#god it’s been a while since i’ve gone off in the tags like this

[dear-galileo]

tumblr just did a really good job of making me want to never pick up my phone again (aka making me go to sleep instead of dicking around on my phone) by recommending me not only a beatles tumblr blog but a rpf beatles tumblr blog

[avtrbee]

the prince

✢summary: what happens when your husband brings home a son that is not yours?

✢tags: arranged marriage gojo satoru x reader, reader is a clan kid, she’s v traditional, obvious cat and jon snow references

✢tw: implications of cheating, mentioned abuse, misogyny ig

✢ a/n: i’m not gonna lie to you guys, i know i’ve been a while and im really ashamed that i come back with something that i believe this isn’t my best work at all. i had this prompt in my head for a long time and i have wanted to publish this ever since. always love hearing from all of you and i’d like to get some feedback as well <33

You were a clan kid fortunate enough to be born with the clan’s cursed technique but unfortunate enough to be a woman. Your childhood tutors had drilled the duties of wives in your head, and had made you comfortable with the idea of an arranged marriage. You pride yourself as a good traditional daughter, whose greatest honor would be marrying your husband.

Never in your life did you imagine yourself caring for a child that is not yours.

That was, of course, until you met your husband.

You have heard of Gojo Satoru before and fought him a few times during sister-school events, but never in your life did you think he’d be who you were destined for. Still, he surprised you.

“You are my wife, my equal,” he promises you at the night of your wedding. The ceremony was over and the guests have gone home. You have said your vows in front of the gods and they have bounded you to this man.

He drags you off to bed and makes you sit on the floor with him.

Satoru looks at you with the moon shining on him making him look like an ethereal god. And to you, he was. Which is why you tilt your head at his statement. “Gojo-sama, I do not understand-”

“Satoru,” he says. “I am your husband, you should call me by my name y’know.” His voice is light and teasing, underplaying the reality of the situation. “I don’t want a slave. I want a confidant. A partner. I need someone. Do you understand?”

You nod. Strangely you do. “We must protect each other.”

You were both very lonely people thrust into a union none of you asked for. There are targets on your backs for sins you cannot control. You were alone, but not anymore.

Your husband nods and he takes his glasses off. You realize for the nth time that Satoru is a pretty, pretty man. His blue eyes shine and twinkle like the stars above.

He reaches for your hand- a strange gesture but you allow it anyway. “I will do right by you,” he promises. In his mind he remembers his mother, the one who loves too much but is loved so less. Like her, Satoru’s marriage is arranged by the clan. But he will not be his father.

He is a man of his word.

The next morning you find yourself waking to an empty bed with a smell of burning food. You catch your husband defeated before the stove with burnt scrambled egg on the table. “This is what couples do, right?”

You stare at him, simply horrified that you had failed to wake up first. You were supposed to cook him breakfast, not the other way around.

Satoru catches your expression. “Hey! It’s not that bad!” He pokes the pathetic excuse of a scrambled egg. His mother had always cooked for the family, it shouldn’t have been this hard. “…right?”

You ban him from your kitchen.

He takes you to the school next. You walk behind him, as is the norm, but Satoru makes a face that pushes you to stay beside him. His voice echoes in your head, you are my wife, my equal.

The weather was perfect, but he fusses about the fact that you decided to wear a sleeveless sundress that he deems inappropriate for the wind.

“Are you sure you’re not cold?”

“Yes, Satoru.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow suspiciously, like he does not believe you. He reaches over and takes your hand in his. His face morphs to an expression of victory. “Ha! Your hands are cold. You’re such a bad liar, Y/N.” He spits, but his voice lacks venom. You pretend to ignore his poor excuse to hold your hand. Deep inside you like it. Romance is for fiction and some anime you were lucky enough to watch. A distinguished member of your the Gojo clan does not deserve it, but your husband is a romantic.

He stops you from walking out of the shade of the trees and into the sunshine. He opens his tote bag and points to a closed umbrella. “Do you need this? To protect you from- y’know.”

His points up to the sun.

Against your will you find his needless worrying endearing. He does not know his role as a husband well, but he is trying. When you finally arrive inside the Tokyo school, his hand is still clasped in your. Satoru is loud and proud when he introduces you to everyone, even if you have done nothing to deserve such pride. His co-workers pity you for being married to him and offer their condolences. Satoru protests strongly.

“Y/N loves spending time with me!” he says, stomping his feet like a child. He tugs your hand and looks at you in support. “Right?”

You smile and nod. You do. You wonder if you may love him someday.

-

The night is dark, and Satoru is not home yet. It has been a slow 8 months since your marriage. The ladies from your clan were wrong. Your husband is not cruel. He does not scold you if you use your cursed technique even when you accidentally use it on him.

You have never been someone good with words, so you decide to bake him a simple carrot cake. Your husband has a sweet tooth and he has a penchant of liking things better if it came from you.

You had only just finished adding icing the cake when you felt Satoru’s cursed energy through the door. You take a look at your cake one last time before heading towards the door to greet him.

Traditionally a wife must wait for her husband to enter in the middle of the room kneeling for supplication- a tradition most ingrained in your head more than most. As a compromise, Satoru suggested to have you greet him by the door instead because- “The first thing I want to see when I get home is your cute face. Obviously.”

You dust off imaginary crumbs off your hands by wiping it on your pants before sliding the door open.

“Welcome ho-”

In front of you, Satoru looks cold. You wonder if this is how others see him. He looks down at you with a cold gaze, He does not tremble. There is a child in his arms.

Both child and Satoru looks at you with twin cold eyes. You shiver. “He’s mine.”

You hear maids scuffle from behind you, but you do not care. The child innocently rests his cheek on Satoru’s shoulder looking at you.

There is no doubt the child is his. Your husband’s hair is on his head and dear god- their eyes. They have the same eyes.

In your head you hear the ladies of your clan again. Stand tall, Y/N. They may have their mistresses, but you will always be his true wife.

Of course you knew about Satoru’s womanizer past- present. Are you upset? Are you angry? You do not know, truly. You are simply confused.

Your clan’s ladies have prepared you for worst; what to do when your husband brings home another woman, what to say if they came home violent, where to go if you are too broken and beaten to sleep beside him. But what if your husband brings home a son that is not yours?

There is a pain in your chest you do not understand. This is expected! Men cannot be held down by just their wives. Did you expect him to be different? A cold fury washes over you

“Welcome home.” You finish instead.

-

check out my masterlist, and don’t forget to lmk how i can improve this fic <33

[dxxdhood]

wait for me

pairing: waiter!dick grayson x gn!reader

summary: after getting stood up on a date, you notice the waiter who's been patiently watching you all evening.

tags: smut (18+), sub!dick grayson, dom!reader, teasing, dirty talk, humiliation, name-calling, slapping, handjob

wc: 1.9k

a/n: hey, hope you guys like this one! if anyone has any requests/thoughts, please send them in. i want to write more, but i really struggle with ideas haha

It’s not that bad, all things considered. You must have the intuition of a god for choosing a restaurant that allows free refills, because if you’ve had to pay for drinks this whole night, you’d have gone completely broke. Still, you can’t help feeling pretty shitty. There’s no way your date is running two hours late.

The place is a casual diner, serving a host of soups, sandwiches, and pastries that had you salivating earlier on in the night, but right now, you’re not exactly in the mood to browse the menu again. The diner doesn’t close until twelve, but it’s been almost deserted for the past hour, probably because it’s a weeknight and the average person has plenty better to do than wait on a person who’s made it obvious they’re not coming

Just as you’re about to get up and leave – for real this time – the waiter comes around to refill your drink. It’s a quarter till twelve, and at this point you know he probably wants to start cleaning up, but still he tops up your drink without saying anything. It’s a kindness, but a part of you just wishes he would kick you out already.

He’s been the only waiter on staff since you got here – even the manager knew this place would be empty – and you’re so glad he was, because if you ever want to show your face here again, all you have to do is avoid one person. It’s a shame that you feel too embarrassed to interact with him, though. He’s been nothing but polite, only asking if you were ready to order at the very beginning before quickly picking up on the fact that you were waiting on your date– the one that wasn’t coming.

You take a sip from your full drink, but you can’t stomach any more. Standing up, you try to avoid eye contact with the waiter, who’s relaxing behind the counter, as you step towards the exit. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of your head, like you’ve skipped a step or forgotten an important task. It dawns on you as you’re facing the exit: you forgot to tip him!

Well, you didn’t order a meal and you paid for your drink up front, so you’re not exactly sure if you were meant to tip him. Hell, you didn’t know if this restaurant accepted tips at all. But this waiter just watched you sit through quiet torture and the second-hand embarrassment was probably like stepping on glass.

“Hey,” you turn around. “Do I… Should I tip you?”

“Yeah, I was wondering that, too,” he says lightly. He purses his lips and stares to the side, “I’ve turned it over a few times in my head, and decided that nope! You don’t need to tip me. You have no lawful or moral obligation, I resolve you.”

You feel your eyes getting watery, so you focus on the dust in the crease between the wall and the floor. Him saying that only makes you feel worse, but it’d be too awkward to hand him the money now. It feels like there should be something you could do, some way you could thank him for keeping you company.

“How many people are staffed right now?” you ask.

He looks caught off guard, like he expected the interaction to end there. “Oh, just me and one other guy in the kitchen.”

“Let me help you close.”

His eyes widen, and you try to meet his gaze. He’s puzzled, probably trying to figure out what you get out of helping him. Eventually, he shrugs his shoulders and gets up from behind the counter.

“Yeah, why not,” he says with a fond smirk, gesturing to you to follow him. 

He leads you to the supply closet, where the two of you grab cleaning spray, rags, and a broom. While you work on wiping down the tables and chairs, he counts the cash in the register.

“So, you always offer to clean up after yourself?” he starts, too focused on tallying up the earnings to notice you staring at him. The waiter, “Dick” according to his name tag, is very cute. You were trying to ignore him the best you could for the sake of your would-be date, but honestly, fuck that guy. Your waiter with the dashing smile and ruffled hair blows him out of the water, anyway.

“Just feeling extra polite tonight. You always accept help from customers?”

“You won’t believe this, but nobody’s offered,” he says with a snort. “Still, probably not the smartest idea on my part.”

You think about his words for a second as you wipe down a particularly stubborn stain. “I wouldn’t be able to rob you if I wanted to.”

It’s true, he looked well-muscled, even if on the leaner side. His eyes are playful as he narrows them at you. “Careful, they take security footage of this place, don't confess to any thoughts you may or may not have.”

You laugh, going back to cleaning before you start again. “Can’t believe you put off closing the diner just so you could watch me get stood up for an extra however many minutes.”

“Counterpoint: Can’t believe you let yourself get stood up for so long.” Dick finishes up at the register and grabs the broom. “You’re worth more than that.”

“Oh? And how do you know what I’m worth?” you say instinctively. 

You watch his eyes widen from your peripheral vision, like he didn’t mean to say his last comment out loud. “I wasn’t trying to overstep, but, like, obviously you’re attractive. You could get anyone you wanted and–”

“You’ve been watching me all night, haven't you?” Filled with newfound confidence, you leave your rag and spray bottle and walk over to where Dick is sweeping the entrance. 

Despite how friendly he’s been tonight, he deliberately avoids eye contact as he works. “Well, yeah, I needed to make sure you got your order once – if – you placed one–”

“No, no. I mean you were watching me,” you place a hand on his shoulder. “What, you wish you were the one I was going on a date with?”

And though you know you’re jumping to conclusions, he stiffens at your words and it’s clear you’ve caught him.

“I… I didn’t want to bother–” Dick starts, dropping the broom. You use the opening to push him against the wall, hearing the scratches of the brick against his button up shirt.

“That’s alright,” you whisper. “I don’t mind being bothered.”

You can feel his chest rise and fall as you press yourself closer to him. His eyes follow your every move, and you bring your face closer until it's only inches away from his. 

You can feel the puffs of his inhales and exhales on your skin, and you’re about to completely close the gap between you two, but Dick beats you to it. He kisses you, and you pull back for a moment in surprise before sinking into the kiss.

His lips are so warm, and as he brings up a hand to pull you closer by the jaw, you notice how surprisingly soft his hands are. You try to deepen the kiss, nipping his lip in the process, and he lets out a gasp. Biting at his lip a little more, he giggles as he realizes you’re playing with him.

“You’re starting to bother me,” he quips, trying to keep his composure as you nip at the underside of his jaw. Just when he starts getting comfortable and relaxing into your kisses, you switch to biting at him, and he jolts.

“Maybe you deserve it. You need to learn better manners, sitting there, watching me all night. Bet you wish I would’ve shoved you against this wall a whole lot sooner, huh?” you whisper into his ear before going back to kissing down his neck. He moans at your words, but tries to muffle himself by pushing his face into his shoulder. You bring a hand up to his hair and tug to get him to pay attention to you.

“Right in front of everyone, too,” you continue, sliding a hand down his stomach to work on his jeans. “Just mark you, make you moan like a bitch while everyone else is watching.”

Biting his lip, Dick tries to ignore the effect your words have on him, but he’s still rutting against your hand as you’re unzipping him. He gives a small thrust against the air, whimpering as you wrap your hand around his cock.

“Shit, this all for me?” you breathe. You swear Dick can hear you smirk, even as he pinches his eyes shut.

“Don’t– Ah!” he gets cut off as you start stroking him slowly. “Don’t let– let it go to your head.”

“No, I think I’ll be just fine,” you quicken your pace, not giving him a second to get ready. “If I remember right, some slut thinks he’s hot enough to get me to fuck him just by, what, batting his eyes at me? From all the way across the diner?”

