to stay nice and quiet and good. He watches you as you try to muffle your whimper behind your hand and you shake from the way he licks his lips, from the way his lashes lower and his gaze turns approving. “That’s it, baby,” he mumbles. “Good girl. Fuck- turn over.” Professor Natsuo backs away and you can’t quite bite back your whine whenever his fingers leave, can’t quite inject any gracefulness in the way you scramble to comply. He yanks you back whenever you’re on your stomach- has your knees knocking against his desk and your hips arching up. There’s no warning when he grabs the plush flesh of your ass and spreads your cheeks wide. Your face flushes and a soft noise leaves you, your thighs press together as you squirm and whimper. “Cute,” he murmurs, squeezing your butt roughly.  “Even better than I imagined.” Imagined? Oh- oh. He- he thought of you. He fantasized about you. Sensei- sensei got off to you. Your cunny clenches and your teacher groans- low and deep and accompanied by the sound of a zipper being pulled down. When you look back over your shoulder at him, his fingers are undoing his tie and you’re left blinking in confusion as he wraps each end around his palms. “Professor...?” “Open your mouth.” You do so without hesitation- lips falling open and fingers curling against the wood of the desk. Professor Natsuo slips his tie between your lips and you whine as it digs into your cheeks, shudder whenever he gives it a tight tug. “Now be a good student for your sensei,” he instructs, gathering the tie in one hand and pulling out his cock with the other. “Quiet and good.” You nod the best you can, but it’s a promise you can’t quite keep whenever his cock nestles between your cunt’s lips, whenever the tip eases into your hole and then slams fully in. You cry out- spit wetting your teacher’s silk tie and his hand laying heavy across your ass, your head getting yanked back whenever he jerks on the tie. “What did I say?” He said- he said to be quiet and good. You have to be quiet and good. A muffled whimper leaves you and you rock your hips back, squeeze around your sensei’s cock with the softest little whine. He groans and his hips pap against you, his dick drives in deep enough to have your toes curling and your lashes fluttering. He’s- he’s big. Bigger than you thought he’d be. Bigger than you dared to imagine. The stretch is- it’s so much. But you’re so wet. You’re so needy. Tiny, strangled whimpers leave you as your professor falls into a rhythm and you shudder, do your best to fuck your hips back against him. That stops whenever he grips your waist with a grunt and you whine softly, still and let your teacher fuck you how he pleases. You take it and you love it, get pushed close to orgasm faster than ever before. You almost collapse when you come on his cock and you hiccup out a whine of pleasure, a muffled mewl of his name. Doctor Natsuo groans as your gummy insides spasm around him and his grip becomes bruising, his rocks get faster- harder. Feels so good! Feels so good! Sensei’s dick feels so good! “Shen- shensay!” “Oh, fuck- god- you’re so tight, baby. Good girl- you like sensei’s cock deep inside you? Is this what you wanted?” You whimper and nod- cheek scrubbing against the desk, cunt gripping his cock like a vice. He grunts and grabs onto your hips, forces your head up and back as the tie drags you and forces your back to arch in a tight, painful angle. Still feels good, though. Still feels like everything you wanted. You want- need- so much more. “Shoulda done this sooner,” your teacher groans out. “Shoulda- fuck!” He slams in you deep enough to have your eyes rolling back, hard enough to have your whole body shaking and your nails clawing across his desk. “C’mon, c’mon- take it- take it! Sensei is- Sensei is gonna fill you up- gonna give that needy cunt what it needs!” He’s gonna- he’s gonna- oh, god! Doctor Natsuo fucks into you faster and faster- the movements jarring you against the desk and making it rock, the jab of his cock rushing you to the height of pleasure again. You cry out as he slams into you- the tie falling from your lips as he drops it and forces you back onto the desk, slides his arms under you and grips your shoulders, fucks into you rough and deep and so, so perfectly. Warmth floods inside your pussy and you whimper as you’re filled with your sensei’s seed, twitch and come on his cock again- lashes fluttering and teeth digging into your lip to muffle your whine, honeyed insides milking his dick as if you need more. You do need more- you do. How could you have ever imagined one time would be enough to satisfy your fantasies? Your teacher pants and grinds into you- hot breath fanning over your cheek and his cock sliding out with a wet pop whenever he draws his hips back. You whimper at the loss but mewl when his fingers draw up your slit, slide back and down onto your knees as exhaustion slips over you. Fuck...fuck, did that just happen? A touch to your cheek has you looking up and you blink hazily at your sensei’s flushed cheeks, the shining and wet cock that he stuffs inside his trousers. “Satisfied?” he asks, slightly breathless and a groan hiding in his voice. “Going to be a good girl now? No more teasing sensei?” You nod, not quite thinking over the action or processing the words, only close your eyes when the slightest smile flits across his lips, when his fingers brush over your cheek and his gaze goes heavy lidded. “Sensei...” His fingers glance over your jawline and down low, stroke over your new hickey and bring a mewl. With your eyes closed, you can’t see the way his expression ripples with something hesitant and something curious, something...greedy. Strong hands help you up from the floor and you shudder as your legs tremble, press against his chest and look up at him with heavy eyes, a yearning that you can’t quite hide. He strokes your hair and it’s...nice. Unexpected from the way he reacted before, so very welcome. “...I was harsh with you.” The apologetic tone is also unexpected. Your professor seems to almost fluster, hesitates as he strokes your hair again and allows his grey gaze to look over your flushed cheeks and parted lips, the desire that you can’t quite hide. “...you were a good girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and making you flush even more. “...you gonna keep being good? Not tell?” Of course you’re not going to tell. Of course you’re not going to risk this. You nod without any hesitation and you’re graced with a smile, another kiss that has you wanting to melt against him. “Then in that case...” You blink and watch as he breathes in deep, tilt your head as your heart begins to flutter in your chest. “Come over tonight. I can give you what you want properly.” He wants...he wants you to come over? He wants to fuck you again? You could swear it’s almost a smirk that forms on his face whenever your eyes widen and your breath catches. “I- I...yes, please.” He hums and he steps away- leaving you to stumble slightly and look at him in wonder, an unending adoration that you had pretended wasn’t underneath all your lust for him. “Good. But for now...” Sensei takes a deep breath and then he smiles at you- this time a bit wry, a little amused. “You’re going to be late for your next class.” Next class? Oh- oh shit! A squeak escapes you and you hurry to gather up all your stuff, shove your books in your arms and race toward the door. “Hey.” You freeze as you grab onto the doorknob and nearly tumble into it, look back toward your sensei. “I want you to call me Natsuo when we’re alone.” He- he what? Oh. Oh. You open your mouth, but the trilling of the bell cuts you off and you’re left only with the time to nod and flush, mumble out a soft, “Yes, sir” before you have to rush out the room. You head toward your next class with weak legs and cheeks red from where your sensei’s tie pulled deep into your skin, hair a mess and your teacher’s- Natsuo’s- cum dripping down your thighs. You smile as you rush off to your next class- happy and fucked, eager to see what Natsuo has in store for you later that night.

[fishstyx]

“put the maid outfit on.”

featuring. sub!nagito komaeda x fem!reader

wc. 2.2k

genre. smut

tw. nsfw, penetration (pegging), orgasm denial/edging, praise kink, mild (mild!) toxic masculinity

synopsis. peg nagito 2021 + everyone’s favorite e-boy trend.

“You really think I look good in this..?” 

Your jaw slackens as Nagito materializes in the doorway, fingers fiddling with the hem of his skirt. His shoulders hunch over and his legs bend at the knee, but if he’s trying to make himself smaller, it does little to obscure your view. The costume fits him so well, corset detailing and silk satin bows lining his midriff, white ruffle trim splayed out against his wrists and thighs. Flouncy frills flare from his shoulders, jet puffed sleeves rounding out his sharper edges and broader sides. A pink flush creeps across his cheeks when you fail to respond, teeth locking his bottom lip in place like he’s trying to keep himself from saying anything more.

“I think you look great in it!” 

You clasp your hands together in an attempt to ward off your trance and he cracks a smile in spite of himself, relief washing over his features—but your next words have him standing stick straight. “It makes me feel like I should dress you up more often.” 

Suddenly his brows are threaded with vexation, Mary Janes clacking across the floorboards as he makes his way towards you.

“Please don’t joke about that. Even I take some pride in my manhood,” he pouts, somewhat unconvincingly. “But as long as you’re holding to your end of the deal—“

“And whatever deal could you be talking about?” you ask ever so sweetly, lashes batting away all too knowingly. He stiffens at your feigned ignorance, legs knocking together when you tilt your head pointedly. 

“...You know what deal.” 

Nagito averts his gaze, though unable to escape your own, hands clutching at the lacy material as he sucks in a sharp breath. “The deal we made… where I put this outfit on…” You wait patiently, silent stare urging him to finish the sentence.  “...and you pound my unworthy hole into oblivion.”

“Oh? And what exactly am I going to pound you with?”

However fake your play-pretend innocence, the curiosity in your eyes is very much real, blazing with the vehement desire to hear him say it aloud. The remaining shred of his so-called dignity is slashed to pieces, the hopefulness in your voice too compelling to defy.

“My favorite toy. Please, mess me up with it.” Nagito eyes you nervously, expecting rejection or derision or snide, heart fluttering when he gets only an warm smile in return. “The dildo that I can’t live without. I want it—I need it so bad it hurts,” he continues in a near whisper, but it’s good enough for you. You pull him in immediately, your chin nestling itself in the crook of his neck as your lips come to rest at the shell of his ear.

“Such a good boy, using your words so properly.” He shudders against you as you trace the fabric where it lies snug against his waist, mesmerized by the words of encouragement that spill from your lips. 

“I’m gonna make you see stars.”

Nagito practically bursts with anticipation as you snake your fingers up his skirt, unmoving from the spot where you pushed him onto the bed. With bated breath he lets you kiss up his inner thighs—lets you because normally he wants to do all the work, wants to be your little joyride fuck toy, wants you squirming under his touch. It’s all he can do just to watch, cock already twitching from how good it feels, how utterly starved he’s been of hands besides his own between his legs.

You push at his thighs, pressing them far apart for easy access, chaste kisses becoming damp squeezes as you traverse up the length. A silent smirk tugs at your lips as he throws his head back, the tent beneath his apron growing taller by the second. You palm it instinctively, rubbing circles through the fabric and inviting blood to his sensitive member.

But it’s more of a distraction than anything else, your other hand uncapping the bottle of lube with skill, lathering itself up with ease. Nagito pays it no mind, instead drinking in how you fondle him with eerie similarity to the most despicable of his favorite fantasies. So when a lone finger begins to circle at his entrance, he reels with an unexpected jolt, back arched like a cat. You waste no time in sinking a digit inside, sinful groans following one after another.

And then you’re pumping him with two fingers, swirling them in tandem and scissoring them apart a knuckle deep, then another. He’s biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, fighting the maddening urge to move on his own, to just take the reins and ram you inside of him. He’s already coursing with the need for something more substantial, and it’s obvious that he’s ready to take additional girth.

“Used to me already?” you ask, more statement than question. Nagito hesitates before nodding, sheepishness written into the slow bob of his head. “You’ve been playing with this lonely hole behind my back, haven’t you?” But he can’t bring himself to confirm or deny it, the way he peers back at you answer enough.

You reach for the harness in turn, untangling the heaps of straps right before him, his dildo of choice following soon after. You snap the towering thing into place with a satisfying click, swaying your hips as you guide the thigh straps to their final resting place. The fit is snug, belt of the strap just about digging into your flesh—but not quite—and you turn your back to add the finishing touches.

You’re dripping with lube when you face him again, glossy slick accentuating every vein, every bulge that graces your makeshift cock. You chuckle at the way his legs are spread already, the way he’s waiting on you with a look that says take me now, hold me down and fuck me silly.

But he’s ahead of himself as usual, and it’s inevitable that he chokes back a whimper when you disappear inside of him. He gives the prospect of pain no heed, silently pleading for you to move, and you click your tongue in distaste.

“Breathe,” you command, waiting for him to loosen. Green eyes shift expectantly from the strap-on to your own, an exasperated whine starting to form at his lips, but he knows his place and does as you say.

Nagito complies with the rise and fall of his chest, evidenced by the soft sway of a centerpiece bow. His muscles begin to relax even as you’re splitting him in two, and you angle your hips up in preparation. The tip of your silicone cock has barely brushed against his sensitive gland, yet it already has him quivering, hungry for more.

It’s in the middle of a deep breath when you finally deem him ready, doubling back before bucking into that same spot that has his jaw dropping and his eyes squeezing shut. A shaky exhale stutters from his wide-open mouth and he melts into a panting mess as you find your pace.

“Good boy. Such a good boy, making all that noise for me,” you repeat, chant-like words a melody to his ears.

“Y-you really think so?” he struggles to get out, little mewls escaping him even as he speaks. “Even when I’m… being so… selfish?”

“Shh, don’t say things like that. I feel it too, baby boy,” you’re quick to say—and you’re not lying, far from it in fact. The hilt of the dildo rocks against your clit each time your hips meet, the pulsating pressure tempting you to plunge even deeper. And with the face that he’s making, all reddened cheeks and parted lips, how could you not?

You’re snapping into him now, reveling in the challenge posed by the sheer length of his choice toy. It’s hard work with the way he clamps around you, but the tingle it shoots up your spine and the squelch it sends to your ears are well worth the effort. The marvelous stretch draws a throaty “f-fuuuuck” out of him, the god-sent sensation making him throb all the more.

But with every plunge you take, you’re met with the bounce of his pretty pink cockhead, a rebounding reminder of what you’ve left unattended. His neglected shaft looms in stark contrast to his black and white garb, breath hitching when you finally decide to wrap around it. Your movements are painfully slow to begin with, building up the pressure before picking up in speed, and he keens his dissatisfaction until you’re jerking him off to the same brutal rhythm of your rolling hips.

“I think I’m gonna cum,” he cries, locks of hair cascading past his pleated headband as you press into a spot so sweet he thinks he just might come undone; but you have other plans in mind. Your movements slow before coming to a lurching halt, the absence of stimulation quick to dampen the mood.

“Good boys cum when they’re told to,” you say, but the explanation does little to appease him. A look of disappointment leaps to his face, his lips pursed in dismay—or perhaps it’s betrayal.

He looks so disheveled like this, staring at your open palm like maybe his wordless begging can coax you back into stroking him. Hazy eyes glaze over, tufts of hair spilling every which way as he sits himself up, but you aren’t done with him yet.

It’s simple to redirect his movement, his weak limbs no match for your own as you turn him over so he’s kneeling on the bed. He tries to look back but you push him down by the neck, hiking his skirt up as you position yourself behind him. His ass is raised in the air without so much as being told, and you align with his fluttering hole before breaking him in again.

You were right to make him wait; he’s shaking in excitement now, tense with amplified arousal as his knees buckle underneath you. Bottoming out is so much easier like this, your pistons devoured whole and spat back out with each and every thrust. You draw back slowly only to bury yourself once more, repeating the motion until his moaning runs incoherent, completely wracked with shivering pleasure. You can’t tell if he’s humping the mattress, grinding against you, or both, but he’s reaching his climax again and the both of you know it.

“Can I finish now? Pretty please?” Nagito asks, so strained and so breathily that you nearly miss it. “Please, it hurts so good, please please please, I’m head over heels for your cock!”

The thought of stopping again is too cruel for you to give even a moment’s consideration, so you pin his wrist against his back and collect a fistful of hair in your hand before leaning in to award him with the magic words:

“Go ahead, then. Cum for me.”

You slam into him as he rides through the peak of his bliss, squirming in wretched ecstasy as he collapses under his own weight. You can only imagine what kind of expression he’s making with his head face-first in the bedsheets, the kinds of shapes his mouth is forming when you pull his hair back like this. Violent spasms render Nagito otherwise immobile, unable to move of his own accord. He’s going completely slack, quivers shorting until you wonder if he passed out from the aftershock.

It comes as a surprise when you notice him barely holding on, eyelids threatening to shut close when you pull him into your arms. He looks like a cheap whore in that kitschy uniform of his, thick white cum smeared all over the black fabric. Beads of drool streak his chin but he’s too fucked-out to notice, let alone care.

“You did so well for me,” you whisper as Nagito nuzzles into your chest, drowsy and spent. I don’t deserve this at all, he thinks, a dull echo reverberating in the back of his mind.

“I’m so proud of you,” you coo as you stroke his cheek with your thumb. Proud of what? My greediness? My utter uselessness?

But he’s too exhausted to fight your praises, self-doubt dwindling away to nothing as you hum your approval. He snuggles against your palm without even realizing it, subconscious of his mind chasing after contact with your bare skin. In his docile state, you can’t help but to hold him close, intimate proximity sating the needs of which he’s too adamant to admit aloud.

But all good things must come to an end, and eventually, your adrenaline dies down, too. You feel as though you’re a husk of yourself, curling up beside him and letting the fatigue tide you over. As much as you’d love to watch your symbol of hope fall asleep, your eyelids feel so, so heavy now, and you expend the last of your energy on little kitten kisses that trail up his temple and dot down his nose. Your collective consciousness fades away until all that’s left is the syncing of your breath, a singular flow of air where you lay wrapped around one another.

He’ll never admit just how good it felt to be pampered this way, but you’ll never regret taking care of him.

fishstyx © 2021 ✸ all content and their rights belong to me. do not repost, reproduce, or modify anywhere.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

OHSHC: Mitsukuni (Honey) x Fem!Reader Fluff

A/N: Okay so this was something I wrote WAY back in 2013 when I was obsessed with Ouran Highschool Host Club. So I did make a bunch of revisions (like fixing typos and changing up some of the events that occur).

But if you wanna read the original check it out on my DeviantArt!

Welp, hope ya'll enjoy this!

It was a lovely Friday afternoon. School was out and most students were eager to go home. 

But you, on the other hand, decided to visit the Host Club for a few hours. You always looked forward going to it everyday after school, though not just because you desperately wanted to be swooned by handsome men.

You just liked to observe the hosts indulging in their element, be it Tamaki’s flamboyant acts or the Hitachiin twins’ performances. All the while, you drank tea and ate delicious pastries whilst chatting with other ladies who babbled about their crushes.

Most had their eyes on Tamaki, for obvious reasons, but for you there was a different host that stole your heart every time, without fail:

Mitsukuni, or “Honey” as everyone liked to call him. 

You did have a slight crush on him, considering you both shared classes and hung-out quite often on the weekends. But even after all the years you’ve known him, you never actually acted on this crush, not wanting to take away his duties as a host.

Besides he might treat you extra “sweetly”, but you assumed he was like this with all the other girls.

Unbeknownst to you, however, Honey didn't see you the same way as he saw them. To him you weren't just another visitor to entertain.

He saw you as something, well, more.

........

'Okay this wasn't...what I expected. But I guess I'll have to stay for a little while longer..' You sighed as you looked down at the blonde who was now laying on your lap.

Honey must've had a sugar crash, since he fell asleep on the same sofa you so-happened to be on, even though the club meeting had ended fifteen minutes ago.

'Poor guy must be tired, running around and entertaining..he deserves at least this.' Relaxing back against the sofa, you gently stroked his hair with one hand, and kept Usa-chan wrapped around your free arm. You were sure he wouldn't mind it, given that he's let you hold it before.

All the while, you hummed a gentle song, taking note of the tiny smile that adorned his sleeping face. You knew very well that you shouldn't move, but you didn't mind it. 

Being able to get this close to him made it worthwhile.

Haruhi, Mori, and Kyoya would glance over every so often while they were cleaning up, smiling at the scene. Meanwhile, Tamaki and the twins were hiding behind a nearby couch, looking at you with comically-wide eyes. They wondered how you've managed to not wake up Honey at all, and how you were so calm.

You looked over and gave them a bemused smile, waving politely. Honestly you didn't know what their deal was. They were staring at you like you were about to invoke the wrath of god.

Or in this case the wrath of the loli-shota.

"H-How does [y/n] do that?" The frenchman stammered as he gazed at the twins.

""It must be Nekozawa's sleeping magic. Maybe she's in cahoots with him."" The brothers replied, trembling too.

"You guys are acting insane." Haruhi sighed as she walked past the three with a porcelain tray in her hands. "She’s known Honey-senpai for years, so..it's obvious they're close. Doesn’t take a genius to know why she’s not afraid of him.”

"But why does she keep choosing him every time she visits?!! A-Am I somehow unworthy?!!" Tamaki cried out, already tearing up. "It makes no sense!! Mommy!! What do you make of this?!!" He swung his head to the already-annoyed Kyoya.

"Tamaki..our job here at the club is to make every girl happy, right? That includes Miss [L/n]-"

"B-But-But..she could at least give me a cha--!!"

"If you'll let me finish..." The black-haired male huffed. "Like every girl here, she has the right to choose whichever host she desires. You don't get to make that decision for her. So I suggest you keep it down, lest you wake up Honey-senpai." Fixing his glasses, he turned back to his laptop, ending the conversation.

Tamaki pouted in defeat and got up from his hiding spot. The twins followed him to where you sat and crouched down, now more curious than fearful.

"Gentlemen." You sighed quietly, waiting for them to get to the point so they could leave you alone.

"How are you able to keep so calm??" Hikaru hissed.

"We told you how he acts when his nap is disturbed.” Kaoru added. “You’re taking a big risk-”

“You’re overreacting a bit.” Finding it hard not to chuckle at their bewildered expressions, you kept your gaze on Honey instead. "I see no reason to be terrified of him waking up from a nap. People get cranky after naps all the time. But they eventually get over it, don't they?"

Then you glanced back up at the three, smiling reassuringly. "I do believe that little “horror story” you told me. But don't worry, if anything happens I'll protect you guys, okay? Nothing bad will happen to anyone here...especially not Honey.” You patted the sleeping blonde’s head.

The twins were relieved--moved, even--by your response, but Tamaki on the other hand seemed a bit freaked out by your promise to protect them. He tried grabbing your shoulders to yell about how “guys should protect girls, not the other way around”, though the duo managed to restrain him.

"B-Boss!! Cut it out!"

"You're gonna wake him!!!"

Unfortunately, the commotion they were making was exactly what stirred Honey from his rest. The three hosts immediately retreated back to their hiding place, expecting their fellow club member to awaken in rage.

But all he did was open his eyes and rub them tiredly. 

"Morning, Hon." You chuckled, ruffling his hair lightly.

As he realized you were still in the same spot as before, he smiled up at you. "Did I really sleep all night, [y/n]-chan?"

"No, only for a little while." You allowed him to sit up, and you handed him Usa-chan. "Have any good dreams?"

"Hmm..yeah, I did." Honey took his rabbit plushie, legs swinging as he tried to recall the details. "I..we were at a fair with lots of cake and ice cream! Then I...o-on the ferris wheel I might've..." He hugged the rabbit closer, to the point of hiding his blushing face.

You tilted your head in curiosity. "Might've what?"

"A-Asked you out and..and k-kissed you."

His response stunned you, and you could feel your heart skip several beats. In truth you've had similar dreams, although you never did get to the kissing part--instead you'd wake up with disappointment, never knowing if he accepted your confession.

"You know I dreamed of that, too. But..I never knew what your answer would be." You sighed despondently. "No matter how much I try to fall back asleep..I can't finish that dream. It's a shame.."

