#and spent a long enough time there to get attached to the coffee

[bikananjarrus]

you know kanan and hera had the most sickeningly sweet, mushy, lovey-dovey honeymoon phase bc hera let kanan take her on a little island beach getaway to the moons of rion.

[littlcdarlin]

Into Temptation – The Visit

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 (each part can be read as a standalone)

summary: Tommy comes over to scold Joel, and you like his eyes on you a little more than expected. warnings: exhibitionism (not actually — reader just likes the idea and Joel dirty talks about it), big girthy age gap (20 & late 50s), daddy kink, breeding kink, orgasm control (sort of), Joel calls reader "kid" or "kiddo", Joel kind of answers for reader when talking to Tommy, not a depiction of a healthy relationship but not dark enough to be dark!joel, pervert!joel, naive!reader, discussion of free use kink

note: we’re working towards Tommy possibly joining in on some fun, but I’m not decided on whether I’ll go through with that! Let me know what you think and enjoy this piece of utter filth, you freaks <3 I love you

It’s been almost two weeks, and you still haven’t gone home to your place. Joel isn’t sure if there is any documentation about who owns which house in Jackson, but he’d have no problem with Tommy and Maria giving yours away, in fact, the idea of you sleeping in any other bed but his bothers him, even if it’s your very own. Luckily you haven’t made any comments about wanting to go home, more than content with staying with Joel. When he isn’t fucking you, or you’re sleeping, you follow him from room to room like a lost puppy, just as glad not to be lonely anymore as Joel is.

He’s well aware under different circumstances you’d form a less extreme attachment to someone much younger than him, but therapists are hard to come by given that the world has ended, so he tries not to think too much about how severely you seem to need him. You don’t even like showering alone, preferring for Joel to wash your body with his sponge and soap and tenderly massaging your scalp with shampoo. And he obliges every time, if only to pin your wrists against the shower wall and make you come once or twice. It’s efficient, really, no need to clean up afterwards with the shower washing away the sweat and come.

Both of your sleeping schedules have unravelled, because most nights you wake Joel with a throbbing between your legs that needs taking care of, Joel happily fucking you back to sleep with lazy thrusts, plugging you with his cock for the rest of the night, so that none of his spent leaks out of you – he can’t wash the sheets every day, and he’s still trying to get you pregnant.

The mornings are spent with you on top of him, your little body clinging to his, either just lounging around, drifting in and out of sleep, humping his thigh, or bouncing on his cock until he flips you around and fucks you into the mattress.

Afterwards he makes you breakfast, swallows his eggs and guilt about having missed another patrol, watches you drink your coffee, and joins you in the shower to clean up. It’s bliss, a debauched slice of heaven he rationally knows can’t last forever. You’ll snap out of it any day now, and run away screaming when you count the years between the two of you, or Tommy will put a pistol to his head and throw him out of town.

He’s not far off, but when Tommy shows up it’s with a stern expression in place of the pistol. You’re sleeping upstairs, so Joel sighs, and opens the door for Tommy to step in. He knows he can’t avoid him forever, though every part of him screams at him to defend this little bubble the two of you have created.

"Where’s the kid?", Tommy asks, not even pretending his visit is about anything else.

"Upstairs," Joel answers, "she’s sleeping."

Tommy hums.

"Do you…wanna come in?"

"Depends," Tommy answers cooly, "how long are you plannin’ on keeping her here?"

Joel huffs – he knew Tommy wouldn’t get it, would think of this as something it isn’t.

"She can leave any time, Tommy, I’m not keepin’ her anywhere."

Tommy watches him for what feels like a long time, then he sighs, shakes his head, and makes his way into the living room. His eyes drift over your dress, hanging over the back of a dining chair since you prefer Joel’s clothes now anyway.

"I’m gonna say this one last time, Joel, and then it’s outta my hands, alright? She’s too fuckin’ young for you, and you need to send her home if you don’t want this…this thing to ruin both of your lives in Jackson. This isn’t the QZ, and it certainly isn’t the forest. People have a moral compass here, and you’re fucking pushin’ it."

He’s right, of course he’s right. Joel has noticed the glances in his direction when he gets food while you’re sleeping, he hears the whispers at the Tipsy Bison when they see the barely disguised marks he left on your neck and chest. But really, what has he lost because of it? He’s not exactly known for his deep friendships with the other citizens of Jackson, and Tommy’s still speaking to him. Sure, you’ve seen your friends less and less, sitting in Joel’s lap instead of at their table whenever you’re at the bar now, but you’ve told him how little you have in common with them apart from your age. The way he sees it, the both of you are only gaining something.

"She wants this, Tommy, I swear she does. I know it’s…different…extreme, but she’s happy with it. So am I."

"Sure you are," Tommy mutters, but he sighs, and sits down on the couch. "I’m not gonna get through to you, am I?"

Joel walks over to the cabinet in the corner and gets out his bottle of whiskey.

"Look," he says, pouring two glasses, "I didn’t plan this. It just sort of…happened."

"Gettin’ into golf happens like that, Joel, not fucking the barely legal new girl."

They drink the whiskey in silence, and Joel wonders how Tommy would react if you woke up and came downstairs the way you always do, naked except for Joel’s too big shirt, bare feet and legs begging to be warmed up.

"You bein’ safe at least?"

"Jesus, Tommy," Joel groans, feeling like a teenager who brought home his first girlfriend.

"They’ll crucify you if you get her pregnant. Heard the guys at the Bison talking about what they’d do if she was their daughter."

"Well, she ain’t," Joel mutters, remembering your little chants of DaddyDaddyDaddy just last night, as he bounced you up and down on his cock.

"You’ve known her for what, a month? Don’t be stupid, Joel," Tommy presses on, almost begging now. "She’s twenty years old, you’re pushin’ sixty. Tell me she’s not havin’ your kid."

"She’s not pregnant, no," Joel answers evasively. But she will be. Tommy hears the meaning behind Joel’s words and shakes his head.

"Christ almighty, you’re beyond help."

Yes, Joel thinks, so stop trying to help. He drains the last of his whiskey, when the bedroom door opens, and he hears the familiar sound of your bare feet coming down the stairs. Tommy sighs.

Your hair is messy, your eyes droopy, Joel’s white shirt bright against your skin. Purple hickeys are blooming on your neck, your collarbones, your shoulders, and there’s a small bruise forming on your arm from when Joel grabbed you a little too tightly two nights ago. He knows what you look like to Tommy, like some sort of live-in-Lolita, but his brother hasn’t heard you beg for it, plead with Joel to let you come. You’re not here against your will.

"Hi," you say, surprise evident in your sleepy voice.

"Hello," Tommy answers, offering you a small smile. You answer with a blinding one yourself, one that has Joel’s chest growing tight with fondness. 

"I didn’t know you were coming over, I would’ve put on something else," you say timidly, and Joel’s jaw ticks. This is as good as your home now, you shouldn’t apologize for wearing the clothes you like – or lack thereof.

"Come here, baby," he says before Tommy can answer, and you do so without question, no intention of running back upstairs to put on a pair of pants. You sit down on Joel’s knee, his shirt hitching up your thighs a little. Tommy watches quietly as Joel’s hand finds your waist, rubbing soothing circles.

"I wanted to talk to you about patrols," Tommy says after a beat, clearly trying to move the conversion along. "I’ll stop bothering you two if you don’t miss them again."

It’s a fair exchange, Joel thinks, although really, Tommy should stop bothering you either way. Still, people might find it easier to look past what Joel does to you if he performs well in regards to his duties. So he agrees, and Tommy seems to relax a little. Then he addresses you.

"Maria told me you got the first couple of weeks off to get used to Jackson, but they’re almost over. Would you prefer kitchen duty, or the stables?"

Before you can open your mouth, Joel answers for you.

"She needs a little more time," he says, his palm slipping over your stomach possessively. "To…settle in."

He knows he’s really pushing Tommy’s patience, but the idea of you cutting your fingers with a knife or being kicked by a horse…he much prefers having you here, waiting for him. And you don’t object, just settle more comfortably against his front, your hand finding his on your tummy.

Tommy’s brows are furrowed, but Joel can see his eyes flickering over your bare thighs, Joel’s hand on your stomach, and he almost smirks. Even if Tommy is a righteous communist now, he’s also just a man.

"One month," he says, getting up from the sofa, "one month, Joel, and then she’ll be workin’ like everyone else."

Good, Joel thinks, one month is all I need.

He isn’t sure you’re entirely aware you’ll get pregnant if the two of you keep up what you’ve been doing, but every time he plans on pulling out and having a conversation about it, you whine and plead until he gives in and pumps you full of his come. You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, even if it might seem the other way around to Tommy.

When Joel agrees, Tommy gets up from the couch, and Joel lifts you off of his lap. His shirt hitches dangerously high on your thighs, he’s sure you aren’t wearing anything underneath it, and Tommy’s eyes flicker towards your legs for just a moment. Joel puts a hand on the small of your back, walking his brother out.

"Come visit us again," you tell Tommy to everyone’s surprise, a sweet smile on your lips. "You’re the only one who does."

Tommy’s eyes linger on yours for a beat, then he smiles back.

"Sure, kid. You keep an eye on my brother."

You chuckle, agree, and then Tommy nods at Joel.

"Think about what I said," he says seriously.

"Alright," Joel sighs, fully aware nothing his brother tells him will stop him from taking you on the couch as soon as the door is closed. 

You smile at him when Tommy is gone, and press your smaller body against his. He leans down to kiss you, his hands sliding up the sides of your thighs and under your shirt – he was right, you’re not wearing panties.

"Jesus, baby, you almost gave Tommy a heart attack," he drawls, one hand trailing down your stomach and over your mound, until his fingers are rubbing circles into your clit. Within seconds you go from kind hostess to needy and plaint in his hands, as if no change occurred at all, as if you would have let him do this in front of Tommy. He gently prods at your entrance, gathers the wetness there and groans.

"Oh sweetheart, when did this start?"

You move your hips, but Joel holds you steady, and keeps teasing you with one finger, not quite pushing in.

"When you told me to sit in your lap," you breathe, burying your face in Joel’s chest, and he chuckles.

"You’ve sat in my lap plenty of times, kiddo, what had you all hot n bothered?"

He knows the answer before you say it, feel it heavy in the air between you.

"Tommy," you whisper, and Joel rewards you by circling your clit again.

"What about Tommy?"

"I…I liked that he watched," you breathe, your hands gripping Joel’s shirt tightly. He pushes one finger into you, watches you tremble, barely able to hold yourself upright here in the hallway, but he holds you steady and makes you take it.

"You like sittin’ in my lap half naked while Tommy watches? Should’ve come downstairs without a shirt, angel, I’m sure Tommy wouldn’t have minded. In fact, I think he liked watchin’, too."

You moan at his words, and when he curls his finger, it turns into a yelp, and suddenly you’re coming, gushing around him, pretty face all ashamed and hidden away Joel’s chest.

He could be angry with you, because you didn’t ask his permission, but he knows you didn’t disobey him on purpose – your reaction was honest and raw. The idea of Tommy watching you naked in Joel’s lap was enough to make you come on only one finger, and it has Joel hard within seconds. It means he’s not your little hide-away fantasy, or an escape from reality. You want him the way you always do, and you want him with the world watching.

When he takes your face between his hands and forces you to look up, your expression is guilty.

"I’m sorry, Daddy," you say nervously, but Joel just kisses you.

"That’s okay, babygirl, you couldn’t help it. You like the idea of someone watchin’ what I do to you?"

"Yes," you whisper, cheeks all scarlet the way he likes them.

 "How about I haul your ass over to the Tipsy Bison and fuck you right there, huh? Bet that would have this pretty pussy gushin’."

You whimper and press your hips to Joel’s, desperately trying to find some friction, but he picks you up easily, and carries you to the couch.

"Want me to do this to ya in front of all of Jackson?"

Your hips twitch, but you shake your head.

"No, D-daddy."

"No? Why not, baby?"

He takes off your shirt, you arms raising for him easily, undressing you a practiced routine by now.

"They’d be angry, Daddy," you breathe, "Tommy said they’d crucify you."

So you heard, heard how pregnancy is a possibility, how people think Joel is a dirty old man, how his own brother felt he needed to intervene, and still, only minutes after, he had you trembling and coming on his fingers. In fact, you want him to continue, and fantasize about people seeing you.

"I see, baby, you want people enjoy the show? You liked when Tommy looked at your legs?"

His hands find your tits, and he teases your nipples, rolling them between his fingers until you’re almost arching off the bed.

"Yes, Daddy, I liked that he could only watch," you say, and Joel feels heady with arousal. There we go, he thinks, cat’s outta the bag. He kneads your tits, eyes on your perfect body, cock straining against his jeans.

"You want Daddy to touch you anywhere he wants, and whoever’s watchin’ can’t?"

His words make you moan, and Joel is only a man, so he lets go of you, and unbuckles his belt.

"Asked you a question, kiddo," he drawls, shoving his jeans and underwear down only far enough for him to comfortably fuck you. He’s rock hard already, and pushes the tip against your entrance.

"Yes," you breathe, eyes wide and on him, and finally, he pushes into your willing body, all soft and open for him. You screw your eyes shut, the initial stretch of him always a lot to take, but he pushes on, knows you can take him.

"Daddy wants that, too," he groans, as you clench and flutter around him. "I’d fuck you so good, baby, make people see how bad you want this cock."

You don’t answer, eyes a little glassy, as he fucks in and out of you with deep strokes, all up in your guts. You move your hips in time with his, legs spread wide for him, and for a second he wonders how it’s possible you’re not pregnant yet. His thrusts deepen, the thought of fucking a baby into you turning him on even more.

You move your hand to rub at your clit, but Joel quickly grabs both of your wrists, holding them in one of his hands easily, and pinning them into the couch above your head.

"You come like this, baby, just on Daddy’s cock," he tells you, and although you whine, you don’t argue, just tug a little against his unmoving grip. His hips punch into yours, your eyes rolling upwards whenever he hits that special spot inside of you, and soon, you’re close again, clenching around him, and throwing your head from side to side in an attempt to stop yourself from coming without Joel’s permission again. It’s almost endearing, how much you want to please him.

"Please, Daddy, please let me come," you whine, and he could deny you, watch you squirm a little longer, but he’s not feeling mean today, so he pulls out almost all the way.

"Want you to come as soon as I push into you," he tells you, just to see if you can do it, and you nod frantically. So he moves, his length spearing you open once again, and as soon as the head of his cock nudges your spot, you’re whimpering and thrashing around, coming hard without him touching your little clit.

"Good girl, you take it so good," he groans, his voice a little broken.

It doesn’t take him long, although he knows you’d let him fuck him as long as he needs to, and soon he’s burying himself all the way inside of you, cock twitching and pumping you full of his cum. Your eyes are big and glued to his face, and when the last spurts are inside of you, he turns the two of you around so that you’re on top of him, his cock softening inside of you. You’re limp, satisfied and fucked out, eyes fluttering closed.

"I like that, Daddy," you mutter, and he strokes your back, fingers gentle and soft.

"Like what, angel?"

"When you touch me in front of people without asking."

His cock gives a weak twitch, and you smile.

"Can’t do it in front of people, baby, we’d make them uncomfortable, but I can stop askin’ if you’d like."

You move your hips unconsciously, and Joel stops you before you overstimulate his spent cock, but your reaction makes him chuckle.

"You’d like that? Want me to just slip right into you, whenever I want to?"

"Yes," you breathe, "please."

Always so polite, even when it’s just what Joel wants.

"Could do it while you’re sleepin’, baby, how’d you like that? Wouldn’t have to wake me up at night, I’d just fix that ache right when you start humpin’ my leg, hm?"

If possible, you grow wetter around him, and hide your face in his chest, once again embarrassed and turned on by his words. Joel chuckles, and ruffles your hair.

"I’d like that, Daddy," you mutter, and he presses a kiss to your head.

"Alright, baby, I’ll make sure to remember."

[jburrgf]

Champagne Coast, JOE BURROW.

“Finishing 8 or 9, tell me what’s the perfect time. I told you i’ll be waiting hiding from the rainfall.”

◦pairing: ¡long hair!joe x ¡college student!reader

◦summary: fwb, no attachment relationship, attachment problems, forbidden type of love. +18 readers only!

◦description: academic pleasure is your thing, and that means that you put nothing over your education. literally nothing. but when a long-haired football player that just got transferred from the north just pops in front of you, it’s too hard to say no to him.

◦n/a: i’m doing this for my latina girlies (like me! <3). she has curly hair and slightly tanned skin.

Mornings were always the hardest.

Not because I wasn’t a morning person—I was, to some extent—but because they reminded me of how much I had to do and how little time I had to waste.

My alarm went off at 6:30 a.m. sharp, vibrating against the nightstand with a persistence I could never ignore. I didn’t allow myself to hit snooze. I couldn’t afford to. Instead, I threw the covers off, stretched until my spine cracked, and made my way to the tiny bathroom in my apartment, eyes barely open as I turned on the sink.

The mirror reflected my exhaustion back at me. Dark circles had made a home under my eyes, the evidence of another night spent hunched over my laptop, working through notes, assignments, and emails.

I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and tied my hair back into a loose ponytail before heading to the kitchen. Breakfast was always a rushed affair—black coffee, a piece of toast if I wasn’t running late. Today, I had just enough time to spread some butter over it and let the warmth seep into my fingertips before taking a bite.

As I stood there, leaning against the counter, I flipped open my planner, its pages filled with neatly written notes, deadlines, and reminders. Between classes, assignments, and shifts at my internship, every minute of my day was accounted for.

But today felt different.

Excitement buzzed under my skin as my eyes skimmed over a note I had scribbled down the night before: New project meeting – 2 PM.

My internship had been one of the best things about this year. It was demanding, sure, but it gave me a sense of purpose. The chance to work on something real, something tangible. And today, I was finally getting assigned to a project I had been hoping for.

I double-checked the details, making a mental note to grab an extra coffee before the meeting. If I was going to impress them, I needed to be on my A-game.

After slipping into a pair of jeans and pulling on a navy-blue sweater, I slung my bag over my shoulder and stepped outside. The crisp morning air bit at my cheeks, the sky a soft, muted blue, but I barely had time to appreciate it. My days ran on a tight schedule, and I had no room to fall behind.

The walk to campus was second nature by now. I moved on autopilot, weaving through streets and past coffee shops, my earbuds in, music humming softly as I mentally prepared myself for the day ahead.

By the time I made it to the library, my coffee was already half gone, but the caffeine was finally kicking in. I settled into a seat by the window, pulling out my laptop and opening the file I had started last night. I had about an hour before my first class—plenty of time to go over my notes, make sure I hadn’t missed anything.

This was my routine.

And I liked it this way, but today, my friends had another plan. Rachel and Nathan have been keeping me busy about every single gossip on this campus, and the new one was The transferred quarterback from Ohio State. And of course, the whole campus needed to celebrate.