“Well–” He groans, arching his back against the wall. The sweat shines against his cheeks, you feel so lucky to be the cause of it. “Well I was right, wasn’t I?”

You chuckle, caught off guard. “Guess you are.”

You briefly remove your hand, and Dick grunts, irritated, before you spit in it and go back to forcefully jerking him off. His moans grow louder, and you can see him start to get lost, eyes growing distant while chasing his orgasm.

“Are you going to come already?” you say, slowing your pace to be more deliberate, but still keeping the pressure the same. After a moment of silence, you slap his balls and he lets out a yelp that melts into a groan. 

“Answer me!” you shout, bringing your hand back up to pull at his hair.

“Ah– Yeah, y-yes!” he gasps. “You’re going to make me cum!”

“Good,” you say before you bite at his neck again, sucking a spot right under his jugular. The skin starts to deepen and you lick, tending to it before you nip at it again, just biting hard enough to draw a pinprick of blood. 

Dick screams as he cums, thrusting into your fist at an uncontrolled pace. You work him through it, matching his speed until he falls back against the wall, spent. As he slides down the wall until he sits on the ground, you walk back to one of the chairs.

“Damn, not ready for round two?” you say, propping up your head on the top rail. He huffs through his nose, looking at you for a moment like he’s checking to see if you’re real. He seems to find what he’s looking for, giggling and resting his head on his knees. 

“Oh my god, Dick, stop it. We need to go!” A tall, built man walks out of the kitchen, “Jason” according to his name tag. Looking sheepish, Dick is ready to defend himself, but Jason walks towards him, ignoring every word coming out of Dick’s mouth. 

Dick hands you a napkin, gesturing a phone and mouthing the words “call me” as he’s dragged out of the building by Jason. In shock, you open up the napkin to find his name and his number hastily scribbled in ballpoint pen. Smirking to yourself, you only wish you knew how early on in the night Dick prepared this napkin for you. You could’ve saved the both of you two hours of waiting.

[twost3ps]

This boy has been in the drafts for like a month

I'm feeling like I want an Adam sandwich with two slices of Morningstar brothers so you guys are going to hear me out on my LucifurxAdamxMicheal au (and I mean it in a they both share Adam in the end :3 ) In general I'm calling the ship ✨️GuitarStars✨️ boooyaaa I feel like there might be a better name for it but idk

(Also I’ve noticed there is complaint for guitarhero in the adamsapple tag. I'm tagging this post as adamsapple this once of it but post related to this with both brothers will be counted as #guitarstars.

I also completely agree with the complaints. There is a problem with the tagging so this is a very quick reminder to please tag properly!!! Ik it's not meant to be harmful bcz most guitarhero shippers are also adamsapple as well. But i will admit there has been a lot of unecessary tagging (i am guilty of this im so sorry qwq) so please be mindful!!!! Ik this post might go agaisnt that but its just this post i swear sorrryyyy)

ANYWAYS The actual au:

For now I'm calling the au- Angels on My Shoulder (I can't think of a good title rn grrr)

quick sketchs so you get the idea

General prompt:

Adam respawns as a human with all his memories. He lives a normal happy life until he turns 21 when two angels (Micheal and Lucifer) appear on his shoulders with a mission: try convince him into making certain decisions so that he ensures a spot in heaven or hell.

That doesn’t work out very well because adam hates how theyre forcing their ideals onto him one way or another. He doesnt really want to think about heaven or hell anytime soon. Heaven or hell seems like complete torture to him. The fact that he didn't like either of them before he respawned doesn't help.

A revelation happens and both brothers realize it's not gonna work on their terms so they're gonna have to earn his favor first before trying anything. One of the ways is talking it out beacuse adam had expressed several times over that, while at first it was funny, their bickering needs to die because it's getting annoying.

They talk it out. They make up. It takes a whole but they become close again. They try to earn adams favor in the meantime and between time. Everything is at peace. As time goes on though, the wooing is no longer for just adams favor, its now romantic. Both develop feelings for Adam. And since now they made up both made up they are very willing to share him.

The og goal is completely lost. Gone with the dirt and dust. And now what was once a competition to get Adam into heaven or hell has spiraled into heaven and hell trying to get into Adam. If you catch my drift.

Do they get in there?

God bless they do

(Ps they start off as small little mascots but then later grow into their normal form and an added human form. Adam Prefers the small mascots though)

My in-depth of the au that is very subject to change I just wanted to rant is under the cut o3o

So when Adam had died, he respawned onto earth. Born into a normal family and all that jazz. He lives life as normal and has comes to terms with it. He actually loves his life. He doesn’t have to walk on eggshells anymore and lives as normal. He’s not insanely good or insanely bad, he’s just a guy.

A guy who is very happy with himself. After graduating he becomes a national park ranger.

Heaven and hell both know of adams soul, but contant cant be initiated till he turns 21 (It was recognized because I wanna say 21 would be the age Adam technically was in his creation during Eden, and thats when he can process divinity without his body tweaking as if he were any other mortal. Souls grow along with age and all that drama, adams soul in eden was strong enough to stand the sheer power of a seraphims presence) both sides made it their immediate duty to guide him to their path.

Sera wanted Adam in heaven to clear her mind- to have heaven back to perfection with the original perfection creation (also to have her son back, but she's not ready to unpack that for herself.)

Lucifur wanted adam as he could punish him directly for hurting Charlie and her friends. A little tiny part of him also really wants Adam all for himself grrryrvgrvsgrs

So both heaven and hell spawn a representative guide for Adam to follow once his soul is ready to guide. Lucifur nominated himself and Sera nominated Micheal who agreed.

For some reason (probably amix of earth and god or sumn), Adam's presence nulls the powers of both angels and devils. So the first time they appear, Micheal and lucifur appear as small tiny mascots on Adam’s shoulder.

(Adam has flicked both of them away several times and they can't really do anything about it other than fly back and try again)

Both sides had the same idea and Adam connects the dots very fast on why they are here without them telling him. And he's pissed.

His normal life is now ruined.

Adam actually really hates both Lucifur and Micheal. Lucifur for obvious reasons and Micheal because he's just so nitpickey. Micheal had trained Adam in the past and that guy was brutal. Adam understood part of it was with Lucifurs falling and their brother thing and whatever but god daymn bro needed to chill. If Sera was on him like a hawk Micheal had been on him like a spy camera from space monitored by the secret service. In a way, both devalued adams emotions to some capacity so Adam hated both of them equally. Nothing Adam could do about it though because he was human.

In the beginning, both micheal and lucifur kept it really formal between them. Its strained but neither brother imposes on what the other one advises. That doesn’t stay for too long. The formalities between Lucifur and Micheal die pretty quickly. Under 2 months tops. While both are very old and very much adults, they are, first and foremost, SIBLINGS.

Both begin talking over eachother, butting in, shoving eachother. It's like pre eden all over again between the two on who is better. Most of the time they argue about the most random topics forgetting their og purpose.

After one year of enduring both of their bs, Adam feels like he has a dog and a cat rather than two otherworldly gaurdians monitoring his every move.

He doesn't complain though. After a while he's learned to tune them out. He also finds it incredibly entertaining watching the literal devil fight with the a high angel while being incredibly small. And with no powers it resorts to petty slapping. He's gotten pretty used to it....

Except when it comes to them making him choose what actions he takes.

They're always on him about everything. It sucks so much ass. Everything Adam tries to do something good, Lucifur tells him that it's stupid, that he should be more selfish and blocks Adam. He keeps on telling him that deep down adam really isnt all that, and why should he try and do good when everyone knows that hes not really that. Micheal does the same thing in reverse. When Adam does something considered bad, Micheal raves on how he'll go to hell. That Adam was made in perfection and must reach that perfection. That heaven is waiting for him and is available only if he keeps on doing good.

It makes Adam so mad when they remember what they're trying to do.

Adam doesn’t listen to either angel because after living part of his life as just a normal person, he’s come to realize he doesn’t want to think about living life wondering if he’s going to heaven or hell. Adam does not want to face eternal punishment or be in hell. He still really hates sinners, and while the blood hungry killer part of him died with his second life, he still thinks that the majority of those sinners are disgusting to say the least. But he doesn’t want to walk eggshells to be virtuous enough to enter heaven. Heaven, for all its greatness got tiring after 1000s of years. He's grown tired- already hated hell and grew to hate heaven. He doesn’t want to think about either, he doesn’t want those ideas to deter him from choosing what he wants to do. He wants to make both good and bad decisions without an angel watching over him. He wants to be able to make both good and bad decisions. He makes this very clear after a breakdown.

It becomes less of a competition over making Adam choose and more of getting into Adam’s favor after that because their first tactic is clearly not working.

So both agree that they will have to earn adams favor before making him do anything.

But in order to get adams favor both have to learn to get along because it had become one of Adam's biggest gripes. Funny at first, but the bickering and arguments got tiring after the course of a few years.

So they do attempt to make up. Genuinely. It's hard and its tough. Theres a lot there to unpack. But both jnkw that if they don't do this Adam is not going to listen to either of them because getting along has go go both ways.

And they do make up.

By the time Adam is in his early 30s, the close proximity and a lot of Adam yelling to sort it out, allowed for some slow but needed time to talk it out. They would do it infront of Adam who was the mediator, but they mostly would talk when Adam falls asleep as both watch over his dreams (creepos imo). They begin talking about their decision and their lives. Both brothers do acknowledge that they miss each other and that they have committed several wrongs with each other. And soon the fighting turns to light banter and life is good. They still try to earn adams favor but it's a lot more calmer. Everything's more calm.

Atleast that's what adam thought at first.

While bonding and stuff, they both come to the mutual agreement that they could share Adam. So they both freak it and try to woo Adam together.

And then now it's a matter of Adam freaking out because while before, both his little shoulder angels used to argue, they their bickering distracted them enough that Adam could chill and leave.

Now they're both bothering him and helping eachother try to get in adams pants. They're tag teaming him now.

It doesn't take long for their combined forces to make Adam cave.

The og goal is kinda gone. They still put their input but adams become more open it because they're less demanding and he feels like their goals are more aligned to his wants than theirs. Lucifur and Micheal also come to kinda realize that where Adam ends is where Adam ends. They're going to have to just suck it up when the time comes but they'll enjoy sharing while it lasts.

It gets pretty domestic and slice of life here. So the years following is a mix of sibling bonding and having ✨️the rizz✨️ on Adam.

Lucifur talks about hell and Charlie. Micheal talks about heaven and lucifur and his siblings. (Both Micheal and Lucifur arent permannt shoulder angels, they can actually pop away if they wanted to) Adam talks about his life and stuff.

When Adam eventually dies, his soul is neither here or there (because getting absolutely boned by twin morningstars does not make you virtuous or sinful it just makes you a bad bitch) his soul spawns in limbo. He’s deprived from salvation but doesn’t endure the horrors of hell. It’s basically a decent sided garden with a basic house in the middle where the garden ends is white space. On opposite ends of the garden are two doors, one goes to hell and the other to heaven. Turns out, the doors are connected to Micheal and Lucifer’s homes, but only appeared in them once Adam died. He’s allowed outside limbo into heaven or hell of his choosing for a limited amount of time and visites Micheal and Lucifer when he can. On the flip side Micheal and Lucifer can freely walk in and out of the place. I don’t want Adam to be lonely once he enters limbo so Cain and Abel are there because they died before heaven was ready and when he’ll just started.

So that’s pretty much it :3 kinda

incomplete but doesn't have everything I wanna say

Also

I will reiterate what I said at the beginning. I love you my guitarhero ppl but they are right in the tagging. It comes from a place of love so just be mindful!! Also, this is from me, sometimes the adamsapple vs guitarhero thing gets repetitive. It's a very common post ive seen. And I mean in general not just leaking into the adamsapple tag. That might just be me, but I do see it pretty often. Love it but that with the tagging does get a bit old. Really, the problem is a mix of incorrect tagging and the same trope. There's a lot more to the ship, especially with Micheal being free reign rn, so there is a lot of opportunity to show their relationship besides comparing it to Adamsapple.

I feel like somone who ships guitarhero also had to say something so yeyeye

Again, no offense to anyone guitarhero isbmy love but just please be mindful guys o3o

If you read all that thank you lol

[schrodingers-romy]

Jilted (not) Lover [Mitsuya Takashi x Reader]

Pairing: Mitsuya Takashi x GN!Reader Word Count: ~2,100 [Ao3 Link]

Summary: Takashi is your best friend (who you have some more than friendly feelings for); so you don't understand why he never seems to want to spend time with you anymore.

Warnings: mild misunderstandings, kissing, no gendered terms for reader; reader is a bit insecure, and Takashi is a little less emotionally mature than normal.

Notes: wasn't feeling good so I finally sat down and wrote an idea I've had for a while. Probably needs more editing but I want to let it finally fly free

You thought nothing of barging into your best friend’s room; after all, he gave you a spare key for a reason. “Takashi!” you called excitedly. “They let me off work early today! Do you wanna maybe go out and do something? I heard there was a new—”

You were cut off before you could even finish. “I’m sorry,” Takashi said, not even bothering to raise his eyes from the patterns in front of him. “I really need to finish this today.”

“Oh,” you said, deflating slightly. “Well, I could just hang around here if you want some company. I can help too!”

Still, you received barely any acknowledgement. “I’ve got it, I just need to focus. I’ll see you later, though.”

Your smile felt brittle. “Okay, sounds good. I’ll go see Yuzuha then. Don’t forget to show me your new design when you’re done.”

The door clicked shut softly behind you.

