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cheers-to-you-th · 5 months ago

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Don't Play Games (my heart is too fragile)

Pairing: Streamer!Seungcheol x Reader

Genre: Fluff, smut !MDNI!, s2f2l (kinda)

Tags: Fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, smut, Streamer!AU, former college classmate!Seungcheol, very short period of angst, slow burn

WC: 21k

Summary: Getting addicted to watching hot men play video games was definitely not on your year's bingo card. Getting addicted to watching Choi Seungcheol of all people? The idea would have been laughable.

Warnings: Smut, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected sex (they’re dumb, you shouldn’t be: wrap it before you tap it), pet names (princess), bigdick!Seungcheol, praise, some angst, lmk if I missed anything

taglist: @christinewithluv @cherry-zip @orngejuiceluv

The first time you stumbled upon Seungcheol's stream, it was an accident, a shocking one at that. It was just another boring day at work, your normal podcasts weren't doing it for you- listening about murders while writing a report on "harassment" between two employees who were simply arguing gave you some ideas that would not be very HR Manager of you- so you instead decide to go on twitch, your coworker had once told you it was perfect background noise.

You clicked on the first stream in the gaming category: Val w/coups by 'everyone_woo'. The stream had opened and the face of your old college classmate filled your screen and you nearly got whiplash from the double take you did.

Apparently the aforementioned "Coups" was the former infamous president of Chi Beta Zeta, Choi Seungcheol. It makes sense, you suppose- that they'd be friends- having been in the same frat, but the idea of shy Wonwoo from Engineering and not-so-shy Seungcheol, your fellow Communications major, was a little off-putting. That is, until you remember the other thing they had in common along with the rest of CBZ: sex.

Rumors constantly circulated: who Seungcheol brought upstairs at the last party, what girl Wonwoo was seen dragging into the supply closet near the library; although you were never a part of the rumors they spread like wildfire.

You shoved those thoughts aside as you finished the report, and when the rest of the day went by quicker than normal, you reminded yourself to thank Jeonghan later.

(And you definitely maybe went home and looked up "S.coups" on your computer before deciding his gravelly voice would be your new favorite white noise machine.)

Soon enough listening to him had become a habit; you were working? He was raging over a new fps he was trying; you were cleaning the house? He and Wonwoo were trying a new game pre-release.

On Wednesdays you, Minghao, and Jeonghan have a tradition: the three of you meet at a whole-in-the-wall cafe to gossip catch up with each other outside of work-talk. It started back in college, an agreement to always meet in the middle of the week for a break from everything—stress, assignments, life. Even now, years later, with jobs and responsibilities pulling you in different directions, Wednesdays remained sacred.

Today the three of you find yourselves in the same dimly lit restaurant you’ve all sworn by for years. It’s not anything fancy, but its quiet, comfortable, and, most importantly, they have a bartender who never questions the amount of time you all spend loitering at a table long after the food is gone.

Minghao is already there when you arrive, scrolling through his phone with the slight air of disinterest he always carried. Jeonghan shows up moments later, his usual carefree smile in place as he slid into the seat across from you.

“You’re late,” you tease, setting down your bag.

Jeonghan waves a hand dismissively. “Traffic.”

Minghao snorts, locking his phone. “We chose this place because it’s closer to your office so you can walk here.”

“Exactly,” Jeonghan says, grinning. “Too many people in my way.”

You roll your eyes but let it slide, already used to his antics. The three of you order your usuals, conversation flowing easily between catching up on work drama and not-work drama. It’s comfortable, familiar.

Then, as if on cue, Jeonghan’s eyes gleam with mischief, and you know what is coming before he even opens his mouth. “So,” he starts, resting his chin on his hand, “how’s our favorite Twitch streamer?”

You groan. “We’re not doing this.”

“Oh, we absolutely are,” Jeonghan counters. “Minghao, did you know our dear friend here has been religiously listening to Choi Seungcheol rage at video games?”

Minghao raises a brow, intrigued. “Seungcheol? That Seungcheol?”

You huff, sinking into your seat. “It’s just background noise. I put it on while I work.”

Jeonghan’s smirk widens at your dismissal. “Sure. Background noise. Because out of all the streams in the world, you just happened to choose your old college classmate’s?”

Minghao, ever observant, takes a sip of his drink before adding, “You know, he mentioned you a couple times.”

You blink. “What?”

Jeonghan nods enthusiastically. “Oh yeah. Back in CBZ, there was a few months where all he could talk about was you. He thought you were cute and would get really annoyed when you brushed him off. It was super funny seeing him finally get rejected, even if it was just because you were too oblivious to notice him flirting with you.”

“Dense,” Minghao supplies. “That was the word he used.”

You roll your eyes at them, “I wasn’t dense or oblivious, I don’t even remember talking to him for more than ten seconds. I was too focused on trying to graduate, plus he wasn’t my type.”

“Suuuuuure.” Jeonghan leers, “That’s why you listen to his voice on a daily basis now. Regret some things?”

You don’t roll your eyes at him, focusing intently on your drink as you swirl the liquid in your glass. “Whatever, I just thought it was more interesting to listen to someone I kind of knew instead of some random person.”

Jeonghan and Minghao exchange a look that makes it clear this conversation is far from over, but, mercifully, they let it go—for now.

A week later they grill you about Seungcheol one more time before finally deciding to let it go, thinking finally you can live in peace.

That’s why you’re almost having a heart attack as you exit the elevator to see the very man of your dreams standing outside the apartment adjacent to yours, moving boxes in hand. Frozen, you stand there gawking looking at him. As if he can feel your gaze, Seungcheol looks over at you and raises an eyebrow in question, looking borderline nervous and irritated. It broke whatever trance you were in as you introduced yourself (trying your best not to stutter) as a former classmate. He visibly relaxed at that while his eyes lit up in recognition.

“Professor Han’s class, right? We had a study group together one time.” You nod, thinking back to how girls had glared at you during class for daring to be randomly grouped with Seungcheol. The session had gone by quickly, slipping your mind until now.

“Uh, yeah, for midterms practice I think. I’m surprised you remember.” Your response has a smile pulling at the corners of his (annoyingly perfect) lips.

“Hard to forget such a pretty face.”

His words cause your eyes to roll, some things never change you suppose. You hum in response, “Except when I first came up here and you looked like I had insulted your entire bloodline or something.”

Seungcheol’s smile, you decide, is your favorite sight. His eyes crinkle at the sides, the cutest dimples form on his cheeks when his lips curl upwards, a chuckle escaping them. “Sorry, I just thought- it doesn’t matter. It was really good seeing you again though.” A matching smile on your face, you offer to help him with any boxes but he only shakes his head.

“I was taught to never let a lady carry her own things, carrying mine? Unheard of. Although if you want to cheer me on I wouldn’t mind seeing your face more.” He winks and you just shake your head, ignoring the heat rising to your cheeks. You respond with something about outdated views before excusing yourself to the safety of your apartment, taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart.

Over the next few weeks, the two bump into each other frequently; exiting your apartments, entering the complex; each time briefly chatting before going your separate ways. Some nights you would get a notification about a stream, only to hear him talking through your bedroom wall. Part of you felt bad watching him play, guilt gnawing away at your thoughts and distracting you.

It’s fine you tell yourself as you write the marketing team’s monthly performance report.

It’s fine you delude yourself as you hand said report to your deskmate, Minghao, to review.

It’s fi-shit you finally are snapped out of your denial when Minghao hands your report back covered in red pen marks and shame. He says your name with concern lacing his voice, “Have you been doing okay? You seem kind of… off and I’ve never seen this kind of work from you before.”

You shake your head, burying your face in your hands, “Sorry Hao, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

He just tilts his head and tells you that, if you ever need to talk, he’s here. That was the downside of working with your best friend– you could never hide anything from him. Normally you’d take him up on the offer- tell him your woes and such- if it wasn’t so goddamn embarrassing. You brush him off before taking a deep breath and steel yourself as you weigh your options. You could either tell Seungcheol that you watch his streams or stop watching them altogether, and you sure as hell wouldn’t be inflating his ego anymore (at least that’s the reason you tell yourself, it’s definitely not that you don’t want him to feel uncomfortable around you).

The rest of the day goes by at a torturing pace, no commentary in the background to make time fly quicker. By the time you get on the bus, you’re half-asleep, and then you’re full asleep, head lulled to the side, bouncing uncomfortably on the window, not that you notice.

“..am? Ma’am this is the last stop. You need to get off now.” The driver of the bus stands in front of you while you rub the sleep out of your eyes and look around. Taking note of the darkness outside the window and unfamiliar street, you sigh and lean your head against the window again, flinching at your slightly bruised head.

Could this day get any fucking better.

You apologize to the driver, who just looks at you with pity, and get off the bus, gauging your surroundings and sighing, breath fogging in front of you. Your bus stop is one of the last ones, meaning after a second you realize where you are and groan, pulling out your phone to call a car. Except of-fucking-course your phone is dead. It’s late, the watch on your wrist reading 11:56 (thank god at least something of yours is working) and look around one more time, hoping a taxi would drive by and save you from the cold night. Shoulders slumped in resignation, you start walking towards your apartment, it’s only a few blocks away, a maybe twenty minute walk, as long as your notoriously shitty sense of direction screws you over, which it does. By the time you reach your building you’re shivering, nose and fingers red as you reach into your bag for your keys.

Keys.

Keys that you remember setting on your desk at work but don’t remember picking up. You want to scream. And cry. Mostly cry, if you’re gonna be honest because now your shitty day turned into an even shittier night. Morning, you realize as your watch now reads 12:34. A shaky laugh escapes your lips as you slump down next to the apartment complex’s glass door that seems to taunt you, as if it's rubbing in your face how close relief is and how unreachable.

You feel your throat start to tighten and tears begin to well in your eyes.

“Y/n?”

You think you’re starting to go insane from the cold until a warm hand lands on your shoulder, a shadow crouching in front of you. Looking up hesitantly, you come face to face with your new neighbor, plastic bag in hand from what you assume to be a late-night snack run. The tears in your eyes start to fall as you begin to sob, if you were in your right mind this would be the most embarrassing moment of your life, but right now you’re cold and hungry and scared and this man appeared like an angel sent from heaven just to help you.

“Oh my god, you’re freezing. What are you even- nevermind that come on.” Seungcheol’s arms wrap around you as he helps you up, getting into the building with his keys and walking with you to the elevator. When it starts to ascend, Seungcheol sets his bag on the ground and takes his jacket off, wrapping it around you. You don’t even have the strength to argue with him, all of it spent on the tears that now slowed to a stop as you look down at your feet, shame starting to kick in. You don’t want to imagine the look on his face right now, knowing it’ll be the same pitying glances you’ve received all day.

The elevator dings as it arrives on the correct floor. Your feet start moving, muscle memory kicking in until you’re at your door, realizing you still don’t have your keys. When an arm once again wraps around you, you don’t even protest, allowing Seungcheol to guide you into his apartment, where he sets blankets and pillows on his couch. When you move to lay on it, he stops you.

“What are you doing? I’m sleeping on the couch, you can take my bed.” The words seemingly bring you out of the numb trance-like state you’d been in ever since you stopped crying.

“I- what?! No, oh my god Seungcheol no, I couldn’t- I mean you’re already doing so much for me and-” A warm hand cups touches your forehead, promptly cutting off your rambling as your frantic eyes meet Seungcheol’s warm gaze. Fuck he shouldn’t look at you like that.

“No offense Y/n but you look like you’re on the verge of hypothermia, you need the bed more than I do.” His hand moves from your cheek to pat the top of your head as you huff, letting Seungcheol guide you to his room where. You can’t help but feel guilty as you watch him rummage through his closet before emerging with a victorious smile and a large T-shirt.

“Wear this- before you argue,” He cuts off your protests before they can even start, “think of it as me not wanting dirty clothes on my bed and, as much as I would love to see it, you are way too cold to be sleeping in panties tonight.”

Your face flushes as you grab the shirt he holds out to you, avoiding his gaze. “Thank you Seungcheol. Really. I’m sorry that you have to do this, but I really do appreciate it.” Glancing up at him, you watch as his teasing smirk melts into something different, softer.

“Don’t apologize. I’ll always be here if you need help with something, what are neighbors for?” walking towards the door, Seungcheol looks back at you one more time, “I normally wouldn’t let you sleep without at least having a warm bath to stop a cold, but I think you’d pass out in the shower if I tried. Get a good night’s rest, yeah? I’ll see you in the morning.” And even after he leaves the room, his warmth stays, the soft gaze he’d given you burned into your eyelids as you drift to sleep.

The scent of coffee and bacon wakes you from deep sleep. For a second, you're disoriented, the unfamiliar surroundings causing a brief panic before switching to embarrassment as memories of last night flood back. You're in Seungcheol's bed, wrapped in his sheets that smell faintly of pinewood and something uniquely him.

Sunlight streams through gaps in the curtains, painting stripes across the room. You stretch away the ache in your muscles from the cold and stress of yesterday, tugging the oversized shirt Seungcheol lent you down as you swing your legs over the side of the bed.

Your bare feet hit cool hardwood, as you shuffle towards the bedroom door, following the enticing smell of breakfast. In the kitchen, Seungcheol stands at the stove, his broad back to you.

As you approach, Seungcheol turns, spatula in hand, and flashes you a heart-stopping smile. "Morning. How are you feeling?"

You run a hand through your sleep-mussed hair, suddenly self-conscious. "Better, thanks to you. I can't believe that happened."

"Hey, don’t worry about it," he chuckles. "I figured you could use the rest. Coffee?"

You nod gratefully while he pours you a steaming mug. Seungcheol plates up eggs, bacon, and toast. The domesticity of the scene isn't lost to you - here you are, in his clothes, sharing breakfast in his kitchen. It feels dangerously intimate.

"Thanks," you murmur, accepting the plate he hands you. "You really didn't have to do all this."

Seungcheol waves off your gratitude as he settles across from you at the small kitchen table. "It's no trouble. Besides, I couldn't let you face the day on an empty stomach after last night."

You take a bite of the perfectly crispy bacon, trying not to moan at how good it tastes. As you eat in companionable silence, you can't help but sneak glances at Seungcheol. His hair is slightly mussed from sleep, a slight sleepy haze in his eyes. He looks softer like this, less like the polished streamer and more like the boy you’d seen in college.

"So," he says after a while, setting down his mug. "Want to tell me what happened last night?"

You hesitate, your fork hovering over your plate. What were you supposed to say? That you had been thinking of him non-stop for the last 24 hours? That you were a mess whose sense of direction was almost as bad as your work-life balance? That you'd been caught in what was arguably one of your worst moments, by none other than the main cause of your original turmoil?

He seems to sense your internal conflict because he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. His tone softens, playful but not prying. "You don’t have to, y'know. I just figured you might want to talk about it. Seems like you had a long day, I won’t judge."

You sigh, feeling the weight of exhaustion creep back in. "It’s not even that interesting," you start, avoiding his eyes. " It was just... one thing after another. Fell asleep on the bus, could’t call a taxi caus’ my phone died, forgot my keys at work; Honestly, the world was conspiring against me the whole day, I swear."

Seungcheol hums thoughtfully, swirling the last of his coffee in his mug. "Sounds rough. No one likes walking around in the freezing cold with no way to get inside. It was a good thing I went out when I did, maybe it’s a sign I should take more midnight snack runs."

You laugh softly and promptly ignore the stuttering of your heart, "Hopefully it won’t happen again," you admit. "And… either way it’s not exactly something I want to bother you with."

He raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "You weren’t a bother at all. Besides, I think helping you out is the bare minimum of what neighbors should do, don’t you?"

Neighbor. The word feels heavier than it should, he’s right; all you are to him is a neighbor, nothing more nothing less. You try to play off the feeling of your heart dropping into your shoes, shaking your head with a small laugh. "I have to admit, I’d never have guessed you were the knight-in-shining-armour type. At-night-in-UnderArmour maybe, but this is unexpected"

Seungcheol grins, his dimples flashing. "Hey now, don’t let the frat guy rep fool you. I’ve always been nice."

You laugh at that, the tension in your chest loosening. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

As he rinses the dishes, you take a moment to look around his apartment. It’s cozy, a mix of modern furniture and personal touches—a stack of books on the coffee table, a framed photo of what looks like his old frat brothers on a shelf, and a ridiculous number of gaming peripherals on his desk. It suits him, you think, the same way his easy smile and annoyingly perfect hair suit him.

"So," Seungcheol says, drying his hands before turning to face you. "Any plans today? Or are you planning to crash and catch up on sleep?"

"Work," you groan, already dreading the thought of going back to the office. "I have to deal with a report I butchered yesterday."

"Rough," he says, leaning against the counter. "Tell you what—after work, if you’re up for it, I’ll make dinner. Consider it part two of my neighborly duties."

The offer catches you off guard, but you manage to nod despite the sudden flutter in your stomach. "You don’t have to keep feeding me, you know."

Seungcheol just shrugs, a teasing glint in his eye. "I know. But I want to. Plus, you owe me. You cried on my shirt last night, remember?"

Your jaw drops, heat rushing to your face as you groan. "I did not—!"

"You totally did," he interrupts with a laugh, clearly enjoying your embarrassment. "It’s okay, though. It’s a good story."

"You’d better not go spreading this around mister." you say, pointing a warning finger at him. But the smile tugging at your lips betrays you, and Seungcheol just grins wider.

"Hmm I make no promises madam."

As you gather your things and prepare to face the day, Seungcheol’s warm gaze and easy laughter lingers in your mind, making you feel giddy and guilty at the same time. And as you step out of his apartment, you realize you’re already looking forward to the evening.

The day drags on slower than you’d like, each hour feeling like an eternity between the mountain of emails, the endless meetings, and the painstakingly slow process of fixing your stupid report.

By the time you get back to your apartment (with your keys this time, thank god), exhaustion is settled deep in your bones. You drop your bag by the door and kick off your shoes, barely making it to the couch before collapsing in a heap. The thought of getting up, even to change out of your work clothes, feels like an impossible task.

A soft knock at your door jolts you out of your half-asleep state. For a split second, you consider ignoring it, but then you remember Seungcheol’s offer(demand?) from this morning. With a groan, you drag yourself up and shuffle to the door, opening it to find him standing there, a grin on his face and a grocery bag in hand.

"Thought you might be too tired to make it over," he says, holding up the bag. "So, I figured I’d bring the dinner to you."

You blink at him, caught off guard. "You… didn’t have to do that," you mumble, though the smell wafting from the bag has your stomach growling in protest.

He laughs, brushing past you into the apartment. "I know. But you seemed like you had a long day, and I wasn’t about to let you skip a proper meal. Plus, I’m not sure I trust you to make anything edible in your state."

"Hey!" you protest, following him into the kitchen. "I’m perfectly capable of cooking, thank you very much."

He raises an eyebrow, eyes scanning your kitchen clearly unconvinced. "Sure you are. When was the last time you had something that wasn’t instant ramen or takeout?"

You open your mouth to argue, but the words die on your tongue because… well, the empty takeout boxes in your kitchen speak enough. Instead, you cross your arms and huff. "Fine. You win. But only because I’m too tired to argue."

"Glad we’re on the same page," he says, already unpacking the bag and setting up in your kitchen like he owns the place. You watch as he moves with practiced ease, pulling out ingredients and utensils like he’s done this a million times before.

It’s oddly comforting, watching him work. The kitchen feels warmer, cozier, with him in it. You find yourself leaning against the counter, a small smile tugging at your lips as he chats about his day—about how his coworker accidentally sent an email to the entire company, or how he nearly slipped on ice outside his building.

Before you know it, the smell of something delicious fills the air, and your stomach growls loudly, earning a laugh from Seungcheol.

"I guess you’re hungry," he teases, sliding a plate in front of you.

You roll your eyes but can’t hide your grin as you pick up your fork. "If this is bad, I’m never letting you live it down."

He smirks, leaning against the counter as he watches you take your first bite. The flavors hit your tongue, and you can’t help the satisfied hum that escapes you.

"Okay, fine," you admit, reluctantly. "This is… not bad."

"Sure, not bad. Dare you say good?" he says, his grin widening. "You’re welcome, by the way."

The two of you eat together, the conversation flowing easily. It’s light and playful, with just the right amount of teasing to keep you on your toes. By the time the plates are empty, you realize you’re smiling more than you have in days.

As he helps you clean up, you find yourself glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. There’s something about the way he moves, the way he laughs, that makes your chest feel a little too tight and your thoughts a little too scattered.

"Thanks for this," you say softly as he dries the last plate. "I really needed it."

He looks at you, his expression softening. "Anytime," he says simply. "That’s what neighbors are for, right?"

Neighbor. There it is again, that word. But this time, it doesn’t feel as heavy. Because maybe, just maybe, it’s not about what you are to each other now, but about what you could be.

A few days pass in a blurry haze. Seungcheol’s number was now saved in your phone, his occasional texts making you more giddy than you’d like to admit. The two of you occasionally see each other in the hallway, tonight he knocks on your door with food in hand, claiming he made too much and offering you some. You invite him in to share the meal (you’re just being a good neighbor), laughing and joking around as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And honestly, it kind of was.

Seungcheol insists on brewing you a cup of tea before he leaves, claiming it’s the perfect way to wind down after a long day. You let him, mostly because you’re too tired to argue but also because, well… It's nice having him here.

He chats while the kettle heats up, leaning casually against the counter like he belongs in your kitchen. The way he speaks, the rhythm of his voice, fills the quiet space in a way that feels natural—like he’s not just filling silence but adding something to it.

When he hands you the steaming mug, his fingers brush yours briefly, and you try not to overthink the spark of warmth that lingers long after he pulls away.

"So, any big plans tomorrow?" he asks, settling into a chair at your kitchen table. It feels oddly domestic, like this is something the two of you do all the time. You shake your head, cradling the mug in your hands. "Just work. Again. Though I’m praying for fewer disasters this time."

He chuckles, resting his chin in his hand as he looks at you. "Sounds like you could use a break. Maybe take the weekend off, do something fun."

You snort softly. “Like what, go clubbing or something? Not really my vibe."

"Doesn’t have to be that extreme," he says, grinning. "It could be something simple. A walk in the park, binge-watching a terrible reality show, or trying out that café down the street you keep mentioning but never go to."

You raise an eyebrow at him. "Are you suggesting I take myself on a date?"

"Hey, self-care is important," he says with a shrug, though the teasing glint in his eye suggests he’s enjoying himself. "But if you need a plus-one, I might be available."

The words hang in the air for a moment, and you’re not entirely sure how to respond. Is he joking? Probably. But there’s a softness in his expression that makes you wonder if there’s more to it than that.

"I’ll think about it," you say finally, trying to sound casual. "But don’t get your hopes up, Cheol. I’m not easy to impress."

He smirks, leaning back in his chair. "So it’s Cheol now, huh? Don’t apologize- I like it." he once again practically reads your thoughts, “And here, once you’re done thinking, let me know, yeah? Or in case you get locked out again.” Seungcheol slides over his phone with a new contact open as you roll your eyes, typing your number in anyways.

It’s late by the time he finally leaves, the mug you used now washed and drying on the counter. As you close the door behind him, your apartment feels quieter than it did before. Not in a bad way— the kind of quiet that lets you think. You find yourself replaying the evening in your head: his laugh, the way he somehow managed to turn your chaotic kitchen into a space that felt warm and inviting, the way his gaze didn’t leave you once when the two of you talked.

Shaking your head, you force yourself to focus on getting ready for bed. It’s nothing, you tell yourself. He’s probably just trying to make some new friends in the neighborhood.

But as you crawl under the covers, your mind drifts back to his earlier word, "If you need a plus-one, I might be available." The thought lingers, a soft thread of warmth that wraps around your chest as you grab your phone, typing a message before you can change your mind. Your fingers hover over the screen for a moment before you close your eyes and press send.

You: So how about that date?

The text felt heavier as the three little dots that blink back at you in reply. You hold your breath, heartbeat thudding in your ears.

When his text pops up on your phone, a shy smile automatically spreads across your face as you read it.

Seungcheol: How about Saturday?

Seungcheol: I’ll plan it—just be ready by 10.

The squeal you let out could rival one of a teenage girl on her first date as you kick your feet giddily in bed. Fuck, you were already down so bad. When you hear a chuckle through the wall your phone drops to the floor with a thud as it buzzes again..

Seungcheol: Careful, I might start to hope you’re looking forward to seeing me

This arrogant correct motherfucker. Your fingers type a quick response, trying to save whatever dignity you have left.

You: Saw a spider

You: Anyways where should I meet you?

His response makes your eyes roll with endearment annoyance.

Seungcheol: I think your memories are getting mixed up, spider was what everyone called Hoshi, not me. And no spoilers, just dress comfortably.

Two days later, Saturday morning rolls around, and you’re standing in front of your mirror, staring at your outfit for the third time. He said casual, so why are you frantically searching for the perfect attire?

It’s fine, you think, not over the top. He doesn’t know what your closet looks like anyways, for all he knows you always wear this kind of clothes.

Your cozy beige sweater is paired with jeans and ankle boots, casual but still nice. Your makeup is light, natural.

A knock on your door makes your heart jolt. Grabbing your bag, you take a steadying breath before opening it.

Seungcheol stands there, hands casually tucked in his jacket pocket, a grin already spreading across his face. His eyes flick up and down your body once, twice, hitching in some areas before finally settling on your eyes.

“You-” He clears his throat, “You look really good.” His eyes flick away from yours briefly, you swear you hear him mutter something along the lines of too good but it must be your imagination, flustered by how the man in front of you seems almost shy.

“Thanks,” you reply, giving him a similar once over to the one he’d subjected you to earlier.

Black cargo pants with a dark denim jacket (that somehow looks warm) over a white graphic T. The outfit might look sloppy on someone else, but Seungcheol makes it look like he should be on a runway, the clothes draping over him perfectly as though everything was custom-made for him.

“You don’t look half bad yourself.”

“You really are hard to impress huh?” he teases. “Lucky for you I’m always happy to deliver. Ready to go?”

The two of you walk to the parking outside as you chat, getting into his annoyingly nice car. You can’t help but wonder where he’s taking you as the roads out the window blur. No matter how hard you try to pry the information out of him, he doesn’t budge. A lesson in patience, he tells you. When the car finally stops, you look around, surprised– an amusement park.

“Seriously?” you ask, poorly trying to hide your smile as you stare at him.

“What? Too childish for you princess?” he says with a sly grin. You just hum in faux indignation, giving up on any attempt at hiding your smile.

The park is alive with bright lights, lively music; the smell of popcorn and funnel cakes wafting through the chilly air. You wander through the attractions, playing a few games and riding the tamer rides to start. At one of the stands, Seungcheol picks up two pairs of animal ears, holding them where you can’t see.

“Pick a side.” he states with a sparkle in his eyes, hands behind his back.

You roll your eyes at his antics and do as he asks.

“Good choice,” he said, handing you a pair of floppy bunny ears, putting the other set- wolf ears- on his own head. “How do I look?”

You snort. “Ridiculous.”

“Come on princess, I think yours suit you perfectly,” he teased, tugging gently on one of the ears now perched on your head. He drags you over to one of the photo-booths scattered around the park and pulls you inside as you laugh.

His arm is wrapped around you, who instinctively leans into his shoulder as the screen counts down. After some more silly shots, the last timer runs on the screen. The two of you are posing when you impulsively turn your head and press a kiss to his cheek as the flash goes off. Before you can try and see Seungcheols expression you quickly get out of the booth, crouching down to wait for the photos to print. A shadow surrounds you but you ignore it, grabbing the two photo stips and standing up, actively avoiding looking at the man behind you until you feel strong arms circle around your waist.

“Don’t get shy on me now, princess.” Seungcheol’s voice is low and quiet, his breath tickling you neck. He gently turns you around in his arms, forcing you to face him. When you do, you can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips.

His eyebrows raise, expression soft and questioning as you raise your hand to his cheek. “You’ve uh.. Got a little something on here.” Before you can wipe off the lipstick mark a hand grabbing your wrist stops you. Seungcheol just hums, the smile on his face growing as he responds. “Leave it there, I like it.”

You look away, flustered, “It might stain.”

His smile only grows further as his hands squeeze your waist reassuringly, “Even better.”

A few more hours fly by in a blur of laughter, shared glances, and the occasional screaming as you ride a roller coaster. As the day winds down, Seungcheol leads you toward the Ferris wheel.

“Ending with a Ferris wheel ride at sunset huh?” you tease with a smirk. “Classic.”

He chuckles. “You’re smiling, so I think it’s worth being cheesy.”

Your face flushes as you step into the car with him, the soft glow of the park lights casting everything in a dreamy haze. As the wheel lifts you higher, you take in the moment—simple, sweet, and perfect.

The car sways gently as it begins to ascend, the world growing smaller beneath your feet. Seungcheol leans back in the seat across from you, his arm casually draped across the edge, as though the intimacy of the situation didn’t seem to bother him at all. Meanwhile, your heart is racing, the memories of the day making it difficult to keep your composure as you keep your eyes trained on the park as it gets smaller and smaller.

“Nice view,” the man across from you murmurs. When you sneak a glance at him, his eyes aren’t on the horizon—they’re focused on you, his soft expression making your breath hitch.

You bite the inside of your cheek, turning to face the window again. “Yeah, it’s beautiful,” you agree, your voice coming out shakier than intended. The warmth of the sunset casts a golden glow across the park below, lights beginning to twinkle as the day faded.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Seungcheol shift slightly closer. “You’ve been smiling all day,” he comments. “Do I get some credit for that, or was it just the funnel cakes?”

You laugh, turning back to meet his gaze. “Oh definitely the funnel cake, But you’re decent company too, I guess.”

He grins, leaning forward just slightly. “Decent? Come on, you can do better than that.”

You raise a brow, trying to hold your ground despite how his closeness makes you feel like melting into the seat. “Don’t push your luck.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the distant hum of the park and the creak of the Ferris wheel as it carries you higher. His expression softens, and he tilts his head slightly, as though weighing his next words carefully. “You know,” he starts, his voice low, “I wasn’t kidding when I said I hoped you were looking forward to seeing me.”

Your breath catches, and you search his face for any trace of teasing, but his expression is nothing but sincerity with a tinge of nervousness. “Maybe I was,” you admit quietly.

His smile widens, dimples returning with full force as the confidence that had momentarily wavered in his eyes returns. “I’m glad. Maybe I was hoping to see you too.”

The car comes to a stop at the top of the wheel, leaving the two of you suspended in the sky. The view is breathtaking, but all you can focus on is the way Seungcheol’s eyes shine, on the curve of his nose, where your lips are stamped on his cheek, how soft and welcoming his own lips look. His fingers brush your own and your heart is pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice smooth and steady, as if sensing your hesitation.

You nod, your gaze flicking between his eyes and the hand now gently covering yours. “Yeah. Just… you make me nervous.” As soon as the words leave your mouth you want to jump out of the ferris wheel.

He chuckles softly, the sound halting your thoughts. “Ditto.” he remarks and you swear your heart stops as he leans closer, his voice barely above a whisper. His face is inches from yours, the space between you charged with tension. You could feel the warmth of his breath mixing with your own, the weight of his presence grounding you and making your head spin all at once.

And then, as though the universe decided it hated you, the car jolts slightly, the Ferris wheel beginning its descent. The tension clears, and you both laugh as it dissolves into something softer and more familiar. When you both reach the ground, Seungcheol offers you a hand as you step out of the gondola, not letting go until the two of you reach his car.

Seungcheol opens the passenger door for you, his hand lingering on the frame as you step in. He waits until you’re settled, closing the door with a gentle thud before walking around to the driver’s side. As he slides into the seat, the soft click of the doors locking echoes in the quiet night.

The drive home is comfortable, the radio humming a mellow tune as the city lights streak past the windows. Neither of you speak much, but for once you don’t mind the silence, it’s comfortable, as if the events of the day are still settling in your minds.

When the two of you finally arrive at your adjacent apartments, he turns to look at you.

“So,” he begins, his voice carrying that familiar teasing lilt, “did I live up to your standards of being ‘decent company’?”

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin. “I guess you weren’t terrible,” you reply, feigning nonchalance.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he leans against the wall. “I’ll take it. Progress is progress.”

The silence that follows isn’t awkward—it’s heavy with the weight of the day, the laughter, the quiet moments, and the words that neither of you seems quite ready to say.

“Well,” you finally say, your hand moving to the door handle, “thanks for today. I really needed it.”

Seungcheol doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the photo strip from earlier at the amusement park. He holds it out to you, his fingers brushing yours when you take it.

You glance down at the photos—the silly poses, the bunny ears, the surprised look on his face as you kissed his cheek—and your chest tightens in the best way possible. “Thanks,” you murmur, your voice almost lost in the stillness.

When you look back up, he’s watching you, his expression unreadable. He shifts, fingers lightly grazing yours.

“Hey,” he says quietly, his voice steadier than you feel. “If you’re up for it… we should do this again sometime.”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, all you can do is nod. “Yeah,” you manage, your voice soft. “I’d like that too.”

His smile grows, and for a split second, you think he might lean in, but instead, he squeezes your hand gently before pulling back. “Get some rest.” he says, his tone light but his eyes lingering on yours.

As you open your door, the apartment inside feels emptier than normal. You pause, glancing back at Seungcheol.

“Text me when you’re free,” he says, his grin now fully teasing. “Or, you know, just knock on the wall or something.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you softly close the door. Your heart races as you lean against it, the photo strip still clutched in your hand. You glance down at the images, your smile widening as you run your thumb over the glossy surface.

You were screwed—completely and utterly fucked—but for the first time in a long while, you didn’t mind one bit.

Jeonghan is late again, you’d think he’d learn to use his time better on Wednesdays but some things never change, you suppose. You sit across from Hao, sipping on your coffee as he eyes you suspiciously.

“So,” he begins, placing his tea on the table, his voice carrying that signature teasing lilt. “You went on a date.”

You nearly choke, coughing into your hand as you set your drink down. “Excuse me? How do you know that?”

He just smirks, leaning back in his chair with an air of triumph. “I was just guessing but you just confirmed it.”

Your jaw drops at his audacity. “That’s not fair—you tricked me!”

“Hardly,” he replies, stirring his tea with mock innocence. “You’re just too easy to read. So was it good?”

Before you can fire back, a familiar voice cuts in, smooth and teasing. “What’s this about a date?”

You turn to see Jeonghan strolling toward your table, his blazer slung over one shoulder and his hair annoyingly perfect, as if he’d stepped out of a magazine, not his office. He grins as he pulls out a chair to join you.

“Oh, great,” you mutter, sinking into your seat. “Now it’s both of you.”

Jeonghan raises a brow, clearly delighted. “Both of us? This sounds like a story. Go on, I’m listening.”

Minghao smirks, pointing at you with his spoon. “She went on a date.”

“Stop saying it like that,” you shoot back, narrowing your eyes at him.

Jeonghan’s eyes light up as he leans forward, resting his chin in his hand. “Ooh, let me guess, the new neighbor you told us about?”

You sigh, knowing you’re outnumbered. “Okay, okay fine. Yes, with the neighbor, and it was nice. That’s all you’re getting.”

“Nice?” Jeonghan repeats, feigning disappointment. “That’s all? Come on, you can do better than that. You haven’t been on a date in god-knows how long and all you can say is ‘nice’?”

“Why are you even here?” you snap, though you couldn’t help the laugh that slipped through.

Minghao tilts his head thoughtfully. “Was it ‘okay’ good or ‘planning another date’ good?”

“I’m betting it’s the second one.” Jeonghan said, his voice lilting.

You groaned, dropping your face into your hands. “Why do I tell either of you anything?”

Jeonghan flashes his signature cheshire smile, nudging your arm. “Because we’re your favorite. Now, come on. Was there a spark? A magical moment? Did you trip over something and land in his arms? Don’t leave us hanging.”

“Nothing like that, you dork.” you respond, trying to hide your smile but failing miserably. “It was just... fun. Exciting. Better than I thought it would be.” Jeonghan and Minghao exchange a look, one of those silent, unspoken conversations that only the three of you could understand.

“Definitely planning date two,” Minghao says, deadpan.

You groan again, but the warmth of their teasing—playful and supportive—makes it impossible to be annoyed. “I hate you guys,” you mumble, though your laugh gives you away.

“And yet,” Jeonghan teases, raising an imaginary glass, “you keep us around. To your nice, hot neighbor for finally getting you out of your apartment!”

Minghao raises his tea to join in. “Cheers to that.”

Rolling your eyes, you clink your mug against theirs. “You’re both insufferable.”

“For sure,” Minghao says with a smile, “that’s why you love us.”

Weeks pass in a blur of updating your nosy friends and texting Seungcheol, soon enough you find yourself looking forward to his messages, giddy feelings replaced with warmth and comfort. The banter is light but always at the edge of something more lingering between every word.

Cheol: So u finally going to admit that you miss me?You: I don’t wanna lie to you Cheol.Cheol: You say that now, but wait until this weekend. You’ll be begging for more.You: Oh? What if I have plans this weekend? You know, being busy and all that.Cheol: Then I guess I’ll have to cancel my dinner reservations :(You: We can't have that can we?

The next message is an address and the words: 7pm

Saturday evening comes faster than you expected, and when you glance at the clock, the realization hits that you’re running behind. You rush to get ready, a mix of excitement and nerves churning in your stomach as you pick out an outfit matching the nice restaurant Seungcheol had sent you. You want to show him a side of yourself that’s more than you coming home or leaving for work.

You choose a dark red dress that hugs your curves in all the right places. The neckline dips just low enough, an elegant slit running up the side. Paired with black heels and a sleek necklace dangling almost dangerously low, it feels just right. You spend a little extra time on makeup, defining each feature and topping it off with a red lip that matches your dress. By the time you’re finished, you feel more confident than you have in a while.

A knock at your door sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins.You check the mirror one last time before stepping toward the door, trying to keep your composure.

When the door opens Seungcheol just stands there for a second, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. The intensity of the gaze almost has you feeling self-conscious, until you see the way his eyes take on a slightly glazed quality instead of the usual teasing glint.

“Damn,” he finally breathes out, his voice low and shaky. “You look… wow.”

You bite back your smile, feeling your cheeks heat up at his gaze. “Thanks,” you say, trying to act nonchalant, but failing miserably.

He steps closer, his gaze still lingering on you, and you can almost feel magnetic pull in the space between you. “I… ” His eyes flick down to your heels and then back up to your face, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “I might need to take a second to adjust.”

You chuckle, feeling the warmth of his hands burning your hips through the fabric of your dress, “Well, would you look at that? Choi Seungcheol is actually tongue-tied.”

Seungcheol’s grin widens, “How could I not be speechless when you look like that?”, he asks before taking your hand and leading you to his car. The ride is short, but this time, it feels different. The air between you is thick with anticipation, neither of you speaking much—words feel unnecessary when the moment speaks for itself.

When you arrive at the restaurant, the valet greets Seungcheol like an old friend, and you can’t help but notice the way he carries himself—confident, composed, like he belongs in this world. He guides you through the entrance, a small smile on his face as gently takes your hand.

The restaurant has an air of quiet elegance, the kind that feels effortlessly luxurious. The lighting is soft, casting a golden glow on the crisp white table-cloths, the flickering candlelight adding a comforting warmth. The faint murmur of conversation fills the background, but you feel as if the two of you are in your own little world.

Seungcheol pulls your chair out for you as you sit, and you can't help but feel a little overwhelmed by how natural he makes everything feel, despite the grandeur of the setting. You settle into your seat, your hand instinctively resting on the edge of the table, your fingers brushing the silverware as you glance around. The atmosphere is luxurious, yes, but there’s something reassuring about the way Seungcheol carries himself, like he’s right at home here.

Once the menus are set in front of you, Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate. He scans the offerings with a casual air but glances over at you as you study the menu in your hands. "Don't let the fancy setting fool you. The food here is surprisingly good. I’ve been here more than once.” he says, his voice smooth and low, the confidence he carries in all things evident in the casual mention.

You chuckle, glancing up at him. “Take a lot of your dates here, do you?”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, that signature smirk tugging at his lips. “Only one.”

You can’t help the shy smile that spreads across your face, “Who would have known you’re secretly a softy.”

He leans forward slightly, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. “I’ve got layers, princess. Lots of layers.”

The way he says it, so effortlessly confident, causes your stomach to flutter a lot little. You take a sip of your water, trying not to let him see how much he’s affecting you. “I’m sure. I bet you’re the life of the party at places like this.”

Seungcheol smirks and leans back in his chair, clearly pleased with your reaction. “I can be. But I also know when to appreciate the quiet nights. Sometimes it’s better to enjoy the little things.” His gaze shifts to meet yours then, a quiet intensity in his eyes. It’s a subtle change, but one that makes your heart race.

You swallow, suddenly acutely aware of his gaze. You glance at the menu again, though you haven’t truly registered anything on it. “I’ll take your word for it,” you manage, trying to keep your voice steady.

When the waiter returns to take your order, Seungcheol speaks for both of you, his choices seemingly effortless. You take the time to fully appreciate the man in front of you; the way his red tie is the same hue as your dress, how his white button up stretches across his chest giving an outline of a fit physique further supported in the way his sleeves strain against his arms.