I wasn’t planning on going to the party that night. It was the kind of LSU house party that smelled like cheap beer and desperation, packed with sweaty, screaming students all trying to forget their midterms or bad decisions. But my roommate, Rachel, had another plan.

A few hours earlier, I had been sitting in my psychology class, half-listening as the professor droned on about the power of love in humanity. It was some philosophical tangent about how emotions, particularly love, played a crucial role in human development and scientific progress. I struggled not to roll my eyes. Love, to me, had always been a concept romanticized beyond its worth. Sure, it made for great literature, but I had never been convinced that it held any real power beyond that.

When class finally ended, I packed up my things and headed to the campus diner, where Rachel and a few other friends were already gathered in a booth, their laughter rising above the chatter of the busy place. Jess, my best guy friend Nate, and his roommate Lucas were already deep in conversation when I slid into the seat beside Rachel, who immediately pushed a menu toward me.

"Are you actually eating or just here to mope about your long, miserable week?" she teased.

"Neither," I replied, scanning the menu without interest. "I just need a drink."

"That’s the spirit!" Jess cheered, raising her iced coffee like it was something stronger.

"So, you’re coming to the party tonight?" Lucas asked, drumming his fingers against the table.

I sighed. "Yeah, but I’m not really in the mood for it. I just need to blow off some steam."

"That’s what parties are for," Rachel said. "Besides, have you heard about the new transfer? Joe Burrow?"

Jess wiggled her eyebrows. "Apparently, he’s not just good. He’s supposed to be the guy. Like, NFL material."

Nate scoffed, leaning back against the booth. "Everyone’s acting like he’s a god or something. He’s just another quarterback."

I shrugged, uninterested. "I’m sure he’s good at what he does, but that doesn’t mean he’s obnoxious."

Rachel smirked. "So, you’re saying he’s just a great professional player who happens to be really good?"

"Pretty much. I don’t get why everyone acts like he’s the second coming or something."

"Because he might actually be," Jess said with a dramatic sigh. "And you, my dear, are going to meet him tonight."

Nate chuckled. "Yeah, maybe you two can talk about quantum physics and see if he can keep up."

I rolled my eyes, but I knew there was no escaping it now. The party was happening, and whether I liked it or not, Joe Burrow was about to become part of my night.

[…]

I got to the party slightly late. My friends were already over there, bouncing over songs that we used to listen to together and talking louder above the speakers. To me, that was irritating. I love parties, but after a long week of work, the last thing I wanted to do is partying all night on a friday.

The music thumped through the walls, a steady, pulsing beat that rattled through my ribs as I wove through the crowd, my plastic cup clutched loosely in my fingers. I wasn’t even sure what was in it anymore—some neon-colored mix of whatever they had at the bar—but I had taken exactly two sips and decided I didn’t need more.

I was about to turn around when a voice cut through the noise.

“You’ve been standing there for a while.”

I looked up.

I turned, expecting one of my friends, but instead, I was met with someone unfamiliar. He was tall—really tall—with messy blond hair that fell over his forehead, and sharp features that the dim lighting only made more defined. His sweatshirt hung loose on his frame, sleeves pushed to his elbows like he had just come from somewhere else, and the cup in his hand was barely touched.

“I was just—” I hesitated, glancing at the dance floor. “People-watching.”

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Yeah? Anything interesting?”

“Not really,” I admitted. “Just the usual: drunk freshmen, a couple making out in the corner, a guy who’s definitely going to regret that keg stand tomorrow.”

"You don’t look like you’re having fun," he said, his voice cutting through the noise of the party.

I raised a brow. “And you’ve been watching me?”

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “I just noticed. Everyone else is either dancing, drinking, or trying to do both at the same time. You, though? You’re just… here.”

I huffed, half amused. “I guess I’m not very good at parties.”

He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Nothing wrong with that.”

I turned my head, surprised he was talking to me. "That’s because I’m not."

He smirked. "Then why are you here?"

"Peer pressure."

"Same."

I looked at him, doubtful. "I find that hard to believe. Isn’t this your crowd?"

He shook his head. "Not really. I’m still figuring out who my crowd is here."

I hummed in response, not sure I believed him. He was too comfortable, too effortless in the way he carried himself.

"What’s your major?" he asked.

"Psychology," I replied. "And you?"

"Consumer and family financial services.”

I raised a brow. "That’s oddly specific."

He chuckled. "Yeah. I like numbers."

"So, you’re actually smart?" The words slipped out before I could stop them.

“But I’m here cause of football.”

I raised a brow. “Of course, you do.”

He chuckled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I shrugged. “You have that whole… football player look.”

He looked vaguely amused. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily.” I took a sip of my drink. “I just feel like I already know your whole deal.”

Joe leaned in slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Yeah? And what’s my deal?”

I pretended to think. “Cocky, thinks he’s smarter than he is, probably way too competitive.”

“You don’t know me at all. He laughed, a deep, genuine sound that made something flicker in my chest. He stepped closer, but at a safe distance "I like to think I'm smart. Want to test me?"

I leaned against the counter, intrigued. "Alright, what’s the capital of Lithuania?"

"Vilnius."

I blinked, impressed but unwilling to show it. "Okay, what’s the powerhouse of the cell?"

"Mitochondria. Come on, give me a hard one."

I bit my lip, thinking. "Fine. Who wrote ‘Pride and Prejudice’?"

He didn’t even hesitate. "Jane Austen."

My mouth parted slightly. "Huh."

He grinned. "Not what you expected?"

"Not even close."

He tilted his head, studying me. His blue eyes went all over me, starting at my face and getting down all over my body. "What about me gave you the impression I wasn’t smart?"

I hesitated, but he was looking at me with genuine curiosity. "The hoodie, the wristbands, the fact that this house is a frat-football house. And, no offense, but most guys like you care more about throwing balls than reading books."

He let out a breathy laugh. "Fair enough. But I promise you, I’m more than that."

I found myself wanting to believe him.

“Oh, I bet.”

The night stretched on, and we kept talking. The party faded into the background. He told me about growing up in Ohio, about transferring to LSU for a fresh start. I told him about my dream of being a psychologist, working with kids was my whole goal.

At some point, we ended up outside on the porch, sitting on the steps as the humid Louisiana night wrapped around us. I hadn’t realized how much time had passed until my phone buzzed with a text from Rachel: "Where r u???"

I looked at him, his hair messy from the night, his blue eyes watching me like I was the most interesting thing in the world.

"I should go," I said reluctantly.

He nodded, but there was something in his expression that made my pulse skip. "I’ll see you around?

I hesitated, then smiled. "Yeah. See you around."

As I walked away, I felt his gaze linger. And for the first time in a long time, I wondered if maybe, just maybe, I had been wrong about people like him.

[…]

The city buzzed with the hum of conversation and the scent of freshly brewed coffee as we walked the familiar route to our usual spot. The sun had begun its slow descent, painting the sky in warm hues of orange and pink. It was the kind of late afternoon that felt like a soft exhale after a long day, the air thick with the scent of summer and distant laughter from students scattered across the campus.

Rachel, Jess, Nate, Lucas, and I had just wrapped up another draining day—classes, internships, and the slow crawl toward graduation looming over us like a deadline we weren’t ready to meet.

"I swear, if I have to listen to one more professor drone on about case studies, I might actually drop out," Rachel groaned as she linked her arm with Jess’s.

"You say that every semester," Nate teased, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

"And yet, here I am. A survivor," Rachel shot back, flipping her hair dramatically.

I trailed slightly behind, exhaustion weighing on my shoulders. My internship at the counseling center had been particularly draining today. A few tough sessions had left me with more questions than answers, the complexities of the human mind unraveling in ways I hadn't yet learned how to piece back together.

"I don't know how you do it, Y/N," Lucas said, as if reading my mind. "Listening to people’s problems all day would drive me insane."

I smirked. "That’s kind of the point. Psychology is about understanding people, not just fixing them."

"Yeah, yeah," he waved. "Just remind me never to tell you my problems."

We finally reached the café, a cozy little corner of campus life where we had spent countless hours avoiding responsibilities. The scent of espresso and fresh pastries welcomed us as we pushed through the doors, greeted by the comforting hum of low conversation and the occasional clatter of dishes.

Sliding into our usual booth by the window, we settled in, each of us instinctively knowing our roles in the ordering process. Rachel and Jess debated over which overpriced latte to get, while Nate and Lucas argued about football stats neither of them would remember in an hour. I, meanwhile, busied myself scrolling through my phone, half-listening to their conversation.

That’s when the notification popped up.

A follow request.

Joe Burrow.

I frowned slightly, the name unfamiliar for only a second before my memory caught up. Joe Burrow, the new player. Why was he texting me like that?

And then, a message.

“Finally found you. Do you know how hard it was to track you down?"

I blinked, confused.

Then another message appeared.

"It’s Joe—the guy you thought was dumb. We met at the party last Saturday."

The guy I met at the party.

Joe Burrow, the quarterback.

The transferred dude and the new quarterback were the same person.

My stomach did a weird little flip. I had spent the entire night talking to him, intrigued by the way he had effortlessly thrown back every challenge I gave him. I had walked away thinking I’d never see him again.

And yet, here he was.

I stared at the screen, my mind racing with possibilities.

"Earth to Y/N?" Jess’s voice broke through my thoughts.

I looked up, realizing they were all staring at me.

"Who’s got you looking like you just saw a ghost?" Rachel asked, sipping her drink.

I hesitated, my fingers hovering over my phone.

"No one," I said, too quickly.

But the smirk on Rachel’s face told me she wasn’t buying it.

And truthfully? Neither was I.

I stared at my screen, my heart pounding for reasons I couldn’t explain.

And he texted me again.

"So, did I pass your intelligence test?"

[idanceuntilidie]

Hii! Can i request yan cheater with male reader? I really like your writing, and I also love you sm! Have a nice day 💗💗💗💗

Thank you so much I'm gonna cry, I love you too!! Sorry if this is wonky, today was a very exhausting day for me mentally. I hope you enjoy anyway <3 come again :D i made the cheater male I hope you don't mind--

Yandere Cheater x M!Reader

Requests are open

TW: yandere behaviours, breaking and enetering, slightly digusting parts including human hair and organs.

Ciaran was quite special. Very handsome, always surrounded by people. You aren’t sure if being with him was a blessing or a curse.

He swore he was yours only, but you can’t help but feel hurt when he is flirting with someone right in front of you. There are also times where his phone blows with notifications from different people. It hurt, your heart felt like it was shattering just to be put back and destroyed again.

But the last straw was when you got a message from one of his lovers, they got a moment ofweakness, they felt bad and spilled everything out in a long message. The cherry on top were screenshots and photos of them kissing each other.

You were sure this time your heart just ceases to exist. You cried a lot that day, not ready to face Ciaran. You packed his things and left them outside of the door.

It baffled him how you would leave him just like that, it was just a small misunderstanding. It was, he thinks, just one time thing. You got just oh so boring he couldn’t take it anymore. He still loves you! He really does.

He missed your smile, your smell, how beautiful you looked in the rising sun when you just woke up. His heart squeezes in his chest. Another night spent waiting by your door, you won’t let him in of course, but he just likes to sit there, happily humming when he sees you through your windows. It became a routine, you never called the cops on him, which means you still must like him. Hope burned in his chest, and slowly the obsession for you began.

And he will get his little boyfriend back. You don’t feel safe in your house anymore, Ciarian gave up on sitting outside of your house yes, but now you can’t stop receiving messages and calls from random numbers.

Sometimes the caller breathes, silently stuttering your name, sometimes even moaning. Calling you his little pretty boy and shit. It made your stomach twist. You called the police many times, but at this point they just don’t believe you because of your lack of evidence. Lazy bastards. You also began receiving gifts, your favorite food, drinks, clothes that fit you perfectly. There was well, one time where your friend was over and one of these gifts appeared, with a card attached to it. A box of chocolates.

You were very tired that day, barely keeping yourself awake, you told your friend to take it. They accepted gladly, and began to eat while you went to the kitchen to make some coffee for you and them, that's when you heard a shriek and gagging sounds. You ran to your friend and saw them pulling hair out of their mouth, there was some skin attached to it. Your friend threw up soon after.

So, after that incident their gifts landed in trash. You feared what you might find out in them next. You don’t feel safe here, but you don’t have enough money to move. So like a rational person, you took another shift. The less you are home the better. It turns out you were wrong.

You came back in the middle of the night, you were practically falling asleep while standing up. You took off your shoes and headed to the kitchen for a sip of water so you can head to bed. When you turned on the light you froze in place. A beautifully wrapped heart shaped box sat on the counter waiting. You swallowed, body moving on your own. The gifts never appeared inside of your house. Hell, they are getting bolder with each gift. As you got closer to the box, a foul smell filled your senses. It was sweet, a little fruity.  Your shaking hands hovered over the opening of the box, carefully lifting up the lid.

Your scream echoed through the house, as you fell down to the floor. Inside of the box was a human heart, carefully placed and surrounded by your favourite flowers.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, and a warm breath on your cheek.

Ciaran.

Your breath hitched, you didn’t dare to move as his bloody hands wrapped around your shaking form.

“Did you like my gift? Only the best for my boyfriend, do you forgive me now? Look how much I have done for you.” He kissed your cheek.

“I forgive you for kicking me out, I’m a better man after all of this has ended you know? Now we can be together forever.”

[softpascalito]

Comfort I Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: It is summer in Austin and you long for an uneventful day with Joel. Your diabetes has other plans.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Non-Explicit / MDNI Word count: 2.6k Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort , Fluff, Diabetes, Health Issues, Diabetic Reader, (reader wears a dexcom and uses insulin pens), Guilt, Soft Joel Miller, Hypoglycemia, Forehead Kisses, Comfort

AO3 LINK // Masterlist

notes: a huge, huge thank you to the wonderful @Rainybee17 for allowing me to learn more about diabetes and patiently answering all my questions. i have tried my best to make this oneshot a good representation and even though everyone's experience is different, i hope that someone can find themselves between these lines. smooches and happy sunday! ♡

this fic is not medical advice. if you or someone else is struggling with diabetes or if you'd like to learn more please visit the international diabetes federation or speak to your doctor.

Comfort

True to the weather forecast that you watched on TV with Joel last night, the temperatures in Austin have shot up overnight. The sun has barely risen, only a few thin streaks of light falling through the blinds that cover the window of your bedroom. Which is Joel's bedroom, really. But during the summer, it has evolved into something that feels more like yours rather than his.

You blink groggily, feeling the mattress dip beside you as Joel reaches over to shut his alarm clock off, the beeping noise that woke you dying down the moment his hand touches the button. A small noise leaves your throat in protest, your left leg still tangled between his and Joel turns back to face you. “Not today, darlin’. I gotta start goin’.”

Some days, your pouting works, keeping him in bed for a few minutes longer. But he takes his jobs seriously and you don’t blame him for wanting the heavy lifting done before the temperatures peak around lunchtime.

Joel’s beard scratches against your skin as he leans over to press a kiss to your face before he begins to carefully disentangle himself from you. His arm slides out from below you, his embrace that you were so peacefully resting in until a moment ago gone. He makes sure not to brush over the dexcom that is currently attached to your upper left arm, the white device peeking out from below the sheets. You can see him pause at the sight, his gears already turning. “Why don’t you get up too? Think I’ve got enough time to have a coffee.”

“Fine,” you groan, only reluctantly agreeing to his peace offer. It's not as good as staying in bed with him but you can always take a nap later and enjoy his presence while you have it. You peel the sheets off your body, padding over to the bathroom while you listen to Joel pull on jeans and a shirt that already has so many holes in it you don't bother to count them anymore.

You’ve settled into a comfortable routine during the summer months, even with him leaving early and coming home late. With Sarah at football camp, you have the house all to yourself, a luxury you enjoy more than you’d like to admit. You’ve spent countless days lounging in the backyard or swimming a few laps around the pool, occasionally preparing a fancy dinner for Joel or making yourself useful in any other way. He drinks coffee by his kitchen window every morning, unless he’s running late. Today, you join him, hopping up onto the counter as the sun steadily rises and the first cars are started up outside, bringing people to work.

You remind him to give you a kiss every day, despite knowing that he’d never forget. No matter if you’re in the kitchen with him or still in bed or already nose-deep in a book. Without fail, Joel Miller finds you before he leaves.

“We’re finally getting that delivery today,” Joel hums, swirling the last sips of his coffee around in his mug. “If the load ‘s good, I could get off early.”

“That would be nice,” you agree softly, rubbing the last bit of sleep out of the corners of your eyes. “Think I’ll take a dip in the pool later.”

“Then I better be home to see that,” Joel teases as he turns his back to you, washing his mug out in the sink. Then, he leans over to kiss you again and it only makes you long for him more. You’re certain he feels the same.

“You check your levels?” He hums into your neck and oh, he’s gotten smart, asking when he knows you won’t push him away.

“All good,” you reassure him. Some days, you think he is more occupied with your condition than you are, fussing over you and reminding you to track your sugar and insulin constantly. It’s gotten annoying occasionally, but you know he only does it because he cares. And if you’re being honest with yourself, that is a big part of why he has become your favorite person rather quickly.

You watch as Joel grabs his tool belt and heads out the door, giving you one little last wave. Then, you listen to the truck start up outside and the sound of the engine that slowly fades away into the distance.

“Fine,” you mutter to yourself, jumping off the kitchen counter to reach for your phone. You prefer tracking with the dexcom sensor, the device making it so easy to check your levels at all times. Today, you’re in the clear. The number inside the small circle in the app reads 110.

The blue insulin pen is waiting for you beside the fridge, placed on a small wooden tray that conveniently showed up there the first time you slept over. It holds a few small juice boxes, glucose tablets and your trusted pen.

You stare at it for a few moments, weighing it in your hands as you calculate how much you’ll need for your breakfast. Then, with practiced ease, you poke yourself with the needle, allowing the chosen amount of liquid to flow into your body.

“Ten minute warning…” You hum, putting the pen back into its place and reaching for the kitchen shelf instead. You’ve gotten much better at timing your breakfast properly, making sure that the insulin doesn’t act too fast nor too slow.

Once you’re done eating, you check the number again. 160. All fine, just like you promised Joel. Good.

It’s still early but you don’t feel like going back to bed. Thursday means the farmer’s market is happening at the local community center and for once you may be early enough to have the first pick. The fresh fruits and vegetables have a tendency to bring mouth-watering recipe ideas for dinner to your mind so you lock the front door behind you and head out.

Indeed, the stands are not yet picked over and you take your time, enjoying the nice weather and chatting with a few familiar faces. The short trip turns into a few hours and it’s only when the heat starts to press down on you below the plastic tents that you make your way back. The groceries are unloaded rather quickly and you fetch your current read, a book about a spontaneous summer love in Italy, from upstairs.