He shyly looked up at you, and he set down Usa-chan before taking your hands into his own. You gazed at him with surprise, wondering what he was going to do. "Honey? What-?"

His face inched closer to yours, and before you knew it, he kissed you perfectly on the lips.

Yep! Right here and right now he was kissing you!

The kiss tasted sweet, much like his personality and all those desserts he's had throughout the day. And you were in shock that this was really happening, but you smiled into the kiss, wanting to return it before he got the wrong idea.

When you both broke apart, Honey's eyes were large and tearful. But they were happy tears. "Y-You really do like me? But..I-I thought...I was too-"

"Honey, there's nothing about you that I don't love." You chuckled. "You're a good-hearted, smart, strong, and kind man. And that's all I could ever ask for. We've been great friends for a while and...the fact we share the same dreams must mean something."

"Something like...u-us being a couple, right?"

"Exactly, and right now..I wanna make those dreams a reality. Will you help me make them so?"

He was so overjoyed that he embraced you tightly, nearly crushing your spine. But you hugged him back, resting your chin on top of his head. You could feel his vigorous nod and knew that this is what he wanted for so long.

Of course he was probably still worried about his position as a host, so you looked to the others in question. "A-Ah..I meant to ask-"

"I see no issue with this," Kyoka smiled lightly. "I trust that this newly-blossoming relationship will not interfere with club activities."

""We knew you two were gonna get together eventually."" The twins spoke in unison once more, although they were just glad that Honey didn't snap at anyone this time.

Haruhi and Mori only flashed smiles at you two, the latter happy about his cousin finally confessing to the one he loved. He’s known about it longer than anyone at the club.

Once you let go of Honey, he jumped up and grabbed your hands, pulling you to your feet. "Takashi!! Can [y/n] come over for the weekend??"

"Sure, why not?" The tall male nodded.

"Yaaaay--huh? Tama-chan?" Honey blinked as he noticed the only one who didn't react positively was the club leader himself, who was sulking in the corner. "Aren't you gonna say anything?"

"Yes..I'd say we're all done here," he sighed in an exasperated tone. "If [y/n]'s happiness lies with Honey-senpai then...that's how it is, I guess. The host club is dismissed. You’re all free to leave now."

Of course, that wasn't the kind of send-off anyone expected. But the other hosts left, figuring Tamaki would eventually get over it. Though you told Honey to wait outside for a moment, not wanting to end this day on a sour note.

You reentered the now empty music room, seeing the princely-type staring out the window solemnly. Part of you felt guilty for not spending more time with him, even though he was often a nuisance trying to steal your attention.

"Hey, Tamaki-senpai..I have a feeling I somehow offended you by choosing Honey over you. And I'm sorry-"

"Nonsense." He glanced back at you, the brightness returning to his violet eyes. "I'm so obsessed with trying to charm every lady that it turned me into a blind fool. Until now I never realized that, in the end, it's what makes you happy, not me. I won't get in the way of your relationship with Honey-senpai. Cross my heart."

He made a gesture to seal that promise, smiling softly. "I mean it. I'm very happy for you two and I wish you all the best."

Knowing that he wasn't angry or upset anymore, you smiled and rewarded the "king" with a peck on the cheek. He gasped lightly and stared at you, touching the spot where you kissed him.

"Thank you. It's because of you and this club that I got to know Honey even more so...I owe you at least this. Have a good weekend." You winked before you turned on your heel and ran after your new boyfriend, leaving an incredibly flustered Tamaki alone in the room.

'Ahaha..her heart may belong to another, but she took the time to repair mine.’

[arrowflier]

Fic prompt: How do people who tangentially know Ian react when Gay Jesus goes viral? Do they reach out to Ian/the Gallaghers? Lip's college friends, Milkovich cousins, ROTC classmates, Kash and Linda ... Is Gus Pfender telling someone Gay Jesus was his brother-in-law for 4 seconds? :D

I Heard it Through the Grapevine

“This is a pretty new one,” Gus Pfender said into the mic, sitting onstage at a little bar on the outskirts of New York City. “About a girl I knew a while back. A girl that was totally crazy, you all know the type.” He paused and waited for the knowing laughter to die down.

“No, but really though, she was!” he continued, idly tapping on the neck of his guitar as he talked. “She got me to marry her and everything, then slept with her ex, then tried to marry some other guy before we were even separated! Can you believe that?”

The laughter was more awkward that time, but he didn’t notice.

“Anyway, turns out she came by crazy honestly, runs in the family or something.” Even his band mates were starting to get a little antsy behind him, but he wasn’t quite done throwing his ex under the metaphorical bus.

“Yeah, get this—her little brother started a cult, called himself Gay Jesus or somethin’. Just saw him on the news—he blew up a van!” Gus laughed so hard he almost fell off his stool, but the audience was quiet.

The drummer cleared his throat behind him, and Gus finally got with the program, righting himself and coughing into the mic before saying, “Anyway, here it is; sing along loud if you know it, maybe she’ll hear us all the way back in Chicago.”

And he launched into the opening chords of “Fuck You Fiona”.

In the audience, Mandy Milkovich straightened up at the first round of Fiona’s name echoing around the dimly lit room. Her date—well, her client—touched her arm, and she jerked away before she could remember herself. Remember that she was supposed to like being touched, now.

“Sorry,” she simpered at the short older man, putting her hand on his when he let it fall to the table between them. “You just surprised me, hun.”

She smiled at him sweetly, pressing her tongue to the back of her teeth until it hurt. “Be right back,” she promised him quickly, before standing and grabbing her purse from the back of her chair. “Just need to go freshen up for you.”

She cringed as she said it, but it had the desired effect, the man just waving her away as he turned his attention back to the stage just in time for the rousing chorus of “fuck you”.

As soon as the bathroom door slammed shut behind her, Mandy was leaning over the sink, breathing heavily. Chicago. Fiona. Crazy family. Little brother.

Ian.

She fumbled in her purse for her phone, a sleek black thing that one of her more dedicated clients had bought for her. She swiped past the homescreen that he had set to a picture of the two of them, and opened up her browser.

Ian Gallagher she typed in, holding her breath as the results of the search loaded.

It came out in a single whoosh when she saw it, leaving her limp against the dirty porcelain.

Chicago’s Ian ‘Gay Jesus’ Gallagher Charged with Arson and Destruction of Property read the very top headline. Mandy skimmed the rest through the tears that filled her eyes, not daring to let them fall.

Ian Gallagher, middle child of six, pled guilty by reason of insanity at his trial last week, claiming his unmedicated bipolar disorder was the reason for his irrational behavior.

Oh god, Ian.

Last time she saw him, Ian had his shit together. He had a job, and a boyfriend, and he was taking his meds, and he kept her calm and helped her deal with a fucking body and gave her a place to stay for the night. What had happened since then? How had things gone so wrong for him again?

She didn’t know. She needed to know. She needed to know that he was okay.

Mandy bit her lip, mind racing as she considered her options. None of them were good. Mickey was gone. She didn’t speak to the rest of her family. She could call Iggy, or Colin she supposed, but she wasn’t even sure they weren’t in jail themselves. Besides, if they weren’t, she didn’t want Terry overhearing.

With shaking hands, she dialed a number she had been pretending she didn’t know, instead. A number that she had been trying her best to forget.

Phillip Gallagher picked up on the very first ring.

“Yeah, alright. No, I know, Mandy. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you posted.”

Lip sighed as he pressed the end call button, rubbing a hand over his face. Joaquin, sitting next to him, blew a stream of smoke in Lip’s face until he straightened again, coughing.

“The hell was that for, asshole?” he asked, waving the smoke away. “You know how much shit I’m gonna get if Tami smells that on me?”

Joaquin snorted. “Still can’t believe you shacked up with your baby-mamma, man,” he teased. “You have a kid now, what the fuck?”

“Yeah, well,” Lip muttered, reaching over to steal the joint right out of his hand despite his warnings about the smell. “A lot of things have changed since the last time I saw you.”

No shit. The last time Joaquin had seen Lip Gallagher, he’d been helping him steal money from the high-end startup Lip was working for. Then he’d just disappeared, only to wander into the little cafe where Joaquin liked to take lunch just a few days ago. They’d been catching up a little bit each day since, but Joaquin’s head was still spinning trying to equate this short-haired, run-down family man with the brilliant guy he knew back in the day.

“So, who was that?” Joaquin pried. “Who’s Mandy? You two-timing your girl already, Gallagher?”

“Fuck no,” Lip exclaimed, nearly spitting out the joint. Joaquin snatched it back immediately—the Gallagher he knew never would have risked the good stuff like that.

“No,” Lip repeated more calmly. “I uh, used to date her,” he revealed. “Before I knew you. But that was a long time ago.”

Joaquin nodded. “So what’s she callin’ you for then?”

Lip rubbed at his lip—Joaquin giggled in his head at that thought—and went quiet for a long moment. Joaquin just sat by him and smoked, content to wait it out.

“She was asking about my brother,” Lip answered finally. “They were friends.”

“Which brother?” Joaquin questioned. “The janitor, or the crazy one?”

Lip eyed him oddly. “The janitor is the crazy one,” he said, but Joaquin shook his head.

“No, no,” he rambled, “the little guy, the one you thought was dealin’.”

“Carl?” Lip clarified, and laughed, fingers picking idly at the knee of his jeans. “Nah, Carl’s actually doin’ alright now, I think. It’s Ian. The one you met.”

“What’s goin’ on with him?”

Lip hesitated, and then, “You heard about Gay Jesus?” he asked, and Joaquin felt his eyes go wide. He almost dropped the joint himself this time.

“No way,” he breathed out. “That was him?” He gestured wildly. “With the kids, and the cult, and the van?”

“That was him,” Lip confirmed grimly. “Off his meds, we think. That’s what he says, at least.”

Joaquin whistled, and handed the joint back. “Think you need this more than me right now,” he said.

Lip didn’t disagree when he took it.

Linda looked up when a stranger entered her store, then promptly rolled her eyes and went back to her magazine. The kids were with the sitter and the store was practically empty, so there was no reason not to take some time for herself for once. A single stoner wandering around the aisles wasn’t that much of a concern.

Still, she kept an eye on him as he poked through what they had to offer. He wasn’t bad looking, despite his floppy hair and red-rimmed eyes—reminded her a little bit of a young Kash, even.

She promptly hated herself for thinking of her absent, no-good husband, and hated the stranger in the store for making her do it.

So when he finally came to the counter, holding two bags of chips and a Red Bull, she might have been just a tad ruder than normal.

“Put it on the counter,” she ordered gruffly when he just stood there, staring into space.

“Whoa, yeah, sorry, sorry,” he rambled, doing as he was bid. “Just came from visiting a buddy, guess I left my mind behind a bit, huh?” He giggled. A grown man just giggled in her store.

“Maybe you know them, the Gallaghers?” He continued while she rang him up. Her hands barely paused when she heard the name. That was a long time ago, and they didn’t come here anymore.

The stoner was still talking, though. “Man they’ve had some bad luck, you know?” He shook his head. “First with Lip’s stuff, now his brother again?”

Linda stilled, bag of chips still in hand.

“Which brother?” she asked despite herself. She shouldn’t care, but somehow she still did. That little shit had stolen her husband, got his boyfriend shot in her store, and bailed on her with no warning, but when he had been there, he had been good to her. Helped her run the store, even helped her with the kids if she begged. She’d been sad to hear it when he went off the rails, but the rumor around town was that he was doing better, now.

“The crazy red-haired one,” the stoner answered, and she guessed a rumor was all it had been. “They call him Gay Jesus now, he blew up a van and everything.”

“Ten seventy-five,” she told him, not commenting any more on the topic. It wasn’t her business.

But as the stranger walked out the door, leaving her to her magazine again, she considered sending some sort of basket to the Gallagher house. For old time’s sake.

She was so caught up in her thoughts, she didn’t even notice the bell over the door ring a second time as someone else hurried out.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Iggy Milkovich muttered to himself as he rushed off down the street away from the Kash’N’Grab, forgetting to even steal anything in his hurry.

Ian fucking Gallagher. Gay fucking Jesus. How had nobody around him seen that coming?

Iggy remembered when Ian was living with them, before he went crazy the first time. Or while he went crazy the first time? Who fucking knew, that kid was always off the rails if he thought taking up with Iggy’s kid brother right under Terry’s nose was a good fucking idea.

But there was that one time, when things were mostly still going good, when he remembered hearing Mickey talk to his boy about crashing some funeral. A funeral for a fairy soldier that Ian knew when he was going by his brother’s name out at bootcamp. They’d come home from that thing with Ian practically vibrating, bouncing off the walls with fury at the protest they had wandered into, and he had seen the way it made Mickey freak out.

Mickey was in Mexico now. Iggy knew that. Everybody fucking knew that, even if they pretended they didn’t. And it was a bad fucking idea for him to find out about this, for so many reasons.

But Iggy couldn’t do that to his brother. He couldn’t hide something like this. And if Mickey found out some other way, from someone else…well. There was no saying what stupid shit that fucker might do.

So when he got home, he hit the bong to calm his racing heart. Then he picked up the phone, and dialed a number he wasn’t supposed to know.

“Yeah, thanks Ig,” Mickey said into his burner phone. “I already knew.”

His partner for the day, some new cartel wannabe that got paired up with the Gringo to see how he managed the streets, gave him a weird look as he shoved the phone into the pocket of his jeans.

“Who was that?” the burly man asked, voice rough, and Mickey rolled his eyes.

“Your girlfriend,” he answered dryly. “Wanted to know if I had dropped your ass in the grave yet so we can go fuck in peace.”

The idiot looked like he actually believed it, and Mickey snorted.

“A fuckin’ contact, okay?” he revealed. “And none of your fuckin’ business ‘til you manage to climb the ladder past ‘basic bitch errand boy’, so get the shit and let’s get movin’.”

At least the moron followed instructions.

Mickey wiped a hand over his face while the other man’s back was turned, gathering himself. It was confirmed, then. First by those weird-ass rainbow shirts, and now by Iggy, who wouldn’t lie to him about something like that. Ian Gallagher had gotten himself in trouble, and Mickey wasn’t there to save him this time.

He sighed as his partner came back with the rest of the goods, and they set off to a new position on the next corner.

One way or another, it looked like Mickey Milkovich was going back to Chicago.

[waywardimpalawriter]

hi! i really love your writing, and was really hoping you could do another dean winchester x f! plus size reader. possibly were they are best friends and she is pining for someone else. so before she can make her move on someone else he stops her and confess his love for her. idk maybe some angst/fluff/smut?? you don’t have to if u don’t want to, it’s totally up to you. like no pressure at all! but seriously, i do really love all your writing and i wanted to say thank you for everything u write and do!! <3 once again no pressure at all with this ask, but overall thank you!!<3

Just one good reason

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Female Reader

SPN mixed Bingo Square: Hurt/Comfort Square

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester,

Setting: mid season 11

Rating: E (explicit), NSFW, 18+ only please

Warnings: angst, smut, yearning, grumpy and sweet Dean (yes they need a warning),

Word count: 12,805 (Truly Was suppose to be this long. I blame Dean for this.)

Summary: He’s given a million reasons, damaged goods, blood on his hands, nightmares, scared in so many ways. But most of all that he’s not good enough. Just when you’re ready to walk out that door he gives you one good reason to stay.

Notes: Thank you Anon for this request, I love writing for Dean so very much and to add a plus size gal in as well that just makes my day. I do hope you’ll enjoy this story. The song “Million Reasons” both version’s by Lady Gaga and Briana Buckmaster are inspiration for this story.

Tag list: Is open for all character’s and series I write for.

@spnmixedbingo

Dean Winchester list: @akshi8278

Just one good reason list: @chickensarentcheap

@impala1967dwinchester, @lilacprincessofrecovery, @superavengerpotterstar @jbbarnesgirl @sofreddie  @slightlyobsessedwithissues  

Ancient hinges creak wearily, firm hand pushing to hold open the heavy door letting you and Sam pass by. Fatigued sigh leaves slightly chapped lips, “It’s good to be home.” Taking the stairs down two at a time, tossing duffle bags towards the war table.

“Going soft on us old man?” Teasing quip tugging a smile from your lips as you drop down into the nearest chair. “Getting use to having that soft bed under your ass now huh?”

Scoffing, whiskey flecked green eyes settling on your plush frame, “Woman you forget we’re the same age first off.” Playfully stocking towards you, hands placed on the back of your chair to cage you in. “Second damn right that bed is magical, memory form baby, it remembers me,” poking your side, giggle leaving your lips body squirming in the seat.

“Stop,” pleading tone entering your voice, trying to evaded his questing hands trailing along your curvy sides. “Please,” puppy eyes begging for mercy, his hands aren’t willing to give. Though you can’t bring yourself to care seeing the weight, even for a moment, disappear from his countenance. Or the fact your sides aren’t the ticklish spot on your body, moving in the seat purely for show.

“Say your sorry for calling me old,” brow lifting watching you squirm under his hands. Wishing and not for the first time, he could have your soft body slotted against his harder frame. Knowing how well you fit just in a different way, one that hasn’t been enough for a long time.

Giggles burst from your lips, hands flat against the hard plains of his chest tugging on the dark blue t-shirt to distract from his plans. Pushing him away which had as much of an effect as a toy bulldozer did against a real brick wall. “Okay, okay I’m sorry, promise I’m sorry,” gasping for breath giving a hard tap to his shoulder.

“Now who’s giving up too soon?” Hands pause as his eyes catch yours for a long moment. Smiling face beaming up at him, heart beating triple time and not from assaulting you with his hands. Unable to resist the urge to touch your soft skin. Callused fingers come up to barely graze just under your left eye carefully capturing the eyelash on the tip of his forefinger from your cheek, “Make a wish.”

Leaning forward to place your lips close to the offered digit, eyes closed to blow a cold stream, eyelash fluttering away unseen. Keeping your libs lowered for a bit longer torn between what you truly desire and what’s within your grasp. Whiskey roughened voice breaking through your thoughts, sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine.

“What you wish for?” Swallowing hard, beloved eyes flutter open to ensnare his in there depths. Catching something simmering just below but disappears quicker than a jack rabbit running from a coyote.

Clearing yours throat, “Can’t tell ya Deano won’t come true if I do.” Giving a smile, pressing him backwards to raise and grab your duffle bag. Cell phone signaling an incoming text message making you pull the the black case wrapped piece of tech out of your front jeans pocket. Bright smile pulling your lips higher seeing just who’s messaged you. “Catch y’all later.”

“Someone good?” Sam speaks for the first time since coming home. Watching the scene between his brother and best friend. Wanting to strangle the both of you for not seeing what’s right in front of you.

Head snapping up from buried in your phone to stare wide eyed at Sam, “Yes, no I mean it’s nothing but could be something.”

“Will again?” Peripheral catching the dark scowl pass over Dean’s features before disappearing behind a mask of indifference.

Humming sweetly, sparkle lighting your eyes that go back to your phone for a moment. “He’s asking if we can meet up tomorrow for lunch, trying to choose where to eat.”

“What about,” clearing his throat to unclog the emotions choking off the air to breath. “That little diner in town? It’s your favorite and serves the best pie aside yours of course.”

Trapping and tugging your bottom lip between nibbling teeth, head shaking in the negative. “Nope he’s not fond of greasy foods.”

‘Plus that’s our spot,’ unbridled thought slides into your mind and you want to look over at Dean to remind him. But push those thoughts aside with a wave, heading towards the bedrooms carefully making sure not to bump into a wall while responding.

Green eyes follow till you round the corner, heart catching in his throat cursing himself for mentioning your diner. Knowing better yet wanting confirmation without asking if the spot is still special.

“You’re an idiot Dean,” shaggy brown head shaking as he to snaps up his duffle bag to head towards his room. “The foundation is already there start building before it cracks.”

“Thanks Riddler, just cause I’m Batman doesn’t mean you have to be so fucking vague.” Left with his thoughts and the growing feeling he’s loosing you to another man. Dean leaves his stuff lay where it landed glancing over the chair you vacated not five minutes ago then heading towards the kitchen. In need of something harder than beer but settling for the dark brew being the only alcohol in the bunker.

Opening the fridge door, grabbing a brew his fingers brush against the clear plastic container holding a single slice of pecan pie. Eyes unseeing, drifting back into memories when the Mark of Cain still burned into his skin.

2015

Charlie’s dead, beaten, murdered and left in a pool of her own blood. Every time his eyes close she’s there, expressionless sea green eyes staring blankly into his own. Never hearing her snarky retorts, sassy ways or those hugs she gave. Staring into cold brown sludge, hands gripping the mug a little too tightly. Not sure why he chose to come here of all places. When he could’ve started out on his hunt for the Styne’s. Deep down though he knows the reason right as the little bell signals someone’s entered the small family owned diner. Knowing exactly who and trying to ready himself for your present.

Never ready for how your soft fingers brush along his temple, settling on his shoulder for a moment while you slide into the worn pleather covered booth. Trailing those gentle fingers down his black and grey plaid covered arm. Tugging one hand from around the ceramic cup to intertwine your fingers. Head coming to rest on his shoulder, no words just comfort in a time when he needs it most.

“You shouldn’t be here,” dark with hints of gravel and kissed with pain in the tone. Whiskey flicked green obits focus, for the first time on something besides the cup in his hands, landing on the top of your head.

Shrugging, “Where else should I be Dean?” Looking up at him sorrowful eyes meeting right when your other palm comes up to brush moisture from his cheek. Unnoticed tears sliding down cool cheeks, “You’re my best friend there’s no place I’d rather be then right here helping you.”

“You could get killed,” the very through twists his heart till almost bursting. Brings bile to rise in the back of his throat, slithering through his system to settle unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach. It’s one thing to loose Charlie a heavy casualty. But you, Dean isn’t sure he’d come back from the dark path he’d follow for vengeance.

Soft sad smile turns your lips barely upward, “Not gonna happen I have my knight in shining Impala to keep me safe.”

“I couldn’t keep Charlie safe how can I…”

Shaking your head, finger placed over his kissable lips, “You’ve given me a million reasons already Dean Winchester and I don’t believe a single one of them.” Resting your foreheads together a moment, tenderness skating across your veins for the man beside you, “You might not believe it but your a good man.”

Pie filled plate slides across scared formica table top, metal fork clattering against the ceramic pushed in front. “More coffee,” sweet feminine voice floats from beside you.

Nodding, “Please, sugar and cream too.” Giving her a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes feeling Dean stir beside you.

“Black like my soul you know that sweetheart,” slightly chapped lips brush your cheek. A simple thank you for this act of kindness he feels undeserving of. If he hadn’t already been head over heels in love with you this sweet gesture would’ve sealed the deal.

Breathless gasp parts your lips as you turn finding Dean closer almost invading your space. Leather, motor oil and Irish Spring tickle your nose, eyes locking with those agony drenched obits, making another gasp exist your lungs. Heartache rocketing through your body, colliding with anger directed at the Styne’s.

“Eat your pie Winchester we’ll talk about that soul of yours later after dealing with the Styne’s.”

Heart freezing at the mention of the murdering family, “No,” rougher than intended, Dean grabs your chin twisting your face towards his. Rage hot and potent flaring through those beautiful greens. “No you will stay with Sam I’ll deal with them myself…”

“Dean you can’t be serious…” grabbing his wrist, pleading in your eyes for him to listen. Loosing Charlie splintered your heart, counting her as the sister you’ve never had. Her blood demanding revenge for the grievous act. But loosing Dean would kill you, knowing you never would come back from that agony.