Seungcheol clears his throat, and you realize you’ve been caught red-handed, so you decide to just shrug because yeah, he’s hot. There’s something more serious about the way Seungcheol watches you now, his eyes tracing the curve of your neck, the way the candlelight plays in your hair. It’s as if the energy in the room has shifted, becoming a little more personal.

“I have to admit,” he says after a long pause, his voice softer than before, “I’m having a really good time.”

You laugh, but it’s not from nervousness. It’s a genuine sound. “You’ve been teasing me nonstop for days. I’d hope you at least had a good time after all that hard work.”

His lips curve into that familiar teasing smile. “I’ve been doing more than teasing. You just don’t realize it yet.” He tilts his head slightly. “I’m glad you came, though. Really.”

The words, simple as they are, catch you off guard. It’s one thing for him to be flirty, but for him to show this side of him, this quiet sincerity... you weren’t prepared for it.

Before you can respond, the drinks arrive—a crisp white wine for you, a rich red for him. The clink of glass as it’s set on the table draws you back into the moment. Seungcheol raises his glass, his eyes locked on yours. "To good company," he says, his tone earnest but playful.

You smile and clink your glass against his, the material cool against your fingers. “To good company,” you repeat, your voice just as soft.

The conversation flows easy after that, not forced, but natural. He talks about his favorite restaurants, his travels, and how he’s surprisingly fond of quiet nights. You find yourself opening up more than you intended, sharing stories about your childhood, what drives you, what you love most about your work. He listens intently, his gaze never wavering, his attention fully on you. As if every word matters to him, every sentence is important.

It’s hard not to notice how his gaze shifts from playful to something more thoughtful as you speak, his eyes locking on yours with an unreadable emotion that makes your breath catch every time. You don’t want to admit it, but his attention feels like a constant pull on your thoughts, something that you can’t seem to escape.

When your meal arrives, the soft clink of silverware against the fine china is the only sound for a moment. You both pause, then Seungcheol leans back slightly, eyeing your plate with a mischievous grin. “You’re not going to finish that, are you?” he teases. “I’ll be happy to help.”

You raise an eyebrow, shooting him a playful glance. “I think I’ll manage just fine.”

The two of you laugh easily over the shared dish, the comfortable intimacy of it all settling around you like a familiar blanket. It’s rare to feel so at ease with someone in this kind of setting, but with Seungcheol, it’s effortless.

At some point during dessert, Seungcheol reaches across the table and gently runs his thumb along your hand. The motion is slow, deliberate, and for the first time, he’s not teasing. His touch is softer, and his eyes—god those eyes—hold a sincerity that has you feeling like you’re the only person in the room–in the whole world even.

“You know,” he murmurs, “I’m really glad you agreed to come out with me tonight.”

You hum, feeling a flutter deep in your chest. “So you’ve mentioned.”

After a moment you respond again, “I am too.”

You both sit in silence for a moment, the tension between you now wrapping around your mind and dulling the outside world. The soft clink of glasses, the quiet hum of the restaurant, the distant murmur of conversations... it all fades into the background.

Finally, after a long moment of simply looking at each other, Seungcheol stands and walks around to your side of the table, offering his hand. “Let’s go,” he says, his voice low but steady.

By the time you’re at the door to your apartment, the tension between the two of you is almost suffocating. You invite him inside, and Seungcheol takes a deep breath, “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. I don’t think I’ll be able to hold myself back.”

And when you lean close to his ear and tell him then don’t, it’s like floodgates open. Seungcheol shuts the door behind him, crowding you against it as he leans close to you, hands finding your hips and breath warm against your ear. “Do you even know what you’ve been doing to me all night?” he asks, voice so low it's almost a growl.

You smile, hands trailing up his torso to wrap around his neck, “I guess I clean up well.”

Seungcheol chuckles darkly, experimentally squeezing your hips, “Too bad I’m gonna get you all dirty again.”

When he tilts your chin up to meet his lips, you expect the kiss to be hungry, as desperate as he has you feeling, instead Seungcheol kisses you slowly, tenderly with a sweetness rivaling ambrosia. Your arms wind themselves around his neck, pressing yourself harder against him as if even a second apart would be painful because, quite frankly, that’s how kissing him felt. He takes his time to savor each brush of your lips on his, each sigh that you breathe into his mouth.

Seungcheol looks absolutely ruined. His pupils are blown out, hair messy with your hands in it and red lipstick smeared on his swollen lips. You’re sure you don’t look much different, as the two of you crash back together at the same time. This kiss is how you expected the first to be, hungry, desperate, and hard.

Even when your lungs burn for air your lips chase after him when he separates from you, pupils blown out, hair messy, your lipstick smeared across his mouth, Seungcheol looks absolutely ruined.

The only thing you can hear is breathlessness before you’re tangling your fingers into his hair to crash your lips together again. Seungcheol presses into even more, hands pushing against your door as he intoxicates you once more. The kiss isn’t soft this time, lust taking over and pulling the two of you into each other. His hand moves to your jaw, switching the angle and taking away any last bit of brain function you have because even when kissing you with such passion Seungcheol still isn’t rough with you. He kisses you with a confidence and control that has you whimpering into his lips.

The sound clearly affects him, his tongue prodding at your lips and a small breath leaving him when you open your mouth further. He starts exploring your mouth as his hands move to explore your body, sliding up and down your waist to your thighs, where he squeezes before lifting you up seemingly effortlessly.

“Your room?” Seungcheol murmurs into your mouth. You break apart from him once again, hands on either side of his face, forehead resting against his. “Same layout as your apartment.” You recall, resuming the kiss once more as he carries you over to your bed, gently setting you down on the edge.

He drinks the breathy sound that leaves your mouth when his fingers find the zipper on your back, slowly drawing it down and caressing each new plane of skin revealed to him. You lift your hips, helping him get the dress fully off your body and thrown somewhere on the floor. You try to pull him in closer to you but Seungcheol is frozen. You wiggle impatiently and he just shakes his head at you, a breathy laugh leaving his kiss swollen lips.

“Be patient baby, let me appreciate you, fuck.” The last word comes from a deep place in his chest, an almost guttural sound as his hands gently trace up your legs, hips, waist, settling just below your dark red lace bra that matches your now discarded dress. He looks at you with an awe equal to that of meeting a deity, as if he’d never seen anything more captivating and never will in this lifetime. His gaze makes you flush because you’re just you, sure you put on a pretty matching set but even then you didn’t think he’d be this into it. You apparently verbalize your thoughts unintentionally because Seungcheol looks up at you once more, this time gaze filled with disbelief.

“Just you? Just you? God, you really don’t know how beautiful you are, do you, princess?” The nickname causes a shiver to go down your spine, his hands gently as they move behind you, unclipping your bra. “So perfect, so pretty for me.” His words are accompanied by his hands slowly massaging your now bare chest before he dives into you, mouth ravishing every inch on your skin as he pulls sounds from you. Your fingers find their way to his hair, tugging when he nips at your skin. After thoroughly stealing your breath his lips start making their way down to where you need him most. His nose presses against your core causing an embarrassingly depraved whimper to leave you.

“Fuck princess, you’re so ready for me,” he says as he pulls your panties away from your body, holding them up for you to see the ruined fabric. You don’t have time to think about them as he starts to leave hot open mouthed kisses on your inner thigh before dipping his tongue ever so slightly into your weeping hole. Your hands tug slightly on his hair and seemingly break whatever resolve he has as he starts to devour you. He knows exactly when to slow down, licking your cunt up and sucking in ways that have your head spinning. Your insides clench around nothing, leaking arousal as his lips wrap around your clit. He drinks all of your juices, his tongue collecting your wetness like water.

When he focuses his tongue on your hole, prodding timidly inside you as your walls beg to be stretched, your hands tug harshly at his hair, making him moan right into your cunt, as if he’s enjoying the pull of his hair as you use him for your pleasure. Your orgasm approaches at the speed of light, quicker than you’d ever thought a man could pull from you.

You spasm with each swipe of his tongue that gets faster as he notices how close you are. When he decides to focus on teasing your clit, something snaps in you and you come undone on his tongue.

He practically makes out with your cunt, stretching out your orgasm and making your legs tremble at his sides. You can feel the big smirk across his lips through your pleasure-induced haze. He doesn’t move away even when you start to feel over stimulated, you tug on his hair.

“You can give me one more, right princess?” He looks like something straight out of a porno, mouth covered in you, hair messy between your fingers, how could you possibly resist such a sight, especially when his finger runs up and down your entrance teasingly.

“Please” is all you have to say before he disappears once more between your legs. His fingers start to stretch out your walls, tongue lapping up any juices that escape. The pounding of his fingers inside you drag you close to the edge faster than before, and when his fingers graze one spot you’re seeing stars.

“There, right there fuck Cheol please–” your words get cut off by a breathy moan as he sucks on your clit, vision going blurry as you come on his fingers. When you’re coming down from the high, you watch as he takes said fingers and licks them clean with a groan, “You might just be my new favorite meal, princess.”

Your eyes roll at the comments as you shakily climb to your knees, earning a raised eyebrow from Cheol as you grab his shirt to pull him towards you, “You’re looking way too clothed to be saying that right now.” You mutter, making quick work of his buttons. His laugh turns into a groan when you press a kiss to his neck, sliding his shirt off of him and running your hands across the expanse of his torso. His muscles are firm and defined, and you don’t resist the urge to bend over and softly bite his chest, reveling in the choked sound he makes. His hands grab your head, pulling you into a wet kiss as you pull at his pants and boxers, sliding them down his legs to free his hard cock. As you look at it, you find yourself at a loss for words, long, thick, deliciously curved, this man will be the end of you.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the first taste of his precum as you envelop his head between your lips. A whimper escapes you, and Seungcheol hisses when you run your tongue along the slit, his hands gripping the back of your neck tightly. “Fuck, princess. Thought about your mouth so many times, but never imagined it’d feel this good,” he thrusts his hips up, causing your movements to stutter as you gag. “You can take a bit more, yeah?” his question ends with a groan, his fingers tightening on your hair.

You lower your head further in response, taking in another more of him. His hand on your nape encourages you to move faster, and you swallow around him, eyes fluttering open when he tugs sharply at your hair.

“Fuck, just like that baby, want you to choke on it,” his voice is gravely and low, the sound going straight to your core. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat and your eyes start to water. You pull away to catch your breath, still stroking him as you regain composure.

“Fuck my throat,” you beg ask, “Please”

A smile dangles on the corner of his lips as he guides himself into your mouth, smirking at how your eyes roll back in pleasure. “Well since you asked so nicely.”

You whimper around him, losing your sanity with each thrust of his hips, every tug at your hair. Suddenly he pulls you off his cock, cradling your face, “You fucking love that, don’t you?” he asks with a sweet, syrupy voice, brushing away your tears. There’s no room left for embarrassment, so you nod, closing your mouth around his thumb. He crashes his lips to yours in response before pulling away suddenly.

His eyes widen as he looks around, suddenly looking frantic, “Shit, condoms. Stay here, I’ll quickly get dressed and run to my–”

“Are you clean?”

Seungcheol’s eyes go wide at your suggestion before slowly nodding, “I got tested last month, you’re not suggesting…” His voice trails off.

Have you ever let anyone hit it raw? Absolutely not. Did you have the patience for him to go to his apartment and grab condoms? Also absolutely not.

“I’m on birth control, clean, and way too fucking horny for you to be anywhere except inside me.” You state blankly. He shakes his head in astonishment before climbing on top of you, kissing you once more.

“God, you’re perfect.” he sighs, lining himself up with your wet entrance. He looks at you one more time for approval. “Ready?”

“Please— Fuck!” you nearly scream as his head slides inside you, eyes squeezing shut. Turns out his fingers weren’t enough. His arms shake where they rest on each side of your head, seemingly as affected as you are. He barely pulls out before fucking into you with a little more force. “Shit, you’re so tight, fuck.”

“Cheol please,” you gasp, not quite sure what you're asking for when you latch onto his back, holding him close to you. His thrusts gain strength, and suddenly he’s bottoming inside you. You’ve never felt this full in your life as Seungcheol waits for you to adjust, pussy spasming around him in ways that make his eyes roll back. When you give him the okay he pulls out slowly, so you can feel every vein as it drags on your walls before he fucks back into you.

His pace starts to get faster and the sounds from both of you sound straight from a porno, but you don’t care because all you can think about is how good his dick feels inside you, how full you feel. From this position, you can see the way his face contorts in pleasure, brows furrowed and bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Lowering his head to envelop one of your nipples between his lips and sucks hard. “Fuck princess, you’re so perfect shit– pretty pussy made for me, huh?”

“For you,” you pant, thoughts reduced to just the feeling of him inside you. “All for you Cheol.”

His mouth curves into a soft smile as he drives into you again, this time even deeper. Each thrust has you gasping, your body arching off the bed to meet his. Seugcheol’s hand slides down to grasp your hip, squeezing the soft skin and pulling you harder against him, impossibly closer.

“You’re perfect princess, my perfect pretty baby,” he slips his free hand between your bodies to find your clit, and the moment his fingers make contact with it, you can’t help but whine. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he repeats, more to himself than to you, voice strained as he tries to hold himself back, chasing your release before his own.

The pressure inside you builds up, tightening, and you’re sure you look like a mess, sweaty and sticky, but the way he looks at you makes you forget everything else. “Cheol, I’m—”

He picks up speed, snapping his hips faster. “I’ve got you baby, let go for me. I’ll take care of you,” his pace becomes erratic, digging his fingers into the softness of your thighs as the headboard keeps slamming against the wall (thank god his room is the only one next to yours). Your body obeys him, a gast tearing through you as you moan Seungcheols name like a prayer. “That’s it, fuck, that’s it,” he doesn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm. His eyes snap to your face, his expression as wrecked as you feel. “Tell me where—.”

“Inside.”

“Shit, are you sure?”

“Fill me up Cheol, please. Want it so bad.”

He’s not strong enough to deny you such a thing. He buries himself inside you, groaning your name as his cock twitches and paints your walls. He ruts against you, his body trembling against yours before he collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms and kissing you gently. You almost cry when he slips out of you, hating the feeling of being empty as he finds your bathroom and returns with a towel to clean you up, eventually lulling you to sleep.

The first thing you register when you wake up is warmth— you soft sheets tangled around your limbs, the lingering scent of cologne woven into the fabric. The second thing is weight, the steady rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek, an arm draped around your waist, fingers splayed possessively over your hip.

Your eyes flutter open, and for a moment, you’re disoriented. The golden morning light filters through the curtains, casting lazy patterns across the room, but it takes another second for reality to catch up.

Seungcheol.

His presence is unmistakable, the solid warmth of him anchoring you even before you tilt your head up to look at him. His face is relaxed in sleep, soft in a way you don’t think you’ve seen before. His lashes rest against his cheeks, lips slightly parted, one hand still gripping your waist as if unconsciously keeping you close .

You take a slow breath, careful not to wake him just yet, allowing yourself the luxury of watching him like this. The confidence he always carries, the sharp smirks and teasing remarks—none of it is present in this moment. Right now, he’s just Seungcheol.

Your fingers move instinctively, tracing the curve of his nose, the contour of his lips. His grip on your waist tightens slightly in response, and you hear the low, raspy sound of his voice.

“Mmm.” A deep inhale, then a groggy mumble. “It’s too early.”

You laugh softly, then for a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing, the quiet of the morning stretching between you. His fingers skim along your spine absentmindedly, tracing patterns into your skin. It’s dangerously intimate, this kind of quiet closeness, and you find yourself holding your breath as you wait for him to say something.

When he finally does, his voice is softer than before. “Did you sleep well?”

You nod against him. “Yeah. You?”

His thumb brushes over your hip, slow and deliberate. “Best sleep I’ve had in a while.”

There’s something unspoken in his words, something that lingers between the two of you, but neither of you address it. Not yet. Instead, you stay like this for a while longer, wrapped in each other. Eventually, though, reality has to creep back in. You sigh, shifting slightly. “We should probably get up.”

Seungcheol groans dramatically, pulling you tighter against him. “Or we could just stay like this.”

You laugh, pushing at his chest again, this time with more force. “You have things to do, and I—”

“—have to stay here and cuddle me,” he finishes smoothly, peeking one eye open again and giving you a peck on the lips. “Sounds like the perfect plan, right?”

You roll your eyes but don’t immediately pull away, allowing yourself one more stolen moment of peace before finally sitting up. Seungcheol watches you, his gaze heavy-lidded, filled with something you can’t quite name. Then, just as you’re about to move off the bed, his hand catches your wrist, stopping you.

You glance back at him, and his expression is unreadable for a beat before he smirks, tugging you down just enough to brush his lips against yours.

“Morning,” he murmurs, and it feels dangerously close to something more.

You swallow, the weight of the moment settling over you, but instead of overthinking it, you smile. “Morning.”

A week later you find yourself lying in the same bed, missing the man who had laid with you. The two of you haven’t seen each other since—your schedules never quite aligning—but the texts haven’t stopped. If anything, they’ve only gotten more frequent and flirtatious.

Cheol: You avoiding me or just giving me time to miss you? You: Are those the only options? Cheol: Unless you’d rather admit you can’t stop thinking about me. You: You’re so full of yourself. Cheol: And you love it.

You hate how much you do love it.

You turn and nearly walk into two people standing in the hallway.

“Whoa—careful,” a deep voice says as a steady hand catches your elbow.

It’s Seungcheol. Of course, it’s Seungcheol. He’s standing in front of you, that familiar grin spreading across his face. Standing next to him is a man you instantly recognize—Wonwoo. His calm, sharp features are exactly as you remember, though he seems a little more refined since college. You school your expression, feigning polite curiosity.

“Hey,” you manage, adjusting your grip on the bag.

“Hey yourself,” Seungcheol says, his grin widening. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Uh, I live here,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the sudden thumping in your chest.

Wonwoo clears his throat, glancing between the two of you. “Cheol, are you going to introduce me, or should I do it myself?”

“Right.” Seungcheol gestures toward him. “This is Wonwoo—friend, buddy, compadre, if you will, and frequent pain in my ass. Wonwoo, this is…” He pauses, “Her.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow but extends a hand to you. “Nice to meet you, ‘Her.’ Or, nice to see you again, I guess.”

You laugh, shaking his hand. “Nice to see you too. I’d remind you of my real name, but apparently Seungcheol forgot it.”

“Hardly, you’re the only thing he’s been talking about recently. You were friends with Kwan’, right? I think I crashed your study sessions a few times.”

The mention of Seungkwan brings a smile to your face, he’s now roommates with Jeonghan, even though he’s grown so much since you first met him the younger boy will always have a special place in your heart, “Yeah probably, he always had someone tagging along with him. That kid was a real social butterfly.” Wonwoo opens his mouth to respond but Seungcheol cuts him off.

“Yeah, great, glad you guys are close.” Seungcheol crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his head as he studies you. ”Small world and such.”

Your stomach twists slightly, but you keep your expression neutral. “Yeah, crazy coincidence. It’s almost like we went to the same school.” you say sarcastically, “So, what games will you be playing today?”

Seungcheol narrows his eyes at you, “Who said anything about playing games?”

You swear your heart stops at that moment.

“Oh-uh,” Think, think, think, “Well the walls don’t do a very good job at masking your swearing at night, just assumed that’s what was going on.”

Wonwoo, ever the observant one, stays quiet, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—like he’s connecting dots that you’d rather he didn’t.

“Sure,” Seungcheol responds, still watching you closely. “Anyways, we should get going.”

You nod, stepping back toward your door. “Yeah, it was nice seeing you both. I should put these away before they melt.”

“Uh huh,” Seungcheol mutters, stepping aside. Wonwoo simply nods politely, his expression calm but unreadable.

Once inside your apartment, you set the groceries down with a sigh, your mind racing. You didn’t slip up that bad, right? At least you had covered your mistake pretty well? Still, there was something about the way Seungcheol looked at you– like he was trying to piece together a puzzle– that left a sinking feeling in your stomach.

Another few days pass before you hear from Seungcheol outside of the usual teasing texts. You’re curled up on your couch when your phone buzzes.

Cheol: So, are you going to keep eavesdropping through the walls, or are you finally going to come over and play?

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

You: Who says I want to play?

Cheol: You wound me. But fine, if you’re too scared to lose, I understand.

You: Oh, please. Like you could actually beat me at anything.

Cheol: Prove it. Tonight. My place.

You hesitate for a moment. It’s one thing to comment on him playing games, but actually playing with him? You can’t be sure you won’t slip up again. But then again, you can’t let him think you’re scared.

You: Fine. What time?

Cheol: 8. Wonwoo will be there. And a few others. Don’t be late.

You stare at your screen for a moment before shaking your head. There’s no way this is a good idea, but you’re already getting up to change.

At 8:03, you knock on Seungcheol’s door. He opens it almost immediately, as if he had been waiting for you.

“You’re late,” he says, pouting slightly.

“It’s literally been three minutes, you big baby.”

“Three minutes too long.” He steps aside, letting you in. “Come on, the others are already here.”

His apartment is warm and filled with an easy kind of chaos. Wonwoo is lounging on the couch, a controller in hand, looking perfectly unbothered as he glances up at you. “She showed.”

“She did,” Seungcheol confirms, closing the door behind you.

At the other end of the room, four other guys are gathered, already deep into conversation. Seungcheol gestures toward them. “These are the guys. That’s Jihoon—" he points to the one sitting cross-legged on the floor, focused on a laptop. Jihoon barely glances up, offering only a short nod. “Vernon—” the boy next to Jihoon gives a small wave, expression relaxed. “Mingyu—” the tall one grins and throws an arm around Seungcheol’s shoulder. “And Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung—who you recognize from random campus events back in college—immediately brightens. “Wait, I know you! You were friends with Seungkwan, right?”

You laugh, nodding. “Yeah, that was me.”

“Small world, huh?”

Seungcheol claps his hands together. “Alright, now that introductions are out of the way, let’s get down to business.”

“Games,” Mingyu supplies helpfully.

“Winning,” Seungcheol corrects, looking directly at you.

You raise an eyebrow. “You wish.”

He grins. “We’ll see.”

The first game is an intense round of Mario Kart, and to no one’s surprise, Wonwoo dominates. “You guys suck,” he mutters as he crosses the finish line first yet again (as if you and Seungcheol weren’t on his tail the whole time).

“Okay, okay,” Seungcheol says, waving a hand. “Let’s switch it up. How about teams?”

You find yourself paired with Jihoon, who simply shrugs. “You ready?”

You smirk. “Let’s kick some ass.”

“Hell yeah.”

The match starts, and it’s immediately clear that Seungcheol is more competitive than he let on. The room is filled with laughter, shouts of victory, and groans of defeat. Soonyoung nearly falls off the couch at one point, yelling dramatically when your car pulls ahead of him.

Through it all, you feel yourself relaxing, the nervous energy from earlier fading away. When you glance at Seungcheol, he’s already watching you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he grins again.

As the night stretches on, the games gradually give way to easy conversation and laughter, drinks appearing in everyone's hands. Mingyu pours shots for everyone, insisting on a toast to new friends, while Soonyoung—already a little tipsy—challenges Jihoon to a battle of wits (which mostly consists of Jihoon sighing heavily while Soonyoung rambles on).

You find yourself nestled into the couch, comfortably warm from the drinks, the buzz of conversation wrapping around you. Seungcheol drops down next to you, draping an arm along the back of the couch. “Having fun?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

You let out a quiet laugh. “Guess you’re not as unbearable as I thought.”

“High praise.” He grins, taking a sip from his glass.

Eventually, the night winds down, one by one, the others heading out or claiming their spots to crash for the night. You stretch, standing up to grab your things. Seungcheol watches you with an amused glint in his eyes. “Need someone to walk you home?”

You raise an eyebrow, a huffed laugh leaving you. “What, for the whole two feet I need to walk?”

“Exactly,” he says, standing up and smirking. “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you in the five steps it takes to get there.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips as he walks you to your door anyways. As you turn the key to your apartment, you look back at him, maybe it’s the alcohol in your system, or maybe it’s the confidence from meeting his friends that has you leaning up to place a soft kiss on his lips, “Goodnight, gamer boy.”

You realize your mistake the next morning, hoping he didn’t.

Still, life goes on, months pass by with you and Seungcheol seeing each other but never giving what you have a label. Your affection for the man starts to pile more by the day along with your guilt, feeling as if you’re betraying him with every brush of your skin on his. Tonight you’re curled up comfortably by his side, his TV playing some rom-com in the background as the two of you feast on fried chicken and soju, a perfect evening. You don’t know when your conversation became talking about your childhood, but you don’t care as Seungcheol tells you a story of the messes he got into with his older brother.

“You’ve always been a trouble-maker haven’t you?” you exclaim, kissing the tip of his nose. He giggles, humming in response and you admire the way it makes his face light up, warming your heart. Everything is so perfect, the way his arms wrap around you, the way the alcohol makes your brain slightly fuzzy. How he presses kisses all over your face as you laugh, finally getting a real kiss pressed to your lips as he lays you down on his couch. Sweet, gentle, and full of an emotion you don’t want to name. When he pulls back the same emotion fills his eyes.

“I really like you, you know?” he says shyly. You nod in response, smiling up at him. “We should make things official then, yeah?” You’re about to nod when the guilt you’ve been suppressing comes back stronger than ever, “I- I’m sorry.” You tell him. Before he can question you further, you stand up, rathering your stuff, “I’m really sorry Cheol.” You say once again before leaving his apartment, too drunk and too scared to face him.

The next day, as much as you try to avoid him, you run into Seungcheol in the hallway and he stops you. His teeth worry at his bottom lip, brow furrowed, “We need to talk about last night. Did I do something? I thought we– I thought things were going well but– just.. Tell me what I can do. Please?”

His words shatter any resolve you had to keep things from him.

“I know you stream.” the words fall from your mouth and make the man in front of you go ridged, “I mean, I’ve watched you a few times– more than a few– I found you a few months before you moved in and didn’t really know what to do.” You wring your hands together, too nervous to look him in the eye.

A few moments pass before he replies, “So what, you just planned on never telling me? Even after we started hanging out? After we… after everything?” His voice sounds defeated, broken. You shake your head but no sound comes out of your mouth. What could you say? Had you ever planned on telling him? You never knew things would get this far, if you did would you have told him sooner. You can feel Seungcheols heavy gaze on you, prompting you to speak, “I— I don’t know Cheol. I’m really sorry I just- I don’t know.”

He nods in response, and you can practically feel your heart drop, “Give me some time.” Is all he says before walking away, leaving you feeling empty.

Another week passes without a word from Seungcheol. Then another. Guilt is eating you from the inside, you don’t know what Seungcheol is thinking, if he’ll ever talk to you again. You can’t say you’d blame him if he didn’t. Once again at work you start slipping up, eventually Minghao decides that enough is enough.

“Spill, now.” He says when you take your usual seat across from him. You try to convince him to wait until Jeonghan arrives but he’s firm in his insistence.

“Tell me what's going on, from the beginning. No lies, no excuses, no ‘I’ll figure it out on my own’ bullshit.” And so you do. You start from the beginning, Jeonghan's recommendation, the comfort it had brought you until your new neighbor appeared, the dates, the late-nights, the avoidance. You spill your guts out and Minghao listens. When you finish your tangent he just shakes his head.

“I know I’m an idiot Hao, but what was I supposed to do?” You defend yourself, from what exactly, you aren’t sure. Your throat starts to tighten and Minghao places his hand atop yours on the table, “Hey, it’s going to be okay. You’re overthinking it.” He talks the panic out of you like he has so many times before, guides your breathing and soothes your nerves.

“Just because you’re an idiot doesn’t mean you can’t fix things.” His statement makes you laugh, his hand squeezing yours reassuringly. “Trust me, I’m sure you and your little gamer boy can work things out. Just tell him the truth, the same way you just told it to me.” You nod in response. The rest of the break the two of you talk like you always do, laughing and jabbing your coworkers as Minghao just rolls his eyes at you.

“Y/n?”

Your name from across the room breaks the comfortable bubble you’d been in with your friend. Seungcheol stands a few feet away from your table, betrayal evident in his eyes. You stand up to go towards him, but his scoff makes you stop in your tracks. He turns on his heel and walks out.

“What are you doing? Go after him, dumbass.” Broken out of your trance you hurry out the door, ignoring how the cold wind bites at your skin, your jacket left behind you. Seungcheol’s back is towards you as you chase after him, grabbing his arm and forcing him to face you.

“Wait a second, I-”

You’re cut off when he yanks his arm from your grip. Your chest aches when you see the look in his eyes. It’s unfamiliar, the face of the man you once found comfort in contorted into something else, something that scared you.

“Don’t start with me Y/n,” his tone is harsh, cutting through the cold air straight into your chest, “I trusted you, you know that? I really trusted you, I thought- it doesn’t even matter because you turned out to be the same as everyone else. This is all, what, some sort of twisted game? You wanted to get into my life and have a piece of me like every other crazy bitch that watches me, right? Well congradu-fucking-lations, you win. Your sick game is over now.” His eyes looked at you, filled with anger, betrayal, hatred, “And to think, after I started to believe that maybe, just maybe you had a reason to lie to me, that you actually cared about me, I see you with another guy. You can’t even go one week without finding a new boy-toy to play with, can you? You’re just another attention-seeking whore.”

His words hit you like a slap in the face. Here you are, freezing your ass off to try and explain yourself all for what? Finally all the emotions that have been boiling under the surface start to bubble over, “Excuse me?” Your voice comes out dangerously calm, seemingly stopping Seungcheol’s next sentence.

“First of all,” you clarify, “you’re the one who moved in next to me, let's not get things twisted. And yeah, I didn’t tell you I knew who you were, you wanna know why? Because the first time I saw you it looked like you were about to have a nervous breakdown because I recognized you. Of fucking course I said I knew you from college, I wasn’t about to make you more uncomfortable than you already were! I haven’t watched a single video since that day out of respect for you and your privacy. You are the one who kept talking to me, you are the one who asked me out, you are the one who kept doing things that would make it impossible for me to not start falling for you. A whore? I’ve been so worried about you that I make stupid mistakes in the simplest fucking tasks at work and my coworkers started to get worried, my friends started to get worried. So I finally tell them what's going on and when they convince me to come clean and explain everything to you, you decide to jump to conclusions. You can say whatever you want, Choi Seungcheol, but don’t you dare think for a second that I don’t care about you.” Hot tears stream down your face, but you don’t care, the words come pouring out from you, and you watch as Seungcheols expression morphs from anger, looking away before you can see what it turns into. His hand reaches out for yours but you pull away, not looking at him because you know if you do it’ll change your mind. “I hope you can find an attention-seeking whore to play with Seungcheol because I can’t do this. Not anymore.”

When you return to the cafe, Minghao doesn’t scold you for letting your emotions control you, offering instead to cover for you so you could go home but you refuse. Because what is home, you think, without Seungcheol.

You stay at Jeonghans for the next few days, calling out sick from work to instead watch dramas with Seungkwan. He doesn’t question your sudden appearance, nor the tears that fall whenever the drama leads would interact, which you’re thankful for. He gives you a steady shoulder to cry on and a reliable source of laughter to cheer you up. The two of you are currently huddled under a blanket, watching as Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams run towards each other in the rain. Your hands are holding his tightly under the blanket as you both squeal when they kiss. When the movie ends tears stream down both of your faces and Seungkwan bumps your shoulder lightly, “Whatever you’re going through must be serious, you never cry during The Notebook.”

You roll your eyes at his statement, laughing along with him as you turn the T.V. off. He turns to face you, suddenly serious and you know what's coming.

“You’re not kicking me out, are you?” The smile accompanying your joke doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and Seungkwan notices with a sigh.

“You know I would never, but you also know you can’t avoid going back forever. Eventually you’ll need to go back to your apartment.” He gives a pointed look at your too-big hoodie and sweats courtesy of Jeonghan. “Listen Y/n, you know I love you but–”

“I know Kwan’, I know. I’m just scared. Even if I know you’re right. I don’t think I’m ready to face him yet.” You cut him off, tears welling in your eyes once more. Seungkwan clasps your hands in his.

“Remember my senior year when I had a mental breakdown and called you at ass-O’-clock in the morning?” You nod, the memory vague but there. He continues, “I went over to your house and told you I was scared, that suddenly everything felt so real with job applications, interviews, and graduation getting closer. I didn’t know what to do, I wasn’t ready to be an adult yet and suddenly life was being shoved in my face and I didn’t know how to cope. Do you remember what you said to me?” A small smile forms on your face among the tears, Seungkwan giving you a reassuring one in response.

“There are some things you’ll never be ready for, but the clock still ticks and the Earth still spins, no matter how terrified you are. You just have to do it scared.”

You recite the words with him, words your parents had told you when you were eighteen and unprepared for college life, words you lived by since then, that had gotten you through your darkest times and happiest moments. Words that you had somehow lost in the chaos of adulting.

You wipe your face on your sleeve, small laughs replacing your sobs as you look at your lap, “Thanks Kwan.”

You don’t need to say anything else, he knows, like he always does. Like all of your friends always do because at the end of the day no matter how tough things get you will always have an amazing support system full of amazing friends. No man could change that, no amount of distance could break the bond your little entourage have. Because they, you realize, are home.

Seungkwan wraps you in a warm embrace as you tear up some more, not sad this time. The two of you rock back and forth for a while before pulling away and making eye contact.

“Tomorrow?”

“Can’t we wait until the weekend?”

“Fine, you stubborn pain in the ass. Saturday. Morning.”

You groan in response but don’t bother to hide the smile on your lips.

Saturday morning comes faster than you’d like. The moment your eyes flutter open, reality crashes into you like a wave, heavy and unrelenting. For a fleeting moment, you consider burying yourself deeper into the blankets, pretending that you could stay in Jeonghan’s guest room forever. But Seungkwan’s words from the night before echo in your mind. You just have to do it scared.

With a deep breath, you push yourself out of bed. Jeonghan is already in the kitchen, sipping his coffee with an all-knowing smirk when you walk in. "So, today’s the big day, huh?"

You roll your eyes, reaching for the mug he’s already set out for you. “You act like I’m about to get married.”

“Considering the dramatics, it might as well be.”

You groan, dropping your head onto the counter. “Can you not?”

Jeonghan chuckles, patting the top of your head before walking away. “Just rip the bandaid off, Y/n. You’ll feel better once you do.”

You’re not sure about that, but you know he’s right.

By the time you reach your apartment complex, your heart is pounding so loudly that you can hear it in your ears. The familiar hallway feels foreign, your feet carrying you toward your door on autopilot. You turn the key in your apartment door, the familiar creak of the hinges sounding louder than usual in the quiet hallway. The space is just as you left it—dim, still, and eerily empty. It feels foreign, like you don’t quite belong here anymore. Maybe because, for the past few days, you didn’t. With a heavy sigh, you drop your bag by the door and toe off your shoes, making your way to the couch. The exhaustion from carrying the weight of everything settles into your bones. You lean back, eyes fluttering shut, trying to steady your breathing.

It takes a few days for you to settle back into your apartment. At first, everything feels too quiet. You find yourself reaching for your phone to text Seungcheol before remembering the way things ended. You distract yourself with work, with cleaning, with anything to keep your mind from wandering to the ache in your chest. But no matter how much you try to push it down, it lingers.

You haven’t seen him since that night. You don’t expect to. Instead you go back to how things had been before he moved in, ignoring the ache in your chest whenever you hear him through your thin apartment walls.

Some nights, you lie awake, staring at the photo you had taken with him on your first date, wishing to go back in time. You listen to the faint sounds of his life bleeding through the walls, wondering if he does the same, or if he threw the picture away all together. The murmur of his voice on the phone, the clink of dishes in the sink, the low hum of his TV. It’s almost cruel how easily he seems to slip back into routine while you feel like you’re unraveling. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. That you’ll get used to it. But the silence in your own apartment is deafening, and the space he left behind feels colder than it should.

You start wearing headphones more often. It helps, a little. Drowns out the ghost of his presence. Keeps you from wondering if he ever pauses, mid-conversation, mid-laugh, mid-breath, thinking about you. You don’t let yourself hope.

But late one night, when you’re standing at your sink rinsing out a mug, you hear it—your name. Soft, hesitant. Muffled by the wall but unmistakable. Your breath catches, fingers tightening around the ceramic. You wait, straining to hear more. A part of you wants to move closer, to press your ear against the wall, to pretend that he’s just on the other side, that nothing has changed. But then you hear footsteps, the creak of his door opening.

And then nothing.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You tell yourself it was nothing.

But you don’t wear your headphones that night.

The next morning, you wake up with the imprint of your phone against your cheek, the playlist you put on last night long finished. Your first thought is that you dreamed it—his voice, his hesitation. That your mind is just playing tricks on you because it wants so badly to believe he still thinks about you.

But then, as you move through your morning routine, you catch yourself hesitating near the front door. You don’t know why. Maybe it’s the weight in your chest, the feeling of stepping into the world once again without him waiting to greet you. You push the feelings aside.

When you finally open the door, you nearly step on something– small and familiar, sitting right in the center of your doorstep.

Your scarf.

You freeze. Your fingers twitch at your sides.

The scarf you’d left at his place weeks ago, back when you still had a place there too. It’s neatly folded, like he took care with it, but there’s no note, no explanation. Just the scarf. You swallow hard, your fingers tightening around the fabric as you pick it up. It still smells like his apartment, like the faint trace of his cologne, like something that used to feel like home.

You stand there too long, cold air slipping into your apartment through the open door, numbing your fingers, your face. Your mind races with all the possibilities—did he find it by accident? Did he mean to leave it for you himself? Did he hesitate, just like you are now?

You don’t know what to do with it.

So you do what you always do—you tuck it away, shove it into the depths of your closet like you can bury the feelings that come with it.

But that night, when you curl into bed, your hand drifts toward the closet door. Before you can stop yourself, you pull the scarf back out. Hold it in your lap. Press it between your fingers. Like maybe, if you close your eyes, you can pretend—for just a little while—that you never had lied to him in the first place.

The scarf stays on your nightstand after that. You don’t wear it. You don’t even move it. But you don’t put it back in the closet, either.

It’s stupid, you tell yourself. It’s just fabric. Just something that happened to be left behind. He probably didn’t think twice about it. He was just returning something that wasn’t his, nothing more.

You keep going to work, settling disputes with coworkers who seem to have nothing better to do than fight (you ignore the way you almost reach for your phone to listen to Seungcheols voice as you work).

You keep meeting Jeonghan and Minghao on Wednesdays, occasionally Seungkwan joins the three of you (you ignore the way they glance at you with pity).

Everything is where it’s supposed to be (you ignore how everything you do feels like it’s missing something).

It’s late, and you’re lying in bed, not really asleep, not really awake. The walls between your apartments have always been thin—thin enough that sometimes you can catch pieces of his voice, low and tired, when he’s on the phone late at night.

But this time, there’s no conversation. Just footsteps. The sound of a drawer opening, then closing. A pause. And then, so quiet you almost miss it—your name.

Your stomach twists.

You tell yourself it was just in your imagination, don’t let yourself dwell on why he might have said that because he didn’t (you ignore how you know that’s a lie).

The next morning, you wake up feeling like you never really slept at all. Your body is heavy, your mind clouded with something you don’t want to name. You go about your day like normal—like nothing happened. Like you didn’t hear him say your name. Like it didn’t send a crack through the carefully constructed distance you’ve been trying to build.

But it lingers.

You don’t mean to, but you start listening to him more. Not on purpose—at least, that’s what you tell yourself—but your ears tune in anyway. You notice the little things: the way he moves around his apartment, the late nights he stays up, the mornings he leaves just a little later than he used to.

And then one evening, when you step out of your apartment to grab something from the corner store, you nearly run into him.

You freeze.

So does he.

For a moment, neither of you speak. He looks… tired. Like he hasn’t been sleeping well either. Like maybe he’s been feeling the same weight pressing down on him. Your throat is tight. You should say something. You should walk away.

But then his gaze flickers, just briefly, to your door. To you.

When he starts to turn around Seungkwan’s reminder rings in your head.

Do it scared.

And before you can stop yourself, before you can think better of it, his name slips past your lips, “Seungcheol.”

His breath catches.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself, “We should talk.”

Seungcheol freezes, hand hovering above his door knob for a second before dropping to his side. When he looks up at you his eyes are full of so many emotions it makes your heart ache; shame, regret, hurt, hesitation. It almost makes you change your mind, but then you see it, the tiniest sliver of hope behind his gaze, that helps you keep going, inviting him into your apartment. He hesitates before entering, you walk in after him, closing the door.

Seungcheol doesn’t sit, so you don’t either. Instead, you stand near the couch, gripping your hands together to keep them from shaking. It’s silent for a moment, you aren’t used to his presence anymore.

“I meant what I said before,” you begin hesitantly. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

His gaze flickers with something unreadable. He responds softly, voice sounding almost broken, “Then why didn’t you just tell me?”