It’s been exactly the kind of uneventful day you enjoy in the summer, the one that leaves you feeling warm and tanned and thankful for pools and cool drinks. The way it should be. You have no idea that this is about to change.

The deck at the back of the Miller’s house is shaded so that you don’t feel like you’ll immediately burn up in the sun. A soft groan of relief escapes you as you stretch out on the lounge chair, opening your book to where you left off. You read about cicadas and pine trees and steady waves rolling ashore and slowly but surely, your eyes begin to droop.

***

Something is wrong. The sun is much lower than it was a few minutes ago. The front door opens and closes. Joel can’t be back yet. It’s still lunchtime.

For a moment, you think you are just too sleepy, that you are still in some kind of dream. Then, you think you’ve spent too much time in the sun. It takes a few seconds for you to realize that the way you’re feeling, a bit hazy, a bit like you’re floating– it’s low sugar.

You blindly reach to your right, onto the wooden table beside you but your phone isn’t in reach. When you turn your head, you realize why. You never brought it outside. It’s still on the kitchen counter, where you left it after unloading the groceries.

Slowly, you stand, looking down to see that your legs are trembling slightly. You force them to take one step after another, coaxing your body in an attempt to stay upright. You can already hear the soft beeping noise from inside the house that alerts you to a number outside the safe range. You push past the screen door– but before you can reach the kitchen, and with it your phone, Joel reaches you.

His eyes are wide, the panic clear on his face as he holds your phone in his right hand, the alert on the display blinking in a steady rhythm, displaying a too low 63. “Did you eat?” He presses out, his free hand coming up to rest on your shoulder, steadying you. The worry in his voice is palpable and you shake your head at his question.

“Okay, okay–” The gears are turning in his head and you’re not sure if he’s talking to you or himself. “Okay. We need– Do you need me to get the emergency pen?”

“No,” you quickly decline. “No, it’s okay, it’s not that bad.”

You can see him weighing his options, his eyes raking over your face and your body for a moment, no doubt trying to assess your state. You know you’re shaking and that your face likely looks drained, a thin sheen of sweat covering it. His gaze turns to the kitchen next and you can see him fight with himself. Ultimately, Joel steps forward, wrapping an arm around you and leading you into the living room, his grasp not leaving you until you’re securely seated on the couch. “Can’t have you passing out now. Don’t try and stand, alright? Just … sit tight.”

He puts your phone down and rushes to the kitchen, leaving you alone with the low number on the display that almost seems to laugh at you. What were you thinking, dozing off like that?

Joel is back after mere seconds, holding up a juice box in one hand and the package of glucose tablets in the other, silently letting you choose. You point at the juice and he nods, kneeling in front of you and sticking the thin plastic straw into the pre-punched hole. “One apple juice, coming right up.” You can tell he’s trying to lighten the mood but you can’t bring yourself to give him more than a weak smile in return.

He nudges the box into your hands and then sits patiently as you begin to drink, one of his hands coming to rest on your thigh, his thumb drawing lazy circles into your skin. “15 – 15 rule, right?” Joel asks and at the look of surprise on your face, he adds; “15 grams of carbs, wait for 15 minutes. Then see if it helped?”

“Yeah,” you agree in between small sips. “Yeah, how do you know about 15 – 15?” You watch as a faint blush spreads over his cheeks but he shakes his head, dismissing the question.

“Just do. It doesn’t matter.” His motions on your leg pause as you finish your juice, allowing him to take the empty carton from you and place it on the floor behind him. “You feelin’ any better, darlin’?” You can tell by his voice that he is still anxious, his entire attention zoned in on you. You lean back into the cushions, taking a deep breath, slowly calming down. You’ve been there before, you’ve gone into low numbers. But it never gets less scary.

“It’s fine,” you reassure him because you can still feel his gaze on you. “Not like this hasn’t happened before.” The dry comment is aimed to brush him off but it seems to do the opposite.

“No. I mean, yes, but it shouldn't be happening at all,” Joel shakes his head and ow. You know you messed up but hearing it from him stings more than you thought it would.

“You try tracking every meal every day and living with this– this–” You can feel you working yourself up, anger bubbling inside you, anger more than happy to find an outlet. But then your eyes fall onto Joel's face. And you see the moment his eyes widen in sheer panic.

“No, no, god no, that is not what I meant–” He stumbles over his words in an attempt to get them out. “I wasn't blaming you, I was saying that– that it's not fair. I just hate to see you suffer, that's all.” His brown eyes remind you so much of a kicked puppy that you almost want to cry.

A soft hoot from your phone makes you both turn your heads, the number 107 popping up. Back in range. Joel sighs in relief.

“Good. This is good.” He stretches slightly, one hand pressed against his lower back. “You want a nap?”

“Just had one,” you say quietly, avoiding his eyes.

“Right,” he hums, pinching the bridge of his nose for a few moments and you know he’s thinking again, trying to figure out what to do with you. Because of course you have to make a lovely summer’s day so difficult.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, trying and failing to keep the tears at bay. “I didn’t mean to ruin your evening, I know you had work–”

He cuts you off by squeezing your thigh once, shaking his head as he maneuvers himself onto the couch beside you. “Look at me, baby,” he coaxes you to shift towards him, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I never ever want to hear you apologizing for this again. It ain’t your fault, darlin’. Never was and never will be. And I’ve told you before, we’re in this together. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

A single tear rolls down your cheek and he catches it with his thumb, tutting quietly. His arms find their way around you and he pulls you into his chest, burying his nose in your hair, whispering sweet nothings into the otherwise silent room.

“How ‘bout we watch one of them movies you like so much?” Joel offers when he pulls back after a few minutes, his hand still intertwined with yours. You have movie night more often than not, but usually, he doesn’t let you pick. Nor you him. It's a middle ground, one that is found after quite a bit of discussion.

“You hate them,” you argue weakly, a small laughter slipping out. You’ve tried introducing Joel to Rom-Coms, the classics, the modern ones, those that he may not at first glance recognize as such. But so far, you haven’t hit his taste.

“Not today,” he hums with a small smile. “Today I promise I’ll love them.” You both chuckle quietly and he does let you pick, not once complaining as he kneels in front of the TV to start the movie. He keeps a watchful eye on you throughout the next roughly 90 minutes, getting you a glass of water and another snack when you need it, his arm comfortably wrapped around your shoulder like he’s not quite willing to let go.

“How did you know?” You ask into the near-silence when the credits are flickering over the screen, some love song quietly playing over them. “About the rule I mean.”

“Uh, let’s see–” Joel makes a face. “Might’ve read a book or two.”

You squeeze him a bit tighter at that. Because you know that people who see Joel in his truck or at the construction site may think he’s gruff and cold. You had similar worries when your eyes first landed on him. But you know how much he cares. About Sarah and about you, about being there in whatever way he can. No matter if it’s stocking up on juice or kissing you every morning or secretly reading books so he can understand you better. He’s here for it all. And so are you. Together.

Notes: thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please feel free to leave a comment or a follow ♡

[itzy-bitsy-spidey]

"Memories and lights (pt.9)"

or "Something made a hole in my backyard (pt.9)"

Shadow The Hedgehog x Reader (platonic)

Notes: Is it really a surprise it took me this long to upload? I hope you people are still interested on this story... Anyways, if college and living on my own haven´t killed me yet I should upload a new chapter soon enough (You can hold me acountable this time)

Part 8

It was a sunny morning. Which was remarkable since the days before had been nothing short of cloudy. It was late when Shadow woke up, twelve p.m, usually you always got him up by ten thirty at most, something about having a conscious sleep schedule or something.

Not that it mattered to him, he was still the ultimate life form, a little sleep deprievement was nothing that would kill him. He had told you so before, and you had answered something among the lines of "We don't sleep so we don't die, we sleep so that the time we spend alive can be well spent". It was a weird take, Shadow was used to life being about what he could endure, not about what he could take pleasure in.

In that sense you had already made your way into his life and destroyed everything he thought to be true. He had not been created to enjoy life the way you said that it should be enjoyed, he was an unstoppable force of nature, a natural disaster which could cause catastrophic events capable of destroying the planet you were living in. Yet you would sit by him as he munched on coffee ground beans as you drank your own (No solid coffee was allowed on your cup), you would tend to watch telenovelas with him and laugh every time he would tell the lead female to runaway from the love interests.

He remembered specifically a night a few days ago, you had been horribly stressed and as a result had a migraine. You couldn´t get up to cook dinner and neither could you stand looking at your phone screen, so you had asked Shadow if by any chance he could help you order food.

So you had both sat there (more like you had lied down on your bed and he sat by your legs) trying to teach the alien hedgehog how to order food online. If you didn´t have Shadow´s respect before that night you certainly earned it as you explained to him in detail what he was supposed to do even when your head ache was killing you.

The relief Shadow had felt the next morning when he had found you up and ok had no words to be described, though he wouldn´t fully accept it himself. Because feeling relief meant he was getting attached, and in truth, he did not care about you, he couldn´t care. If caring meant accepting someone else in his life then he couldn´t do it, because that would mean Maria would be left behind in his memories.

And if being loved by Maria had been the best thing in his life leaving that behind would mean he could never be that great again.

Not somebody worth her love at the very least.

Shadow shakes his head, letting all those thoughts fall to the back of his mind, his main concern at the moment a very different one.

You usually woke him up at ten thirty, but not today, today he woke up on his own, why? And why was the house so silent?

Maybe you had left to buy groceries. Or something like that, he wasn´t really aware of what it was you did when you left the house, but surely that was were you had gone off to. And so it would be stupid to wait around waiting for you.

Instead he started folding his blankets so that the couch could be a couch during the day. He also remembered you saying something about that, calling the piece of furniture a bat-couch, or something like that, because he would sleep on it during the night. He had only answered you that sleeping during the day seemed like a non productive choice.

Gathering all the blankets and pillows he made his way to your room to put them away.

Your bed wasn´t made.

It was the first thing you did every morning, so that you wouldn´t just go back into it after taking your coffe. Your window was open as well, and even though you did open it to let fresh air in, you usually made sure to tie the curtains so that they wouldn´t fly out with the wind and get dirty. Except the curtains were not tied.

Leaving everything onto your messy bed he sped to the kitchen.

Everything was in place, every piece of cutlery you had washed the day prior had been put away, and so the countertop was dirt-free.

There was not even your favourite mug that you drank your coffee in.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

Your head was killing you, like really fucking killing you. Your eyes were hazy and you couldn´t quite pinpoint were you were.

If there was one thing you were absolutely certain of was the fact that you were no longer on your bedroom. The place seemed to be lit up with neon lights, but your blurry eyesight couldn´t help you discern much else. The atmosphere felt heavy, kind of like when you are in a small space and you breathe all the oxygen and are left only with your breath.

It was definitely a menacing enviroment. But as you passed away once more you couldn´t help but think of the lights.

They were such a pretty purple color.

Taglist:@boogiemansbitch@vxllys@whoisgami@baby-bloos@sapphireravensworld@mothmanperson@4rm-the-mf-concrete@eliknowsnothing@pooplyface1423@kyouzki@moon-trash1507@shadowforlive

[cherriegyuu]

crossing the line | two | kmg

pairing: mingyu x fem!reader genre: smut, angst, fluff (ish) word count: 3.7k warnings: smut (18+), minors do not interact, oral (male receiving) kissing, swearing part one

this is part of my series, seventeen as songs from lover (ts)

Mingyu ➝ Paper RingsI hate accidents, except when we went from friends to this↳ Mingyu had always been your best friend and that line had never been crossed before, then, one day, you woke up naked ion his bed with a vivid memory of the previous night.

Ever since he was a kid, Mingyu had this sort of life motto: regret nothing and own up to the consequences of your actions. And for twenty-six entire years, he managed to do just that. Of course, there were things he wished he could have done differently. However, once something is done there is no going back. He could apologize for it, had it been a mistake, or he could just move on.  And although he didn’t regret a single moment of the night he spent with you, the owning-up part was a little trickier than he had expected.  

Mingyu was sure that your reaction would be bad, he knew that you’d get scared. But he thought that you would stay back so the two of you could talk. Or, at the very least, follow through with what you had said to him. Tomorrow morning, we go back to what we are, was what you said. But when morning came and Mingyu finally woke up, you were no longer in his bed. The only thing left of you was your perfume on his pillow.  

He figured that he should give you time. You got scared and that was normal. He had known you for four years and he knew that you weren’t the kind of person who enjoyed changes. You loved your routines and being inside your bubble. It was a surprise that you had let him get close to you at all, even more so when both of you grew attached to the other.  

Chan said that it was weird but he and Soonyoung were happy that you were finally allowing yourself to just be freer.  

Mingyu wanted to be that person for you but was it so bad that he also wanted to be more than? 

Truth be told, Mingyu had been interested in you since the moment you met. You, on the other hand, didn’t seem at all interested in him so he didn’t press you. When you opened up to him and allowed him to get closer to you, he was dating someone else.  

It was around the same time he started to let himself be touchy with you, like he always was with all his friends, that he noticed that the way he first felt about you didn’t change or disappear.   

He had been idiot enough to stay with his girlfriend, thinking that maybe he was reading too much into what you were doing. Then his girlfriend started to get uncomfortable, the fights started and they just broke up. 

Though he didn’t feel nearly as heartbroken as he made it seem, Mingyu let you nurse him through his breakup. You’d sit with him for hours, his head on your lap while you played with his hair. 

“I think you’d look great with long hair,” you said randomly one day. 

“Why?” he looked away from the tv, eyes focused solely on you.

“You’re disgustingly handsome. I think you should try”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Mingyu started to let his hair grow and he was too lazy to get a proper cut so you were the one cutting his hair for him. I don’t want to hear a single complaint about this, you told him while he sat in the middle of your bathroom. 

It was physically painful for him to hold back from touching you. Mingyu was well aware that if you got scared you’d just run away from him and there was a high chance of him never seeing you again. And that wasn’t something he wanted. 

Desperate moments call for desperate measures. He needed, God help him, Soonyoung’s help.

“So, how long will you keep avoiding Mingyu?” Soonyoung asked when you set his coffee in front of him. 

Your lifelong friend had asked to meet you once your shift was over, and you agreed. Much to your surprise, he had gotten there an hour early and was now just bothering you.

"Shut up and drink your coffee"

"Come on, there's no one here. Sit down and talk to me"

The problem with working at a café that had a homely feel was that your friends, honestly just Soonyoung, thought that they could just pretend that it was your own home. 

"I'm working"

He rolled his eyes at you.

"At your brother's café," he tugged at your shirt "Sit down, humor me for a second"

With a sigh, you dropped your body on the couch next to his. 

"He asks about you every single day, you know? He said you guys fought, so he's giving you time. But I don't think he will be able to hold himself back for much longer"

You pinched your nose, your heart suddenly aching at his works. 

Truth was, you missed Mingyu. Desperately. You regretted leaving his side the moment you closed his apartment door but you also couldn't bring yourself to go back.

You figured that you should give yourself a little time to understand what happened and maybe get it sorted out in your mind. But you couldn't stop thinking about him, about the way he kissed you — so tenderly, with so much care, as if you were something precious that he would never give himself the luxury of breaking. 

His touch was engraved in your body, just thinking about it made your skin electric. Mingyu was the first thing you thought about in the mornings, the last thing on your mind before you drifted off to sleep. He found ways to sneak up on you when you least expected it.

He texted you every day like he normally did, but you left all of his messages on read. You had been obsessed with your notification bar for the past three of weeks.

Though your actions said otherwise, you were scared of facing Mingyu, terrified that things between the two of you would change. 

"Tell me what happened" Soonyoung nudged you with his knee "Maybe I can help.  You know I always have killer advices"

There was no way you'd tell Soonyoung you slept with Mingyu.

"We just fought, it was stupid" you shook your head.

You watched in complete distress as the two working wheels inside his brain moved. Soonyoung went from furrowed eyebrows that said this fucking dumb girl to wide eyes.

"You guys fucked!"

You pressed your hands to Soonyoung's mouth, looking over your shoulder to make sure that your brother was still in the kitchen. Soonyoung kept his eyes wide open, his words muffled by your hands.

"Shut up!" 

He managed to push your hands away, looking over your shoulder before leaning on the table with his forearms, his voice barely a whisper.

"You're an adult, I'm pretty sure your brother knows you have sex from time to time"

"He doesn't need to know with whom" you pushed his head back. 

"Well, at least you're not denying it"

It would have been stupid to deny it when you felt as if you were walking around with a sign that said I slept with my best friend hanging over your head.

"Listen, I'll be as honest about this as I possibly can. You guys like each other, and have for a very long time. I mean everyone thinks you're dating" when you started to shake your head, Soonyoung rolled his eyes "I can count the amount of times I've hugged you in the past ten years. Twenty, if you're wondering. One for my birthday and one for yours, which I always have to force you to do"

"yn, you're not someone who's very into physical touch, which is fine. But with Mingyu? You guys touch each other the whole time, anywhere. The only time you guys weren't all over each other was when he was in a serious relationship, which mind you, you cried over"

Soonyoung was a fantastic friend, always. Despite his loud personality, at least around your group, he gave advice quietly. He never made a big deal of situations, he never went around screaming your secrets away. But in that moment you hated how much he was able to read you, like the only thing hiding your feelings was a thin glass wall.

"I didn’t cry" you sighed, dropping your head to the table.

"Sweetheart, you sobbed. I had no idea what I was supposed to do with you"

Soonyoung had laughter in his eyes, and at that moment he reminded you so much of the boy you met in high school. He had changed so much, from the way he dressed to the way he behaved. But still, somewhere inside, he was the same kid from ten years before.

"What are you afraid of?"

Of a life without Mingyu, was the only answer you had. 

You met Mingyu for the first time at twenty-two, fresh out of college, scared of life. You hated your major, marketing, and hated your job too. Mingyu had been a breath of fresh air, with wide eyes and a beautiful smile. 

It was always hard for you to let people close. You were just too shy and introverted but ever since Chan introduced you to Mingyu, you enjoyed his presence. He was always too much. Too tall, too large, too loud, talked too fast. But whenever he spoke to you, his voice was a little quieter, softer somehow.

Mingyu was larger than life itself and you were afraid you were too little compared to him. 

He was out there with his fancy corporate job, a financial manager, while you worked at your brother's café. It was what you wanted, yes, your shit degree had some use and you got to test out recipes with your brother. It was a much simpler life than the one Mingyu wanted.

"We're too different" you whispered, blinking away your tears.

You wanted Mingyu, not just like your best friend but in all ways one can have someone. You wanted to be able to kiss him whenever and do all the romantic shit you had seen people around you do.

"You're not and even if you were, what's so wrong about that? Don't people say that opposites attract?" he patted your hand "Won't you rather regret a decision than spend your life wishing you could have done something different?"

Soonyoung's Words still echoed through Mingyu's mind hours after they spoke on the phone. 

yn thinks she's not enough for you.