“I am, deadly so. You try and sneak along I’ll toss that sexy ass outta Baby faster than you can pray to Castiel.”

Snorting, pulling your chin from his grasp, “You couldn’t lift me Winchester and you can’t stop me…” but the look he gives you does. Any farther flow of words halt in there bid to tumble out of your mouth.

“No I can’t,” callused palms cup your cheeks keeping you in place. Searching your eyes and making sure you understood, “I don’t want you to come with me Y/N. If there’s anytime to listen its now. I’ve lost one sister I didn’t want.” Bitting those words out to keep from speaking the others which threaten to pour from his being. “I can’t loose you,” resting your foreheads together again.

Nodding, trying to keep yourself from rubbing your cheek into his palm or worse press your lips against his. Lying to yourself isn’t something you normally do and you wouldn’t start now with the realization you were in love with your best friend and worried your going to loose him to the all consuming darkness.

You're giving me a million reasons to let you go

You're giving me a million reasons to quit the show

You're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

Present

Downing the last of his long neck, drawing patterns over the hardwood table underneath with the condensation from the bottle. Eyes trained on that single slice of pie you’d bought him weeks ago.

“I wouldn’t eat that if I were you D,” mirth filled voice floats towards him before you reach his side in body.

Hand coming into view grabbing for the container to toss it out. But Dean’s quicker, “If you value your life, you’ll unhand my pie,” thick fingers circle your wrist pulling your plush body down beside him. “It’s not nice to steal a man’s pie woman,” keeping his tone light, playful and away from the looming fate he knows will visit upon his person once you figure out Will is the man you truly want. Deserving of your light, and laughter, the sweetness, of your beauty that Dean only hopes the other man will appreciate.

Gasping in mock outrage, “Who me?” Hand to heart trying to keep the laughter from your tone. “I would never deprive you of pie Deano. But I would that slice since I think it’s become a science experiment.”

Narrowing his eyes towards the offending sweet dessert, “It is not.” Poking twice before pulling the pie forward for a closer inspection. Musical laughter meeting his ears, smothering the smirk threatening to bloom over his lips. “Okay so maybe your right,” turning his pouting face towards you.

“Course I am,” giving him a wink then standing to toss the ruined sweets out. Pausing by the panty, you peek in unaware Dean’s watching you from his seat.

Teasing sway to your generous hips has his eyes tracking every movement. Bitting the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning at how temping you look. Thick thighs encased in blue denim jeans feet bare from wearing those steal toed Dr. Martins during hunts. Body stretching upwards, soft cotton baby blue tank top riding up to bare a silver of delicate skin to his eyes. Your fingers barely snag the sugar container’s edge, pulling it down to clasp against your ample chest.

Chastising himself for the erotic thoughts flipping through his mind on a single film reel. “What exactly are you doing sweetheart?” Carefully keeping his lower half away from your line of sight. Lest you find out the problem currently tenting his jeans, teeth gritting to stop himself from acting on all those thoughts.

“Never you mind Dean Winchester,” tossing over your shoulder, checking for vanilla extract, light syrup, and butter from the fridge. Last stop the freezer mentally trying to remember if you there's a pie shell left or would need to make one. Hoping for at least a single, since checking the flour stock and coming up almost empty. “Start a list for me please and put flour on it,” setting the three ingredients in your hands down. Turning back to open the metal door to peer into the freeze, swaying slighting to a song running through your head. A triumphant “Yes,” exists your lips, a little dance of excitement upon finding the last shell.

Damn near swallowing his tongue so entranced by your movements gulping different words back down to keep from making a total fool of himself. As he utters, “Not till I know exactly what your making over there Betty Crocker.”

“Resorting to blackmail now?” Brow arched, unconsciously licking your lips slowly. Unaware of Dean watching the path it takes across your pump bottom lip, tucking it between indenting teeth.

For distraction purposes, Dean pulls his phone from the front pocket of his jeans. Bringing up the list app a suggestion to simplify things you gave him months back. Forcing himself to focus on the small screen in his hands instead of the woman currently dancing around the kitchen. Pulling bowls, pots and pans out, one chance glance has an inaudible groan vibrating through his chest at the sight of your plush ass. Bent over shifting through sheet pans knowing which you look for as arousal flares to life so potent Dean turns quickly hiding his reacting. Planting his face in the palms of his hands, elbows bent to catch the weight. Fingers digging into eye sockets to use the pain and banish the thoughts from reappearing.

Frowning at his actions you come over after putting the pan on the counter. Fingers running through his hair, scraping the scalp with short nails. Pleased smile at the groan you pull from his lips as he rubs his head into your palm like a little puppy. “Something wrong Dean?” Worry dancing through the cadence of your voice other hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

“Fine,” head popping up, forcing your fingers to slide out of his hair. Taking a chance to glance up into your worried eyes. Underserving of your soft touch searing his skin. An itch to run from our presence skitters across his veins. “I’m fine sweetheart just tired.”

Searching his face, those whiskey flecked green eyes so unlike the blue-greens of Will’s, catching something hiding in those deep depths he’s trying to hide. Never fooled by words, always inspecting his actions and those little tells partially concealed though you know them all too well. “You’re covering something up Winchester I’ll get it out of you one way or another,” patting his cheek and stepping away.

‘I don’t want you to go on that date,’ on the tip of his tongue poised to leave his lips he keeps smashed together burying those feelings to not ruin this chance you have at an apple pie life. The very thought tears his heart, rendering another hole in the punched out organ. Though it’s his own fault for giving you a million reasons to keep that boundary line in place. Tip toeing almost across a few times, but always toeing the line keeping himself in check. Head snapping around when something hard hits the back of his head, scowl in place though it’s more playful than menacing. “Did you just…” glancing towards the floor to find a lone pecan on the ground behind him. Head tilted to the side, eyes narrowed on your face, which is the total opposite of his holding a sweetly innocent look concealing the trouble he knows you’ll cause. “Seriously a pecan? That could’ve done damage Babe Ruth.”

Eyes rolling, snort issuing from your up turned lips, “I don’t know what you speak of Dean I’m just here making a pie minding my own business. Can’t help it if a pecan has it out for you.”

“Possessed it must be,” voice pitched in a poor imitation of Master Yoda, getting a boo hiss from your general direction. “Though something tells me a certain someone threw the poor helpless nut.”

Shrugging, face neutral a picture of indifference with hands on your wide hips ingredients spread out over the counter. “Stop calling yourself names Dean it’s not nice.” Bottom lip trapped for a second to keep from giggling at the way he’s looking towards you.

Enjoying this moment of normalcy you’ve managed to capture in these dark and dangerous times. Thoughts skittering towards Will, if he’s able to put up with the hunters life style? Former Marine, Will knows so little of what truly goes bump in the night making you worry he wouldn’t feel at ease. It’s the reason you’ve hesitated each time he’s asked you out. Not wanting to drag someone else into a life of blood and death. Persistence and patience paid off when you finally agreed on a dinner date for tomorrow night. One your actually looking forward to.

But then you glance towards Dean, seeing the smile grace those soft looking lips, shinning in his whiskey flecked green orbs for the first time in months and you hesitate. Would you want to leave this life for a man who wouldn’t understand you not fully anyway? Or stay and remain the best friend till a hunt takes one of you out? Could you truly leave your home with the Winchesters, with Dean?

His voice breaks through the your thoughts, ruthful chuckle echoing through the room, “Haha sweetheart stop trying to be John Candy it ain’t workin for ya,” bending to scoop up the tossed nut a memory filters through his mind. Opening a wound he thought long since closed over soaked in whiskey and women who’s names he’s forgotten. Shaking the thought away to ask, “You gonna chunk a nut at your boyfriend tomorrow night too? Or is that reserved for me?”

Not sure why he’s even asking or teasing you about it or the fact there’s a bite to the tone. He shouldn’t care about a simple date, yet the thought twists his gut smile slipping from his lips as he looks down at the pecan in hand. Unwillingly letting those images fill and play before his eyes.

If I had a highway, I would run for the hills

If you could find a dry way, I'd forever be still

But you're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

December 2011

Run down two room shack a nicer way of putting it truly, you think while pulling up outside next to Baby’s sleek black side. Hands gripping the steer wheel till knuckles hurt and you can focus again through the haze of tears spilling down your cold cheeks. Still trying to grasp the fact Bobby Singer legendary hunter, go to lore man, and surrogate father, dead by a bullet from Dick Roman’s gun. Itching for vengeance you try to quell for another time when you can let all the anger out. For right now you knew he needed you more than any strategy planning or revenge thought.

Remembering Sam’s voice shaking, laced with pain, peppered with rage but above all coated in sadness you could hear over the phone lines. Never hesitating to drop the case — for now — breaking speed limit in the need to reunite with your boys. You’d do anything for family even those who weren’t by blood. Learning a long time ago that family doesn’t end with the DNA flowing through your veins.

Shaking those thoughts from your mind and existing the car only to lean back in and grab the bags from the passenger side. Standing to full height to peer over the top locking eyes with those anger clouded greens. “No I didn’t bring you anything Winchester so don’t bother asking.” Trying to lighten the situation with poorly used humor.

Words fail to leave thinned lips as you pass by, hand holding the creaking barely held together door open for you. Following behind his voice scratchy from no use, “Sam call you?”

“Of course silly why wouldn’t he?” Placing the bags on what could pass for a pile of rubble instead of an island countertop. Turning to face him cataloging each feature, the stone set of his jaw, shoulders tight with tension, eyes those beautiful normally vibrate whiskey flecked greens mute with anguish he tries to hide.

Shrugging, shoulders dropping forward with no will to keep them up, “He shouldn’t have your needed else where Y/N.”

“Bullshit Winchester,” moving with purpose to stand in his personal space. “Bobby was just as much a father to me as to you. There’s no other place I’d rather be than here, for a different reason yes but I’m not leaving so suck it up buttercup.”

Catching the flash of anger tinging the deep greens whether directed at you or himself you’re not sure. “We already salted and burned his body, there’s no reason for you to stay.” Turning away from your softening eyes knowing your going to try and reason with him. Make him see he’s not responsible for what happened.

“I know,” two simple words make him pause and turn back. “I didn’t come to say goodbye to Bobby, I came for you.” Taking one step closer arms wrapping around his slumped shoulders bringing him into the shelter of your embrace. Steady hands running the length of his stiff back, imparting your warm, trying to give comfort knowing he’s unaccepting of such sympathies.

Brows furrowing, frown tipping his lips downward, fists clinching at his sides, Dean tries to keep himself from giving into the solace he so easily could find in your embrace. Warmth sinking into his skin through the layers of clothing he wears, tingling his skin, quickening his pulse.“Why?”

“You need me, your not listening to Sam or Castiel talking about going off to track Roman down yourself,” spitting the Leviathan’s name out like chewed to long gum. Head resting against his strong chest feeling the slightly erratic beat of his heart against your ear.

Back stiffening, “I don’t need you to tell me what to do Y/N I can make that decision on my own.” Low growl rattling through his chest as he pulls from your arms and steps from the warmth evaporating from his body. “You should leave.”

“And get yourself killed?” Hands slamming to your wide hips glaring daggers at your best friend. “What happened wasn’t your fault Dean. Any one of us could’ve taken that bullet, Bobby knew the risks of the mission, accepted them and died…” swallowing the tears threatening to slip from your eyes. “A hero,” ignoring his last words, reaching out to try and take his hand only to have him pull away like you’ve burned him.

“Don’t, don’t try to reason this with me I know better,” turning his back to head for the wall covered in papers trying to figure out just what Dick Roman’s up too.

Shaking your head knowing he’s hurting but not wanting to voice those feelings, to make him appear weak. With a sigh leaving your frowning lips you move silently beside him looking over the wall of weird trying to piece together how everything connects. Brushing your hand against his, pinkie trailing to catch what you think is his forefinger. Wrapping the little finger tightly around his you lean over, “I’m right here when you’re ready Dean, I’m not leaving nor letting go.”

“You should,” not bothering to turn and face you. Memories of Lisa and Ben filter through his thoughts along with Bobby, his father and what he can remember of his mother. “I’m poison and get everyone around me killed.” He doesn’t want to add you to the growing list. Rather wanting you to leave and find a different path for your life.

Tugging on his finger to wrap the middle and forefinger with your ring and pinkie fingers, “Then Sam and I are the antidote to your poison.” Giving a soft sad smile to his side profile, wrapping him up into your arms. Resting your head on his shoulder, voice a gentle whisper of breath upon his cheek and neck,“Those reasons keep tallying up Winchester we’ll hit a million before long.”

Reminding you both of a long ago discussion between the two of you in Bobby’s junk yard while still teenagers. Before angels and demons, vampires thought long dead and ancient Leviathan brought back from the pit of purgatory. When you made the packed to never fall for each other and always remain best friends. To never let go no matter how dire the situation, you’d have each other’s back.

Evaporating memories of long ago, you speak softly still resting your head on his shoulder. “You work on this mosaic of papers you have plastered over the walls. I have a pie to bake,” not giving it much thought you quickly press a kiss to his stubbled cheek then turn to head back towards the passable kitchen area.

Tingles dance over his skin for longer than he wishes, wanting to suppress those feelings bubbling up to try and consume him. Thinking he could bury them under the mounting pain and self hated. Yet, the warmth of your arms, soft press of your lips, your words register and sink into his brain Dean turns to watch you work unable stop a few of those feelings from dancing around his heart. Single thought shocking him in its stark contradiction to his current state of mind, Dean Winchester self proclaimed ladies man has fallen in love with his best friend. A sucker punch to the gut making him gasp and reel that silent declaration in. Stuffing it under the right full emotions of anger and pain. Letting them tap dance through his veins instead, something much safer for the both of them. Something he could understand and deal with.

I bow down to pray

I try to make the worst seem better

Lord, show me the way

To cut through all his worn out leather

I've got a hundred million reasons to walk away

But, baby, I just need one good one to stay

Head stuck in a cycle, I look off and I stare

It's like that I've stopped breathing, but completely aware

'Cause you're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

Present

“He’s not my boyfriend yet Dean,” eyes rolling as you turn to melt the butter in a small sauce pan. Though there is a part of you wishing he could one day fill the role unless a single good reason can change your mind comes your way.

“But you want him too?” Words muttered through presses together teeth. Hating the fact he’s letting something so trivial effect him in such a way. You’ve had other boyfriends, one night stands he’s had to sit through yet this one feels different. As if he could truly loose you this time and those thoughts scare the shit outta him the most. Because yes you’re his best friend for longer than he can remember but above that you’re the woman who gets him, argues with him, sets his ass straight when he’s being stupid and above all or so he hopes, loves him warts and all.

Hands pause at his question looking into the melting golden liquid bubbling silently remembering to flick the tiny knob and turn the heat off. While your head screams to say yes but it’s a little small voice beating quickly beneath your ribcage making you pause. Clearing your throat to gather what thoughts you could from their scattered places. You’ve always spoke with honesty to Dean, unless circumstances dictated other wise, and you weren’t about to change now. Through you wouldn’t turn to face him when you did wanting to keep from seeing his eyes. Finding the reason for his questions in those green depths you’ve fallen for though never spoken the feelings. “Yes, he could…” swallowing to coat your dry throat to spit out the words rotting your stomach. “I could have a chance at happiness with Will, Dean. Why do you even ask?”

“I don’t want to loose you,” ‘Because I love you,’ on the tip of his tongue to tell you, give voice and life to his true feelings. Wanting you to stay and forget about those million other reasons he’s let slip between the cracks in your relationship.

Frozen in place, hands gripping the countertop beside the stove. “You wouldn’t loose me Dean I’d still go on hunts with you, I’d stick around,” lies tasting bitter on your tongue, heart beating triple time wondering if he’ll pick up on the dishonesty your speaking. Always feeling he’d never see you as anything other than his best friend. Never the type of woman to draw his attention, too soft and plush in places most men wouldn’t want and you didn’t pine for a man who’s given you a million reasons to walk away. So you shoved those feelings, the love you held back trying to make it work with other men. To find the one who’d surpass Dean destroying your feelings for the green eyed hunter, giving you the one reason to stay and belong. So why now did he have to put doubts in your mind? Why ask these questions when in years past he’d brush other men away as nothing more than a passing fancy?

Silently Dean stands slowly making his way towards you, taking in the ridged stance of your plush form. Hands itch to wrap around your thick waist and haul you against his chest. Pausing right beside you, brushing his fingers against yours too hook what he thinks is your forefinger with his pinkie. “You and I both know things wouldn’t stay the same between us sweetheart. He’d find a way to take you away from me,” praying you won’t pull away Dean turns to stare at your profile. Taking in the beauty he’s catalogued thousands of times, the curve of your lips when you smile, slope of your nose, eyes bright with laughter or spiting fire when angry usually at him. Softness of your cheeks under his palms the times he’s actually got to cup and caress the skin.

“We’ll remain best friends Dean that’ll never change,” gathering the courage to turn and look into his eyes. Catching the sadness coating those beloved greens making your heart ache. Tongue slipping out to tug back your bottom lip between your teeth indented them to keep from asking the question your heart demands.

Of its own accord Dean’s free hand comes up to brush over your cheek, cupping the soft skin, fingers spread from apple to jaw wanting so badly to draw you in and kiss those tempting lips. “I want you happy Y/N and if it’s possible out of this life, been wanting that for you since Bobby,” sliding his hand to your chin to pinch the end with his thumb and forefinger tipping your face up to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’ll miss you sweetheart.”

Eyes lock with stormy greens after he pulls back, soft gasp parting your lips at the simple touch, words sounding like a goodbye instead of their usual see ya later. Grappling for words to say, questions to ask, trying to figure out what’s going on, and why now. But he’s gone before your brain can catch up with your mouth, and your turning to rush after, seeing his back disappear around the corner.

Feet finally responding to command as you quickly follow stopping at the doorway, “Give me one good reason.” Praying he’ll listen and stop, hoping it’s not too late. “Stop giving me all these reasons to leave.”

Back ridged but his mind a flurry of thoughts and answers, more questions than he could shake a stick at. Only one reason comes to mind, “Good reason to what?”

Traveling the short distance to take his hand intertwining your fingers with his, needing him to turn around and look at you. Needing the connection while stating, “Give me a good reason to stay Dean to not go tomorrow night.”

“I can’t,” partly wanting to flinch from your touch, to tug his hand free, and partly wanting to sink into your familiar embrace. Soak in the peace he always finds in your arms, to bath in your warmth and possibly bask in your love. But Dean wouldn’t be selfish he’d let you go even if it meant killing his own heart and soul.

The urge to punch him grows strong but your refrain from using violence, “Why not? Too scared? Or you just don’t care?”

The warmth of your hand disappears from searing into his palm, tingling those long nimble fingers, his eyes close knowing you’re walking away because of that millionth reason. Till the first brush of soft fingers tender in there touch upon his cheek. He gives in to the urge and rubs his slightly stubbled cheek into your palm. “If that’s you Sam, I’m gonna kick your ass dude,” ignoring your questions in favor of basking in your touch instead. Hearing the soft giggle from your lips brings a smile to his own. Eyes finally opening too stare into yours, almost doing a doubt take at what he sees in those beloved depths. “I don’t deserve you Y/N.”

“Stop giving me a million reasons Dean and give me the one that’ll make me stay,” imploring him with your touch, fingers tracing over his cheeks and jaw. Tracing his plush bottom lip with the pad of your thumb, “I just need one good reason.”

He’d find the situation funny if it’s anyone else standing in front asking the same question. Even Sam would get a chuckle from his lips, but you, his breath freezes, heart thumping wildly in equal measures of terror and excitement. The very thoughts running unrestrained in his mind scare the shit out of him, but only one truly feels right. Snaking an arm around your thick waist pulling you against his strong chest, fitting like missing puzzle pieces. His free hand coming up to cup your cheek, “I love you.”

Tears slip from their ducts barely held back till those three simple words spill from his mouth jump starting your heart and sending your emotions swirling. Warm palms cradle your wet cheeks, gun callused thumbs brush hot tears away, you spy the worry and fear your non response sparks. “Do you mean it?” Wanting clarification before handing your heart over to the very man who’s held it for so long.

Knowing what your asking Dean stops waiting and lowers his mouth to yours. That first touch of lips electricity shoots through you veins. Body responding quicker with arms going around his neck to pull him firmly against you not a wisp of space between your bodies. Fingers tangling in the short hairs at the back of his head while you slot your lips against his. Demanding and deep, a tangled dance of tongues. Clashing of teeth, a melding mouths and finding the right angles to draw those delicious moans from each of you. Till air becomes necessary and you break apart panting, “That answer your question sweetheart?”

“No,” smirking when his eyes narrow, “I wanna hear it again.”

No hesitation in speaking those three words, “I love you.” Groaning when your lips smash back to his. Stealing breath from his lungs and a moan from his chest, Dean walks you backward till your pressed against the cool tile wall. Lower pelvis holding your soft body in place so his hands can dance over your cotton covered plush form. Palm’s flat against your thick waist, slowly dragging them around and down to cup your generous ass. Squeezing firmly and making you gasp.

Using the opening as a way to work his tongue back into your mouth, delving in for another taste of your sweetness. Low groan existing when rearranging his mouth to fit differently and snag a gulp of air. Stubble abrading your chin in the most spectacular of ways. Pooling heat low in your belly and making your mind wander in other more salacious directions. Brought back from teetering on the deliciously desirable edge by a sharp bite, his teeth nabbing your bottom lip to tug, letting go with a wet pop. Breath fanning out over your heated cheeks. Eyes once closed now open and locked with yours a pleading undertone to the desire darkened greens.

Knowing what he wants to hear and unable to wait along, “I love you too Dean.” Heart bursting with unrestrained joy flooding your system and making you love drunk.

“Thank fucking God,” groaning, resting your foreheads together still trying to reign in the wild thumping of his heart. Your admission only serves to make the largest muscle spasm quicker. All his pent up emotions, desires and needs flowing to the surface, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from rushing into something too fast. Remembering it’s still fresh and new between the two of you a different path to the relationship already established in friendship.

Giggling softly, you cup both his cheeks, thumbs brushing along his skin, three days worth of stubble abrading your palms. “So,” teasing smirk pulling at your lips, “I better call Will huh?”

“For?” Trying to keep the bitter growl from escaping and giving away his feelings on the sore subject. Tugging your soft body back in place from your wiggles to side free, not ready to let you go just yet.

Sliding one hand down his chest to rest where you know his anti-possession tattoo resides. Tracing the edges with the tip of your finger over the black t-shirt he’s wearing, locking eyes with his, “Seems I’m a taken woman. Wouldn’t want to lead the poor guy on now would I?” Watching how those whiskey flecked greens darken, pushing his lower body deeper into your plush form. Barely heard as you try not to give away the whimper of need his body produces in your own, with his pressed so tightly. Cool concrete keeping you body temp from over heating for the moment.

“No,” clearing his throat leaning in to draw his nose over your jawline. Touring towards your ear, catching the lobe between his front teeth to tug. Low desire filled growl leaving his lips, followed by, “Tomorrow is another day sweetheart and right now you’ve got better things to do.”