Later, you heard from Yuzuha that Takashi went out to the arcade with Hakkai that same day. You were hurt, but you wanted to think the best. Takashi probably just finished early and assumed you were busy. It was nothing.

Except it wasn’t.

-

Ever since the two of you met in middle school, you had never gone more than a few days without hanging out. Throughout high school you basically lived at his house, becoming almost like another sibling to his sisters. Even once you both graduated and got different jobs, the two of you spent most of your free time together. (Enough time together for you to develop a horrible infatuation with him, at the very least.)

And yet, for two weeks straight Takashi had been completely blowing you off.

He was always busy with last minute designs, or he had to take his sisters to something, or he already had plans with Draken or Hakkai or the old Toman members. Normally, he would ask you to tag along, but he barely talked to you other than to let you know he couldn’t see you or spend time with you.

You never said anything, keeping a nonchalant tone around him. But god, did it hurt. You didn’t know what you did wrong to deserve this treatment; you couldn’t remember anything. Maybe he had just finally gotten tired of you and was trying to let you down easy.

You did your best to ignore those thoughts. It’s Takashi, you thought. If there was something wrong, he would communicate with you. It was probably nothing. (You needed to tell yourself that to keep from breaking down.)

-

Even though your relationship with Takashi was at a standstill, you still talked to his sisters.

Today, you had come over to make the girls lunch before they left to go hang out with their friends. Takashi hadn’t come out from his room when you called.

[“It’s fine,” you said, “I know he’s busy.”

The girls gave each other a look when they thought you weren’t paying attention. At least these Mitsuyas noticed something was up, you thought bitterly.]

They were long gone, after thanking you for the food and each giving you an awkward teenager hug on the way out. You have the rest of the day free, so you take your time cleaning the dishes, in the pathetic hope that Takashi will come out and you two will go back to normal.

You think that your prayers are answered when you see him come down the stairs. He seems a little surprised to see you still there, and he gives you a small, distracted smile. Your heart flutters as you smile back.

You think he’s coming towards you, but he walks right by the kitchen and heads towards the door instead. “Thanks for making lunch for the girls. I’m sure it was great,” he says, lingering for a moment. “You can leave the rest of the dishes; I’ll get them when I come back.”

“Oh. Where are you going?” you ask. You can hear a nearly imperceptible buzzing in your ears. You wonder if you’re angry or just sad; it’s hard to tell sometimes.

“Just out with Draken. I’ll see you later, yeah?” He’s already opening the door to leave.

You try to keep your composure, but the way you slam the plate as you set it on the counter is telling. “Yeah. See you later, I guess.” You wince. Even to your own ears, you sound bitchy. And you were doing so well in keeping it straight...  

There is a second of hesitation, and then the door closes. You busy yourself with drying the remaining dishes, not bothering to look up. Takashi probably left already.

But then you hear his footsteps as he comes into the kitchen. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks.

You still don’t look at him. You hate how concerned he sounds. Because of course he noticed how snotty you sounded; it wasn’t subtle. And Takashi was nothing if not a mediator, so he would obviously want to talk it out. But now, even after praying for the barest scrap of his attention back, you want nothing more than for him to leave you alone. You aren’t ready for whatever sort of conversation this is going to be.

On one hand, you are still hurt by how he treated you, how he hung out with you less and less as he replaced you with Draken and Hakkai. On the other hand, you feel like you’re being nothing but a spoiled brat. Takashi doesn’t owe you anything; he’s nice, so this is probably his own way of letting you know that you were too clingy and that he needed space while trying to spare your feelings. You just don’t want to hear that out loud.

At this point, you can feel yourself getting worked up. Your own thoughts buzz in your head like a swarm of angry locusts, rattling to the ever-quickening beat of your heart in your ears. You don’t quite know if you want to cry or scream.

He’s right in front of you now; you can see his shoes sidle up next to your slipper-clad feet on the kitchen floor as you valiantly avoid eye contact.

“C’mon, talk to me,” he says, voice softening even more. Because of course he can tell you are getting more upset.

“Just go,” you say. You sound muffled in your own ears. “Go hang out with Draken, or Hakkai, or your other gang friends. I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s up.”

“Oh, now that I want you to leave me alone, you won’t.”

“Hey, what is that supposed to mean?” He sounds a little offended now, and that just makes you angrier.

You spin around to face him for the first time. You can see how his eyebrows furrow, purple eyes glistening with concern as they take in your expression.

You lose your grip on your emotions. “Oh, what does that mean? I mean you’ve been ditching me for weeks now! Every time I come around, you’re too busy, or you already have plans with someone else!” You take a deep breath, trying to rein yourself in. “Look, if you don’t want to be around me anymore, just say something. Not any of this ‘hinting’ bullshit. Just…just say something…because I honestly don’t know what’s going on, Takashi.”

Your anger burnt through you quickly, like a flashfire, and you can feel your eyes starting to water.

Takashi looks stricken. One of his hands comes up to grip yours, using it to pull you into a tight hug. It only takes one murmur of your name, spoken gently into your hair as he tucks your head underneath his chin, for you to fully break.

There are tears streaming down your face now. You start to babble. “You’re my best friend, Takashi,” you say, pitifully. “I miss you.”

You feel his arms tighten around you, until you can almost feel your bones grinding together. It kind of hurts, but you are just happy to be held. His grip loosens soon enough, and he pulls back so he can look you in the eyes.

“I fucked up.” He smiles sadly at you. “I never wanted to make you feel like that. You’re my best friend to…but I couldn’t stay like that, and I didn’t know what to do about it.”

You feel your heart drop; you don’t understand. “What’re you trying to say?”

He lets out a sigh, and then reaches to clasp both your hands in his. His eyes dart around the room, nervously, before settling back onto yours. There is a quiet intensity in them that he only has when things are serious. “I want to be more than friends. I like you…romantically. I realized it a few weeks ago…you were always so special to me, and I didn’t understand why until Draken pointed it out to me.”

He let out a light chuckle. “I treated you differently than I did everyone else because I had—have—a crush on you. I didn’t know what to do about it, so I started avoiding you. I thought I would blurt out something that would ruin our friendship. I didn’t think about how it would affect you. I’m so sorry.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. It seems so inconceivable that he would return your feelings. You don’t even know what to say, so you focus on the end of his short speech. “So much for being the emotionally intelligent one, huh?” you say, tone lighter than it has been this whole time.

He lets out a self-deprecating laugh, tilting his head down. “Yeah, yeah. Guess I’m better with other people’s problems than my own. But cut me some slack, this is the first time I’ve been in love with someone before.”

You freeze. “Love?”

He already told you he had a crush on you, but this brings your thoughts to a halt. Love is a much more serious claim than a simple crush.

Takashi seems to think so as well. His face shutters. It’s clear he didn’t mean to say that much, but he doesn’t back down. “Yeah. Love. But it’s okay you don’t feel the same way. I’m good with just being friends. Or whatever makes you comfortable. Um. I owe you that much after being such a shithead, huh?” He looks uncomfortable, like he is just waiting for you to reject him. Like it’s inevitable.

You give him a sharp flick on the nose. “Idiot. Who says I don’t feel the same way.”

“…You do?”

You let out a snort, fighting to keep a grin off your face. “Like I wasn’t pining after you for years. God, Takashi, I follow you like a lovesick puppy, and you didn’t catch a hint?”

You open your mouth to say something else, but you’re swept back into his arms before you can. The two of you are face to face now; from here, you get the full force of his blinding grin. He’s smiling so wide that his eyes are nothing more than crescents of purple, his pretty eyelashes nearly brushing his cheeks. He looks breathtaking.

You break out into your own smile, unable to keep the happiness off your face. You feel so light, lighter than you have in a long time. The knowledge that Takashi loves you is like a shot of dopamine straight to your brain; you feel nearly delirious from the sudden rush of happiness.

“I love you,” he says. He sounds so tender when he says it, you can’t help but tilt your head up to press a kiss to his lips. It’s nothing more than a peck, but the touch of his soft mouth against yours sends sparks through your body.

“I love you too,” you say.

He looks at you in awe, before he leans down to steal another kiss from your lips, this one longer, and deeper.

You never want to leave; you would happily spend forever standing in the middle of his kitchen, trading heartfelt kisses and basking in the warmth of your love with Takashi.

-

(Draken wonders what happened to Mitsuya; he missed their hangout without so much as a “can’t make it” text. He can only hope the other boy finally got the balls to confess his feelings to you. He loves his sworn brother, but he’s getting tired of seeing Mitsuya avoid you. And he is definitely getting tired of hearing his lovesick ramblings. Well, if the two of you haven’t gotten together by now, Draken supposes he could always go with Yuzuha’s plan to lock the both of you in a closet until you worked things out.)

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter Eight

Summary

When whining about season selection to your therapist turns into confronting the complicated ways that Astarion makes you feel, she challenges you to really explore what it is that you - or perhaps your subconscious - want.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2.6k Tags/Warnings: imagined D/s dynamic, light bondage, ascended Astarion lines, vaginal fingering, masturbation

Thank god this girl is finally getting into therapy, am I right? I don't have a ton to say other than now that the major conflict I had planned is winding down, it's going to be a lot more about exploration from here on out.

Once again, Zaria is out here killing it with these screenshots!

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

You massage your temples in an attempt to ease your headache. Season selection has been going terribly – every meeting just ended with everyone talking in circles. Today, it’s Alfira’s turn to make her case as to why hers is the best choice.

“I just think that it would do our students a lot of good to have this outlet to talk about their mental health,” she insists, bleeding heart that she is.

“I’m not necessarily saying I disagree with you,” you begin, gears in your head turning as you formulate your thoughts. “But isn’t Heathers, like, dark to the point of troubling?”

“Well sure, it’s dark, but what do you mean troubling?” Her eyes are big and round, and you try to imagine someone as tender as Alfira blocking a scene like “Dead Girl Walking.” It’s not easy.

“I’ve seen the way teen girls talk about the character JD, it’s a little concerning.” You fold your arms and lean back in your chair, studying Alfira’s expression carefully as it twists into a frown.

“I mean, sure, some of them think he’s cute, but I don’t think anyone is looking at him and thinking ‘boyfriend goals.’” 

“Are you sure? Have you seen the TikToks for that one song? What’s-it-called, the ‘open the door’ song.” Your fingers twitch towards your phone, fighting the urge to pull up the app.

“Yeah, ‘Meant to be Yours,’ I’ve seen them, and I think they’re fairly harmless. They know it’s not real, you know?” She fiddles with the pen in her hand, not taking her eyes off you. You squirm, uncomfortable under her persistent gaze.

“Maybe you’re right. I don’t know.” You look down at your notes, giving yourself a second to think. “Something about the way they talk about JD makes me feel icky. JD as a character makes me feel icky. Besides,” you add quickly before she gets that puppy dog look in her eyes, “I don’t know if building around a theme of ‘mental health’ is specific enough to be interesting. I’m not even sure I can think of a classical play that fits into that.”

“Perhaps Hamlet?” Lucretious says with a smirk, and you groan loudly as others in the meeting titter.

“Gods, please, literally anything else,” you whine. 

The discussion continues, going absolutely nowhere, until the clock ticks over and everyone starts to pack up their things. Another meeting gone, and you’re no closer to having a season for next year. You put away your notebook and Alfira comes up beside you.

“Just think on it a little more,” she implores. “The kids have talked a lot about wanting to do Heathers, I’m just advocating for them.”

“But do you think it’s a good, timely choice? You, the professor?” you ask suspiciously, trying to scope out her intentions.

“I really do, yes. I think there’s a reason why they’re drawn to it right now.”

You chew on your lip and look at her a little longer. Then you sigh and acquiesce. “Fine, I’ll give it another read. It’s been a while since I’ve seen it, maybe there’s something I’m missing.”

“Thank you! I appreciate it, and I know the students do too,” she says, giving your arm a little squeeze. You soften, finding it difficult to perform your usual stubbornness with someone as sweet as Alfira.

Something is still gnawing at you, though, and you can’t figure out what.

***

You arrive at your therapist’s office a few minutes before your appointment. You sit in the waiting room, the white noise machine humming pleasantly. At 6:00 on the dot, Jaheira opens the door and waves you forward.

“Come in,” she says in her thick Russian accent. You walk past her into the office, which has a cozy, natural vibe. Between all of the plants and the bookshelves, you have no idea what color the walls are. You toe off your shoes and settle on the couch cross-legged as she sits across from you in an elegant red chair.

“So tell me, how are things going?” she asks, crossing her legs and letting her legal pad balance on her knee. You fidget uncomfortably, trying to figure out what to bring up first. But the season selection meeting is still so fresh in your mind, and you have so many thoughts bouncing around your head. Before you can stop yourself, you’re filling her in on all the details, including your feelings about Heathers.

“I just don’t understand why she’s so insistent on this musical, it’s not even really that good,” you grump, picking at your cuticles. She taps her pen to her mouth contemplatively.

“And this character that bothers you so much, JD? What is it about him specifically that gets under your skin? Surely you don’t feel this way about all bad guys in plays.” She tilts her head as she speaks and your eyes dart around the room, both avoiding her gaze and trying to gather your thoughts.

“I don’t know, there’s just something… Honestly, I think it’s the way these teen girls talk about him. I can totally see some of myself in them, too. I feel like if I were a teen when this musical came out I’d be foaming at the mouth for him.” You roll your eyes at the imaginary version of yourself you’ve conjured.

“Is that bad? To find the villain attractive?”

“It’s not just finding him attractive, it’s what qualities they find attractive. The toxicity, the obsessiveness, the violence. I don’t want them to take that into their real lives, you know?” Your words ring in your ears with double meaning and you quickly shut the errant thought down. Not Jaheira, though. She picks up on it immediately.