He didn't know what he was supposed to do with that information. How he was supposed to convince you that you were more than enough? Not just that, that you were the only one he wanted.

As soon as he ended the call with Soonyoung, Mingyu had gotten up from his desk, ready to call it a day and go after you. Everything else could wait. There was nothing more important than you to him. 

It didn't seem to matter to his boss though, as he not only made Mingyu stay but also work over hours. Managers make their own schedule, my ass. It was already past midnight when he got inside his car. 

It was too late to go to your place and try to talk with you.  It was almost the middle of the night and Mingyu wanted to have a clear head to speak with you. He needed to be the most eloquent version of himself so that he could lay out in front of you, all of his cards, and hopefully maybe have you back in his life. Even if you were to remain just friends. 

So he dragged himself home, feeling defeated once again. Three weeks of no contact with you had been pure torture. His messages were read the night before, which gave him a little bit of hope, but still, he didn't get an answer. His phone calls were obviously screened. 

"Fuck" he cursed turning the lights in his living room on.

Mingyu rubbed his eyes to make sure that he wasn't imagining things. Because there you were, sleeping on his couch

In complete silence, or at least trying to be as quiet as possible, Mingyu took off his shoes and locked the door behind him. He never took his eyes off of you, scared that maybe if he looked away or even blinked you'd disappear.

He kneeled on the floor by your side, his hand immediately going to your face. 

Ever since you met Mingyu, four days was the longest period of time you went without seeing each other. Six hours was the longest you went without talking. Needless to say, those three weeks had been hell, both for you and him. 

You had been stubborn and Mingyu was determined to give you space. It was a lose-lose situation. 

“yn” he whispered your name.

Slowly you opened your eyes. And god, how much had he missed those eyes. Mingyu found out, very early on, that your eyes held all of your truths. You went about your life thinking that no one had a single clue of what was going on through your mind — and for the most part, you managed to succeed. But there were moments when you allowed him to see all there was to you. 

And maybe that wasn’t your intention but your eyes gave away your truth. You missed Mingyu, desperately so, just as much as he missed you.

“Sorry I fell asleep,” you said pushing back a yawn.

Mingyu smiled at you, his hand on your head, lightly massaging your scalp.

“It’s okay, it’s really late”

You nodded, eyes closing again.

“Can you lay with me?”

You tugged a little on the sleeve of his shirt.

“Yeah, give me just a minute”

Mingyu leaned down and kissed your hair quickly before standing up. He got out of his working clothes and grabbed whichever comfortable ones were closer to him. With a blanket in his hand, he went back into the living room. 

You scooted back onto the couch, your back pressed against the couch, giving Mingyu enough space to crawl in by your side. 

As soon as you felt Mingyu’s body next to yours, you wrapped your arm around his waist, getting as close to him as you possibly could. 

With a content sigh, Mingyu nested your head against his neck, his lips never leaving your forehead. 

It didn’t take long for him do fall asleep too.

You were the kind of person who didn’t like sleeping in places that weren’t your bed, your home. In fact, you had a really hard time sleeping in unknown places. And yet, wrapped in the warmth of Mingyu, you felt as if you had slept for the first time in weeks. 

You missed Mingyu like crazy and craved his touch each waking minute of the day. 

You tilted your head back a little, to look at him. How you managed to go three weeks without him was unknown to you. But now that you were in his arms again, you would never let him go again. 

Even if that night had changed everything or nothing at all, you decided that you wanted Mingyu in your life in whichever way he was willing to be. 

Talking with Soonyoung had helped, more than you could have imagined. He walked you home that night, going over with you through everything that you felt, and why you decided to bolt in the morning. His answer was for really smart people, both of you are dumb as fuck.

During the entire day, you built up the courage to go to Mingyu and try and see if there was anything salvageable about your friendship. 

Mingyu stirred awake, his arms tightening around you, causing a small laugh to escape your lips. 

“What?” he asked, voice low and raspy. 

“You’re squeezing me”

It wasn’t a complaint, in any way, shape, or form. You liked the feeling of him all around you, almost way too much.

“It was intentional”

He squeezed you again, shifting on the couch and pulling you on top of him. His eyes were foggy with sleep but it was easy to spot the same thing you saw that night. The emotion you refused to acknowledge then. 

Longing and adoration. 

“Sorry, I left that day. I freaked out” You shook your head, pushing his hair from his forehead. You wished you could be more vocal about all of it, have prettier words for him "I thought that if I stayed our relationship would be over because I don't think I can go back to how we were before that night. I…"

You groaned and hid your face on the crock of his neck.

“I like you” you admitted quietly “I have for a really long time now”

Scared, you looked at him.

"I want it all with you, yn. I've liked you from the start. So can we, please, stop pretending that there isn't anything more than just friendship between us? We’ve had our fair share of miscommunication, missed opportunities, and unspoken feelings. Our friendship is everything to me, but I can't ignore these other feelings anymore”

His eyes never left yours. His emotions weren’t hidden in his sleeve, they were on full display for you. Everything that Mingyu was, he showed to you without any reservations.

So, instead of giving him stuttered words, you pulled his face close to yours, capturing his lips into yours.

The kiss was the same as the ones from the other night but also entirely new. That night you were friends testing the waters, entering unknown territory. In that moment, though, you were more. 

“I missed you so much” you whispered against his lips, trailing soft kisses down his neck. You felt his semi-erect cock under you, his hands on your ass “So much, Gyu”

“yn?” he asked as you moved lower on his body.

“I never got a chance to do this that night”

You kept on moving down over his body, nails lightly scratching the exposed skin of his lower stomach that was uncovered by his shirt. In one swift movement, you pulled his sweats and boxers down, revealing his cock. 

“I can never predict you,” he said with a laugh “Two seconds ago we were confessing, and now, look at you”

You ran the tip of your finger over the length of his cock while looking at him, trying your best to keep a neutral face.

“Do you want to talk some more?” you asked, voice sweet.

“Looking at you, all quiet and sweet, no one would ever… Jesus, fuck”

You didn’t wait for him to finish, taking him as deep as you could in your throat. You stood still for a second, eyes still on Mingyu watching his reaction. His head was tipped back, eyes closed, mouth slightly open. Slowly you started to bob your head up and down, one of your hands on his balls as the other held the base of his cock.

“Fuck, yn” he moaned. 

Mingyu snaked his hand on your head, fingers gripping your hair and slightly pulling it, while forcing your head down on his cock, making you moan in exchange. You pulled your head back, licking his tip and small drops of precum. You felt him twitch as you teased his tip with your lips and tongue, your hands pumping him up and down. 

Another moan left his lips, louder this time, followed by a grunt.

Abruptly he pulled you up. 

“If you keep going, I’m going to cum in your mouth”

You smiled at him, which made him moan again.

“That’s what I was going for” you complained, kissing his neck, hand going between your bodies, running down once again, until you reached him. 

“But I want to fuck you” he whispered against your ear, biting the sensitive skin.

Mingyu took your lips in his, his hand still on your hair. Without ever breaking the kiss, he stood from the couch with you in his arms, pushing his pants and underwear past his ankles. The pieces of clothes lost somewhere in the hallway.

“I’m going to stock this entire goddamn apartment in condoms, every single room” he grunted as he dropped you on the bed “Pants off”

“Aren’t we bossy” you teased with a laugh, but still complied “You too, shirt off”

He rolled his eyes at you, pulling his shirt over his head. How many times had you ogled his body over the years, watching the transformation of going to the gym every single day? And now he was in full display for you.

“I want to ride you” you whispered.

Mingyu didn’t complain, settling against the headboard of the bed.

“I’m all yours”

Something in the way he said it felt real, final. He was yours and you were his.

You climbed up his body and took his cock in your hand again, pumping him once, then again, before angling him under your wet pussy.

Slowly, painfully so, you lowered your body,  taking every inch of him in. You moaned, feeling full of him. Mingyu reached over and pulled your shirt off too.

Lazily you started to move up and down, deliberately so. 

“Baby, you have to go faster” he moaned, pulling your face close to his, nibbling on the skin of your neck. You knew he would leave a mark, and so did he, but you didn’t mind.��

Mingyu suddenly grabbed your hips with both hands, firmly holding you as he started to move his hips up and down, faster than the pace you were willing to give him. You wanted to torture him, but he could do just the same to you. He smiled when you clutched onto his shoulder, head tilted back.

“Ah, Mingyu, fuck” you cried “fuck, fuck, fuck”

He moved one of his hands, his thumb pressing over your throbbing clit, mercilessly rubbing in circles. 

“Ah… oh my god”

“Are you gonna cum, baby?” 

He pressed harder against you, hips moving faster. The sound of his skin hitting yours was loud, dirty, and enticing. 

“Cum for me, baby, all over my cock” he whispered.

With a cry, you felt your pussy clenching around his cock as your orgasms took over you. Your entire body shook as you held onto Mingyu, biting his neck while he fucked you, thrusting to the hilt, again and again, until he too found his release.

You pulled back slightly and kissed him.

“Give me two minutes and I’ll eat you out”

You laughed and pushed his face back.

“You don’t have it in you, big boy”

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[satori-runa]

—Ties that bind

Summary: Your coworker turns into your boyfriend and soon enough decides to change that as well.

Tags: Established Relationship mostly, fluff, romance, slight angst

Words: 1k

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You never expected your relationship with Leon Scott Kennedy to be anything special.

In fact, it started off as something messy and fragile. He had just come out of a rough breakup, left by his girlfriend when he made the move to Raccoon City. He was hurt and lost, but you were there, the sweet receptionist who always knew when he needed a pick-me-up. Your smile and kind gestures were a balm for his bruised heart.

Leon wasn’t typically a coffee drinker—the bitterness was something he normally avoided like the plague. But when you started bringing him a cup during his busiest hours, he found himself sipping it anyway. Your coffee was somehow different, sweeter, just like you. He could never bring himself to turn down something you made just for him, so he kept drinking it, even if it wasn’t his usual choice.

He finally gathered the courage to strike up a real conversation with you during one of those busy days. He fiddled nervously with his pen, glancing at the freshly brewed coffee you left on his desk. "Do you usually drink coffee?" he stammered out, wincing internally at how awkward he sounded.

You smiled, launching into a story about a small café you frequented that had the perfect blend. He listened intently, eyes wide in surprise when you casually invited him to visit it with you sometime. That’s how your first date happened: in a cozy vintage café filled with the smell of fresh coffee and old books. It felt right sitting there with him, sharing stories and laughter. Despite the chaos in Leon’s life, you clicked instantly. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he could start looking forward instead of lingering on the past.

Soon enough, you found yourself spending more time at his apartment than your own. It was full of little pieces of you now: the plushie he won for you at the carnival, a matching mug for your morning coffee sessions. His space felt cozier with your things in it, and Leon loved it. He cherished the way his home had become a reflection of the two of you together.

But lately, something felt off. Leon had become distant—no messages, no calls, not even a quick voice note. He hadn’t mentioned any trips or special missions at work, so you couldn’t help but worry. Maybe he just needed some space after a tough week, you told yourself, but that didn’t stop the gnawing ache in your chest. You decided to visit him at work, only to hear from his colleagues that he was fine, business as usual. Yet, the coffee you left for him the previous day sat untouched and cold, the sweet note you’d attached to it now crumpled on the floor. It stung.

Your heart sank even further when you found a note on your desk, written in Leon’s familiar scrawled handwriting: Come over tonight. No explanation, no hint of what was going on. It felt like a breakup note. You spent the entire day with a heavy weight in your chest, trying to prepare yourself for the worst.

Leon, on the other hand, had no idea. He’d left work early, practically racing home to get everything ready. He had been planning a surprise for days, avoiding you so he wouldn’t spoil it. He was a bit clueless, sure, but his intentions were pure. He wanted everything to be perfect.

When you knocked on his door that evening, you could barely keep it together. Your eyes were red and puffy, tears streaming down your face as you gripped your bag tightly. The second Leon saw you, his face fell. He didn’t understand why you looked so heartbroken. “If you’re going to break up with me, just make it quick,” you choked out, trying to keep your voice steady.

Panic shot through Leon like a jolt of electricity. Without thinking, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close and cradling your head against his chest. “Honey, no,” he whispered, his voice thick with desperation. “Shh, please. I would never break up with you.”

You pushed back slightly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “Then why haven’t I heard from you in three days, Leon? I thought you were avoiding me.”

He froze, realization dawning on him. “Three days?” He hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed. Between work and his secret planning, he’d lost track completely. “I’m so sorry, sunshine,” he murmured, brushing a tear away with his thumb. “I didn’t mean to leave you hanging like that. I was just... I was planning something. I promise it wasn’t on purpose.”

You blinked in confusion, but before you could respond, he gently took your hand and led you inside. The hallway was decorated with the picture frames you had helped him put up, little snapshots of happy memories. He guided you to the living room, where the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of candles casting a warm light over the coffee table. On it, he had set out your favorite snacks, the matching mugs filled with steaming coffee, and a photo album. But it was the small velvet box placed delicately on top that made your breath catch in your throat.

Leon turned to you, his expression soft and full of love. “How could I ever leave the woman I want to marry?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stared at him, tears welling up in your eyes again, but this time they were tears of joy. He wasn’t pulling away; he was pulling you closer than ever. The realization hit you like a wave, and you couldn’t help but laugh, even as you cried.

Leon stepped closer, cupping your face in his hands. “I’m sorry I made you worry,” he murmured. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I wanted it to be perfect.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder. “You’re an idiot, Leon,” you said, but there was no anger in your voice, only relief and love.

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I know,” he agreed. “But I’m your idiot.”

[sweetdispatch]

Hi darl ❤️❤️

Can I order 8 cinnamon buns with coconut and maple syrup from the bakery? 🥰

Storm - M. Rempe

v' bakery pairing: Matt Rempe x fem!reader summary: Your relationship with Matt looked like a fairytale but when you two finally moved together, everything started going downhill warning: swear words

You and Matt have been friends since kindergarten. During playtime, you two were always playing wife and husband. In primary school, you ended up in class together with him. You were attached to each other, nothing could change it. You’ve been growing up together all the years and became a family for each other. 

When you were 15 years old, Matt asked you to be his girlfriend and since then, you’ve been a couple. Even when he moved to America to play hockey, you’ve been together and going stronger than ever. 5 years later, Matt proposed to you and when you two turned 21, you were married. Everyone was concerned that it might be too soon but you’ve been madly in love and never had doubts about timing. 

After all those years, Matt finally landed in New York and felt stable enough to rent an apartment and not live with others. That’s when you finally moved with him. You were currently searching for a job after graduation so timing looked perfect for both of you. 8 years of relationship and you finally had been capable of living together. 

At first, everything was perfect. You and Matt had been living in your own bubble, excited to finally be able to spend every free minute together. But every month that you spent together was getting harder and harder. You noticed how much difference there’s between living a long distance and living together. 

Matt was a messy person and this was annoying you. His hockey gear was always laying on the floor and you were the one who had to clean it because he was forgetting about this. He was leaving plates and glasses on the coffee table always having an excuse that he’s tired. You hated that you needed to do everything for him. 

You weren't a saint either. You were always leaving lights on in rooms because you kept forgetting to turn them off. The bathroom and closet were a mess because you never put your things back on the place. Matt was tripping over your clothes and never had space on the sink because of your makeup. 

This started small disagreements between you two. With time, they escalated and almost every day you had arguments. It became normal for you and Matt to go to sleep angry at each other but later, you moved into the guest bedroom because you couldn’t stand him. 

It felt like you two were living a long distance again. Maybe you were living in the same apartment but you’ve become distant from each other. In front of everyone you were looking like a perfect couple but behind closed doors, you were barely talking because every conversation was ending up as an argument. 

It was another fight between you and Matt. You didn’t even know when it started but you were tired. You felt exhausted that the man you love is a victim of your anger. Matt was fed up with everything. Something that was a perfect relationship turned into a nightmare. The worst was that none of you knew how to save it. 

“You know what, fuck you” You told him and turned around to leave the living room.

“Very fucking mature from you to run away” Matt said with sass in his voice.

“Call whatever you want but I’m done. I love you but this isn’t working. We’re not working. I would say let’s get a divorce instead of ruining each other” You sighed. 

“Are you for real now? You prefer to get divorce than fight for us?” Matt asked you. 

“Matt, when did we have a proper conversation? Every time we tried to talk about it, we ended up in tears and with sore throats from the screaming” You told him defeated. 

“Look at me” You raised your head to look at his face. “Said again that you want a divorce and I’ll get you” Matt said and waited for your response. 

You looked into Matt’s eyes and you couldn't say any word. You saw in his eyes the man you used to play, study and be with him. You saw the man that made you fall in love and you rock for your whole life. You noticed that he was on the verge of tears and that he wants to fight for this marriage. 

Without a word, you hugged him. Quickly, Matt embraced you with his arms. You were standing in the living room, hugging each other. It was the first time in months when you shared a genuine hug and not forced one. It was an intimate moment for both of you. 

“I love you and I want us to be good” Matt whispered. 

“I love you too and I want the same thing but I know that we’ll figure it out” You told him without leaving his side. 

For the first time in months, you and Matt were sleeping in the same bed. It was a quiet and peaceful night. The next day you two decided to search for a couple therapist to help you two. This felt like a new start for both of you and this marriage. Love won over all the arguments you’ve had. After every storm, the sun comes out.

[secretlysimpash]

Neighbor!Johnny x Neighbor!Reader-sundress szn

Neighbor!Reader's taking full advantage of the nice weather Neighbor!Soap comes home to quite a sight

!!!MDNI!!!

Warning(s): fem reader, (consensual) voyeurism, oral (fem receiving), riding, smut, lil bit of fluff at the end

It was finally nice enough to start dressing in lighter clothes. Late-April chased away the chill of early spring, and the sun was making itself as well as it's warmth known once more. It's perfect for you, who bought a metric fuck-ton of dresses at the end of Fall. An entire haul of pretty dresses of varying styles and colors...Just to shove them into your closet when it got too cold to wear them comfortably. But now it was finally their time to shine.

After looking through the possible dresses, you slipped into a yellow sundress. The fabric is dotted with white daisies and dainty little bows adorn the narrow straps on your shoulders. It flows nicely just below your knees, you haven't felt this free in ages (well...months, but still). Once you smooth it out against your curves, you twirl in front of the full-length mirror in your room. A breeze blows through your bedroom window, which you opened up nice and wide right after shimmying out of your pajamas.

. . .

The billowing curtains do absolutely nothing to hide your room from the prying eyes of Johnny. The brawny Scot just got home from a long deployment, tired and ready to conk out as soon as he got to his bedroom. But his steps slowed when he caught sight of you, his pretty neighbor and very close friend, innocently twisting and posing in that cute dress. Any thoughts of sleep or his bed swiftly vacated his mind, the effect of seeing you being stronger than coffee or smelling salts.