Heading tipping over granting access to the parts of your neck he wants, trying to keep the shiver from rolling over your body. Heat flooding your veins sparking a need you’ve never felt with any of the other men you’d previously had relations with. “What,” licking your parched lips, “what better things Dean?” Praying it’s the same idea rolling around your head for the longest time.

Pausing in his mapping of your neck and shoulder with his lips, Dean raises his head to spear you with a heated look. “Me for starters sweetheart, that is of course…” uneasiness has him trailing off the first time in his life. The bitter taste of uncertainty coating his thoughts for a fraction of a second before your lips land back on his.

Teasingly soft presses, little ghost touches of your tongue, playfully dotting his cheeks, chin and forehead with your lips before brushing close to his ear. “Hey Dean,” smiling against his skin, tenderly pressing your lips just south of his ear. Nibbling the found patch of sensitive skin behind committing the spot to memory for later. Breath puffing out quicker feeling him shiver, knowing what the next words would invoke in Dean and his love for the movie. “You big stud. Take me to bed or lose me forever,” sultry tone added to the cadence.

His eyes close for a moment, heart swelling as you recite the words to one of his favorite movies. Marveling at the fact you’ve remembered the lines perfectly and Dean falls deeper in love with you if that’s possible.

The gentle caresses of your lips against his skin setting fire to his nerve endings, room in his jeans becoming a hot commodity as his shaft thickens and throbs. Finding the distraction almost too much while trying to recall the next line. Teasing giggles reach his ears that he replies to with a deep chuckle. Words coming back to him, “Show me the way home, honey.”

Reaching down to tug one hand from your ass, chuckling with a shake of your head when it doesn’t budge but squeezes the generous globe. Notching himself tighter into your body, smirk appearing as your eyes widen, gasp issuing from parted lips. Bitting the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling before the words can escape. “Is that a pickle in your pocket or you just happy to see me?”

“Oh sweetheart it’s a great big dill I can show ya,” flashing a smirk, both of you trying hard not to laugh.

“Preferably,” deep voice tinged with slight offense but liberally coated in amusement. “In your own room so the both of you aren’t bare ass naked in the hallway bumping like bunnies,” having rounded the corner towards the kitchen and catching the intimate embrace. “A vision I don’t want branded into my skull thank you very much,” Sam paused arms crossed in annoyance. Golden dotted green eyes dancing with mirth, catching the playfully scandalous expression cross your features. Glancing towards Dean who buries his face in your neck getting a deep chuckle from his brother.

Try as you might to keep from busting out laughing they just rolled out of your mouth as your eyes lock with Sam’s. Acting stoic but the smile tugging at his lips and the teasing flash through his eyes speak a different story. Only thing holding you up is Dean’s body still pressed heavily against your. The man in question glancing up first to look at you then over his shoulder towards Sam. “Don’t even start Sammy,” grumbling good-naturedly giving him a middle finger salute and the opening you need to slip from between his hard body and the wall. Teasing growl rumbling through his chest at the loss of your warmth. Dean reaches out to snag your arm but you manage to dance out of his reach, giggles echoing off the walls trailing behind your disappearing form.

“Wouldn’t dream of it Dean but Cas owes me fifty bucks,” patent Sam Winchester smirk sliding over his lips. Brow raised at his scoff, “Can’t believe I had a betting pot going?”

Watching you run off happy grin tipping his mouth upward, he looks back at Sam grin still in place. “Just can’t believe it’s with Cas. Rowena maybe, Jody, Claire, Alex and Donna fuck yes but Cas,” incredulous look stealing over his features for a few moments.

“Who say’s the bet’s not bigger than you think,” broad shoulders shrugging same smirk in place, Sam enters the kitchen on that note leaving Dean to stare wide eyed after his baby brother. “Matter of time, always just a matter of time,” laughter tinged voice exists the kitchen, unseen shake of his head at the mess left behind.

Stock still for a fraction of a second till soft giggles echo quietly down the hall, grin turning into full blown smile. Need rushing back through his veins in remembrance of your position just a few short moments ago. Low curse existing his mouth, Dean turns racing off to find which room you’re hiding in.

Nerves tingled through your body, worry interrupting thoughts/memories of short minutes ago. Hard press of his body against yours, warm moist breath fanning out over your skin sending tingles of a different kind to skitter across your veins. But now standing in Dean’s room trying to figure out where to lay or stand that would invoke images of sensuality. You look down at your bare feet toes wiggling against cold concrete. Up wards to thick jeans clad thighs, a baby blue tank top covering your torso, self consciousness went out the window decades ago. After the first serious injuries you suffered at the hands of a vengeful spirit had you damn near stripped naked in front of Dean. Confidence in face of adversity knowing he’s the only one for miles around to patch you up.

Now though is different, same confidence but wishing for sexier clothing something to entice and tease. Small snort issues from the depths of your body knowing damn well you had nothing of the sort in your possession. Flannels, tank tops, t-shirts and jeans hunter’s required staples along with the functional under garments you groan at remembering are mismatched at the present.

“Beautiful even in those rumpled clothing,” deep voice breaking through thoughts and making a squeak sound as you quickly turn to face the lazily leaning against the door jam hunter. Arms crossed over muscular chest, biceps straining the black t-shirt’s sleeves, “I meant what I said before Sammy interrupted us.”

Tugging your bottom lip back under indented top teeth turning to face him fully, “Which part?” Barely keeping the mirth from bubbling over, “That I should show you the way home or you have a big dill?” Easy going banter calming your nerves even the part about feeling ill-prepared clothing wise.

Tender infused whiskey fleck green eyes turn molten with each sweep of your body. “I love you,” words escape as eyes stay locked, Dean pushing away from the doorway. Booted foot catching the hardwood door and slamming it shut behind him. Stocking towards you as a lion would his prey, licking parched lips wanting to devour you. Hands fisting at his side though to keep from reaching out and doing just that incase it’s something your not ready for.

His breath froze upon seeing you walking around his room, something akin to relief floods his veins along with a sense of rightness. Sure you’ve come in hundreds of times to wake him from a nightmare or mornings, to barrow music and to talk. Yet, this time feels different giving your relationship changed moments ago. Catching the indecision clearly written in those beloved eyes that don’t focus on one place too long. For a moment Dean wishes he could read your thoughts but then having hunted and lived together for decades he picked up the situation and cues without having to know your thoughts.

Pleased hum breaks Dean from the wondering trail his thoughts took him on to spy the sweet smile gracing your lips. Hands positioned on your hips one cocked to the side as you stand there waiting expectedly. Restraining himself, Dean opens his palms to bring them up and cup your cheeks dragging you against him. Lips meeting in the tenderest of kisses that he keeps in place while speaking, “You want this, want me?”

Recognizing his vulnerability and what he’s asking with those simple words, arms wrap around his back fisting the shirt tightly to press the two of you together. Love saturated eyes burn into those greens you could drown in, “That’s my question Winchester stop stealing my lines.” Flattening one palm to slide up and into his hair. Pressing another kiss to his soft lips you’ve only imaged kissing till now. The reality so much better than any fantasy you ever came up with.

“Calling me a thief now sweetheart?” Using jokes to cover the fact he’s searching for the right words. Flustered and frustration slither through his veins in a combination Dean’s not accustom, words stammering of unintelligible nature tumble from his mouth. The feel of your blunt nails sending pleasurable shivers down his spine.

Nodding, craning your neck back a few inches but keeping your eyes locked, “You stole my lines and my heart Dean so yes that would make you a thief.” Hand sliding over his back now and settling into the back pocket of his jeans, “I also meant what I said back there.” Catching the cocked brow you elaborate, “Take me to bed Dean I’m tired of waiting, I want to know how it feels to have you inside me.”

Soft groan issues from parted lips. Wanting to act on your words so damn badly his body vibrates with barely contained desire. Forehead coming to rest against yours, strong hands sliding too loosely wrap around and caress your neck. “You know I’m not great at relationships. I could seriously fuck things up.”

“I know but then so could I,” any doubts or insecurities evaporating into the ether with every look.

Callused fingers brush over your bare shoulders sending sensual shivers cascading down your body. Rubbing your thighs together for added friction with the heated look Dean’s fixing you with. Boosting your confidence to step back his hands drop to the side as you own pinch at the hem of your tank top. Slowly pulling it from your body, letting it drop with a barely heard whisper.

“Fucking hell sweetheart,” resolve snapping, reaching for your hips and tugging you back against him harder than intended. Lips sealing quickly to swallow the gasp existed parted lips Dean takes advantage of and slips his tongue inside the warm cavern of your mouth.

There’s nothing gentle about this kiss, it’s all teeth and tongues, fighting desperately for dominance. Pulling groans from the depths of Dean’s soul as he pulls whimpers and moans from your own. Till air becomes needed though it doesn’t stop your mouth from trailing a hot path across his stubbled jaw. Nibbling towards that little patch behind his ear to flick the tip of your tongue against. Smirking at the shutter rolling through his body, fingers dancing a rhythm over his shirt covered torso. Hem reached you tug twice to which he nods reaching behind him grasping and pulling the garment off to join yours.

Hands, palms flat immediately going to ghost over his rippling tummy. Muscle covered soften causing all moisture to pool south, clit throbbing almost painfully. Sure you’ve seen him bare chested before this time it’s different. For pleasure instead of patching him up. Drawing desired groans rather than pain filled. “I know Sam would abject but I so wouldn’t mind seeing you walk around shirtless.”

Full belly chuckle leaves Dean’s lips, “Sweetheart don’t talk about other men right now especially not my brother.” Possessive hands landing on your naked plush waist, fingers spanning the distance and gripping the flesh in his palm. Dreams having nothing on the real woman in his palms.

“Just stating facts sir nothing more,” trailing your fingers over the slightly hair roughen skin. Brushing pebbled nipples from the cool air and your proximity. Reserving a gasp when you lean forward to lap with the tip of our tongue and nip at the peaked point. Glancing to lock eyes as you switch and give the same attention to its twin giving the same attention getting a hiss from your actions. Dragging you lips upward to trace his tattoo with kisses.

Molten green eyes drinking in the sight of your lips on his skin, shooting desire straight to his cock. Throbbing need demanding attention no matter how good your soft lips feel against his body. “Baby girl,” groaning at the nip you place, eyes close to compose himself. Flying open as air cool brushes his skin inside of the shared heat of both your bodies. Mesmerized by the way you reach back to unclasp your bra, pushing your lushes breasts out teasing his vision, salivating for a taste of your skin.

He steps forward crowding into your space backing you into the bed till the back of your calves hit the edge. Wrapping his arms around your plush form to brush hands away and do the task himself. Finger tips skimming the edges of both straps till reaching the top at your shoulders and drawing them down. Keeping his eyes locked with yours while pulling the garment from your pliant body tossing it behind him. Eyes flicking down on a groan, licking his dry lips at the beauty displayed for his ravenous gaze.

“Lay down for me sweetheart,” meeting your lust blown orbs with his own. “I wanna see you in my bed,” biting off a whimper when you drop onto the edge. Bountiful breasts bouncing teasingly as he watches you slide backwards towards the head board. Hands going to the button of your jeans, low growl pausing your nimble fingers. “That’s for me to do baby girl, just,” swallowing harshly as he looks you over. Partially naked spread out over his bed picture perfect memory for those times when the darkness tries to steal this happiness. “Give me a moment to drink you in.” Unable to decide where to look first, “So fucking gorgeous.” Toeing off his boots, hands going to his own jeans your shaking head pausing the movements.

“I get the same pleasure,” licking your lips slowly while raising up on your elbows. Beckoning him with two crooked fingers, hand resting with the palms up beside your plush body, “Get up here before I get impatience and take matters into my own hands.”

Declaration making him pause a moment low growl rumbling from deep with in his chest. As desire blown green meet yours, smirk gracing his handsome features. One knee comes to rest on the mattress Dean leans forward keeping eyes locked while pressing a kiss to your ankle. Grinning, feeling the quiver that runs through your body. “You wouldn’t dare sweetheart,” adding his other knee to spread your legs and slowly fit his body between.

“Shall we make a bet Winchester?” Using your free foot to brushing the nearest thigh with the flat. Sliding towards the very noticeable bulge busting the seams of his jeans, toes teasing the thick ridge before pressing the flat of your foot against him. Rubbing the length slowly pleased when a growl echos the room.

Grabbing that foot tickling the pad enjoying the way you squirm and giggle. Taking the opportunity to move fully between your legs. “About that bet hum,” fingertips drawing an invisible path of fire down the middle your body. Bracing then both arms on either side of your shoulders hovering over you, warm breath fanning out over your cheek he nuzzles with stubbled chin. Pulling a whimper from your gasping lips.

Of there own accord, your hands slide up the strength of his arms and biceps to clasping fingers together around the back of his neck. Left leg draped over his waist to pull him against your pelvis, breathless moan parting your lips at the contact of his hard length pressing into your dripping center. “I don’t want slow or gentle Dean,” head tipping back to give access to his questing lips that find your wildly thumping pulse, sucking a mark into the soft skin. “We have all night for that I just…” words caught upon seeing whiskey flecked green eyes dilated almost pitch with desire. Cheshire Cat grin tugging kiss swollen lips upward.

“Just what sweetheart?” Humming, brushing your lips together before returning to his last spot. One hand dragging over your soft body cupping the generous globe massaging gently feeling the nipple peak against his palm. Teasingly circling the stiff nub with the tip of his index finger before giving a sharp pinch and making you gasp out. Back arching at the pleasurable pain skittering across your veins.

Grasping what’s left of your mind to try and form coherent words, body responding instead pressing your chest into his large hand. Nails score down his back, one completing the journey to give his ass a tight squeeze. As the other detours to between your intimately pressed body. Happy to find enough space to slot your palm against his erection, cupping his throbbing length and giving short little strokes. Smile blooming with a breathless groan against your collarbone where Dean’s forehead currently rests. Nimble fingers pop the small metal disk, pulling the zipper tab down to slip the hand inside. Warmth enveloping palm feeling him twitch has you slowly licking your lips at the mire thought of getting to taste him.

“You’re killing me Y/N,” rutting his hips into your hand, mouth coming back to claim yours in a punishingly bruising kill. Tangling your tongues together, nipping a little harder on your bottom lip than meaning to but the accompanying moan flows straight to his cock. Making him twitch against your palm that has slowed with the distraction of the kiss.

Breaking for air, panting while trying to form and speak the right words, “We’re both a little over dressed Dean.” Pulling your hand from the tight confines of his jeans, using the one at his ass to help pull them and his boxers down only stopping when you couldn’t reach anything passed his knees. Sigh of relief exists his parted lips making you giggle and press a kiss to his chin. “Feel better?” Bottom lip trapped and nibbled on as your fingers brush his length. Finding your fingers barely wrap around the girth while to stroke, palm sliding over precum leaking head. Hips thrust forward at the sensations tingling down his back gathering low in his belly.

“Now who’s over dressed?” Mumbling the words against your skin. Dean regretfully brushes your hand aside grinning at the annoyed huff that leaves your lips. “Ah sweetheart put that sexy pout away you’ll get a chance to taste me soon enough. Cause if you keep using that soft hand on my cock I’ll cum faster than I want.”

His words presenting so many thoughts to run through your mind only cut off when wet warm heat engulfs your right nipple. Tongue flicking quickly over taut peak, blunt teeth nipping then soothing over with the tip of his tongue. Switching to the twin leaving both sloppy wet and tight, gleaming in the low light of his room. Worshipping at the temple of your body with kisses pressed into your tummy, running scared callused hands over your skin in silent reverence. Eyes taking in very inch Dean sits back on his knees between your parted legs. Tracing his knuckles along the seam of your jeans covered cunt, making you jolt against him.

Pausing to strip your jeans and panties from your body, tossing them and kicking his own off to land somewhere on the floor. Raising up on elbows to finally get a chance to look at him in all his naked glory. Tracing each divot of scars over a broad chest, passing over the middle to admire thick bowed legs spread wide. Lips licked slowly upon landing on his ridge cock, slightly curved and resting against his lower belly. Palm itching for a touch, mouth watering for that taste. “You’re beautiful Dean,” words whispered so low your unsure if he’s really heard them.

Heat blooms over his cheeks at your admission, looking your fill of his adonis body. Dean returns the admiration. Tracing the features of your beloved face, staring a little too long at your heaving breasts, soft tummy he wants to nibble on at some point. Thick thighs he can’t wait to have wrapped around his waist once he’s buried deep inside your wet heat. The very though has his eyes dropping between your parted legs, glistening folds beckoning him forward. Caught in that tempting trance, Dean slides back between your legs. Brushing his lips just above your mound and receiving a whimper from you. Locking eyes, “I think you got that backwards sweetheart, it’s you who’s beautiful.” Dipping to run the thick flat of his tongue through your folds, humming at the tangy sweetness exploding over his taste buds.

Hips cantering against his mouth, your own letting a deep moan free as one hand slides down to card through his short brown locks. Tugging the strands getting a groan to vibrate against your cunt while his talented tongue dances through your soaked folds. Torturing your clit with ghosted touches, one arm wraps around our thigh spreading you open. As the other slips a finger inside your wet channel, finding you squeezing and tight, garnering a deep groan of arousal from the man between your lips.

“Dean,” voice wrecked and he’s barely touched you. When he doesn’t answer or budge from his sensual assault on your cunt. Lips having formed a perfect O around your clit, tongue flicking kitten licks to the tiny nerve filled nub. Pleased with he whimpers and whines that filter through his desire filled mind.

Resulting in you tugging on his hair harder, back arching as a small shock rocks through your body, tingling your belly when he bites carefully on your clit. “Dean please,” eyes rolling back into your head at the added second finger. Crooked and pressing into the little spongy spot you’ve never had anyone touch. Ripping a half scream from the hidden depths of your soul.

Smug smirk tugging over slick wet lips, stubbled chin coming to rest just above your mound. Watching as you heave a breath, breasts catching his eyes for a moment till you tug again. Fingers anything but still as they thrust and scissor you open, working you carefully to fit his slightly above average length not wanting to hurt you. “Yes sweetheart?” Licking his lips from your slick.

Free hand coming up to cover your heated face, “Don’t sound so smug,” gasping the last word when his thumb brushes over your clit making you jump and wither. Heat spreading from that special spot in your belly, where the tight coil starts to wind higher. Thick thighs tremble with each sensation Dean draws out of you. “Need you, please, please.”

Caressing your quivering walls with the gun callused pads of his fingers, massaging your clit as you plead. Breath chocked out on another moan, chest heavy, heat coating your skin as you wither under him. “Ah but I can’t help myself sweetheart you don’t know what seeing you like this does to me.”

Gathering what little strength you have in your limbs to reach down and cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing over the skin under his eyes. “Why don’t you get up here and show me Dean?” Voice wreaked yet a tender undertone rides through the cadence.

Pressing a single kiss to the pulsing little clit, giving once last flick making your squirm and Dean to chuckle. Slowly pulling his fingers out, stroking twice more your hips chasing the indescribable ecstasy winding its way through your veins. Only to have the tingles dance slower, the coil start to unwind as frustrated huff leaving your gasping lips.

Taking advantage to plunder your mouth, greedy for a sample of the wet cavern and a tongue tango that draws out a sharp moan of need. Especially tasting your tangy sweetness from his lips, sucking the bottom between your teeth to nibble. While reaching blindly over to the nightstand, damn near yanking the whole draw on the ground in his haste. “Give me a sec woman,” huffing out he rolls slightly off you. The noise drawing a giggle out causing him too stiffen, glancing back with a playful glare to refocus on finding his prize.

Using the opportunity to nose the thick column of his neck, taking in the scent of whiskey, leather and motor oil, peppered now with sex and sweat. Addicting and unable to help yourself from sink your teeth into his skin gently but hard enough to leave a small soon to purple mark. Soothing over with the flat of your tongue catching sight of the pause your actions caused. The aroused moan that leaves his lips, head resting on the bed to try and gather himself from your onslaught.

“Something wrong Dean?” Nipping just below his jaw, tracing your fingers along his side. Index finger swirling through the spares, crisp hairs leading a path to what you’ve craved to have inside you for a long time. Nimble fingers surround the base forming a perfect circle that can’t close but tightens. Stroking his length teasingly slow. In return receiving a warning growl — the sound devastating your senses making you throb — from the man currently fishing for a condom and growing frustrated when his fingers come up empty. “Shall I stop my love? Am I distracting you?” Whispered words breathed into his ear, lips kissing the shell. Knowing damn well just how tormenting you are to his senes and body. If his twitching cock your hand currently wrapping around stroking and the shallow breaths are any indication.

“Ha,” triumphant shout of accomplishment, Dean rolls back over you pressing bodies together and into the mattress. “Now where were we?” Flashing that teasing smirk with a hard rutting of his hips against your dripping core and tight fisted hand.

“What to you so long stud?” Biting back the giggles when he fixes you with a scowl.

Breath hissing out through clinched teeth when taking your hand off his cock, bringing those wickedly wonderful fingers to his lips and sucking on each one with a short nibble. Placing the open condom pack in your palm, “Do the honors sweetheart.”

Curling your fingers around the little foil packet, pressing your other hand into the back of his neck drawing Dean in for a tender kiss. Slow meld of your lips, light sips of your warm mouths. Tenderly tugging his bottom lip, to slide your tongue over the bruised skin and into his mouth. Licking and touring the heated cavern, seeking out ways to make his moan and grunt. A moment of forgetfulness while mapping his tonsils and sucking on his tongue, till you break for air. Chasing his mouth for more kisses only to receive a chuckle instead.

Eyes open to spear him with a heated look, foil packet crinkling in your hand a remind of your mission. Slipping fingers from his soft hair, to trace over his body, joining its partner between the two of your heaving bodies. Unlocking your eyes to glance down, hand wrapping back around his thick shaft to stroke twice getting a needy moan from the man above you. Before teasingly rolling the condom on paying special attention to the thick pulsing vein on the underside, mouth watering at the thoughts of getting to taste it later.

Dean grasps one of your hips to bring the leg around his waist, opening you up and feeling your soft skin under his palm. Sliding between your bodies to entwine his fingers with your, pumping his cock together. Different sounds, a hiss from Dean and a moan from you exists on shuttering breaths. Eyes reattach both blown with desire and coated in need, you notch the head of his cock at your entrance pressing the heel of your foot into the small of his back to urge him forward.

Teeth clamping to draw blood from your bottom lip but also to keep from screaming out in pleasure as he slowly sinks inside your quivering depths. Reaching up with his other hand to free your bruised lip, brushing the pad of his thumb over the glistening skin. “I wanna hear you sweetheart don’t hold back.”

“What about Sam?” Breath hitching, mouth hanging open on a moan that’s trapped on the edge of a scream when he bottoms out against you. Bodies flush, joined hands now resting above your head where Dean’s placed them.

Leaning in to press open mouth kisses to your lips and neck letting you adjust to his size, the exquisite stretch thumps through your veins the slight sting only heightening the pleasure. “Never mention his name while we’re in bed sweetheart,” snagging the lobe of your ear with his teeth. Pleased when you nod speechless, though not enough, “Words baby girl I wanna hear that prefect voice of yours.”