You exhale, the numbed frustration and regret rising again in your chest. “At first I thought it wasn’t important, you were just my neighbor, and you looked nervous when we first met so I figured you’d rather stay anonymous. But then we started to get to know each other and suddenly I was keeping a huge secret and I didn’t know what to do. I-,” You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and stop your rambling, “I was scared. I didn’t want to ruin whatever this was—whatever we were. I thought if I told you the truth, you’d push me away.” You let out a small, humorless laugh. “Looks like I managed to do that anyway.”

Seungcheol sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. “You should’ve given me the chance to decide how I felt about it instead of lying to me.”

You nod slowly, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. “I know,” you whisper. “I should’ve told you the truth. I should have done so many things differently, but I didn’t, and I hurt you.” You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his eyes even though it makes your stomach twist. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Seungcheol looks at you, nodding, “Me too. For what I said.”

“Don’t worry, I get it, you had every right to be mad.” You protest.

He flinches, shaking his head. “Not like that.” His hands ball into fists at his sides before he sighs, running one through his hair. “Yeah, you should have told me. And yeah, it hurt. But what I said to you?” His jaw clenches. “That wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve that.” His voice is thick with guilt, his brows furrowed in frustration—at himself, not at you as he looks away. “Did you- when we would be together who were you thinking of?”

You tilt your head in confusion, so he elaborates, “I guess what I’m asking is if you just thought of me as S.coups, if you thought it was just another game.” When he meets your gaze once more it’s as if all the confidence was drained from him, he looked unsure, raw vulnerability in the way he bites his lip and wrings his hands together.

“It was never a game, not for me at least. To me you’ve always been Seungcheol, even when you first moved in, I didn’t really think about your job other than being worried that I would make you uncomfortable by knowing. Even when I’d watch you play, when you were having fun you were Seungcheol playing games like you used to during class. On days you didn’t seem as into it you were Seungcheol doing your job.”

You hear Seungcheol inhale sharply as you continue, “Back then and now you mean so much to me, I never meant to hurt you, but I did. And I don’t expect you to forgive me just because I apologized. If you still hate me that fi–”

You’re cut off by lips on yours, gentle and nervous until you kiss back. After so long it feels like the world finally clicks into place, a hand sliding into yours gently as your tears mix with his.

When you separate Seungcheol’s hand grips yours tightly, eyes still closed as if he’s scared you’ll be gone when he opens them. “I don’t hate you, Y/n.” His voice is softer now, barely a whisper. “I never did.” This time you lean into him, pressing your lips together once more. His free hand moves to cradle your face, yours lightly gripping the front of his shirt. Muttered ‘I missed you’s are scattered between kisses as you make your way to the couch, placing yourself on Seungcheol’s lap when he sits. Neither of you can help the tears on your faces.

After who-knows-how-long you’re still in Seungcheol’s embrace, his strong arms wrapped around you, drawing slow patterns on your back as the two of you sway back and forth gently. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, a quiet rhythm that makes you feel like you can finally breathe easy. You don’t know how long you sit there, tangled together on your couch, his arms around you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go. Maybe he is. Maybe you are too.

“Thank you. For coming back.” Seungcheol murmurs into your hair. His voice is soft, careful, like he’s afraid of saying too much, of pushing too hard.

You shift slightly, just enough to look up at him. His eyes are still damp, lashes clumped together, and the sight of it twists something in your chest. “Always,” you whisper. “I’ll be here as long as you still want me.”

His breath shudders as he exhales. “I do.” He presses his forehead against yours, voice thick with emotion. “Always did, always will.”

You close your eyes, soaking in the warmth of him, the weight of his hands resting at your waist, grounding you. “No more hiding. No more running.” you say softly.

Seungcheol nods, his grip tightening like he’s holding onto something fragile. “No more running,” he agrees. For a while, neither of you speak. You just exist in the quiet, in the warmth of each other, letting the weight of everything settle. Eventually, Seungcheol chuckles, breath fanning against your cheek. “I don’t want to move,” he admits.

You smile, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “Then don’t.”

His lips twitch into a grin. “You’ll let me stay?”

You pretend to consider it, tilting your head. “Depends. Are you planning on stealing all the blankets again?”

Seungcheol laughs, the sound vibrating against your skin. “No promises.”

You sigh dramatically. “I suppose I’ll allow it.”

His arms tighten around you, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to yours. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I don’t think I can let go just yet.”

Neither do you.

“You ready to lose again?” Seungcheol asks, raising an eyebrow, the usual playful confidence in his voice.

You roll your eyes, scoffing. “In your dreams, Cheol.”

It’s silly, how normal it is, how easy it was to slip into the rhythm of this again. Your friends around you in his apartment, all laughing and having fun.

"Hoshi, I’m going to kick your ass!" Seungkwan yells from across the room, his voice high-pitched with mock frustration.

"You've got a lot of nerve talking, considering you're in last place," Soonyoung teases back, his grin wide and infectious.

"I can’t believe we’re playing this game again," Mingyu groans dramatically, even though he’s clearly enjoying himself despite the complaints.

"You’re just mad because I hit you with a shell. Like this," Jihoon shoots another shell at Mingyu’s cart, the corner of his lips curving upward as he hears Mingyu’s swears.

Seungcheol laughs, his usual confidence shining through as he skillfully handles his character. Every now and then, his hand would brush yours, and in those moments, it felt like time had slowed just enough for you to savor the simple joy of being surrounded by friends—by family.

"You’re about to lose!" Jeonghan said, voice full of amusement as he leaned over to look at the screen.

Seungcheol shot him a mock glare. "You’re not even playing."

But despite the teasing, the tension was long gone. No more waiting for the right moment to speak, no more hiding. It isn’t perfect—nothing ever is—but it's real. And that's enough.

You lean back against the couch, your head resting against Seungcheol’s shoulder as you pull into fourth place with a groan.

Seungcheol leans in, nudging your shoulder lightly with his. “So, when do you plan on winning?” he teases, his grin wider than before.

You glare at him, but the corners of your mouth betray you, lifting into a smile you can’t fight. “I’ll win when I’m good and ready, it’s not my fault my boyfriend is a professional.” you reply, your voice playful as you pout at the man in front of you. He laughs and presses a kiss to your lips, “Boyfriend, huh? You’re trying to use my weaknesses against me aren’t you?” You look up at him with the best innocent face you can manage, “That depends, my dear, is it working?”

“Maybe.”

“Ugh, get a room, you two.” Seungkwan’s complaints cause a wave of laughter as Seungcheol just pulls you closer into his side, sticking his tongue out at the younger boy. The teasing continues for a while longer, but you can feel how the warmth in the room isn’t just coming from the shared space or the game. It’s the laughter, the familiarity, and that makes a smile spread onto your lips. No distance, no walls. Just warmth, joy, and the comfort of being surrounded by people who cared. People who you knew would be by your side through thick and thin because the clocks still tick and the Earth still spins, time moves forward with them by your side to move with it.

A/N: Wooo she’s finally done!! Thx @orngejuic for being my beta reader ilysm.

#seventeen #svt #choi seungcheol #seventeen seungcheol #svt imagines #svt x reader #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol smut #seungcheol x reader #angst #seungcheol angst #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol imagines #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan

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cultkinkcoven · 6 months ago

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Super easy and cheap devotional acts for beginners.

A nice cup and some clean, fresh, water on the altar can often be all you need for daily offerings

Grow a plant on your altar, use your weekly watering as a devotional act. Hermes is currently helping my peace lily grow :)

Draw their sigil on your nails and then paint over them with nail polish that matches their color correspondences.

If you can’t acquire alcohol for your deities (wine, vodka etc) because you’re too young, white vinegar also works. The quality we’re looking for is the purification aspect. White vinegar is natural, antibacterial and never goes bad. You can leave it on your altar until it evaporates if you want.

If you work with a deity involved with self love like Aphrodite, investing a little more time into your skin care and scent can be very rewarding. Nothing super boujie, it can be as simple as getting some nice smelling lotion at the dollar store.

Food and water offerings don’t have to be external, especially if you’re in the broom closet and don’t have an altar. Reserve the first bite of your meal for your deity. Savour its taste while you think about them. Pour yourself a crisp glass of cold water and guzzle it as a devotional act.

Use a washable or dry erase marker to draw sigils on your shower wall for bath rituals. It’ll come right off when you’re done.

Tea bags are just bags of dried herbs. You can use these as offerings or draw sigils on them and burn them for witchcraft. No one is ever suspicious about a little tea. Adding a tea bag to your water offerings also gives them an extra kick.

A couple dollars at the thrift store will take you a long way. I love thrifting items because they’re usually well loved. I especially like thrifting spirituality books that past practitioners have written in. Sometimes my deities communicate with me through the books that are available on any given day. If I was just talking to Leviathan about the power of water and I see a book about Hydromancy, I know that he’s sending me a sign. Like, 90% of the books Lucifer has sent me popped up at the thrift store. Most expensive one was $7.99. (and I tag swapped it for 2.99 😊 thanks, Hermes-

and on this note, literally steal. Not from small local thrift stores, but I mean this with my whole chest, steal from Value Village. If you can sneakily swap a tag and get something for cheaper literally do it. Value Village gets all their inventory for free I literally do not care. Corporate thrift stores don’t deserve rights. I steal from Value Village as a devotional act to Hermes 😊 lmao )

If you don’t have money to spend on really nice paintings and posters of your deities for your altar, start buying books about them. It’s a double win. A book about Greek religion will certainly have multiple beautiful sculptures and paintings of Aphrodite that I can cut out and put on my wall. A book about angels might have a cool painting of Lucifer. Books about Goddesses, ancient religions, anthropology, astrology etc. You get the opportunity to learn, and if it’s a book you don’t particularly care too much for, you can take it apart for imagery. People ask me all the time where I got all of my paintings and pictures from. BOOKS.

Does your deity have a kind of complicated sigil that you love but you also kinda hate redrawing every other day? Sorry Cerberus (Naberius) I love you but that sigil is so complicated babe.

Learn how to block print! It’s very simple. You get a block of linoleum (usually pretty cheap, I think mine were like $5) , some ink (~$10), and a carving tool (varies depending), and make a sigil stamp! All you gotta do is draw your sigil and carve it out nicely one time. You can still bless it and imbue it with your energy, and you can easily put it on prayers, talismans etc.

Chalk is your best friend. Use it to draw sigils on the floor or wall that can easily be wiped away. You can imbue special chalk and use it for casting circles if you don’t like the mess of salt.

#pagan #paganism #demonolatry #deity worship #deity work #deity witchcraft #grimoire #witchcraft #witch community #witch aesthetic #magick #witchblr #helpol #occultism #baby witch

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prettyboykatsuki-moved · 1 year ago

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✮ tags ; pwp, fem + afab!reader, dubcon (reader is drunk af), dirty talk, rough-ish sex, the liiiightest yan undertone. 18+

✮ a/n ; im not a kiri fucker but i . had a thought in the shower

Kirishima fucks like he has something to prove.

That part of him hasn't changed, you think. It's a bad time to be reminiscing about such a thing, especially since your brain can't think of anything other than how good it feels to have such a thick cock buried in your sore, weeping cunt.

Kirishima has stopped briefly, just to bottom out and press his navel to your sex - so your brain has a little space to think. You don't know exactly how you've ended up here after thinking about it for a long time. The alcohol is making your head feel fuzzy and your lower half is weak, might melt into Kirishima's nice king size bed if you're not careful.

An hour ago, you had come off of work and joined some friends in an izakaya. Kirishima was there too, seemingly with his own friends. You hadn't seen him since middle school, when he shorter and more negative. You had a crush on him then, back before all the hero stuff.

It was refreshing to see a boy your age obsesses over something like being a perfectly chivalrous man. You were friend though not closely, and had a dopey school girl love affair that never came of fruition. You didn't speak to him after that, weren't close enough to ask - and watched him grow into a hero through televised events and news.

He's a pro now. He was much bigger than you thought he'd be. You didn't think men could get that big, unless they played basketball or something. He was shorter than you in middle school but when you saw him again in person, he was double your height. You had to crane your neck up just to get a good look at his face. Defined jaw and rugged, boyish charm that made your cheeks warm like you hadn't grown out of being a girl.

You thought he wouldn't recognize you since he's basically famous now, but he did. Flagged you down and whisked you away for drinks and catch up time. Your friends pushed you to go, so you did. You drank and spoke about nothing in particular and Kirishima seemed so enraptured with you - you thought the alcohol had fried your brain. Thoroughly tipsy and giggly, you admitted to having a crush on him in long and unnecessary detail. That you liked him, and seem to still if this feeling is anything to go by.

You hadn't expected anything of it. But he kissed you in the corner of the bar and asked if you had anywhere to be, hauled you into a taxi when you said no and made out with you on the way home. Put his hand underneath you shirt and squeezed your waist, said something about how cute you are. Always have been.

No one seemed to think anything of it when you left. Pro-Hero's escort drunk girls all the time, but you wonder if it's normal to fuck them? You wonder if Kirishima has practice in bring home drunk girls who are too big for their boots and too needy to be anything but sincere.

He's so good at fucking you, you aren't sure you'd mind that being true. Not like this.

He didn't give you any time to adjust to what was going on, every breath had him chasing more of you like he'd run out of time if he didn't rush. He carried you inside, licked your pussy while you laid against his kitchen counter and finger fucked you until you could take all eight inches of him. Was he always this relentless? You know he was never kind, no matter how much he seems it. He was always critical and cunning, but you didn't expect him to be so ruthless.

He doesn't let you off of his cock after he gets you on it. Makes you wrap your arms around his shoulders even though you barely can because he's so big. Makes you wrap your legs around his waist and tells you to hold tight as he walks you up the stairs with his cock still twitching. The whole thing makes your eyelids burn with pleasure, your body yearning to keep him inside of you for as long as you can stay conscious which is barely when you're this wasted.

He dropped you in his bed and fucked you in missionary. You think in the span of a few hours, you've spent more of it feeling his cock throb inside of you longer than you've spent without. He's too big, and fucks mean. There's no chivalry in it, just pure primal desire behind weight and heavy thrusts that make you gasp involuntarily.

You haven't stopped cumming. You've never done that so much in a row. Your body feels nearly numb as you think on it. He's been keep you like this for so long and the alcohol is making you lightheaded. You can barely understand what he's saying except that he's loved you for so long. You wonder if that's true. Your pussy likes it though, clenches every time he groans into your neck after the headboard hits the wall with his thrusts.

He fucks you like he wants to prove something to you. You don't know what exactly. You're drunk and floaty and you can't stop cumming and you can't think of anything other than how much you want him to fuck your brains out. How much you want him to cum, so deep in your pussy you'd have to push it out to get rid of it. How much you want to cum around his cock until you get so fuckdrunk you pass out on it.

A little pleasant catching up and now you can't unfurl your spine from the way it's raised, and your toes hurt from how tight they've curled. You feel ditzy with it. Didn't know cock could make you cum so much you turn stupid and babbling. It's all you've been doing and Kirishima doesn't seem to mind it all. Just laughs at your nonsense words and kisses you with sharp teeth and fucks you.

And fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, with your knees to your ears and your eyes blurry and hazed.

"Kirisihima-kun," You gasp at him, breathless and hot.

"Eijirou," He corrects with a nip to your mouth. "We won't leave each other now. Not anymore."

He punctuates with the promise with a thrust so deep you can't do anything but agree. You wonder if all this is trying to prove his love for you, but how you could that be true? It's been years.

Another thrust makes your lower belly clench, and something squirts out of you mid thrust. You're too hazy to feel self-conscious of it and Kirishima only laughs.

You close your eyes and let him have you. Again and again and again.

#kirishima smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #writing tag #dubcon cw #aha nooo kirishima dont take advantage of me while im drunk and out of it haha nooo #<- SORRY LAMSDOFJKD

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mx-pastelwriting · 7 months ago

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Kinktober Day 24: Lactation

ENDEAVOR (ENJI TODOROKI) X GN! READER

SUMMARY: Pregnant with his child, leaving Enji to take advantage of your leaking chest creating benefits for the both of you in doing so. WARNINGS/TAGS: Established Relationship, Smut, Lactation Kink, Pregnant Reader, Drinking breast milk

Kinktober Masterlist

Minors do not interact!

Head drawn back, your eyes blurry, feeling Enji's cock burrowed deep into you, sparking every nerve in a wave through your body. Keeping you still with hands that burned hot, as did his kisses along your neck and chest, finding your nipples that leaked with milk.

Looking down, meeting Enji's intense eyes as his hot lips engulfed your nipple, then feeling as they started to suck while a hand squeezes your chest. Hearing a hum come from the hero as his eyes softened, drinking down your warm breast milk.

Enji having for nights worked around your growing belly to drink from your chest. Not only loving the sight of your belly growing with his child, but the benefits that came with it all—your high sex drive, glowing skin, and the milk that started leaking from your chest days ago. The man couldn't get enough.

Feeling as his hands burned hotter with every gulp, sure to leave surface-level burns the next morning that would be followed by him calling into work and taking care of you for the rest of the day.

This was your new ritual, enjoying the relief that his actions gave your chest having to no longer ache from being full of milk and also giving him a delicious drink. While drinking, he never moves as if ignoring that you were even making love just before, wanting only to focus on your chest and what it offered.

Finally, when your chest's milk lessened, he stopped turning back to fucking you into the bed, lips back to being bound to your neck and lips. Neither of you ever talked about it when morning came, having an unspoken understanding of double-sided benefits.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

♥ mx-pastelwriting does not consent to their fanfiction being copied, copied & credited, translated, used in videos and/or audios, screenshotted, used in AI.

Fanfiction is protected under copyright law when plagiarism is involved. If you plagiarize my work, either a piece or whole in any language, I will take legal action. Inspiration or the same idea does NOT apply to this, only word-for-word plagiarism in any language.

Kinktober Taglist: @g0dwat3r @bimbo-bunni @lokis-right-femur @wonderlandofsilence @jay-cosplay-bin @m-281 @caffeine-addict3295 @f-ckm3hhhg @fran-soup @erensslut @hotchners-wifey @raajali3 @crustyowos @fly-on-the-wall @www-interludeshadow-com @carolb111 @thays0 @theescorpiolovechile @0banes0 @anqelzi @lokiiified @coolchris77 @wonderlandofsilence @ch1hvro @chocolqtelle @lia1512 @choasstuff

#endeavor x reader #mha endeavor #bnha endeavor #endeavor #enji todoroki x reader #enji todoroki #enji todoroki smut #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #мχ-ραѕтєℓωяιтιηg ωσякѕ

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smutoperator · 1 year ago

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Noona's Birthday Gifts

Kim Taeyeon, Yu Jimin (Karina) x Male Reader, Friend

Part of Legends series

Tags: anal, birthday party, body fluids, bush, cheating, (a lot of) cock-sucking, (plenty of) cursing, double penetration, experience vs youth, facial, (many) female orgasms, foursome, golden shower, jealousy, monster cocks, NILF, piss drinking, prone bone, recording, riding, queefing, squirting, surprise creampie, sweaty, titfucking

Word count: 10059.

For nearly 17 years, Taeyeon has been one of the most beloved entertainment personalities in Korea. And it has been no different this year, as she has already scored yet another massive hit with "To. X." As she turns 35 years old, many come to congratulate her. But amidst all those celebrations, there was only one person she truly wanted to notice it.

"Happy birthday to the King, or should I say, to Korea's best slut," you tell her. Taeyeon smiles and takes it as a compliment. You two have a lot of history, as you've been her go-to guy for her sexcapades since her solo debut over 8 years ago. "So what do you have for me on this special occasion?" she asks. "Something very special; come to this place and you'll see it," you reply to her.

You give Taeyeon the address of an abandoned warehouse. It doesn't sound like the most inviting place for a birthday party, but you already have everything set up, including a very special guest. If it was any other guy, especially on her birthday, Taeyeon would tell him to fuck off. After all, no one tells her what to do or where to go. But not you; she knows you've always been a step ahead since the first time you met her.

As Taeyeon arrives at the warehouse, a second car is right beside her with another guest, a tall young girl with big tits that she knows very well.

"So you are the special guest," Taeyeon says to Karina. "Yes, unnie," she replies. "My guy really wants me to corrupt a so-called innocent girl, but I think you've been corrupted a long time ago. You even got the dispatch dating exposé. That truly means you made it. Welcome to the club. If you need any help, just call me." Taeyeon knows it well, as Karina has recently been exposed for dating, just like she did 10 years ago, yet just a few days later she's already cheating on him and hoping no paparazzi cameras see her.

As the two enter the warehouse, it turns out you have made a lot of changes to it, turning it into a very cozy space for the two to enjoy. You were at the back of it alongside your friend, as you let Taeyeon talk to Karina first and let her overcome her shyness and nervousness at the moment. "Just follow my lead," Taeyeon told her. Taeyeon was already turned on by the whole set-up; turning Karina into a dirty, filthy slut would be something she definitely wasn't expecting for her birthday. You never fail to deliver her the best surprises, don't you?

Taeyeon already looked naugthly at you and your friend, who were shirtless. But she wasn't looking at your well-defined torso but rather at the massive bulge under both of your shorts. Both eight and a half inches, the best she's ever taken. It was double the size of Karina's boyfriend, so she was eager to see how the young girl would take it herself. Her and Karina whispered at each other's ears, talking about your amazing physical features but especially about that boner under your pants.

"Sex with him is so good; I'll do anything for him," Taeyeon told Karina, getting her excited. She spoke from a lot of built-on experience. After so many years, you guys had developed an amazing chemistry that was unmatched even by real couples. If one day Taeyeon decided on the facade of getting married, you'd be her de facto husband. Since the day you two met, Taeyeon hasn't missed a single week without having sex with you, even in her busiest times.

Taeyeon already feels the heat burning under her dress. She's wearing no panties because she knows she won't need them today. After ignoring her for a while, you finally stared at her face, pouring some oil on your torso. "Ready for some slicky party, Tae?" she asked you. "I was born ready," she replied. You truly love Taeyeon's confidence. Women over 30 are just your thing. Their experience always leads to something very hot, and boy, does Taeyeon have a lot of it.

"Bring her to me." It may be Taeyeon's birthday, but your eyes first went to Karina. This was your first time with her, even though you had heard a lot about Karina already. Meanwhile, Taeyeon went to your friend while you looked at Rina's amazing baby-making body.

Already paired, you two started kissing the girls right next to each other. You could already sense Karina was a very good kisser. Maybe she trained a lot with her boyfriend. Karina was more into romantic kisses, while Taeyeon was really sloppy, as your friend could tell, loving to sweep her tongue all over his mouth. Truly, she moved really fast. While you were still enjoying Karina, Taeyeon was already moving further down your friend's torso and already touching his clothed bulge.

As you started touching Karina close to her pussy, Taeyeon already had her ass out in the open as she lifted her dress. Your friend noticed and lifted it even further, with Taeyeon now naked from the waist down. You were much slower with Karina, getting to know her first as you moved around her stacked body. Your friend and Taeyeon had no such restraints, as you could already hear him slapping her ass as he grabbed her cheeks with both hands.

It took a while for you to undress Karina, but as soon as you did, you took her entire dress off in one go, even before your friend could do the same for Taeyeon. People weren't lying when they were talking about her body. Every inch of it is amazing. Of course, her boobs are the standout, but Karina also got perfect-toned legs and quite a nice ass to boost as well, alongside, of course, her goddess-like visuals.

Not even a couple seconds before getting Karina fully naked, and you're already sucking her tits like a baby, which you follow with some kisses and a nice grab of her ass, pushing her closer to you. Maenwhile, Taeyeon is teasing your friend, getting naked now from the boobs down until she finally lifts her arm to take her dress off. You can hear her typical smirk as she does so. Now both girls only have their sneakers on. If you and Karina enjoy themselves in a very slow manner, Taeyeon and your friend prefer instead a very fast-paced one, creating a great contrast between both couples.

Karina is the first to get on her knees, just as you start rubbing your clothed erection on her body. She easily takes your shorts off and reveals your already hard and swinging cock. Karina grabs it with amazement and starts working it into her mouth. You wonder if Taeyeon taught a thing or two to her because she gives you a great blowjob, already leaving your massive meat throbbing from the start and giving it multiple rocket punches with her mouth. You truly don't know where to look. Down low, Karina is sucking the soul out of you. In front of you, Taeyeon's tiny, naked frame is getting her ass grabbed nonstop by your friend.

"Suck it, suck it, baby," you tell Karina. As she continues her sexy blowjob, Taeyeon joins her and starts sucking your friend off. While Karina gives a very fast-paced blowjob, Taeyeon is now the one who goes slow, getting very sloppy with her mouth in your friend's cock. Karina rolls her eyes as your meat is too big for her to take fully in her throat. Taeyeon, on the other hand, slowly twists your friend's cock as she sucks his tip. The fast movement of Karina makes her boobs jiggle a lot, while Taeyeon teases your friend, dunking her head halfway into his length while firmly grabbing it with her left hand.

Karina spits all over your cock, trying to get it deeper in the throat. Menawhile, Taeyeon is already taking your friend's full length in her mouth, bobbing her head on it like a horny animal. You start fucking Karina's face as her eye-rolling gets more exaggerated, with her giving you a dumb-faced look. She clearly struggles; going from her boyfriend, who is 5 inches on a good day, to your massive 8 and a half proves to be quite the difference. What is basically a deepthroat with him only covers slightly half of your length.

While Karina coughs at each thrust you give her face, Taeyeon is already in full control of your friend's pole, throating it like a champion. His is just half an inch under yours, meaning her years of training on your meat turn his into an easy task for her. Both get sloppy, as they have saliva running down their chins all the way down to their chests, but while Karina moans like a sexy kitty, you barely hear anything from Taeyeon, who is fully concentrated like she always has been. Your friend fucks her face, yet she barely flinches. In the end, even with another big cock filling her needy hole, Taeyeon can't stop thinking of yours and feels a little jealous of Karina getting to suck it on her birthday.

Taeyeon and Karina continue to bob their heads on each cock. You can see from above that it takes a lot more effort for Rina than it does for your hot noona. But no big deal; she's gonna learn as time goes on. Karina, after all, was just a 7-year-old kid at the time Taeyeon started her career. Watching Taeyeon choke on your friend's meat gives you great memories from all those times you did that to her, but it also makes you appreciate that Karina is trying her very best against a truly legendary whore like her unnie.

You told Taeyeon this would be a very slick sex session, and she took it to heart, filling her chest with spit after gagging on your friend's cock. Not even 10 minutes in, and Taeyeon's body is already full of fluids. She uses her hands to rub them all over it. Her mouth gets repeatedly pounded, yet she keeps asking for more without even needing to say a word. "Yes, spit on it," your friend says, as he loves how messy Taeyeon is already getting.

The blowjob session continues for a while, as you keep taking it gently with Karina while Taeyeon gets messier with your friend's pole as each second passes by, rising to this special occasion like she has always done for her entire career. You gotta give props to your friend, because you remember when Taeyeon did this to you on her 30th birthday and you nutted all over her throat as your cock couldn't resist her sword-engulfing skills.

You call Taeyeon's attention as you guys swap partners. It's your turn to finally enjoy the birthday girl. The two continue to suck their partners' cocks as if they took no breaks, Karina with her firm and high-effort blowjob and Taeyeon with her sloppy mess of cock-sucking you always love to experience as she now dives under your balls and slows down and heats them up trying to get your pole even bigger, in contrast to Karina's high-energy blowjob of your friend.

Your friend gets too excited and tries to fuck Karina's face, just like he did Taeyeon's. Poor girl initially suffers as he grabs her hair and tries to shove his meat on her throat, but I guess yours was good enough training that she quickly adjusts to it. Meanwhile, Taeyeon keeps sucking you hard and deep as Karina gives your friend's shaft and balls some love. "You're so pretty sucking that cock," your friend compliments her.

"I want to see that dick reach 9 inches before you get it inside me," Taeyeon tells you as she keeps sucking your cock. Her dirty words turn you on even more. That woman knows how to be an amazing slut. You just keep pushing your whole blood to your cock, ready to give her the best gift you can for this special occasion, as she continues to take it sloppily on her throat. "What a beautiful fucking mouth!" you praise her as she smirks at you.

Taeyeon slaps your cock all over her face and bubbles on it with her sloppy mouth. You've seen it many times; she's activated her extreme cock-hungry slut mode. "Hmmmm yeah," Taeyeon sexily says as she turns her cheeks into a drum for your huge stick. "The best thing about my job is having such a big dick that's all mine," Taeyeon brags as you now fuck her face and grow bigger in her throat.

After a little more ball-sucking, Taeyeon is ready to jump towards nastier ventures. "Turn around," she asks as she dives her little head straight into your butt, licking your asshole like a maniac. "Is this the cake you wanted for your birthday?" you poke at her. On the other side, it's your friend's turn to get on his knees as she starts eating Karina's wonderful pink pussy.

"Ahhhh. Ahhhh." Karina sexily moans as your friend dives inside her perfect folds. Her fully shaved slit with closed outer lips contrasts with Taeyeon's wide-open meaty lips and the full bush she is spotting today, just like you prefer. Karina starts sweating all over her torso as she pushes your friend's head deeper into her vagina, softly moaning at each lick he gives her. "Yeah, it feels so good," she says using her soft voice, contrasting with Taeyeon's loud noises as she keeps choking on your cock.

Karina holds herself against one of the warehouse's pillars, her nipples getting fully erect as she prepares herself for an orgasm, cumming just as Taeyeon gags on your cock. As Karina's orgasming sounds take control of the room, Taeyeon continues to be a deranged whore who only cares about spitting as hard as she can on your cock. "Use me like a gloryhole," she says as you pop your cock in and out of her mouth.

You carry Taeyeon's tiny body towards a trio of gym mats on the other side of the warehouse, while Karina takes a bit longer to come in as her orgasm hasn't finished yet. You two get very touchy as Taeyeon moves her face up to kiss you while you run her hands all over her ass, giving her a little spank. If Taeyeon's little ass gets most of your attention, your friend can't help but be very touchy towards Karina's big tits, massaging them from behind as soon as she turns around and stops kissing him.

Taeyeon sets her sights on jerking your cock while your friend keeps fondling Karina's milk bags as she licks her chops and even gives him a little guidance on how to run his hands over her boobs. Rina is the first to get on her knees in the mats, ready to sit on your friend's big pole as he slaps it towards her entrance. As you and Taeyeon continue your long, sloppy cock-sucking session, Karina is already fully seated on your friend's cock, ready to ride it as her sexy moans go back to fill the room.

"Hmmm, you're a dirty girl," Taeyeon says as she diverts her attention towards Karina and enjoys watching her riding that dick in reverse cowgirl and how much her big boobs are already bouncing, reminding her of when the tall girl with big bouncy tits alongside her was her groupmate Seohyun. "Are you enjoying riding that dick like that?" Taeyeon asks Karina as she starts fingering her beautiful pussy. "Hmmmm yeah," Karina says in between moans, loving watching your friend's big cock disappear under her tight pink pussy.

"Stretch that tight young pussy," Taeyeon tells your friend as Karina freely bounces on it and reaches the full base of his cock. The thing she enjoys the most after taking a big dick herself is watching another girl do the same, which ramps up her eagerness to eleven. It isn't an easy ride for Karina as she closes her eyes while your friend's cock hits all the way up her cervix, but Taeyeon is there to praise the youngester and tell her to keep going. "You're doing well; don't stop," Taeyeon tells as she picks Karina's right boob to suck while letting the other one still freely jiggle.

As Taeyeon detaches from Karina and lets her bounce freely on your friend's cock, she already lines up her pussy and puts your cock in without even looking at you. Taeyeon is so experienced, she already knows everything about your erection, especially where it points. Her loose pussy offers little resistance to your 9-inch dick, and soon enough, your meat is already deep inside her. But once you're fully in, the recognizable warmth of her cunt can be immediately felt.

Taeyeon gets on all fours as she bounces on your cock. Even in a position like doggy, where the man is the dominant one, Taeyeon still manages to keep control. Her walls slowly grip your cock while your bulge pokes her skin around her navel. You try to grab Taeyeon's ass, but second thoughts come to your mind. "It's her birthday; she is gonna do whatever she wants," you say in your head between more and more moans from Karina, who's now getting fully impaled by your friend.

"I love that fucking pussy taking that dick all the way in," Taeyeon tells Karina, never missing a chance to praise the young girl for her efforts in taking both guys big cocks. You felt a little jealous as Taeyeon gave most of her attention to Karina than to you, but she couldn't help herself; her caring unnie instincts always appear on those occasions. "Nice ride," Taeyeon tells Karina, as she loves the way her tits bounce.

You push Taeyeon a little closer to you as your friend takes a break to slap his cock on Karina's pussy. "Oh fuck," Karina says as soon as he puts it back in. Meanwhile, you increase the pace, grabbing Taeyeon by her waist and showing your cock deeper inside her tiny body. But Taeyeon quickly counters and regains control of the ride, all while giving Karina's pussy a little extra heat with her hands.

"Take that cock!" Taeyeon continues to cheer on Karina as her melons get more and more jiggly and her pussy gets more and more impaled. "Oh my God," Karina groans as your friend now thrusts up her pussy and Taeyeon smirks, giving the young girl's tits some slaps as they get on her range. It may be Taeyeon's party, but Karina is the one getting fucked hard, as she spreads her legs and lets your friend manhandle her. Taeyeon starts getting a little faster herself, humping on your dick with increased intensity as well, but never losing sight of Karina.

"Oh fuck," Karina keeps getting destroyed. Your friend is completely addicted to her tight, young pussy and plows her nonstop while she fingers herself. You and Taeyeon get romantic, kissing each other as you two enjoy watching her get pounded. 'Right there," as Karina settles on your friend's cock, Taeyeon starts giving you some instructions, with you trying to match his intensity. Both of you now have your hands on your partner's tits, with you taking Tayeon's perky little boobs from behind while your friend reaches up top to grope Karina's massive honkers.

"Uhhhhh, yes, yes, yes, please, right there." Taeyeon is now the one moaning as Karina rotates her hips on your friend's cock while you pound the noona's little body. You two get very sweaty as time goes on, sliding all over the gym mat. "Ohhh, things are getting hot in here," Taeyeon notices as Karina tilts her body towards your friend's torso and lifts her legs as he starts pounding her in a full Nelson for a few seconds. "Tease that fucking cunt," Taeyeon tells him as he keeps slapping his shaft on Karina's clit.

"Put it back in there," Karina begs. "Ooooh, you like that cock stretching that pussy don't you, Rina?" Taeyeon teases her as her hands reach onto Karina's clit even with your hard pounding from behind. "You like this slutty little pussy?" Taeyeon asks this time directed towards your friend.

"Dirty whore," you spank Taeyeon's ass and fuck her hard. She doesn't leave your dirty talk unsawered: "Yes, I'm a dirty whore, and you fucking love that; look how hard you're working for that dirty whore's cunt," she says. "It looks like Karina is one as well, taking that big dick so fucking deep," Taeyeon continues. "Fuck me, please," Karina says. "Yes, fuck her; I want you to fuck her until that pussy is sore," Taeyeon tells your friend, who can't help but accept her offer.

You had turned into just an accessory as Taeyeon enjoyed your friend and Karina's fuckfest. But that was about to change. Taeyeon ducks her head down and rests it against the gym mat, as she wants you to top her. You noticed and quickly followed suit. With only her knees holding her little weight, Taeyeon gets ragdolled by your huge cock, enjoying every second of it. "OH MY GOD, FUCK YES!" she lets out her first scream. "Fuck, you're so fucking big," Taeyeon praises your 9-inch meat ripping her cunt apart, while getting a privileged view of Karina now grinding on your friend's dick.

"Yes, take me; yes, take that fucking pussy like that." Taeyeon demands your full efforts. You do anything to please the birthday girl. "That's so fucking good; stretch my pussy; turn it loose," she keeps telling you. "Take me like that," she continues as your cock pumps her cunt nonstop. "Take that fucking pussy with that big fucking dick." Taeyeon's dirty talk has no brakes as you pin her body down the matress with your strong, muscular hands.

Taeyeon gets up as you let her taste her juices while you now slide down the gym mat. In the background of your romantic make-out, Karina continues to get impaled. "Oh fuck, I'm cumming," she says just as Taeyeon starts to suck you off, fingering herself and riding your friend's cock hard as her boobs keep jiggling. "Yes, cum all over that fucking dick, dirty little slut," Taeyeon tells her as soon as she hears it, now getting on her knees as she faces you and lets Karina enjoy from up top how she sucks your cock.

After a long ride and a massive release of fluids coming down her pussy, Karina gets up to suck your friend's cock, mirroing Taeyeon. Soon, she wraps her big tits around your friend's shaft, sliding his wet cock up and down her massive melons with ease. "Jerk my cock off," your friend tells her. "Yes, baby, look at those big tits all over that cock," Karina smiles, Taeyeon cheering on her in the background as she watches her titfucking session while never losing sight of your cock in her mouth. "So good," your friend approves.

Taeyeon sits on your lap as she grinds her hips against your hard cock, warming it up for more while she watches. Karina sucks your friend's big pick like crazy. You two give each other torrid kisses, as Taeyeon really enjoys spending her birthday with her favorite lover. "You're such a lovely slut," you whisper in her ear as Taeyeon smiles and starts jerking your cock, pressing it between your body and hers. "Time to ride that dick," you tell her as you lie your body in the matress, letting Taeyeon slide that prick inside her warm cunt once again.

"That cock is so good," a very sweaty Taeyeon says as she slides it fully inside her pussy. As Karina keeps jerking your friend off with her tits, Taeyeon is now the one bouncing. Her ride is insane, with her taking very rapid, short thrusts down your cock that don't let you rest for a second. You never cease to be amazed at how Taeyeon places her hands on your chest and just humps that cock like crazy.

"Yeah, yeah, ahhhh," Taeyeon moans as she increases the speed of her ride. Karina watches and is eager to follow the lead of her unnie. "AHHHHHHH. AHHHHHHH." Taeyeon screams fill up the room as she moves faster, going full dick-riding whore mode. Soon, Karina also sits on your friend's cock, this time facing him and giving him easier access to her huge tits.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," you say as Taeyeon gives your cock no rest and her cheeks clap hard against your hips. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," she gives you some aegyo-esque moans as if she were still that teenager who once sang Gee, as she smashes your cock full speed. Karina tries to be a good student and copies Taeyeon's riding motion, but while doing it well, she just can't match Taeyeon's insane speed while mounting on a horse-hung cock. It's truly a skill that takes years to master, and Taeyeon is one of the very few that can do it like it's a walk in the park.

Your friend slaps Karina's fit ass, and she knows she has to go faster, but by the time she does, Taeyeon has already switched her motion, sitting hard on your cock as if she were just bouncing on one of those big yoga exercise balls. "Ohhh, baby, fuck," you're now the one on the edge as Taeyeon shows no mercy for your cock. If it depended just on her will, it would get snapped in half. Her ride is so intense that it feels like she's been possessed by some sex demon.

Karina moans, as trying to match Taeyeon's energy proves too much for her. "Oh God, fuck," she groans as her pussy throbs and your friend keeps spanking her ass. Meanwhile, you can't do anything; Taeyeon is just on a whole new planet at this point. All you want is not to cum prematurely on her birthday once more. Five years ago, it was her throat; today, it could be her cunt, in five years, it might be her ass. This woman is the devil.

Taengoo's pussy is wet at this point; it starts queefing at each bounce she gives you, as your cock now meets a puddle of squirt inside her hole. You go feral, and it takes just a little stop in her ride for you to start pumping it up hard, as if you were seeking revenge on her for those demonic bounces a couple minutes ago. As you and Taeyeon duel like a fighting couple, making a lot of noise at each thrust, Karina just enjoys your friend's hard cock buried deep in her tight pussy.

Taeyeon tilts her body in your direction as she switches her riding motion once again. You respond by shoving your finger up her asshole. And what a switch that was, as her eyes stare right at Karina's bouncing body, and the first thing she sees are the youngster's tits in motion. However, this was just a trap that Taeyeon sets on her, as she quickly goes back to her original spot and keeps bouncing on your cock, while Karina, trying to follow, gets annihilated down under by your friend's dick.

"Yes, bow to that fucking cock," Taeyeon tells Karina while you grab her by her little boobs. The birthday girl is now the one seeing everything from above, turned on by watching Karina get plowed while she keeps bouncing on you nonstop, your bodies getting more and more slippery as her sweat and squirt spill all over you. "Ahhh, shit," you end up forcing her to stop in the middle of her ride just to survive. Well, you might have survived, but Karina's pussy is definitely getting killed at each thrust of your friend's big meat.

Your relief doesn't last long. "You can't stop like that; I'm the one who gives the commands." Taeyeon is angry you couldn't stand her ride and teaches you a lesson, gyrating her hips all over your cock and hitting it from every possible angle. This time you can survive her bombardment, as your cock gives in and surprises her with a single but massive sperm pump in her womb.

"Pleeeease," Karina begs as your friend keeps hitting her pussy hard. Meanwhile, Taeyeon was not on the pill, but she doesn't give a shit that you just ejaculated inside her, just enjoying the blend of fluids inside her needy pussy, all of them mixed by your huge cock: sweat, squirt, and cum. The sloppier, the better. She's known you for years and was aware you couldn't resist, as she now switches to a straight ride that expels all those fluids down her pussy into your shaft, balls, and crotch at each pump.