But no matter how innocent you look, he knows you're doing this on purpose. And it's confirmed when he finally slipped into his house, set his stuff down, and almost immediately got a text from a contact simply named "mine".

like what you see?❤️‍🔥

Johnny's cheeks went ruddy at the sight of that message, a familiar heat rushing south.

guess what i've got on under this dress, Johnnyyyy

Attached to the second message was a photo. A closeup of the hem of that damn sundress...Your free hand bunching the material up, and up and up...Stopping at the apex of your thighs. Oh, he could take a guess at what's there...Or what wasn't, rather.

get over here.

If anything, Soap is a good soldier, he's good at following orders. And that one simple order from you...He followed it without hesitation. He scrambled back out of his house after throwing his bags unceremoniously into his room. and thankfully he had enough sense to lock his door before sprinting to your place.

. . .

After barreling into your caramel scented house and shouldering through your bedroom door, Johnny is finally where he wanted to be for months now. Finally doing what he spent nights in safehouses and in the backs of trucks dreaming about.

And what is the one place he considers heaven on Earth? Between your thighs, eating you out like a man starved. You're laying back on your bed, letting his skilled mouth and fingers take you right to the edge. He doesn't stop until you're back is arching off of the bed, until you see stars and roughly grip at his hair as you ride out your release.

"Fuck...Never forgot how good you taste..." He groaned against your mound after lapping up your juices. His fingers slide between your folds again, thumb pressing against the still sensitive bud at the top of your sex.

"Missed you so much, Johnny..." You finally manage to say, gently scratching at his scalp as he lazily fingers you, pleasure slowly building again. "Just let me show you how much I missed you."

Before he could protest and bring you over the edge again the way he wanted to, you give his hair one rough tug. A clear message. Your turn, Johnny. After he withdraws his fingers (and sucks them clean), you switch positions with him, guiding him until he's laying on his back. Once Johnny's all laid out on your bed, you straddle him and let your dress pool around his lower half. With one hand, you hold the painfully hard length between his legs steady so you can slowly sink down.

Once the tip is in, you brace a hand on his toned stomach, eyes meeting his as you take in...Every. Single. Inch...Before slowly rising again. With a moan that could pass as a growl, Johnny brings his hands to your hips, gripping at the plush flesh beneath the yellow fabric so he can guide you. With every gasp and moan, each name panted out and barely audible curse uttered, the speed begins to increase. In a matter of minutes, you're bouncing at a pace that makes the bed beneath you both begin to creak. Riding him fast and taking him as deep as you can, one hand grasping at his thigh.

"Keep tha' up and I won't last..." He grits out, one hand gripping your hip while the other rests on top of yours, fingers laced together. "Don't stop, bonnie...Fuck, don't stop, don't stop...Gonna fuckin' fill your cunt..."

And you don't stop. You keep going, riding him, letting your nails bite into his thigh as you get closer to the edge. Until you're tumbling over it and into your release once again. As your gummy walls clench around him, stroking him relentlessly, he uses one hand to keep you moving before gripping and holding your hips down.

And Johnny does exactly what he said he was going to do. He moans as he finishes, every muscle tightening and relaxing as he finishes. You both stay like that for a bit...Breathless, your sweat-drenched body draped over his before you slowly lift off of him. A quiet chuckle leaves him as he helps you off of him, gathering your boneless body against him.

You lay there against his chest, face smushed against his pecs for a moment as he strokes your head soothingly. For a moment, you just lay there, basking the afterglow...

"Mmh mhillionhere's shrtbrhed."

"...What was that, mo ghaol?"

"Ah mhade yuh ah--"

Johnny laughs at your second attempt at speaking against his chest and carefully pulls your face up enough to hear you. "Try that again, hen."

"I made a batch of millionaire's shortbread." You finally say clearly, gazing up at Johnny with a half-dazed-but-recovering look on your face. "I figured you didn't see them when you came in since you had like...A one-track mind, but I really wanted to make something for you, something from Scotland, and I..."

You continue on, resting your head on his chest again as you explain how you went through a few different recipes and how you wanted to get it right and about how hard it was to pick a dessert to go with.

And he listens to every word, all while looking at you like you hung the moon in the sky.

Maybe next time he comes home, he could just skip his house altogether. The next time he ever comes home, he wants to come home to a house that he shares with you.

--

Translation: "Mo ghaol"= My love

[dumsp1r0sper0]

Bring back Tim "nerd" Drake

"Tim Drake" is pretty much synonymous with "photographer" in this fandom, and his interest in photography is also immediately connected to the way he used to sneak around at night taking photos of Batman and Robin. There are one of two reasons for his nighttime escapades, depending on the characterisation:

Sad baby Tim -> idolised a Robin of choice and used to photograph them out of a desperate longing for connection and family

Borderline supervillain Tim -> photographed them to more or less keep tabs on them, doing the most he could as a civilian to keep them safe.

If you were to attach a symbol to each of the Robins, Dick would probably get a circus tent/trapeze line, Jason would get a gun or a crowbar (ouch), Damian would get a sword and Tim would likely get either a bo staff or a camera (or, God forbid, coffee). But, in canon he only ever photographed Batman once.

He figured out their identities from a brief clip of a fight shown on the news, and spent the next five years as Batman and Robin's number one fanboy, not their number one stalker. He collected posters and comics and other bits like that.

In canon, he's interested in science fiction and the DC equivalent of Dungeons and Dragons. He also learned how to skateboard but that was more a way to get around than a hobby. Out of all the Robins, Tim probably has the most established civilian persona because he had a near 200-issue long solo run focusing on him both in costume and out of it.

Dick's heyday was during the time when adventure mattered more than characterisation, so there was never much of a chance to see what he did in his downtime. (He did play guitar, though). Jason, frankly, wasn't around for long enough to get a real insight into his interests, but given that he cared enough to collect posters while actively homeless, it's safe to assume that he was very much into music. Damian, of course, has art, but also given his upbringing, he hasn't had much of a chance to discover himself outside of the role of Robin.

I just find it interesting that the Robin with the most established civilian identity is also the one whose fanon self is so completely divorced from the canon. Bring back Tim being a geek!

[jenctrl]

16 - Inconvenience

wc; 2.7+

She never truly realised it, it never seemed to matter because her priorities were always messed up. However, Y/n’s whole life was controlled by the small inconveniences that occurred. A small inconvenience controlled her whole life. It could send her into a down or upward spiral of uncontrollable feelings and emotions where she would get paralysed, unsure of what to do, of what choice to make on her own.

Now, her life didn’t revolve around her wants or needs; Y/n’s life revolved around Minji, her girlfriend. Minji was the deciding factor in what her life would look like and how she would feel. She depended on Minji for her life to be good, and enjoyable, and she was able to live without thinking about the bad or worrying about making choices on her own. 

Y/n had spent a week in bed, crying and if she wasn’t crying, she was sleeping. The girl had slept through a whole week because her girlfriend was upset with her. This was the end of Y/n’s world and the only person who could fix it was Minji. The girl was paralysed by the situation she put herself in by putting all the cards on the table despite being aware since a kid how dirtily a game of love could be played. She trusted Minji though.

It wasn’t fair, Y/n knew that it wasn’t fair to Minji, and it especially wasn’t fair to place such a big responsibility on someone as busy as her girlfriend or anyone in general. It shouldn’t be placed on anyone, but she didn’t control it, she didn’t know how to control her life. If she knew how to, she would have stopped a long time ago and made life easier for herself. It was what worked for her even if it rarely worked out, that attachment, that fear of separation brewed strong in her and she attached herself to whatever source of love she could. 

It was the norm for her, but at the same time it was unbelievable, yet it made sense that she had isolated and loathed herself for a week straight because someone she loved got upset with her. The deciding factor of her life wasn’t present, and it left her in a downward spiral. How could she survive without Minji there for her? Without reassurance that she was loved? Without someone to make difficult choices for her? Without being able to love someone?

The girl wondered why she hadn’t been more understanding of other people back when she was younger. How couldn’t she understand why someone would sleep through a whole day? How someone would cry through a whole day. Why someone would close off from the world and live in self-pity? It made her feel horrible in her skin the longer she thought about it.  

There was no way to go back in time with the knowledge she carried now. 

Y/n simply wasn’t understanding of anyone, especially not her girlfriend. She was too selfish. 

She had needed those two hours to get ready, it took her an hour just to force herself out of bed. The anxiety was destroying her thought process as all she could worry about was the future. Every little solution she came up with became nothing but a problem as she had no clue how to act out on it to solve whatever problem she had. Y/n had a lot of problems at the moment, and they were getting overwhelming. 

“What was it that you wanted to ask last time? Did you figure it out or is that what’s bothering you?” 

She looked up from the cup of coffee she had been staring down at, it was almost 1 am and somehow Jungwon was able to make time for her. Y/n leaned back in the chair and sunk in her seat, now she felt uneasy at what she had done. Did she make him come all this way just to pour out her problems to him? At the same time, she couldn’t help but wonder why Minji never managed to make time for her.

She twisted her lips; she was needy, and it was only her fault and not Minji’s who was giving her more than enough. She couldn’t help but cling to any type of affection, cold water felt warm against cold hands. All she wanted was to love.

There were so many things bothering her Y/n had forgotten what favour she had wanted to ask Jungwon last time. Was she so dependent? She couldn’t do anything on her own. 

“No, that’s not it…” She trailed off, her eyes were looking everywhere but at the guy she was here with. The space was almost empty as they sat in an isolated corner, his manager not sitting far from them after bringing them the drinks. Y/n trailed after her thoughts, it had been a blackout since those texts with Minji and she tried her best to remember what it was. It was simply easier to forget.

She let out a breath and picked up the cup. “It was stupid, to be honest, I don’t think I’m in the right mindset to do it,” Y/n mumbled, remembering the urge she got when she was drunk but recently the will to do anything washed away. All she wanted was to talk to Minji yet she had no clue how. 

With every second, she felt more and more hopeless and felt like giving up after being proven day by day that life would never be easy. “Nothing important.” She added as she finally looked at Jungwon who looked unconvinced by her words. Was she really that transparent? 

“Well, I trust you to let me know if it is something.”

Y/n stared down at the coffee, looking at her reflection as she put the cup to her lips and took a small sip. She didn’t like those words, she didn’t like how everyone trusted her, people put so much trust in her and all she did was lie to them. How could anyone trust her? How did she tell people to stop trusting her? 

“How are you though?” She asked, feeling bad that she was always the sad one, the one that needed comfort, the one people looked after, took care of and loved because she could never just be fine. Simply because she had never gotten the love she needed before.  

The girl put the cup down, the sound of it colliding with the wooden table was enough to drown out what Jungwon was saying. Her eyes were glued to the table and she was trying her best to look up at her friend, to pay attention to him, but it seemed impossible and by the time she tore her eyes away, she was already lost. 

Her mind was hazy and all she wanted to do was cry until it felt better, but every time she did it reminded her of how she felt and it only got worse from there. The sudden silence made her head buzz louder and she nervously picked at her nails as she would hum and try to acknowledge Jungwon.

“Would you support my decision if I said that I wanna go back home?” Y/n at last asked, her eyes were still down on the table. There was something difficult about looking up whenever she felt this way. It felt like she was undeserving of even looking people in the eye, of looking above someone’s feet.

“Did my company make you feel worse?” The girl glanced over at Jungwon who had a frown on his face now. In a city so busy, they somehow managed to sit together without having to be worried about being seen and Y/n gripped onto the sleeves of the hoodie she was wearing. It served as a reminder–Minji’s hoodie–the same person who rarely wanted to see her outside the dorm. 

She just needed one person to agree that she should do it. Y/n couldn’t do it on her own even if she wanted to. “No, I’m being serious, Won.” Y/n breathed out and dropped her hands in her lap, rubbing her palms against her thighs. It made her take a deep breath and look up at the guy at last. 

Everything felt like it was suddenly falling apart for her and it was simply because she had been missing what was important. Y/n had been greedy, she had been yearning for more than acceptable and it ended with her in distress. 

As she looked ahead at Jungwon, the buzzing in her ears didn’t stop, her peripheral vision would still dim and her fingers didn’t stop trembling, tingling from how cold they were. She probably should’ve eaten something, but she barely made it out of bed. Her teeth dug into her lower lip to stop it from trembling, anxiety was starting to bubble in her chest and up her throat, terrified of having a panic attack in the middle of the café, terrified of crying again. What if she would run out of tears?

“How serious? What about your mum? I know you well enough to see that you are far from fine, Y/n.” 

They had unfortunately known each other long enough, Y/n cherished it, but at the same time wished people didn’t know her as well as they did. She felt like she was see-through while she also lived behind dimmed glass where she kept secrets and at the same time she hated carrying those. 

She released her lower lip and swallowed down the lump of burdens she never wanted in the first place. “She’s still my mum…” Y/n tried to throw herself, she tried her best to catch her voice as it was disappearing. It always did whenever it came to certain people. The power they held over her, left her without a voice, but they were still important to her, she still loved these people whether they did it back, and if they did; did they do it the same way? 

The girl felt like a fool whenever she did these things though, it felt like everyone ridiculed her for still loving. Her eyes watched as he pursed his lips into compassion while tilting his head. She was pitied for being this way, the person that Y/n was was someone people only knew pity for. It was depressing, wasn’t it? Or maybe she still didn’t understand other people well enough. However, she was hurting for them, and that was why she still had so much love for her mother. 

Her pitiful character sympathised with others. 

“I know that but–”

“It’s complicated, Won and you know it–” Y/n cut through his words and she bit her lower lip again, stumbling over her words. Her eyes zoned out as she looked down in shame at how she defended her mother, not being able to do it fully either, but no matter how much shame she felt, she felt an obligation to do it. The woman deserved it even if she at times didn’t want anything good for her. “Plus, she’s not home for another week.”

It made her heart race. “I just care, you know that I mean well.” All she could do was nod while trying to distract herself from the storm inside of her. It was shaking everything up even more. Somehow, the people who weren’t with her at the moment still managed to affect her the most. The least present people in her life had some of the harshest and tightest grips on her. 

“I’m just tired, it’s hard to stay around so many people all the time.” Y/n excused and there was something in it. She thought that maybe if she got away from everything and everyone, then maybe, just maybe, even if only for a few seconds, all her problems would disappear. That she would be able to escape herself, that she could disappear and not know what anguish was.

“What about uni?” 

Her tired eyes looked up, doe eyes, they were the best at spilling tears, they had a pleading gaze carved in them forever. The smiles never seemed to wash it away and Y/n felt like she was an empty canvas with nothing to offer. What was she even doing in university? Did she have any true passions? Whenever she looked at her friends it felt like she was nothing but someone who had no meaning in their life and she envied people with big dreams. There was nothing to strive for except another day to survive. She was a blurry shadow in the hallways, not supposed to be there.

“I will take the subway or the car at home, it’s not that far.”

“How is it though? You barely talk about these things.” These things; her lower lip jutted as she thought about it. It was always so tempting to drop everything and give up. Why couldn’t she be passionate about something? Why couldn’t she be like everyone else? It would be so much easier if she were.

“I hate it most of the time.” 

“But you’re so good at it.” Jungwon pressed and Y/n gave him a small smile as thank you. It wasn’t the first time she heard it. It bothered her that she couldn’t be passionate about something she was good at. It was there at some point but disappeared with time and the flame was never strong to begin with. 

She never did things for herself, “I did it out of spite to my mum, but as much as she hates it, I probably hate it more.” The girl added on, remembering how her mother cursed her for centuries for wanting to pursue acting, to act and be an actor. The words were drilled into her head and it hurt to admit, but it also made her let out a breathless chuckle because “It’s kind of funny how in the end she’s always right.”

“Don’t say that, especially with how she talks to you, Y/n. You don’t deserve any of that-”

“Maybe it’s the other way around…” She trailed off and felt shame wash over her, knowing she couldn’t finish what she was going to say. Y/n couldn’t tell Jungown that it was the other way around and that maybe it was her mother who didn’t deserve any of this. In the end, it would earn her pity when she didn’t deserve it, Y/n wanted to blame her mother but at the same time, she couldn’t. It made her feel guilty whenever she did. 

“I feel like I just don't appreciate what I get and need to go back to remember how much worse it used to be,” she concluded and grabbed the cup that was half empty and that had gone cold by now. Her fingers tapped against it as she twisted her lips in thought, her gaze stuck on one point and silence fell upon them. 

She didn’t bother looking up when Jungwon heaved a long sigh, his hands dropping onto the vintage wooden table after ruffling his hair. His fingers matched the tapping of Y/n’s as he hummed in thought, being able to see him nod in her dimmed peripheral vision. The guy groaned and at last, they both looked at each other. 

“You’re so stubborn about certain things,” he pointed out, a small smile broke out on his lips and he glanced away in feigned distaste before setting his pointed look back on the girl. “Fine, do what you want, I mean I will, unfortunately, support you, but under a few conditions which are: you will talk to me, you will go out with me more and let me know if something is wrong…” 

Y/n nodded along to his words, this time a genuine smile came onto her lips. She hadn’t felt the urge to smile in a while, but it felt a little warm to know that he did care and did support her even if what she did was stupid. 

“And no secrets,” she forced the smile to stay as it all twisted in her stomach, knowing that she kept too many secrets from the most important people in her life. Y/n felt like throwing up, but she would keep that to herself and keep making promises she broke the same second because she didn’t want to upset the people close to her. She didn’t want to hurt them or disappoint them more than she already had and instead would slowly drown in what was an ocean of misery.

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[piastappies]

hii can i request jameson hawthorne x fem reader who is kind of like his aunts or grandfathers intern? ans j like them w a super flirty relationship and tension. ty!!