Swallowing trying to form words to answer, scoring your nails down his back an impatience mewling whimper leaves instead. Using the leg not wrapped around Dean’s waist as leverage to plant and push your hips up against him. Squeezing your walls tightly around his shaft drawing out a grunt from his lips. “Dean…” going to say more but he chooses that moment to pull out till just the crown rested inside your pulsing channel. “Just you…” hips snapping forward to fill you quickly stealing those words into a loud scream of ecstasy.

Starting a hard punishing rhythm, repeatedly waiting till your fixing to speak and either pulling out or trusting home. Always taking away what your going to say. Knowing your trapped between frustration and pleasure, Dean captures your mouth in another deep kiss. While his hips snap against yours, wrapping the other leg around his waist to angle you differently. Pressing your intertwined hands into the pillow beside your head and breaking the bruising kiss to gulp a lung full of air into both your burning lungs.

Feeling your walls start to quiver around his hammering cock, knowing by the pinched look on your countenance, the quivering of your thick thighs clutching at his trim waist. Heels pressing into the small of his back drawing him forward with quickened strokes that he’s shortened from the long deep thrusts. Notching your legs higher on his waist to press forward, curling his pelvis into your core, determined to make you cum first. Wanting to feel you soak his cock, see the looks of pleasure dance across your features.

Sliding his fingers through your soaked folds to find your pearl pulsing, pressing the pad of his thumb circling to make a gasp fly from your lips. Back arching, tingles no longer gentle but tap dancing a rhythm through your veins. Dean’s name a chant from your dry, parched lips, panting to try and fill your starving lungs. Body vibrating on a higher frequency only Dean’s turned in on as with every snap of his hips, brush of his thumb sends your spiraling deeper into euphoria.

Reaching up to wrap your hand around his neck to bring him back down for another kiss. This one sloppy as the thrusts of Dean’s hips, brief touches of lips, wet slide of your tongues across the other. Eyes sliding closed only to snap back open with a pinch to your nipple soothed over my his teasing fingers.

“Keep those beautiful eyes open for me sweetheart and cum for me I know your close. You just gotta let go for me,” resting your foreheads together, gritting his teeth to starve off his own orgasm. The wet clinch almost too much for Dean to handle. Always wondering but never imagining how good this truly would feel.

“Dean,” breathing out his name, a series of moans and whimpers following. Trying to capture his mouth for another kiss that’s broken off when your orgasm slams into you soaking Dean’s cock in your slick. Eyes rolling back his name a screamed prayer from your lips.

Body convulsing in pleasurable all consuming fire, little sparks of light pin prick behind your tightly closed eyes. Moisture breath fans out over your neck where Dean buries his face, lips pressing into your skin. Chasing that high while working you through your orgasm the wet clinch of your walls prove too much to starve off any long. Giving in with a groan of your name rubbed into your skin as he fills the condom. Circling his hips a few more times to drag out the pleasurable spikes racking his frame.

Collapsing into your arms a welcome weight pressing you into the mattress as you both try to capture your breath. He brings your joined hands down starting to untwine them but the shake of your head stops the actions.

“For a few moments longer,” voice hoarse from screaming out your pleasure. Free hand coming up to card through his sweat drenched hair. Brushing the strands back from his forehead and sliding your lips over his. Brief touches, lingering into something deeper. Tender caresses of mouth’s, nibbling, and sucking softly on bruised skin. Dean starts to move getting a whimpered whine from your throat tightening your arms around him.

“Gotta clear you up sweetheart I’m not going anywhere,” reassuring you with another soft kiss while carefully pulling out of your tender depths. Mesmerized by the slick coating your tights and dripping from your convulsing walls. Brushing his fingers over the reddening swollen skin, gasp reaching his ears, eyes flying up to yours. Then flicking across your body seeing the beard burn on your neck and chest, hand prints blooming over your hips. “Did I hurt you?”

Sitting up to cup his cheeks, “No Dean you didn’t hurt me. If you had I would’ve told you.” Leaning in to kiss him tendering, “Better take care of that mess it’ll get awful sticky otherwise,” giving him a bright smile. Watching while he gingerly takes the spent condom off, tying it closed before tossing it into the waste bin by the night stand.

Raising to walk on shaky bowed legs to grab up the wash cloth from the sink. Wetting with warm water he turns back stunned to find you watching him with a grin on your lips. “Like what you see?”

“Hmm no,” seeing the frown you go to finish. “Love Dean, I see the man I love,” frown switching to teasing smirk as he nears the bed.

Nudging you to lay back and spread your legs, tenderly wiping you clean. Dragging the warm cloth over your folds and inner thighs. Tossing it behind him to crawl into bed gathering your pliant plush body against his hard chest. Back pressed into his front, arms wrapped tightly around your thick waist. Placing a kiss to your shoulder, “I love to you Y/N, get some rest I’m far from through with you.”

Soft giggles vibrate into his chest, “Careful you’re getting old baby you sure you’ll have the stamina?” Toying with the fingers tapping against your tummy sending shivers cross your body.

Low growl accompanies the drag of his teeth over your sensitive skin, drawing a moan from your lips. Pressing his hips into your generous ass, “Give me an hour sweetheart and I’ll show you just how much stamina your man has.”

[aliendes]

BTS Reaction to Cock Warming NSFW

gif owner unknown (all gifs on this post are from Google)

BTS reaction to trying cockwarming (M) 18+ NSFW

Warnings: cockwarming (duh?), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), fingering, a little oral?, over stim, dom!tae (oops), squirting, kind of subby JK if you squint. 

A/N: This was self-indulgent. I’m a slut for cockwarming and I can never find enough of it. If you have recommendations send them my way. 🥵🥵🥵 Some of these got long (all of them?) and some were really soft and others were…. Not at all hehe. I enjoyed writing Hoseok and Jimin for the first time, both in very different ways!

If you have a request, send me an ask!

Seokjin would probably be unsure at first, but would be willing to try it if it made you happy. He would want to do it at night when you were both tired and cuddling to fall asleep. He would want you to slowly jack him off to get him hard and would probably whine when you stopped, missing the warmth of your hand, but that’s not the point tonight! You would wear only panties to bed, and he would be naked, as per usual. He would turn you both on your sides so he was spooning you from behind and slide your panties to the side so he could slowly finger you until he felt you were wet enough for him to slip in. You would both gasp at the feeling of his thick cock entering you with little preparation, and he would probably have a hard time staying still. A few minutes would go by of you both adjusting your bodies slightly to find a comfortable position to sleep in, letting out soft moans at the feeling of his cock buried deep inside you.

Eventually you would fall asleep, loving the feeling of Seokjin’s warm length filling you up. Sometime throughout the night, Jin would wake up and wouldn’t be able to take the feeling of your walls around him anymore. “YN?” He would try to rouse you gently, “Love?” His whispers sounded strained as you opened one eye, worrying something was wrong, until you felt his member twitch in your dripping pussy. You let out a moan at the movement.

“Mmm,” Seokjin mumbled, slowly starting to move his hips back and forth, fucking into you slowly, “I can’t take it anymore YN, I have to fuck you.” 

Yoongi was working on something in his studio, distracted by whatever was on his screen. You sat behind him on his small leather couch, enjoying his presence, as you worked on your own laptop. You had been horny all day and had been waiting for him to finish for the last few hours. You were starting to get frustrated, in more ways than one, and decided to do something about it.

“Yoongi,” you whined in a sweet voice, getting up from your spot on the couch and circling his chair. You trailed your fingertips over the back of his exposed neck, bringing goose bumps to the surface of his skin. “Baby,” you whined again, this time catching his attention.

“What’s the matter babe?” He gave you a bored look, lips pursed into that straight smile he liked to give you. You smiled sweetly at him. Making sure there were no wires or cords around you, you swung one leg over his lap and straddled him in his chair. Without missing a beat, he leaned back in the chair causing it to bounce backward with the weight and brought both hands up to rest on your hips. He raised an eyebrow at you as you leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his lips. 

“I want you,” you whispered in his ear, “I can’t wait any longer, I’ve been wet all day.” The whine in your voice was apparent and it made Yoongi chuckle a bit. 

“Dirty girl,” he mumbled, running his hands along your thighs and ass, “just a little longer baby, I promise.”

“Yoongi,” you drew out his name, pulling back to pout at him, making him laugh again, “can I just sit on it? I won't even move, I promise I’ll let you finish.”

His laugh got caught in his throat as he let out a short cough, trying to process what you just said. “Like - like cockwarming?”

“Sure, if that’s what it takes to get you inside me.”

Yoongi looked unsure for a second, before desire flashed in his eyes. Removing one hand from your hips he slid his grey sweats and boxers down a bit, letting his semi-hard length spring out. Your pussy was drooling at the sight of it. “Pants off baby,” he said.

You didn’t need to be told twice. You stood up and unbuttoned your jeans, sliding them and your panties off at the same time. Excitement was bubbling in your stomach at the thought of finally getting to feel him. You tossed your clothes on the couch and by the time you were standing in front of him again he was languidly jerking his now fully hard member. You immediately sank to your knees and licked a stripe up his length from the base to the tip. “YN,” he groaned, head falling back against the chair, “you’re distracting me.”

You smirked and stood back up, straddling him again, one leg on either side of his body. Yoongi held his dick against your entrance as you slowly sank down onto him. Once he was fully sheathed in your warmth, you leaned on his chest, head resting on his shoulder. “You feel amazing,” he mumbled into your hair as he sat forward in his chair to better reach his computer. You moaned at the feeling of his cock moving inside you, but stayed still like you promised. “If you’re a good girl and stay there til I’m finished, maybe I’ll let you cum on this cock.”

Your boyfriend, Hoseok, was a freak, to put it lightly. He was always up for experimenting in the bedroom. You were usually the more timid one of the two of you. That’s why it took him by surprise when you shyly brought up cockwarming during dinner one night. That was a week ago. Now, you both had the day off tomorrow and Hoseok invited you over to stay the night at his place. You both knew tonight you were going to give cockwarming a try and to say you were both excited was a huge understatement. 

Hoseok had picked out a few movies to watch and brought blankets and pillows out to the living room to get cozy. After you had finished your takeout for dinner, you changed into panties and a large t-shirt, Hoseok changing into basketball shorts for easy access.

Once the movie was on, Hoseok situated you so you were both laying on your side, him behind you against the back of the couch. Both your heads were resting on a pile of pillows, a large fluffy blanket draped over the top of you both. You were incredibly comfy and could definitely fall asleep like this.

Throughout the first movie, Hoseok was warming you up by licking and nibbling at your neck and ear, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your clit through your panties. It was slow, almost like a massage, definitely not to get you off, but to make you soaking wet and ready for his cock.

“Ready, baby?” He asked, voice low and hoarse from not using his voice for a while. 

You nodded your head, turning back slightly to place a chaste kiss on his lips. He smiled down at you and moved your panties to the side, slipping two fingers into your glistening cunt. “God baby, you’re dripping all over my hand,” his dirty words only made you grow wetter. You moaned at the feeling of his fingers scissoring you open, prepping you for his cock. Once he felt you were ready, he slipped his shorts down and brought the tip of his dick to your entrance, gathering up your slick for an easy slide. He slid inside you with a practiced ease, both of you groaning at the feeling. He wasn’t lying, you were really wet. You didn’t think this would turn you on this much.

“Good?” He whispered into your ear. The sweetness in his voice contrasting his lewd actions. 

You nodded again, biting your lip to keep the moans from escaping. He was filling you up so well, the feeling of his throbbing cock almost too much for you. You both went back to watching the movie, but neither of you could really focus on the screen, relishing in eachother’s warmth. 

Halfway through the second movie, Hoseok’s hands started to wander, one of them resting on your bare thigh. He was drawing small circles on the skin, heightening your pleasure even more. He adjusted his body slightly behind you and a whine involuntarily slipped out of your mouth. “Yeah?” You could hear the smirk in his tone as the hand on your thigh snaked around your front and dipped into your panties, pointer finger immediately finding your incredibly swollen clit, “Damn baby, did having my cock in you turn you on this much?” 

You nodded, face flushing at his dirty words. “It’s ok,” he kissed your cheek sweetly when his words were anything but, “I’ll fuck this pretty little pussy til you’re screaming.”

He kept his promise that night, that’s for sure.

You and Namjoon had amazing sexual chemistry, it’s one of the reasons your relationship worked so well. You were both open to trying new things and you hardly ever found a kink of the others that you didn’t enjoy. You just meshed well together. So when you asked Namjoon if he would want to try cockwarming he was totally onboard. You had just finished a romp in the sheets and were cuddling in your shared bed, about to fall asleep when you brought it up.

“You want me to just, put it in? And leave it there?” He wasn’t judging, just honestly curious, ready to please you.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s cockwarming,” you giggled, straddling his lap, cock already standing at attention again, “we can just like, lay here I guess?” To be honest, you weren’t sure how you were going to feel about it, but you wanted to at least try it. 

“Ok, are you sore? Do you need me to prep you?” You rolled your eyes, though you very much appreciated the kind nature of your boyfriend.

“I’m fine Joonie,” you murmured as you leaned down and placed a sweet kiss on his lips, “love you.”

“I love you too baby,” he smiled that beautiful dimpled smile you love so much. You smiled at him sweetly as you reached your hand down between your bodies and grabbed his thick length. Namjoon had one of the biggest dicks you’ve ever seen and this man knew how to use it. Just thinking about it made you wet. You lined him up with your entrance and teased your clit a few times with the tip, pulling a low groan from his lips. You smirked as you sank down on his length slowly, relishing in the way he stretched your tight walls. 

“Mmm,” you moaned, sitting straight up, speared on Namjoon’s cock. 

“Now what?” Your sweet boyfriend asked as you leaned down to rest on his firm chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his nose.

“This is it,” you said, pecking his cheeks and forehead, “we can fall asleep like this.”

“Fall asleep?” You chuckled at the wide eyed expression he was giving you, “I don’t think I can last more than 10 minutes like this.” He brought one hand up to push his still sweaty hair off his forehead. 

“Just relax, baby,” you soothed, right in his ear. Your breath was was tickling his ear and it was taking all of his restraint to keep from fucking up into your heat. You placed light kisses right behind his ear and down his neck, loving the soft mewls coming from his mouth. You knew what you were doing was teasing him, but you wanted to drive him crazy. This was no longer about cockwarming for you. The moment he entered you, you knew neither of you would last. 

He growled lowly and cupped both of your ass cheeks in his large hands. “I can’t hold back anymore baby,” you pulled back from his neck to look at him as he pulled back from your clenching pussy and slammed his hips back up into you, “Want me to fill you up again?”

Jimin, your sweet, sweet boyfriend, was actually the one to bring up cockwarming. He had a long day at work, exhausted from all the extra work his boss asked of him today. When he got home he asked if you would take a bath with him, something the two of you did occasionally to relax. You agreed without hesitation, wanting to help Jimin calm down and unwind.

You filled up the tub and added in his favorite bath bomb that smelled like roses and even had some pieces of dried rose petals in it. The water was a pretty pink color when you poured in some champagne scented bubbles, your favorite. Once you were satisfied, you grabbed two big, white fluffy towels and deposited them on the closed toilet seat, awaiting the two of you for after your bath.

“Jimin!” You called downstairs, “Bath is ready!”

“Coming!” You heard him yell. You heard some shuffling in the kitchen and the clink of a dish being set in the stainless steel sink. You quickly undressed yourself, tossing your clothes in the laundry hamper just as Jimin walked in, eyeing your body. He looked tired, but you could still see the lust in his eyes at the sight of your nakedness. “You look incredible, baby,” his voice was soft as he wrapped his arms around your middle and smiled down at you, “thank you.” His plush lips met yours briefly before he was pulling away to shed his own clothes. 

You smiled giddily at him and you climbed over the side of the tub, waiting patiently for him to get in. You leaned over the side of the tub, arms crossed, as you admired the toned body of your boyfriend. He really did have a beautiful body, rock solid abs and thick thighs that you often daydreamed about. “Like what you see?” Your eyes snapped up to his smirking face as he caught you ogling. You blushed slightly before nodding, causing him to playfully shake his head. “Scoot over.”

Jimin climbed over the tub, slotting himself behind you, wrapping both arms around your chest. He leaned back pulling you with him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Let me wash your hair,” you tried to turn around but Jimin’s grasp on you tightened.

“Noooo, please baby, just let me relax,” you giggled at the whine in his voice, turning around slightly to see his eyes closed, face already a good deal more relaxed than before. The crease in his forehead is slowly going away. Jimin let out a heavy sigh before opening his eyes and looking at you lovingly, causing you to smile at him. When you did, you felt something twitch behind your back.

“Jimin!” You gasped, mock offense written on your face, “You’re supposed to be relaxing!”

“I am! I swear! It’s a love boner,” he smirked at you.

You rolled your eyes. “A love boner?”

“Yeah, you know when you love someone so much you get turned on? I swear I don’t want to have sex right now, I’m too tired.” You believed him, you could see how tired he was. 

You rubbed a soothing hand along the top of his thigh and nodded at him, turning back around. After a couple of minutes of laying together, you could feel Jimin’s cock hardening against you. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel aroused at the feeling of his dick on your lower back, so close to your core. “Would you think I was weird if I asked you to cockwarm me?”

You were a little taken aback by the question, but you immediately felt arousal shoot straight to your clit at the thought of having him inside you right now. “Seriously? You want to?” You asked, no judgement in your voice, honestly excited at the possibility. 

“I mean, yeah - i- if it’s not too weird. I think it sounds kind of nice. Might help me relax”

You turned around and were quick to shake your head, “It’s not weird,” you smiled at him, “let’s try it.”

He let out a breath at your optimism, worried you’d say no. You turned around fully in his arms, straddling his lap, his hard member brushing against your slit as you settled yourself on him. You grabbed his cock in your hand and lined him up with your hole, looking him in the eye briefly to get his permission. He nodded once, giving you the go ahead, and you sunk down onto him slowly. You both let out a contented sigh at the feeling. It was a tight fit, not having any prep beforehand, but it felt good, the water helping with the glide. He wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t want to have sex. He really just wanted to feel you, be close to you.

“This feels really nice, YN,” he whispered, head falling back onto the porcelain of the tub, “I love you, kitten.”

“I love you too, Jimin,” you mumbled, leaning your forehead against his shoulder, both arms wrapping around his middle in a bear hug. 

“Mmm,” he murmured into your hair, “thank you.”

“Anything for you, my love.”

You felt another rough slap to your ass cheek, the skin jiggling at the impact. “You’ve been a bad girl, doll,” Taehyung’s deep voice sounded behind you, “do you think you deserve to cum tonight?”

“Yes, sir,” you whined, “please.” 

You and Taehyung had been watching TV on the couch when you decided you were going to tease him by sitting on his lap and grinding into his crotch. You had been horny all night and you knew it would rile him up, which is exactly what you wanted.

“Hmm, I don’t think you do,” he growled, landing another slap to your already read ass, “teasing me, knowing what would happen. You dirty girl.” Tae currently had you nude, both feet planted on the hardwood floor, front bent over the arm of the couch. It was a rather exposing position. You could feel the cool air hitting your dripping pussy, begging to be touched in any way. 

Another slap. You jolted as two of Taehyung’s fingers dragged through your slit, spreading your lips to lewdly display your cunt to him. “So wet,” he drawled, “my doll loves to be punished, doesn’t she?”

“Yes - yes I do, sir!” You yelped as he gently slapped your pussy with his two fingers.

“Then I’m more than happy to punish you,” you heard the sound of a zipper, jeans falling to the ground, “all you had to do was ask.” You gasped at the sudden intrusion of his thick cock into your folds. Without warning Taehyung sheathed his full length inside of you, his long dick hitting your cervix in the best way possible.

“Taehyung!” 

Another slap, “Uh-uh doll. You wanted this,” he said with a false sweetness, “now stay,” he growled darkly.

“Wh-what?” What did he mean, stay?

“You wanted cock so badly, now you’ve got it. What? Not what you wanted?” He slapped your ass again, soothingly rubbing the burning skin after, “Too bad, doll.”

Was he cockwarming? You let out a low moan at the thought. You’ve never tried this before, but you could feel the gush of wetness that surged through your pussy at the idea of sitting here with his long, hard cock stretching your walls for God knows how long. 

“Yeah? You like that? Dirty, dirty girl. Gonna use you as my cocksleeve as I see fit.”

You moaned again at his nasty words. “Please sir, please use me!” You sobbed into the couch. One of his hands snaked around your front, thumb lightly pushing into your swollen, neglected clit. You screamed into the leather at the feeling.

“Can you cum like this?” His words were dripping in lust, you could tell he was gone. He wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer. He’s stayed stark still this entire time. “Cream my cock like this and I’ll fuck you into tomorrow.”

You whined into the couch again at the mere thought of his cock slamming into you over and over again. You concentrated on the feeling of his thumb putting pressure on your bud. He slowly added more pressure, and then released. He continued this pattern, putting heavy pressure on your clit and then removing it completely. It was such a weird feeling of stimulation and it was clouding your mind completely. You could feel the rubber band feeling tightening in your core every time his fingertip would push into your bud. It was too much, the pleasure was searing hot in your pussy as you clenched around his cock, letting the band snap.

“Ah! T-Tae!” You screamed, louder than he expected, causing him to jump slightly. The extra pressure on your g-spot caused your pussy to release all over Taehyung’s cock. The sight below him had his eyes glazing over as he watched you squirt all over him. The way your pussy lips were clenching around his dick sporadically as the liquid squirted onto his abdomen sent him into a frenzy as he pulled his cock out of you until you could just feel the tip, and slammed his hips back into you as hard as he could, “Taehyung!” 

“You are so,” he slammed into you again, “fucking,” and again, “hot, doll.”

Your boyfriend was currently sitting on the couch of your shared apartment, playing Overwatch with Seokjin, his best friend. He had his headset on and was so hyper focused on the TV that he didn’t see you come into the room. Which means he also didn’t see your attire. Or lack thereof. 

You slowly walked around the back of the couch, hand trailing over the soft suede fabric. You had just woken up, it was past midnight and you didn’t know Jungkook had gotten home. He didn’t like to wake you up since he usually got home from his job super late. You were a little upset that his loud yelling had woken you from your dream. Not because it woke you up, per se, but because the dream you were having was an incredible sex dream about the very boyfriend who woke you.

You woke up with a light sheen of sweat on your body, pussy dripping wet and needing to be filled. So, you threw on a silk robe, nothing else, and ventured to find something to fill you up.

As you rounded the couch you stood in front of Jungkook enough that he would notice you, but not enough to block the TV screen from his view. You didn’t want him to get upset with you when you were so horny. You’d save that for a time when you wanted to be punished.

“Hey babe,” he uttered, monotone, still focused on his game, “sorry, did I wake you?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, not offering a response. After a moment Jungkook looked up at you, expecting to find you upset, but instead he was met with a look of pure lust. His eyes widened for a second before Seokjin was yelling in his ear, causing his eyes to snap back to the game. 