"You want more of that pussy?" Taeyeon rhetorically asks as you remain hard all the time, even after shooting inside her. To her side, Karina now starts riding in some crab-esque motion that Taeyeon can't help but find funny. "He's really getting those legs shaking," she tells her.

As you two finally finish your epic ride, it feels like Taeyeon wants more, bouncing her hips in the air with your cock already out of her. More fluids come out of her pussy, most of it being her squirt and your cum. Taeyeon makes sure to swallow all of them before moving on to the next round. "Ahh fuck," you scream, relieved that Taeyeon's cock torture is finally over. That woman really knows how to drain you.

Taeyeon dives straight to your cock, making sure it's back to the ideal size she wants. Any hint of flaccidness is gone in a couple seconds of her mouth working on it. Like a good, caring unnie, Taeyeon shares your cock with Karina, letting the youngster get spit-roasted as she tastes your wet dick already back at full strength. Taeyeon laughs as Karina is now just a piece of meat slotted between two hard cocks. "Look at that fucking slut," she says as she grabs Karina's hair and dunks her head against your dick.

Karina loves the way her unnie treats her, smiling at Taeyeon's face as soon as she lets her pull out of it, making your cock even sloppier. As Taeyeon now takes care of it, you get up to kiss Karina, who is still getting impaled by your friend during all this time, as he never lets go of her. You watch Karina's boobs bounce and then shove Taeyeon's face against your crotch. "Throat it, slut, choke on that fucking cock just like that," you tell her, still upset that she made you cum earlier.

"Oh my god, fuck, I'm gonna cum again." Karina is really straight-forward, and damn, her pussy is really sensitive as she braces herself for her third orgasm. One thing is certain: Karina came here just for fun but will come out with the perfect guy for whatever escapades she makes when she gets bored of her boyfriend. "Make her fucking cum," Taeyeon tells your friend as Karina's moans get softer and more childlike at every bounce on his cock.

Karina's queefing pussy finally gives in as she orgasms all over your friend's cock. As she cums, he tounches her very sensitive boobs, sending her to the heavens. While Karina gets up to taste her juices, you put Taeyeon in a fetal position and go down on her meaty, bushy cunt. "OH MY GOD! YES!" Taeyeon screams as she gets upside down, your tongue working all over her cum-filled, squirting babyhole. Her legs shake as you increase the heat in her vagina, filling the room with her moans. "You can't stop singing even during sex, holy shit" you mock her.

"OH FUCK. AHHHH. YESS." Taeyeon continues to let her feelings out as her pussy gets overwhelmed by your sweeping tongue. You move up and down, side by side, tasting every inch of her cunt. "AHHHHHH. AHHHHHH. AHHHHH." Taeyeon screams. You were truly throwing the perfect party for her. "Hmmm, so fucking hot," Karina tells her as Taeyeon wraps your legs around your head, ready to deliver a singing orgasm. Karina is already on all fours as your friend now takes her from behind, but you and Taeyeon aren't even noticing, fully focused on making the most of such a hot moment.

Taeyeon's legs tremble and open up as she cums. She fully spreads her legs as her sweaty body slides on the floor, and she squirts all over your face, giving you a big smirk. Not even seconds after finishing her orgasm, she already knows what's up next: "We are late," she tells you, getting on all fours to match Karina as the two kiss each other.

"FUCK!" Taeyeon yells hard as soon as you penetrate her pussy. But Karina is having a much harder time even staying up, as your friend's big bull has been manhandling her for a long time now. Both couples are now in perfect sync, but while Taeyeon takes your poundings with eyes wide open, Karina just closes her eyes as her pussy is already extremely sore after three orgasms and your friend molding it to the shape of his cock.

You spank Taeyeon's ass, and your friend soon follows and spanks Karina's. Now we've got two dueling whores—a match between youth and experience. On one side, moans and jiggly boobs; on the other, smiles at each penetration and the desire for more. "Oh my God, you hit me so fucking deep," Taeyeon tells you as she rolls her eyes. It turns out even the top whores can feel a lot of heat with such a massive cock like yours.

On the other side, Karina simply has no control over her boobs, letting them freely bounce like an airmless weapon. As they bump against each other, Karina's gets even more sensitive. But Taeyeon is no further behind. The two sluts now fully close her eyes and become just a pair of fucktoys on your and your friend's hands as you two firmly grab them by their little waists and keep pounding them.

"Good girls." You two praise them as they keep moaning with your cocks buried deep inside their cunts. Taeyeon and Karina look at each other and share kisses once more; it's the only relief they get amidst the pair of cocks stretching them out as hard as they can. "You look so hot getting fucked on all fours," Taeyeon tells Karina, who enjoys her unnie's compliments. Your friend now gives Karina's shoulders a massage while fucking her, while you firmly grip Taeyeon by her waist and love how she feels the heat of your cock hitting her tiny cum-filled womb all the way up to her cervix.

"God damn it," Taeyeon curses as the doggystyle fucking session keeps going on. "Oh my God, yes," Karina follows up as their hairs are now completely messy and sweaty and the rest of their bodies are aching as they have been turned into cocksleeves for your big meats. Karina has to use her long nails to cling to the gym mattress. Taeyeon pretends to sturggle to stay on her feet, but that tiny girl is stronger than most give her credit, as she rightens up her hair even with just one hand holding all the strangth of your poundings.

Taeyeon regains enough strangth that she starts moving her hips up and down your shaft. You give her ass a spank in approval." YES, FUCK, YES, OH MY GOD, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. On the other side, Karina is just a screaming mess as she starts shaking again. Little does she know, things are about to get even harder for her.

"Let's get down," you tell Taeyeon, who slides her body to the mat fully. Karina follows suit. You know this is Taeyeon's favorite position. She loves getting prone-boned by a massive cock up her holes. And of course, you're not gonna forget about it on her birthday of all days. Taeyeon reaches down and adjusts your cock to penetrate her at the best possible angle. Meanwhile, your friend doesn't even wait for you to start, already pounding Karina's pink slit as he gets more and more addicted to it.

"Fuck me like your life depends on it," Taeyeon tells you as you bone her. Meanwhile, Karina can only moan as she is getting stretched out nonstop. Taeyeon looks at her and gives her a little smirk before asking, "How long can you last?". "Not much, unnie. AHHHHHHHH," she says, barely able to finish.

"THAT FUCKING DICK IS SO GOOD, YOU GO SO FUCKING DEEP," Taeyeon screams as you pound her nonstop. Your session has essentially turned into a pair of hard dueling swords to see who can fuck their partner the hardest. Your balls smack Taeyeon's clit at each thrust, while your friend now slides his hands under Karina to fondle her tits while smashing them against the floor at each pounding. Even Taeyeon feels overwhelmed as you guys don't lift the foot off the gas at any second.

"FUCKK. AHHHHH!" Taeyeon screams with her mouth wide open, while Karina grinds her teeth as your friend destroys her sore pussy. You and Taeyeon hotly kiss each other while Karina gets completely topped. "I think she's gonna collapse," Taeyeon whispers to you. "Stay put, you dirty little slut," Taeyeon tells Karina, as her guy keeps pumping her. Taeyeon's words make Karina find the last bit of strength she still has left, enduring your friend's bombardment of her pussy for a little longer.

You and Taeyeon continue to make out. "You look so fucking hot taking that cock," she tells Karina; she really enjoys watching her get destroyed. "Give it to me," she tells you, feeling a little jealous of Karina as the youngster's tits are now completely pressed against the floor and getting fondled by her man's, making Taeyeon wish she had such big boobs to feel the same way.

The two girls cum at the same time. While Taeyeon is sharing kisses with you, Karina has completely collapsed, with even her head now smashed in the floor, all that with your friend's cock still buried deep inside her. You two now finally move at a slower speed, just riding their orgasms. "I think I'm done for today; my pussy walls are so swollen they doubled in size. He really fucked me good," Karina says. She may have been out of combat, but Taeyeon is ready for more. "No problem, but please stay for the rest of the party," Taeyeon asks her. "Of course, unnie. I'll do everything you ask me," Karina gently replies.

"I want both of you to take turns in my ass," Taeyeon tells them as your friend pulls out of Karina, staring at both men with naughty eyes. Karina smiles, feeling like she's about to watch something special.

Taeyeon stays on the mat, with you just turning her body at a 90-degree angle. She gasps as your meat enters her asshole. No matter how familiar she is with your cock, it happens every single time you fuck her ass. At the same position you were fucking her pussy, you start drilling her butthole. "OHHHH. FUCKKK," she says. The only action going on is now you and her going 1 vs. 1. Her pussy squirts all over the matress as you gape her ass.

"So hot," Karina says. She really made the right decision to stay. Taeyeon is about to teach her how to become a top slut. "Yes, please, right there, fuck," Taeyeon says as Karina spreads her unnie's cheeks for your massive meat. Her eyes are now completely closed. The way you anally fucked her was truly special; no other guy could stretch her asshole the way you could, and Taeyeon knew that all the way back in the first time you two met each other.

"I love the way you stretch my tight little ass," Taeyeon tells you. You have heard that multiple times already, but it always turns you on. "Don't you fucking stop," she keeps saying. The way you fuck her is so simple, yet the chemistry between both of you is just amazing and scorching hot. Karina definitely seems to agree as she watches it up close. You now fuck Taeyeon's ass at a straight angle, sending her over the moon in the process. Close to you, Karina can only gasp at how your meat disappears inside her unnie's tiny hole with such ease. Nine whole inches, and she takes it like it's nothing.

"Such a big fucking dick," Taeyeon praises your massive manhood. "And you're such a good girl, spreading Unnie's ass," she says to Karina as you finish fucking her ass. Now, it's your friend's turn. "Give me that big gift up my ass for the first time," Taeyeon tells your friend while Karina licks her asshole in preparation. "Dirty slut wants to taste it?" she pokes her. As Karina gapes her unnie's ass, your friend takes your cock up Taeyeon's butt with ease. "Yes, please, take turns in my ass," she begs once more.

"Yes, right there, oh my godddddd, fuck," Taeyeon moans as if she were singing. You enjoy the way your friend stretches her butthole out as she closes her eyes and gets her hole fucked good. "Stuffing my fucking ass like a champion," she says, giving your friend a compliment as he reaches deeper. "Oh my God, you're gonna make me cum," she tells him as she reaches balls deep.

Your friend can resist and starts manhandling Taeyeon's tiny ass. "Get in there," he says. "AHHHHHHH," she screams as soon as he starts fucking her faster. Taeyeon was truly caught by surprise as her clenched pussy opened up while her ass got destroyed. "SHITTTTT," your friend didn't come to play, as he truly wants to dethrone you for the number one spot among the best fuckers in Taeyeon's tight butt.

"Yes, please, fucking destroy this fucking ass," Taeyeon says. Now for every two words that come from her mouth, one is a f-bomb. "Fuck, you're so fucking hot," she tells your friend as his balls make contact with her cunt. "Make me fucking cum, please; show how much you love this tight little hole," she tells him. "Fuck me harder, fuck me, fuck me hard like that," she keeps incentivizing him one f-bomb at a time. "Give it to her," you say in the background.

"Are you ready to cum, baby?" he asks Taeyeon. "Yes, give it to me; make me your little slut," she replies. Soon enough, your friend gives Taeyeon that coveted anal orgasm she is craving. Taeyeon's body stays shaking on the floor as Karina tastes your friend's cock, eager to enjoy her unnie's butthole as she gives him a sloppy blowjob, while Taeyeon goes back to suck yours.

"I want both of you inside me," Taeyeon tells you as she gives your cock a little lick. You lie both on the mattress as she gets ready to sit her ass on your erect pole. "Fuck that dick is so big," Taeyeon whispers as your pole fully impales her asshole, staring at Karina, who enjoys her little unnie getting stuffed like a whore.

"I want you to put your dick inside me too, come on, do it, don't be shy," Taeyeon begs your friend, looking at him with eyes full of lust as she rests her body on top of yours and rests her head on Karina's torso, while the youngester now sits on top of your face. Taeyeon spreads her meaty, used-up cunt for your friend's huge cock. "Yes, please, get in," she tells him as he teases her, going in and out of her pussy.

"Stuff me, please; I want both your dicks inside me. JUST LIKE THAT," she screams as your friend fully commits to her pussy, pumping it hard from the start. Nothing Taeyeon loves more than a pair of candles double penetrating her on her birthday. But for the first time, she's got someone else to watch it, which makes it even hotter for her. Just like before, Taeyeon moans as if she's singing, clinging to Karina's body as she reaches her little arms at her waist, while her head rests just under Karina's tits, her tiny body moving up and down yours as your friend pounds her pussy.

"That's so fucking good; your guys dicks are so fucking big," Taeyeon says as she now grabs Karina's boobs while your friend fingers her pussy and plays with her big bush. "Fuck, you guys are so good to me, giving me the best birthday ever and stretching out my fucking holes like that," Taeyeon says as she clenches them hard around your cock. "Watch it, Rina; this is what sluts are made of," she tells the youngster while looking at her, although the only thing she can see are her boobs.

Your friend chokes Taeyeon, who tells him she finds it hot. "You like watching me get fucked by both of these cocks?" Taeyeon asks Karina as her head slides right between the young girl's tits. "Soon you'll be the one taking those big fucking dicks for your birthday," she tells Karina. "If you haven't already, of course," Taeyeon laughs. "You fucking boys stuff me so fucking good; you take that fucking ass and pussy so... good," she tells them as both of you increase the pace of your thursts inside her holes.

Karina holds Taeyeon's legs up in the air, looking at your friend and future sexcapade guy licking her chops, thinking to herself that she can't wait to be at Taeyeon's place. "I hope my boyfriend doesn't mind it," she tells herself. "That pussy is so good," your friend tells Taeyeon, impressed at how quickly her hole gets wet for his cock. And just as he notices it, she says, "Fuck, you're gonna fucking make me cum. Yes, please, fuck please," Taeyeon tells him.

Your friend truly wasn't ready for what came next. As he shoved his cock deeper into Taeyeon's vagina, he started groaning. Her walls clenched, and she started "biting" his cock, which bends just at her entrance. Taeyeon puts her finger on his clit and closes her eyes as she starts cumming, expelling his cock out with a volcanic squirt that reaches all the way up into his torso.

"OHHHHHHH!" Tayeon screams as she squirts. "Holy shit," your friend says, amazed at the geyser coming out of her cunt that gets his body wet from top to bottom. "Fuck her harder, make her squirt harder," Karina tells him as soon as he finds room to go back inside Taeyeon's pussy. He grabs Taeyeon's left leg with one hand and her neck with the other, pounding her wet puddle of a cunt as hard as he can under the watchful and naughty eye of Karina.

"You're so fucking hot taking me, taking that fucking pussy like that." Taeyeon praises your friend as she licks the juices from her cunt. He fingers her, hoping for another river of squirt, as Taeyeon wraps her arms around Karina's waist. Meanwhile, Taeyeon's waist gets grabbed hard by your friend, who pounds her so fast that he makes your cock slip out of Taeyeon's asshole.

Taeyeon massages your hard cock out of her hole while your friend keeps giving her a rough missionary. "Let me taste your fucking cock," she tells him, kicking him out of her pussy and sliding down your body to blow his cock off. Jealousy starts to get into your head. For the first time in a long while, your cock isn't Taeyeon's preferred choice. She kisses your friend and praises his cock in front of you, to the point where it feels like she's doing it on purpose.

You only have Karina's mouth on your cock to please you; meanwhile, your friend is putting his filthy hands all over Taeyeon's wet pussy and helping her squirt again, much to her delight as she kisses him. Taeyeon screams as he makes her squirt, followed by a laugh and a kiss as she follows. Soon, she's riding his cock as well. "Rina, you're so hot sucking this dick," Taeyeon tells her as Karina keeps savoring your monster pole.

For the first time in a while, Taeyeon gets closer to you as she kisses Karina to get a taste of your cock. You feel a little angry, but you don't want to be an asshole and ruin her party. Lucky for you, Taeyeon's next request to Karina ends up being a blessing to you.

"Rina, do me a favor," Taeyeon starts. "Go to my bag, get my phone, and film me taking both their cocks," she finishes. Karina starts to laugh at her unnie's outrageous request. Taeyeon really wanted that recording as her birthday souvenir. As Karina gets up to pick up the phone, you lick your chops, looking right into Taeyeon's eyes. As she rides your friend's cock in her pussy, her ass is wide open for you to top her. You know this is your chance to reassert your spot as her top man, and you're gonna take it and stuff her just like you did the first time you two met each other.

Taeyeon looks really excited while riding his dick. As Karina gets her unnie's phone and approaches you three, you insert your cock in Taeyeon's ass. You know it's going to be a tough task, but out of all the countless DPs Taeyeon has experienced, you'll make sure this is her best.

"Please put that fucking big dick in my ass; stretch me wide open," Taeyeon tells you. As Karina starts to film it, Taeyeon is already falling on her knees. You go slow, but make sure to fuck her ass balls deep from the start as your sack hits your friend's cock, stretching her pussy. Taeyeon loved how you hit her in the right spots from the beginning. Truth be told, while being an anchor man has its advantages, being the alpha dog of a DP will always be the preferred option.

"Fuck, you guys are stretching me so hard; fucking make me your tiny little fucking slut, getting those fucking big dicks inside my tiny fucking holes. Fucking me in front of my dongsaeng," Taeyeon says as Karina moves around you guys and starts filming both of your cocks pumping inside Taeyeon's stretched holes. Karina feels amazed: "I need to throw a birthday party just like unnie's," she thinks.

"Oh Gosh. Rina, are you filming this?" Taeyeon asks her, enjoying getting stuffed by both of your cocks to the fullest, especially at how you're mounting her like a raging bull. "Yes, unnie, it's so fucking hot," she tells Taeyeon. "I think I'm in paradise now; these cocks stretch me so weel, ahhhhh." Taeyeon continues. "Good girl, taking all that fucking dick deep in her holes," you tell her.

"AHHHHHHHH. OH. MY. GOD. THAT'S SO MUCH COCK!" Taeyeon screams as your bull pumps her intensely. Besides filming, Karina now reaches under her new lover's cock, caressing it as he stuffs it in Taeyeon's pussy. Taeyeon wraps her hands around your feet as you put all your strength into destroying her asshole, topping her like she's your personal bitch. "Fuck you guys make me feel so good," she says as you pick up the pace, leading the charge more and more as the dominant alpha while your friend lies idle with Karina jerking him off.

"Slut enjoying it a lot, aren't you, Taengoo?" you ask, using her nickname. "Fuck," is how she answers; you don't need to ask anything else. Karina keeps filming both cocks pumping her unnie's pair of fuckholes, fingering herself to the scene. "You guys are gonna make me explode with those two fucking big dicks," Taeyeon continues as her holes start to queef, your balls colliding with your friend's shaft as he pushes his cock up her cunt and you push yours deep in her ass.

Taeyeon is just a stuffed moaning whore now, as the two cocks work her cunt and anus in perfect sync, hitting deep inside her at the same time. You take Taeyeon by surprise, fucking her ass now at full speed as revenge for her making you feel jealous a while ago, showing her who the boss is. "Give it to her," your friend tells you as Taeyeon starts to call for God more than she ever did—in fact, every time you hit deep in her asshole.

Your friend gets some extra motivation from Taeyeon's screams, pushing up her pussy as well. Now that's all that's left for her, screaming at each pump of both cocks deep inside her fuckholes until she cums. Taeyeon pleads to God more than 100 times, but her prayers go unanswered. The only thing she gets is your raging boner stuffing her even harder, making you groan as you get close to cum. Karina registers everything while wishing to get fucked like that. "Rina, you like watching your unnie get treated like a dirty little slut?" Taeyeon asks her.

"Of course," Karina answers as she zooms her phone close to the action. Taeyeon's holes barely appear now, fully stuffed with cock. "AH. AH. AH. AH. AH." Taeyeon rapdily screams as both cocks don't stop stretching her out, yours leading the charge. "OH, YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CUM, HOLY SHIT," she continues, her body now completely sweaty while her eyes haven't seen any light for many minutes.

You slow down and enjoy Taeyeon's begging. The independent woman turned into a screaming slut for cock. "Rina, are you filming?" is all she can ask. "Yeah," Karina responds. "I've got a great angle; I think you're gonna enjoy it," she says as Taeyeon lets out yet another moan and creams all over those cocks, while your friend kisses her neck and licks her sweat. "You boys destroy my holes so fucking good," Taeyeon says, her face turning red.

"I want both of you guys to cum on my face and blow those fucking birthday candles all over it," she says. "Is that what you want?" you ask her. "Yes, please," she answers.

You guys pull out of Taeyeon, jerking your big cocks while she gets on her knees; her little body does not even get past your legs. "Yes, I want it," Taeyeon unleashes her rarely seen aegyo. "Rina I want you to film it," Taeyeon says as she puts her hands on both men's legs. Karina has a great view from the phone's lens, and with Taeyeon's little body surrounded by both cocks from such big guys, she can only record them from their torso down. Taeyeon's skin and especially her bush glow under the camera's lens as well.

"And then I want you to cum kiss me after," Taeyeon says, to which Karina reacts with her biggest smile of the day, which Taeyeon follows with one of her own, never losing sight of the two big cocks jerking off for her. "Are you guys ready to cum on my face and have my hot friend cum swap with me?" Taeyeon asks. Both of you start singing happy birthday to her as you guys get closer.

"I want every last drop," Taeyeon says just as you guys finish singing. As soon as she says those words, your friend is the first to cover her face, with Taeyeon scooping the cum that doesn't hit it with her bare hands. "Yes, perfect," she says. "Ah, fuck," your friend groans as she drains his balls to the fullest.

You're the next in line. Taeyeon's left cheek is already fully covered in semen as your friend slaps his cock in her face. "Thank you for such a good gift," she praises him and even rubs his tip on her eye, bringing back that feeling of jealousy in you. "Rina is gonna love this," she says, already aware of her friend's burning desire for your friend's cock.

"Ready to cum now?" Taeyeon sexily asks you. The load you drop on her is so sudden that she opens her mouth gleefully in happiness, watching as it reaches all the way down her chest, scooping what drops down and rubbing on it too. The next load hit her right cheek, as her face is now fully covered in cum, and you're also completely drained.

"You guys were so fucking good to me today; thank you for the best party ever," Taeyeon says, grabbing your friends already deflating cock while sucking your while still hard and then taking turns at giving both tips a few kisses.

"Take the camera and let Rina come here," Taeyeon tells you. Karina is extremely happy as she licks her unnie's cum-covered face, tasting it like the cream on top of a birthday cake. Taeyeon drops the cum in her mouth into Karina's, licking what spills into her face. "That's so hot, I love it," she says, looking at you. "Next time, it's going to be your face all covered in cum," Taeyeon tells Karina, who laughs, hoping that comes soon enough.

As you film the girls kissing each other, one final idea comes to Taeyeon's mind. "I can't go home all sweaty and full of cum; can you guys clean me before we leave?" she asks. "Sure, let's take a shower," you two say. "Yes, but not the kind of shower you guys are thinking," Taeyeon says.

"What kind?" They ask. "I want those cocks peeing all over me. I know you guys have a lot in the tank; after all, it's how you clean those pipes after so much cum, isn't it?" she says.

"Holy shit," you exclaim, never thinking that Taeyeon would ask for a golden shower. She never had before over all those years, but it's her birthday, and she wanted something a little more outside the box. "Stay there and film all of it, Rina," she says. "I want your friend to clean my body with his piss while you clear my throat as I get ready for tomorrow," she orders.

You guys oblige, as your friend makes sure to piss all over her body, giving her torso, boobs, face, and even her bush some cleaning. Meanwhile, your hot piss goes all into Taeyeon's throat. Not gonna lie, you love turning the throat that has sung some of Korea's biggest hits into your personal urinal.

"Amazing," Taeyeon says as you two run out of piss. She gargles yours in her mouth and then drinks it. "Thanks for such a great birthday party. You and your buddy, Karina, all did amazing today. I hope we'll have many more meetings in the future." Taeyeon gives a brief speech as she goes towards Karina and your friend first. "I think you guys should spend the night together, as long as you didn't schedule anything with your boyfriend, right, Rina?" she asks.

"No, unnie, I don't have anything tonight," Karina says. "Then fine, just watch for the paparazzi. They are always lurking. I can take you guys to my apartment if you want," she says. "Sure, unnie," Karina tells her as they get a hot, spicy shower together and minutes later leave the building.

Now it's just you and Taeyeon in the warehouse, both still naked. "You blew me away today. I loved how you felt so jealous when I gave your friend lots of attention. You really don't want to lose your favorite noona, don't you?" she asked. "Never," you said. "Then let's go to your house and enjoy a romantic night," she continued.

As you two have some post-sex fun in the warehouse's shower and get ready to leave it, Taeyeon gets in her car and heads towards your house for dinner. It was always her policy to leave in separate cars from her partner since the day she got caught dating in one. But before she did so, she said those final words:

"I can't wait to know what you're going to prepare for my 40th birthday." Yes, she was already thinking of it that far ahead.

Today, I'm starting a new series called Legends. This series is about some of the most iconic female idols and will feature longer stories with a lot of sex, that, depending on the idol, can be very passionate or very extreme. To feature on this series, the idol must be at least 30 years old and have some iconic moments that are entrenched into k-pop's lore. The stories will all take place around their birthdays, with each idol getting a special kind of celebration.

For this year, I'll take on idols born in 1989 and 1994 (so those who turn either 35 or 30 years old this year). Taeyeon, who turned 35 four days ago, was my choice to start it, featuring her in a DP foursome alongside Karina (who could very likely be herself a future legend) with a very nasty ending. Besides Taeyeon, there are other 3 idols I have in mind for this series in 2024: Suzy, Krystal (who turn 30) and Taeyeon's groupmate Yuri (who also turns 35).

#taeyeon smut #karina smut #snsd smut #aespa smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader smut

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bettystonewell · 3 months ago

Text

Sam Winchester x Reader - PERFECT

Read on AO3 || Main Masterlist

Sam is ever the gentleman, and Dean is, well, Dean. Having had enough of watching him lead yet another woman on, leaves Sam with no choice, but to leave. But a chance encounter in the most unlikely of places leads to Sam getting his sock on the motel door first.

18+ only MDNI 7.5k words (SAM POV)

Tags: smut, oral - male and female recieving, language, Sam’s POV, pining, dirty talk, an unconventional meet-cute

A/N: Guys! It’s my very first Sam centric fic, and it turned smutty! This is all thanks to a prompt exchange with the lovely @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth. You can find her Donna x reader fic HERE. I was given the prompt: Third Wheeling, and the phrase, “You do not want to go in there, believe me,” which is in bold. - Beth ❤️

“Being on the road can be so lonely sometimes, you know?” Dean says, taking Kristy’s hand and gliding his thumb over her smooth skin. She’s hot and way out of his league, and Sam just knows he’s already forgotten her name.

He rolls his eyes. Again. Another town, another bar. Another conquest that will keep him out of a nice warm bed.

He gets it, he does, but he was looking forward to stretching his legs out tonight. They’re stiff and his back still aches from the salt and burn they did the night before and the driving they’ve been doing all day.

Milroy to Muncie. Dean isn’t travelling the world like he just told her. What would a seasoned pilot even be doing in a place like this?

There’s a tidal pool of liquor right in front of him, lapping at the elbows of his jacket with every fresh drink poured. But hey, there are peanuts. The shells are swimming in the swill, and that suits him fine. The smell of smoke and tobacco, cheap cologne mixed with sweat and… urinal cakes… it’s nothing to bitch about. They could use a load off.

It’s just having to hear Dean swindle his way into her panties. Only took two beers and a double bacon cheeseburger.

Sam takes another swig of his beer. Lets the bitterness cool his throat and his hands. It settles in his stomach that’s twisted itself into knots. Kristy was perfect until she started talking to Dean.

He’s got a shoulder blocking his peripheral now, but raising his chin and leaning further into the wave of booze on the counter gives Sam the right angle. He sees the rise of her chest as it dips into her tank top. Makes his lip curl over the lip of his bottle and his cheeks flush. A little.

“Omae wa mou shindeiru,” Dean says with a husk to his voice.

Kristy giggles. “What does that mean?”

“It’s Japanese for you’re so beautiful. I learnt that on my last visit.”

It’s not. Sam might not speak the language, but he knows enough to know that line is from Fist of the North Star and Dean butchered it. Pretty sure he told her she was going to die, actually, but whatever. He shakes his head. None of his business if she falls for it - she does - and he can either stay here and further torment himself, or do something about it.

He chugs down the rest of his beer and drops it in the potent ocean. His elbows just miss the riptide. “Bathroom.” He shoots the word Dean’s way, but he gets no response.

“Yeah, I climbed Fuji last time I was there. It’s beautiful in the winter. The snow up there makes the whole mountain look like you’re walking in the clouds.”

Right. Though Sam would love to see him try. He might not have his brother in full afterwards, but he could live on if Dean became subjected to Darwinism.

He stands and searches the place for the John. Of course it’s in the back.

His eyes sweep over Kristy as he passes her, keeping them well away from Dean’s. His hand is covering the dip of her lower spine now, and that’s enough.

Between the pool tables and over more spilled booze that catches the soles of his sneakers as he crosses the room; he makes it to the little darkened crook behind the jukebox where some guy is marking a trail over the neck of a woman twice his age. He has to tap him on the shoulder or squeeze past and bump uglies with them, but no problem, sweet urinal cakes are within his grasp.

He reaches for the handle, tugs, and is about to step inside when a face plants into his chest.

“Sorry,” you say, and look up. Your eyes would be apologetic if it weren’t for the grin that’s stretching your cheeks. “You do not wanna go in there, believe me.”

He doesn’t want to — “What?”

He checks the plaque on the door to make sure that he is indeed trying to enter the men’s room, and he is. “Ahhh,” he chuckles. His voice is higher, and he’s blinking like there’s no tomorrow. “Why?”

“Oh. No.” Your hand is at your mouth and it’s grown even wider.

Your giggling is much more pleasant than Kristy’s, but he doesn’t see what’s so funny. A band of warmth spreads across his nose, but his stomach is doing flips now and not the good kind.

This place is gross enough. What could someone like you possibly do in there? You’re so…little. Well, anyone compared to him is, but you seem sober and put together.

Your makeup has no smudges. No smell of puke or anything else. Your hair is neat, and while those jeans are rather snug, you’ve got some nice tits. They’re not falling out and you’re not stumbling all over the place. You are looking more sheepish by the second, though.

“No, no. I, ah.” You shake your head. Your legs are crossing together. “Uh-uh. Someone’s dropped a load off in there and the ladies aren’t much better. Can I—” Your hands clasp and fingers intertwine; your arms are now slithering like two snakes between his side and the doorframe. “I really gotta go. Excuse me!”

And with that, you take off through the gap made by the couple and the booze puddles on the floor. You’re scooting between the pool tables, then past Dean and Kristy, honing in on a door at the end of the bar he never noticed before. A gust of air pulls it shut behind you.

Okay. Weird.

Sam shakes his head. He’s about to walk on through to the sink he spots on the wall when his nose picks up on whatever it was you were talking about and, yeah, he doesn’t want to know. Whomever did that needs their insides checked, if they haven’t died already?

He turns on his heels and considers his options. He’s seen and smelled worse, but he’s not desperate yet. The beer is still sitting atop the knots that had unraveled, and though the stench has tightened them back into place, they won’t hold forever.

Maybe if he walks home to the motel they checked into earlier, he can make it before things get dire? He should beat Dean before he drops a sock on the door that way.

So, with a glance towards his older brother, whose fingers have slipped under Kristy’s waistband, his decision made, and Sam beelines for the main entrance, stepping out into the night air.

The chill cuts the back of his hands and he shoves them straight into his pockets, bringing his elbows in tight on account of the wind. It dares to tackle him over, but he leans forward and braces himself down the path and past the alley that tucks into the side of the bar.

For the second time that night, you barrel into him. The coincidence, the irony, the annoyance tightens his stance until he realises it’s you and his brow quirks. “You gotta watch where you’re going.”

Your face planted into his arm, above the junction his elbow makes. It fits nicely. A strand of your hair catches on the stitching of his jacket. Probably got some beer on your chin. Serves you right.

“Excuse me,” you snap, but that grin still spreads over when you look up and your eyes recognise you’ve bumped into him. “Oh.” Your eyelashes bat against your cheek. “Well, you gotta stop getting in my way.”

And as you had done only a minute ago, you turn to take off again. Only Sam is quicker. More alert. His hand grabs your wrist before you get too far and holds on tight. “Where are you going?” he says, considering how your hips and legs squirm. The motel is only two blocks and he’ll be the gentleman if he has to be. He isn’t Dean.

“Look dude, I gotta pee, and that alley ain’t going to cut it, so unless you want me to—”

“Yeah.” He scoffs. “I’m staying down the road, so before you threaten to piss yourself, you’re welcome to use the one in my room.”

You bite your lip and shrug as you stare him up and down. He’s not a serial killer, but he can understand the skepticism after all he’s seen.

You nod your head. “I was gonna aim for your shoes,” you say. “But okay.”

And there’s Sam, blinking once more. His eyes are getting quite the workout tonight. His scoff teed with a snicker this time. The dimples in his cheeks are pulling his chin to new heights and his other hand is leaving its pocket, outstretching in front of him to lead the way.

“Okay then,” he says, and now you’re both walking.

The room isn’t much. The usual twin beds, table and chairs, a couch Sam refuses to sit on. You’ve only been here a second and you’ll only be here a minute or two more, but it’s imperative he cleans up any evidence of their less-than-normal lives while you’re occupied.

The second the door clicks and the light filters through the threads of carpet caught on the frayed timber, he’s zipping up duffles and tucking the nose of Dean’s shotgun out of sight.

There’s a salt round by the fridge, an empty bottle of Jim next to it, and Dean’s underwear draped over the chair. He picks that up with the machete, thanks his lucky stars you didn’t see that or the rest of it, then sits on the end of his bed.

No, he stands.

No, he sits and leans on his legs. His thumbs twiddle, his eyes scan the doors. And now he’s standing up again as the handle jostles and you appear with a smile that’s oozing relief. He relaxes just a little.

“All good?” he asks. What the hell was he thinking? Not like you battled a vamp in there. But then you’re tilting your head and your palms are smoothing your sides as you consider his question, and ‘Please don’t think I’m a creep,’ he prays.

“Yeah. Thanks,” you say. You’re less animated now. You’re chill, calm, collected. Even more put together than before, but just as Sam feared you might, you take in your surroundings, checking out the details of the room.

He’s luckier still.

“Can I, ah, take you back to the bar?”

It’s not suss, right? He’s just being friendly, not kicking you out or hiding something, but it’s not the way you take it.

“You want me gone?” Your chin recedes into your neck.

Shit. “No, I—”

“Relax.” You chuckle and step over to pat him on the shoulder. The same side you ran into on the street. “I’m just messing with you. Thanks for helping a stranger in need,” you add as you move to the door. “I’ll see you around, unless walking me back to the bar includes buying me a drink?”

“There’s beer in the fridge.” Sam didn’t even think. Well. He did, just not with his head.

It’s Dean’s stash in case he doesn’t pickup, but you’re here, and he’s there. Even if nothing comes from this, he doesn’t need to know it’s all a fallacy. Sam’ll take it as a win, and he waits for your response.

He’s down to beg. He throws that look that always works and your lips spread into a smile.

“Alright.” You nod. Don’t even question why there’s beer when you just met at a bar, and the next thing he knows, you’re pulling up a chair, and so is he. His back, leaning against Dean’s former underwear drawer, clinking his and your cold one together.

“So, passing through, huh?” you ask between swigs.

There’s a spark of interest in your eyes, but all he can do is say, “Yeah.” He’d much rather talk about you. Your life is normal. You seem normal. If accepting to use a stranger’s motel bathroom and then staying for a drink makes you so.

You did threaten to pee on him.

“Staying long?”

“Depends on my brother.”

You’d taken another mouthful and the lip of the bottle catches on yours as you say, “Your brother?”

There’s a drop of beer dripping down your chin, and he’s drawn to it. Tongue darts out before hiding it behind his own drink. “Yeah,” he repeats and you’re nodding more. Only it’s slow. It’s understanding.

Your gaze travels the room again as you think what to say, passing the two beds and the duffles he threw on the floor. “So, road trip? Heading to or from college?”

“College?” He chuckles.

“Yeah. You seem young enough. You got that head in a book kind of look.” Your fingers trace the bottleneck and swipe at the condensation. “I dunno? I’m making shit up while I try to work out who you are besides Sam, the guy who saved me from peeing my pants. You’re not exactly giving me much.”

And you’re not giving him a chance. “What about you? What’re you twenty-four?”

“Three. You?”

He nods. He’s twenty-five, but you don’t need to know that. It’s been over two years since he got dragged back into hunting. Since he lost Jess. Maddison, too, not that it’s the same.

“So what’s your story?” he says.

“Besides trying to use the men’s room and the alley?”

It’s not just a chuckle this time, he’s wholeheartedly laughing. It bellows round the room, ricocheting off the walls and doors. That smile of yours is wicked, and the straight-laced tone that delivered it was just right. His stomach has unwound, and his head is feeling light thanks to your shoe brushing his leg below the table.

Maybe there’s no need for lies. Sometimes all it takes is a gentleman’s kindness. A tall stature and an air of mystery.

“Besides that,” he says, and you’re considering him again. Your stare has him staring back.

You’re pretty. More than you are put together. Your hair sits just right, your hands delicate. They’d look good in his, and even better wrapped around any part of him.

Which means he’s got to up his game. You’re already here and the way you look at him clues him in that you might be interested. He just has to reel you in. So, “You gotta boyfriend, or living with your folks?” he adds. He shouldn’t have started with your relationship status, but your smile’s just growing bigger and bigger.

“Boyfriend, huh? At least I asked what you did first.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Do you wanna know if there is one?” you tease, then you’re laughing along with him.

There’s no guy. Your shoe is off and your socked foot is now stretched across the table; resting close to his crotch.

You’re not shy. You’re not dumb, either. “Why do you think I stayed?”

You lean forward. Your toes shift, too, creeping closer and closer to not so little Sam, who twitches with interest. “Cute stranger, staying at the local motel. We don’t get a lot of those ‘round here, and I’m counting on you leaving tomorrow. If you’re interested.”

It’s like he’s channeling his inner-Dean or something. You may as well be in his lap. Sure, your foot is, but women his age never fawn over him, at least he never notices until it’s too late. It took days for Jess flirting after Brady introduced her for him to make his move.

He was in Maddison’s living room and that took Dean’s interference. The weird, and albeit extremely obvious kind, but here with you, what you’re suggesting is plain as day.

“I, ah.” You’re looking at him still. Your big toe is scraping right up against the seam of his pants now. If it weren’t for the fabric covering the family jewels, your nail would be right up in theirs.

Shit.

His knee hits the table. His beer travels down the wrong pipe. He chokes when the cool liquid slides further and the bubbles lick the walls. Meanwhile, your foot just gets in there more. Big toe, seeking the form of his growing boner.

Your smile is infectious. You think making a grown man squirm is hilarious, apparently. He’d let you do it again and again. “You wanna?” he says between splutters.

Idiot. Does he really have to ask?

It’s hard to breathe when your lungs are constricting, let alone think. But you’re there, and he’s there, and he’s so fucking down, it’s no longer funny.

He stands. Crunches his chair across the crunchier carpet as your chin shoots up. Eyes following to what would be the perfect angle if you were closer and below his feet.

“I do,” you say, and your lips are plump, glistening. They’re wide and they pillow under your front teeth, daring him to capture them.

He does.

His arm sneaks around your waist, and he pulls you to stand. His hand plants firm on your side. Fingers scrunch up your shirt, but no matter, yours are riding up under his, and fuck, no, no, he doesn’t fucking care.

His gut is doing flips. Those knots are loose, but his chest is tight. Blood rushes to both heads and both heads ground against different parts of you.

“Sam.” Your kiss stops mid nip. Your hands have since moved to his buckle, but your eyes are on him when he looks past his nose and mouth. He’d kiss you more. Only his attention has turned to what your fingers are doing with his belt and how your arms glide it out in one flick, then go straight back to the fly. “You packing?”

Packing? He stands there, stunned. His pants clearly are. Your fingers just brushed the tip.

“Condom,” you say, and the colour in your irises flicker.

“Ah—Yeah. Yes. Mm—You—You don’t waste time, huh?”

“Haven’t had enough, not too.” You double over in a manner he’d say otherwise. “And you mentioned something ‘bout a brother?”

“Dean?” His cheeks are rising again. But they’re doing so because his eyes are squinting with disgust. You’re still grinning up at him though, and your palm is teasing his dick through its confines.

You grip and press into him, moulding out the shape under his jeans and he shakes that thought away.

You want him. Your lashes are fluttering and your lips are twitching into a sultry smirk because he’s under your ministration and you’re ready to go with him, just as much as he is with you.