˗ˏ` INTERNSHIP! 🎞️ ´ˎ˗

pairing. jameson hawthorne x intern!reader

summary. jameson’s life seems to get undeniably more boring than ever and alisa comes with a rescue.

author’s note. i LOVE jameson hawthorne. i felt like i needed to say that. idk if this is flirty enough but i hope u like it <3 thank u so much for the req, i love my boyfriend 🫶 not proofread! i wrote it at night so might be lots of typos or grammar mistakes 👎👎

EVERYTHING WAS BORING, college was boring, annoying grayson was boring, which truthfully made jameson feel as boring as ever. it almost felt as if his life lost its true meaning. it reached the point, where avery would poke fun at him, saying things like nana probably threw a spell on you, or look at that, jameson hawthorne has nothing to do, the world is ending, which was, well… amusing, although he couldn’t admit it.

jameson’s life was getting more and more monotonous each day and for the first time, he didn’t know what to do with it. there was no thrill, no adrenaline rushing through his veins, nothing — and as a certified middle child, he was going absolutely crazy, becoming almost insufferable. xander thought it was funny, seeing him all worked up, but not at all at the same time.

it would go on until alisa brought an intern, who — as it turned out later — was the girl he met on a trip to tuscany during his gap year. someone he had an incredible connection with, but back then, jameson didn’t want any strings attached, which… resulted in a wave of regret, because he couldn’t let himself get your name.

hawthorne could feel his throat getting dry as his eyes scanned your outfit. the light beige shirt with the top button undone, so it wouldn’t suffocate you, the pencil skirt hugging your hips and thighs, exposing your legs almost perfectly. if he was even more unhinged than he usually is, he would probably had his mouth full of foam.

what was even worse than the outfit, which made him extremely feral, was that you didn’t even flinch when alisa introduced you and your eyes fell upon him. maybe he was wrong and mistook you for the tuscany girl? maybe you were just a random girl, who looked incredibly attractive in her work attire, that looked extremely similar to other girl he met in italy? so many questions, yet so little answers.

a long sigh has left your lips, the second you ran your face with cold water. of course, your luck had to bring you to the house of the guy you spent the best month of your life with. how was that even possible? neither of you had ever believed in the ‘we’ll meet again if we’re meant to be’ type of thing. you always said that life is made by coincidences, nothing is ever planned for you beforehand and as long as you’ve the money, no one will care what you’re doing. but here you were, in his house, wearing pieces of clothing you wouldn’t wear if you knew, feeling like a crap from pulling an all nighter the night before.

jameson winchester hawthorne has looked as good as you remembered him. dark, velvet dress shirt embracing his toned stomach and muscular arms that once (or twice) were wrapped around you. though, after all this time, he still wore the rings you bought him, which made your heart race.

you genuinely thought that the racing of your heart would stop after some time, especially since the internship at mcnamara, oren and jones had you spending an excruciating amount of time in the hawthorne house with jameson always being somewhere around. he’d often find you in the hallway, hardly ever exchanging more than few words, though always making sure to brush against your skin slightly.

“you’re agitating.” you muttered, when his back leaned against the counter, while you were fixing yourself a coffee, which unlike at the company, was truly amazing. “don’t have anything better to do?”

“c’mon, yn.” he sighed almost playfully, rolling his eyes at you. “can’t even crack a smile for me?” jameson’s tone coated your mind, sending a warm wave to your cheeks. it was the most thrilling thing to him these last couple weeks. seeing you get so flustered over the smallest act gave him the same feeling like when he cliff dived.

“i’m working, jameson.” the way his name rolled off your tongue made him smile. “it’s not tuscany. i need to get stuff done.”

“you remember tuscany, huh?”

this man was driving you insane. the way he smirked at you, the way his words had such an effect on you, the way he always knew what to say to make you flustered. “you’re such an idiot.” was all you said about his last comment, rolling your eyes at him as you noticed the red lipstick stain on the white mug.

YOU COULDN’T REALLY PINPOINT THE MOMENT when the strictly–formal conversations with the hawthorne brothers and grambs sisters became so casual. you couldn’t wait for the hawthorne days as you called them, when you could leave the bureau and the paperwork to join alisa with whatever she was doing there. most of the time, xander would steal you away to ask you the stupidest questions about law enforcement and law in general just to leave you fifteen minutes later.

as much as you tried to push jameson away to not raise any suspicions of the history you had, he was irresistible. always making sure to tease you in some kind of way. unfortunately or not, you started caving in, just like he predicted.

before you know it, your thighs were met with the cold surface of the bathroom counter in some fancy restaurant, the fabric of your emerald silky dress has ridden up as jameson pushed his right hand up your thigh, the left one squeezed your waist. his lips were pressed against yours, moving with a rough, possessive manner. some would say it was the tense atmosphere building up, when he couldn’t get you where he wanted.

and in that exact day, exact moment, jameson had you right when he wanted. it was a casual hangout, just him, his brothers, libby, avery and her friend, who also happened to be soon to–be–girlfriend of his youngest brother. but to jameson’s pleasure, everyone grew so fond of you that avery suggested you should go with them.

the theme was comfort, but elegant. so, the outfit of your choice was the silky dress that was accompanied by the necklace you got back in italy. the first words that came out of jameson’s mouth was a stutter. the sight of you made him stumble over the sentence he tried to make.

“you look — so amazing.” he groaned as his lips made a trail down your neck, sending a shiver down your spine, when his teeth had bitten the sweet spot right above your collarbone. “so fucking gorgeous.” the chain of praises was never ending.

your hands got on the collar of his shirt, gripping it as he continued to leave marks on your collarbones and shoulders. as much as you enjoyed his actions, you missed the feeling of his lips on yours. you pulled him up, hungrily crashing your mouth into his.

fifteen minutes later, the red lipstick was nowhere to be found on your face. on the other hand, there were lots of it on jameson. you were still sitting on the marble counter, legs wrapped around hawthorne’s hips. his mood was definitely better as he was zipping up your dress.

“a quickie in the bathroom, when did you turn so naughty, hm?” a chuckle escaped mouth as he watched you wipe the excess of your lipstick off his chin and bottom lip. “i met this cute guy during my vacation in europe. a real charmer.” you replied with a smirk, fixing the lacy strings of the dress as you jumped off the counter.

your chest was touching his, but neither of you moved away. you were still a little breathless from the unexpected activity and to be completely honest, it wasn’t enough — just looking at his stupid, handsome face made you crave him even more. you weren’t the only one though, considering that hawthorne couldn’t take his hands off of you as he brought one to your chin, tilting it upwards to have an easy access to kiss you again.

an involuntary grin hovered over your lips as his fingers brushed your cheek in a tender manner, before fixing his messy hair and leaving the bathroom. he closed the door just to open it again to wink at you and leave to get back to his siblings.

YOU COULD TELL that everyone already knew about the tiny thing going on between you and jameson. nevertheless, pretending like it wasn’t true was easier than admitting it. as long as alisa wasn’t asking any questions or forbidding you from showing up to the hawthorne house, you didn’t really care.

it was early, maybe even too early for your liking, when the alarm in your phone went off, earning a hoarse, incoherent groan from jameson, whose arm only tightened around your naked body. the only things covering you from flashing someone accidentally were the white sheets that kept you warm at night.

“turn it off.” another groan escaped his throat. he knew what this meant, it was five o’clock and you had to get to your dorm to get ready for the bureaucratic nightmare, as he liked to call it, at the law firm, which always handled all his familial issues. “gorgeous, there are lots of your stuff here, just go back to sleep. you can get ready here.”

“i can’t.” you replied, planting a few sweet kisses on his bare shoulder. “everyone will know i was here if i left later.” you added, your voice soft. your fingernails gently scratching the back of his neck.

“you act like they don’t know already.” you could swear he just laughed, his sleepy demeanour made him even more attractice at this point. “sorry to break it to you, gorg, but once you start, you forget all about quietness.” ironically, this shut you up immediately, red already spreading all over your cheeks.

“you know what’s funny?” a question rolled off his tongue, catching your interest, even though you couldn’t quite make out his words as his face was buried in the white pillow. “xander texted me to ask you to moan a few decibels less.”

“oh god, i am never leaving this room again.” you said embarrassed, hiding your face in hawthorne’s arm.

“i like that idea.” he laughed, pulling you even closer, shifting a little to shut your phone off completely. “make it my early christmas gift.”

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Heaven is not fit to house a love (like you and I) | Part 1

Word Count: 5.9k

Genre: smut, angst

Summary: When you first met your boyfriend, it was love at first sight. No, more than that. It was love before you even met. It felt like you had known each other in another life and were meant to find each other again. 

But that's not actually true, is it? You and Beomgyu don't actually know each other from another life, and the dreams you've been having aren't memories of your past life either. That's ridiculous. 

But then why does Beomgyu get so defensive about them? And why does each dream feel more real than the one before? 

A/N: this is the sequel to my series YAMQN but I'm trying to write it in a way that it would be comprehensible to people who have never read YAMQN. The parts in italic are the dreams. 

Warnings: fucking on furniture, orgasm control, premature ejaculation, masturbation, PIV sex, toxic relationships.

“Stay home” Beomgyu holds you from behind, kissing your neck

“We can’t. I’ve canceled on them too many times now.” You whine. Beomgyu keeps doing this. Every time you try to hang out with your friends he pouts and whines until you stay home with him. It was cute at first–how he couldn’t get enough of you–but now your friends are actually getting pissed at the both of you. 

“But I missed you.” You can feel his pout on your skin as his lips brush over it. 

“We hang out every day. We live together!” You protest, but you’re unable to keep the chuckle from your voice.

“I know but that’s not what I mean.” He mumbles cryptically and you turn your head towards him. “Then what do you mean?” 

He flushes and buries his face in the crook of your neck so you wouldn’t see him. “Never mind. It’s stupid”

You grab his long hair, gently lifting his head up so you can lock eyes with him. “No, tell me.”

He lets out a shaky sigh. “It’s just… you ever feel like you and someone else are two halves of the same soul and you’ve spent and will spend all your lifetimes trying to reunite with them and when you finally do, you just can’t bear to let go?”

You’re rendered speechless by his impassioned, if self-conscious, speech because it captured exactly what you’ve always felt about him but was too scared to say in case you scare him off. 

You met Beomgyu while at work at the coffee shop at the local mall around christmas time last year. You spotted this adorable guy in front of your store dressed in the most ridiculous teddy bear sweater you’ve ever seen, collecting donations to buy toys for the kids at the local shelters. You fell for him at first sight and wherever he’d show up, you’d spend your entire shift stealing glances at him to the point that even your coworkers noticed. You couldn’t get over how sweet what he was doing was and you so badly wanted to go up to him and tell him that but you didn’t want to come across as a weirdo. It was only after your coworkers’ incessant nagging that you finally mustered up the courage to go up to him, hot drink in hand, offering it to him and telling him how much you admired what he was doing and how cute he his sweater was. 

The conversation flowed much more easily than you could have ever anticipated–almost like you two were meant to be–and from then on it became your daily routine to bring him a cup of coffee during your break and have a chat with him until you were yelled at by your boss for taking too long. 

And when Christmas day was fast approaching and the both of you knew he wouldn’t be there much longer, a snarky comment from your boss finally brought the two of you together and forced you to get over your trepidation. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. She likes you. He likes you. She finishes her shift at 6. Come pick her up. She likes sunflowers.” 

And that is how you and Beomgyu started dating. 

“Well now I can't go.” You lament, and he smiles radiantly, victorious. 

God your friends are gonna be so mad.

But it’s hard to think about that when his lips are attached to your neck, sucking at your most sensitive spots as he grinds his dick into your ass. 

“You look so sexy in that dress.” He murmurs wantonly, groping your tits coarsely over said dress. 

“Careful or you’re gonna blow your load on my ass.” You tease, referring to the first time you two got intimate. He was so excited then that he ended up cumming just from a little grinding. He’s lucky he’s so cute and that you found his enthusiasm endearing because if any other guy had cum so prematurely like that, you would’ve probably kicked his ass out the door. But also he ended up eating you out for the rest of the night until your legs turned into jelly to make it up to you, so it wasn’t too bad. 

Beomgyu pulls your dress down over your tits so he can play with them directly as he sucks on the skin of your neck, and you can feel your arousal begin to build up between your legs. 

"Beomgyu…" 

"My sensitive baby." He chuckles, index fingers flicking your nipples. You squeeze your thighs together in need and push your ass back against his cock pointedly. "Fuck me, Beomgyu."

It doesn’t take much prompting to get Beomgyu to give in. He has always been needy for you and today was no different. He pushes you against the table, flipping the skirt of your dress up and pulling your underwear out of the way before he pushes himself inside you, filling you up so perfectly as if he was made for you. 

“Oh, Beomgyu…” You gasp, clawing at the wooden surface of the table. This is hardly new to you. Beomgyu has fucked you on every surface of this house, many times. He's insatiable. He just can't get enough of you, and neither you him. 

“Baby, I don’t think I will last long.” He grunts into your ear and you chuckle breathlessly. “Of course not. You never could resist my pussy, huh?”

“No.” He shakes his head, driving his cock into you harshly. 

“Then cum. Show me how much you need me.” 

“Fuck, I do. I do, baby.” He groans, pressing his hips flush against your ass as he empties his seed inside of you. 

“Well, that was quick.” You giggle when he catches his breath and he whines, flipping you over on your back and pulling your thighs up against your body. You know what’s coming next. Beomgyu can never leave you unsatisfied and when he finishes too early like this he usually makes it up to you by giving you the best oral of your life. 

But when he sees his cum dripping out of your swollen pussy, he stops and stares, almost hypnotized by the sight, and a far away look takes over his face. 

"What?" You ask, pulling him out of his thoughts. "Nothing."

“Do you like seeing me dripping with your seed? Are you thinking of knocking me up?” You tease, and his head snaps up to look at you at a neck-breaking speed, a horrified look on his face. 

Fuck, did you read the situation wrong? Why did you say that? You don’t know why you said that!

Actually you do. You had another one of your dreams today–the ones where Beomgyu is a prince and you’re a lady at court and you’re in love. Beomgyu doesn’t like hearing about them much. He calls them silly and always brushes them off, not wanting to hear about them. But his lack of enthusiasm doesn’t stop you from having them, and each one feels more real than the other, as if it had actually happened. As if you were recalling memories of a previous life. And the latest dream was no different. 

"Our children are not going to want for anything.” Dream Beomgyu says, hand splayed protectively over your tummy. 

“What?” Real-life Beomgyu sputters, and you explain yourself shyly, sitting up and covering yourself as you chuckle nervously. “I just… I had a dream that I was pregnant with your baby. You know, when you were a prince…” 

But Beomgyu doesn’t share your laughter. His face immediately hardens and his reaction this time surpasses mere distaste and veers into anger.. “I was never a prince. None of your dreams ever happened. They’re just meaningless dreams. Don’t be stupid.” 

"Stupid?" You draw back at the sudden outburst. 

"Yes. The whole prince thing is stupid. You need to get out of your head and come back to reality. The whimsical, superstitious act is not cute anymore." He snaps, far too much vitriol in his voice for such a silly topic.

"Why are you being such an ass? Would it hurt you to just listen and laugh with me? Or is the idea of us having a baby together so appalling to you?" You don’t know why you’re going so hard to defend your dreams or why he feels the need to tear them down, but you can’t ignore the sudden shift after he heard you mention the possibility of having a child together, and his answering laugh cuts you deep.

"You don't know anything." Beomgyu says, getting cryptic like he always gets whenever you talk about your dreams. Usually you’d let it go, but not this time. Not when he was so disgusted with the idea of having a child with you.  

"Don't know what?" You ask, frustrated. “That you find the thought of having a child with me so appalling?”

"I don't want to talk about this right now."

Of course, he never wants to talk about it. He always runs away whenever the topic of discussion gets too serious for his liking. For a guy who is so self-proclaimed obsessed with you, he sure does work hard to avoid these meaningful talks. Well, if he wants to avoid it so bad then you’ll make it easy for him. 

"Fine." You hop off the table and go to the bathroom to clean yourself up and change your underwear before going back out, intending to leave the apartment to get some fresh air and most importantly, to get away from Beomgyu. 

But Beomgyu has other ideas, following you at every step like a second shadow, and when he sees you going for the door, he steps in between you and it. "Where are you going?"

"Out."

"I'm coming with you." He states decidedly and you can’t keep the snort out of your mouth. He always does this. He always makes decisions for you. Well, not this time. "No. I need space." 

But he shakes his head firmly. "You're angry. I don't want to let you go angry."

Beomgyu always hated parting from you on bad terms. He always needed to make sure everything was okay before he let you out of his sight. It was sweet at first. You might’ve even considered it healthy at some point, but right now it’s driving you up the wall. Arguments can't always be resolved on the spot, especially when one party refuses to even talk, and so forcing you to be together just ends up with you lashing out because you can't blow off steam. 

But Beomgyu doesn’t care. He just doesn't want you out of his sight. 

"Beomgyu, for fuck's sake, get out of my way. I don’t want to be around you right now." 

"You know I can't let you go angry." He reiterates as if that is a necessity you had to cave to. 

"You're going to have to learn to. If you won’t talk to me then you have to at least give me some space.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to.” You shout, angry and fed up with him. “I don't know what the fuck happened to you in the past to traumatize you like this, because god knows you refuse to tell me, but I can’t coddle you about it anymore. I need to take a breather and I don’t care if you–”

"I lost a baby before." He utters softly but it was deafening to you. 

"What?" 

“Me and my ex, we had a baby on the way but I lost both of them. That’s why the idea of having a baby freaks me out so much. I can’t handle losing another one. I can’t handle losing you.… it’s just–it’s–” He starts tearing and stuttering his words, looking distraught as he attempts to explain himself to you, and you feel absolutely wretched for doubting him. You’re such a fucking bitch for forcing him to reveal this to you, but you’re also selfishly glad he did. Even this tiny sliver of his past is much needed context to explain the man you love so dearly. 

“I—I don’t know what to say.” You pathetically utter after an exorbitant amount of time, never having expected such a revelation. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You take him into your arms and he sobs against you, holding onto you tightly. "I want to have a child with you. Nothing would make me happier. You have no idea. But I'm just too scared." 

“It’s okay, baby. I don’t want to have a child right now. We can talk about it again in the future. We’ll work it out together, okay?” You pull back slightly–not stepping out of his tight embrace, not that he would’ve let you–and take his face into your hands, wiping his tears off. 

He nods pitifully. “Okay.” 

You should’ve left it at that. He’s in a bad state. You should be comforting him right now, but you’re selfish and this might be the only time he’ll open up to you, and now you have to know. 

"Did… did you love her?" 

"With all my heart." He doesn’t hesitate in answering and you feel a pang of jealousy towards his deceased lover. How fucked up, is that? "More than me?"

He is quiet for a while and every second that passes in silence tears your heart apart. 

"There is no one I love more than you." He finally says and you let out a sigh of relief that was entirely too obvious. 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. I’m being such a bitch. I’m jealous of a dead girl, how crazy is that?” You ramble nervously, but Beomgyu stops you with a kiss. 

“That’s okay, baby. I know you don’t mean it like that.” He reassures you and you sigh in relief once more. He never judges you for the messed up thoughts you sometimes get. He always understands and emphasizes and that’s part of the reason why you love him so much. 

Still you keep the rest of your questions about her to yourself. It must be a sore subject for him given how he was so protective of it before. The only thing you need to know right now is that you’re the love of his life, not her, not anyone else. You.

____________________

“He’s not trying to keep me away from you. He’s just really clingy. No, he’s not manipulating me–” Your heated defense of your boyfriend is cut off when you spot said boyfriend standing in the doorway of the kitchen where you had been taking your friend’s call so he wouldn’t overhear it. Well, so much for that.

“Oh shit, I'll call you back.” You mutter to your friend and end the call, cutting off the protests on the other line. 

“Was that Yunjin?” He asks and you nod guiltily. Yunjin doesn’t like Beomgyu. She made that very clear to the point that despite you not telling him, he knows it well. 