Now that he knew you were there, you decided to have a little fun. You let the robe slip from your shoulders, knowing he could see you from the corner of his eye. You walked over to him and sunk to your knees in front of him. He looked at you in shock, confused at your behavior, but not pushing you away. You looked at him for permission and he nodded quickly, making you giggle silently. You pulled his sweatpants and boxers down until they were around his ankles and grabbed his semi-hard cock, smirking to yourself. He was still playing, but his conversation with Jin had abruptly come to a halt. You languidly jerked his cock for a moment before leaning over and letting a glob of saliva fall from your lips onto his red tip. You spread the lubricant around for a moment, looking up to see Jungkook biting into his lip to keep his noises from reaching his friends ears. He looked down at you for just a moment and you held your finger up to your lips, reminding him to be quiet. 

You stood up slowly, turned around so you were facing the TV and grabbed your boyfriend's weeping cock, lining it up with your core, before sitting down on it. You could hear the grunt come from Jungkook behind you, but chose to ignore it as you leaned back into his firm chest. You let out a sigh at the feeling of being filled. This is exactly what you needed. You were still tired enough from sleep that you didn’t need more stimulation than this. The feeling of his cock twitching inside you was enough to satisfy you until he was done playing. 

To say Jungkook was confused was an understatement. Were you really cockwarming him right now? He’s always wanted to try this with you, and actually had a fantasy where you did this while he was playing video games. He thought he was dreaming for a second until you leaned back into him and your signature cherry blossom scent surrounded him. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a second, collecting himself before continuing to play his game. In his fantasy, he would be able to keep himself quiet and play while you sat obediently in his lap. He was going to take advantage of the situation that had quite literally fallen into his lap. 

He continued to play his game, at the end quickly telling Jin that he would see him tomorrow and ripped his headset off, tossing it on the other end of the couch.

“Baby?” He placed both hands on your sides, rubbing soothingly up and down, “Is everything ok?” He was honestly a little worried about you, you weren’t usually this assertive.

“You woke me up from a sex dream,” you uttered, eyes closed, “fix it.”

He chuckled at your admission, kissing up your shoulders and neck. “It better have been about me.” He growled playfully.

“Of course it was. Now fuck me, please.”

“Gladly.”

[intotherumiverse]

American Girl

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Shit this has been in my head for a hot min. I’d like to thank @xetou​ @minruko​ and @koishiguro​ for listening to me spew my bull shit for days on end.The ice cream shop mentioned in the fic is a real ice cream place (which slaps btw) but Brooke isn’t a real person (I just used the name)   Also this is the song I used for the inspiration for the fic. And with that, hope you enjoy <3 ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Reo can speak English in this fic, He’s knowledgeable in some American culture but not all. ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Fluff and crack  ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ: Female Reader  ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1k+

It was on a business trip when Reo saw you. He wasn’t one for the slow, dull, work of his father’s job, but after he turned 20, he was given no other choice. It was in New York he met you. You were minding your own business, getting coffee for some of the other staff that was with him on this godforsaken trip. Your smile and the way you carried yourself drew himself to you. “Who’s that?” Reo couldn’t take his eyes off of you as he whispered to Nagi, one of his associates.

“(Y/n) apparently, she’s one of the people that has applied for the new secretary position. Walking over to where you were standing, he tells Nagi

“Send the others home, I want her.”

“You sure Reo?” Not focusing, he nods. Walking over to where you were standing, Reo suddenly becomes self-conscious of himself. Uncurling his spine, he fixes himself before speaking. But you beat him to the punch.

“How can I help you Mr. Mikage?” Your voice was so alluring to him, the smoky timbers of it leading him like a moth to a flame.  Clearing his throat, he says 

“I’d like to inform you that you have been hired to the company as my… personal assistant.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. You were expecting a job but nothing like this. I mean, New York was all you knew, withdrawing yourself now would have some troubles. 

“Maybe we should get to know each other, you know, business-wise?”

It was Reo’s turn to be shocked, lavender eyes shining in curiosity. “And what do you suggest we do?” The tension was thick in the eyes, electricity forming between the two of you. “Give me your number,” you say in the spur of the moment. You knew it was a bad idea to start falling for your newly formed boss but something about him was so alluring. 

“I’ll text what time you can pick me up.”

“Bold, very very bold Miss (Y/n).”

“What can I say, I was raised here. Bold is in my DNA”

“I quite like it,” pulling a sleek business card out of his pocket, he gives a small smirk

“I look forward to your text, Miss (Y/n)”

And that’s how you ended up staring at your phone for the umpteenth hour. You had always heard of the mysterious Reo Mikage, a boy who never wanted to be a king, but the real deal was far more enticing. He had self-esteem inside that made him glow, you couldn’t place it. Rolling onto your stomach, you pull up his phone number. 

“2 pm Mr.Mikage, I’ll show you, New York, as you’ve never seen before.”

In a matter of minutes, he responds 

“Looking forward to it”

Tomorrow will be a good day.

You looked good. You could tell that from the way Reo’s eyes tracked you walking down the street. The clear desire showing itself through the way he looked at you hungrily. 

“Good morning Mr.Mikage” you smile sweetly at him.

“Good morning to you too Miss (Y/n). I trust you slept well.” 

“Well enough,” you reply. Clasping your hands together, you continue 

“Shall we be off?” 

“I’ll bring the car around.” Stifling a laugh, you giggle at Reo’s obvious oblivion. 

“You’re in New York Mr.Mikage, you don’t bring a car, you walk.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Very much so.” 

“Then it is as you wish.”  Pulling out a phone from one of his pockets, he talks lowly into the phone. After a couple of minutes, he puts it away and smiles. 

“Lead the way Miss (Y/n).”

Reo was never truly speechless in his life. Not until today. He wasn’t expecting to be led into the heart of New York by one of the most beautiful people he’s ever seen. Standing in front of the small shop, he looks over to your glowing face. 

“Are we here?” He asks carefully 

“We are! Welcome to the best ice cream shop in New York, in my opinion. Welcome to Surreal Creamery.”

The small shop didn’t seem like much on the outside. Small, it was easily unnoticeable on the exterior. 

“Are you sure about it, Miss (Y/n)? It doesn’t seem like much.”

Giving the concerned man a sly look, you say nothing as you drag him into the small shop. 

“Hi! Welcome to Surreal Creamery, My name is Brooke and I’ll be your server today! What can I get you?” 

“Can I have a Chocolate Blackout please?” Brooke take note of the order on her iPad 

“And you sir?” 

“I’ll have the Thai Milk Bubble Tea & Vietnamese Iced Coffee Ice Cream please?” 

“Okay that will be 24.15” 

You reach over and pull out your card, ready to pay, with Reo already placing his onto the table.

“Sir you don’t have to pay! I invited you out today, I should pay.” 

There was something in his stare that made you not fight on it longer. Letting him pay, the two of you left, ice creams in hand. 

You take small scoops of ice cream, and Reo does the same. The cars in the background are the only noise.

“This is really good Miss (Y/n).” Reo savors the sweetness of the icy dessert. 

“Told ‘ya so.” 

Walking side by side on the slowly emptying streets of New York. The slow pace of the later afternoon was peaceful to Reo. 

“I had fun Miss (Y/n).” Reo smiles at you, loving how your skin glows in the afternoon sun. It frames your face as if the deities up above were blessing you. 

“I had fun too Mr.Mikage. Maybe we could do this again.” You haven’t felt such an attraction to one man more than you ever had than today. It was like a tugging in your heart and he had the strings. Pulling you closer and closer until the two of you were facing each other. You felt his breath tickle your face, the cloying scent of ice cream caressing your sensitive skin. He traced your jawline, hands strong and undeniably rough, goosebumps rising from where he touched. 

“I know you feel it (Y/n),” Reo mumbles. You notice slightly as Reo drops the formalities that he usually added to your name. “There’s tension between you and me. I know you can feel it too. C’mon princess, can I have a kiss?”

Your stomach dropped. He felt it too, the undeniable something that was in the air. You had no words, feeling dazed and confused. The was only one answer. The one that you both knew was the answer to your questions. 

“Yes.”

Tagging

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[ateezmakemeweep]

line without a hook.

mingi x reader; lovers to strangers au

word count: 13k

angst, fluff (tw: mentions of death)

you could personally never understand one’s desire to run as far away from their hometown as they could.

maybe it’s because you’ve had the privilege of growing up in a beautiful, prosperous place, with cozy winters, amazing festivals and snowfalls on the frozen lake before spring came and melted it away.

maybe it’s because you have fond memories tied back to this picturesque place, shops and restaurants surrounding the lake in a way that almost seemed too magical to really exist.

you’ve met so many different people purely because of that sight, men and women of different cultures and backgrounds always so eager to take in your hometown’s natural beauty.

fortunately for you, the lake ran right through your yard and acted as a place of solace where you could get away from everything in the busy, touristy town.

a place you went when you were feeling happy, sad, angry or when, truthfully, you didn’t know how to feel.

it’s also where you first met your boyfriend, one of the many come and go visitors, who introduced himself as mingi.

except he had walked right through your backyard like he owned the place, a small smile on his handsome face as he took in the sight of the frozen water.

he looked at it with such wonder and fascination, like he’d never seen anything like it before in his life; and you can remember that night, even with how you’re feeling right now, that he looked at you the same way.

it’s the only thing that reminds you, at some point, you two must have really loved each other.

two years ago - december 13th

you were hunched over your desk finishing the last of your final essay, only a page left before you could throw every syllabus away and rejoice at having two months of winter break.

it was a chilly night but you couldn’t help but be outside on the porch, a big warm sweater and fuzzy socks on as you read over your work so far.

you’d gotten used to the sounds of nature, the chirping of birds, pitter patter of animal feet and even the loud, slightly terrifying barks of deer.

but the footsteps crunching on the leaves in your driveway definitely weren’t those of chipmunks or rabbits, your strained neck craning over to see a tall figure walking right past your porch and deep into your backyard.

strangely enough, whether it be the frigid temperatures getting to you or the stress of finishing this paper, you weren’t panicked; the man technically wasn’t even on your property, he was right outside of it along the grass that turned to decking.

so you continued to make revisions and edit your paper silently, your eyes fluttering up ever so often to check on the mysterious, tall figure. his shoulders were broad and his hair was messy, that much you could tell from your spot on the porch.

when five minutes past, then ten, then twenty, and he had still yet to move or realize he was in someone’s yard, you decided to investigate - because one, how long could he really stare at this frozen mass of water and two, your head was pounding from looking at this stupid document.

so without an ounce of fear or hesitation, you wrapped your sweater tighter around your body and made your way down to the man.

your slippers were loose so the last remaining bits of snow were seeping into your socks, a slight grimace on your face when the coldness touched your skin.

the sound of crunching snow caused him to turn around, his lips quirking up into a small smile when you came into view.

it was when you got closer that you saw just how attractive he was, pale skin that glowed, plump lips that were slightly chapped and messy hair that looked even better up close.

he looked different than most locals and tourists around here, many of them pastel wearing men who wouldn’t dare stick an earring in their skin.

but the man in front of you had a completely different vibe, earrings and chains and a gray t-shirt that stretched across his broad chest despite the freezing temperatures tonight.

a few minutes of silence pass, neither him nor you concerned about filling it; it seemed as if he could’ve stared at the lake just as long as you could’ve wondered why the hell he liked it so much.

“aren’t you cold?”

more silence passed and for a second you think maybe he didn’t hear your blurted out question.

but then you discover he did when he looked at you with a smirk, the snow crackling underneath him as he shifts to take in your big sweater and pink slippers.

“no.”

it’s a short and simple response but his voice is somehow incredibly warm, looking at you with a twinge of soft light in his eyes before he opens his mouth again.

“why? are you?”

a confused smile pulls at your lips as you shake your head, looking over his bare (muscular) arms conspicuously.

“no. but i’m not wearing a t-shirt in december.”

he sends a smile your way, his large body turning allowing you to fully take in just how big he is. you feel incredibly small next to him and it should probably make you nervous - a large, stranger unwelcomed in your yard and staring down at you.

but there’s a weird sense of tranquility over both of you in this moment, the moon shining off the frozen lake as his gaze meets yours.

“well that’s a good thing,” he hums, your eyebrow quirking up before he continues. “because i don’t have a jacket to give you.”

a surprised chuckle leaves your mouth that has a smile spreading across your face and he feels his own doing the same at the sight of it.

“what makes you think i’d take a jacket from a stranger?”

his eyebrow raises after a few seconds of pondering the rhetorical question, his large hand suddenly coming between your bodies.

“my name’s mingi. i’m staying a few houses over at my aunt’s for the holidays.”

your lips purse together as you wrack your brain for which neighbor it could possibly be, remembering that the woman who brought you left over lasagna for thanksgiving mentioned her nephew was coming for christmas and new years.

she didn’t mention that her nephew looked like this or that he went onto the property of anyone he pleased.

“i’m y/n,” you say, taking your smaller hand in his cold one before a teasing smiles crosses your face. “and we’re actually standing in my backyard. so thank you for trespassing so politely, mingi.”

his eyes widen as an embarrassed look crosses his face, the small hint of pink on his cheeks just as endearing as it is humorous.

“i- i’m so sorry, oh, my god,” he chuckles out, your cold hands still intertwined. “my aunt said i could take the first road i saw to get to the lake. that there was a better view down here than from her house.”

and you can see in his eyes the exact moment his next sentence came into his mind, like he thought it was gonna be the smoothest and coolest thing he’d ever said.

“and it looks like she was right.”

the loud laugh that bubbles out of you is uncontrollable, mingi’s quickly following as his cheeks turn even more pink.

“sorry, i couldn’t help myself,” he mumbles sheepishly, sounding completely unapologetic as he finally pulls his hand away from yours; you try not to think about how much colder your hand feels now, quickly sticking it in the pocket of your sweater to compensate.

“right,” you quip, a tiny giggle leaving you as you crane your neck to meet his gaze. “but really, you should probably get a jacket if you’re gonna be out here a lot. you don’t wanna get sick and it can get pretty cold here.”

“will do,” he hums, his eyes roaming yours and making your heart jump in your chest; he really is the most attractive person you’ve ever seen.

there’s a few beats of silence as he cranes his neck to look out at the lake, eyes roaming what seems like every piece of frozen ice and snowy tree surrounding it.

“my aunt actually told me people sometimes skate on it.”

“yeah,” you confirm with a nod, taking the time to look at the beauty you take for granted every day. “it’s thick enough this year. sometime we’re not allowed.”

“cool,” he says with a smile, a slight shiver running through him that makes you frown. “so... can i come back here to do that?” he asks, his eyes hopeful and soft as he looks at you. “or should i use the real path?”

your eyebrows pull together at his question, confusion covering your face but only meeting his cocky, playful one.

“are you asking if we can skate together?”

he bites down on his lip so he doesn’t smile larger, his tongue peeking out just before his teeth make contact.

“yeah,” he hums lowly, the deep tone of his voice sending butterflies through your stomach. “i guess i am.”

your lips quirk to the side as you weigh out the pros and cons.

you’re on your own a lot and definitely miss talking to someone.

he’s attractive and funny and seemingly nice enough.

you know his aunt and can easily confirm his story, the chances of him being a murderer who moseyed into town considerably low.

the only con you can think of is falling on your ass in front of him and even that it isn’t such a deal breaker.

so you smile at him and nod your head, a melodic “okay,” leaving your mouth that has him smiling back at you just as sweetly.

present day:

you knew going to this dinner with mingi was gonna end in disaster.

you were both too on edge after your fight this morning, past the point of screaming and yelling for hours that, now, you’ll exchange a few harsh words at each other before falling silent.

you’ve learned that the tense silence after a fight is worse than screaming and yelling.

at least with that, it seems as if there’s still some passion there. there’s words being exchanged and feelings coming to the surface that both people feel motivated enough to express.

but with the silence, you’re both bottling it up.

deeming it useless and letting it brew and brew and brew until one of you goes completely over the edge - and more often than not, that person is him.

the car ride over is no better, not even the radio playing to distract you both from the building tension in the air.

your friends know immediately that something is up, yunho eyeing mingi and san eyeing you; yunho, san, seonghwa, and wooyoung had been your friends since elementary school.

you’d been through a lot with them and have seen each other at all your highs and lows.

throughout your two-year relationship with mingi, him and yunho had grown especially close and it was sweet to see; you knew it was important for mingi to have another friend in a place he didn’t grow up in and you were genuinely happy they created a great friendship.

“hey guys!” wooyoung chirped happily, already chowing down on the chips and salsa in the middle of the table. “how is everyone?”

and like he’s almost oblivious to the tension in the room, mingi only mumbles a grumbled “fine,” before he starts happily babbling again. you try a little harder to put up on a happy front, giving wooyoung a small smile as you talk to him about your last semester of school.

as the dinner goes on, appetizers turning to meals and meals turning to alcohol, mingi downs sangria after sangria before he becomes a lot more chatty.

“oh, shit, there he is,” wooyoung smiles happily, a drunken flush to his face as he pokes his arm playfully. “you were scaring me for a hot second. looking all pissed off and shit.”

“that’s because i was pissed off. still am, if i’m being honest, woo,” mingi says, a conniving hint in his tone as he finishes the last of his drink.

your eyes immediately move to him and you’re quick to narrow them, hoping and praying he doesn’t start round two in this public restaurant right now; but apparently, that’s exactly what he plans on doing.

“what’s with the face, y/n?”

mingi spits your name out like it’s the last thing he wants to say, a quietly snapped “nothing,” leaving your mouth.

san and yunho look to each other immediately, concern on both their faces as they feel the tension start creeping back up.

they knew something was wrong the second you both came in, have known things have been off between you two for months, and it was even more obvious when you immediately took the seats a few spots away from each other.

“nothing?” he asks, his voice deep and gravely due to his anger and the alcohol. “because it sure looks like you wanna say something.”

“i don’t have anything to say to you.”

“you never do, do you, babe?” he asks, his humorless laugh and vindictive tone making your skin prickle.

“did you even miss me?”

your eyes meet his from across the table when he finally speaks, your eyebrow raising as you two stare at each other blankly.

he had left two nights ago after telling you he needed space, not hearing a word from him until he came barreling through the door just a few moments ago at seven a.m.

you’d just gotten up to make yourself coffee, plagued with worry and upset over your fight and his lack of communication.

“maybe if you looked at your phone, you’d know.”

because how could he think you wouldn’t miss him? how could he think you’re actually okay with him leaving after every fight? not hearing from him for a day or two while you stay in this apartment and let your mind go off into every worst case scenario.

a humorless laugh can only leave him as he shakes his head.

“of course you’re putting the blame back on me. i just can’t make you happy, can i, y/n?”

“you staying after a fight would make me happy. but of course, you can’t do that for me, can you?”

he doesn’t say anything and instead just clenches his jaw painfully tight.

you watch it tick dangerously and instead of feeling anger or sadness, you just feel utterly defeated; you don’t know how many times you guys have had this exact conversation.

a fight will happen.

he yells, you cry.

you just want him to see your tears and obvious pain and stop the yelling.

hold you and kiss your hair and mumble that you guys are gonna figure this out and get passed it.

he leaves, you stay silent.

he just wants you to fight for him a little.

call him out on his shit and prove to his insecure self that you still love and care for him, even though he’s a dick. ask him to please stay because he wants to figure this out and get passed it.

but then he comes back and you’re both okay for a bit, just for the cycle to repeat itself over and over.

“is that why you leave, mingi?” you speak again, looking at him curiously as you shake your head. 

“make me sit here and worry about you for days, while you purposely ignore me, just so i can tell you i miss you? is that what you want?”

the words are on the tip of his tongue. that yes, that’s exactly what he wants from you.

but the words are also on the tip of your tongue. that you want his first instinct to be to stay. to stay here and talk things out with you before immediately jumping up to flee.

he wants you to tell him you miss him but you want him to tell you he loves you, that he loves you enough to stay when you guys fight; but right now, neither of you are even sure if that’s true anymore.

“i don’t know about y/n, you guys,” mingi says suddenly at dinner, the drunken slur to his voice evident to everyone. “i love her but sometimes.... i think i actually fucking hate her.”

you feel your heart sink when those words leave his mouth, your face dropping just as the boys call out his name roughly.

“mingi, what the fuck,” san growls from across the table; but the boy is completely unbothered, shrugging his broad shoulders as he looks directly at you.

“how ‘bout you, babe? how do you feel about me?” he asks, leaned back against his chair like he’s completely calm, cool and collected.

“i’m not having this discussion with you right now.”

“you never want to have this discussion,” he mocks, the anger and rage in his eyes only making your blood boil even more. 

“i’m getting tired of it, y/n. i’m getting tired of all this shit.”

his voice is raising and you’re becoming increasingly embarrassed, knowing that the last place for this blowout fight is in front of your friends in a public setting.

“mingi, this really isn’t the place to-”

“shut up, yunho, we’re gonna finally-”

but you’re not intending on doing anything, already feeling humiliated and belittled as you get up from your seat and walk toward the door.

you leave your bag and jacket so the boys know you’re not leaving, hoping and praying that your drunk asshole of a boyfriend follows you outside; and sure enough, two minutes later, you smell his familiar cologne when the door opens.

neither of you say anything for the first few seconds, him leaned against the wall and you facing him with your hands on your hips.

“what’s your problem?”

it’s the first thing you think to ask, looking at him with such concern and defeat in your eyes. 

you hope he can see it but you’re sure he can’t, far too absorbed in whatever he’s been going through for the past few months to notice.

“i don’t have a problem.”

“you obviously do,” you snap, your voice raising as you take a step closer to him.

“you just embarrassed me in front of everyone and you’re acting like a fucking child. we could’ve had this conversation at the house instead of not speaking for days.”

“why? so you could just turn shit around on me or ignore what i’m saying?” he snaps back, raising an eyebrow as he looks down at you. “maybe we need an outside source to listen.”

“not our friends, mingi, and not at a public dinner when you’re getting drunk.”

“you always have an answer for everything, don’t you?” he snaps, his jaw clenching and eyes flaring as he continues to peer down at you.

“and it’s always on me. when we tried to talk this morning, you blew me off, too, y/n. it’s like you don’t ever wanna have this discussion.”

“because i don’t know what you want me to say, mingi. how many times do i have to repeat myself and tell you i don’t know what you want from me?”

“have you ever thought that maybe that’s the fucking problem, y/n? that after all of this, you still don’t know what i want from you? are you fucking stupid?”

“are you fucking stupid?” you yell back, the suppressed anger and rage you knew was brewing boiling over right here and now.

“you want me to tell you that i miss you when you leave every other week, mingi? why would i tell someone that who could give a shit? i could tell you i miss you or that i’ll miss you and you’ll still fucking leave me.”

“how do you know?” he snaps, “you’ve never tried!”

“i’ve never tried?” you yelp, tears of frustration burning your eyes as you look at him.

“what’s me texting you when you leave like a little bitch every single time? or me obviously worrying when you pull that stupid shit over and over? i’ve been trying mingi and you don’t care! you leave me crying alone every single time!”

he meets your gaze with fire in his eyes and you can only stare back with tears in yours, waiting for him to scream something before he decides to kick over the metal garbage can a few feet away from you.

you watch as it clatters against the side walk, a loud, deep “fuck!” leaving him as you watch him blankly. his chest is heaving and you can tell he doesn’t know what to do with himself right now but you also don’t know anymore.

because you’re shaking inside and out and feel like you wanna throw up, knowing that right now you both look like the worst type of couple; but it’s nothing compared to how you feel, how even though you don’t want to, you can’t stop yourself from acting out on these negative feelings.