“We’re not talking about JD anymore, are we?” she asks softly and you fold your arms across your chest. You’re silent for a good long time, various thoughts and feelings barreling through your mind like a train, while she just watches you patiently. Finally, you muster up the energy to speak.

“I just… don’t like that I like it. Every time my body gets turned on by something terrible that he does, I feel betrayed. Like I’ve violated my own consent. It makes me feel sick,” you say in a very small voice, fixing your gaze on a small succulent on the coffee table in front of you.

“I believe you said last tenday that he thought it was all a game, correct?” she asks carefully, and you nod. She continues, “Well, what’s stopping you from playing along with him?”

You stare at her, that ringing in your ears coming back. Your stomach lurches, but you genuinely can’t tell if it’s from aversion or excitement.

“I mean, I don’t want to think of my relationship as a game,” you say with slight disgust. She shakes her head.

“Not the relationship, no, but perhaps other things. If you two agree on the rules ahead of time, find a safe way to tap out if need be, what’s to stop you from having fun?”

“What, like kink?” you ask with incredulity. It’s not something you had ever considered for yourself.

“You could call it that, but it doesn't need to be anything so formal. As long as you agree on your boundaries prior.” She looks at you with that penetrating stare again, like she can peer directly into your thoughts. “Can you trust this man?”

You genuinely don't know the answer to this question.

She doesn't let the silence linger for quite as long this time. She continues, “Try it on your own, first. Just fantasy. Give yourself permission to go as dark as you want. Just make sure you have a bottle of wine and a good friend on hand.” You immediately picture a smiley Shadowheart.

There's still something tugging at your mind, though.

“But doesn't it say something about my, like, feminist values if I want to get beat up in the bedroom?” You pick some lint off your sock so you don't need to look at her, but you steal a glance up at her anyway. She’s raising an eyebrow.

“What does it say?” she asks in that tone she uses when she's pushing back on one of your biases. You swallow your instinctive response and really think about an answer.

“I don't know, like I'm a bad feminist or something,” you finally mutter. Jaheira barks out a laugh.

“Please, what, do you think you're going to go to Feminist Thought Jail? That the Feminist Police are going to come and arrest you?” Her tone is snide but it makes you crack a smile nonetheless. She knows that you sometimes need a firm hand to keep your anxiety in line.

“Your homework,” she continues, glancing at the clock, “is to let yourself explore this fantasy, however you want. Whether it's just in your mind, or in writing, you can touch yourself or not, it's up to you.” Your cheeks redden slightly at getting “masturbate” as therapy homework. “Just make sure you're listening to your body. I think she knows what she wants more than that brain of yours.”

You take a deep breath and put your feet on the floor again, slipping your sneakers back on.

“Thanks, Jaheira.”

“You're welcome. It's literally my job. I'll see you next tenday, yeah?”

You nod, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You exit her office, ideas for your “assignment” bouncing around your head.

***

You get back to your apartment and kick off your shoes. You drop your bag and immediately head into the kitchen to pour yourself a drink. There’s absolutely no way you can do this stone cold sober. Your eyes flit between the fridge handle and the wine rack above it. Red or white? The image of Astarion licking your blood off his lips invades your mind.

Red. Obviously. Unfortunately. 

You catch yourself. You don’t need to be so judgmental. You like red, and if it adds to the experience because it makes you think of him, so be it.

Your desire to cringe is potent nevertheless.

You bring the glass into your bedroom and dim the lights in an attempt to set some sort of mood. You pull a candle out of a Bath and Bodyworks bag on your dresser, trying not to think about how much time you spent trying to find one with the right smell. You set the candle and your wine glass on your bedside table. You strike a match and watch as the wick catches light, the flame bobbing around like a chipper little parakeet. 

While staring off into space in the direction of the candle, you take a long, deep sip of wine. After a moment, you lie back on your bed and stare at your ceiling. Echoes of the fire dance across your vision. You take a deep breath, nervous about where you’re about to let your mind wander. 

You conjure up his expression from the night you saw Taming. That snide grin, fangs bared, blood dripping down his chin. You remember him closing his hand around your throat and something deep in your core constricts. You let your hand slide down your front, taking your time, and his words reverberate in your ears.

Little love, do you think you’re in control?

You unbutton your jeans and your hand slips below the waistband of your panties. You dip your middle finger into your slick and let out a shaky breath.

You insolent little brat. I will absolutely ruin you.

The thought brings a voiceless moan to your lips. Your ring finger joins your middle finger and they lazily run along your folds, spreading your wetness. 

Your eyes shoot open – you hadn’t even realized they were closed. You can feel the judgment, the anger, the frustration, all bubbling up inside of you. You take a deep breath, acknowledge it, and let your imagination take over again.

You visualize him smugly peering over his glasses at you, the round wire ones, and he points down to his feet.

On your knees, darling.

His voice in your mind is smooth like velvet, low with just a tinge of threat. You look up at him, your bound hands resting in your lap, a collar around your neck. He holds the leash.

Back in your bedroom, your back arches as you slide your middle finger into your cunt, just barely up to the second knuckle. You whimper at the thought of him pulling the leash tight. Your breath moves high into your chest, making your tits heave with the exertion. You move your other hand to your nipple, gently rolling it between your fingers as another needy moan works its way into your mouth. You savor this one slightly, lending it some of your voice.

The collar is replaced by his hand, his fingers tight on your neck. He pulls up on your jaw, bringing you to an upright position on your knees. He kisses you, rough and hungry, your hands twitching against their cuffs.

You let a second finger join the first inside your cunt, tilting your pelvis to get a better angle. Your jeans constrict your waist, and in a huff you shove them down past your hips and kick them off your feet. Your fingers immediately dive back into you and you groan, thinking about his hand yanking your hair back and exposing your neck to him.

In your fantasy you say something, anything, the words are garbled nonsense in your mind. But he laughs cruelly, a far cry from his high pitched giggle that you love so much.

“Don’t be stupid, darling,” he spits, and your legs fall open to let your fingers in further, the top of your palm coming into contact with your clit. Your hips cant into your hand, your throbbing pussy aching for more friction, more heat. 

“Fuck me, Astarion, make me yours,” you whine instinctually, his name sweet and bitter on your tongue. Your conscious mind recoils – do you want him to call you stupid? You’re already insecure about that as it is.

Fantasy, your subconscious coos. It’s just fantasy. You take a deep breath and give yourself permission to keep going.

He traps your naked body with his, caging you in without a means of escape. His eyes glint with something feral, like a predator, as he buries his nose into your hair. You squirm and moan for him, the line between fantasy and reality blurring. His fangs scrape across your jaw as his words spit rapidfire into your ear.

You precious little thing.

You’re mine, remember?

I shall lock you in a room and keep you all to myself.

You’re going to be wonderfully obedient.

Your fingers slide out of your cunt and you move their ministrations to your clit, rubbing in quick, small circles as his imaginary voice rattles in your brain. Your feet push against the mattress, pressing your hips into your fingers as you desperately chase release. Every part of you aches to be held down by him, his cold hands gripping your wrists as he fucks you senseless. His palm slapped across your mouth to muffle your cries of pleasure. His fangs deep in your neck as his cock thrusts even deeper.

Your hand stutters as it tries to keep pace with your fantasy, yearning to feel every inch of him across your body. Your stomach tightens and your pussy clenches and you come in a crashing wave all over your hand. You continue stroking yourself through the end of your climax, eventually succumbing to stillness. The only sensations you feel are the slowing throb in your cunt and your breath wracking through your lungs. 

You let your hand linger in the sticky mess between your legs, turning your head to face the flickering orange light from the candle. 

What do you want?

You’re very good at asking me that. I’m not sure you’re good at answering it yourself.

So… what do you want?

[zzoomacroom]

Live a Little

✨✨✨

Dreamling, One Shot, Fluff, Smut, Angst, Friends to Lovers, 6500 words

Late entry for @mr-sadman's Dreamling Week 2024 (Day 1: Indulgence, First Time). Also for @dreamlingbingo (Square A3: Friends to Lovers)

✨✨✨

Summary: Dream needs to be convinced that he’s allowed to indulge, to want, to live. Hob shows him some of the little things that make life worthwhile: good friends, good wine, fancy chocolate, and amazing sex.

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022), The Sandman (Comics)

Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Additional Tags: Fluff, Smut, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Sexual Tension, Getting Together, First Time, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Oral Sex, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Under-negotiated Kink, Dream has bad blowjob etiquette but Hob is into it, not beta read

✨✨✨

“Make yourself at home, my friend,” Hob says, ushering his oldest and dearest friend into the sitting room. Dream nods soberly and heads for the sofa, while Hob turns back towards the hall. “Back in a tick. I’ve got a nice Pinot noir I’ve been saving that I think you’ll like.”

Before his friend can launch into his whole “You need not trouble yourself, I have no need for sustenance, blah blah blah” spiel, Hob darts through the hall and into the bright, cluttered kitchen at the back of the flat. He uncorks the wine and crouches down to rummage through the cabinets, hauling aside dishes and cast iron pans that would almost certainly be considered antiques by now. He knows they’re around here somewhere…

“Ha!” Hob makes a little noise of triumph as he retrieves the pair of dusty earthenware cups that he’d bought at an art fair a couple decades back. They’re handmade and painted in brilliant blues and greens, and the small bumps and imperfections on them remind him of the Border ware dishes he had owned back in the mid-16th century (minus the lead glaze, presumably).

Hob gives the cups a quick wash and dries them off before pouring the wine. He’s learned the hard way that Dream is not a fan of glass drinkware these days. When his friend explained the reason for this sudden aversion, Hob’s heart had shattered like the brandy snifter that Dream had dropped minutes before. Afterwards, he had gone through and purged his flat of wine glasses, glass bowls, and anything else that even vaguely resembled the prison Dream had described. Not just for his friend’s sake, but for himself; he doesn’t want that reminder either—the thought of his dear stranger, trapped, alone… If Hob had known…

God, if only he’d known…

Anyway. The point is, he’s been sticking with coffee mugs since then. But he can’t serve fine wine to the King of Dreams and Nightmares in a “Shag of the Century” mug, even if it does feel hilariously apropos, so it’s lucky he remembered these. The flat’s a bit of a mess as it is and he doesn’t want to come across as too much of a slob.

Hob hadn’t expected his old friend to drop by today. Well, to be honest, he never expects it, but he’s always thrilled to see him. Ever since they broke their centennial tradition with that first meeting at the New Inn, Dream has started visiting more frequently. At first it was brief, sporadic meetings at the pub, but he gradually started to come around more often, much to Hob’s delight. He’s shown up a few times when Hob was leaving work, instigating a riot of gossip among Hob’s coworkers and sixth-formers alike. Sometimes he visits Hob while he dreams, which had destroyed Hob’s entire perception of reality the first time it happened and still never ceases to blow his mind.

Usually the two of them come up to Hob’s flat, ostensibly to watch a movie or so that Hob can show off whatever new gadget he’s acquired, but the truth is that he wants Dream’s attention all to himself. Hob has always been a selfish, greedy man, and he can’t help but covet this precious time spent together. One never knows if the next Will Shakespeare is lurking in the pub.

He can never predict exactly when his friend will show up, but these days it seems like hardly a week passes without seeing him. So it’s odd that this is the first time he’s been by in over a month. Hob had noticed right away that something was troubling him; Dream seems even more distant and shuttered than usual today, and so Hob had herded him upstairs the moment he walked through the door.

He’s trying very hard not to be a mother hen, but in fairness the pub was starting to get crowded, and Hob knows that his friend is not fond of the noise. He’s just being considerate, he tells himself. Yes, he’s missed him desperately these past few weeks, and yes, the worry that he’d been captured again has consistently been in the back of Hob’s mind. But he has to rein it in and play it cool, lest he trigger another incident like 1889. He knows how lucky he is, how spoiled he’s become, getting to see Dream so often after having gone a century (or more) between meetings. So he knows he’s being a bit silly, getting so antsy after only a month apart.

Still. He worries.

(Continue reading below or on ao3):

Hob returns to the sitting room, wine bottle in one hand and the two cups balanced precariously in the other. He stifles a gasp and nearly drops them when he sees his friend perched on the sofa, having evidently vanished his coat and shoes back to the Dreaming, leaving his feet and arms bare. Hob simultaneously feels like a prude and a pervert as he drinks in the rare sight of that flawless ivory skin.

Then his heart swells with fondness—Dream has actually attempted to make himself at home, like Hob offered. “Attempted” being the key word; he does rather look like he’s sitting in a waiting room instead of on his friend’s sofa. Like he’s not sure how comfortable he’s allowed to get. Hob wants to make him comfortable, wants to wrap him in soft blankets and feed him soup and make him understand how fiercely loved he is.

Steady on, Hobsie. Get a hold of yourself.

Dream looks up from the worn copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy he’s been thumbing through, and if Hob didn’t know any better he’d say there was a faint blush blooming on his perfect cheekbones.

See, that’s the elephant in the room: the ever-present sexual tension between them has been at an all-time high lately. Obviously, Hob fell in love with Dream the second he laid eyes on him—how could he not?—and occasionally, over the centuries, he’s felt a spark of… something, from his stranger (that look he’d given him in 1789 being the most flagrant example). And he’s been feeling that something more and more often these days.

Maybe he’s just a lovesick, hope-stricken old fool, but Hob has a sneaking suspicion that his feelings for his friend are, at least to some small degree, reciprocated. Hob is sure as hell not going to make the first move; he cringes as he remembers how that had gone the last time he tried it. But it’s alright. He can be patient. He has been patient. And if nothing ever happens between them, well, that’s alright too. This easy companionship that they’ve developed is more than Hob could have ever hoped for, and he considers himself a lucky man indeed.