“Hold that thought,” he says, and he takes a step back, hand still on your waist to toe a shoe off.

He’s not that coordinated with the sock, however, and he soon bends over to retrieve the house-elf’s bounty. He flashes it in triumph in front of your quirked brow, but you’re soon grinning with him.

There’s a fit of laughter that hits his ears again and footsteps stalking him as he glides to the door and covers the outside handle, just as Dean would do.

He shuts it, turns around and your hands grab and pull him back to you. Your right is back at the button and your left is sliding on in, tickling skin teasing through the copse of tiny curls before any kiss picks back up.

You swallow his moan. Taste the trepidation on his tongue as your skin touches his velvety head.

Nope. Not shy. You know what you want, and Sam is more than happy to let you take it if you keep touching him like that, but he’s not dumb. He also knows what he wants, and it’s only fair he gets his turn, too. You’re here. He’s here. He wants to last. No, needs to. Being on the road with Dean so often means he gets little time to, well, take his time.

He’s pent up. Motel showers aren’t the best when he has to keep quiet and slow his hands so the faps don’t reach his brother’s waiting jaunts. He could blow his load right now with not much more effort from you, but he’s not going to. Not until after he savours you first.

It’s been way too long since he felt sweet curves or tasted the sweat of another’s skin. The bitter beer mixed with a fruity gloss is doing wonders already, but he craves more.

Just like the footpath, his hand grabs your wrist and its twin, and he leads you backward until your knees hit Dean’s bed and you flail. Your arms pull from him and push down into the bedding, then you drag yourself up to the pillows where you rest your head against the wooden board.

Your finger tells him to come hither, your hand pats the space at your side. Sam takes off his shirt.

His gut is doing flips again. More so when your eyes trail up over every inch of his chiseled chest. Behind it, his heartbeat is fast. It could jump right out of there. Only the lump in his throat is huge.

You’ve slipped off your shirt, too. Your fingers unclasp the hooks of your bra. You slide the straps down and hold it in the air before you fling it at his feet and giggle again.

“What’re you waiting for?” you say and it goes straight to his pants. The outline of his dick throbs against the denim.

He swallows. “Just, ah, admiring the show.”

You grin. A little sigh escapes your lips as you look down at yourself. Your fingers swirl over your heaving skin. They dip into the valley between your breasts, but never move further than the tan line that divides the top half from the fuller one. “It’s more fun if you’re touching me, too.”

Ho-kay. This is really happening. And Sam’s now diving for Dean’s duffle. He’s careful not to reveal the contents, but it’s hard not to when he’s just as and everything’s dumped on top. The little box of Trojans is right under the weight of the sawn-off and the sharp blade of a machete almost cuts him.

Man, it’s lucky you’re occupied.

Sam turns around, and that’s an understatement. You’re inching down your jeans. They’re flung off, and he’s doing the same. Hopping, skipping, and jumping, he yanks the string of plastic foils out and trails them along behind him.

They splay out over the covers while you splay under him; and he’s dipping down to taste. There’s salt and a light scent of citrus teed with something sweeter flooding his nostrils as your fingers curl into his hair. His occupied with the way your left tit fits below them. He squeezes and draws his mouth over the other. Pops your nipple in and sucks.

“Took you long enough,” you coo, and he just chuckles, haughty, deep.

“And I’m gonna take longer,” he says between nips and swipes of a thick, flat tongue. One that glides perfectly ‘round the round, hardening bud. “Gonna fuck you so good.”

He presses firm, draws your taut skin into his teeth. He’s determined to leave marks because something’s snapped within. Where the hell that last line came from, he’s got no idea, but it’s as if he’s an animal turned feral.

A wolf in its den? A lion devouring its prey? Does it matter when his hips are gyrating against your lace?

Your panties are staining his boxers, and his boxers strain against them, staining them right back.

“Fuck,” you moan.

He groans, and then your hands are pressing against his head.

He can take a hint. He’s smart. He won’t tell you your upper thighs were his mouth’s goal all along. Too busy concentrating as he scoots down, ‘cause he can’t fuck this up. “You want me to fuck you, baby?” he says on the outside. God. Who the hell is he? “Want me to taste you?”

“Sam,” you moan again. “Gonna get me off with that tongue of yours, baby?”

And damn. His name is so much better when you say it, when your legs are spreading further open for him. His fingers are slipping under the edge of the lace, feeling the first slither of just how wet you really are.

His lips press against your clothed entrance and the damp fabric gives way. He’s certain his nose has just tapped into your clit and you smell divine. Sour, earthy. On the verge of something sweet.

He darts his tongue back out to taste, and your fingers are tugging this time. Your nails scrape his scalp and your back arches off the bed, pushing your hot, hot heat against him.

“You gonna tease me all day, Samuel?” you say, and he’s not mad. That scolding tone is working wonders. His amusement bursts through his nose.

Down below though, a bead of pre-cum dribbles from little Sam, flexing with a life of its own. He can’t deny his balls are tight, stomach hotter than you are. It’s still flipping, and his toes stretch and recoil in extension.

“No, ma’m.” The sooner he can get you to cum, the sooner he’ll be comfortable sinking into you. What he lacks in confidence he makes up for in size, and it’s something he’s proud of.

He unfurls your panties. Glides them down with your eager help. Without warning, his lips return to their former position, parting yours around him. He presses hard, spreads his mouth open wide and licks while his fingers dip where he’s too afraid to reach.

You’re still a stranger he knows nothing about besides no boyfriend and you’re willing to have this one-night stand with him. But he’s smart, remember? He doesn’t want to catch anything. Even if you’re well put together and squirming into his palm, he just met you, urinal adjacent.

“Oh, shit.” Your back arches again. Your pants reach his ear. His fingers curl and stroke your constricting walls, wet catching in his nail-beds. Your body trembles, bringing a new meaning to thundering thighs.

They quiver, they shake. He gets a calve to his chin as you raise it up and stretch it out. There’s a risk his head will get a good clamping, but he continues to strike with the pebbled tip of his tongue.

His lips pull together and he pulls away with a smack, putting on a show for you with a swipe over the bow. His eyes find yours, lust blown, heavy lidded. Your mouth parts and begs a, “Please.”

And Sam’s diving right back in with a smirk. Kisses with force against your clit. Thrums his fingers inside, hard and fast. His wrist is getting a workout. His thumb aches as it’s pushed to the side. But he slips in a third finger, flicks the shelf of your pubic bone. Holds your stomach down as you buck and shake.

“Oh, god,” you cry. His name comes out in a hoarse scream. You yank at his hair as you gush over his hand and chin. Your legs do everything in their power to crush him, but he doesn’t let up.

His fingers continue to make you writhe and your arms wriggle and bend. Only now, his kisses move and spread your juices over you.

The crease in your thighs and the soft flesh covering your hips. Over your stomach, delving into your navel, he trails up your body, back to your breasts, and soon you’re wet inside and out, and he grins big and toothy. Cheeks up high again as he waits for you to come down from yours.

He drops to his side. Props himself on his elbow. Hand runs through his hair, already laced with sweat. “That good, huh?” he asks.

And if he’s honest, he needs to know. He’s still working you, only now his fingers tap at your opening. Slipping through your folds with a sound so slick, Dean would say it’s music. A newfound confidence comes from the belief you’re outta breath because of him.

Your laugh fills with air, like how a cartoon dog might snicker, chest rising against his own. Your nipple scrapes over his skin as he leans down and kisses you proper. Answer, stolen, before it can even form.

Salt and fruity gloss - cherry? No, strawberry. Why the hell does he care? The flavours swirl together. Bodies press together when you hitch your leg over his and pull him closer. Your sweet heat now flush against him, hammers his heart and forces his grip on you to tighten.

He squeezes your ass. It’s plump. It’s firm. Your jeans hid just how perfect and round it was. Just the right size for him to hold.

But you’ve got your sights set on your own grip, hand diving into his boxers to take him and give him a slow pump. Pulling back, your eyes open wide in surprise; you twist your wrist and palm his weeping head.

“You’re the one packing, huh, big boy?” You then bite your lip. Lick it. Drag your thumb over his slit and pull a grunt from deep within the pit of his stomach.

Somewhere below the knotting, there’s a fire burning, raging, and it needs to be sheathed, covered, surrounded. It’s gross, and it’s oh so Dean, but he needs it put out and a wet pussy will do.

Sam thrusts into your touch. He can’t help it. Fuck, he wants to move.

“You think you can handle me, baby?” he rasps into your parted mouth, stretching his arm over and behind, fumbling for the string of foils and tears one off.

“I’m gonna fucking try,” you say, and the wordplay, whether on purpose, is not lost.

He rolls to his back, and you’re already pouncing, pulling his underwear further down and off. You straddle his legs, take the little packet in your hand, and stroke him some more, up close, eye to eye.

You kiss the tip, watching as it flexes. His fingers do the same ‘round the ends of your hair. They curl then grip. Yours is firm around his base. And the sight?

The sight.

He’s died and gone to heaven. Too long since he’s seen a woman between his legs, those eyes still half lidded, still full of lust. You’re greedy. You’re needy. The way you hold your gaze as he feels the heat of your mouth nip at his skin, breath warm and wet, floods through him.

The way you sink further down.

Sam rolls his head back, his crown pushes into the pillow bunched up below. He wants to look, wants to pull at the strands of hair that still lace through his fingers and yank you down so you take all of him in.

Your tongue glides down the underside, flattened and rough, encasing, but with a light graze from two front teeth up top. The suction is so tight. The stretch around him burns his own skin. The way you drag back, then spit, swirl the saliva, and do it again, coating him all sloppy that it’s gleaming, all slippery and dripping like you were. Like you will be again. His gut curls in on itself now.

He’s tingling. He’s buzzing. He’d be high as a kite, if it weren’t for your thighs keeping him down. Their weight, your weight, making him go numb with need.

You pump your fist down low, swiping your smallest finger over the velvety skin covering his balls. A drop of him or you pools there, then drips further down. “Fuck.” He then calls your name.

“You ready for me, big boy?” you ask again, and he’s snickering at the way you say it.

“Yeah.” His arm releases you and flops over his forehead, but the sound of that little wrapper in your grasp rectifies that. He’s peeping out from under himself as you roll the rubber down.

He’s so sensitive, it stings like the bite of some bug. Balls more so as you drag yourself up and over him. Cockhead catches where you split down the middle, rubbing across your puckered hole.

You bite your lip. How many times now he’s lost count? You raise yourself, grabbing him where he’s thickest. Those eyes of yours stare at him again. They continue to hold that gaze as you lower back down, grin only curling further up, as your lower lips stretch around him.

“So big,” you say this time, and he can’t tell if you’re yanking his chain or really mean it. Your cheeks puffed and your mouth all white from shining teeth, just like the rest of you.

Like your perky ass, kissing his pelvis. Like your thighs squeezing him, much like the vice between them. Tight, wet and hot.

“Can you handle it? Can you move, baby? Gonna ride me? Gonna cum all over me?” God. Where the hell is this coming from? Who is this guy, all confident and cocky?

The guy with the big cock in your cunt. That’s who.

Sam chuckles to himself. Still can’t believe his luck. But you’re raising again, and sliding back down, and all he can do is hold on.

His fingers dig into your thighs. He presses his nails into your soft body. He helps you rise and fall over him.

He’s making the ride smooth and savouring the feel of your walls closing around him. Feels the fluttering, and the beginnings of new tremors. Marvels at how much more wet you’ve become.

The sounds. It really is music. The way you, your tits, and your skin slap with each thrust and bounce. The louder claps of his pelvis hitting yours and the sheen of perspiration between has his head swirling with images he needs.

“Come ‘ere.” Sam lifts you just slight. Raises his legs; bends his knees; jostles you so his neck doesn’t need to strain as far so his mouth can reach.

He pistons his hips, hears the slaps, tastes the sweat, feels the pants against his chin and cheek. Memories blend, and ghosts of his past weave in and out around you. You could be Jess, you could be Sarah, but it’s you who’s mouthing him. Not exactly kissing, too focused on making your bodies move.

“Fuck, Sam,” you squeal.

His hands spread you wider. He grunts your name into his ear.

He can’t keep up the pace as much as he’d like to. Can’t keep up the facade. It’s better if he sees your face to remind him who he’s there with. He can’t do that with a curtain of hair.

So he taps, twice on the fine edge of a curve, has your eyes firm on his.

“Wanna switch, baby?” he asks, and thinks quick for a reason. “Need to see that pretty face when you come.” He’d try to roll over with you in his arms, but he can just see that being disastrous. Losing his balance or getting an elbow somewhere where it shouldn’t.

He doesn’t have to worry because you’re lifting off. You fling yourself to his side and wriggle your back against the bedcovers. Open your legs wide, hands draped where your panty line would be.

“You gonna make me come again, big boy? Gonna fill me up with that thing?” you say, and he’s over you in one swift movement.

Sam grabs his cock and runs the covered tip over your entrance to tease you back. Watches the twinkle in your eye as it runs over your clit and you moan, just for show.

Man, he’s lucky. Who the hell meets someone by a urinal and then gets to fuck them? Wait, no. He doesn’t wanna answer that. He’ll just keep marvelling at his luck at the gorgeous woman below him. The one who was busting to spring a leak, now waiting for him to bust his nut and hers.

“Fuck. You’re so tight.” Still, he glides back in with ease. How wet you are for him makes it so.

He wishes he could feel it, he’s just not that stupid, but he can imagine if he remembers your mouth and how it felt ‘round him, taking him deep.

You still do.

Your legs hook over him, and he hitches the left up higher with his elbow. His cock sinks deeper, base flush against your seam.

“Fuck me, Sam.” You’re squirming. It’s right out of a movie or a book. He’s John Snow or Jamie, and you’re - god no. You’re you and he’s him, and he’s, fuck, yeah, he’s fucking you.

He snaps his hips. Feels that burn again as his balls collide with your ass. His thumb is drawing little circles over where you join and he goes for it.

He leans over, bending you with him, stretching you open, dreams of splitting you in two. You moan. Your walls flutter again. You tremble and your thighs contract.

They’re powerful, much more than before. The back of your knee pulls on his arm and he only grips tighter. Hand on your shin. The other palm pushes you down.

It’s the perfect angle. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

Perfect to dive in deeper. Feel you flex and accommodate his size.

Your mouth produces a hiss. It’s like a whine at the same time. Forming an O with your lips that then spreads wide into an “Ah.” Elongated. A laugh. A giggle. Whatever it is, he’s doing something right because your thighs are trembling again and your leg is trying to pull away.

His hand presses firmer, but he’s pulling you and shifting back, raising you up so you’re his handle on the ride. His tip is dragging out through you now and spearing you when he goes back in.

Thrusts are quick. Sweat falls from his brow. He feels the way your body pushes back against him. He’s an intruder, but he’s not backing down.

His stomach is tight. His legs ache and tremor, just as yours does. But that pull? The way his dick swells? It’s magnetised, pushes as deep as it can go. It’s determined to bury itself to the hilt.

And when you say, “Fuck,” again, but there’s another, and an added, “God. I’m gonna come,” Sam snaps his hips and watches your face closely.

A huge grin. The biggest yet; stretches into your eyes, twitches your lip and raises your jaw high. Your neck, exposed like a bloodsucker’s prey, and Sam is doubling over to claim it.

His tongue glides up your neck, teeth nip at your skin. He’s sucking like you’re his last meal. His pace wanes as your walls try to push him out, but he’s rocking his hips with purchase, pushing back in deep.

Another, “Fuck,” leaves you, but he’s seeing white. His balls throb and he’s spilling into what little space is left in the Trojan. He’s so far high on cloud fucking nine, he forgets where he is and who’s under him.

He’s spent. That was way better than any quickie in the shower. The warmth beneath him. Perfect round tits pressed against his hardened chest tremble and shake.

“Fuck.” It’s his turn now, but it comes out more like a groan. He pants. Body heavy, yet light as air. He tries to move, but everything is jello and shaking.

Your arms have been clinging to his back, your slick pussy would if it could, but it’s still fluttering, and he chuckles deep.

You giggle on reflex, and somehow it gives him the strength to look up and search for a kiss. The sweat is intense. Fruit, now barely there, but the after-sex-glow kissing your cheeks is better than anything else.

“Wow, big boy,” you say between your own pants. “Fuck.” He could hear that again and again. “That was quite a ride.”

“Yeah?” he says, though he really doesn’t have to ask.

“Yeah,” you say, and it’s breathless, it’s hearty, it’s reminiscent of a time he should forget when you’re there with him, so he does. He tries.

He rolls over to the side and removes the rubber. His muscles remember to roll back and drape his arm over your middle. Fingers flex at your side and he breathes in the citrus remnants in your hair as he closes his eyes and breathes in deep.

For a moment, he’s not in the dingy motel, but in his room. Yours too, maybe? He’s still at college ‘cause he is young, and he still has his whole life ahead of him.

There are no monsters. No salt, no burns, knives or guns, and Dean? Well, Dean can be there too, he supposes. Just separate, the other side of town. Further in Milroy.

Yeah. Pennsylvania. That’s perfect, too.

The weight of you draws him in further to dreaming. The warmth of you finally lolls him off, but neither is there when he stirs the next morning. The space in the bed beside him is cold and the thumps on the door rattle the chill he’s left with. His body, no longer jello, but stone-like, and cold.

No feathers in sight, unless the pillow bunched up beneath him again is made of them. He is dumb if he thinks it’s true.

The newfound churning in his gut tells him he’s foolish, though, and when he opens his eyes and scans the room, he’s a bigger fool than Dean. What was he hoping for? That you’d be there with bacon and eggs? A morning coffee? Waking him up for another round?

No. Of course not. The bathroom door is wide open, and no feminine clothes, litter the floor. Of course you’d be long gone. You’d told him something of the sort last night.

“I’m counting on you leaving tomorrow.” Yes, that was it. That’s exactly what you said. He just didn’t realise you’d be the first.

Sam rubs his face. Pushes his hair back out of it and stands. The bangs are getting old, and the district “Sammy” that comes with them grates his eardrums. He’s not so big anymore.

No, he’s little brother Winchester.

Bitch.

“Sammy.” Dean bellows again. “Sock time’s over!” Another thump. “You’re abusing the privilege. ‘S only supposed to be two hours, max. Three if you’re ménaging.” A lecherous laugh follows.

Who’s older and who’s younger? Well, it’s only four years.

Sam rolls his eyes and picks his boxers up as he walks around the bed. He grabs his t-shirt at the midway point, and strolls over to the door.

Dean’s fist is held up in greeting when he opens, but Sam’s turning before the stupid grin gets any bigger.

“Oh c’mon man. On my bed?”

“It’s not like you were using it,” Sam says, back still towards him as he grabs what he needs and heads for the shower.

“Where’s the girl?” follows him there.

There’s a twinge of a smile as he closes the door, but a sigh replaces it. He runs his hand through his hair again, holding it there as he looks around.

Nothing’s out of place. No signs of anyone else occupying the space unless you count the seat on the John being down. “You’re getting sentimental over a toilet?” he whispers, and shakes his head. Grabs his toothbrush; squeezes the paste.

Pearly whites and hands on him flash before his eyes. He goes through the motions after that.

There’s a perfectly rounded tit in his hand, heaving as he squeezes, then lets go. A, “Fuck,” moaned into his ear when he turns on the faucet, plump lips and lust-blown eyes spitting on his tip when he spits into the sink. The lingering drop on the porcelain drips down nice and slow. He’s got a small mark on his shoulder. When he twists, he sees a couple of tiny dints in his back. His cock is stirring as his eyes travel his waist, imagines perfect hands gripping him firm.

“Hey, big boy,” Dean says through the crack, and it makes him startle.

Big boy chokes and yanks on the handle. How the hell does he know?

“You sly dog. So you did get your dingle wet.”

“What?” Sam’s voice is rather high. His cheeks are pushing the limits again and he’s hiding the smirk that’s trying to rise.

“You know.” Dean chuckles. “Widdle Sammy got waid.” He even goes as far as to slap his side as he holds up a note with ten beautiful digits scrawled between a heart and a ‘call me.’

“Give me that.” Sam snatches the note; grabs his phone, refusing to look Dean in the eye when he slams the door. They’re too busy scanning the digits, each curve, each bubble, each dot as he punches the numbers into his contacts, his thumb hovers over pressing call.

Is he desperate? Yes, but his ego holds him back. It will at least, until they hit the road.

From Muncie to god knows where next, he’s got no idea. Another town, another case? Maybe. But there’ll be nowhere as special there and no-one as perfect as the girl who almost…made him ditch his shoe.

For those who don’t recognise the Japanese reference, “Omae wa mou shindeiru,” (お前はもう死んでいる) translates to “you are also going to die.”

Tagging those who showed interest from the WIP folder game, and those who asked to be tagged in everything SPN ✌️

@losers-clvb @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @roseblue373 @middleearthislife

Do you want to see more Sam stuff? LMK

#sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester smut #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester oneshot #sam winchester #spn x reader #spn reader insert #reader insert #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #jared padalecki

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bloodlineslut · 5 months ago

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The Law of Obsession (Ch. 1) | Roman Reigns

Plot: Roman Reigns seems to be everything Laila never knew she needed. He's handsome, charming, confident, and very protective. As a criminal defense attorney, Roman is used to bending the laws to his will, to his control. When he meets Laila, a 21 year old student who just transferred from her hometown college, he sees a young woman who needs his protection. He sees someone who only needs him.

Laila believes she's found the perfect man. But perfection always comes at a price.

Pairings: Roman Reigns x black! OC

Warnings: OC is a virgin! (for now…), slow burn romance, they’re just talking to each other in this chapter

Summary: For the past week, a mysterious man has been watching Laila at the cozy little café she goes to after class, where he finally decides to “introduce” himself.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: CHAPTER 1 AHHHH! This was more of an intro chapter so it's a little shorter. I’m gonna do a slow burn to build up the suspense, romance, and everything in between. It will have everybody from the original bloodline, so Roman, Paul, Jimmy, Jey, Solo, and even Sami!! Yall please comment if you like it so far! And if you want to be tagged let me know

Laila usually kept to herself. It’s not that it was on purpose, though. After moving halfway across the country to Florida to finish college, she was still adjusting to the new environment.

After graduating high school, her parents encouraged her to enroll at the community college, just for maybe 2 years or so. She did everything to make her mom and dad happy, but she couldn't help but think she was missing out on the full college experience.

She talked to her parents about possibly transferring, although she never said where. They reluctantly agreed, and 2 weeks later, she found out that she got accepted into the University of Miami just in time for the fall semester.

It took a lot of convincing her parents, especially her mom, to let her go. But once Laila mentioned that she received a scholarship, that convincing became a whole lot easier.

All her mom and dad wanted her to do was to continue to make good grades and get her Bachelor of Science degree in Accounting. Also, with her being the only child, she had to do well.

She was a tad bit sheltered in the romance department, too.

She had her first kiss at 17 on the night of homecoming with this boy, Trey, who she had a big crush on since freshman year.

That was like the highlight of her life, to be honest.

But ever since then, it’s just been school, school, and more school.

She just wishes she knew at least one person here in her new home for the next 2 years.

“Order for Laila!” She was snapped out of her thoughts, forgetting that she was supposed to be listening for her coffee that she ordered a couple minutes ago.

Quickly standing up from the little corner table she found, she walks up to the counter where the barista is holding the drink out for her.

“Thank you so much!” She takes the drink—an iced cappuccino with hazelnut shots and sweet cream cold foam on top—and walks back to her table.

Setting the coffee next to her laptop, she opens it, going to her calendar to see if there were any assignments due tonight.

“Oh, thank goodness.” She quietly breathed out as the front door bell rang, signaling a new customer had just entered.

Naturally, she glanced up at the person and unintentionally did a double take.

Oh, this man was handsome.

Not wanting him to catch her looking at him, she quickly averted her eyes back to her laptop. His back was now to her, waiting in line at the counter to put in his order.

She trailed her eyes from her laptop screen to his back, taking in his very tall stature. He also had on a black suit that he definitely got tailored, because it fit every inch of him perfectly.

The guys back home surely don’t look like that.

Trailing her eyes up his back, to his head, she sees that he has a nice man bun.

And then she hears his voice.

“Yea. I want a large black coffee with cream and sugar on the side. Thank you.”

Laila notices how he says, “I want…”. Her mom always told her that the way a person orders food or a drink tells a lot about their personality.

She was always the type of person to say, “Could I please get…”

Clearly, this guy knew what he wanted.

She didn’t realize she was still staring at the back of him, until he turned around and softly smirked at her. Her eyes widened in embarrassment, and she looked down at her phone in shame.

Needing a distraction, she just decided to mindlessly read over her class’s syllabus. Her brain only registered something about a research paper due at the end of the semester, when she suddenly felt a large presence standing in front of her table.

She damn near looked like a deer in headlights.

“So, UMiami huh?” The deep, velvet-smooth voice spoke out.

Laila slowly turned her head upwards to meet the face of this sexy, mysterious man, and she had to catch her jaw from going slack at his beauty.

“…How do you know that?” She asks, confused.

The man just chuckles and points to the back of her laptop. “The sticker that says ‘UMiami.’”

Laila reaches to close her laptop just enough to see the sticker that he’s talking about. “Oh, right! I forgot I put that sticker there.” She laughs, showcasing a beautiful smile and two deep dimples that lit up her whole face.

Her smile made Roman smile, his dimples catching her eye, a sharp but adorable contrast to his manly features.

With his large coffee in one hand, he uses his other to point to the chair in front of her. “You mind if I sit?” It was a bit more of a statement than a question.

Laila, not knowing how to say no to people, nods before she can catch herself.

Every move this man makes is with purpose, never rushing or hesitating. Every move is with intention. He sets his coffee down, his fingers briefly brushing against the rim of the cup before he smoothly pulls out the chair.

A quiet confidence that’s controlled and deliberate.

She watches as he sits across from her, his broad shoulders relaxed but his presence heavy. There’s something about the way he looks at her—like he already knows something she doesn’t.

Laila clears her throat, in an attempt to calm her nerves. It’s not that he was creepy or anything. His stare was just so intense that it made her suddenly so hyper-aware of herself.

He finally speaks up. “I’m Roman.” He says, slowly outstretching his hand over her now-closed laptop.

Laila hesitates for just a second, but ultimately moves her hand toward his. He gives her a flirty gentleman’s handshake, her delicate fingers between his thumb and fingers. He smirks at her, giving her soft hand the slightest, respectful squeeze.

Roman holds her gaze, steady and calm, his eyes holding an underlying intensity that Laila is oblivious to.

“My name is Laila.” She shakes her head and speaks up, forgetting that he just introduced himself to her.

“It’s very nice to meet you. Laila.” He tests out her name on his tongue and it seemed to just roll right off of his tongue.

She was the first to gently pull away from his hand, smiling nervously and fiddling with her hair.

Roman brings his coffee to his lips, taking a sip of it now that it had a chance to cool off a bit.

“You come here often?” That voice was so attractive to Laila.

“Huh? Oh, yeah! I like to do my homework here instead of the library a lot of the time.” Now it was her turn to take a sip of her iced coffee.

"What are you studying?"

"Accounting, I'm in my junior year." She says nodding, proud of how far she's come.

"Good with numbers huh?" He teases and smirks at her, knowing she's probably heard it a hundred times.

She playfully rolls her eyes and tucks her hair behind her ear. "Ugh, if I had a dime for every time somebody said that. But, I just like this coffee place because it's so cute."

Roman nods in understanding. “I get it. I like to come here after work every day before I drive home.”

This piqued her interest. “Oh, what do you do?” Curiosity filled her voice.

His fingers grazed the top of his cup before meeting her big brown eyes again. “I’m a criminal defense lawyer.” He says with confidence. He took his job very seriously, as it entailed some things that had to be kept under wraps.

Laila’s eyes lit up at this new information. “Oh wow! Wait, so you get the bad guys off?” She giggles.

A ghost of a smile appeared on his face at her question. “Yea somethin’ like that.”

Laila smiled at looked down at her lap, still so nervous and in shock that a man that looks like this is even sitting down, talking to her.

“Well, if I ever get in any trouble, I’ll know who to call!” She adds to the fire.

“Nah. You’re not the type to get into trouble. Just stay with the right crowd, you’ll be okay.” Laila couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“I don’t even have a crowd to stay with…I don’t know anyone here.” She shyly admits, shrugging her shoulders.

“You know me.” His tongue peeks out of his mouth to lick his lips while he brings a large hand to his tie, tugging it down a little.

Laila’s heart had to be going a million miles a minute, at this point.

It was like everything he did was sexy. He just oozed sex.

‘Girl you’re a virgin, you don’t know what sex even feels like.’ That voice inside her head yells at her.

She was trying to think of what to say next, but he spoke up before she could.

Roman reached two of his thick fingers into the pocket inside his black suit jacket, pulling out a stiff little white card with writing on it.

“If you ever ‘get into some trouble’ ,” he said, his voice low, “give me a call.”

Laila gently took it from his fingers and read the words on it.

Reigns, Heyman, & Associates

“Justice served. By any means necessary.”

Seeing the law firm’s motto made her blink back her surprise. “Oh, wow…you uh, really get down to business,” she glances up at him, to find him already looking at her.

“We do. Let me know if I can do anything for you. Get you out of a parking ticket, beat up somebody for you, talk to a professor…”

This made Laila laugh, but little did she know, Roman really was NOT joking.

He chuckled and admired how beautiful she was when she laughed. Those beautiful dimples would make him so weak.

A text message from his phone broke him out of his admiration as he looked down at it. It was Heyman.

Paul Heyman: Chief, we have a new client. This one got busted for drugs, but he was one of the contributors in our plan to take over Rollins’ firm.

Roman: Say no more. I’ll be there in 15 minutes.

After texting Heyman back, he put his phone in his pants pocket. “Laila, I actually gotta get goin’, sweetheart.” He says, standing up and grabbing his half-drunken coffee that was now cold.

He reached his hand out for what Laila thought would be a good-bye handshake, but he brought her hand up to his lips and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles.

“Be safe okay?” His hypnotizing voice coaxed an immediate response out of her.

“Okay.”

They parted ways, with Roman leaving to handle business, and Laila being left with her thoughts and her heart that didn’t seem to stop racing ever since she met this man.

#roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns imagine #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #the bloodline #the tribal chief #roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns x original character #roman reigns x black original character #paul heyman #solo sikoa #jey uso #jimmy uso #wwe fic #the law of obsession

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futbolfatale · 1 year ago

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Our Omega

Pairing: Select Lionesses x reader

Tags: Omegaverse, Sight Kidnapping, Fast burn, Love at first Smell.

Summary: large packs are normal but you never expected to be in a pack with players from the England lionesses. I hate this but I needed to expel my demons.

Word Count: 2.6K

You weren't ever really interested in Fútbol well in the women yes but not so much in the logistics and rules. So one time when your new Alpha coworker Amber offered to bring you to an England lionesses game you were really just interested in seeing pretty girls. Which is how you are here is a sweaty crowded stadium watching England play France. The weather was almost as hot as the players, meaning you were sweating out your eyeballs. But it's worth it for the front row view you are getting. “ Do you think they are going to win?” Amber asks, leaning slightly into your space. You've only worked with her a couple of times and she definitely likes you more than you like her.

She seems to be confident in herself as if everyone owes her something. “They're going to win”.You don't move your eyes off of the pitch. The whole game she has been asking you technical questions you don't know the answer to. She doesn’t understand that just enjoying the view she has to know everything. It is more than a little frustrating.

You by some grace of god manage to zone out for the remainder of the match only nodding and humming as she talks beside you. Once the match is over the wind picks up rather drastically blowing from behind you and across the pitch meaning anyone standing close can smell the sweat on your skin.”You smell good “ Amber whispers her voice deeper than usual. You really should have told her you weren’t interested. “Thanks” you try to gather your bag and wrestle your coat back onto your body. You're so focused on getting everything together so you can get out of this crowded place that you don't notice someone jogging up to the barrier.

”Hey you” A alpha voice growls from below you. You whip around in surprise. Millie Bright is standing on the other side of the barrier pointing directly at you. You point to yourself with a curious look surely she couldn't mean you. “Yes you come here” she curls her finger and it is like some part of your omega brain is triggered as you shuffle to be right against the barrier. “Smell me” You do a double take because there is no way in hell she is insinuating what you think she is. Mates can recognize each other by scent and she seems to think you are fated. Who are you to deny this beautiful woman's claims? So Of course you lean over the barrier smelling the junction of her neck and should deeply. She smells strongly of bergamot and vanilla; it's almost intoxicating. You pull back slightly dizzying from the overpowering smell. “I knew it was you. Did you come here with anyone.” Millie questions your head still spinning, you only point to Amber. “Who is that?” Her growl is only low enough you can hear it but it is still terrifying. “A coworker, I think she was trying to get me to go out with her.” You mumble leaning in for more of Millie's scent. “That's not happening “You yelp as you are pulled over the barrier. “Hey that's my date you can’t just go off stealing her”Amber shouts but Millie doesn't even offer her a glance back.

Millie shifts you to rest comfortably on her back. You can’t seem to bring yourself to care about the full stadium of people around you watching or videoing you. “Who is that? '' You recognize Lucy Bronze in her accent alone. Her voice is just as intoxicating as Millie's scent. “Smell her” Mllie prompts as Lucy circles around her to get a better look at you. You can't help the giggle that escapes you when she nuzzles her face into your neck. “I am jealous of Your nose mill Never would have smelled her from over here.” Lucy has appreciation clear in her voice. “‘I think I should go home” Your mind starts to clear and suddenly all of this is hitting you really hard. “Baby you're going to be alright Mills And I will take great care of you and just wait till Leah Hears about you she will be ecstatic.”Lucy's hand rubs over your back as Millie's purr fills the air around you again pulling you back into a manipulatable state.

When you mind finally returns to you you are in the back of a car tucked into someones lap.”Hello love” Its leah fucking williamson holding tucked to her chest like her favorite teddy bear. “Love you need to calm down or I will start Purring” Leah runs her hand over your back in soft circles. “You are safe we are going to get you home and get you fed. How does that sound.” Leah asks, wiggling her eyebrows for added effect. ”I was thinking Ham sandwiches,” Leah offers with a smile on her face. Now that she says it you are hungry. “She doesn’t want a ham sandwich Lee” You peek up from Leah to see Mary Earps navigate the car through traffic. “She seemed to think a ham Sandwich sounded pretty good, didn't you love it?” She asks softly, nuzzling at you. “A ham sandwich is okay. Whatever is easy, I don't want to be a bother.” You smile at Mary in the rearview. “You're never a bother, love your omega . We will do anything we can to take care of you.” Mary's tone is softer than you've ever heard in any interview ever. “Thank you”

“You don’t have to thank us. Love , we want to take care of you and do nice things for you.'' Leah smiles, pulling you close into her.``Were Here” Mary sings songs pulling into a gravel driveway. “Is that her?” You hear someone call as Mary opens the door and walks around to help Leah out. Mary opens the door and reaches out for you”You can walk if you want but you might still be drowsy and the gravel is sharp if you fall.” Mary explains as you let her lift you out of the car. ”Hi Im Ella that's Less over there with the blonde hair. She is a little nervous” Ella laughs as Less sheepishly jogs to catch up with Mary. “Mary kicks the door open and slips her shoes off. “Less Tooney Why don't you two go get the bags from the car” Mary is more telling then asking and the girls complain but still surender and go back to the car.

“Georgia Go straighten up the nest please” Mary asks the girl resting on the sofa. “It's really her” Georgia’s voice. “You can Gawk over her later go get the nest sorted” Mary ushers her up stairs and sets you down in the spot Georgia vacated. “Stay Here Mills is in the kitchen. I want to make sure she is making you something other than a ham sandwich. “Mary says with a roll of her eyes. She clicks the tv on to a random channel and walks off leaving you alone and questioning everything going on around you. Surely this has to be some kind of weird dream. There is no way Some of the most famous football players in the world are mated to you.

“What are you so stressed about? I can Smell you from all the way across the house” Lucy Collapses into the sofa next to you. “It's just a little Sudden I go from no mates to I don't even know” You run your hand through your sweaty hair. “Seven. you have Seven Mates.” Lucy sets her Head down in your lap and you can't help the wave of calmness that overtakes your body simply from having your Alpha This close. “Seven is so many” You groan slouching back into the arm of the sofa. “Seven makes for a healthy pack. You have your alpha prime, that's Mills. Then you Alphas Leah, Mary, and Me. Then Your Delta Rachel You have your betas. Ella Alessia and Georgia.Then you are a beautiful sweet image.`` ''You guys don't even know me” You run a hand through Lucy's impossibly soft hair. “Not yet but The girls will remedy that at dinner always a million and one questions.” You can practically hear Luce's eye roll.

“Dinner is ready” Marys sings songs from what you can assume is the kitchen. “We should get you some food before there isn't any left.” Lucy's stands and pulls you up behind her. You tail after her and she doesn't let go of your hands. The table is set and the room is empty save for Mary. “ Mills wanted to get changed, just sit and I'll get dinner dished out” Mary gestures to the table before retreating back into the kitchen. “Sit here” Lucy pushes you into a chair and pushes you flush with the table not leaving any room for argument. “I'm going to help Mary stay here” Luce presses a kiss to the top of your head before evicting the room. You're barely alone a second before Rachel comes barrelling into the room. “Ahh there you are. Those girls have been hiding you away from me” She slides in “Hey” It feels so surreal to be talking to these women as if they are everyday people and not super famous. “I'm Rachel but you probably knew that considering you were at our game” She has a slight teasing tone to her voice that you find yourself really enjoying. ”how do you feel? I know the girls can be a little too much when they are all together” Her voice has such genuine concern in it that your heart hurts. ”I feel A little overwhelmed. It's just so sudden one moment I am watching a football game and the next minute freaking millie bright is pulling me over the barricade and telling me I am her mate. I just don’t know how we move forward from this.” It feels nice to tell someone about the thoughts that have been racing around your head for the past couple of Hours. ”First we decide if you want to keep your job. Then if you want to move in with us which I think is best but you can do whatever you think is best for now. That's all the decisions that need to be made right now.” Rach sounds like she has done this a time or too before. “And Mating bonds' ' That was the real problem here. You wanted to mate them to have them inside of you with their teeth on your skin but how could you even know what they expect. “If you want to do it today we will or the girls will wait. They might not be ecstatic about it but they will get over it.” Rachels hand finds itself wrapped around the back of your chair, her hand resting on your shoulder. “I think I would like to at least start tonight. I might not want to go all the way through but I want to try. I want to be mated to you guys. All I have ever wanted was to have a pack of my own. ''You let out a shriek as the door bursts open and ella and less fall into a pile on the floor.

“Girls you know how rude it is to eavesdrop.”Rache looks mock aghast as the girls scramble to make themselves presentable. “Who has been eavesdropping” Millie comes in behind less and ella and they at least have the heart to look embarrassed.” I was trying to have a healthy conversation about the emotions our omega was going through but these two decided to drop in.” Rachel Eplains as millie finds her spot at the head of the table. “You two know better than to eavesdrop you're on dishes” Mille scolds her alpha voice coming through slightly due to her frustration. “But we were on dishes last night,” Ella complains, sinking into her seat. “And the night before” Less adds with a pout. “Sounds Like you two are in a whole lot of trouble” You can't help the words as they escape your mouth. “How dare you we are the sweetest nicest girls you could ever be graced with the presence of” Ella argues making direct eye contact with you as if daring you to challenge her claim. “You can’t be in here lying to our omega she doesn't know any better yet” Mary enters the room with a large glass pan full of lasagna cradled in her arms. Luce enters behind her a salad and dresses in her arms. “Where did Georgia and Leah run Off too.”Millie questions cutting into the lasagna. “I think they were making sure the nest is clean for her” Luce starts putting salad on people's plates. “I can get my own food Luce” You are trying to pull away your plate. “Do you see any of these girls making their plates?” Luce raises an eyebrow as you look down into your lap. “No” You mumble not bringing yourself to look her in the eyes. “Let Me make your plate for you” Luce prys the plate out of your hand and sets it back on the table in front of you after there is an adequate amount of food on it. Georgia and Leah come running into the room just as all of the plates are dished up. “Georgia, would you mind grabbing the pop?” Georgia rolls her eyes but hurries down the hall in search of the pop.

Once dinner and all two hundred and one questions are done a bath is a welcome relaxation. Until you realize Georgia is intent on joining you in said bath. “ Just get in, I'll go you in a minute” Georgia leaves before you have the chance to say anything. Leaving you to strip and sink into the seamting bath all by yourself.You almost find yourself falling asleep as the comforting smells of the bath oils georgia used fill your nose. “I have snacks' ' Georgia hurries into the bathroom startling you out for your thoughts. “I have ice cream and pop” Georgia sets the ice cream and a red beverage that must be the pop down next to the bath before stripping off her clothes. “Lean forward so I can Get Behind ya” Georgia barley utters the words before you're moving to comply. She slips into the bath behind you and pulls you to her chest as soon as she is settled. “Here luv” Georgia presses the ice cream into your hands and sets about washing your hair. You would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it. Plus that ice cream is good cherry Garcia is truly the way to a girl's heart. I mean who could deny such a sweet woman.