“and if i never try, mingi, then just leave again,” you say, tears blurring your vision and a lump growing in your throat. “you can stay and come home with me tonight. or you can leave. at this point, i’m too tired to care.”

you weren’t surprised to go home alone that night.

watch as seonghwa and yunho helped your boyfriend to their car and promised that he’d be back in a few days; you were only able to sleep soundly that night because you knew he was safe with them.

but it didn’t stop you from crying yourself to sleep that night, the night after that and the night after that for the next week; the same would’ve probably happened the next night, too, at least for a little bit, had you not heard your front door open just after midnight.

you were getting in one last episode of your drama when mingi returned home, craning your neck back to see him lazily kicking off his shoes at the front door.

his head looked up to meet your gaze, the glow of the tv hitting him just enough to tell you he looked like shit.

he had dark circles under his eyes and his hair was tousled messily, like he hadn’t washed it since you last saw him. his face was sunken and pale as if he’d been away in the wild for months opposed to his friend’s house for just a little over a week.

but when he’s away from you, this is what happens each and every time - he can’t sleep or eat or function properly.

he’s only plagued with the thought of you, memories running through his mind or constantly wondering what you’re doing. if you’re safe and feeling okay or if something bad is gonna happen to you because he’s not there.

the couch dips next to you before you feel his skin graze yours, a quietly mumbled “hey,” like he just came in from work casually spoken through the air.

you crane your neck up at him to look in his sunken eyes, an uncontrollable frown on your face as you swipe your finger across his purple skin.

it’s the softest touch he’s received in a week and he’s missed it more than he cares to admit. shutting his eyes and smiling slightly when he hears you mumble “hi” back.

you bask in each other’s comfort and warmth for the rest of the episode in silence, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm wound tightly around you until the tv screen falls black.

you two walk into bed and he pulls you down with him, your head falling to his chest and his hands in your hair. you moan against him sleepily and it’s a sound he’s missed so dearly, tightening his hold on you as he feels his body immediately relax.

you’re both completely comfortable and at ease, days of worrying finally calmed as you’re beside one another again.

but even with this comfort, even with the familiar feel of each other’s skin and warmth soothing both of you, you know it won’t be enough.

because you still don’t say you missed him and he still doesn’t tell you he loves you.

a year and 11 months ago - january 10th

you weren’t sure if it was possible to fall in love in less than a month but it really felt as if you and mingi did.

from the moment you saw him two days after your initial meeting, skating together and braving the frozen lake together, your connection was immediate.

you’d spent everyday with each other, frolicking through the town in the afternoon before going back to your house at night.

you usually spent it cuddled up on the couch or making food in your kitchen, his arms wrapping around your waist before tossing you up on the counter playfully.

“you didn’t strike me as a chef,” you tell him, watching him stir a pot of noodles with a content look on his face.

“well, i didn’t strike you as a rapper either,” he says, a smirk on his face as a giggle leaves your mouth.

you learned that mingi was an aspiring rapper, him and his friend hongjoong trying to get their foot in the door for the past year. you listened to a few of their songs and even got a live performance from him, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed as you watched him.

in a fit of absolute astonishment, because you didn’t think mingi could get any more attractive, you blurted out that he didn’t seem like a rapper. that his personality was too “cute and charming” despite the deep growl to his raps and voice.

“i told you just personality wise,” you whine with a pout, reaching your hand out to squeeze his arm reassuringly. “but appearance wise, absolutely. you’re very tough. very cool looking. i’m scared of you.”

“you’re making this a lot worse for yourself, baby,” he hums lowly, another giggle leaving your mouth as you bite down on your lip.

“did your friend hear back from that producer yet?” you ask him curiously, your legs criss-crossed as you sit on the counter and peer up at him.

he looks over to see you staring at him all wide-eyed and interested, a soft, happy glint in your gaze that makes his heart pull in his chest.

he hasn’t even known you for a month but he’s never been this happy before.

he’s never had anyone be there for him the way you’ve been, dedicating their time to him and being so actively interested and supportive of his decisions; it also doesn’t help that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever met, both inside and out, that made him extend his trip a week longer.

he couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to you yet and he’s still not sure if he can; he’s grown incredibly attached to you and it’s something he’s never felt before.

something all consuming and magical that’s making him incredibly vulnerable.

“not yet,” he mumbles, his eyes roaming your face.

your eyebrows pull together when you notice the way he’s looking at you, soft and sweet with a fondness that makes your heart flutter dangerously.

“why are you looking at me like that?”

a smile crosses his face as he lowers the heat on the stove, caging your body in and cocking his head to the side. he bites down on his lip when he sees your eyes widen, a large hand coming up to push pieces of hair out of your face.

“because i’m happy i met you.”

a small, touched smile pulls at your lips as you peer up at him, raising your own hand to smooth out the chain around his neck.

your fingers brush against his warm skin and it’s like there’s electricity coursing through both of you, your bodies close and hot breath wafting together.

“i’m happy i met you too, mingi.”

his heart soars at the way you say his name, eyes falling to your lips as he presses himself closer to you. you push yourself against the cabinets, swallowing the lump in your throat when you follow his gaze.

your tongue peeks out to lick over them unconsciously, your own eyes falling to his lips. you feel your stomach swoop dangerously, wanting so badly to feel them on yours - they’re one of the first things you noticed about him.

“y/n?”

“hm?” you hum, your eyes lingering on his mouth before hazily meeting his eyes; and there you see it, the soft intensity you’ve yet to grow used to.

you’ve seen this look from him more times than you can remember despite the short time you’ve known each other.

on the lake when you two were skating, grasping each other’s hands and giggling as you tried to keep yourselves from falling back.

in town when your hands bumped and you’d stop dead in your tracks to look at each other, completely unaware of the people around you giving each other knowing looks.

on the couch when you’d allow your head to rest on his shoulder, cuddling closer to him because the weather is really cold for january and you need body heat.

but it’s never been as strong as it now.

your heart’s never been beating this fast and you haven’t been able to feel his own pounding against his chest. probably because he was nervous to ask-

“can i kiss you?”

neither of you can remember what happened after he uttered those words.

just that one minute, he said it and the next, your mouths were connected. parting on one another’s as he completely caged your body with his.

your arms wound around his neck and he hummed contently against your mouth, slipping his tongue in when you started playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

he had half the mind to turn off the stove before carrying you to the couch, your legs wound tightly around his waist as every hint of desire and want overtook you.

he plopped himself down as you situated yourself on his lap, lips never disconnecting. you moaned against him when you felt his body underneath yours, tongues colliding and mouths pulled into smiles.

his hands gripped onto your hips gently, pulling your body closer to his as your kisses grew hungrier and more intense.

you finally pulled apart for air with heaving chests and red, puffy lips, your eyes meeting and every hint of vulnerability and longing in them.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he finally says softly, almost whispering it in fear that someone else would hear.

but this house is empty. it always is and it has been for quite some time.

until you met him and he completely changed your life.

now there were two pairs of shoes at the door and two empty cups in the sink. there was someone to talk to and someone to be in the silence with.

because you’ve learned over this past month that even a silence with someone else is way better than the silence of being alone.

“me... me too,” you admit shyly, a warm blush creeping up on your face. “i’m... really, really happy you’re here, mingi.”

his eyes widen when he sees tears well up in your eyes, his mouth pulled into a frown as he brings his hands to your face.

but you only shake your head before he can comment on it, placing your hand atop his before connecting your lips again.

he meets the kiss with the fervor you need, everything about it soft and sweet and passionate. like you guys know time is running out and you need to fit it all in.

“that producer got back to me and wants to meet in person so you’ll be home next week, yeah?” hongjoong asked mingi over the phone, the boy laid out on his bed a few days later.

he can only keep replaying the memory of you in his mind, the tone of your voice and the teary look in your eye when you told him how happy you were that he’s been here.

there was a certain type of sadness behind you that he hasn’t been able to shake, making it incredibly hard for him to pick a day to just pack up his car and go.

“i... uh. i don’t know, yet.”

“what?” hongjoong asked.

him and mingi had been waiting to meet producers for months, getting either put on a list or straight up rejected. and now when they have a chance, “you don’t know yet?”

mingi licks over his lips as he hears the disbelief in his friend’s voice, knowing that hongjoong won’t be able to believe this. they’ve been waiting for this moment ever since they were in high school and had the dream of rapping as a duo.

he was only supposed to be here for a few days and now it was almost a month. what could possibly be keeping him there? what could possibly have made mingi-

“what could you possibly not know, mingi? we’ve been waiting for this moment for years. you even extended your trip for a bullshit reason thinking i’d really buy it.”

“okay but my aunt really did need help around the house...” he mumbles because yes, she needed help around the house as she redid her bathroom but she was quick to hire professionals so, technically not a lie.

“so what, what’s your excuse this time? did you meet some chick?”

there’s a silence that stretches over the phone for what feels like hours, mingi attempting to find any words before hongjoong lets out a loud groan.

“a girl? mingi, are you fucking kidding me?”

“i really like her, hongjoong,” mingi tells his friend, a sweet genuineness and innocence in his deep tone. “i really, really like her and i... i don’t think i can leave her yet.”

he reluctantly opens up to hongjoong about you, telling him that you’re in school and live alone in this quiet little lake town. that you and him have been spending every second together and he’s never felt this way about anyone before.

“i’m happy for you, man, i really am,” hongjoong says, never having heard his friend talk like this before. “but i mean... is she worth changing your plans? what the hell is there for you?”

he wants to say that you. you’re there.

the girl he’s known for less than a month but has gotten him so tight around her finger - and once he leaves, will still be here.

except she’ll be within the walls of her house all alone again, in a town based off people coming and going where she’s never seemed to have a stable relationship with anyone.

where she now knows what it’s like to spend every day with someone and look forward to their company every morning and night. spend hours talking until the sun rises and sleep until it’s dark out.

“i wouldn’t be changing my plans that much. i still have our music, hongjoong. we can still do shit even if i live here.”

“live there?!? hongjoong blurts out, “you’ve been there for a less than a month, dude, that’s fucking crazy. you’ve barely know her and you’re gonna move there?”

“i can’t leave her.”

he didn’t think at the time that it was crazy. he didn’t think he’d ever come to regret that decision because, at the time, he really couldn’t imagine leaving you.

he couldn’t picture himself hugging you goodbye and telling you that you’d keep in touch via texting and facetime.

he couldn’t picture going back home with a genuine smile on his face when it felt as if he left behind something, someone, would could make him the happiest he’s ever felt.

he couldn’t picture that he’d ever come to resent you because when he told you he was gonna consider staying in town longer, a bit more permanently, the smile that lit up your face was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“really?” you smile, jumping up from your spot on the couch and running over to him.

you’re so smiley and happy and bouncy until you’re not, your face dropping ever so slightly when you look over his face.

“but wait... what about the producer? did he ever answer?”

“he did. hongjoong’s meeting with him tomorrow.”

your eyes widen at the news but he’s quick to cut you off, bend down and press a long, lingering kiss to your lips before scooping you up into his arms.

“but i told him there was something better for me here.”

present day:

he wasn’t sure when the resentment started.

he just knew that, one minute he loved you, and the next, he started to question everything.

it could’ve been from seeing hongjoong’s success, album after album and talk of him all over social media right in his face every day.

it could’ve been his lack of success, pursuing a music degree via online school while still keeping up with his previously established career as a rapper; it was enough to get the bills paid and keep his name lingering around but that’s all it was now.

it could’ve been that all of his passion was gone and he blamed you for that; because if it weren’t for you, he’d be with hongjoong now. he’d be making money and feeling inspired and at the peak of his creativity and motivation.

but he loves you, right? he loves you more than he’s loved anyone in the world and he made the right decision.

“sometimes i question if i made the right decision.”

it was a relativity quiet night for you and mingi, the past few days calm and uneventful, so you knew a fight was bound to happen soon.

and with that statement, it seemed as if the night was quickly headed in that direction.

“what do you mean?” you ask, looking up from your textbook.

he was sat on the love seat opposite you, computer in his lap and a beer on the side table as he watched you. he’d been wordlessly watching you all night and you hadn’t been sure what to make of it.

now, you can see, he might’ve been watching you with disdain.

“i mean i sometimes wonder if i made the right decision in staying here. just... so quickly not accepting that producer’s offer with hongjoong’s.”

his words hurt you more than you let on, your stomach sinking and knotting as you let his words sink in.

you had asked him for weeks after he made that decision if he was sure.

if something he worked so hard on and something he looked forward to for so long was something was worth giving up.

and anytime you asked, he’d say the same thing.

“you’re worth it.”

you wonder now if he said it so many times to qualm your ever present worries or to convince himself. tell himself over and over again that, yes this girl is worth staying here and no, i won’t come to resent her.

it’s something you worried about in the beginning but faded with time.

because your love grew stronger and you both became more secure. your relationship was the closest thing to perfect you’d ever experienced.

but not now.

now it’s a fucking disaster.  

“where did that even come from?”

you can hear to your own ears how shaky and unsure your voice sounds. it’s filling you with as much shame as it does embarrassment, knowing that you can’t even talk to your own boyfriend openly and honestly.

without feeling upset, like you know you have to walk on eggshells or can’t express how much he’s been hurting you.

“i don’t know, i’ve just been thinking,” he hums, taking a swig of his beer as he adjusts himself on the couch.

you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, only humming lowly as you nod your head.

you lick over your lips as you look back down uncomfortably, blankly staring at the words of your textbook. your brain can’t absorb any of the terms or phrases on the page, the sinking, awful feeling in your stomach taking over.

you can’t even remember how long you’ve felt like this.

when butterflies turned to this gut wrenching, awful feeling.

like the feeling before a plane takes off or you have a presentation to do or when the one person you’ve loved in this world has decided they don’t want you anymore.

“i stayed for you.”

the words you feared hearing pierce the air and you hold back a shaky breath, biting the inside of your cheek so harshly you’re hit with the metallic taste blood.

you look up and see his eyes narrowed in on you, tears burning the back of yours as you beg them not to fall.

because you can’t keep crying in front of him just for him to ignore you. to just watch you lose it with a blank look in his eyes, instead of holding you or attempting to soothe you.

“i couldn’t leave you alone in your house,” he begins, like the words he’s rationalizing in his head are coming out of his mouth uncontrollably.

“i wasn’t ready to leave you yet and i didn’t even think twice about how i would feel in the future. because i was so fucking consumed by you, y/n.”

there’s an obvious and palpable pain in his voice and it makes your gut wrench even more; you hate that he’s in pain but you’re in pain, too. you were in pain before him and now you’re in pain because of him.

“i’m still consumed by you but i feel...angry now. i feel so fucking angry, y/n, and i don’t know why. i don’t know if i’m mad at you or myself but i know i stayed for you. if i never met you, i never would’ve stayed here and now i feel like i’m stuck.”

“but i never asked you to stay, mingi,” you whimper out, the tears quickly coming to the surface.

they’re a mix of sadness and frustration, because it hurts so much hearing this, the obvious regret in his words, but it also makes you mad - that was his choice and his choice alone.

and it’s like he knows that too. because he doesn’t say anything in response, just continues to stare at you with a look in his eye that breaks your heart.

“i asked you so many times if you were okay with doing that,” you begin after moments of silence, your teary, wet gaze meeting his. “i asked you again and again because i knew you’d come to regret it.”

“i’m not saying i regret it, i’m just saying i-”

“you’re saying you stayed here for me like it’s my fault,” you say, shaking your head as tears leak from your eyes and down your cheek. “like i asked you to and like meeting me was your downfall. but i never told you to and i would’ve never ever expected you to.”

“what, so i was just supposed to leave you alone?” mingi growls lowly, emotion behind his tone that’s almost masked by the brashness.

he can’t help but feel all of this coming up, all of these feelings he’s been going through these past months and making him a completely different person.

“why would i have left you when i knew i loved you?”

neither of you focused on loved being past tense, probably because it’s a fact both of you know by now.

“i didn’t want anything else but you in that moment.”

“do you want a prize, mingi?” you snap, every defensive and defeated emotion coursing through your veins.

“you could’ve left me alone. you could’ve just left the way you wished you did so fucking badly. you would’ve saved yourself all of this obvious regret.”

“you think i regret staying with you?” he asks, his voice low and deep as he rises from the chair.

his frame is tall and broad and looming as he walks closer to you, standing over your chair as you sit there and stare up at him. his eyes roam your face and he follows the few tears rolling down your cheeks, his hands stiffly hanging at his sides.

he used to hate seeing you cry.

it used to make him wanna destroy whatever was hurting you. he used to kiss your tears away and wouldn’t let you leave his arms until you were smiling and laughing again.

“well, what do you call this?” you whimper quietly, sniffling and stuffy and feeling small tears stream down your face.

“you basically said if it weren’t for me, you’d be happier with your life. and i... i was so happy when you decided to stay, mingi, i’m not gonna lie to you. i was so happy because i knew we would love each other so much,” you whimper out, the knot in your throat making it difficult to speak.

“but i also knew that one day, you would probably regret it and resent me. it’s why i asked you over and over and over again. because i was so scared this was gonna happen.”

his mouth grows dry as he licks over his lips, a burning behind his eyes as he hears your voice break. he’s quick to shake his head and blink away the tears, though, because he knows if he starts crying, he’s never gonna stop.

“i thought you would leave with me eventually,” he’s finally able to get out, his throat clogged and voice gruff as he voices his innermost thoughts and wishes.

you compromised for him once, why wouldn’t you do it again?

“i thought if you actually loved me the way you claimed to, you’d be able to go.”

“well, i was always honest with you about that too,” you murmur, feeling utterly defeated and guilty as you meet mingi’s glossy eyes. “you know i never intend on leaving.”

a year and 5 months ago - june 19th

he learned about your parents accident on the 4th year anniversary of their death.

he had noticed that week you were especially gloomy, a sad look in your eye and the fake smile on your face making him cling to you just a bit more than usual.

and apparently, you had noticed too.

“mingi, are you okay?”

the words were muffled against his shirt, your face pressed against his chest as the two of you lay on the couch. his hand had been running up and down your back gently all night, like he’d been trying to calm you without any words.

like he knew there was something wrong, even though you hadn’t said a word.

his eyebrows pull together in confusion, placing his fingers under your chin. he lifts your face as his eyes search yours, that sad look behind them masked by a soft curiosity.

you’re trying to hide your pain because you think he’s hurting and that alone only makes him even more sad.

“of course i am, baby. but are you okay?”

you can’t find it in you to say yes so you only nod shyly, a small smile gracing your face as you look at him.

his eyes are full of such warmth and love that it makes tears prick behind your eyes, dropping your gaze quickly as you bury your face back in his chest.

the movement causes him to swallow nervously, adams apple bobbing as he presses his lips to the top of your head.

he knows something’s wrong. he knows something’s very wrong but he doesn’t know what happened or what’s brought this on.

“you can tell me anything,” he mumbles against your hair, his arms wrapped tightly around your body. “you know that, right?”

because he also noticed that you started seeming off when he mentioned moving in together, looking at apartments in town for himself before getting the idea to live with you.

you guys are already together all the time, it only made sense for you two to live together as well.

but he could tell immediately the idea unsettled you, you clutching desperately on to him as you muttered that you’d think about it.

at first, he would’ve assumed you didn’t wanna go that far with him. that it was too serious a commitment and you were completely uncomfortable with that.

but it was the way you were clinging to him, burying your face in his chest like you were begging him not to leave you that made him realize something deeper was going.

it’s why he dropped it at first. looked for apartments on his own with the idea that, best case scenario, you’d move in with him too.

could that be what’s wrong right now? you dealing with moving in with him and fears coming from that? or something else entirely?

he just knows that when he starts to hear you cry quietly into his chest, he needs to know what’s been wrong because he hates seeing you like this.

“hey, hey, hey,” his deep voice mumbles, large hands pulling you from his chest and wiping at your face. “what happened, baby? what’s wrong?”

and since you started crying about this, remembering the day and the circumstances around it so well, you won’t be able to stop. you can only continue to cry into him, tiny sobs wracking your body as you clutched onto him tightly.

“i... i can’t.”

you couldn’t talk, you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t tell him, he wasn’t sure.

that’s why he shook his head and pulled you back into his chest, the warm safe place you’ve come to know so well and usually calmed you whenever you needed.

“i don’t know what’s wrong but i promise you’ll be okay,” you hear him mumble against your head, his hand running up and down your back gently. “i’ll try to help you in any way i can, baby, but i’m gonna need to know what’s wrong.”

but he can’t help you bring back your dead parents.

he can’t help you time travel the way you so desperately wish you could to tell yourself not to go on that senior trip.

that if you didn’t go, your parents never would’ve driven you to the airport and they never would’ve gotten in the car accident that took their life on the way back.

you’d spent a week in a foreign country while they spent a week in the hospital, your aunt and grandparents dealing with the repercussions before you came back and said your goodbyes in a dingy, hospital room.

mingi doesn’t know how long you both sat there in silence, your cries muffled against his chest and his arms wound tightly around you.

he loosened his hold immediately when he felt you try to pull away, watching as you stared at him, wiped your eyes and told him everything.

“my parents died four years ago, today.”

he watches with soft, sympathetic eyes and a breaking heart as you tell him about your guilt.

how if you just decided to stay home after weeks of begging them to go, they’d still be here.

“they didn’t have the money but i begged them for weeks, mingi,” you tell him, tears in your eyes and voice thick with emotion. 

“i wanted to go so badly because all my friends were going and i was too selfish to see they really couldn’t afford it.”

he can tell you’re not done talking so he only presses his lips together and grasps your hand tightly. squeezes it reassuringly as his thumb gently rubs back and forth against your skin.

“they both worked overtime for two weeks straight and gave me the money the last day it was due. and i barely thanked them,” you remember, the scene you’ve replayed in your mind hundreds of times flashing yet again.

you jumped up from the couch and snatched the money from their hands, throwing your arms around them in a quick hug before screaming your thanks and running up to your room to tell your friends.

“a drunk diver hit them on their way home from the airport and the doctors couldn’t believe they both didn’t die on impact. a-and no one in my family could even call me so i said my goodbyes when i got home, in the hospital.”

you look to mingi with tears streaming down your cheeks and you see wetness in his own eyes, his hand grasping onto yours tight.

“i couldn’t even talk to them one last time. or hear their voices. i don’t even know if they heard me.”

your voice breaks off after that, not being able to handle recounting this after years of staying silent about it; he’s the first person you’ve talked to about this besides the counselor you saw a few months after their death.

he pulls you in his lap and wraps his arms tightly around you, rocking you back and forth as he presses his lips to your head.

your eyes are closed tight as you focus on his breathing and soft murmurs. his deep, full voice muttering sweet nothings and quiet reassurances.

that your parents did hear you and they loved you till the end.

that it was no one’s fault but the driver who decided to get in a car after getting drunk.

that you shouldn’t put any blame on yourself, because your parents would want you to be happy and thriving.

“i know but it’s just hard,” you tell him, you teary face pulling away from his wet chest.

you look around the living room full of books and wooden furniture, a family portrait hung above a cluttered-filled desk; it was taken when you were ten and you remember hating that day because you had to wear an uncomfortable dress and tights.

“i don’t know how i’m ever gonna leave this place,” you voice aloud to him, one of the many concerns that muddled your mind when you started deciding on college or jobs or moving in with your perfect boyfriend of almost a year.