At least that’s what he tells himself.

“Here we are, my friend.” Hob hands one of the cups to Dream—the blue one that matches his eyes—and settles beside him on the sofa, stretching and making a point of putting his feet up on the coffee table to signal to his friend that he’s allowed to relax. And he does seem to get the hint, his shoulders easing down a fraction as he leans back into the cushions. “To life,” Hob says, tilting his cup Dream’s direction. Dream responds with a small, slightly pained smile and gently clinks his cup against Hob’s before taking a sip, humming appreciatively as he drinks.

“Good, eh?” Hob grins, thrilled that his friend is enjoying it.

“Indeed. This is a fine vintage. I thank you for sharing it with me,” Dream replies solemnly.

“I can’t think of anyone better to share it with,” Hob says, perhaps a bit too earnestly, and Dream’s blush deepens ever so slightly. “So,” Hob clears his throat, “what have you been up to, my friend? It’s been a while since I saw you last.” Dream stiffens at that, and Hob hastily adds, “If you want to talk about it, that is. You don’t have to.”

Dream takes another long sip of wine and shakes his head before speaking. “I was with family. I spent some time with my youngest sister, as well as some other relations. One whom I had not seen in centuries, and. Another. With whom I had not spoken in millennia.”

To Hob’s credit, his mind boggles only a little at that. “Well, that’s nice, isn’t it? Family reunion and all?”

Dream makes a small noise—of agreement or skepticism, Hob couldn’t say—and looks away as he continues to drink his wine. It’s obvious that something has happened; Dream seems… hopeless. Resigned. To what, Hob doesn’t dare guess. Dream doesn’t seem inclined to share more at the moment, and there’s a beat of awkward silence as Hob fumbles through his mind for a new topic of conversation. He’s mentally reviewing his day for any interesting stories to tell when he notices his friend staring at the small box wrapped in gold paper on the coffee table, seemingly lost in thought.

Hob springs forward and opens the box, nudging the chocolates in Dream’s direction. “Oh! Where are my manners? Help yourself to those. Some of my coworkers got them for my birthday—well, what they think is my birthday.”

Dream blinks at him. “I do not need to eat.”

Hob chuckles. “Nobody needs to eat chocolate. It’s purely for pleasure. You don’t need to drink this very good wine either, but you’re enjoying it,” he points out, topping off both of their cups to underscore his argument. “And I bet these would go great with the Pinot.” He takes a vanilla cream-filled one for himself before pushing the box closer to Dream. “Go on, they’re quite nice. It’s the expensive stuff. I think that one’s caramel, and that’s a raspberry cream…”

A tiny smile creeps over his friend’s face as he speaks. “My sister is fond of those. Or. Something like them.”

Hob is immensely curious about these family members Dream keeps mentioning, but he doesn’t want to pry; he knows by now that if Dream wants to share something with him, he’ll do so in his own time. “Well, please, have as many as you’d like. I’ll never finish them all before they go stale, so you’d be doing me a favor.”

“I do not usually. Indulge,” Dream says, though he is still staring (longingly, one might almost say) at the cocoa-dusted confections.

“You mean to tell me you’ve got the entire Dreaming at your fingertips, and you don’t indulge in all the lovely things you’ve made? That, my friend, is a tragedy.” Hob smiles and shrugs. “Well, if you won’t indulge yourself, then why not indulge me? I won’t make you eat them, of course, but…” he takes a bite of the bonbon (it really is good, even if it’s a bit too sweet for his taste), “you’d be missing out.”

The gloom that had earlier enshrouded Dream seems all but dissipated, and Hob can’t help but notice the way his friend’s eyes flick to his mouth, the starry voids of his pupils blown wide. Hob is considerably flustered himself right now, but he manages to give his friend what he hopes is a roguishly charming wink.

Dream glances down, his cheeks reddening further. “Very well. If you insist,” he says primly, like he’s doing Hob a favor as he delicately plucks a milk chocolate truffle from the box. And he is doing him a favor; Hob already counted it as a win that he was enjoying the wine, and this is just… well, the icing on the cake. Hmm, maybe he can get him to try cake next time…

Hob loses his train of thought as he watches his friend bite into the chocolate. Dream’s eyes widen before fluttering shut, and the moan he lets out is downright sinful. It’s enthralling. Hob is in trouble.

Dream keeps his eyes closed while he savors the confection, his tongue darting out to lick the powdered cacao from his petal-pink lips. He swallows audibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and Hob shivers as he envisions…

No. Now is not the time. Keep it together, old man. Hob shifts and crosses his legs, vainly attempting to ignore the heat pooling low in his belly and the subtle tightening of his trousers.

“Thank you, my friend,” Dream murmurs, glancing demurely at Hob. “They are. Nice. As you said.”

“Of course. I’m glad you like them,” Hob beams. “Help yourself to more. Anything I have, you’re welcome to,” he adds, gesturing vaguely around the flat.

Dream stares at him for a long moment, with a hunger in his eyes that brings to mind that look, the one he’d given him in 1789. There’s something else in his expression, though. Something sad. But before Hob can attempt to decipher it, Dream schools his features, once more a mask of emotionless detachment (except for the telltale flush that has now spread from his cheeks to his ears and neck).

They’re sitting quite close together on the sofa, Hob notices. Had he scooted over without realizing, or was that Dream? There’s no body heat, no familiar human scent coming from his friend, but Hob can feel a strange sort of energy emanating from him—something like static electricity. Like the heavy, expectant stillness that comes before a storm.

Dream slowly, hesitantly reaches for another piece, and as he leans forward their thighs brush together ever so faintly.

Hob’s breath hitches.

Although they’ve been meeting regularly for a couple years now, they have never so much as shaken hands. This is unprecedented.

Hob exhales shakily, and he can’t hold back the embarrassing little noise that escapes him. He tries to disguise it as a cough, but Dream freezes and draws back suddenly as if he’s been bitten.

“It’s alright,” Hob says softly, almost a whisper, like his friend is some skittish wild beast who might flee at any second (actually, that’s about the size of it). “Have another one.”

Dream shrinks back into the sofa, looking suddenly rueful. “I should not.”

Hob laughs nervously. “Now don’t tell me you’re trying to watch your figure, because you’re already…” he splutters and trails off, tugging on his earlobe as a prickling heat creeps up the back of his neck.

Too much. Stupid. So bloody stupid, just shut up.

He hasn’t had nearly enough wine for his mind to be so fuzzy and his mouth so loose. So why can’t he get a grip?

"It’s just—I mean,” he goes on, his treacherous mouth continuing to prattle on despite his brain’s feeble protests, “my point is, it’s alright to indulge. You of all people deserve to indulge. And I offered, so… please. Take what you want. You’re allowed to want things, Dream. And you deserve to have what you want. And—and I know, you can conjure anything up out of dreams and stardust. But even so. I just… I want you to know that anything I have, anything I can offer, however trivial, it’s yours if you want it. And it’s just chocolate and wine, eh? So… why not live a little?”

Hob looks up, apparently done with his ramble, to find Dream staring at him, his head cocked in that adorable way of his. His lips are parted slightly and his eyes shine with unshed tears.

Oh, brilliant. Great fucking job, Hobsie. Just don’t know when to quit, do you?

“Hob,” his friend begins, his voice a deep rumble of distant thunder, more of a feeling than a sound. “You are very generous. More so than is wise, and far more than I deserve. But I am afraid that your generosity may be. Misplaced. You say that I should ‘live a little,’ but. I am not… alive, in the way that you are. I do not live. I simply… am.”

Hob stares at him, dumbfounded, while his heart breaks into a thousand pieces. That… is the saddest fucking thing Hob has ever heard in the two-thirds of a millennium that he’s been alive. It all makes sense now. That’s why Dream has always been so interested in the mundane minutiae of his life. He’s been living vicariously through Hob, and all the while he’s got no life of his own. Just… existing, not living, for billions of years, and on and on until the end of time.

But that’s not true, is it? No. Hob rejects the entire premise. Dream may not be a living, breathing human, but he’s a person. And he does so have a life; he’s got a family. He’s got friends. If nothing else, he’s got Hob. He’s more than just his bloody function that he’s always going on about. Hob wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Tell him that he can live, he must.

Hob’s mind is already racing with ideas—he’s going to have to up his game; they can’t keep meeting at the pub or in Hob’s flat. There’s so much more out there to do and see. Maybe, instead of living vicariously through him, Hob can convince Dream to do some living with him. Not like that… Just. Bucket list-type stuff, even though neither of them can die. Although he doubts Dream would go for it; the mental image of his dear friend skydiving is as far-fetched as it is hilarious.

Of course, he doesn’t dare say any of that. He’s sure he’s already overstepped with that unhinged rant he just went on. He ought to quit while he’s ahead and drop the subject before he offends Dream. Still, it’s impossible not to notice the way Dream has been swaying closer to him over the course of this conversation. The way the air between them seems to crackle with electricity.

“Nevertheless,” Dream continues, “I am grateful for your kindness. Thank you, my friend.”

"'Course,” Hob murmurs. “Like I said. Anything I can offer, it’s yours. So… what do you want?”

Dream falters for a moment and seems to be intensely focused on picking at a nonexistent loose thread on the hem of his t-shirt. “I… I must confess that I do not know what to say. When you ask me this. It is not in my nature to want; desire is the domain of my sibling. It is not within the purview of dreams. I do not live, nor do I want.”

“Bullshit.” The word spills from Hob’s mouth before the thought even crystallizes in his mind. Dream looks stunned and a bit offended, though more confused than anything else. He’s not getting up and storming out, though, so that’s a good sign. He’s frowning, but still watching Hob intently, like he’s curious as to how Hob will follow up that little outburst. Hob is curious where he’s going with this, too; apparently, sitting this close to Dream has caused his brain to short circuit, and now his mouth is running on autopilot.

Ah. Right. Better keep talking, then.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I shouldn’t have said that. But… I mean, obviously you wanted that chocolate. And you want to be here, or you’d have left already.” The furrow between Dream’s brows deepens as Hob speaks, and he clenches his jaw tightly. Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t give him ideas. Dial it back, old man. “But that’s alright! Really, it’s fine! More than fine! I—I don’t know about this sibling of yours, but… it just seems to me like you do want something, my friend. And whatever it is, if it’s in my power to give it to you, that’s what I want. So… what do you want?” he asks again.

Dream hesitates, gazing at Hob with those fathomless blue eyes as he appears to genuinely consider the question. He’s sitting so close that Hob can see his own reflection, blurry and distorted, mirrored in the glossy sheen of tears that rests on his friend’s dark lashes.

Finally, he seems to make up his mind. He swallows and leans closer still, his face mere inches away from Hob’s. Hob ceases breathing as a perfect, pale hand snakes upward at a glacial pace, coming to rest on his stubbled cheek. It’s smooth and cool, and Hob’s eyes drift shut as he leans into the touch. Then, impossibly soft lips are brushing against his own, and Hob lets out a muffled sob as one hand flies to Dream’s waist, the other gripping the back of his neck and pulling him closer.

Dream’s tongue probes gingerly into Hob’s open mouth, and lightning sparkles behind his eyelids. His heartbeat is a rolling crash of thunder as the clouds finally break—kissing Dream is like the first rain after centuries of drought; cool and sweet and refreshing and vital. Hob didn’t realize how parched he had been for so long, how desolate the desert of his soul, until this. This perfect kiss. It’s soft and slow and tastes like chocolate and red wine, and this—this may be what finally does Hob in after all these years.

Or it could just be that he hasn’t taken a breath in almost a full minute.

He pulls back, gasping and panting as he rests his forehead against Dream’s. Words fail him—a rare occurrence for Hob—and all he can do is grin stupidly at his friend.

“You,” Dream answers finally. “I want you, Hob.”

Hob lets out a wet, trembling laugh. “You’ve got me, Dream,” Hob whispers. “You’ve always had me.”

Dream surges forward to kiss him again, bolder and more eager this time, and Hob allows himself get swept away in the deluge. He could stay like this for hours—forever, even—and a needy whine escapes him when Dream pulls away again and surveys him with a smoldering gaze.

“Take me to bed, Hob,” he purrs.

“Oh, darling, absolutely,” Hob replies, scrambling up from the sofa and taking Dream’s hand to lead him to the bedroom. Then he freezes, struck by a sudden thought. “Er, quick question first. Is this really—I mean, am I awake right now, or…?”

Dream’s red, kiss-swollen lips twist into a fond smirk. “You are awake, Hob. But would it make any difference if you were not?”

“No,” Hob chuckles. “No, I s’pose it wouldn’t.”

Minutes later, they are entangled on Hob’s unmade bed, exploring each other hungrily with hands and lips and tongues and teeth. Hob is naked from the waist up, Dream having torn his shirt from his body with a fierce, otherworldly strength that was so startlingly arousing that Hob can’t even complain about the loss of his favorite button-down.

Dream sinks his delicate fingers into the thick pelt on Hob’s chest, humming approvingly into his mouth as he grinds against Hob’s thigh. Hob can feel his arousal through the soft fabric of his trousers, and he dips his hand beneath the waistband to squeeze the meager flesh of Dream’s arse. Dream goes still and inhales a sharp breath that Hob knows he doesn’t actually need.

“Hey. You alright?” Hob asks, withdrawing his hand and soothing it over Dream’s shoulder. “Sorry. I should have asked first. I know—after what you went through… I get it. We don’t have to keep going, love. Or we can, and you can keep—”

Dream cuts off his nervous babbling with a kiss. “I wish to continue. I trust you, Hob.”