By the time you're done with your bath, all you want to do is curl up in your nest well. If they even have a nest I mean what pack wouldn’t have a nest. Georgia wraps you in a fluffy towel and carries you into a bedroom. There is a large circle bed built into the floor while their nest-building skills could use work it was habitable at least for the night. “Here Baby” Alessia handed you a shirt and a soft pair of boxers. You change into them and crawl into the net, your body sinking into the plush material. Soon after you lay down the rest join and a blanket is tossed over you. You can't help yourself as you drift off to sleep surrounded by your soon-to-be mates.

#woso community #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso soccer #woso one shot #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #woso #millie bright x reader #mary earps x reader #mary earps imagine #ella toone #alessia russo #rachel daly

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joi-ryde · 24 days ago

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it's officially solstice month for us Northern Hemisphere folks! ☀️

we're talking languid, hot days burning into steamier nights—monsters tied to the seasons hitting their mid-year ruts with the zenith of the solar calendar in June.

what better way to celebrate the midpoint of the year than with a scribble about a horned forest god and a reader who can only hope to outrun her fate (or perhaps not?)

(this was inspired by that cunty demon deer man, you know the one)

Horned God x Reader, Part One

male!god(demon?) x fem!reader, monster romance, blood, references to cannibalism, no smut (for now...later parts smut, we're building to it)

You've been trying to escape him for hours, and all you've managed to do is run out of daylight.

Soon, you're going to be bolting through the dark, and falling into a ravine is going to kill you quicker than whatever is chasing you.

His forest domain has become a maze that confounds your sense of direction and leaves you feeling completely lost—a familiar rock there, a thicket that has already been tagged with a torn piece of your shirt.

You double over and feel a stabbing, sharp pain between your ribs as you try to catch your breath.

The god, or demon, is fucking with you. You're certain of it as you stand there sweating through a pair of jogging shorts and your ragged, grass-stained tee shirt, collecting your thoughts on what the hell you could do next to escape a grim outcome.

And what is it that makes you think you're in for a bad ending like the final girl in a slasher flick?

Well, you're a soft eighty percent certain that the cultists who snatched you off the walking trail did so with a mind to giftwrap their chosen deity (possibly a demon, but then again one person's demon is another guy's deity) a whole ass snack.

Their setup had indicated as much. You were positioned, kicking and screaming, in a summoning circle, your palm cut, and erupting out of the very fabric of reality when your blood hit the chalk marks on the ground was a seven-foot, horned entity.

But what seemed off-script from what you anticipated next (being immediately devoured) was that everyone, even the monster the cultists called a god, seemed oddly perplexed you had slipped your bindings and bolted into the undergrowth.

What's also off-script about this situation?

The god has taken a flirty shine to you little ole you during this long pursuit. His purring interest has been constant over the last hour especially.

He asks after your name, which you refuse to give him.

He wheedles you to stop running, for he so wishes to speak candidly with you. You ignore him.

He praises your courage, your steadfast resistance, and you tell him to fuck off straight to Hell where he came from. That only makes him laugh.

"Darling, are you going to keep making such a fuss about this?"

Again with the pet names.

The voice is like sticking a tuning fork between your teeth. It reverberates in your bones and strokes over your nerves at the same time as if to say 'There, there.'

It projects from no one place in the forest clearing surrounding you. It's everywhere. It's nowhere.

"I am not," you spit, "your fucking darling, asshole!"

Is he trying to scare you afresh? Does prey that is especially keyed up with fear taste better? Does terror from the chase sweeten the meat?

You've stopped being afraid and now are only working yourself into a lather of curiosity and peevish annoyance.

And then the god steps out of your goddamn shadow and looms over you. You're frozen to the spot. Your legs, burning with the strain of having run for so long, crumple under you like wet paper. You grip the long grass underneath for something to hold onto.

It's your first good look at him.

Your panicked brain registers clawed hands that are blackened velveteen fading into pale skin once they reach his corded biceps. A sharp-featured face peers down at you with lazy, amused curiosity dancing in his red eyes.

The rack of antlers sweeping high from the crown of his dark-haired head almost brushes the lowest branch of the tree you're under.

"What a temper on you," he purrs, adding with dripping emphasis, "darling."

Oh, for fuck's sake, you despair. Of course he's hot.

Outwardly, you put on the tough, unflappable act that has gotten you out of tight squeezes. "Look, I get you've got to put on the whole big and bad act, but I need you to please cut the shit and speed this up."

The horned god rests an elbow on the trunk of the nearby alder. He leers down at you with that same faint amusement, drumming his claws against the bark of the tree. You try not to look at the gouge marks even this minor contact causes. It sizzles the wood, burning it.

"I've never had a mortal ask me to speed things along. It's quite refreshing from the usual drivel."

This devastatingly attractive god has a voice like oil: smooth, slippery, and a fucking peril to let it saturate your hearing.

He's wearing a skirt-kilt thing knotted around his angular waist that reminds you of all the artfully draped cloth over statues of Lucifer post-fall from grace.

The rest of his towering body filling your vision is a leanly muscled, naked chest covered in whorls of inked markings. His appearance is as hypnotic as his voice. You're dizzy with pinning your eyes on one spot. Pale, dark, pale, dark.

You resolve that you're going to die how you have lived: running off at the mouth and meeting his unflinching eye contact with a steely glare.

"Are you usually this much of a snotty asshole when it comes to appeasing those sycophants who ring your lunch bell? Give them a little dinner theater for their trouble?"

The god lets out an airy, amused chuckle, more of a giggle, really. Look at you! You've got the seven-foot killing machine tittering like a schoolgirl.

"I've no desire to consume you," he patiently reassures, and then he crouches down to your seated level. He reaches for you with his dark claws. "Now give me your hand, please."

He asks politely, genteelly, like it's the most normal thing in the world to request you stick out your arm, and by the by, he's not here to fucking eat you. In fact, he's here to be the very spirit of politeness.

Maybe you should humor him. You're in no position to refuse. Your legs are going numb from how they're folded under you.

"Which one?"

"The one they cut, of course," he says.

An impatient waggle of his big hand reminds you you're taking too long to go along with this. You do as he says and try not to flinch when his hand, dwarfing yours, is so big that his fingers close over your wrist when he cradles it.

His tongue lolls out, he leans in, and it's then you get a look at the serrated teeth he's sporting. They gleam like a knife in the fading light of dusk, and you let out a soft, shocked sound when the dark, leonine roll of the god's tongue swipes the wound.

It's clotted since you began fleeing through the woods, but the rake of his textured tongue, rough and firm, abrades the flesh and opens it anew.

It stings, and you want to jerk your hand back, but his hold is iron. There's a contented rumble that comes from the air around you. It reverberates the ground you're sprawled across, tickling your skin and raising hairs in its wake. And then it emanates from him; alright, he's into it.

A little too into it.

A fleeting thought of him wrenching your arm from its socket so he can chew on it like a choice bone makes you want to pass out, so you hold firm and let him lave over the wound like suffering the attentions of an overly large dog.

And then the cut starts to tingle. It feels...nice. When he relinquishes your hand after a minute of therapeutic licking and ground-vibrating purring, all that's left of the wound is a fresh, pink scar.

"I might have to revise my statement," he informs you gravely, still crouched. His elbows are set into his powerful thighs and his deadly hands hang idle between them.

"Which one?" you ask, dreading his answer. You clutch your newly healed hand to your throat, instinctually guarding a weak spot that those terrible teeth could rip and tear.

"The bit about not consuming you. Frankly, you're fucking delicious, darling."

And then you see a subtle twitch at the corner of one of his red eyes—a tell.

He's joking.

You call him out on his bullshit immediately.

"Oh, fuck off, man."

He laughs uproariously, slapping his knee, and you have to restrain yourself from reaching out to shove him onto his back. He topples over in his mirth, sprawling out on his side like a lion lazing in the last rays of sunlight.

Any residual terror fades to amused annoyance. Of all the gods to summon, you get the teaser. You are, for now, safe. He can call you darling all day long if it means you keep a pulse.

"No, but in all seriousness," he sobers, digging an elbow in the springy grass so he can rest his great, antlered head on his fist. "We're in a bit of a bind, darling."

How he puts that statement to you is like you're on the same team, folding in for a huddle to discuss the next big move, and plotting out the winning strategy.

The sun dips behind the horizon and the cascade of light illuminating the forest snuffs out like a candle.

"How so?" you lean in cautiously, mindful of your proximity to his antlers. It'd be the worst to poke your eye out on one of his prongs, and you don't want to find out if him licking your eyeball will restore your sight.

"The folk back in the glade aren't winning any prizes at summoning, I'm afraid to say. The nature of their ritual they used to call me to this plane is more...carnal, to tell you true, and meant to benefit you more than them."

Oh. Oh.

"Like a sex thing?" you venture, picking at the grass beneath your hands.

"Not entirely. That particular summoning binds a bride to me, not my dinner."

(AN: Holler if you want to be tagged when I post PT. 2!)

#terato #monster fucker #monster smut #joi writes #joi ryde #monster romance #teratophillia #god x reader #demon x reader #monster husband

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justporo · 2 years ago

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Hi! Could I please get some headcanons or a drabble of Astarion x anemic!Tav and how things may differ when it comes to him feeding on them, how he'd take care of them if they needed it, etc? Would love to see what you come up with. Thank you for your time! 💜

Hello and thank you very much, Anon! Since I'm actually hit with the Bloodless debuff today myself... What else could I have written?

This is a very sweet idea to write something - which I took and then made it sarcastic... I hope you like it.

Also - idk why, but for this I pictured Tav as velnna's Staeve - you probably know who I'm talking about and if you don't you should very quickly go over there and find out, because I love Steven and you should really give this incredible incredible artist who has contributed so much to this fandom a lot of love. All the love. (I didn't wanna tag them because I didn't know if it was okay and didn't want to annoy them but go check out their blog!!)

Pairing: Astarion / Tav (You) Wordcount: 1,6k

Bloodless

The sun was burning in the sky. You felt sweat almost drip from your skin. Every step seemed to be harder than the last one. Your heart was fluttering although your pulse seemed flat. Damn this Mountain Pass.

You and the rest of the party had been hiking through the mountains for days. It was exhausting for everyone, but especially for you it seemed. Surely, the fact that you had offered Astarion your blood almost every other night (and that he was always very keen and graciously grateful to take it) had quite obviously to do with how much your stamina had dwindled.

But you knew offering up your blood was very much helpful. Not only to the vampire, but the party as a whole: Astarion had basically become a menace on the battlefield since he’d been able to feed properly. Also, you were stubborn – a bit of missing blood wouldn’t knock you out. Or would it?

You tripped on a loose stone and almost face-planted on the ground. Only in the last moment were you able to catch yourself and dampen the fall with your arms. You quickly got up again and hoped no one had noticed since you’d dropped to being the last in the group today.

But trying to raise yourself so quickly had been a mistake and you suddenly felt overly woozy, your vision blurring and you were immediately back on one knee.

And of course, it hadn’t gone unnoticed: Astarion had been in front of you and had seemingly been alarmed by the noise of your fall – twice.

“What is it, Tav, got too distracted looking at my back, hm?”, he taunted and came over to where you were doubled over – leaning on your arms too now because you felt so dizzy all of a sudden that you felt you had need of all of your four limbs on the ground to support you.

When the vampire realised you weren’t getting up and also didn’t respond to his quip in your usual witty manner, he quickly gave the others a shout to let them know not to go too far ahead. Then he came over to you. You were desperately trying to not pass out when you saw the hands of the pale elf through your blurred vision reaching for you.

“You do hear me, yes?”, Astarion whispered to you. You could only nod curtly. His hands hesitantly touched your shoulders.

“Alright, can you get up? There’s a big stone over there where you could sit down.” You shook your head which made you even dizzier.

“Oh hm”, Astarion seemed a little helpless on how to proceed with you. You felt him turn away.

“Don’t tell the others!”, you exclaimed breathlessly. The vampire whipped around: “But�� why?” “Just don’t please”, you whispered and carefully looked up at his face. Was that… actual worry?

“Please just… Help me sit on this rock, let me have some water… and rest and we’ll keep going in a few minutes”, you pleaded with him. Astarion didn’t look completely convinced but sighed in defeat after a few of your racing heartbeats.

“Alright – could you please not die for a moment while I go and talk to the others?”, he said in a sassy tone that couldn’t completely gloss over the worry in his voice.

You let your head fall down again and simply nodded. Astarion went off towards the rest of your companions.

Ever so slowly you felt a little bit better. Cautiously you knelt back onto your feet – at least not on all fours anymore! Shortly after you tried to carefully get up and move over to the rock Astarion had mentioned.

That was when the vampire returned. “Oh no no, you stay right where you are, you poor helpless creature that would have perished already had it not been for me.” He ran the last few feet over and grabbed one of your arms to slowly put it around his neck and help you get up and walk over to sit on the boulder. You wanted to say something witty at his taunt, but your mind was too blank.

“Also, we are actually taking a break – all of us, so don’t even try to keep on walking”, he scolded you as he placed you down.

“What did you tell the others?”, you asked simply as you placed your forearms on your thighs and just sat leaning forward like that for a little. “Tss, does it matter now? Something like I broke a nail of mine and needed a moment to mourn it or whatever”, Astarion replied annoyedly.

“Can’t believe they actually stopped for that”, you said slowly and chuckled with your head between your knees and threw up a look at your vampiric companion. “Yeah well, seems they care a lot about my wellbeing. And I take it they would about yours, too”, he gave back – again very sassily. You just chuckled but didn’t reply. You saw that he relaxed a little.

“Ah here. You should probably drink and eat a little”, the vampire said after a while of the two of you just sitting there. He offered you a water bottle and some berries from a pouch – both of which weren’t his for obvious reasons.

You narrowed your eyes at him: “Where did you get those?” “By the Gods, you are so reluctant to help, I should’ve left you in the dirt.” Astarion rolled his eyes at you. “The druid gave it to me – you’re not as inconspicuous as you might believe, oh mighty leader of our adventure troupe.” You had a desire to punch this cheeky elf but you knew you were in no condition to act on something like this, so you sighed and first took the water and then started to munch on some berries from the offered pouch.

Silence spread once more between the two of you. Before Astarion broke it again: “Listen, Tav, darling, I know this must be because you’re letting me drink your blood so often.” You immediately wanted to start protesting but the vampire hushed you, brows furrowed.

“No, for once, you’ll let me do the talking. Don’t think I’m blind – your form has been declining for quite some time now. We can’t go on like this. I mean, Halsin has also noticed already.” You stayed silent and kept popping berries in your mouth and silently thanked the druid for his kind gesture – even if you didn’t want the others to know of this weakness. You slowly started to feel better.

“As much as I enjoy our little late night… sessions. We should probably take a break – at least concerning these particular ones. And maybe later, keep longer breaks in between if you insist to keep throwing yourself at me to drink your blood”, Astarion continued and sighed theatrically.

He tried so hard to be sarcastic about the whole thing, but you noticed that he was actually worried, judging by the guilty glint in his red eyes. And maybe it was that the blood loss was affecting your brain too much but you stared at him and just dryly said: “You know, you could just admit that you care about me, Astarion.”

The vampire huffed in surprise, then he sneered with a click of his tongue: “Bah, of course I do, you seem to be the only one to get this group of clowns to work together after all. It’s not like I care for you much as a person. As a blood bag maybe, but other than that…”

You pursed your lips and let him ramble, digging his own verbal grave by trying to talk himself out of it.

You didn’t even reply afterwards, just let him steep in the own awkwardness he created.

You kept looking at him – even offered him a berry, he scrunched his nose at – then shrugged and ate it yourself.

You slowly opened your water bottle…

“Okay, maybe a little. Tiny bit. Because you’re the only one in the group who seems to have a real sense of humour – at least when you’re not lying in the dirt being a dried out husk”, Astarion exclaimed.

You grinned at him wolfishly and shook the last of the berries from the small bag into your mouth ignoring his insult. “Now, wasn’t even that hard, was it? I really like you to, Astarion”, you said and then slowly stood up – careful not to immediately make a fool of yourself again.

“I liked you better when you were staring at the dirt up close”, the vampire replied and jumped up while crossing his arms over his chest, then sauntered away.

“Sure, if that’s what you need to tell yourself”, you kept teasing and slowly went after the brooding vampire.

You met up with the rest of the camp then went on your way for the rest of the day. The others were already so used to the two of you missing from the camp at the same time (mostly during nighttime, of course) that they didn’t even look up when the two of you came back.

Later when you all had settled down for the night you saw that Astarion went over to Halsin and talked to him softly. They both threw you looks in between which made you uncomfortable because you certainly could imagine what the topic was. Before Astarion had also made sure you’d gotten the first serving of tonight’s dinner (and also seconds).

Even later when the others were already at rest the vampire confessed, he’d been asking the druid about how he could go about drinking your blood without putting too much of a strain on you. Again, you noticed that he seemed not only concerned about his blood rations when he explained that to you.

The next days you also noticed that Astarion had started carrying some water and the bag from Halsin containing the berries.

And you thought to yourself that – for a blood bag – Astarion seemed to put an awful lot of thought and action into making sure you were okay.

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #halsin #drabble #one shot

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essentiallyleaf · 2 years ago

Text

day 07. public sex. with. soojin, zoa.

2388 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x idol x male reader, reader has the tiniest hint of rizz, but is still a loser at heart, public sex, double blowjob, standing doggy, pussy eating, fingering, stand & carry, 1mg of rimming, very smut heavy, basically unedited, complete mess.

notes.

horny + tired sounds like a recipe for terrible writing. and i don’t really know if it is, since i basically haven’t read this back :] generically, leaf.

“I need this now” and “Take me here” might be the exact and only two sentences that could get you to do anything, anytime, anywhere. But that’s a hypothetical, and despite the inhibition of three Manhattans and a couple beers, castles in the sky crumble when you hear those exact words come out of those two’s sweetly curled and devilishly full and luscious lips in the middle of the dance floor.

You didn’t really know them that well. They go to the stationery shop you work at fairly frequently (every other Friday between 3 and 5 p.m., they usually hover around the notebook and colored pens sections, try a bunch of them out - like, sooo many, can they not recite the entire color palette by heart yet? - while laughing you can’t really tell at what, then come to the checkout with about exactly one sharpie and two big smiles, and then leave. What? No, you don’t remember them particularly more than any other customer. Why would you?), but you’d never really talked. That’s why you’re surprised when they approach you on a random Saturday night at the club, talking about which their favorite drinks solely based on color are and how, if bonsai are a thing, there must be a way to make humans exist in tiny, and what if they’re out there now, going around untying shoelaces and stealing any small item that falls to the ground? They don’t look drunk, they look happy, which is a different thing. Aren’t they just talking about gnomes, anyway (which, by the way, definitely exist)?

It’s not how they wear those good girl smiles a second before sandwiching you while dancing, their bodies pressed against yours. Soojin from behind, pawing at your pecs and slowly kissing your neck up to the back of your ear, Hyewon in front of you but facing away, her ass literally rubbing against your now visible erection while she takes your hands and moves them from her hips, to her exposed belly, up to her boobs.

It’s not how she turns her head to kiss you and that smile is still there, like she’s playing a game, like this is just harmless fun between friends. Yeah, friends, you think, until the deer eyed girl turns around to face the two of you, her hands reaching around you and landing on Soojin’s ass and switches from your mouth to hers. What made you think they were just friends again? You’d think of an answer, but you’re distracted by the older girl’s hand venture lower towards your dick, which she starts stroking through your pants.

It’s not even how the three of you (and you in particular) now look like a complete mess right in the middle of the club, your bodies rubbing on each other’s in feral hunger, your tongues entangling with burning lust. It’s really not that.

It’s how pairs of eyes turn towards that filthy scene. Initially just a couple passing peeks, then a few more, longer gazes, mixing aversion with slight arousal, until the whole club is aware of the tonguing, the groping and the humping. And while some of them walk away, the people who stay seem turned on by the scene, as if intoxicated by the scent of your libido.

It really should just be embarrassing for you. And at the start, it was. To be left open-mouthed in front of a live audience like a comically fat dead trout in a fishing contest while two, admittedly gorgeous, girls alternately brush, squeeze and hump your dick wasn’t exactly your proudest moment. But somehow, that embarrassment coexisted with a sense of excitement. And as the two keep making a toy for their pleasure out of you, the latter only grows stronger and ends up completely overpowering the former.

That’s why when Soojin asks “Wanna go to the bathroom?”, the only possible answer is “Why not here~?”

“There’s not enough space”

The crowd was in fact big and quite cramped around the three of you. You are left without choice as she takes you and Hyewon by the arm and leads you towards a small black door right by the bar.

The girls throw you into the wall and kneel in front of you before the door even closes. Four hands take your belt off, or rather attempt to for a while before getting it (it probably would have been easier if only one person did it, but you don’t dare suggest it), then pull your pants and your boxers down. You can still hear clearly not only the music, but every scream coming from the room you were just in (these walls suck, even for club bathroom standards).

Your cock, already erect thanks to the scene you three made back there, falls right in the middle of their expecting faces, and all they have to do is stretch their necks a little further to start sprinkling it with wet kisses and short licks and already causing you to shed some precum. They more or less intentionally happen to move towards your base and take a longer lick up to the tip of your dick, where they collect your nectar and meet in a French kiss. Actually, that’s not even a kiss, more like their tongues messily exchanging three people’s fluids while completely outside either’s mouths, and it looks fucking filthy.

Soojin is the first to wrap her lips around your head and start slowly but steadily bobbing, taking a slightly larger portion of you in her mouth each time. Hyewon, leaving no time wasted, travels further towards your balls, first getting them wet with her saliva, then alternatively taking one in her mouth and sucking it hungrily, seemingly having the time of her life. The older girl, despite the small size of her mouth, fits almost three quarters of your length in her cavern, even managing to keep herself there and brush the underside of your cock while sucking.

“Unnie, leave some for me!”

Soojin makes way for her friend/tongue buddy, who seems immediately much more feisty, though likely less experienced, sacrificing technique for power and a much faster pace. The older gathers Hyewon’s hair together in a makeshift ponytail and starts licking from her jaw and cheek to around her ear, while the younger, gifted with a bigger mouth, is basically already deepthroating you. You hold your hands around her head and push the last bit in, her eyes watering a little as you hold position for a good fifteen seconds. And, cut.

“You okay?”

“Fuck, that was fun!”

This deer eyed slut just deepthroated you without you batting an eye (well, you were quite lost in pleasure yourself, your eyes quite literally rolling to the back of your hair, but you know), and you’re surprised that she swears?

People could literally step into the bathroom at any point, but honestly, the thought is not even passing your mind. Actually, some might have even walked beside you while you were filling their mouths with your hardness, it’s honestly just too hard to pay attention to anything else, with these two. That’s why you can’t even fathom worrying about the rest of the people in the club, even with what happens next.

Soojin drops her jeans along with her light blue panties and sits on the long counter that connects all the sinks together, running along the entire length of the bathroom below the mirror, while Hyewon bends over in front of her, glancing at the other girl with a playful smile before feasting on her gorgeous pink pussy. You only need to get behind her, bunch her white tennis skirt up on her waist and pull her black panties down and to the floor. Her lips are fat, her slit clean and shiny. You look back at her underwear, and notice a wet patch in the center, not particularly small, either.

“Did you cum just by humping me back there?”

“Maybee~”

You hold your tongue out and take one long lick across her womanhood as she lets a moan out and into the older girl’s crotch. Her sweet scent, her soft texture, her perfect taste are- fuck it, you need your dick in that pussy. So stand up again, align yourself to her, and push it in.

Hyewon is tight, but even moreso, she’s warm. Her hole welcomes you like that’s all she was waiting for all night, like you’re her guest and she wants to make sure you know she prepared. And as you slowly thrust into her, making sure to use your hips to hit every little spot, every patch of her pussy, she lets a constant stream of guttural groans into the one she’s eating herself. Soojin can’t help but push the younger’s face into her crotch, stimulated not only by her tongue, taking trips now on her lips, now in her slit, now on top of her pink clit, but also by the vibrations of her lewd sounds, resonating in her cavern and expanding all over her body.

As you grip the girl’s asscheeks tightly, you start picking up the pace, but she immediately reaches a hand behind her and on your wrist. You slow down again, and her whimpers tell you that this is the rhythm she wants you to hold. In fact, her lower abdomen starts tensing up as a sign that her peak is near. She wants something else. She detaches from the older’s pussy, leaving her disappointed and cutely pouting, and takes small quick steps forward towards the counter, until her face is almost reaching the Soojin’s. She then zips her white top fully down. The older, in a better position to take care of it, gets the hint and rids herself of her top as well as her white strapless bra, leaving them beside one of the sinks. Hyewon takes a millisecond after that to attack her friend’s perfectly sized soft tits with her mouth and left hand, and her hole with her right.

The older is completely thrown off by the sudden initiative and the resulting pleasure it brings to her erogenous zones, and she starts moaning uncontrollably. The younger can’t hold it much longer. Her mouth leaves her friend’s boobs to meet her lips in another tongue filled spectacle. Two fingers from her right hand slide in and out of Soojin’s slit, while her thumb circles around her clit. The older’s also so close. But you’re the one who will make the final move.

You bend down towards Hyewon’s body, reach around and under her black one-shoulder top to feel and fondle her big fluffy mounds as you keep pumping your girth into her, and that ends her.

She washes your cock with the whirlwind of her juices while she contracts repeatedly around you and releases the lowest moan of the night. That in turn triggers her friend’s peak, in her case the liquid sprays on the younger’s hand and wrist and her hips buckle as she reaches to the mirror behind her for support.

Hyewon falls to her knees. Both girls are panting for oxygen, but the one you just fucked seems particularly spent from it.

“You good?”

She nods, and shows you her index finger: “One second”

You turn your head back up.

“Can you do it?”

“Can you~?”

This bitch. You step closer to the counter and wrap your hands around the underside of Soojin’s milky, meaty thighs to spread them open even more. You share a glance with her, and she looks fucking obscene. Her hair has lost its parting, her forehead covered in sweat. That lower lip always just kind of hanging there, like she needs something to fill her mouth at all times. So you kiss her hungrily, and she lets your tongue in her mouth like she’s craving it, like she’s begging for it.

Meanwhile, you guide your head to her slit and part it, slowly entering her cavern. She is so tight. She whines softly into your mouth as you get deeper and deeper. Once you’re fully in, you give her a second to get used to your girth.

“My neck. Your arms around my neck”

She obeys as you immediately raise her from the counter and carry her towards the center of the bathroom as you start pumping into her tight heaven.

Who fucking cares at this point, people could walk in on you and you would thank them. They’d love to have a cock big like yours, to have a girl as beautiful as yours, and to fuck the former into the latter like you’re doing right now. No. They’d just have to watch, like some pathetic frat boys peeping at an older girl they couldn’t even pray to get.

Your hands grab onto Soojin’s ass so you can bounce her pelvis on yours while pushing up, accentuating the movement, as she keeps kissing you like her life depends on it. You feel your orgasm building up.

Then, you feel something below you. Hyewon, revitalized after her orgasm, is now kneeling below you, open-mouth kissing your dick, your balls, her friend’s slit and, you guess, anything else she might find in the way. This girl can truly never be idle. Meanwhile, as you get closer and closer, you switch to quick, single, powerful thrusts. One. Two. And-

You feel Hyewon’s tongue brush your asshole. It’s a sensation you never felt before, it kind of tickles, but it almost stings, at the same time. What it surely does, is to make you cum on the spot. You fire multiple shots of white liquid into Soojin’s pussy, the sensation making her scream (they definitely heard this one outside) and triggering her waterfall a second time, and as only so much matter can fill such a tight space, all of her squirt and probably most of your cum end up dripping down and coating Hyewon’s face. Her mouth is promptly open, so she gets to taste your combined fluids.

She shuffles them around her cheeks for a while, then one big swallow.

“Yummy~”

“Fuck, Hyewon. Was that on purpose?”

“Huh?”

“Your tongue”

“Oh! Well, did you like iiit?”

“He fucking came as soon as you touched him! What do you think?”

“Well, let’s see if it happens a second time, then”

footnotes.

it’s 4am. god. finally, leaf.

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onboardsorasora · 7 months ago

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I was thinking about reverse age gap maxiel because let's be real, I'm always thinking about them. Did Max record a good luck message for Daniel's super licence test, do you think? How did Daniel cope with that? Does Max remember doing that when Daniel turns up as his teammate? Had they met before (like the Zandvoort karting day)?

oh bestie thank you for this! I was saying I wanted to write something for these two but didn't know what. Thanks for the prompt. this kinda got away from me lmao

Parts 1, 2 and 3 can be found here the reverse age gap tag is here I need to add this to my masterlist today part 5

900wds 😈😈😈

Daniel had thought Max was so nice, a really awesome guy. When the guy from marketing had shown him the video, he’d cheesed so hard his sister had texted to tease him about it.

He only jerked off to it once. Maybe twice. Not to like be gross or anything but… Max’s voice when he said his name was nice. And then he’d been around the real thing and Daniel found it hard to concentrate sometimes. Max was very good looking, and his voice saying Daniel’s name was even better when Daniel got to watch how his lips moved when he said it. Watched how his freckle stretched.

He’d been cold at first, but Daniel thought that things got better once… once they started getting off. It was so fucking good, he could cry sometimes. Max’s thighs were killer and the way bunched under his cock made Daniel ache for more.

Which was the problem. There wasn’t more.

Daniel liked Max. Really liked Max. And he thought Max liked him back, at least a little. But its been months of this. Of stolen moments in Max’s driver room or motorhome. Never his hotel room. Never off track. Daniel on his knees then Max got a hand on him.

Daniel tried to kiss him once and well… he won’t make that mistake again. If only because the mortification of Max turning his head away still burned in his chest.

They still had fun, marketing videos were fun. Where they went all over the place and did weird touristy things together. They'd spend all day together laughing and talking and eating. Like a date.

Daniel had asked him about the video once, he still had it on his phone. Made sure it made the data transfer when he’d gotten a new one. Now it sat safely in his cloud along with some of Daniel’s favorite of their marketing videos. Where they looked nice, together. Where Max looked at him like maybe Daniel made him happy. Because Daniel always looked at Max like he was happy.

Everything had been fine. And then he started talking to more guys on the grid. He felt like jumping over the awkwardness of the Max hurdle made it a little easier to make other friends on the grid.

Lewis and Fernando were some of his favourite people to hang out with. They bickered constantly and sometimes looked like they were going to just drop all pretenses and brawl it out. But then they’d chill out and everything was fine. It was weird but Daniel liked that, they were at least honest in every way. And that meant they’d be honest with him.

He’d had a few dishonest friends since his F1 career began, as short as it has been. He was happy for the change.

They asked him a lot of questions, wanting to get to know him. Asked him a lot about Max. Max and him. He’d eventually told them about their destressing routine, he felt he could trust them. And they’d been drinking in his hotel room after a particularly brutal double header.

“That's it?” Fernando had asked. Lewis had looked confused.

“He said he and Carlos used to– together.” Daniel had mumbled, a bright blush on his cheeks.

“Yeah, they used to fuck all the time. There were hickies and bruises. It was a whole thing.” Lewis had pointed out and well, that had sucked. Because Max barely wanted to touch Daniel as it was. So maybe he did hate him after all.

They’d seemed to realize they touched a nerve and the conversation moved to him, and if he’d wanted more and how much more. And Daniel had taken a shot before confessing his virginity. He couldn’t exactly figure out the looks on his friend’s faces, but he thought they kinda looked like those videos of lions stalking a meal in documentaries. But they were looking at him like that.

Hungry.

“Would you want to?” Lewis had asked softly, Fernando’s hand touched his shoulder.

“We would take care of you.” Fernando had finished his drink then.

Daniel’s mind was moving super fast and super slow at the same time. He– it was a lot to think about. They were his friends, fucking hot friends. But he liked Max and it felt kinda like cheating? But they weren’t together. And Max maybe hated him anyway, he had no problem using him. It shouldn’t matter if he used Lewis and Nando to get what he wanted, to get fucked and lose his virginity.

He knew they were a good time, he’s heard the stories and read that one article in Nando’s case. It wouldn’t be so bad.

“Both of you?” He’d asked hesitantly, because that hadn’t been something he considered. But… he had two holes so…

“We’ll make it good.” Nando’s hand was in his hair now and Daniel bit back his whine. Lewis’ hand was on his thigh, creeping higher.

“I– ok.” He’d whispered and then he was being kissed. He didn’t remember by who, because it didn’t matter. He hadn’t realized he’d been starving for it until he had it.

Things were a blur after that. A good blur. A great blur.

His alarm woke him up and he groaned because that tone was his ‘you’re gonna be late fucker’ alarm. So that meant he slept through his ‘wake up’ and 4 snoozes alarms. Fuck. He didn’t want to miss his ride.

Daniel stumbled into the bathroom and blinked owlishly at the marks on his neck and chest. He peaked back into the bedroom to see no one, Lewis and Nando had left at some point.

He felt sore, but a good one. And dehydrated as fuck. He hoped Max had electrolytes on the plane.

Daniel’s eyes widened. Fuck.

#answered #anonymous #reverse age gap au #maxiel #😈😈😈😈😈#dewis #danlonso #is that their ship name?#IS there a ship name for them/

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heavenlyraindrops · 7 months ago

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The Devil Made Me Do It | Arcane | Silco x Reader | Chapter Twenty One

available on AO3 and Quotev | visit the first tag for other chapters | warnings: profanity, blood and injury, injury detail, character death, guns, violence, fire, explosions, biting (in a non-freaky way), child death, stabbing, vomiting, references to past suicidal ideation

summary:

In the midst of an unfortunate run-in with the enforcers, you meet the young revolutionary Silco, and by extension, his friends Vander and Felicia. Growing close friends, you get through life in the undercity together, determined to make Zaun a better place. Until tragedy strikes, and betrayal and carelessness stabs hard enough to turn you bitter. Years later as time solidifies the scars, Silco proves to be a thorn in your side. You, in his. Hatred festers. And your world cracks further open.

Chapter Twenty One:

You woke in the middle of the to the sound of people screaming your name.

The minute Donna burst into the Haven through the black door, a group of bruised, soot-covered employees behind her, you knew something was wrong. You flitted your panicked, still half-asleep gaze over your people- black eyes, cuts, bruises. Their clothes were charred, and they were covered in black dust. You peered over Donna’s shoulder. Multiple people were being carried, their bodies practically grilled.

You almost vomited at the sight.

You grabbed Donna’s shoulders. She was shaking. “What the fuck happened?”

“I foun- I found them,” she gasped. A woman stepped forward, a burn on her shoulder. Her face was tearstained.

“They threw a bomb down there,” she panted. “They’re bombing the whole ground floor.”

You froze in shock. Donna let out a wail and pushed past you, the ragged group of people pouring into the Haven and pounding up the stairs, in search of backup and medics.

An uneasy feeling was gnawing at your gut. You charged back into your office and seized your jacket, shrugging it on as you went back to the back door. But then you froze, hand hovering over the doorknob.

Maybe it was a good idea to check on Allison before you left.

You lurched up the stairs, gripping the banister, and went to the black-haired girl’s room where Allison was initially supposed to bunk- where you’d sent her. You knocked on the door tentatively, heart in your mouth. No answer. You knocked again, harder this time, until you were banging on the door, the walls rattling. Kids and adults alike poked their heads out of their rooms to watch the spectacle.

A sickened-looking Donna stepped forward, handing you something. A key. “The master key,” she told you tiredly. You grappled with the lock, the door eventually swinging open. You burst inside the room.

It was empty.

You spun around, head reeling. No, no, no, no. Everything was going too fast. You’d woken up about ten minutes ago. It was too much. You clawed at your neck, fighting for breath. Donna grabbed you, and pointed at something.

“[name], look,” she gasped breathlessly. Your eyes followed her gaze.

The window.

Wide open.

You let out a piercing scream.

Donna winced, and you doubled over, clutching your head. Your lungs fought for oxygen as everything in your vision swam. You were about to be sick.

“Where is she?” You cried. A group of concerned people were standing in the doorway, exchanging concerned looks. You turned on them, sweat sticking your hair to your skin. “Where?”

A teenage girl stepped forward. Her mascara was smudged and her hair was mussed. “Before we went to sleep,” she began. “She kept talking about how she was gonna go visit the factory.”

Your body was trembling violently, uncontrollably. You stared at the ground. Donna stepped towards you, reaching for you gingerly, but you wrenched away from her. Your head snapped up, eyes blazing.

“Where’s Elliot?”

Within half an hour, your suspicions were confirmed. Neither Elliot nor Allison were to be seen anywhere in the Haven. You were at the front door, a dagger up your sleeve and a gun at your hip, and Donna was trying to desperately convince you to not leave.

“I’m going,” you said with finality, forcing the words past your throat. You felt so nauseous you couldn’t talk. Donna raised her bloodshot eyes to meet yours.

“Please, be sa-“

You were already out the door.

Charging down the street, you finally reached the usually quiet corner of the undercity, where the factory would sit in derelict solitude.

But now, everything was ablaze.

You whirled around. Tongues of flame surrounded you, leaping high into the night sky, smoke pouring from the front door of the factory which was wide open. You coughed into your fist, eyes watering.

And from inside, you heard a little girl’s screams.

“ALLISON!” You screamed. Another loud boom shook the giant building, more smoke and fire billowing around you. You looked to the sky and saw a man on the roof, looking down at you. Without a second thought you raised your gun.

The bang of the shot was as loud as the bombs. You watched as the silhouette of the man jerked, head knocking back, then toppled off the side of the roof to land in the dust of the factory yard, just in front of the metal mesh fence. Racing to the front gate of the factory, you ran inside. The smoke was thick, the acrid scent of burning flesh filling your nostrils. You mindlessly whirled around, and got sick all over the floor.

Your throat, nose and eyes burned. Your skin burned. You looked up, tears streaking your face. There was no way you would find Alice in here.

You heard shouting again.

“Madam! Help!”

Your heart lurched at Allison’s voice. It was coming from outside. You ran outside, skidding to a halt, before turning a corner to find yourself in the factory yard. “I’m coming!” You tried to yell, but it came out as a rasp. Coughing helplessly, you looked around the flaming, flat land. Your vision was swimming with tears. Smoke poured from the dry patches of dirt which had lit on fire, rising into the sky.

“Mom!”

You almost shut down.

Mom?

This was getting too familiar.

You spun around, barely seeing as you staggered a little. “Allison!” You called. “Allison, baby, I’m here. Where are you?”

“I’m here!”

You spun around to see a small figure lying in a heap on the ground, just in front of a heap of metal machinery. You charged through the smoke, until you skidded to a halt. The gun you were clutching so tightly dug into your palm.

There was a giant wall of fire blocking you from her. She was still a good bit away- you could just barely make out her face- or maybe you could’ve, if your eyes weren’t on fire and smoke wasn’t obscuring your vision until all you saw was black and grey.

“I can’t feel my legs!” Her small voice was raspy and raw, pathetic whimpers escaping her lips. You coughed even harder, hacking as ash settled in your throat. You doubled over and looked up. The heat of fire caressed your face.

Through the thick haze of smog, something flashed red, close to Allison’s little silhouette, her numb, limp legs. It beeped, speeding up.

Your eyes widened.

“ALLISON-“

The explosion was deafening.

You groaned, rolling over and opening your eyes. Everything was blurry. Your ears were ringing. You couldn’t hear a thing. You vaguely registered your gun lying a few feet on the ground away from you.

Sitting up, you raised your pounding head slowly. The fire had subsided, burning around you instead of in front, like it had been pushed away. Your shaking eyes landed on a limp, black figure, lying on the ground away from you.

Allison. You scrambled to your aching feet, bile rising in your throat. No.

Collapsing next to Allison, you turned her over. Her eyes were wide open, glazed over. Your stomach lurched. “No, no, no.”

Her hair was burnt to a crisp, flesh completely charred. Blood pooled from the back of her head, soaking into the dirt. Her skin was blackened with ash and soot.

Your face contorted with agony.

The scream that tore past your throat was cracked and broken. You slumped, pressing your forehead to hers, ignoring the blood. Her corpse was still feverishly hot, matching the tears streaming down your face and dripping down your chin. You couldn’t bear to look at her eyes. Her wide, cold, dead eyes.

“You can’t leave me,” you whimpered. “You can’t leave too.” You broke down again, smoothing your hand over her dry hair as loud sobs racked your shoulders.

A hand fell onto your shoulder. You gasped, jerking violently. You spun around, swinging wildly at whoever had touched you.

You didn't get far, falling back to your knees. You stared at the shoes that stepped in front of your hands, which were shaking, braced on the ground for support as you hunched over. You were about to be sick again.

You looked up through your hair, straight into a pair of mismatched eyes.

You lurched backwards. “Silco.” Your voice was trembling. He was panting, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. There were fresh burns on his arms, you noticed. A few strands of otherwise carefully slicked back hair had fallen in front of his forehead.

“You,” you whispered, eyes flicking wildly to Allison’s body. “You did this.”