“it’s the last thing i have of them. i don’t... i don’t know if i’d be ever to leave this place, mingi.”

not after what happened last time.

not wanting to leave the house you grew up in to strangers who would create more happy memories and replace the ones you made with your own parents.

his face contorts into one of sympathy and pain, his heart breaking as the obvious guilt and dread is in your eyes.

he’d always seen a bit of torment behind them but you were always able to smile.

laugh with him and tease him and push whatever demons he knew you had aside; but he started seeing it again when he mentioned moving in, fear and anxiety and discomfort that he hated to even see behind your eyes.

“i don’t know how that will effect us, it’s something i’ve thought about a lot recently,” you confess quietly, playing with the edge of the blanket nervously. “especially when you mentioned us moving in together. i... i want to, so bad, because i love you and i think it’d be fun. but... i can’t leave.”

your tears start up again and a frown crosses mingi’s face, his body hovering over yours as he takes your face in his big hands.

he wipes at the tears threatening to slide down your cheeks before placing his lips on your head, breathing slowly and calmly against you as his warm breath wafts over you.

“baby, i understand completely, i really do,” he says, everything making sense now but... “but i don’t think your parents would want you to... limit your life like this.”

because you obviously had an interest in seeing the world. you obviously wanted to see different places and cultures and sights in the world that even your precious little town doesn’t hold.

but he can see tonight isn’t the night you’re gonna see that, if the way you shake your head and bury yourself back in his chest doesn’t show that.

and because he loved you more than anything else in the world, he understood it. held you and kissed you and made sure you knew he’d be by your side in whatever way you needed.

it was with his patience and love and unconditional support that you were able to live with him. keep your parents house as a sense of security but slowly move yourself out of it.

leaving a toothbrush at the apartment, a few sets of clothes, some shampoos and soaps until one night, you were waking up and falling asleep with him every morning and night.

present day:

the fight that ended you and mingi was over a trip to disney.

something meant to be so childish and fun and innocent morphing into a blowout, gut-wrenching fight that left the two of distraught.

hit both of you with the realization that whatever you once had had fizzled out and turned so horribly toxic, you were both losing yourselves.

it had started with yunho, san and wooyoung planning the trip, mingi over their house one day after the tension in the apartment got too much. he had scoffed when san mentioned it at first, wondering what business they had as college going twenty-somethings booking a trip to disney.

“it’ll be sweet!” san said, “we could go to the parks for a few days, everyone loves roller coasters! and then we can drive down to the beach, go surfing and go to bars and shit. it’d be so much fun, guys.”

and the more all of them thought about it, the more excited they got. looking at flights and car rentals and getting all their swim suits in order - that was until mingi came back home a day later and informed you of these plans.

“me and the guys were talking about booking a trip to disney,” was the first thing he said to you. not a hello or how are you or sorry for leaving and making you worry for a week.

“oh?” you hummed quietly, looking up from your spot at the kitchen sink; you’d made breakfast for two just in case he came home early but it was another serving of eggs and bacon in the trash.

“yeah, so is that something you’d wanna do?”

there’s something off about his tone that you immediately pick up on. snippy and on edge and defensive, like he’s already fully prepared to break out into a fight.

because he already knows you won’t do it. you won’t leave the 70 mile radius you’ve trapped yourself nor will you even try to go out of your comfort zone for him and you or anyone else.

and quite frankly, he’s grown really fucking sick of it. call him selfish or call him someone looking out for you, someone who knows this type of living isn’t normal, he can’t deal with it anymore.

“i... well i mean...how would we get there? and when?”

“we were looking at flights three weeks from now,” he says, carefully observing your face with slightly cold eyes. carefully waiting for the next hint of a breakdown he’s not gonna properly respond to.

you bite the inside of your cheek as panic starts to stir in your chest.

you haven’t been anywhere since the accident. you’ve gotten yourself so used to this environment that going anywhere else seems terrifying.

but you’ve seen how bad things will happen when you try to venture out. you left to do the same and it cost your parents your life - who’s to say you wouldn’t get your karma soon?

leave mingi without a girlfriend he doesn’t even care about anymore or your grandparents without a granddaughter you can’t help but feel they blame for their child’s death.

tears are quick to prick your eyes as you try to push down all of these feelings, looking down at the floor in a move mingi already knows is dismissive.

you hear him scoff and it sends a flurry of emotions through you, not even needing to lift your head to know he’s shaking his head.

“figures,” he hums lowly, making extra noise as he puts down his bag or plops down on the dining room chair. “i don’t know why i bothered asking.”

“mingi...” you begin breathlessly, guilt and shame and sorrow filling you.

“no, y/n.”

his voice is firm and hard and makes you meet his gaze, the look he’s throwing you icy and completely empty. he’s done and you’re done and there’s basically a ticking time bomb between you two.

“you didn’t even let me give you an answer.”

“because i know what it’s gonna be!” he roars, feeling stupid for getting excited when he knew damn well you wouldn’t be able to leave. “i know you’re gonna make up some bullshit excuse about school or work or money and you’re gonna say no.”

you can’t say anything because you know he’s right. but what he doesn’t know is that you’re trying. you try every day and every week and every month to push yourself out of your comfort zone and it just doesn’t work.

you’ve tried going away with him and you’ve tried expanding your horizons - you’e even moved out of your parents house to live with him. but it’s hard when you’re constantly reminded by the fact that your decisions ended a life.

while it was technically the drunk driver’s fault, your survivors guilt heavily outweighs that. intrusive thought after intrusive thought until you start to question why you’re even still here, too.

“i’m trying, mingi,” you say, your voice shaky and defeated. “i’m trying but you don’t even see that.”

“how are you trying?” he asks, watching your dejected form a few feet away from him. “you haven’t done anything different since you moved in with me. we’ve been living the same life for the past two years, y/n.”

but you just remember how patient he was when you first tried moving in. how he was so patient and kind and gentle and was everything you needed him to be.

but he can just remember how much he loved you. how patient and understanding he was, not fully grasping the severity of what happened to you and how incapable he was of dealing with it.

“i’m... so fucking sick of it. i’ve grown to be so sick of you and i hate that, y/n. i hate feeling like this but it’s the truth.”

“and you don’t think i am?” you blurt out, the dam of tears breaking as you hear him say those specific words to you - i’ve grown to be so sick of you.

your frame is smaller and fragile and you’re like a shell of the person you were when you first met as you make your way up to him, looking over him with all the pain and exhaustion in your eyes.

“you don’t think i’m sick of feeling this way? of seeing how much you obviously hate me and are over this when i can’t stop feeling this way? because i’m sorry it’s been inconveniencing you, mingi, but it’s been ruining me, too. sometimes i can’t even believe i’m still here.”

the last part of your sentence stirs something in him but he can only focus on your broken state. watching as you grow weaker and weaker because of him.

“you haven’t even been helping me,” you suddenly say, words quiet and soft-spoke but filled with an obvious hurt. “i... i don’t know why you’d even wanna go on a trip with me because we’d just fight, mingi. we’d just fight and i’d cry and you’d leave me. th-that’s what we keep doing.”

tears burn the back of his eyes, a knot growing in his stomach so big it feels like he’s about to puke.

“because i don’t know what to do anymore, y/n,” he say, his voice less harsh but still holding a certain degree of bite. “i tried so hard with you and nothing seems to work. i loved you, i still love you, and i was there for you and i tried so hard with you but... i don’t know how to help you.”

“you think yelling is the way? or leaving me is the way?” you laugh out manically, tears rolling down your face that you desperately try to reach out and wipe. “you’re sick of me but i’m sick of you, too. i’m sick of feeling this way and i’m so fucking sick of thinking you still love me.”

“you don’t think i love you?” he asks, rising from his chair and making his way over to you. 

his looming height should make you nervous, the way he’s looking down at you and threatening to trap you against the counter should make you nervous, but it doesn’t.

because coming to terms with this right here is the worst part. the conversation you’ve been avoiding for months and the obvious change in what you two have become.

“i don’t,” you say, finally meeting his gaze and seeing hurt and anger swirl behind them. they used to hold such a sweet softness that would sometimes make you feel better, even if just for a little bit.

“because even if you do, you’re still sick of me, right?”

one year ago:

“what if you get sick of me?”

the newest compromise had been his family coming here to meet you.

you and mingi had booked refundable tickets for a week in his hometown, a part of you wanting to desperately prove you could do something for him. something that would make him happy and maybe prove you love him a little more than you can convey.

but the second you got on the highway to the airport, you knew you weren’t gonna be able to.

memories played through your mind of you in the backseat of your parents car, laughing and talking with them as you promised to be careful and take a lot of pictures with them.

hearing them tell you they loved you and were so happy you were able to go after all.

and then you’d looked to the other side and see in your mind a car hitting the other. spinning out and smacking into the divider as an eruption of fire, car parts and the chaotic screeching of breaks echoed through the air.

mingi had to pull over to calm you down, bring you back to the real world in the form of hugging you close to his body and his hand running through your hair.

“i’m- i’m sorry, mingi, i’m sorry, i-”

“sh, you don’t have to apologize, baby, there’s nothing to apologize for,” he hums against your head, pulling you over the console to rock you gently in his lap.

he was warm and broad and soft spoken and everything about him made you feel safe. you couldn’t grasp at the time how or why he was so understanding and sweet but you didn’t even wanna question it.

because he was the one thing in your life that made you feel okay. that you had him and he had you and there was nothing that could be that bad if you had each other still. 

he didn’t let go of your hand once as pulled onto the highway, got off the exit and made his way back home.

he guided you back into the apartment and told you to go lay down and that he’d be there in a second. 

he cancelled the flight and called his mom, telling her you guys got rained out and that, if it was okay, he’d pay for them to fly out here next week.

the bed dips a few moments later, broad strong arms wrapping around your waist before you’re pulled into his chest.

it was after a few silent minutes stretched between you two, the calming rise and fall of his chest against your back, your small voice pierced the air.

“i’m sorry, mingi.”

he could tell you were gonna cry before you even started, turning you in his arms as he pulled you closer to him.

“baby, i already told you you don’t have to-”

“but i do,” you cut him off, lower lip trembling and stomach knotting guiltily. 

“i... i don’t think this is normal, mingi. i should be able to move on with my life and travel somewhere. i wanted to go so badly and meet your mom but i-” your voice breaks as tears fill your eyes and you try to catch the breath threatening to suffocate you.

“i’m scared i’m gonna be like this forever,” you say quietly, looking up and meeting his soft, sweet gaze. “i’m scared i’m gonna be like this forever and you’re gonna become tired of it.”

“baby... that’s never gonna happen,” he assures you, voice gentle but firm as he runs his fingers through your hair.

“and you’re not gonna be like this forever. we can get you help. and i can help you,” he says, his eyes looking into yours with such a raw honesty and love. “i... don’t really know how but i’ll do whatever it takes.”

“what if it’s not enough?” you ask, because at the time it’s like you knew just how bad this was gonna get. that even with as low as you felt then, it wasn’t even rock bottom.

“what if you get sick of me?”

“i won’t,” he reassures, pressing a long, lingering kiss to your head before settling you onto his chest carefully. “that’ll never happen because i love you, y/n. and i always will.”

present day:

in a turn of events, you were the one who left after that. 

came right to the place you first met, except now the lake isn’t frozen over and the late-afternoon sun had just set.

his words were too harsh and reminded you too much of his broken promises.

you felt too weak and pathetic and completely hopeless, the tense silence so horribly loud between you two you left without a word; and he hadn’t said anything either.

and now, as you sit at the spot you’ve always come to and found solace in, you can feel why he was always so hurt when you didn’t ask him to stay. because even though you were fighting and even though you both hurt each other, you wanted him to ask you to stay.

to please not go because that would’ve been the last possible way for you both to see there was something still there - even though it’s plain to see there isn’t.

too many fights and too many words have been said. too many lapses of silence and too many unspoken thoughts that now when uttered are just hurting both of you.

you’re both too hurt and you both have too many things to sort through that you can’t do together. 

one second you were staring down at the lake, your own broken reflection staring back as your feet hung in the water, and the next you couldn’t see. tears flooded your vision and sobs wracked through your body, loud, ugly, horrific sobs that you’ve been holding back for far too long.

you cry because you know it’s over with him, you know it’s been over for a while, but now it all feels real. 

you cry because you know you need some help to get past all of the guilt you feel, how if you don’t get help, you’re never gonna leave this town and see what else is out there.

you cry because you don’t even know where to start and know, even though it hurts, you have to do it alone.

you’re so lost in your thoughts and the way your cries echo through the yard that you don’t hear footsteps approach you.

you don’t even know anyone’s behind you until someone bends down and pulls you into their broad, warm chest. a chest you know far too well and a body that hasn’t held you like this in what feels like forever.

he knew you’d be here and he couldn’t stop his legs from jumping in the car and coming to see you after you left. half because he knew this had to happen and half because he was far too scared for you to be out here like this.

he knew what conversation was gonna follow but he knew had to hold you one last time. he missed holding you and he missed wiping your tears away.

“i don’t know what happened to us, mingi,” you whimper into his chest, the tears that have been building behind his eyes finally coming to the surface.

he doesn’t know what happened either. he doesn’t know when or where you guys went wrong or when you stopped talking to each other. he doesn’t know when he stopped loving you in such a way that was all consuming, where he knew he’d do anything and everything for you.

“i don’t... i don’t think this is working. i don’t know what to do but i know i can’t do this anymore.”

“i don’t know what happened either, baby,” he mumbles against your head, his words wobbly and wet as he tightens his hold on you. it feels as if every part of is heart is breaking, for the way he’s neglected you and the way your crying against him.

“i’m sorry i can’t help you. i wanted to so fucking badly but now... i just, i can’t, baby.”

you cry harder as you shake your head against him, feeling him plop down and pull you into his arms tighter.

it feels every bit as heartbreaking and upsetting as you both knew it’d be. it’s probably why you guys put it off for so long. because even though you feel the love you used to feel, you both know nothing will change.

he’ll resent you and you’ll resent him right back.

he’ll say he stayed for you and tried to help you and you’ll say you never asked him to do any of it.

you both sit there and cry and hold each other until the sky falls dark and air turns crisp, the moon reflecting off the lake in a way that hasn’t changed in two years.

but everything’s changed between you both and it’s too heartbreakingly obvious.

“i’ll miss you,” you mumbled to him.

because you know he’s gonna go on and do all the great things he’s wanted to. move out of this town and pursue whatever dreams he put off for you, the girl he once loved more than anything.

“i love you,” he confesses quietly against your head. “i really really did love you.”

because he knows he still does, he knows he always will, but it’s not something either of you can bear to hear right now.

you both have said what the other needed to hear and when you guys part tonight, maybe you’ll finally start feeling better. fix yourselves and the damage you’ve caused each other and maybe reunite when the universe deems it right.

two and a half years later:

it had always been your dream to see the northern lights.

something about them had always fascinated you, how they almost didn’t see real or were just a figment of fake editing that would only ever be seen in photos.

but you had an overwhelming need to see them before your very eyes. see the sight before you and marvel in just how truly fascinating and beautiful it was.

so that’s exactly what you did.

you wrote down a list of all the places you wanted to see: the egyptian pyramids, the great wall of china, the taj mahal, the eiffel tower, all of the sights that you knew in order to see, you’d have to leave the perfect little town you loved so much.

it took a lot of attempts, a lot of tears and anxiety and frantic calls to your therapist, but finally, you were able to do it.

it was the third to last place on your 6-month journey around the world, jet lag getting to you immensely but an extremely fulfilling pride and excitement within you.

you were able to do it. see the sights and meet hundreds of different people and experience all the things you convinced yourself you didn’t need or want. 

and you didn’t have a single regret until this very moment. 

because the rookie mistake you made within this amazing, journey of self-discovery around the world was not investing in a parka.

the biting temperatures of alaska were surely getting to you right now, your glove covered hands over your ears as you trekked through the snow with other groups of (properly dressed) tourists during the aurora season.

you found yourself in a snowy, freezing field, tall evergreen trees above your heads as you waited patiently for the sky to change perfectly, a buzzing excitement and low chatter from the people around you.

footsteps crunching on snow filled your ears from every direction, your eyes on the trees and large sky above you. a harsh gust of wind whipped past you and you let out a tiny squeal, your hands shooting up to your red, wind-burnt face.

you could hear a quiet, low chuckle beside you, something about the strangely familiar sound sending a whoosh of butterflies through your stomach. you didn’t understand them at that moment, ignoring your bodies odd reaction and keeping your eyes focused on the sky. 

it took hearing his voice, the same one you’d fallen in love with in your own backyard, for your eyes widen and quickly look over the snowy vast of land surrounding you.

mingi stepped in front of you, eyes full of amusement and pride and even disbelief, looking over your face with the same type of a fascination he had when he first met you.  

“aren’t you cold?”

inspired by: line without a hook by ricky montgomery, ty tiktok

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @chrryhwa @baekhvuns @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo​ @nlost21​ @toffee-hwa​ @hyunjeansuniverse​ @cherryeonii​

[shoyouth]

Hello again! So i have this idea, could i request a hc when mc is being particularly clingy with them? Like, ask to cuddle a lot or backhugs on the living room or when they go about their day, etc? She just feels very needy that day 😂 thank you! And i love your writings so much, it made me smile a lot :)

Hello, my friend! This is such a cute request tbh, ty for sending it in! And aww thank you so much, that makes me so happy to hear 😁💞

napoleon ; he loves it. If you’re not normally clingy, the first time you give him a hug he watches you amusedly, inquiring as to why. But in the morning especially, when you aren’t pulling away from his embrace so adamantly, when you aren’t scolding him to get up but instead linger and return his kiss sweetly—he’s reminded why he loves sleeping in so much, and why he loves you. He could definitely get used to this.

arthur ; will tease you. Instantly. He has that little grin on his face and he catches your hand before you can snatch your hug and leave, and he pulls you right back in to his hold. Though he really is all bark and no bite; the second he has his hands on you, his touch is feather-light, his warm arms circled around your waist delicately. He actually basks in your open affection-days, and he becomes so so soft and he hums in your ear and sways back and forth. He needs it just as much as you. On certain days he may be more playful and return your affection twicefold; one kiss to his cheek leads to him pressing his lips to both of yours.

mozart ; you’ll be hard pressed to get him away from the piano, peeking your head through the door or lingering around behind him. He may feign exasperation at your ‘insistent silent cues’ that you want affection, but he readily turns around on the bench to let you sit with him, his lips pressed against your temple. Once you’ve had your fill, he’s softened up as well, and he’s nonchalant as he says he would not mind if you just stayed and wrapped your arms around his shoulder while he played “if you’d like.”

leonardo ; when you throw him pouts across the library, he can’t help the chuckle that rises in his throat. He’ll close his book and make his way over to you, nuzzling his nose against yours softly as he jokes that you can hardly be away from him. Again, leonardo sleep often just like napoleon, so he really doesn’t mind when you want to cuddle. He’ll sleep with you anywhere but if you have qualms about napping on the hallway floor, he’ll make the effort to clear his bed (only his bed, the rest of the room is still a godforsaken mess) for the both of you to cuddle comfortably, faces towards each other and playing with each others’ fingers.

vincent ; all you have to do is give the word and his paint brush is set down and his arms are open. You either cramp yourselves up super close on his couch or you go to his favorite spot on the hill and lay in the grass. Vincent gives super warm, comforting hugs (theo can vouch for him), and he smiles so sweetly as he holds you against him. He fixes your hair and asks about your day absently, and you may hold hands as you talk or—on more mellow days—you interlock your pinkies as you watch the clouds.

theo ; he’ll be in the parlor reading poetry or talking to arthur when you come in and sit so close beside him you’re practically on his lap. He pauses to protect himself from the stutter lodged in his throat, and his eyes cast to you. At your innocent smile, he simply sighs; he knows what you want. He places his hands on either side of your waist and hoists you into his lap, his arms caging you against his chest. If arthur makes any comment he grumbles and glares, but it’s just to protect his dignity when a pink flush crosses his cheeks (all the while you just smile). Affection in front of the others always flusters him a bit, but he always plays it off and acts suave—he secretly loves it.

issac ; if you ever were to surprise him with a back hug out of the blue, oh boy. He will sputter and choke, whirling around with big eyes. He may huff defensively that you shouldn’t surprise him like that, but the feverish flush of his cheeks shows you that he’s not mad at all. Though it may take some time, he grows to love your surprise affection on your clingy days, especially when he gets too stressed or focused about teaching or tinkering. Also a major sucker for the intimacy of close embraces like dazai and arthur, where he caresses your cheek and kisses your forehead—it relaxes and reassures him a lot.

dazai ; this sly dog can instantly read when you’re clingy, but he won’t do anything until you tell him. Everytime you’re glued to his side or brush against his arm, send him needy looks—he just smiles and asks if you’ve eaten or read the book he recommended. When you finally cave and tell him, for an odd moment he will remain quiet and not do anything, maybe have you just follow him. But once you’re sat down somewhere more comfortable, he’ll turn to you and gently take you in his arms, similar to arthur, and just hold you. His fingers will card through your hair, and it’s only when you silently beg for affection that you are able to draw out this soft kind of intimacy from him.

jean ; like issac, he isn’t much of a fan of the surprises. I don’t think he’d ever come to love it though because he’s afraid of how he’d react—would he feel threatened and pull his sword on you? What if he hadn’t drank enough that day, would he turn on you? For this man’s guilt-ridden heart, please initiate affection slowly. He’d love the soft handholding while you walked and talked, or the hand on his guiding arm. As he grows more comfortable, you could initiate gentle but firm hugs or sitting in his lap, and like arthur, he would end up needing it more; he will melt in your hands with his face pressed against your shoulder, your fingers running through his hair. It helps him forget and feel loved in time.

comte ; quirks a brow at first, a soft smile crossing his lips at your inquiry. He’ll cup your chin in his hand and kiss you gently, assuring you that he is all yours and he is only there to fulfill your every desire (“Be Our Guest” from Beauty and the Beast begins playing in the distance). He’d gladly let you latch yourself to his arm while he traveled the mansion, but he throws his tasks out the window quickly to instead sit in the gardens with you, admiring the landscape with his arm securely around your waist. At times like this, he feels very happy in a mellow sense; your affection helps him forget that he’s immortal, and that he can share moments so intimate like this with you.

sebastian ; quite honestly you’re both cooking in the kitchen when you slowly intertwine your fingers with his empty one on the counter. He pauses in reading the recipe to look to you for an explanation, but you’re nonchantly getting the ingredients together. Sebastian is observant, and so I think he would quickly understand that this is your silent confession of being needy, so he’ll just smile and press a kiss to your cheek before continuing with his work. He will try his best to leave your hands connected while you work, or return to your hold as quickly as possible if the task requires both hands.

shakespeare ; your shows of needing affection may have to be more subdued if you ever want a desirable reaction. If you come on too strong or lively, he will only use poetic words to answer your actions, his eyes flashing as he’s on guard, for you couldn’t be that happy to see him, could you? But if you’re more mellow, perhaps kissing the inside of his wrist or ghosting your touch along his neck, he may shiver and crumble. Such intimacy! Mayhaps you do hold such love for him in your heart of hearts, and he’ll gloss his lips down your forearm to kiss your inner elbow to show his own desire.