Hob thinks he might explode from the affection that swells in him at those words. He beams at Dream and steals another quick, fervent kiss before peeling off his shirt.

“Look at you,” he breathes, drinking in the vision before him—Dream is utterly flawless. A marble statue come to life with creamy-white skin and elegant collarbones that flow into lithe, graceful shoulders and lean, well-muscled arms. “You’re so fucking beautiful I could cry, Dream,” Hob says raggedly as he runs his hands over smooth plane of Dream’s chest, circling his thumbs reverently around the firm, pink buds of his nipples.

Dream sighs and closes his eyes as he arches into Hob’s caress, dragging his fingers through the wealth of hair on Hob’s chest and continuing downwards, tracing the narrow trail down to the waistband of his trousers and unbuttoning them with nimble fingers.

Hob quickly shuffles out of his trousers and pants, groaning as his erect cock springs free. Dream’s eyes darken, the sky-blue of his irises nearly eclipsed by starry black as he (sweet Christ in heaven) licks his lips. “Hob,” he rumbles, his voice even deeper and silkier than usual. “You are. Exquisite.”

A laugh bubbles up from Hob’s throat unbidden. “Sorry. Sorry, it’s just—hearing that from you is… I mean, I can’t believe this is really happening, it’s like—”

“Hob,” Dream interrupts, raising his eyebrows and lifting his hips emphatically.

“Right. Sorry,” Hob says, bending down to unbutton Dream’s jeans. But just as his hand brushes over the zipper, the trousers vanish, leaving Dream totally nude with Hob’s hand just millimeters away from his flushed, heavy prick. “Someone’s eager,” he smiles, taking him in hand and gently stroking the delicate, velvety flesh. “Gods above, Dream, you have the most gorgeous cock I’ve ever seen.”

It really is lovely—long and slim and rosy, all wreathed in soft black curls. Even his balls are pretty; plump and pert and perfectly round. Hob wriggles down the bed and nuzzles into the hot, solid length, relishing the weight of it on his face. He licks from the base to the tip, laving his tongue over the leaking slit before mouthing his way back down to his balls, sucking on each of them in turn. Above him, Dream breathes heavily and lets out quiet little whimpers. Hob strokes his thighs—he’s so tense, his muscles taut as a bowstring beneath his silken skin.

“Relax, darling,” Hob says, placing a kiss to the bony jut of his pelvis. “I’ve got you. Just let go and enjoy yourself.” He returns to his task of exploring Dream’s cock with his tongue, and Dream takes a long, quivering breath, loosening a fraction as he exhales. Hob can’t help but feel a bit smug at the knowledge that he’s gotten Dream so worked up he’s apparently forgotten he doesn’t need to breathe. “That’s it, love. Let me take care of you.”

He takes Dream’s bollocks into his mouth again, then moves lower to give a tentative lick to his hole. Dream gasps and startles at that, and Hob hears a choked-off “ah!” somewhere above his head.

Hmm, interesting.

Hob raises his head to see Dream looking down at him in wonder, mouth agape and eyes glazed. His cheeks are flushed a deep rose, and glistening drops of pre-cum decorate the alabaster plane of his abdomen. Hob smiles up at him, tracing a finger around the tight, twitching furl of muscle. “Has anyone ever touched you here before?” he murmurs.

“No,” Dream replies in a trembling whisper.

“May I?” Hob asks gently?

“Please,” Dream sighs, and Hob nearly comes untouched on the spot.

He slides a pillow under Dream’s hips and pushes his thighs upwards, gliding his hands along the smooth white flesh and trailing light kisses down to his spread arse cheeks. “Gonna make you feel so good, love. Just promise you’ll tell me to stop if I do anything you don’t like, alright?”

He glances up to see Dream nodding frantically, his eyes wide and black and glittering. “Yes. I trust you, Hob,” he says again.

Hob grins before diving in and licking a stripe from his entrance to his bollocks and back down, circling his tongue around the rim and nibbling at the tender pucker of milky skin. Dream moans and keens beautifully as Hob thoroughly slicks his hole with saliva, slurping and suckling and reveling in the sensation of Dream’s hairless, baby-soft flesh against his cheeks and chin. He dips his tongue inside, and Dream wails while Hob hums and groans enthusiastically. Dream is hot inside, and he tastes of petrichor and electricity and something Hob can’t identify but that he knows down to the very foundations of his soul (dreams, his mind supplies. He tastes like dreams).

“Hob!” Dream gasps, his voice rough and rasping. “Please—please—!”

Hob works his tongue in deeper, then pulls back and jabs it in again and again, until Dream is mewling and sobbing and writhing in ecstasy. He thinks he doesn’t want? I could teach him to want. Eat him out for hours until he’s sobbing and begging to come.

Just as the vision materializes in his head, Dream howls and clenches around Hob’s tongue. “Yes! Yes, Hob, please please please—I want—ahh!”

Hob has long suspected that his old friend could read his mind, and this all but confirms it. He shivers as he realizes the potential there—the possibilities are, well, endless. Hob withdraws his tongue and glances up, only to be met with the most beautiful sight he’s ever witnessed: Dream, red-faced and panting, his chest heaving, his lovely prick rock hard and leaking steadily against his porcelain stomach.

“Look at you. So bloody gorgeous,” Hob says hoarsely. “How are you feeling, darling? Good?” Dream nods, and Hob smiles and nuzzles against the back of his thigh. “Be a dear and grab the lube? It’s just in the top drawer there.” He tilts his head in the direction of the nightstand and Dream twists around to procure the half-empty pump bottle.

“It is not necessary,” Dream mumbles once he’s remembered to catch his breath, though he nonetheless hands the bottle over. “You cannot hurt me.”

“I know,” Hob replies lightly, shrugging one shoulder. “All the same, I’d prefer not to risk it. Indulge me.”

Dream’s lip quirks and he huffs a tiny laugh before settling back onto the pillows, graciously allowing Hob to continue. Of course he’d be a pillow princess, Hob thinks fondly as he squirts a generous amount of lube onto his fingers, spreading it over Dream’s puffy, fluttering hole. He works a finger inside slowly, and Dream makes the sweetest little noises as Hob strokes his tight, satiny walls and brings his other hand to Dream’s throbbing cock. Dream moans and arches upward into his hand, sighing in relief as the tension begins to bleed from his body.

“That’s it, darling. You’re doing so well. Just let go,” Hob coos. He adds a second finger and finds Dream’s prostate, brushing over it teasingly on every other thrust. “You feel so bloody good inside. Would love to fuck you sometime. Want you to fuck me, too. I could ride that beautiful cock of yours all day. Would you like that, love?”

“Yes—Hob—anything—please!” Dream cries breathlessly, grinding down wantonly on Hob’s fingers.

“Mm, we’ll work up to that. Right now I’d like to get my mouth on you, and you’re not going to last much longer, are you sweetheart?”

“I can—” Dream begins what would no doubt have been a devastating retort, but it tapers off into a high, quavering whine as Hob lowers his mouth to his cock, sinking down in a slow glide until he can feel the bulbous head in the back of his throat, trickling a warm rivulet of pre-come. He swallows, and Dream’s hands fly to his hair, gripping tightly as he starts fucking furiously into Hob’s mouth. Hob groans and ruts his own aching cock against the mattress as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of Dream’s slick, clutching entrance. It’s raw and rough and animalistic, and Hob is more than happy to let Dream use him however he pleases right now; he might come just from this.

With no warning save for a guttural growl and a stutter of his hips, Dream comes down Hob’s throat in thick, hot spurts. He shudders and gasps, tugging roughly on Hob’s hair before abruptly going limp and boneless. Hob swallows down the last drops of spend and slowly pulls his mouth and fingers away, panting raggedly.

He crawls up the bed to wrap Dream in his arms, pressing gentle kisses to his neck and shoulders. “You did so well, love,” Hob whispers proudly. “So beautiful when you let go like that.”

Dream hums and grinds languidly against Hob’s still-hard prick where it rests between the cleft of his arse. He wriggles around in Hob’s hold and captures his mouth in a deep, desperate kiss. He trails his lips along Hob’s jaw, down his neck and chest, steadily traveling southward until he is face to face with Hob’s cock. It’s a bit shorter than Dream’s, albeit thicker, and darker-toned; not as pretty, in Hob’s opinion, though Dream would appear to disagree—he’s practically got hearts in his eyes as he glides his cheek along the hefty, engorged length. He glances hesitantly up at Hob through his thick lashes, looking almost shy.

“You don’t have to, love,” Hob smiles down at him, running his fingers through Dream’s downy, soot-dark hair. “I just wanted to make you feel good, is all.”

“Indeed?” Dream smirks. “I thought that you were teaching me to indulge. So. Won’t you indulge me?”

Hob lets out a delighted laugh. “Well, suppose I can’t argue with that.”

Dream makes a noise of agreement, then swiftly takes Hob’s cock into his mouth, swallowing him to the root in the blink of an eye. Hob gasps at the sudden velvety warmth enveloping his prick, and his hips jerk involuntarily. Dream stills him with surprisingly strong hands, pinning him down and bobbing his head in quick, fluid motions. Dream’s mouth is… fucking sublime. Christ’s bloody wounds, he’s good at this. Hob brings his hands to Dream’s hair, not pulling but stroking and kneading his scalp. Dream rumbles in approval, his deep moans vibrating through Hob’s cock, and Hob throws his head back against the pillows.

“Not gonna last,” he grunts in warning.

Dream only takes him deeper, hollowing out his cheeks and slurping hungrily as he bobs his head faster. Hob looks down to see Dream gazing up at him with a blissfully dazed expression, his forget-me-not blue eyes glassy and his cheeks streaked with tears. Hob is hit with a flash of deja vu; he’s fantasized about exactly this on many a lonely night over the centuries, though his imaginings never came close to the divine, earth-shattering perfection that is Dream’s mouth. He comes with a choked sob, flooding Dream’s mouth with a torrent of spend, and Dream’s eyes flutter shut as he swallows it down eagerly.

“I love you—!” The words escape unbidden in a breathless whisper, dragged forth from somewhere deep within the core of Hob’s being, unable to be contained any longer after being left unsaid for over 600 years. Hob doesn’t realize what he’s said until Dream freezes, tightening his grasp on Hob’s hips and digging his sharp fingernails into his flesh. Then, he’s crawling up Hob’s body like a tiger pinning its prey, steely eyes boring straight into his soul.

Fuck. Of course, had to go and fuck it all up, didn’t you?

“You mean that,” Dream intones, low and sonorous. It is not a question.

“Yes,” Hob replies softly, his voice wavering as he braces himself for the inevitable swirl of sand as Dream disappears.

Instead, Dream swoops down and captures Hob’s mouth in a savage, frenzied kiss, growling and digging his fingers possessively into Hob’s ribcage. He claims him with kisses and bites and scratches and bruises, descending on Hob like a starving man on a feast, and Hob is only too pleased to let Dream glut himself on him. Dream could devour him whole, if that would make him happy.

Once he has thoroughly left his mark, Dream runs his eyes over Hob’s body in apparent satisfaction before nestling into his side and draping himself over his chest. “I think,” Dream says, curling a tuft of chest hair around his long pale fingers, “that I feel the same. About you.” He buries his face in Hob’s neck, and Hob pulls him into a crushing embrace, beaming as he plants a kiss to the top of his head.

“So,” Hob laughs through joyous tears, “would you still say you’re just existing? Because I think we did a lot of living today.”

Dream huffs into his shoulder. “You make a convincing argument,” he concedes, his voice muffled. Then he raises his head to look at Hob, his eyes shining with amusement. “However, I believe I will need more evidence before I can draw an accurate conclusion.”

“Oh, just you wait, darling,” Hob grins. “I happen to be an expert on living, and I’m going to show you all the little things that make it worthwhile.”

Dream’s smile fades slightly at that. Hob brings a hand to his cheek, tilting Dream’s chin up and meeting him in a tender kiss. “Hey,” he whispers. “D’you want to tell me what’s been going on? It’s just… Clearly, something’s bothering you, love. And if there’s any way I can help… You know I’d do anything for you, Dream.”

“You have helped. More than you realize. And… I will tell you what has happened. What I have done. Not today, but… I will tell you. Though you may come to hate me for it,” Dream sighs heavily.

“I could never hate you,” Hob replies automatically. Because it’s true; he’d fallen arse over teakettle for Dream when he thought he was the actual devil. “Whatever happened, we’ll sort it out, eh?”

Dream simply stares at him for a long moment before speaking again. “What do you think happens to a character when their story has finished being told?”

“Er—” Hob doesn’t know what he was expecting Dream to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. Dream has him fixed with a piercing gaze, obviously awaiting a well-thought-out answer. “Well… I guess that’s up to the character do decide, isn’t it? Once the story is over, they’re free to do what they want, I suppose.” He shrugs. This discussion is far too deep for pillow talk.

Dream frowns, furrowing his brows as he considers. “I believe there is some merit to your words,” he pronounces thoughtfully. “I have long believed that I have no story of my own. Perhaps I am wrong.”

“Maybe you’re just in the wrong story,” Hob yawns. He’s honestly lost the thread a bit by this point, and he’s not entirely sure what they were talking about to begin with. But that feels like the right thing to say, and Dream evidently agrees as he rests his cheek on Hob’s chest, just over his heart.

“Perhaps,” Dream murmurs, almost inaudibly.

“Like I said,” Hob says, stroking lightly down his back. “We’ll sort it out.” He yawns again, then winces at the strain on his sore jaw. “Tomorrow, though. Because I am absolutely knackered, darling.”