“[name],” he started, but didn’t finish his sentence, instead staring at you and breathing hard. His silence was deafening.

“What. What are you doing here?” You licked your cracked lips. Your voice was broken and raw.

“I wasn’t informed of this…” he looked around coldly. “Massacre.” His eyes settled back onto you, volcanic embers burning a hole into your face.

“Are you sure about that?” You rasped huskily. Your heart was beating hard enough for you to feel it in your fingertips.

Silco raised an eyebrow, stepping back.

You lunged for the gun.

He kicked you aside, and it knocked the breath out of you and the gun out of your clutches. You rolled over, groaning. Your ribs throbbed. Without thinking, you kicked out wildly with your leg, adrenaline rushing through you. He collapsed and you drove your knee into his face. His head back snapped back, blood dripping from his nose. Shaking like a wild animal, you clawed your way back, towards the gun.

Blood was pounding in your eyes, vision tunneling. Fury coursed searing hot through your veins, hotter than the fire. Your hand reached for the gun handle.

Silco’s hand suddenly closed over your wrist, pinning it to the ground. You could feel his chest press against your back as he leaned down, hot breath hissing in your ear.

“I knew the lock was you.”

You bit his forearm.

He growled, yanking his arm back, bringing the gun along with it. He tossed it away, into the flames. Twisting around, your fist connected with his jaw. He lurched to the side, but not before he dug his hand into you, hauling himself over you again, his own punch knocking your head back into the ground. Blood dripped down your lips. He shoved his face into yours, eyes blazing with fury. You were breathing hard, tears still tracking down your face.

“You really do think you can just get away with anything, don’t you?” He snarled, slamming his palm down onto the ground next to your head. “Testing my patience? Toying with me?” You inhaled shakily, feeling for the dagger inside your sleeve. It slowly slid down past your cuff. You felt cool sharp metal against your palm. His nose grazed yours, breath hot on your lips.

“You killed her,” you rasped. He froze.

“What?”

“You see that body lying over there?” Your voice was cracked and barely audible. “My second daughter. Dead.”

Something twisted across his face as he raised his eyes to the limp form behind you both. Guilt? Disgust? Nausea? The only other indicator of his reaction was his chest heaving up and down faster, breathing picking up. The handle of your dagger slid into your hands.

Silco noticed, and snatched it from your hands. You let out a yell of protest as it clattered to the ground some feet away. You slammed your hands against his chest, pushing him away and winding him.

“She was just a child, Silco!” You were screaming. You didn’t know who you were talking about- whether it was Alice, or Allison, or both. Your voice was dripping with grief and venom. “My child. And now she’s gone because of this…” you trembled. “This war you’re so desperate to start.”

He was still staring at Allison’s charred corpse, breathing hard, an unreadable look on his face. His eyes were wide. He looked back at you, and his face hardened. “You think I wanted this?” He snarled. “You think I’d sacrifice innocent lives for no reason? I didn’t even know this was happening. Don't put this on me.”

You lunged at him, gripping his collar. You shoved your face right into his. “It’s already on you,” you hissed, tears streaming down your face. “Every death, every scream, every goddamn spark in this hellhole- it’s all on you. You made Shimmer, you terrorized the people, you lit the match.” Your breathing was hard and shaky as he slowly raised his hands to your wrists, prising your grip off of him. His face still hadn’t changed.

“You’re thinking just like him, aren’t you?” He muttered. You looked at him, eyes glassy and bloodshot.

“What?” You croaked.

“You sound just like Vander.” He practically spat his words, rising to his feet. You followed suit, subtly snatching up your discarded dagger and concealing it back within your sleeve.

“I lit the match because no one else would, [name],” he continued sharply. “You think peace comes with just sticking your head in the mud, sitting around, waiting for something to happen? You think that’s how we’ll win freedom?” He laughed, the noise harsh and dry. “You’re all delusional.”

What is he talking abou-

As if on autopilot, the words poured out of you. You jabbed a trembling finger at Allison’s corpse. “You think that little girl chose to be a part of your revolution?” You gasped. “You think she asked to die in your crusade?”

“And you think I chose to let Zaun rot?” He shot back, scowling, gritting his teeth and refusing to break eye contact. “To let Piltover crush us under their boot while people like you sit back and do nothing?”

You stepped back, voice bitter. “Don’t you dare,” you breathed. “Don’t you dare act like you care more than I do. You’re just better at justifying the cost.”

Silco straightened up, squaring his shoulders. He’d calmed down, voice quieter now, but still just as dangerous as before. The crackling flames illuminated his silhouette against the dark night sky.

“The cost is unbearable, I know that,” he said steadily. “But if we don’t fight, if we don’t do what’s necessary- all of their deaths will be for nothing.” His eyes met yours with the same conviction you’d seen in him many times before. “Do you want her to have died for nothing?”

“She died because you couldn’t see past your own damn pride,” you muttered, turning away. You stared at the ground, tears making your vision blur together. You couldn’t bear to see Allison’s corpse. “You’d burn all of Zaun down and call it liberation.”

His voice was as cold and hard as ever from behind you. Your eyes settled on Allison’s dead, glassy ones, and you twitched, wincing. “Sometimes, fire is the only way to cleanse what’s broken.” You couldn’t tear your eyes from the charred flesh.

Something inside you snapped. You whirled around, voice venomous as you spat your words,

“Then I’ll make damn sure you’re the first to burn.”

He barely had time to react before you lunged at him, driving the dagger deep into his side. You both collapsed on the ground, rolling across the rough dirt.

Regret immediately stabbed into your gut.

You gasped, drawing the knife out of his flesh, watching the blood seep through his clothes. The bloodied blade clattered to the ground as you pressed your hands to your mouth, eyes wide and shaking.

“No. No. No.” You chanted the words like a mantra, hands roaming over his injury, desperate to staunch the bleeding. Your vision shook, flashing. For a moment he was young again, an empty eye socket looking at you unseeingly. You jerked back, gripping your head. “Sil, I’m sorry.”

He coughed up blood, cursing under his breath. “You’re crazy,” he rasped, and you sobbed over his bleeding body.

“I shouldn’t have,” you choked. His face was rapidly growing pale. He weakly grabbed your wrist, pulling it down towards the ground so he could see your face. You were an absolute mess.

“The Last Drop,” he groaned, and you immediately hauled him up, balancing him on your shaking shoulders.

The limp to the Last Drop was a long, silent one, the silence broken every now and then with your guilty sobs and incessant, crazed rambling. Silco was too busy bleeding out all over you to speak, occasionally coughing up a bout of blood.

The windows of the Last Drop were dark. It was closed. You figured as much- it was about three in the morning. You slammed yourself against the door. It fell open and you stumbled.

By the time you’d dragged him to his office he’d lost a lot of blood. You yourself were soaked in it. Panic had seized you, making you jerk, twitch and tremble. Hot tears were still flowing down your face. You let Silco slump in his chair, your blood-soaked palms steadying his shoulders. He raised his half-lidded, dazed gaze to meet yours, head lolling to the side.

You slumped onto the floor beneath him, sniffling. “Fuck. I’m so fucked.”

He let out a small grunt of agreement. You began to shake.

“I should have kept my promise. I said if anything happened to you or Alice, I’d kill my self.” You gripped your head, fingers tangling in your ragged hair. “I shouldn’t be here right now. If I just kept my fucking promises, maybe you… maybe Allison…” your throat choked up and you couldn’t complete your sentence. Your face began to dry, no more tears left in you as you raised your head to him. He was watching you silently.

“When I first found out Alice was dead and you were missing,” you whispered, “I swear I almost held out on my promise.” You wiped your eyes, licking your cracked, dry lips.

“I was going to drown myself in the river,” you confessed, then looked up at him. He hummed, reaching out with a weak hand to put his hand on your head. Your face twisted with painful emotions as you leaned forward, putting your head on his lap. “Every day after that I’d go and try to work up the courage to do it.” Your voice cracked. “I’m sorry.”

He breathed something incoherent, and you looked up at him. You just barely heard him the second time.

“No. You should have lived.”

But the words barely registered in your mind as you collapsed onto the floor at the foot of his desk, exhausted.

The adrenaline had finally worn off, but you’d fallen asleep before the true reality of the night’s events had set in.

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kajthes · 2 months ago

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First Sentence Tag Game

Thank you to the lovely @darthdisco and @billy-royalton both of you for tagging me in this writing game ❤️❤️

Rules: Share the first lines of ten of your most recent fics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

(My fics are all Lawrusso with Johnny/Daniel)

Five Dollars of Destiny

Johnny Lawrence hated Christmas shopping.

Not the holiday itself—he liked the lights, the smell of pine, the excuse to drink whiskey in the middle of the day. But the shopping, that was a goddamn nightmare. Too many people bustling in his face, not enough parking and the screech of Mariah Carey’s hideous song playing on a loop.

Drunken Spank-Off

“It’s happenin’ LaRusso! Saddle up!”

SMACK!

What the actual fuck?!

Tell me again how good I am

Johnny never thought he'd get used to this. Training with Daniel and not wanting to punch his smug face in. It should feel wrong, but it didn’t. Somehow, it felt... good. Weird as hell, but good.

Ever since Daniel agreed to be his sensei, training had taken on a whole new meaning. There was a new fragrance around it. It wasn’t just about throwing fists or landing the hardest hits. There was also balance, precision and patience. All things that Johnny had spent most of his life ignoring. Resisting, at the very least… until recently.

The Price of Love

“You’re early this morning, Daniel,” Alice remarked, her voice soft and gentle as a harp’s melody.

Daniel stood at the edge of a stone pathway, dressed in a tailored navy frock coat and cravat. The leather of his polished boots glinted in the sunlight.

Hold on to me

The roar of the crowd feels distant compared to the deafening pounding of Johnny’s heart. His lungs burn. His legs are dead weight. His vision is blurred and his mouth tastes blood. He’s losing. Again.

Sleep with him!

Johnny stepped out of the hotel bathroom. The humid warmth of his shower clung to his skin as he tightened the sash of his bathrobe. His hair was still damp, beads of water clinging to the ends, and he ran a hand through it absentmindedly as he grabbed a towel to dry it.

Daniel was perched on the edge of the sofa with the phone in his hand. His face was illuminated by the screen. His light, soft voice filled the room. It didn’t take long for Johnny to piece together who he was talking to.

The Prince of Beauty

The day Johnny realized he was madly attracted to Daniel, he did something he hadn’t done since his twenties. Something he never thought he’d do ever again.

For God’s sake, he was in his fifties. A grown man with gray creeping into his stubble and aches in places that used to be bulletproof. But there he was in front of the mirror, surrounded by an arsenal of hair and skin products, a pair of scissors, pieces of fabric tossed everywhere and a damn curling iron he didn’t even know he still owned.

The Catalyst They Needed

“I can’t believe this! Because of some dumb doping scandal, Cobra Kai get to come back?!”

Miguel poked at his food with a fork, his appetite lost in the swirling frustration of the news. Across the cafeteria table, Robby leaned back in his chair.

“It’s bad enough that they’re back, but it’s probably worse because our senseis…”

Slick Deals 2

Daniel was in his fifties, but he had never in his life had that much sex in one single night. And who could blame him. The sex was mind blowing. Johnny was impossibly hot—so much it bordered on pain—and Daniel simply couldn’t get enough of him.

Midnight War

“That’s it! I’m gonna kill him!” Johnny hissed, yanking off his headphones and sitting up in his bed. “How does a human make that sound? It’s like his nose is trying to file a noise complaint against his lungs!”

Daniel sat up too, his blindfold perched on his forehead like a misplaced headband. “We’ve tried earplugs, white noise machines, even your playlist! Nothing works!”

“Hey, my playlist is way better than yours, LaRusso. I mean, freaking bougie whale sounds?”

Tagging (no pressure and sorry if double tags) @brimstone-cowboy @secondclassfangirl @wicked-jade @pinkgrapefloyd @blinkasaurus @kbaxxy and anyone else who would like to play this game!

#this was fun to do #fic writing #my fic #lawrusso

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chiefpapermuffinpasta · 3 months ago

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a deadly calm inside - 5

pairing: dean winchester x oc!witch!reader

chapter summary: After reluctantly seeking refuge at Cordelia’s, Sam and Dean begin to suspect there’s more to her past with Marjorie than she’s letting on. As Marjorie battles her own demons, both literal and personal, she sets a trap for the wraith that has been haunting her, forcing herself to face the pain it thrives on. But when Marjorie finally enacts the ritual, she is left with no choice but to destroy the wraith and walk away from the only mother figure she’s ever known. Now, wounded but resolute, she joins the Winchesters in hunting down Meg, setting the stage for a new, volatile alliance.

word count: 14.0k

marjorie outfit inspo 2 3

marjorie get behind me! i really loved writing this chapter and building marjorie's relationship with the winchesters. i know there still isn't any smooching, but it's a slow burn for a reason lol. also, i know this is a dean fic, but how would we feel about a sam fic? im actually a sam girl and i don’t think he gets enough love on tumblr, but u guys can let me know. enjoy!!!!!

*****

The scent of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon filled the air as Marjorie slid into the diner booth, stretching her legs across the seat. The place had a charming, old-school feel- faded red vinyl booths, a jukebox humming in the background, and the faint clatter of plates in the kitchen. It was the kind of place that felt untouched by time, a perfect slice of normalcy.

Dean grabbed the toe of her boots, shoving her legs to the floor, and dropping into the seat across from her. His eyes looked over the menu, scanning to see shock on her face. She couldn’t see the rest of his face, but she knew he was smiling. Sam slid next to him, giving him a pointed look.

Sam looked over at Dean’s menu. “You’re really gonna order that much grease this early?” Dean looked down at his watch- 8 am.

“It’s never too early for a bacon cheeseburger.”

A waitress walked over, her name tag showing ‘Becca.’

“What can I get started for you guys?” Her deep brown hair was tied loosely into a side braid and she had a pretty shade of red painted on her lips. Dean definitely noticed.

He flashed her a toothy grin, giving her his order.

Sam rolled his eyes, Marjorie mirroring the movement.

“I’ll just get some eggs and whole wheat toast, thanks.” Sam gave her a nod, handing his menu to the woman.

Marjorie followed, Becca not even making eye contact with her as she ordered a short stack of their chocolate chip pancakes. Becca gave her a small smile, though it didn’t really reach her eyes.

“Coming right up,” she said as she her teeth found her bottom lip and she gave Dean the same eyes the main character of a rom-com gives the love interest.

“That happen a lot?” Marjorie asked Sam, pointing to Dean.

“Why? You jealous, carrot top?”

Dean's smirk quickly turned to a grimace as one of Marjorie’s heels jammed into the top of his foot.

“You wish.” Marjorie huffed.

The three fell into a comfortable silence, and Marjorie leaned back in her seat , soaking in the moment- the warmth of the diner, the smell of sticky syrup, the rare, fleeting sense of ease. It felt normal.

Normal never lasted.

Sam cleared his throat, eyes flicking back and forth from Marjorie to the salt shaker in front of him. “Do you ever talk about it?”, he asked, his voice so soft she almost didn’t hear him.

Becca sauntered over to their table, carrying three plates gratefully.

Impressive, Marjorie thought.

The woman placed the three plates in front of the trio, the smell overwhelming Marjorie’s nostrils. She was hungry, genuinely hungry. She smiled at the feeling.

But then she remembered Sam’s question.

With fake confusion, she shoved a forkfull of pancake in her mouth. “Talk about what?”

Dean watched her cheeks double in size as she ate, a fluttering in his stomach appeared. Just hungry, he thought to himself.

Sam hesitated before clarifying. “The night you died.”

Marjorie froze mid chew. Her fingers tightened around her fork and knife, swallowing thickly. She glanced between them- Dean was quiet, watching her carefully, and Sam, ever the empathetic one, looked like he already regretted bringing it up.

She let out a dry laugh. “Really? We’re doing trauma talk over pancakes?”

Sam started to backpedal. “You don’t have to-”

“No, it’s fine,” Marjorie exhaled, pouring a mountain of syrup over her already soaked pancakes. “I mean… you guys already know the basics, right? Might as well go all in.”

Dean shifted. “You really don’t have to.”

She nodded to him as a thanks. She considered brushing it off but Cordelia was right- she need to talk about it. Exposure therapy or something. If this brought her closer to killing the wraith, then she was willing to do it.

“I remember it being cold. The kind of cold you feel in your bones, you know? Eleanor and I… we were inside by the fire. I was reading her a story.” Her voice wavered slightly.

“Then the door busted open.” She remembered the way to wood cracked and flew around them by the force.

“There were so many of them. Neighbors, people I’d helped, people I thought were my friends. They dragged me outside before I could register what was happening.” She let out a hollow laugh. “I was kicking. Screaming. Fighting. They used a witchcatcher.”

Dean raised a brow.

“It’s a collar used on witches. Once its on, we’re completely restrained. I had no control of my powers.”

His jaw tightened, his hands clenched under the table.

“None of them could look me in the eye. I was nothing to them anymore.”

Sam’s expression was unreadbale, but she could sense the pity.

“They called me unnatural,” she spat. “That I was cursed. That I was dangerous.” Her throat tightened and her eyes looked to the window next to the booth. “And then they took Eleanor.”

Silence. Sam stiffened and Dean let out a heavy exhale.

Marjorie continued, pushing through the lump in her throat, resting her head on her hand. “She was only six,” she whispered. “She didn’t understand what was happening. She just kept calling for me, kept crying-” she sucked in a breath. “I begged them to let her go. Swore I’d leave too, do whatever they wanted, but they didn’t listen.”

The room felt smaller. Heavier.

“They tied us up,” she said. “Strapped us to the stake.”

Sam’s lips parted, but no words came out.

Marjorie’s gaze was far away now, lost in memories she couldn’t escape. “I told her to close her eyes,” she murmered. “Told her that everything was going to be okay.” A bitter smile twisted on her face. “I lied to her.”

Deans voice, when it came, was hoarse. “Jesus, Marjorie.”

She blinked rapidly, willing herself not to cry. “She was so scared,” her lip trembled. “And I couldn’t do a damn thing.”

Silence again.

Marjorie took a deep breath, then another. “The flames caught so fast,” she continued, voice steadier now, colder. “I remember the pain- you don’t forget something like that. How it felt like my skin was peeling away, like my insides were boiling.” Her fingers twitched as if she could still feel it. “But I didn’t scream. Not at first.”

Dean’s head dropped slightly, like he physically couldn’t take it. Sam didn’t take his eyes off her.

“Her screams were terrible. Such a small thing, subjected to so much pain. And then she stopped- there was nothing.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

“That’s when I cried. I tried so hard to soothe her, but it did nothing. How could it, you know? And then, she died.”

For a moment, no one spoke.

The Marjorie let out a shaky laugh, bitter and humorless. “And then I woke up. The air wasn’t cold anymore. I had been gone a while. ”

Dean muttered, “You said you killed them. The ones who did that to you.”

Marjorie snorted, though there was no real amusement in it. “I did. I hunted them for months- I wanted them to know I was coming. I wanted them to be scared.”

Dean met her gaze, and something shifted.

Not fear. Not wariness.

Understanding.

He might not have known what is was like to be burnt alive, to lose a child, but her understood vengeance. Understood the kind of pain that carved out a piece of you and left something rotten in its place.

Sam exhaled slowly. “Marjorie, I’m so sor-”

“Dont,” she cut in. “No ‘I’m sorrys.’ That’s not why I told you.”

Sam nodded, understanding her boundary.

Marjorie forced a smirk, trying to lighten the mood. “So. That’s my super fun backstory. Now you know why I’m such a delight to be around.”

Dean shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “You were definitely a pain in the ass way before that.”

A genuine laugh bubbled in her throat, surprising even her. Sam rolled his eyes, but the heaviness in his expression had eased, just a little.

“What was she like?” Dean asked, shoveling a fry into his mouth.

Marjorie stuffed a pancake into her own as her eyes lit up.

“Eleanor?”

Dean nodded in confirmation.

Marjorie stared at him. No one had really bothered to ask her that before. The people who knew about Eleanor didn’t care much to know about the girl. Just that she was Marjorie’s daughter, and that she was dead.

For a second, she didn’t know what to say.

“She was…” a small, distant smile ghosted her lips. “She was sunshine.”

Sam and Dean both listened, the weight of her words settling over the table.

Becca had made her way back to the table, starting ask them, Dean mostly, if they needed anything else at the moment.

“We’re fine,” he told her, his eyes not leaving Marjorie.

Marjorie’s fingers traced the rim of her coffee cup absentmindenly. “She had the biggest laugh. You know the kind- too big for her tiny little body. It would just burst out of her, completely uncontained.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “She used to laugh so hard she’d get hiccups.”

Dean’s lips twitched upward. “She sounds like a handful.”

“Oh, she was,” Marjorie said, her smiling growing. “I was sixteen when I had her, so we were basically just two kids trying to figure everything out together.”

It was Sam’s turn to raise and eyebrow.

“It was the 1800s Sam, not a nunnery. Though my father wasn’t very happy about it.” Sam laughed at this.

Marjorie continued, leaning back again, placing her palm against her chest. “She was stubborn as hell. Always asking questions, always pushing limits. If she wanted something, she wasn’t gonna stop until she got it.”

“She sounds like you,” Sam told her.

Marjorie huffed. “She was better than me.”

Something flickered in her expression then- grief, love, something deeper than either of them could name.

“She used to bring home stray animals,” Marjorie laughed. “Birds wth broken wings, half-drowned kittens, even a damn fox once. She’d look at me with these big, wide, brown eyes and say ‘Mama, we gotta help them.’” She huffed a breath through her nose. “I could never say no.”

Dean swallowed hard, breaking his gaze from Marjorie to look down at his hands.

Marjorie didn’t notice. “She loved flowers,” she added. “Would spend hours in the yard, picking them just to give them away. She’d shove them into people’s hands, tell them they needed to smile more. Hers was my favorite. Her front teeth were bigger than the rest so they poke out everytime she smiled. She was a beautiful little girl- she had this long brown hair and when she was in the sun for too long, she’d get a couple freckles that scattered across her cheeks. I don’t know where she got that beauty from.” Marjorie brought a hand up to her own face.

A confused look spread across Dean’s face, but he shook it away quickly. His voice was low. “She sounds like a good kid.”

Marjorie nodded. “She was the best.”

The weight in the room was different now. Not just grief, but warmth. Love. A memory that wasn’t just pain, but something worth holding on to.

Marjorie stretched her arms over her head. “Anyway,” she said, forcing herself back to the present. “That’s enough tragedy for one morning. “Who’s paying for my breakfast?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m too young to be a sugar daddy, sweetheart.”

Marjorie smirked. “Scared of a little philantropy?”

Sam sighed, already reaching for his wallet.

Marjorie and Dean met eachother eyes again. They could feel the shift.

Niether of them minded.

It was nice to be understood.

*****

The Impala rumbled to a stop in front of Cordelia’s house, the engine ticking as Dean threw it into park. Marjorie sighed, already reaching for the door handle.

“Well,” she said, forcing a lightness into her voice, “it’s been fun. Thanks for the food, the riveting conversation, and the ride home.” She popped the door open and slid out, turning back with a half-smile. “Drive safe.”

She expected them to nod, maybe toss out a keep in touch before peeling off into the horizon.

Instead, both brothers got out of the car.

Marjorie’s stomach dropped. “What are you doing?” she asked, brows knitting together.

Dean shut his door with an easy shrug. “Walking you to the door.”

Sam shut his a second later. “And letting you know we’re staying.”

Marjorie blinked. “Come again?”

Dean stretched, like the answer was the most natural thing in the world. “Look, you told us everything you know about Meg, which means we’re dealing with her. But first, we’re handling this wraith situation. Might even get us closer to her.”

“What about your dad?” she challenged.

“He’ll be fine. Right now, we’d just be in his way,” Sam said simply.

Marjorie stared. “You—what—no, that’s not—” She exhaled sharply, raking a hand through her hair. “That’s not how this works.”

Dean tilted his head. “Says who?”

“Says me!” She threw up her hands. “I told you what I know, so you can go do your whole heroic martyr routine and deal with Meg. I’ll take care of the wraith.”

Sam arched a brow. “And if you die?”

Marjorie faltered.

Dean sighed, planting his hands on his hips. “Look, sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but we’re in this now. I know you don’t need help, but it wouldn’t hurt.”

Before she could fire back, the front door swung open.

“And where exactly do you two plan on staying?”

Dean grinned up at Cordelia, still standing in the doorway. “We were just getting to that part.”

Cordelia snorted. “Let me guess. You two decided to be knights in shining Carhartt and refuse to leave until Marjorie stops being self-destructive.”

Dean’s grin widened. “See? You get us.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes, but Marjorie caught the flicker of relief beneath her usual dry amusement.

Cordelia pinched the bridge of her nose. “Come inside.”

Dean clapped his hands together. “Not you.”

Dean blinked. “Uh—”

“I was talking to Marjorie.”

Cordelia leaned against the doorframe, extending an arm in invitation. Marjorie didn’t hesitate, bounding up the steps, a quiet sense of security settling over her the moment she reached Cordelia’s side. She didn’t leave the house much these days. Standing out here, on the open lawn, she felt exposed—like a raw nerve waiting to be struck. The wraith could be watching. Could be waiting.

Instinct told her to go where she felt safest.

Sam cleared his throat. “Look, we’re not trying to overstep. But we’ve got strength in numbers. If we handle the wraith first, we don’t have to worry about it getting in the way when we go after Meg.”

Marjorie hesitated. Damn it. He had a point.

She turned to Cordelia, their eyes meeting in a silent conversation.

Cordelia, for all her posturing, sighed like she was already regretting this decision. “Fine. But don’t touch my stuff.”

Dean let out a triumphant laugh. “Define stuff.”

She pointed a warning finger at him. “If anything in this house explodes, goes missing, or turns up broken, I’m blaming you.”

“Fair,” Dean said, strolling past her. “So, you got a guest room?”

Cordelia shut the door behind them with a long-suffering sigh. “You’re staying wherever you annoy me the least.”

Dean beamed. “Your couch is pretty comfy.”

Cordelia muttered something under her breath, but Marjorie caught the ghost of a smile before she turned away.

Maybe—just maybe—this wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

*****

A week passed. Somehow—against all odds—they hadn’t killed each other yet.

If anything, it was almost… nice.

Mornings settled into a rhythm. Cordelia staked her claim over the kitchen like a queen defending her throne, muttering hexes under her breath if anyone so much as glanced at her coffee before she’d taken her first sip. Marjorie quickly took over cooking after the first morning when Dean’s attempt at making bacon nearly set the entire house on fire. (No one knew how it happened. The bacon was fine one second, then whoosh.)

Sam, unsurprisingly, was the easiest housemate. Up at the crack of dawn, he spent his mornings buried in whatever lore books he could scrounge up, helping Cordelia research while sipping black coffee like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the mortal plane.

Dean, on the other hand, had a talent for making himself very present.

And Cordelia?

Cordelia had made it her personal mission to make Dean Winchester’s life as inconvenient as humanly (or magically) possible.

It started small.

Dean would reach for his coffee, only for the mug to slide an inch out of reach at the last second.

Then his knife and fork would flip out of his hands every time he picked them up.

At first, he thought he was losing his mind—until he caught Cordelia smirking over the rim of her cup.

“Oh, you think you’re funny,” he muttered.

“Kid, I know I’m funny,” she shot back.

The next day, his beer mysteriously turned into chamomile tea the second he took a sip.

The day after that, every time he put on his boots, something inside them squished unpleasantly—like Jell-O had been melted into them overnight.

“You’re a menace,” Dean grumbled after discovering his leather jacket had inexplicably shrunk two sizes.

Cordelia patted his cheek with faux sympathy. “Don’t test me, hunter.”

Meanwhile, Sam was treated like a prince.

“Oh, Sam,” Cordelia cooed one morning. “I made you some tea for your headache.”

Dean, mid-bite of toast, nearly choked. “Wait, what?”

Sam, amused but wary, accepted the cup. “Uh… thanks?”

“Oh, and I found an old book in my collection.” Cordelia placed a massive, ancient tome in front of him, dust curling up from its worn leather cover. “It has some theories on dream-walking that might help with your research.”

Dean stared at the scene in utter betrayal. “Where’s my book?”

Cordelia didn’t even look up. “I gave you a book.”

“No, you gave me The Beginner’s Guide to Knitting and You.”

Cordelia sipped her coffee with a slow, smug smile. “Exactly.”

Dean groaned, shoving the book away like it personally offended him. “Unbelievable.”

Marjorie snorted into her tea, and Sam barely hid a smirk.

*****

Marjorie wasn’t sure why she was awake.

It wasn’t a nightmare, for once. It wasn’t some lingering shadow of her past creeping in. She just…wasn’t tired.

So, she wandered to the living room, where the fire had burned down to embers and the whole house was quiet. She expected to be alone.

The brothers had been sleeping in a room off the back porch on a small, cramped pull out couch. Dean had offered he and Marjorie share a bed as he was too big to share with his brother, but Marjorie, obviously, turned him down.

She wasn’t alone.

Dean was sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over his chest, the other loosely gripping a bottle of whiskey. His eyes flicked up to her when she entered, and instead of the usual smirk or snarky remark, he just tilted the bottle slightly.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Marjorie shook her head, sitting on the armrest of the couch. “You neither?”

Dean shrugged. “Whiskey helps.” He took another sip then glanced at her. “You want some?”

Marjorie considered it for a moment. She could’ve made a joke about how carrying around a bottle of whiskey is usually a tell-tale sign you should go to AA, but she didn’t. She just nodded. Dean leaned forward, offering the bottle, and she took a long sip before handing it back.

For a few minutes, they just sat there, passing the bottle back and forth in comfortable silence.

Then, Dean glanced up at her, something amused in his expression. “So, be honest with me- how much of Cordelia’s magic is just to mess with me specifically?”

Marjorie laughed. “Oh, at least seventy percent. The other thirty is just Delia’s sass.”

Dean groaned. “I knew it. She turned my beer into tea.”

“That one was actually my idea,” Marjorie admitted, smirking.

Dean turned to stare at her. “You’re evil.”

She grinned, stretching her legs out to sit atop the coffe table in front of them.

Dean noticed her socks had tiny witch hats and brooms on them. Cute, he thought.

“Not evil, just…magically gifted in the art of pettiness.”

Dean shook his head, but he was laughing. “Alright, I’ll admit, it’s kinda cool. You’re magic, I mean. I’ve never really spent this much time around a witch.”

Marjorie raised a brow. “You, really?”

“Whatever.” Dean lifted the bottle to his lips again.

Marjorie bit the skin on her lower lip shyly. “You wanna see something cool?”

Dean sat up a little. “Hell yeah, I do.”

Marjorie help up a hand, finger curling slightly. The air in the room shifted, warm and electric. Then, suddenly, tiny glowing embers- like fireflies made of pure blue light- flickered into existence between her fingertips, dancing through the air like they had a mind of their own.

Dean’s eyes widened slightly. “Damn.”

Marjorie flicked her wrist slightly, and the embers swirled upward, shifting into different shapes- first a bird, then a flute, then a car that looked suspicously like the Impala.

Dean let out a low whistle. “Awesome.”

Marjorie smirked. “I know, right?”

Dean reached out, as if trying to touch one. Embers curled around his fingers gracefully, then flickered away softly. “So, what else can you do?”

Marjorie thought for a second. The, grinning, she lifted her other hand and snapped her fingers. The fireplace roared back to life in an instant, sending warm golden light soaring around the room.

Dean raised an impressed brow. “That’s useful.”

“Sure is,” Marjorie said. “Especially in winter. Or when I want a dramatic exit.”

Dean snorted. “I knew you were the type to make your own dramatic lighting.”

Marjorie rolled her eyes, but didn’t deny it.

The pair sat there, the fire crackling , the half-empty whiskey bottle between them.

Dean watched the tiny glowing shapes fade into the air. “You know…you’re alright Marjorie.”

She glanced at him, rasing an eyebrow. “Was I not alright before?”

“Jury was still out.”

“Well, thanks, I guess.”

Dean tipped the bottle toward her. “To magic, whiskey, and not murdering each other in our sleep.”

Marjorie tinked a knuckle against the bottle. “Cheers to that.”

The air around them continued to warm. Marjorie smiled to herself.

She liked Dean Winchester.

*****

Dean was two bites into his sandwich when his phone buzzed against the worn wooden table, rattling slightly.

Marjorie leaned beside him against the counter, idly flipping through one of Cordelia’s old spellbooks, though Dean doubted she was actually reading it. Sam stood at the sink, rinsing out his coffee mug with the methodical precision of someone pretending not to eavesdrop.

Across the room, Cordelia sat cross-legged on the couch, lazily flipping through TV channels. To the untrained eye, she looked disinterested. But Dean knew better. She was watching. Analyzing. Measuring the space—no, the tension—between him and Marjorie. And maybe, just maybe, pretending she couldn’t smell the desperation coming off both of them. Clueless.

The phone buzzed again.

Dean ignored it.

It stopped.

Then immediately started ringing again.

“Just answer it,” Sam sighed, shaking water from his hands as he reached for a dish towel.

Dean scowled and snatched the phone up, barely glancing at the caller ID. “Yeah?”

The voice on the other end was unmistakable.

“Where are you?” John Winchester’s tone had a way of filling a room, even over the phone.

Dean’s jaw tightened. His grip on the sandwich went slack. “Still working that case.”

“The case should be closed by now,” John snapped, his irritation cutting through the static. “I told you boys to track Meg, not play house with some—”

Dean shoved back from the table so abruptly that his chair scraped against the floor with a sharp screech. Marjorie’s fingers stilled against the pages of her book.

“We got a situation, alright? We’re handling it.”

Silence. Heavy. Tense.

On the couch, Cordelia finally stopped flipping channels. Even Sam, who had been making a valiant effort to appear disinterested, turned slightly, his back going rigid.

John exhaled, the sound crackling over the line. “What kind of situation?”

Dean hesitated. His eyes flicked to Marjorie, who kept her gaze stubbornly fixed on the book in her hands, though he knew damn well she was listening.

He wasn’t going to rat her out. The wraith was her fight.

“Just some complications,” he said finally, choosing his words carefully. “It’s nothing we can’t handle.”

John’s sigh was sharp and unimpressed. “We don’t have time for complications, Dean. We’ve got a demon on the loose, and she’s dangerous. I need you two back on the road.”

Dean clenched his jaw. “Dad, we’ve got something dangerous here too. Once we finish this, we’re back on Meg. I promise.”

Another pause. Longer this time.

Then John spoke again, his voice lower, laced with something heavier than before.

“You’re getting attached.”

The words landed like a blow to the ribs.

Dean stilled.

Cordelia finally looked up from the TV. Sam abandoned the pretense of not listening, his fingers curling into the dish towel.

Dean forced a hollow chuckle. “What?”

“You know what,” John said, voice cold and clipped. “I warned you about her, boy, and now look at you. You think I don’t know what you’ve been up to? When did some crush become more important than your mother?”

Dean’s fingers tightened around the phone, his knuckles turning white.

John sighed, a sound weighted with finality. “Do what you want. But don’t forget why you’re out there.”

Then the line went dead.

Dean exhaled sharply and set his phone down—harder than necessary.

Cordelia, ever unfazed, flipped another channel. “Well,” she drawled, stretching her legs out on the couch, “that was tense.”

Marjorie moved toward Dean, reaching for his arm in a small, hesitant attempt at comfort.

“You alri—”

Dean jerked away, shrugging her off with a roughness that wasn’t entirely intentional. “I’m fine.” His voice was sharp. Clipped. He turned on his heel. “I gotta go get some stuff. Be back in twenty.”

He grabbed his jacket off the couch in one fluid motion and stomped toward the door, slamming it behind him with enough force to make the walls rattle.

Marjorie scowled, throwing her hands up in exasperation before flopping onto the couch beside Cordelia.

“Men.”

They said it in unison.

From the sink, Sam let out a barely contained snicker.

*****

The air outside was thick with the scent of pine and earth, the evening still humming with the remnants of the summer heat. The back porch creaked under Marjorie’s weight as she stepped outside, a glass of wine perched inbetween her fingertips. Dean was already there, lounging on the old wooden swing, one foot braced against the railing to make it sway in a steady rhythm. He was still in the same clothes as earlier; hadn’t even taken off his boots when he got back to Cordelia’s. He didn’t look up when she approached, but there was a tension set in his shoulders that told her she knew she was there.

Sam was perched on the porch railing, leaning back with his arms crossed against his chest, his face lit only by the soft glow of the setting sun and the illuminating porch light. He hadn’t said much since Dean got back, but his posture was relaxed, which for Sam, was probably the closest he got to being at ease.

Marjorie hesitated for a moment, looking between the two men. The weight of John’s call earlier, hell the few weeks, was pressing on her chest, and she could feel exhaustion in every muscle. But there was something about the quiet of the night, the low chirping of cicadas, being here with them, that made it a bit easier to breathe.

Dean shifted slightly on the swing, and the motion pulled her out of the spot. He patted the spot beside him without saying a word.

It wasn’t much, but it was an invitation.

She sat down in the free space next to him, her eyes darting over to Sam briefly. Her gave her a small, almost knowing smile before leaning back against the railing again, staring out at the backyard.

Marjorie could feel Dean’s presence next to her, and for a moment, she let herself enjoy the silence, the only sounds being the creaking of the swing and the distant rustle of leaves.

The arm Dean had hanging over the back of the swing knocked against her shoulder with every sway of the seat. The warmth she felt was definitely just the wine. His fingers twitched a couple times, brushing against her skin lightly, almost featherlike. Neither of them did anything about it.

It was a peaceful kind of tension. She didn’t know how long it would last, but she knew she didn’t want to be the one to break it.

After a long moment, Sam broke the silence. “So, about Cordelia…” His voice was casual, but there was something about the way he phrased it that made it clear he had questions.

Marjorie’s lips curved into a faint smirk. She leaned a bit more into Dean, the small swing not giving them much room for personal space. “What about her?”

Dean snorted, reaching for the beer bottle resting beside him on the swing’s armrest. “You mean, why does she hate me?”

Sam tilted his head, his eyes narrowing in amusement. “I wasn’t gonna put it like that but, sure. Seems like you two have a special connection.”

Dean groaned, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hand. “I don’t get her. She’s got that vibe like she’s too cool for school. Hell, she thinks I’m the enemy.” His voice softened slightly, and Marjorie caught the hint of frustration in it. “I don’t know. Can’t seem to break that woman’s guard.”

Marjorie tilted her head, studying Deans profile for a moment. “She’s been through a lot,” she said quietly, her voice softer than intended. “Trust isn’t something that she just hands out.” Her fingers traced the rim of her cup, eyes unfocused as she thought about Cordelia’s hard exterior.

“She loves Sam,” Dean complained, his fingers now grazing against the red strands of hair sitting next to him.

“Sam’s…nice,” Marjorie saw the way Dean’s face contorted as if he couldn’t believe she didn’t think he was sunshine and rainbows. “He’s not as rugged as you- he didn’t come barging in here like he owned the place. Plus, she has a thing for pretty brown hair.” She winked at Sam.

“Gross, Marj. She’s old enough to be our mom.”

Marjorie shrugged. She’d seen stranger things.

Sam’s gaze studied Marjorie’s relaxed attitude. The scene in front him him looking almost domestic.

“Maybe that’s why you two get along so well.” The words hung in the air, and Marjorie blinked, unsure of what Sam was getting at.

Before she could ask, Dean shifted beside her, the action causing her to sink deeper into his side.

“Don’t you start,” Dean muttered.

Sam threw his head back, looking up at the sky, his voice taking on a teasing tone. “What? I’m just saying. You two have a thing for doing things the hard way.”

Dean’s lips twitched, but he didn’t laugh. “I don’t have thing, Sammy.”

Marjorie glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, catching the way his lips turned into a tight, almost pained smile.

Something about it made her want to reach out, even if she didn’t know how.

And then the moment passed, just as quickly as it had come.

“You definitely have a thing.” Marjorie tilted her glass toward Dean.

Sam rolled his eyes with a dramatic sigh, but it was obvious he wasn’t mad. He was the little brother, the one who always played the peacekeeper, and tonight, it felt like that role was written into the lines of his face. “I think we’ve both figured that out by now,” Sam said, then added with a grin.

Dean scowled at Sam but didn’t argue.

The evening stretched on, and for once, Marjorie didn’t feel like she was standing on the edge of something dark. She didn’t feel the weight of the past or the unrelenting pull of the wraith chasing her. Instead, she felt normal- like the kind of person who could laugh and joke with two brothers who had somehow become her allies in a world of chaos.

Dean shifted again, his thigh brushing against hers. They sat there, side by side, the easy warmth of the night wrapping around them like a blanket.

They existed in the same space, content to share the silence and the quiet rhythm of the swing creaking beneath them.

At some point, Dean nudged her with his shoulder, the playful grin creeping back into his voice. “So, you think Cordelia has a friend for me? S’ not fair that Sam gets all the fun.”

She arched an eyebrow, leaning just a little closer. “You’re a dog.”

He chuckled softly, the sound more real than it had been all day. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Her lips parted with a small, teasing smile. “It wasn’t meant as one.”