“She’s just being Yunjin. Don’t mind her.” You try to smooth things over but he shakes his head. “No, it’s my fault. I’m not helping things by keeping you all to myself. It’s just because I love being with you so much, you know that right?”

“I know, baby.” You walk towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love spending time with you too–hey, here’s an idea. Why don’t you come along? It would be killing two birds with one stone, hanging out with my friends while still being with you. And it’s been so long since they’ve last seen you. I’m sure once they get a look at your cute face, they’d forget all their reservations.” 

You laugh, but Beomgyu looks nervous. “I don’t know. They don’t really like me anymore.” 

“Because they don’t see much of you and you’re taking over all my attention. If they see more of you, they’d fall in love with you all over again.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure. You’re irresistible, puppy.” 

_________________________________________

And just like you said, things go well. After your friends get over the initial annoyance that you brought Beomgyu along, they start warming up to him once the conversation starts flowing and Beomgyu’s radiant personality shines through. You’ve even caught Yunjin crack a smile or two at his antics. 

But all your high hopes come crashing down when another person joins your party. The stranger’s name is Taehyun, and he’s apparently the new roommate of one of your friends, which is fine enough, he seems like a nice guy and you’ve always welcomed new additions to your group. 

Beomgyu on the other hand, must feel differently, because as soon as Taehyun joins you, his whole demeanor shifts and he becomes closed off and snappy, getting mean with his comments that were all seemingly directed at the newcomer. It was starting to ruin the mood, making your friends mad again, and so when he makes yet another snarky remark to something Taehyun innocuously said, you have to pull him aside and ask him what his problem is. 

“What the fuck are you doing, Beomgyu? My friends were just starting to warm up to you again. Why are you being such a dick?” 

“I want to go home. I don’t feel very good.” He lies, and you know it’s a lie because he doesn’t sell it very well, glaring daggers at the table where your friends are seated.

“Then go home.” You snap, having little remaining patience for his behavior. 

He gives you a look of betrayal. “You know I can’t leave without you.” 

“You’re going to have to if you can’t act like a fucking adult. The reason I invited you is because I wanted to help smooth things over between you and my friends. I wanted to prove to them that you’re not the manipulative asshole they think you are, but honestly the way you’re acting right now, makes me wonder if maybe they are right and–”

“No they’re not.” He cuts you off, lips tightly pressed together. “Fine, we'll stay.” 

“Beomgyu…” You eye him with doubt but he insists. “I’m fine. Let's go.” 

He drags you back to the table and you stop your protests so your friends can’t hear it. 

Beomgyu is quiet for a while, which doesn’t make for pleasant company, but at least he’s not being an asshole. Well, not for a bit anyway. Because once Taehyun mentions he’s looking for a job and you tell him that your place of work is hiring, Beomgyu starts acting up again.  

“I’m sure he doesn’t want to work as a barista, honey.” Beomgyu speaks over you, but Taehyun rebuts him. “I do. The hours sound good for a student like me and the work doesn’t sound too hard. It’s perfect.”

Once again, Beomgyu speaks instead of you. “But you seem like an intelligent guy. Surely serving coffee to other people would be embarrassing for you.”

“What the hell, Beomgyu?” You hiss, mortified at his implication, and in front of all your friends too. Is that what he really thinks? Does he think your job is embarrassing?

“I just mean that he could be doing something else.” 

“And what does that make me? A loser who isn’t good for anything except serving people coffee, a job you apparently think is humiliating for someone intelligent to have?” 

“You’re overthinking it, baby. I didn’t mean–”

“Oh, I didn’t think my dumb brain was capable of overthinking.” You laugh tearfully, and stand up before your friends could see you cry. “Excuse me.” 

You storm out of the restaurant and Beomgyu follows after you. 

“Baby!” 

You whip around and scream at him. “If you think what I do is so demeaning then why are you even with me?”

“I don’t think that.” He denies vehemently, “I just didn’t want him to work with you. I got bad vibes from that dude.” 

"Not this again.” You groan. Of course this is why he was behaving in such a bizarre and rude manner. Beomgyu is a jealous guy. You tried reassuring him a million times that he’s the only guy for you but to no avail. He gets paranoid and thinks every guy you interact with will steal you away from him, and here he is doing it again. “Are you seriously fucking jealous of a guy I don’t even know?"

“I am not jealous.” He tries to deny, badly. “I told you I got bad vibes from him.”

“Bad vibes?” You laugh hysterically. “If bad vibes are all it takes then I would’ve broken up with you long ago because all my friends got bad vibes from you.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Your friends hate me. They’ll say anything to tear us apart. I bet they even invited that guy just to piss me off.” 

"Oh my god, are you listening to yourself? You’re so–ugh, just please leave me alone, Beomgyu." You try to walk away from him but he quickly reaches out and grabs you by the arm, turning you around to face him, freaked out. "No, please stay."

"Let me go, Beomgyu." You demand, your anger bubbling to dangerous level but Beomgyu stand firm. “No. You can’t leave me.”

“Let me go.” 

“No.” 

“I’m serious, Beomgyu. Leave me the fuck alone.” 

“No.”

You can’t help it. He’s driving you insane, and you can’t hold back anymore. You slap him. 

But you immediately regret it when you see the red mark beginning to bloom across his cheek. 

"Oh god, I'm so sorry. You just drive me–" He kisses you passionately, holding onto you even tighter. 

"Do anything you want to me, I don’t mind. Just don't leave me." He breathes against your lips, eyes looking crazed in their desperation. 

God, this is sick. You shouldn’t entertain this kind of twisted trade-off. You should push him away and demand he leave you be. You shouldn’t take him up on his offer to let you unload your frustrations physically onto him. Maybe you should even end it…

But you can’t. You’re as invested in this as he is. You don’t want to break up with him. You don’t want to leave him. You just want to punish him for the crazy way he’s behaving. You want to feel like you’re not letting him get away with this without actually having to break up with him .

And so you accept his sick offer.

_______________________________

"You're so pathetic, Beomgyu." 

He shudders at your words, and you don’t know if he likes it or hates it. All you know is he tries to reach out to you but his hands are held back by the bindings you’ve fashioned out of your scarves. 

He cries out for you but you have no mercy for him. This is the punishment he chose for himself and you’ll be damned if you don’t make the most of it. 

“You’ve really pissed me off this time, Beomgyu. Acted so crazy just so I wouldn’t leave you. Well, now you get to sit back and watch me fuck myself and you can do nothing about it.” You taunt him as you ride the dildo you have strapped around his abdomen, his own cock brushing up against your ass every time you move, getting enough stimulation to keep him hard but not nearly enough to get him off. 

"Please, sit on my cock. It feels better than that plastic toy. I'm all hard and ready for you. Ride me, please. Cum on my dick. Use me instead of that toy." He babbles, but you don’t listen. 

You want to make him suffer, and you’re scared to dwell too long on where that emotion comes from. You love your boyfriend. You’ve never wanted to hurt him before, but he really pushed you too far this time. 

"You did this. You’re making me do this to you. You’re being a terrible boyfriend." 

"No, don’t say that.” He shakes his head vehemently, getting teary. “I'm sorry. I’ll do anything to make it better. Whatever you want." 

"Will you let him work with me?" You hazard to ask and his face immediately transforms. "No." 

You scoff–so much for being apologetic–and ride the dildo faster, moaning out loud just to piss him off. You see him struggling and feel him trying to buck his hips against you but he can’t accomplish much more than his cock just grazing your ass. 

Still, you can feel the wetness from the precum touching your skin. “You’re fucking ridiculous.” 

“You just don’t know what you are to me.” He counters, leaving you speechless. One thing about Beomgyu is that he will never fail to tell you just how much you mean to him. It’s why you’ve always been so weak when it comes to him. 

But that doesn’t mean you can’t punish him for his behavior. “Clearly not much if you don’t even trust me to work with him.” 

“You don’t know.” He insists, but doesn’t deny your claim which pisses you off even more. 

“Don’t know what? That you think I’ll cheat on you if given the slightest chance? Is that something she did to you? Is that why you’re so fucked up?”

His silence is all you need to know, and you don’t know if you should feel bad for him that the woman he loved so much cheated on him, or angry that he assumes you would do the same just because she did. 

“Fuck you, Beomgyu.” The two emotions mix together and fuel you further, and you put your hand between your legs to touch yourself, getting yourself off if only just to spite him, knowing how much he needs to always be the cause of your pleasure. 

“Baby, please.” He begs, seeing you inch closer to your end, and it’s killing him that he’s not the reason for it. Little does he know that his desperation and blinding need for you is the greatest contributor to your impending fall over the edge. 

But you don’t let him know that, jumping erratically on the dildo and attacking your poor clit with your fingers, sending yourself off on the most emotionally exhausting orgasm of your life. 

“Baby…” You can hear him whimper pitifully in the background, his shape blurry in front of you as you fight off your own tears. “Baby…”

“What is it?” You hiss after your orgasm passes, anger finally overpowering the lust. “Do you want to cum? Is that what you’re concerned about? Your dick?”

“That’s not it.” He tries to deny it but you’re already untying him. And despite his denial, as soon as his hands are free, he tries to reach out to grab you but you take his hands and forcefully pull them off your body. He tries to fight you but you hiss sharply at him, "Stay." 

He whimpers but listens, and when he looks like he won’t go back on his words, you let go of his hands. "Touch yourself."

"I want you to touch me." He whines and you slap his thigh. "You don't get to make demands. Not after the way you behaved in front of my friends. You embarrassed me!"

"I'm sorry." He mewls, one hand going to his dick and the other playing with his nipples, putting on a show for you, needing to gain your favor once again. Which is precisely why you lean over him to grab your phone from the night stand and unlock it, pretending to be scrolling through it as he jerks off. 

“Baby!” He protests heatedly, reaching out to touch you. Beomgyu fucking hates it when you don’t give him any attention. He withers without it.  

“Did I say you could touch me?” You seethe, not bothering to take his hands off this time, opting instead to intimidate him into it, and thankfully he retracts his hands at your tone as if it had burned him. 

“Keep jerking off.” You instruct, and as soon as he does, you go back to looking at your phone. 

"Look at me." He whines, but doesn’t stop this time. You can hear the wet sounds of his hand moving over his cock and see the movement out of the corner of your eyes.

“Please.” 

You ignore him. 

“Just look at me.” 

You keep looking at your phone. 

"Princess…."

You snap your head up, narrowing your eyes at him. He never called you that. In fact, he almost makes it a point not to call you that so he wouldn’t “feed into your prince delusion”. So for him to say that right now was really low. Not that Beomgyu cared, as long as he had your attention. 

"Yeah, yeah, that's it." He moans, thrusting into his fist.

Maybe it's sick. Maybe you're enabling his behavior but god, was it so sexy to have him so completely obsessed with you that just your gaze is enough to get him off. 

“Is this what you want, Beomgyu? For me to look at you and see how you’re such a pathetic slut that you can’t even get off without me giving you my attention?” 

Beomgyu doesn’t even try to deny it, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes. Never want you to look away from me. I missed you so much.” He hiccups, thrusting up into his tight fist. 

Here he goes again, talking about how much he misses you. You’re sure if you spend every single second of your life with him he’d still complain about missing you. You can’t call him out too much on it though–not when you feel the same, not when you thrive on it. 

“Can I cum?” Beomgyu asks breathlessly and you sneer down at him. “No.” 

He lets out a heart-broken moan, hand clenching at your thigh. “No. Please. Need to cum.”

"You don't deserve it. Stop." You say cooly, and he wails. "Please. I need to cum. I can’t–I can’t.”

His voice gets high and breathy, strung out, but you don’t care. No, you relish in it, knowing what you’ll make him do next. "Stop."

He cries out, shaking his head violently, not stopping. "No. No. I need it."

You can see how close he is. You can see his cock flushing red, his balls tightening and his precum pouring out of his head. You have to put a stop to it, physically removing his hands yourself, but as soon as you touch him he loses it, staining your belly with his cum. 

"Ah--ah--oh god–please touch me–please." He bucks his hips in the air, unable to reach you, and cries, tears pouring down his face. "I love you. I love you. Please use me. Please don't leave me.” 

You've never been this rough with Beomgyu and for a second you wonder if you're going too far, but he looks so fucked out by the way you’re being mean to him that you can’t back down now.

Still he is your sweetheart. He’ll always be your sweetheart and you can’t bear to see him in such distress, even if he brought it onto himself with his jealous and obsessive ways.

"Hush, Beomgyu." You murmur, grabbing his dick and jerking him off. He gasps from the overstimulation, his hooded eyes blowing wide as he grabs onto the sheets, but he doesn’t stop you, thrusting his hips up into your grip instead. 

"Ah–oh fuck–AHH–" 

"Cum for me, Beomgyu." Your hand blurs over his cock, wet slapping sounds filling the room as your fist collides with his balls on each downstroke. 

"Yes–princess–all for you." If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve found the sound of him calling you ‘princess’ the most natural thing in the world. As if he had always done it. As if he truly believes it. 

But it’s all just to get you to give him what he wants, and sadly, it works. You’re as weak for him as he is for you. It’s unhealthy–is what your friends have told you after his charms have worn off in their eyes, but you fear it would never wear off for you. You’re absolutely, sickeningly in love with him and that’s why you’ll always make excuses to let him do the crazy things he does to you and for you. 

And the things you do to him. 

Beomgyu looks spent after his orgasm and he tries to pull you down in his arms to cuddle, but you stop him. 

"Wait a second." You say, grabbing a few tissues and wiping yourselves off. 

His hold on you remains so tight you feel his heart beat furiously against your chest. "I'm sorry for what I’ve said. I just don't want you to work with him."

You look up at him, mind a little clearer now that you’re all wrapped up in his warmth, feeling safe in his embrace. 

"I will work with him. You need to get over your jealousy. I've had enough." You inform him simply. Yes, you’ve done nothing but entertain his delusions so far, but it’s high time for you to starting actually doing something about it. You know you’ll only be ruining yourself later if you don’t. Who knows what he’ll demand next if you let this go. For you to not talk to other men? To stop seeing your friends who are trying to tear you apart? To quit your job so you’d always be around him? No, you have to put your foot down now. 

Beomgyu looks so pissed off at what you’ve said, but he doesn’t say anything. He just holds you tightly, burying his face in your neck and gripping onto you so hard, you’re sure his fingers will leave marks. That’s fine. You’ll just wear something to cover the bruises. Just as long as you make this work. 

________________________________________

That night, you have another dream about prince Beomgyu, but this time a new character makes an appearance, and that is Lord Taehyun. 

"What are you doing here?" Dream Beomgyu bursts into your room, finding you and Taehyun together. 

"I came to visit the lady." Taehyun’s demeanor appears relaxed but you can see the tension around the edges of his mouth.

"Beomgyu, relax–" You try to calm him down, and he turns on you. "How long has he been here? Did he do anything to you?" 

“No, we just talked!” You snap, trying to yank your hand back from him but his grip is bruisingly-tight.“How did he get in?” 

“That’s none of your business.” You refuse to tell him but that just sets him off.

“You are my business.” He shouts, making Taehyun get up, “Let her go. You’re hurting her.” 

“Fuck you.” Beomgyu was becoming aggressive, and Taehyun looked quite on edge himself. You knew you had to be the one to de-escalate this situation before it exploded so you step closer to Beomgyu and hiss in his ear. “Get a grip, Beomgyu.” You hiss lowly at him then turn to Taehyun with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Taehyun. I need to talk to Beomgyu privately.” 

The dream ends there, and when you wake up in the morning, you make no mention of it to Beomgyu.

_____________________

A/N: Well its' finally here folks. Don't know how many chapter this will be but I hope you like it anyway.

[just-jordie-things]

indulge me for a second here (at ur own time ofc)

megumi breaks up w reader for reasons (wants to focus on training or sum) but reader starts acting a lill crazy especially when she thinks he might be seeing other women. She's txting him, sending suggestive pics, flirting, cockblocking other women- just the usual, you know?

Then she stops.

Leaving megumi with a whole crisis. Didn't he want this? Why is he missing all her attention? Why is she giving *his* attention to other guys?

I just want that toji and gojo side of him to flare up and chase the reader all over again 😇😇😇😇

AAAHHH YES i need to add more toxicity to my fics bc lets be real we'd all behave like this to get him back :3

kinda feel like this could be a prequel to the blurb i wrote about ex bf!megumi cockblocking you n trying to win you back

suggestive content under the cut but no smut ___

you're a good girl, definitely better than this, but to be honest he left you no choice, didn't he?

how else were you supposed to get his attention? it's not like those other girls had anything to offer him, so you just had to... give him a reminder of what he had, and that he could have it again if he stopped being a man slut and crawled right back to you where he belonged.

(was he really being a man slut? you couldn't actually know... all you knew was what you heard from rumors. but that was enough to warrant all of this... wasn't it?)

you didn't care how much money you spent on pretty lacey sets, or how much time you spent draping yourself in the most inviting poses you could come up until your my eyes only album was overflowing with tasteful nudes. and every single one of them was sent to him.

there wasn't an ounce of humiliation in your body, sending nudes and other suggestive photos/videos to your ex-boyfriend. you were sure that eventually he would be swayed... if it wasn't by baby pink then maybe an angelic white... or classic red.... to you, this was just a means to an end. eventually he'd understand what he was missing and he'd come back begging to get back together.

when he doesn't realize his mistake after a month of spamming his phone... you lose interest. naturally, of course. if he could look at all those photos, watch all those videos to completion, and still not want you back? well, that was his loss.

truthfully, you got bored. and at some point you came to the realization that there were other hot, single, desperate guys out there who would love a glimpse of what was wasted on megumi. so you steered your attention in another direction and almost forgot about your ex completely.

well, you forgot about him until he started showing up around you all the time.

at first it was the bars, anywhere you spent your time with nightlife, he was bound to show up there. whether you were drinking or dancing, or just sitting in a booth wrapped up in the company of someone else, megumi was there to see it.

you might've moved on, but you weren't oblivious. you saw him. you just didn't seem to care. never giving him more than a passing glance before your attention was returned to whoever was lucky enough to get it tonight. megumi's not sure he ever saw you with the same guy twice

even when he moved on to stalking your other hangouts. like the coffee shop you frequented most days of the week. once he started seeing your distraction of the night coming in with you on their arm in the mornings, too, megumi started to lose his mind.

what was the point of all those messages you sent? all the photos with your body on display for him attached with 'thinking of you' or a little kiss emoji- those were all just for him, weren't they? and now you're parading around with every willing guy you find?

megumi's in denial. this wasn't like you, you didn't play games, you weren't a slut, so what was your goal here?

if it was to drive him crazy, you most definitely had the upper hand. but he was determined that it wouldn't last for long.

you wanted to play shitty games? fine, megumi could play shitty games. he'll make sure you come to regret getting over him so easily.

[lightdancingwords]

One Day - Part Seven of ?