Dream hums, burrowing contently into Hob’s hold. “Yes. Sleep, beloved. And dream of me.”

Hob chuckles drowsily. “I always do.”

✨✨✨

Thanks for reading! Reblogs, as well as kudos and comments on ao3 are always appreciated! 💗💗💗

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— CITY GROWN WILLOW

SUMMARY : in which dean doesn’t die in 15.20 and he’s a stay-at-home dad (hot as hell) and the reader works at a company (vague as hell).

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : dylan (OMC), andy (OMC), daphne (OFC)

WARNINGS/TAGS : nsfw(18+), smut, pregnant sex, oral sex, fluff, ANGST, sexual harassment

WORD COUNT : 7.1K

A/N : title from radio company’s song. I wrote this while rewatching the Winchesters 😭 god, I miss dean so bad. also, I edited this while watching she-hulk when it was airing. anyway, enjoy this long masterpiece since I’ve been neglecting y’all :( X

Y/N chuckled softly at her colleague Dylan. He’d been a good friend for two and a half years. Ever since he started to work for her, he’d been really helpful and cooperative, taking the lead when she wasn’t there to make sure everything was still as it should be.

They had a meeting to talk about a project he wanted to speak to her about and Y/N had accepted his request to hear him out. She was a little confused by the fancy place he’d chosen, but she’d gone anyway and left Dean with the twins and Mavis. He’d whined and pouted adorably before kissing her goodbye even though he knew days before she’d be busy that night.

She’d been nervous for a month. And yeah, maybe she accepted Dylan’s offer because she didn’t want Dean to see her naked, or more.. the bump that started to show which she hid beneath loose dresses like the current black kimono dress her best friend Daphne got her for Christmas.

She made multiple excuses the whole month to not be near Dean, either in the morning or the night, when he was still awake, but she made up for it by buying him gifts and having lunch with him during his break. Innocently, no funny business. And she’d told no one she’s pregnant, as if it made it any less real that she was carrying a baby inside her when the last one she and Dean had was barely five years old.

She wasn’t sure she could handle it or that Dean could—but mostly, she didn’t think she could.

So, she declined the red wine Dylan ordered for her—which irritated her a little because he knew she never drank in the first place. And she didn’t make a big deal out of it, chalked it up to his busy mind forgetting, and slowly started to eat her meal while listening to him talk about things that had nothing to do with work. She let him talk about whatever he wanted to because the more time she wasted at the restaurant with him, the less chance she had of seeing Dean—well, the less chance she had to spend the whole night lying to him about the fact that she was pregnant.

Dylan relaxed a little against the booth, but she remained tense, her mind racing about the thought of her being pregnant but also about how to tell Dean. That’s how she’d spent most of her month. Her mind was someplace else, but her body was still in reality, automatically being attentive so no one would ask her what was wrong. Although, she may have missed the hints Dylan had been throwing her way, comments about how she looked more beautiful than usual, and how she was the perfect woman a man could ask for.

She’d shrugged it off the way she usually did, not really wanting to deal with the fact that her friend was literally flirting with her. Mostly, not wanting to accept that the only reason he got close to her was because he had romantic feelings for her, knowing in full that she was married and had kids. But especially not wanting to think too hard about the way he’s tried touching her, knowing she was married, but also, knowing that she didn’t like to be touched. And though she should have paid more attention, should have talked to Dylan directly instead of saying ‘stop’ or ‘no’, after she recoiled from his touch and shoved him off of her when he’d go for it again with a little more force… she didn’t think she needed to say more since she had made it clear that his advances were undesired on her part.

When she dumped work and projects on him so he could take half of what she had on her plate—a clear sign that he was just a colleague and a friend to her, she’d imagined he’d hate her. Instead, he took it as her wanting to spend time with him. Even though when he got her to talk, all she could talk about was Dean and her kids. When he’d make unpleasant comments about Dean’s job or the way Dean dressed, she’d defend her husband with a little confusion and ferocity while Dylan just laughed it off and claimed he was joking.

If she thought about it too hard, it hurt so bad on top of the fact that she was too stressed with being in charge of the Space Technology and Exploration section of Morningstar Industries, making sure her kids were doing good in school and knowing she was present in their lives, but also making sure she wasn’t fully neglecting her wonderful husband who truly didn’t deserve that she was lying to him.

Then, she’d been afraid for a while when she’d spoken to the board director, Andy, her close friend, and blurted out how uncomfortable Dylan had been making her feel with his words and his actions. He’d stared at her worriedly, anger darkening his eyes which she’d nearly missed, and then she forgot about it in between all her work and the mess in her brain.

But it all seemed so much worse at night. When she’d return from work, when she’d cry in the shower, and then laid in bed with her mind racing endlessly so she’d wake up as exhausted as she’d been before she slept.

There were too many things and her temper was short, overstimulated by all the tiny things that she could usually handle a little better than she had recently. And she dreaded to think of the possibility that she’d hurt Dean’s feelings, or Wanda’s, or Bruce’s, or Mavis’. And she worried about having done something wrong when she signed off on projects or something else because she simply wasn’t retaining the information on the endless sheets of paper.

She even had a copious amount of work and projects that she left half-finished, which was mostly normal, but it had now piled up to being too much, and when Dylan offered to help her, he’d been like a hero to her. He took most of the weight, but clearly expected something from her that she was never going to give.

When he’d finished and she’d abandoned her plate of food, only capturing the first and last topic he’d spoken of—which was typical as well—she’d smiled at him tightly. She was so good at pretending she’d listen because she usually could. Typically, she missed a few bits and pieces of information—since her mind went off to think of something to add to what the other person said, where she’d stop herself outwardly, but internally continued her own monologue and completely forgot about what the person was saying, which was never her intention.

Dylan leaned forward slightly, his eyes suddenly different, his soft and slightly moist hand landing on top of hers—specifically the one that had the white gold wedding band and engagement ring Dean picked out. She froze, stared into his icy blue eyes with her breath caught in her throat, suddenly all her thoughts were silent, but just for a moment before they started up again thinking of all the things this could mean.

“I didn’t just want to talk about work…” he started, his soft voice made her stomach churn and she didn’t know if it was the fact that she was pregnant, stressed, if it was the food she partially ate, or simply the disgust she felt knowing where this was going. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together and I.. well, I always thought you were breathtaking and.. I think you feel the same about me… you know? I.. I’m in love with you…”

She had to swallow the bit of bile that raised up her oesophagus, sweat breaking out on her hairline, her heart beating fast. She moved her hand out from under his and his cheek twitched with irritation when she reached for her glass of icy water and downed all of it. The cold liquid swished around her insides and she felt too suffocated, grateful that people were mostly quiet, that the tables were separated from each other, and that the lights were mostly dim because she would have had a fit and left dramatically from overstimulation.

He cleared his throat and she looked up from the white cloth that covered the table, his long dirty blond hair fell over one half of his face and he chuckled nervously, reaching over to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“I’m married,” she reminded him lamely, recoiling at his touch. His hand froze midair and he wrapped it around her wrist where her electronic watch rested. He played with the magnet of the steel band and scooted forward across the table until she could smell the wine in his breath.

She really had been so oblivious all this time.

When the watch turned on to reveal a picture of Dean carrying both Wanda and Bruce when she’d given birth to them, he glared at it. Guilt from lying to Dean and shame from having missed all the signs of harassment burned up her throat to the tips of her ears.

“Lots of married people have affairs,” he commented offhandedly. Her lips parted in shock, her brain moving slowly when he slid around the booth to sit next to her. Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest, fearful when his hand appeared on her knee, his thumb brushing against the inside of her thigh.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out. He froze, staring at her in surprise, but he had something for that too somehow. While she felt a sense of relief saying it out loud, the fear that had frozen her in her seat still hadn’t dissipated.

“That’s not a problem,” he said calmly, leaning forward, but she moved back until his hand stopped her by covering the back of her neck to pull her towards him again. “People can still have sex when they’re pregnant.. Stop playing hard to get, I know you want me.” Suddenly all her weakening emotions flew out of her body until anger boiled over her blood. She got up abruptly and glared at him, shoving the table into him, trapping him from escaping and also making her neglected wine glass tip over to stain his suit in red. “What the fuck?!” He hissed angrily, failing to even budge the table away from his body.

“I’ve told you over and over again not to touch me,” she spat, “and if the way I always moved away from you wasn’t a fucking obvious sign that you disgust me, I hope this helps: you’re fucking fired.” She picked up her bag and shoved the chair she’d been sitting in with the back of her knees until it nearly fell over. Suddenly people looked at them and Dylan looked away from her, smiling as if everything was okay, but there was anger in his eyes when he looked up at her.

“You liked it, you whore,” he growled, shame wrenched her heart and tears pooled in her eyes, “stop victimising yourself when you’ve been leading me on for two years.” Instead of saying anything, her tongue heavy in her mouth, she turned quickly and made her way out of the restaurant. His words stabbed her chest until she couldn’t breathe because she suddenly felt like she should have done so much more to stop him and she began imagining all the times she’d shrugged him off but should have been more clear and assertive about not wanting his touch.

Maybe it was her fault after all and she shouldn’t be complaining.

“Miss!” A woman’s voice stopped her as she shoved the glass door open, a sob tearing its way out of her throat when the cold air pricked her hot skin. “Are you okay, dear?” The lady asked softly, keeping a safe distance as Y/N cried quietly, looking at the ground in shame and embarrassment. “Honey, pass me your handkerchief,” she ordered and footsteps came closer and Y/N only felt the soft cotton collect and absorb her hot tears.

“I need to get home,” Y/N whispered, trying to smile, but she knew not a muscle in her face relaxed as she looked at the older woman and her husband.

“You shouldn’t be driving right now,” her husband spoke up worriedly. Y/N glanced over at him and felt another wave of pain pour through her eyes with heat and salty stings just from the kindness that seemed to crack and burst out all the emotions she’d been pushing down for a month.

“Oh, darling,” the woman spoke softly, gently taking Y/N’s purse from her tight grip and fishing her phone out easily. “Is this your husband?” She quickly accessed Y/N’ contacts and went to the emergency list with Dean’s name at the top, with a squirrel and a green leaves emojis. Y/N nodded, embarrassed, and took the handkerchief with the initials H.H. to wipe her own tears even though now, she couldn’t stop them from spilling uncontrollably.

While Y/N continued to look down in shame, people walked around them, minding their business. Even people who clearly saw the scene were exiting the restaurant and ignoring them, too. She relaxed when the woman’s expensive and warm perfume engulfed her, reminding Y/N of her mother when she rubbed her gentle hand up and down her back. Y/N’ phone rang once and Dean picked up.

“Sweetheart?” His voice was deep with sleep and warmth melted her heart and sweetened the bitterness when the sound flowed to her heart like honey and tea, but the tears kept falling as she cried silently in the woman’s arms.

“Hi, I’m Jan,” she started but Dean immediately cut her off.

“Where’s my wife?” She heard the panic and guardedness in his voice and she nearly took the phone knowing all the worst possible scenarios that rushed through his mind, but the woman smiled fondly.

“I’m here with her,” Jan reassured him. “Could you come pick her up? She’s…” Jan gazed at Y/N, her gaze piercing her walls as if she knew everything but also, failing to find the words to not invalidate or exaggerate Y/N’s experience and emotions. “You should be here. My husband and I are staying here with her and we won’t leave her side until you’ve here, she’s safe with us. You have my word.”

Dean was silent and Y/N didn’t know if he was frozen in fear like she’d been minutes before or if he was leaving the house in a hurry until heard him thank Jan while breathing heavily and heard the familiar creak of the Impala’s doors before he said goodbye, promising to be there as quickly as he could.

And he did. But not fast enough to have witnessed Dylan shamelessly try to get to her. But Y/N was glad he didn’t because she was humiliated enough already and felt so much gratitude towards both Jan and her husband. Her husband, Harry, who had shoved and insulted Dylan, then threatened to plaster his name in the paper for what he’d witnessed him doing.

The beautiful rumble of Dean’s car made her heart leap with relief and excitement, fleeting emotions that were replaced with the same bitter ones when she saw him in his pyjamas, the bags under his eyes, and the worry that deepened his frown and creased between his brows when he saw that she had been crying.

Dean quickly jogged towards her, looking at both Jan and Harry with confusion and wariness until Jan slowly let Y/N walk weakly towards Dean. Jan’s heart was both breaking and melting when Y/N slumped against Dean’s body, crying again—as hard as she had when she stepped out of the restaurant.

Dean held her tight, kissed her temple and let her calm down in his embrace. The kind couple stepped forward like a wall that gave them privacy from the few people that watched what was happening. The tiredness Dean felt was replaced with adrenaline, but upon finding Y/N safe from physical harm, he allowed himself to just be there for her, hurting about the fact that something else had harmed her, something that he couldn’t kill or fight off.

“Let’s get her in your car, son,” Harry suggested, smiling kindly at Dean. Dean nodded and hesitantly pulled away, refusing to look at the anguish on Y/N’ face so he could remain strong. He let Jan guide Y/N into the passenger seat, keeping an ear open for the way she spoke quietly and kindly to Y/N before he spoke to Harry.

“What happened?” Dean asked, the feeling of inadequacy making him cross his arms over his chest, covering the white t-shirt Y/N had given him as a joke a few Christmases ago.