The evening stretched on, and the trio continued their stay on the porch, their voices mingling with quiet sounds of the night.

Dean was mid-sentence, telling some old hunting story when Marjorie’s words cut through the comfortable banter with a sharp edge.

“You guys can leave if you want.”

Sam snapped his head over to her. He glanced at Dean, who was suddenly still beside her, a slight tension creeping into his posture.

Dean, who’d been so lost in the conversation just moments before, now gave her his full attention, his brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?” His voice was low, the playful tone from earlier gone.

Marjorie shifted slightly on the swing, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She finally met Dean’s eyes, and there was a vulnerability there that she didn’t usually show. "You’re not really stuck here with me. This is your job- hunting down Meg. I know you’ve got bigger things to do. I wouldn’t blame you for leaving. You’ve got a lot on your plate, and I'm not some…side quest."

Sam’s gaze softened as he jumped down from the railing, his large frame blocking her view of the night sky. “Marjorie, no,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. He crossed the space between them and stopped a few feet away, as if he wasn’t sure how to approach her. “You’re not just some side quest.” He shot a glance at Dean before focusing on her again, his words sincere. “We don’t just leave people behind. That’s not how this works.”

Dean’s jaw tightened at Sam’s words, and for a moment, there was an awkward silence. Marjorie could see the flash of frustration in Dean’s eyes- he was tired, she knew that. But there was something more there, something that wasn’t just about their situation.

After a long pause, Dean finally spoke, his voice gruff. “You think we’d just walk away now? We’re a part of this, Marjorie.” He gave a short, dry laugh, as if he didn’t even believe what he was saying, but there was no denying the sincerity behind it. He ran a hand over his face, rubbing his tired eyes before turning to face her fully. “This thing with the wraith…it’s your fight, yeah, but that doesn’t mean we’re just gonna pack up and leave. We’re here. We finish it.”

Marjorie felt a strange weight lift from her chest, but there was still an ache there, a tightness she hadn’t realized was lingering.

Sam gave her a small, reassuring smile. “It’s not about the wraith. It’s about you. We’re not going anywhere until you’re safe. That’s the deal.” His voice was calm, a little like the brother Marjorie never asked for.

Her eyes softened at Sam’s words, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She swallowed hard and leaned back against the swing’s edge, letting out a quiet sigh.

Dean watched her carefully, his gaze more intense than usual, the weight of everything that had happened hanging between them. Finally, he spoke again, quieter this time. “Look, Marjorie… You think we don’t want to be here? You think this is some kind of burden? Nah, it’s not. We’re doing this because we want to. Yeah sure, at first we thought you and Meg were in kahoots, and honestly I was coming here to kill you,” He took a deep breath, his voice rough. “But obviously, I was wrong. We’re gonna help you.”

Marjorie looked away for a moment, her chest tight with something she couldn’t quite name. She felt a strange mix of gratitude and guilt- a nagging feeling that she shouldn’t be relying so much on them. But the warmth of their words, their concern, melted some of that doubt. She could feel the sincerity in every glance, every word.

"I’m just saying," she said, her voice quieter now. "You’ve been here for over a week and we’re only a bit closer to being able to kill this thing. You guys have to go save the world or something."

Dean cut her off with a shake of his head, the stubbornness in his voice as unmistakable as the set of his jaw. "We’re not going anywhere."

Sam nodded firmly, his smile softening as he glanced between them. "We’re gonna take care of it. After that, we’ll go find Meg."

Marjorie swallowed her words, a lump forming in her throat. She didn’t expect this level of care- not from them, not from anyone but Delia anymore. Just months ago Dean couldn’t be in the same room as her. It was overwhelming, in a way that made her feel like she might break, or maybe- just maybe- she might let herself believe in the possibility of something more.

She turned to Dean, her gaze softening, and allowed herself to breathe a little easier. “Thanks,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “I-I wasn’t sure where I stood with you two. We don’t have the greatest history.”

Dean leaned back against the swing, the motion easy, casual, but his eyes never left hers. “That’s old news. Don’t sweat it.” he said simply, his voice quiet but certain.

The words hung in the air for a long beat before Sam cleared his throat. “Well, if you two are done being all sentimental, I’m pretty sure there’s a stash of candy bars in the kitchen, and Cordelia isn’t awake to tell me they’re gonna rot my teeth.”

Dean snorted, breaking the tension with a laugh. “Sam’s right. We don’t want to exhaust ourselves on all this emotional crap.” He nudged Marjorie with his elbow. “Besides, there’s no way I’m letting you sit there and feel sorry for yourself.”

Marjorie chuckled softly,“Who says I’m feeling sorry for myself?” She raised an eyebrow teasingly at Dean.

Sam smiled, stepping back toward the door. “Oh, you’re definitely feeling something.”

Dean stood up, offering her a hand as he did. “You coming? I’m not letting Sam eat all of them. I need my chocolate too.”

Marjorie hesitated for a moment, looking up at him with a faint, teasing smile. “Are you sure you want to share with me?”

Dean’s lips twitched. “I’m a generous guy.”

“Generous? I’ve never seen you share anything willingly,” Sam chimed in from the doorway, shaking his head with a knowing grin.

The three of them shared a quiet laugh before heading inside. For now, Marjorie knew she didn’t have to do this alone.

*****

It had been days since the phone call with John, and Marjorie hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was wrong. The wraith’s presence was like a shadow, always lurking just beyond the edge of her perception. At first, it had been whispers- a faint voice barely audible, like a soft breeze brushing against her ear. But now, it was louder, clearer, and it seemed to be coming from everywhere.

She sat alone in the kitchen, the flickering light above her casting odd shadows on the walls. Sam and Dean were in the next room, likely discussing their next move, but Marjorie couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything. The wraith’s voice was too loud. It had been for the past few days.

“You’re weak,” the voice crooned from the corners of her mind, the words curling like smoke around her thoughts. “You think they’ll save you? They won’t. You’re just a liability.”

Her hands shook as she set the coffee mug down on the counter, the sound of it clinking sharply in the quiet room. Her gaze flitted to the doorway, where Dean had been standing earlier, and for a moment, she saw him again- only it wasn’t Dean. The figure that filled the frame of the door had hollow eyes, a twisted grin, and an unmistakable air of malevolence.

“They’re just waiting for you to break,” the wraith whispered, its voice wrapping around her like chains. “You’re nothing but a ticking time bomb. They’ll leave you. They’ll all leave you in the end.”

Marjorie blinked rapidly, pushing the image away. Her pulse hammered in her ears, and she had to remind herself that it was just the wraith. It was not real.

She stood quickly, wiping her face as if to rid herself of the unwanted visions. The last few days had been a blur of hallucinations and taunts, each worse than the last. At times, she felt like she wasn’t even in control of her own body. The wraith had gotten inside her head, and it was starting to feel like the walls were closing in on her.

Dean moved to where she sat in the kitchen, his expression unreadable, but there was concern in his eyes. “You good?” His voice was steady, but there was a slight tightness to it, as if he could feel the shift in the air.

Marjorie didn’t trust her own voice. She nodded curtly, unable to shake the feeling that the wraith’s whispers were still echoing in her mind.

Dean’s gaze softened, and for a moment, she saw something flicker there- something more than just concern. “Don’t let it get to you.”

But Marjorie didn’t hear him. The wraith’s mocking voice came back, louder this time.

“They’re just lying to you. They don’t care. You’re nothing but a tool to them.”

Her chest tightened, and for a moment, she thought she might crumble. But she didn’t. Not yet.

“I need some air,” she muttered, forcing herself past Dean and out the door before he could stop her.

Dean’s voice trailed after her, low and urgent. “Marjorie-”

But she was already outside, pacing on the porch, trying to drown out the wraith’s voice with the cool night air.

Behind her, Cordelia stood by the door, watching with a careful, measured gaze. She’d seen it all- the way Marjorie began to flinch and cower, the way the wraith’s taunts had started to chip away at her. Cordelia watched the slow descent, seemingly out of nowhere, knowing exactly what it was like to feel the weight of something haunting you, pushing you to the edge. But she couldn’t let Marjorie see her own fears. Not now. Not when the girl needed her.

Her chest tightened, but she shoved the feelings down, forcing a calm exterior. She should have known this would happen. The wraith was a curse, not just a creature. It would latch on, find a weakness, and exploit it- exactly what it had done to Marjorie. Her own secret crawled up her spine like a cockroach, suffocating her. Meg was back and she led the Winchester’s here. She had taunted Cordelia the same way the wraith was taunting Marjorie. If Marjorie found out- Cordelia didn’t believe the girl of cold murder, but she didn’t do well with betrayal.

But still, watching Marjorie like this, it felt wrong. Cordelia wasn’t someone to wear her emotions on her sleeve, even with Marjorie, but now as she saw the toll that the wraith was taking on the younger girl, she couldn’t help the bile that rumbled in her gut. She should be helping her more. She should be doing more than standing back. Selfishly, her fear of Meg interfering the second Cordelia made too much of an effort stopped her from giving Marjorie the comfort she deserved. If she did too much, Meg would find them and expose Cordelia to all of them. That she had once worked with Meg on deals just like Marjorie’s. That, deep down, she knew the wraith would be back one day- no one escapes a deal with a BloodWraith. That she could find Meg’s location in minutes, and the Winchester’s could have a shot at ending her. But that was uncertain, and Cordelia wasn’t one for wishful thinking.

She glanced at Sam, who was silently observing, his concern for Marjorie clear. Dean had gone silent, the tension in his body palpable. The unspoken bond between the three of them was tangible, and Cordelia knew she was the outsider here, unable to be part of that. But still, the guilt gnawed at her.

Marjorie was fading quickly and despite everything, Cordelia couldn’t ignore the pang of fear that she might lose her. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the thoughts. She loved Marjorie, truly. Looked at the girl like she had hung the stars in the sky. That’s why she was terrified. Terrified of seeing hate in Marjorie’s eyes and knowing it was directed at her. She couldn’t bear it.

"I don’t know how much longer she can take this," Sam muttered, as though reading her mind. He was standing next to her now, his hand resting on the back of the porch railing, his eyes focused on Marjorie.

Cordelia’s gaze flickered to him before she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “She’s strong. She’ll push through it. But…”

Her voice faltered, and Sam’s brow furrowed in concern. "But what?"

But I’m scared, she thought. She couldn’t say it. Not now. Not when Marjorie needed every ounce of strength she had left to fight this. Cordelia bit her lip, staring at the woman she had known for so long, seen so many versions of, and cared for each of them. But still, she kept her secrets locked away.

“I just hope she can,” Cordelia said, her words edged with something more than just concern. It was fear. Fear that the wraith would break Marjorie. Fear that Marjorie would break them- and maybe it wasn’t just the wraith she was afraid of.

The air grew heavier, the tension building between them as they watched Marjorie move through the haze of the wraith’s influence. Dean stepped forward, his hand gently landing on her shoulder as he joined her on the porch. The others followed suit, standing in a quiet solidarity.

But Cordelia couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. Whatever the wraith was doing to Marjorie, it was far from over.

*****

The wraith’s taunts were becoming more frequent, more aggressive. Every time she closed her eyes, it was there, twisting her thoughts, feeding on her doubts. Marjorie barely slept, knowing that even when she closed her eyes, the wraith would find a way in.

The silence in the room was oppressive, suffocating even. The air itself felt thick, as if the wraith had somehow infected every corner of the space, bending it to its will. Marjorie felt the walls closing in around her, her breath shallow as the taunts continued to echo in her mind.

"You don’t belong here," the wraith whispered again, its voice cold and biting. "They’ll all leave you eventually. You’re nothing to them, just a tool. Once they get what they need, they’ll cast you aside. Just like everyone else."

She shook her head, pressing her palms harder against her temples, trying to force the voice out, trying to push the suffocating weight of its words away. She didn’t want to believe it. She couldn’t.

"You're worthless," the wraith’s voice came again, louder now, more insistent. "They’re already starting to see it. The cracks are already showing. They’ll know you’re weak. And then they’ll abandon you."

The world around her blurred, her vision swimming as the wraith’s words dug into her like sharp needles. She stumbled backward, the edge of the table digging into her ribs as she tried to steady herself. But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.

Except, in her heart, a tiny part of her wondered if it was. What if it was right? What if everyone else really would leave her? What if the wraith’s voice had seen the truth before she could? What if she was already a burden to them, already a failure?

"Marjorie?" Dean’s voice was soft now, more tentative. "We need to talk."

The sound of his voice snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts, but it did nothing to ease the tightness in her chest. She could feel him standing outside the door, waiting, probably wondering why she hadn’t answered. But she couldn’t bring herself to respond, couldn’t let him hear how far gone she felt, how much the wraith had already taken from her.

"Yeah," she finally said, her voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper. "I’m fine. No need to get all soft."

The words felt like they were scraping against her throat, but they were the only ones she could force out.

A heavy silence followed, stretching between them like a chasm. She could almost feel Dean’s hesitation on the other side of the door, his concern mixing with something else- frustration, maybe. Was he angry with her? Did he think she was hiding something?

"We both know you’re not," Dean said quietly after a beat, his tone softer now, but still holding that edge of worry.

Marjorie didn’t respond. She couldn’t. If she did, she feared the crack in her composure would widen even further, and she’d be lost. She didn’t know how to explain it to him- how to make him understand the way the wraith had invaded her mind, how the darkness felt like it was eating her from the inside out. She couldn’t tell him how it whispered to her when no one else could hear it, how it twisted her every thought, every feeling.

She pressed her back into the wall, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to push the images and voices away. She could feel it all closing in again, the suffocating grip of the wraith creeping up on her, and the fear that it might be right- maybe she was weak, maybe she was just a failure.

But she wasn’t ready to let that truth- if it even was the truth- consume her. Not yet.

She opened her eyes slowly, and for a moment, just a moment, she could hear Dean on the other side, waiting, still unsure. His presence, even from behind the door, felt grounding, a reminder that maybe she wasn’t as alone in this as the wraith wanted her to think.

But still, she couldn’t let him in- not yet. Not until she could hold herself together, at least enough to face him without falling apart.

"Just give me a second," she finally whispered, so softly that she wasn’t sure he would hear it.

And for a long while, there was nothing. No answer, no footsteps retreating. Just silence. The kind of silence that left her trapped between her own thoughts and the wraith’s relentless whispers.

*****

The wraith didn’t let up. Not for a second.

Marjorie had barely slept in days, the taunts digging into her mind like claws, twisting her thoughts until she couldn’t tell what was real anymore. But tonight—it was worse.

She had been lulled into sleep, exhaustion finally winning out, but rest never came. Instead, she was there again. The house smelled of burning wood and blood, just as it had all those years ago.

And then, she saw her.

Eleanor.

Her daughter stood at the edge of the bed, small and fragile, just as she had been the last time Marjorie had seen her. Her dark curls were messy, her nightgown torn. But it was her eyes that made Marjorie’s stomach twist with terror- because they were filled with fear.

“Mama?” Eleanor’s voice wavered, tiny and afraid.

Marjorie couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

Then she saw what stood behind her.

The wraith loomed over Eleanor, its skeletal fingers curling around the girl’s small shoulders. It grinned, wide and monstrous, its yellowed teeth glistening in the dim light.

“You let me have her once,” it cooed, its voice echoing through the house. “You’ll let me have her again.”

“No,” Marjorie choked, finally finding her voice.

“Oh, but you will.”

The wraith’s grip tightened on Eleanor, and the little girl screamed- a heart-wrenching, piercing cry that shook the foundation of the dream itself.

Marjorie lunged forward, but the second she reached for her daughter, the image shattered.

She gasped awake, her body drenched in sweat, her heart slamming against her ribs. She was in her room at Cordelia’s, but it still felt like she was there, trapped in the nightmare.

The wraith’s laughter echoed in her skull.

Marjorie sat up, breathing hard. The truth hit her like a slap to the face.

This was never going to stop.

It would keep tormenting her, keep whispering in her ear, keep dragging her daughter into her nightmares. It would never stop unless she ended it herself.

Her hands trembled as she pushed the blankets aside. She wouldn’t let it win.

She wouldn’t let it take anything else from her.

Not now. Not ever.

She stood and crossed the room, grabbing the small bag she had packed earlier that day- just in case. Her fingers curled around the leather strap, and she took one last look at the room before slipping out the door.

She was doing this alone.

Because it had to be her.

*****

The stillness of the house was off.

It wasn’t the typical quiet of the night, where the wind rustled the leaves outside, and the world seemed to hum with secrets whispered just beyond reach. This silence felt wrong, sharp- a quiet that pressed on Dean’s chest like a weight, making him uneasy for reasons he couldn’t quite place.

He hadn’t been able to sleep, the tension from the last week still eating at him. They had now been at Cordelia’s for two weeks, and each day Marjorie seemed to get worse and worse. After hours of tossing and turning, he’d given up on rest. Coffee was the only thing that could numb the gnawing discomfort that had taken root. As he passed Marjorie’s door on the way to the kitchen, a fleeting thought stopped him in his tracks.

Her door was cracked open.

A thread of anxiety coiled tight in his gut.

"Marjorie?" Dean called softly, his voice cutting through the oppressive stillness. His feet carried him closer to the door before he even realized it.

There was no answer.

He pushed the door open, his heart rate picking up, eyes scanning the dark room. The moonlight streamed across the bed, empty but for tangled blankets. The missing bag from the corner, the one she’d packed earlier, was gone.

And then it hit him.

She was gone.

Dean muttered a curse under his breath, his body already moving in the direction of the stairs, a cold, familiar panic curling at the edges of his mind.

“Son of a bitch.”

He stormed down the hallway, intent on finding her, his thoughts running wild. The wraith. She was going after the wraith. And she was doing it alone. Damn it, she was reckless, always so damn reckless.

Sam was already awake when he appeared at the door of the backporch, rubbing his face and trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. “What’s wrong?” he asked, blinking at his brother.

“She’s gone.” Dean didn’t stop to explain, barely slowing his pace as he strode past Sam.

Sam frowned, confusion still clouding his features. “Wait, what?”

“She took off. Packed a bag. No sign of her anywhere.” Dean reached for his jacket, frustration mounting with every second that passed.

Cordelia appeared then, emerging from the shadows like a shadow herself, her sharp eyes immediately landing on Dean. “What’s all the noise?”

“Marjorie’s missing,” Dean snapped, feeling the weight of the situation pressing in on him.

Cordelia’s face darkened, a storm brewing in her expression. “Damn it.”

Dean’s frustration bubbled over. “You knew she’d do this?”

“I suspected she might,” Cordelia admitted, her voice tight with a mixture of anger and fear. She grabbed her coat, her movements precise. “But I was hoping she'd have enough sense to wait.”

Sam, ever the detective, was already putting the pieces together. “She’s going after the wraith.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair, the words coming out in a tight, exasperated breath. “Yeah. Thanks, Sherlock.”

Cordelia’s jaw tightened, her eyes flickering with a mix of concern and something darker, something she couldn’t quite hide. “Then we’d better move.”

Dean and Sam exchanged a look, that silent agreement passing between them like a spark. No hesitation. No second thoughts. They couldn’t let Marjorie go face the wraith alone. Not now. Not after everything she’d been through.

Dean grabbed his keys, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. “Let’s go.”

As they rushed out of the house, Cordelia’s thoughts churned, a storm she struggled to contain. She was terrified for Marjorie, of course. But that wasn’t the only thing keeping her up at night. If Marjorie went after the wraith, if she confronted it—there was a real chance that Cordelia’s secret, the one she’d buried so deep inside for so long, could come to light. And if it did—if the brothers found out what she was hiding—there was no telling what would happen next.

She could feel it closing in on her, that dark fear that she might lose everything she’d worked so hard to protect.

And maybe, just maybe, that was what scared her more than anything else.

*****

The abandoned warehouse loomed out before Marjorie like a hollow, forgotten shell. The air inside was thick with decay, the once strong structure now bowing under years of neglect. The cieling, lined with rusted beams, creaked and groaned in protest as the wind outside clawed at the walls, but in here, it was dead quiet. The scent of damp earth and rotting wood mingled with the sharp, pungent tang of incense, creating a strange tension that clung to the air, making every breath feel heavy.

The candlelight flickered, casting long, distorted shadows that stretched across the cracked concrete floor. Marjorie moved carefully, each step deliberate as she centered herself within the sigil-marked containment circle. The symbols were intricate and glowing faintly- a brilliant blue- barely visible in the dark, but they had been drawn with precision, each stroke of chalk and blood a calculated effort to trap the wraith.

An incessant drip fell to the floor, the thick, crimson liquid draining from her now cut wrist and plummeting to the floor with each step she took. The pain from the cut did not phase her- one, insignificant injury was helping her end this.

Her fingers tightened around the relic she had brought- the locket. It was small, fragile, and twisted from the fire that had destroyed everything she had once known. No one knew she had kept the jewelery- she was scared it would be taken from her. The delicate metal had been burned, the glass cracked, but it was still there, the remnants of her daughters life. A life lost. A past that haunted her.

She had allowed Eleanor to occupy her thoughts more in the past two weeks than she had since the day she lost her. Perhaps it was Cordelia’s warmth and admiration, or maybe it was the way Sam looked at her with those soulful, puppy-dog eyes when he asked about what happened. Or maybe it was how Dean gazed at her, as if they were the only two people in that diner, while she rambled on and on about her little girl. She wasn’t sure what it was. But one thing was clear: she had stopped avoiding it, letting the brothers slip past the walls she’d worked so hard to fortify.

Her heart hammered in her chest, as she knelt before the circle, placing the locket directly in the center. This was the final step. The wraith would come for her, of course. It had been lurking in the shadows, feeding off her fear, her grief. But this time, it wouldn’t win. This time, she would take back control.

The chanting started, the words flowing from her lips, ancient and familiar, yet foreign at the same time. Latin. Or perhaps something older. Something her grandmother had once spoken, something that had been passed down through generations of women who had carried their power in silence. She didn’t understand all of it, but she didn’t need to. She knew the intent. She knew what needed to be done.

The air around her vibrated with energy as she spoke the incantation, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. The sigils around the circle flared to life, glowing brighter as the ritual took hold.

For a moment, everything was still.

And then, the wraith answered.

A gust of wind, sharp and sudden, whipped through the space, though the windows were shattered long ago. The candles flickered wildly, casting strange, erratic shadows against the walls. Marjorie felt the shift in the air, the temperature plummeting, the weight of it pressing against her skin like a heavy hand.

It was here.

Her breath hitched as the whispering started, faint at first, like the rustling of leaves on a distant breeze. But then it grew louder- closer. A sound that slid under her skin, into her bones.

“Marjorie…”

The voice was soft at first, almost tender, like a memory. But there was a dark edge to it, a twist that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

She gritted her teeth, trying to keep her focus. This was it. This was the moment she had been preparing for. The wraith would show itself, and she would confront it. She had no choice.

“Mama…”

Her heart stopped, and for a moment, she felt the ground beneath her shift. She could hear it so clearly- Eleanor’s voice, sweet and innocent, calling to her from the depths of the memory she had worked so hard to bury. It was different than her dream. Eleanor was here. The same voice that had echoed in her ears the night of the fire. The same voice that haunted her dreams, her waking hours.

The memory hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her with the force of something she couldn’t outrun. She was back there, back in that horrible place. The heat of the flames licking at her skin. The smoke that had suffocated her. The crackle of fire eating away at everything she had ever loved.

“No…” Marjorie whispered. She couldn’t. She couldn’t let herself go back there. Not again. Not now.

But the wraith was relentless. It wasn’t just a shadow. It was a memory made flesh, a cruel manipulation of everything Marjorie had ever feared.

The temperature dropped further, the air thickening with a cold that bit into her skin. The warehouse seemed to darken, the walls stretching and shifting as though the very space itself was warping under the wraith’s influence.

And then she heard it- the scream.

It was so real, so visceral, that Marjorie felt her chest tighten, her breath catching in her throat. She could see it now- Elanor’s face, pale and twisted with pain, her small body writhing as the flames consumed her. The smoke choked her, and the heat was unbearable. The vision was vivid, too vivid, like it was happening all over again.

“Eleanor…” The name slipped from her lips, a cry of agony that she couldn’t hold back.

The wraith was feeding on her grief, on the weakness it had always known was there.

But Marjorie fought to stay grounded. She could feel the ritual pulling at her, the energy of the sigils battling against the wraith’s pull. She had to stay strong. She had to let go.

“Mamma… Help me…”

Eleanor stood before her. Barefoot. Soot-stained. Brown eyes hollowed by death.

“Why didn’t you save me?”

The words dug in like barbs. Marjorie’s entire body went rigid, the knife in her hand growing impossibly heavy.

“You let me burn.”

The words twisted, warping into something grotesque, the voice no longer her child’s, but something ancient and cruel. The girl’s lips turned into a sneer, her small hands flexing as nails blackened and sharpened into talons.

“You let me die, screaming for you.”

Marjorie staggered back, nausea curling in her stomach.

“No, El, I swear. I tried everything. Baby, there were too many of them.”

“You were supposed to be powerful, mama. You left me alone. I have no one.”

“You’re not real.” Marjorie jammed her fists into the side of her head, over and over again, trying to rid the image of her dead daughter standing in front of her.

The wraith was a parasite, feeding on the worst parts of her. It was using her love for Eleanor as a weapon, twisting it into something ugly.

Eleanor was gone. The child she couldn’t save was lost to the flames.

The wraith wasn’t her. It wasn’t Eleanor. It was just an echo, a twisted thing that had been feeding off her pain.

Marjorie’s eyes snapped open, and she stood taller, her hands clutching the blade. “You cant control me anymore,” she hissed, her voice steady, almost cold.

The wraith’s form flickered and shuddered, its distorted figure contorting as it reached out toward her. The air around them seemed to scream with a deafening roar, the force of the wraith’s power shaking the very foundation of the warehouse.

But Marjorie didn’t flinch. The fire in her veins wasn’t just from the ritual-it was from the anger. She wasn’t just fighting the wraith. She was fighting her own weakness.

The sigils around her flared with light as the wraith fought to maintain its form. The more Marjorie accepted the truth, the more it shrank, its ethereal body weakening.

“I’m not scared of you.”

And then, just as it seemed the wraith was about to snap into full corporeal form, the door to the warehouse crashed open.

Cordelia stepped into the room, her eyes wide with shock at the sight of the writhing shadow in front of Marjorie. She hesitated, fear flashing across her face as she watched the battle unfold.

“Marjorie, you-” she started, but Marjorie didn’t listen. Her focus was fixed entirely on the wraith, her grip tightening on the blade she had drawn earlier- a consecrated weapon soaked in blood. The ritual was almost complete. The wraith was vulnerable.

Suddenly, the air felt alive, buzzing with malignant energy, and a whisper cut though the stillness.

“Cordelia, how nice of you to join us.”

Marjorie stiffened. Her eyes flickered toward Cordelia, who had stepped back slightly, her expression panicked. Marjorie’s pulse quickened- what was going on?

A soft laugh echoed, cruel and guttual, from somewhere deep in the shadows. The sound twisted, warping, and then the wraiths form expanded- larger and stronger than before. It was using Cordelia’s fear.

It’s eyes, dark and glistening with malicious intent were fixed on Cordelia.

“Oh this one,” the wraith hissed, stretching its words like a snake, mockery evident in its words. “She’s so good at pretending, isn’t she? At hiding her true nature… her secrets…”

Marjorie’s heart stopped for a moment, but her stance stayed firm and her eyes didn’t leave the wraith. She could feel Cordelia stiffen, but her hands rattled against her sides.

“You think you’re so clever, Cordelia… you think you’ve hidden it all so well… but I see you… I know you…” The wraith’s form flickered and rippled, growing more solid with each passing second. Its voice grew louder, more distorted, like the scraping of nails on a chalkboard. “How many times have you danced with darkness, hmm? How many times have you betrayed those you claimed to love?”

Cordelia’s breath caught. Marjorie’s eyes widened as she saw the flicker of panic in Cordelia’s eyes- the subtle tremble of her shoulders. It was the same look Marjorie had seen in her own reflection, the same terror of being exposed, of being known for something terrible. The wraith was feeding on that fear, twisting it into something sharp, something deadly.

The wraith’s laugh echoed, guttural and sharp. “Poor, poor Cordelia… how many times did you think you could lie to her?” It was a sickening mockery of sympathy. “You think you’ve escaped your past, but I know what you did.”

Marjorie’s mind spun, and suddenly the pieces started clicking into place. The way Cordelia had always been so protective, so careful with Marjorie. The unspoken tension. The guarded glances. The secrets she’d kept hidden beneath the surface.

The wraith’s shadowy form grew bolder, twisting into something almost human now, a grotesque, sneering parody of a person. The voice that came from it was now low and slithering. “What was it you offered to get all of this? To live this lie? Tell her, Cordelia… tell her what you’ve done.”

Cordelia’s hand tightened at her side, her knuckles white. “No- stop,” she hissed, stepping back. But the wraith’s voice only grew louder.

“You don’t have to hide anymore, Cordelia. I know. I see you. How much blood has stained your hands? How many people have you thrown away to keep yourself safe?” The wraith took a step forward, its eyes glowing with cruel delight. “How you led me right to your precious Marjorie. You and Meg. Does she know that you were one of my best soldiers? How you found all those sad, innococent people and tricked them into deals? How you’re the reason I am here in the first place.”

Marjorie’s pulse thundered in her ears, her stomach twisting as she watched Cordelia’s mask crack, just a little. Just enough for her to see it- the fear. The guilt. The truth.

“I- I didn’t-” Cordelia’s voice was shaky, her lips pressing together as if she were struggling to keep herself from breaking down. But the wraith didn’t give her the space to explain. It wasn’t interested in explanations. It was interested in torment.

You think I didn’t see the way you looked at her? How you tried to control everything around you?” The wraith’s sneering face moved closer to Cordelia, its shadow darkening her features. “You were never just her ally, were you, Cordelia? You were her jailer. You thought you could hold her down, keep her from realizing the truth about herself. About you.”

The air was thick with tension, a mixture of guilt, betrayal, and suffocating fear. Marjorie could feel it pulling at her, tightening around her chest, but she didn’t look away. She couldn’t. Not now. She had to see it. She had to know.

The wraith wasn’t done. It turned its attention back to Marjorie, its mocking grin widening.

“You think she’s your ally? Your friend? Your savior?” It twisted the words, each syllable laden with contempt. “What happens when you find out she’s been playing you all along? Without her, you would’ve never made that deal with me. Would’ve never had the false hope of a daughter reborn- would’ve never had to see sweet Eleanor die for a second time.”

Marjorie’s blood ran cold as the wraith’s form flickered and twisted. Its laughter echoed one last time before it finally evaporated, leaving only the cold, suffocating silence that remained between them.

For a moment, no one spoke. No one moved.

Cordelia stood frozen, her face pale, her eyes wide with something that was a mix of shame and terror. The breath left her in a shaky exhale, as though the wraith’s words had carved deep into her, leaving marks that would never fully fade.

Marjorie’s heart pounded, a cold rage beginning to grow in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t just confronted the wraith tonight- she’d confronted her own darkest memories. But Cordelia had betrayed her, too. The truth was undeniable now.

Cordelia had known. She had known the wraith’s true power, and she had been hiding it all along, playing a dangerous game with both Marjorie and herself.

Marorie turned to Cordelia now, blazing tendrils of blue surging down her arms and curling around her hands. “You knew.” Her voice was tight, controlled. “You did this to me.”

Cordelia opened her mouth, but the words came out weak, barely a whisper. “My girl, I didn’t-”

“You brought that thing to me. You knew I would say yes- that I would die.”

Marjorie’s voice cracked. Cordelia had been just as much part ofthis as the wraith.

“I left that life behind,” Cordelia’s voice was choked, full of something that could’ve been regret. Probably fear. “I chose you. I protected you for years, Marjorie. Everything I did- it was to keep you safe.”

“You lied to me.”

“I had to.”

“No, you didn’t!” Marjorie’s entire being was shaking now. The ground beneath them rumbled slightly, shaking the old building like the wind in a thunderstorm.

Cordelia, her Cordelia, the woman who had raised her, cared for her, loved her- had been hiding this from her the entire time.

The wraiths form flickered again, its mocking laughter filling the room with the worst kind of poison. “It’s too late now, Cordelia. She’s got you all figured out.”

Marjorie barely heard it.

Her eyes were locked on Cordelia’s, searching for something, anything that would make this hurt less.

“Do you have any regrets?” she whispered. “Doing this to me?”

Cordelia swallowed hard. “Every day.”

The wraith laughed again.

"Tell me, Marjorie-if I let you hear her voice again, if I let you see her little face just one more time-would you let me in? Would you let me crawl inside your head, take all that grief, all that guilt, and make it stop?"

It stopped in front of her, right in her face, breath like spoiled meat.

"You want that, don’t you? To be free of this?"

Her throat was so tight she could barely breathe.

For a terrifying, shameful second-she did want that.

No more waking up gasping for air.

No more hearing screams in her dreams.

No more guilt sinking its claws into her ribs.

Just… nothing.

But then she thought of Cordelia’s voice, steady even in her betrayal.

She thought of Dean’s concern, of Sam’s quiet faith in her, of the life she had built-however fragile.

She thought of everything this thing had taken from her.

She would not let it win.

"No."

The wraith’s grin twisted into something monstrous.

"Liar."

It lunged.

Marjorie barely had time to react before it was on her, knocking the knife from her grasp. She hit the ground hard, the impact rattling her bones.

Cold fingers wrapped around her throat.

Her vision blurred, the air squeezed from her lungs.

The wraith hovered over her, its face shifting-Eleanor, Cordelia, Meg, even herself.

It wanted to break her.

To own her.

Her fingers scraped against the floor, desperate, searching-until they curled around something familiar.

Cold metal.

The locket.

The last thing she had of Eleanor.

The offering she had used to summon this monster.

Marjorie gritted her teeth.

With the last of her strength, she slammed the locket against the wraith’s forehead.

The sigils in the containment circle flared to life, blinding-bright.

The wraith let out a shriek of agony, its grip loosening just enough for Marjorie to throw it off. She scrambled to her feet, gasping, reaching for the knife-

And then it was just her and the wraith, both on their knees, facing each other.

Marjorie lifted the blade.

The wraith smiled.

"Do it, then."

Marjorie’s breath was ragged.

The wraith wanted her to kill it in anger. It thrived on rage, on suffering.

But it wouldn’t get that.

Not from her.

"Shut. Up," she whispered.

She drove the blade into its heart.

The wraith screamed, its form twisting, breaking. Its body blackened, its flesh curling away in wisps of ash as the containment circle erupted in light.

For a brief, agonizing moment, its shifting form locked onto Eleanor’s face one last time.

Marjorie clenched her jaw.

"Go to Hell."

With a final, piercing shriek—

The wraith was gone.

Ashes scattered to the warehouse floor.

But the silence that followed felt different. Empty. Marjorie stood there, panting, the blade still in her hand, staring at the spot where the wraith had once been.

Cordelia stepped forward hesitantly, her face pale, eyes full of something Marjorie didn’t recognize-fear, regret, and guilt all mixed into one fragile expression.

Marjorie turned her back on her, unable to face her any longer. Her heart was still pounding in her chest, but there was something else now. Something cold.

She turned to leave.

“I trusted you,” Marjorie said , her voice low, almost calm now. “I trusted you and you didn’t care. One-hundred and fourteen years, Cordelia. That’s how long you’ve had to tell me. ”

“Marjorie-”

“The worst part about all of it, is that if you asked me now, I would probably forgive you.”

Cordelia flinched as though struck, her mouth opening and closing, desperate to find words that could undo the weight of what had just happened. But there was nothing. No excuse, no justification that could erase the truth.

Marjorie stopped at the threshold of the warehouse, her back still to Cordelia. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of burned wax and old blood, remnants of the ritual that had bound and killed the wraith. But the betrayal, the realization that Cordelia had been playing her all along- that was what suffocated her now.

Slowly, she turned her head, her voice barely above a whisper, but sharp enough to cut like a blade.

“If I ever see you again…” She let the words hang in the air, thick with unspoken threat. “I will kill you.”

Cordelia sucked in a breath, but she didn’t move, didn’t try to stop her.

Marjorie didn’t wait for a reply. She turned and stepped out into the night, her boots crunching against the gravel outside the warehouse. The air was cold against her skin, but inside, she was burning.

She didn’t look back.

*****

Marjorie didn’t stop walking until she reached the edge of the warehouse lot, where the Imapala was parked haphazardly, its doors already open. Sam and Dean stood by the car, tense, weapons in hand. Deans face was a storm of emotion- anger, concern, something deeper he couldn’t put a name to. Sam looked exhausted, eyes flickering between her and the warehouse like he was still piecing everything together.

She barely registered them. Her body felt like it was moving on auto-pilot, her hands shaking as the adrenaline wore off. The night was still, unnervingly so, after everything that had just happened.

Dean was the first to speak. “Marjorie.”

She didn’t stop. Didn’t acknowledge him.

He took a step forward, cutting off her path before she could get any further. “What the hell happened in there?”

Marjorie didn’t look at him, her eyes somewhere else, far away from any of them. She was breathing hard, the taste of ash and blood lingered on her tongue. “It’s dead,” she said flatly.

Dean searched her face. “Cordelia?”

A muscle in her jaw twitched. “Gone.”

Sam stepped forward, cautious. “Gone?”

“I told her I’d kill her if I saw her again, so for her sake. I hope she’s long gone.”

Silence. The weight of her words hung heavy between them.

Deans mouth pressed into a tight line, but he didn’t argue. He just watched her, eyes scanning every inch of her like he was trying to make sure she was still standing, still her.

Sam, however, frowned. “Marj…”

“Don’t.” She shook her head, her voice raw. “Don’t make this into something it’s not.”

Sam backed off, knowing better than to push her right now.

Dean took a second step forward. “You’re bleeding.”

Marjorie finally blinked, looking down at her hands. Her knuckles were raw, her nails still lined with the remnants of the ritual. The deeper wound on her arm, a thin angry cut from where she bled to summon the raise pulsed quickly.

She swallowed. “It’s a paper cut.”

“Yeah, well, your ‘paper cut’ needs stitches,” Dean muttered, already moving toward the trunk of the Impala to grab their make-shift first aid kit.

Marjorie watched him for a second, some of the ice in her chest cracking, just barely. Then she let out a slow breath and sat down on the open passenger seat of the car, her body finally succumbing to the exhaustion she had been pushing back.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Dean said after a moment. “Not now.”

Marjorie gave a short, bitter laugh. “Good.”

Dean retuned with the first aid kit and knelt beside her. “This is gonna sting.”

Marjorie met his gaze and sighed, “Go ahead.”

As Dean cleaned her arm, his hands careful but firm. Marjorie leaned her head against the door, her eyes fluttering shut. Sam stood next to her, giving her shoulder a squeeze everytime she would wince.

Dean finished wrapping the gauze around her arm, his mouth set in that gruff, focused line. Marjorie watched the muscle in his jaw ticked, the way he worked through his emotions by doing something. She wanted to say something- maybe to ground herself, maybe to pull the concern off his face- but nothing same.

“We should go,” Dean spoke, rising from his kneeling position.

Marjorie blinked, her gaze stuck to him. He wasn’t looking at her, but his tone was pointed.

Sam looked down at his brother. “Go where?”

“Meg.” Dean exhaled. “She’s still out there, and after everything tonight…” He hesitated, then finally locked eyes with Marjorie. “She’s numero dos, isn’t she?”

Sam scoffed. “Hold on, you’re telling me we’re going into this with no rest, no plan- just full-speed ahead to whatever the hell Meg’s got waiting for us?”

“Yes,” Marjorie’s voice was steady. “And I’m coming with.”

Sam’s eyes snapped to her. “You just took on the wraith alone, and now you want to go hunt a demon?”

She lifted her chin. “I’m not sitting around while she’s still out there.”

Sam shifted, like he agreed but didn’t quite want to say it aloud.

Dean let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair. “I swear to God, you two are gonna kill me.”

Marjorie smirked, just a little. “You’d be bored otherwise.”

Dean shot her a look, but there wasn’t real heat behind it.

Sam cleared his throat, pushing off the car. “We need to figure out where she is. I’ll dig into possible leads, but she’s smart- she’s not gonna make it easy.”

“Perfect,” Marjorie muttered, rubbing her now bandaged arm.

Dean pointed at her. “You are getting rest first.”

She opened her mouth to argue.

“Not negotiable,” he added.

Marjorie huffed, but didn’t push.

Sam pulled out his phone, already scanning for anything that might give them a lead. “Marjorie, get some sleep.”

She nodded, moving to crawl into the back seat. Dean moved toward’s the drivers side, but before he climbed in he shot her another glance.

“You’re with us now, huh?”

Marjorie tilted her head back against the worn leather. “Guess so.”

Dean shook his head, but a faint smile made its way to his face. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Sam snorted.

Marjorie gave him a wink, allowing herself to relax into the seats, eyes falling shut once again.

Despite the exhaustion, despite everything, they were a trio now. And now matter what came next, they were in it together.

*****

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