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character Series Summary: You were rescued by Dean Winchester a long time ago. Over time, you kept bumping into each other.

Word Count: 4,070

Tags/Warnings: 18+ smut, fluff, angst, maybe language

A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Enjoy the ride!

Dividers: credit to @talesmaniac89

Chapter Seven: Do I Stay Or Do I Go?

Y/N sat at the kitchen table, staring into her tea as the steam curled upward in lazy swirls. The bunker was quiet, as it often was, the faint hum of the lights the only sound. It should have been comforting—a sanctuary of safety after the chaos she’d been through—but instead, it made her feel restless.

She ran her fingers along the edge of the mug, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She was healed, or as close to it as she could be, and the logical part of her brain told her it was time to move on. That’s what she did, right? She hunted, she helped, and then she left. No attachments. No strings. It was safer that way—for everyone.

But this time, it felt different.

She glanced around the kitchen, her eyes lingering on the little details that made the bunker feel alive. Sam’s stack of open books on the table, his meticulous notes scattered across the pages. Dean’s half-empty bottle of beer on the counter, next to a plate of leftover pie. These small signs of life, of normalcy, were things she didn’t have in her own world. She’d spent so much time on the road, living out of motels and her car, that she’d almost forgotten what it was like to feel rooted somewhere.

But was it enough to stay?

The idea of staying scared her more than leaving. Staying meant risking connections, and connections meant vulnerability. She’d seen firsthand what happened when you cared too much in this line of work. People died. Or they left. Either way, it hurt.

Her thoughts turned to Dean, as they so often did. He was a walking contradiction—gruff and guarded one moment, tender and vulnerable the next. She’d seen the way he hovered around her after the rescue, his worry barely hidden beneath a layer of sarcasm. And she’d seen the way his eyes softened when he thought she wasn’t looking, like he was afraid she might disappear.

Y/N sighed, rubbing her temples. She cared about him more than she wanted to admit. But caring about Dean Winchester was dangerous. He was the kind of man who would throw himself in front of a bullet for someone he loved, the kind of man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. Staying would mean becoming part of that weight. Was she ready for that?

She wasn’t sure.

The sound of footsteps pulled her from her thoughts. She looked up to see Sam entering the kitchen, his easy smile softening the tension in her chest.

“Morning,” he said, grabbing a mug from the counter and filling it with coffee.

“Morning,” she replied, forcing a small smile.

Sam leaned against the counter, his mug cradled in his hands as he studied her. “You okay?”

Y/N hesitated, then sighed. “Just… thinking.”

“About staying?” he asked, his tone calm but direct.

Her eyebrows shot up. “How do you do that?”

He chuckled, setting his mug down. “I’ve had years of practice with Dean. You’re not as hard to read as you think.”

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. “Yeah, well, I don’t know what I’m doing, Sam. Staying feels… complicated.”

“Complicated how?” he asked, his voice gentle.

She gestured vaguely with her hands. “All of it. Being here, with you guys. I mean, I’ve spent so much time on my own, doing my own thing. I’m not sure I fit into this whole… team dynamic.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully. “I get that. But, Y/N, you’re not giving yourself enough credit. You do fit. You just don’t see it yet.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Sam said with conviction. “You’ve been through hell, and you’re still standing. That takes strength. And you’ve got a good heart. You care about people. That’s what makes you good at this.”

Y/N looked away, her fingers tightening around her mug. “Caring is dangerous.”

“Yeah,” Sam admitted, his voice softening. “But it’s also what keeps us human.”

Y/N let his words sink in, her chest tightening. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for this long-term.”

“Maybe you are,” Sam countered, his gaze steady. “And maybe you’re just scared.”

She frowned, but there was no malice in his words, only understanding. “Maybe.”

Sam tilted his head slightly, watching her closely. “You should talk to Dean.”

Y/N let out a dry laugh. “Right, because he’s so great at heart-to-hearts.”

Sam grinned. “He’s better at it than you think. When it matters, he’ll talk. You just have to push him a little.”

Her lips quirked into a small smile, but her mind was still spinning. Could she stay? Could she let herself trust this—trust them? The thought of leaving felt hollow, but the thought of staying terrified her.

“I’ll think about it,” she said finally, her voice quiet.

Sam gave her a reassuring smile, as if he knew the answer she hadn’t yet said aloud. “Take your time. But don’t sell yourself short, Y/N. You belong here more than you realize.”

He grabbed his coffee and left her alone with her thoughts, but his words lingered. Y/N stared into her tea again, the weight of the decision pressing heavily on her chest. She wanted to stay. She just wasn’t sure if she was brave enough to take the risk.

Dean was in the garage, elbows deep under the Impala’s hood. The rhythmic sound of tools scraping against metal was the only thing keeping his mind steady. He’d been here for over an hour, tinkering with nothing in particular. It wasn’t about fixing the car—it was about avoiding the storm brewing in his chest.

He tightened a bolt, maybe too hard, and the wrench slipped from his grip, clanging onto the concrete floor. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand.

“You good?” Sam’s voice cut through the quiet.

Dean straightened, his shoulders tensing. “What do you want, Sam?” he grumbled, not looking up.

Sam stepped into the garage, leaning casually against the workbench. “Y/N,” he said simply. “She’s thinking about leaving.”

The words hit like a sucker punch. Dean froze, his jaw tightening as his heart skipped a beat. “She tell you that?”

“Not exactly,” Sam admitted. “But she’s on the fence. You can see it in the way she’s been acting. And you’ve noticed it too, haven’t you?”

Dean exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “So what? It’s her call.”

Sam crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. “You’re just gonna let her go?”

“What the hell am I supposed to do, Sam?” Dean snapped, finally meeting his brother’s gaze. “Beg her to stay? Tell her she can’t leave because I’m too screwed up to handle it?”

Sam didn’t flinch at Dean’s sharp tone. Instead, he softened his voice. “Dean, it’s not about begging. It’s about being honest with her. Telling her how you feel.”

Dean let out a humorless laugh, grabbing a rag and wiping his hands. “Yeah, ‘cause I’m so good at that.”

Sam pushed off the workbench, taking a step closer. “You don’t have to be perfect, Dean. You just have to be real. She cares about you. Hell, anyone with eyes can see it. But she’s scared, and if you don’t say something, she’s gonna think you don’t care.”

Dean threw the rag onto the workbench, his hands gripping the edge like it was the only thing holding him together. “What if I screw it up, Sam?” His voice was quieter now, almost broken. “What if I say the wrong thing, and she leaves anyway? What if—what if she stays, and I can’t keep her safe?”

Sam frowned, his heart aching at the vulnerability in Dean’s voice. “You can’t live like that, Dean. You can’t keep everyone at arm’s length because you’re afraid of losing them. That’s not living.”

Dean shook his head, his grip tightening. “I don’t know how to do this, man. I don’t know how to tell her that I…” He trailed off, his throat tightening around the words he couldn’t bring himself to say.

“That you what?” Sam pressed gently.

“That I need her,” Dean admitted finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “That I don’t want her to go. That the thought of her walking out of here makes me feel like I’m gonna lose my goddamn mind.”

Sam stepped closer, resting a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Then tell her that. She deserves to know, and you deserve a chance to be happy.”

Dean huffed out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple, Sam.”

“It never is,” Sam agreed. “But you’ve faced worse. This? This is just about being honest. And yeah, it’s scary. But if anyone’s worth it, it’s her.”

Dean’s lips twitched into a half-smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “When did you get so smart?”

Sam grinned. “Someone had to be.”

Dean chuckled softly, but the weight in his chest didn’t lift completely. “What if she doesn’t stay, Sammy? What if I tell her, and it’s not enough?”

Sam’s expression turned serious, his voice steady. “Then at least you’ll know you tried. But I don’t think she’s going anywhere, Dean. Not if you give her a reason to stay.”

Dean nodded slowly, the knot in his stomach tightening as he wrestled with his fear. “Guess I better figure out what to say.”

Sam clapped him on the shoulder, a small smile on his face. “You’ll figure it out. Just be yourself. She already cares about you—flaws and all.”

As Sam left the garage, Dean slumped against the Impala, his hands trembling slightly. He hated feeling like this—so unsure, so vulnerable. But deep down, he knew Sam was right. If he didn’t say something, he’d regret it forever.

“Get it together, Winchester,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. But the thought of losing Y/N still loomed large, a fear he wasn’t sure he could face.

Dean paced the hallway outside the library, his boots scuffing against the smooth floor as he tried to steady his breathing. His hands fidgeted—one moment adjusting the buttons on his flannel, the next running through his hair. He hated this. Hated the way his chest felt too tight, like he couldn’t quite catch his breath.

Just go in there, dumbass, he told himself. But his feet refused to move.

What if he said the wrong thing? What if he laid it all out there, and she still decided to leave? Worse, what if she stayed, but only out of pity? The thought twisted his stomach into knots. Vulnerability wasn’t something Dean Winchester did well—or at all, really. It went against everything he’d learned growing up: how to be tough, how to bury your feelings, how to put the mission first.

He leaned against the wall, letting his head thud lightly against the cool surface. “This is stupid,” he muttered under his breath. “She’s just a person. Not a damn werewolf.”

But that wasn’t true, was it? Y/N wasn’t just a person. She wasn’t just another hunter or someone passing through his life like so many others had. She mattered. To him. More than he wanted to admit, even to himself.

And that was the problem.

Caring about her made him feel exposed. Weak. It was dangerous—because if he cared, if he let her in, that meant he could lose her. And losing people was something Dean knew too well. It was the story of his life. Everyone he cared about eventually left—either by choice or by death. His mom. His dad. Friends. Hunters he’d fought beside. Even Sam, in a way, when he’d gone to Stanford. Everyone left.

Why would Y/N be any different?

He let out a harsh laugh, his hands gripping the edge of the wall. “What the hell am I even doing?” he muttered. “She deserves better than this. Better than me.”

But the thought of her leaving—the thought of walking into the library and finding her gone—was unbearable. His chest tightened, and for a brief, terrifying moment, he couldn’t breathe.

He pushed off the wall, forcing himself to take a few steps closer to the library door. He could see her through the crack, sitting at the table, her face partially obscured by the book she was reading. She looked so calm, so put together. How did she make it look so easy?

Dean let out a shaky breath, rubbing a hand over his face. He wasn’t calm. He wasn’t put together. Hell, he was falling apart just standing here. But he couldn’t avoid this. Not anymore.

“Get it together, Winchester,” he muttered, giving himself a mental kick. “You’ve faced demons. Vampires. Hell itself. You can do this.”

But could he? This wasn’t like fighting monsters. It wasn’t black and white, life or death. This was messy and complicated, and it meant putting himself out there in a way he hadn’t since… well, maybe ever. It meant trusting someone to stay, even when every part of him screamed that they wouldn’t.

Dean gripped the doorframe, his knuckles turning white. He thought of Sam’s words in the garage: You can’t keep everyone at arm’s length because you’re afraid of losing them. That’s not living.

Maybe Sam was right. Maybe it was time to stop running, to stop hiding behind walls and bravado. Maybe it was time to take a chance.

With one last steadying breath, Dean pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Dean found Y/N in the library, sitting at one of the long oak tables with a book in her hands. She looked calm, flipping through the pages, but he could see the faint furrow in her brow, the way her fingers absently tapped the edge of the book. She wasn’t as calm as she seemed.

He stood in the doorway for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. His mouth was dry, and his palms were sweating—this wasn’t a monster he could fight or a problem he could solve with a wrench. This was something far more terrifying: baring himself, leaving his heart exposed.

“Dean?” Y/N’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. She’d noticed him standing there, her head tilted slightly. “You okay?”

He swallowed hard, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as he stepped into the room. “Yeah, I, uh…” He trailed off, his gaze darting around the room before finally landing on her. “Can we talk?”

She closed the book and set it aside, her brow furrowing in curiosity. “Sure. What’s up?”

Dean hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His throat felt tight, the words he’d practiced on the way here now feeling impossible to say. “Sam… uh, Sam said you’re thinking about leaving.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “He told you that?”

Dean nodded, his jaw tightening as he looked down at the floor. “Yeah.”

There was a long pause, and when he finally glanced up, she was studying him carefully. “I haven’t decided yet,” she said softly. “I’m just… trying to figure things out.”

“Figure what out?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost afraid of the answer.

Y/N sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Whether I belong here. Whether this is… the right place for me.”

Dean clenched his fists in his pockets, the knot in his chest tightening. He took a slow breath, trying to steady himself. “You do belong here,” he said, his voice rough. “You’re good here.”

She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Am I? Because I don’t feel like I’ve done much besides get myself into trouble.”

“That’s not true,” Dean said quickly, stepping closer. “You’re… you’re strong. And smart. And you’ve got guts. You’ve been through hell, and you’re still standing. That’s more than a lot of people can say.”

Y/N blinked at him, clearly taken aback by his words. “Dean…”

He shook his head, cutting her off. “I know I’m not good at this, okay? Talking. Saying what I mean. But I need you to know… I don’t want you to go.”

The silence that followed felt deafening. Dean’s chest was tight, his breathing shallow as he waited for her to say something, anything.

“Why?” she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, his throat working as he tried to force the words out. “Because…” He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky breath. “Because I care about you, Y/N. And the thought of you walking out of here… I can’t handle it.”

Her eyes softened, but she didn’t interrupt, letting him keep going.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m scared of screwing this up. Of losing you. I don’t… I don’t know how to do this. How to be the kind of guy who deserves someone like you. But I know I want you to stay. I want you here. With me.”

Y/N’s breath caught, her heart twisting at the raw vulnerability in his voice. She’d seen Dean in a lot of states—angry, determined, broken—but this was different. This was him stripped bare, his walls crumbling as he laid everything on the table.

“Dean…” She stood slowly, stepping around the table to stand in front of him. “You don’t have to be perfect, you know. I don’t need you to have all the answers.”

He looked at her, his green eyes filled with uncertainty and a flicker of hope. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You won’t,” she said softly, reaching out to take his hand. Her fingers laced with his, grounding him. “I’m scared too. But maybe… maybe we don’t have to figure it all out right now. Maybe we just… try.”

Dean swallowed hard, his hand tightening around hers. “You mean that?”

She nodded, her lips curving into a small smile. “Yeah. I do.”

Relief flooded his face, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He let out a shaky laugh, his free hand coming up to cup her cheek. “You’re a lot braver than me.”

“Not really,” she said, leaning into his touch. “I’m just better at pretending.”

He smiled, his thumb brushing gently across her cheek. “So… you’re staying?”

“I’m staying,” she confirmed, her voice steady. “If you’ll have me.”

Dean didn’t answer with words. Instead, he leaned in, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was both tender and desperate, as if he were afraid this might all disappear.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads resting together, Dean whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?” she asked, her voice just as soft.

“For not giving up on me,” he said. “For staying.”

Y/N smiled, her fingers brushing through his hair. “Always.”

Y/N held Dean’s gaze for a long moment, her hand still wrapped in his. His vulnerability was written all over his face—hope, fear, and something deeper that made her chest ache. She reached up with her free hand, brushing her fingers along his jawline, her touch soft and grounding.

“Come with me,” she said, her voice low and steady.

Dean blinked, his brows furrowing slightly. “What?”

“Come with me,” she repeated, tugging gently on his hand. Her lips curved into a small, reassuring smile. “Let me take care of you for once.”

Dean hesitated, the weight of everything he’d just confessed still sitting heavy on his chest. “Y/N, I—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” she interrupted, her tone gentle but firm. “Just trust me.”

He searched her eyes for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest. Finally, he nodded, letting her guide him down the hallway toward her room. The bunker’s dim lighting cast soft shadows on the walls, and with every step, Dean felt his nerves buzzing. It wasn’t fear—it was anticipation, mixed with an overwhelming sense of gratitude that she was still here. That she’d chosen to stay.

When they reached her room, Y/N pushed the door open and led him inside, her hand never leaving his. She shut the door behind them, leaning against it for a moment as she looked up at him. The air between them was thick with unspoken emotion, but neither of them moved to fill the silence with words. They didn’t need to.

Y/N stepped closer, her fingers trailing up his arm until they rested on his chest. “Dean,” she murmured, her voice soft and full of warmth. “You don’t have to be anyone but yourself. That’s all I need.”

He swallowed hard, his hands instinctively coming to rest on her waist. “I don’t want to screw this up,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You won’t,” she said, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. It was gentle at first, her way of reminding him that they were in this together. But when he kissed her back, it deepened, the desperation in his touch revealing just how much he needed her.

Dean’s hands slid around her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss grew more fervent. His fingers splayed against the small of her back, grounding himself in the feel of her. Y/N’s hands moved to his shoulders, her fingers threading through the soft fabric of his flannel before sliding up to tangle in his hair.

As they moved toward the bed, their lips never parted. Dean’s heart pounded in his chest, not from lust alone, but from the sheer weight of what this moment meant. This wasn’t just a distraction or a fleeting connection—this was him letting someone in, fully and completely.

Y/N reached for the buttons on his shirt, her fingers working deftly to undo them. Dean watched her, his breath hitching as she pushed the fabric off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Her hands traced over his chest, her touch leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. His hands found the hem of her shirt, hesitating for a moment as he searched her eyes. She nodded, her trust in him evident as she raised her arms, allowing him to pull the fabric over her head.

He took a moment to take her in, his green eyes filled with something reverent and unspoken. “You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice thick.

She smiled, stepping closer and placing her hands on his chest again. “So are you,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him again.

They moved together with an unspoken rhythm, shedding the rest of their clothes piece by piece until they were tangled together on the bed. Dean’s touch was both tender and desperate, his hands roaming her body as if trying to memorize every curve, every detail. Y/N responded in kind, her fingers tracing the lines of his shoulders and back, grounding him in her touch.

When their bodies finally joined, it was a moment of pure connection. Dean’s forehead rested against hers, their breaths mingling as they moved together. There was no hesitation, no fear—just the overwhelming sense that this was exactly where they were meant to be.

“Dean,” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. Her hands cupped his face, her thumbs brushing over the scruff of his jaw. “You’re enough. Always.”

Her words broke something in him, and he pressed his lips to hers, his movements growing more urgent. It wasn’t just passion—it was gratitude, love, and the desperate need to hold onto her.

Their movements slowed as they reached their peak together, and when they finally stilled, Dean collapsed against her, his body trembling from the intensity of the moment. Y/N wrapped her arms around him, her fingers threading through his hair as she held him close.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Dean’s head rested against her chest, his breathing slowly evening out as he let himself be vulnerable in her embrace. Y/N pressed a kiss to his temple, her hands moving soothingly along his back.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

Dean nodded, his voice rough as he replied, “Yeah. I am.”

She smiled, her fingers brushing through his hair. “Good.”

They stayed like that for a while, tangled together in the quiet of the room. For the first time in a long time, Dean felt something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years: peace.

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