“I…” Harry paused, glancing over at his wife and at Y/N. “A man she was having dinner with just.. treated her terribly and said such horrendous things. My wife and I heard most of it… He was out of line, completely disgusting, and was a huge, immature asshole.” Dean’s jaw clenched and he glared over Harry’s shoulder, behind holes into the glass building. Had Dean been Superman, the entire building would have been demolished. “Son?” Harry broke Dean’s glare and patted his shoulder. “I could have that man’s reputation destroyed. When your wife opens up, give her time.. give me a call.” He handed Dean a card and Dean took it nodding while he read Harry Holden, the newspaper name, his email, and number on the other side.

“Thanks, sir, truly,” Dean finally told him, getting in the driver’s seat and waving goodbye to the two people that gave him hope that there were truly kind people out there, people who still do the bare minimum and also go out of their way to do something good just for the sake of decency.

Y/N played with her dress and avoided Dean’s gaze, flinching a little when he put his hand on her knee. Dean felt hurt for a second, then composed himself as he drove away, deciding quickly that they should stay somewhere else for the time being, until she felt better.

He stopped at a rather expensive hotel and saw her finally look at him, confused mostly by his decision. Her face devastated his heart more than any tragedy he’d faced because he wasn’t used to seeing Y/N the way she looked now. His heart sank to the deepest pit as if turning his skin inside out, leaving his heart bare and broken until it stopped beating, unable to start up again.

“D…” she whispered. Her cold hands on his face brought him back to his senses, thoughts about his actions ran through his mind and suddenly he found himself synchronised with her.

“I’m calling Daph,” he told her, shoving his hands into his pockets and calling Daphne who picked up nearly as quickly as he had, tiredness coating her voice along with a yawn. “Hey, I need to ask for a favour,” he started.

“Sure, Dean-o,” she mumbled.

“Could you check on the kids?” He asked, then elaborated. “Y/N and I are… we’re gonna be away from home for a few days.. is that asking too much? I’m sorry, I know it’s sudden-”

“Dean, don’t stress about it,” she reassured him. “I’ll be there in ten, you don’t have to explain, you know I’d do anything for the two of you.” Dean sighed a breath of relief and relaxed, too afraid to look at Y/N.

“Thanks so much, you’re… the best friend we could ask for.”

“Don’t mention it. Love you guys, be safe!”

Dean sat in silence for a while before taking his wallet and pulling out his card to pay for the room. Y/N let him take control of the situation even though she wanted to argue and not be far from home, but maybe she needed this. A little getaway with her husband to finally tell him she was pregnant and to ease his mind about what had happened because now that she was calm, she felt ridiculous and ashamed.

“Come on, baby, take your heels off,” he spoke softly, leaning over to open the door before he locked the car. He got out and jogged around the front to get to her side, opened the door and picked her up bridal style.

Dean made his way to the hotel and smiled at the young man at the front desk, tucking Y/N’ head into his neck, her arms holding him tightly as he made his way to the elevator without a word and to their room, both of them practically empty-handed with her purse dangling off his shoulder.

“I wanna shower,” she murmured when he set her down on the bed. He only turned the lamps on so it wasn’t too bright and she appreciated it. He nodded and started to undo the belt around her waist, taking note of her tense body, so he slowed down and stopped unbuttoning the dress.

“Is this okay?” He whispered, waiting for her to speak up before he made a single move. She nodded and whispered her consent, letting him unbutton the black dress all the way, pushing it off her shoulders, his eyes glued to the thin, gold necklace her brother gave her on her birthday.

He expertly unclasped her lace bra, his fingers brushing gently across her skin made her shiver pleasantly as he removed it. His eyes fell to her breasts but he kept his mind out of the gutter, watched her put her hands flat on the bed and lift her hips for him to remove her matching black panties.

It was so intimate. He inadvertently turned both of them on.

His fingernails gently grazed the skin of her hips, their breaths growing heavy, his fingers slowly pulled the lace down her legs and off her feet. He didn’t dare to make anything sexual, as much as he wanted to fuck his worry and adrenaline away, he was being more mindful of what she needed.

He helped her up and didn’t stare at her naked body when he removed his shirt and pyjamas, only a little embarrassed that he wasn’t wearing any boxers. He led her to the bathroom as he warmed up the shower, his hand extended to get the water to the right temperature. She bit her lip anxiously in the meantime, her arms keeping her small bump out of view, tears building up again when he turned to face her.

His face fell and his beautiful hands were on her face, holding her jaw as gently as he’d hold a baby bird. His arms wrapped around her small frame, holding her close, comforting her with his arms loose around her waist to not overwhelm her. She felt a powerful surge of love and affection for the man and blurted out what had been stressing her out.

“I’m pregnant.” He gasped and pulled away to look her in the eyes and then down at the tiny little bump on her stomach that he missed when stripping her. “I’m sorry, I’ve known for a month and I’m just scared-”

“It’s okay, baby,” he reassured her, shushing her.

“No, I… I’ve been a horrible wife,” she sobbed, wiggling out of his arms. He easily let her go to have her space, keeping his own tears at bay while watching her with despair.

“No, you haven’t,” he argued softly.

“Yeah and a bad mother. Everything’s my fault.” He shook his head, kissing her cheek softly, his lips moving over the expanse of her face, reaching her lips for his final destination.

“I’m thrilled that you’re pregnant, okay? I truly am.” He reassured her. “And I know how stressful it can be for you to be pregnant and I know how much you worry about me and the kids, but we can handle it, sweetheart.” She continued to cry quietly, his thumbs gently wiping away her tears. “They love you so much, I love you so much, and you’re the most amazing mother they could have asked for, just like you’re the most amazing wife in the entire universe, hell maybe the best out of every universe.”

“Whatever happened tonight sweetheart… I’m so sorry. I…” he sighed, pressing his forehead against hers, his eyes shut as he breathed shakily.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered, taking his breaded jaw in her hand to kiss him chastely. “I think I was just overreacting… my hormones, you know how they get… wonky,” she tried smiling, pulling away to watch him shake his head.

“If two people watched what happened and took time out of their night to help you, you weren’t overreacting,” he told her firmly. “I know you usually deal with things by dissociating or detaching from it and downplaying your feelings, but I’m not letting you do that. Just like you don’t let me do it.” She blinked at him, feeling a new wave of emotions followed by gratitude and love. “We don’t need to talk about it right now and there’s no deadline, but just talk to someone—or me when you’re ready, instead of pushing it down or invalidating yourself from how hurt you are about it.” He smiled at her gently, lovingly kissing her forehead and stepped into the shower, while holding her hand so she’d join him as she regained most of her wits.

“I love you, Dean,” she whispered, feeling like those words simply weren’t enough to describe the amount of affection that bloomed in her chest like a trillion galaxies being born.

“I know,” he smiled playfully, holding her close when she followed him inside the foggy stall. She smiled softly at him and shook her head, standing beneath the shower head with him, the hot water comforting as it hit her skin and relaxed her muscles.

He took care of her the whole time, wiping away the eyeliner that was now messy, but otherwise her face was bare, the red liquid tint on her lips having faded away at this point, leaving her lips a cotton candy colour. He smiled lovingly at her, leaning down to kiss her passionately before he washed her hair and then her body while keeping himself mostly dry.

“There,” he chuckled, bumping the bottom of her chin gently with his finger curled. “Good girl,” he murmured, turning the shower off, reaching out for one of the towels to wrap around her, letting her dry herself off so he could do the same to himself.

“Thanks,” she smiled at him tiredly, drying her hair with the towel and stepping back into the bedroom, standing in front of him when he slipped on his pyjama pants again, and handed her his shirt to sleep in. The white shirt with The Avongers and bootleg Avengers characters over the chest made her smile and she watched him get the bed ready.

His muscles flexed when he tugged the soft sheets from how tightly they fit the bed, his tiny waist and his broad shoulders when he turned his back to her distracted her from putting the shirt on. Instead, she checked him out, his firm ass in the soft pyjama pants, the muscles in his back moving beneath his skin, the dip of his spine down his back one of the most beautiful things she’d seen. When he turned to his side, his stomach--just a little soft--became taut with his efforts, lost in his mind as he freed the gold and white satin sheets.

His huge arms continued to tighten as he travelled to the other side of the bed, the v-line going down his hips caused her teeth to bite down at her lip. Even his pecs right now were doing wonders, his thick fingers wrapping around the sheets and tugging expertly that she didn’t even care that she was staring at him shamelessly, the ring on his finger was probably the hottest thing right now.

That was her husband.

The man who grew out his beard, something she thought she’d hate until the coarse hairs actually ended up feeling arousing between her legs and against her breasts. The man who kept his hair a little longer just for her, soft between her fingers and so pullable. The way the soft strands of his honey-coloured hair fell over his magnificent face looked like streams of sunlight in the spring, his mossy green eyes likes a forest of utter beauty that no one could compare to, and his freckles were a thousand constellations that glowed like gold dust along the canvas of his face.

His pretty plump lips were a shade darker now from having bitten them due to his focus on releasing the sheets from the tight embrace around the mattress, and wet from his soft tongue. He’d innocently looked up at her, expecting her to have been ready for bed, but instead he found her aroused, her cheeks pink and her nipples tight, her breathing heavy and short.

He caught her eyes as they teased his body, a shaky breath making its way past her parted lips, the most breathtaking crinkles appeared around his eyes when he chuckled, gracing her with a shy smile. “What?” He asked softly, pink flushing his cheeks up to the tips of his ears.

“You know it always turns me on to see you do anything, especially shirtless,” she murmured casually, feeling no confidence to actually tease him the way she usually did and feeling disgusted with herself from the events that unfolded in the past month to even feel any pleasure from him. So she looked away and was about to put his shirt on when he stopped her.

“Don’t.” He made his way to her, grabbing the shirt and throwing it across the room and onto the couch a few feet away from them.

“I haven’t shaved,” she gasped, kissing him back when he pressed his lips against hers, soft and warm. He quickly parted his lips to deepen the kiss. His tongue teasingly moved into her mouth when she’d opened up to him instantly despite her weak argument, knowing that Dean wasn’t the type of man who actually required a woman to look a specific way.

He wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her close, a little moan from him muffled by her mouth against his. She gave into him without hesitation, her arms circling around his neck, her fingers tugging gently at the short hairs behind his head, soft the way they always were. An appreciative hum rumbled in his chest, her entire body stretched up to reach her tall husband.

He turned them both around so her back faced the bed instead of his, pulling away from the kiss for his lips to travel down her neck. His hot breath and wet tongue licked at her clean skin and sucked gently at her pulse. He made his way down her neck and bit her shoulder possessively. She buried her fingers into his downy hair, closing her eyes, her chest rising and falling quickly from lustful breaths she took.

He loosened his arms from around her waist and held the beautiful curve of it in his large hands, his fingers brushing gently against her ribcage. He moved his mouth down to her breasts, and she instinctively arched her back so he didn’t have to bend over her so much. It turned him on, in his mind, that one move was her offering herself to him completely.

He moved his hands up to cup her breasts in his hands, the warmth and roundness of them in his large palms nearly made him believe she was small chested. His fingers gently brushed around her nipples, his warm breath puffing over them so she could feel them tighten before he even did anything. His lips wrapped around one, his teeth gently scraping along her sensitive flesh while his tongue mimicked his fingers, feeling the texture of her silky flesh against his wet tongue.

He sucked on it gently, his hands squeezed both her breasts, but he quickly pinched and tweaked the other one, reaching down to squeeze her fleshy ass. She moaned softly, her thigh gently passing between his legs and rubbing his stiff cock. A moan rippled out of him and he blindly chased her hand when he switched the stimulation of her breasts, putting his mouth on the other and letting the room temperature do its work on her glistening nipple.

He guided her hand into his pants, biting down roughly on her flesh when she brushed her fingers down the length of him. She whined at the bite, rubbing her thighs together awkwardly to feel some relief, his heavy cock resting in her small hand. She wanted to be doing this to him, touching him teasingly for all the neglect he endured on her side.

She tugged at his hair once, moving both of her hands to his hips and lowered his pyjamas so they slipped down his legs easily. Before she could do anything more, he stepped out of them and dropped to his knees, his lips kissing down between her breasts, over her growing belly and finally to her pelvis.

She cupped his jaw and moved his gaze away from between her legs, an embarrassed look on her face because she usually kept herself either completely shaved or trimmed. He grabbed her hand and kissed her wrist to ease her unsteadiness. He then moved her hands away from his jaw and onto his head so he could taste her, so she could pull at his hair.

He gently pushed her thighs apart with the backs of his hands, only slightly. He moved forward experimentally, the curly hairs tickling his nose and she felt embarrassed the whole time, her grip on his hair tightening and she looked away when heat grew up her neck to the tips of her ears. The last time she was that bushy, she was in university and completely uninterested in romance, but ever since Dean—despite him never asking for it—she would shave. And despite him never showing or voicing a preference, she never stopped doing it.

Dean liked it. Right now, like this.

His fingers parted her warm folds and he found her clit easily. A hissed curse slipped past her lips when his tongue flicked against it, teasingly lapping up and down. She moved back until her knees hit the bed and his eyes were glued on her every move. He disappointedly licked his lips but excitement reignited the flame in his green eyes when she laid down and spread her legs for him.

Usually her stomach would cave in when she laid down on her back, but this time, the tiny bump remained and his heart softened, crawling forward to kiss her knees. He lifted her feet up on the bed, staring between her legs and parting her folds with his fingers, licking away at her clit and her entrance.

He watched her writhe under his mouth the way she always did when he teased her. He knew it wasn’t strange to find it arousing. This was his woman, his love, his wife.

He squeezed her thighs with his warm hands, moaning softly against her centre which made her laugh softly. He pulled away from her, smiling at the sound, “move up, angel,” he ordered gently as he stood up. She obeyed quietly, stopping only when he firmly wrapped his fingers around her ankle, his thumb brushing against the protruding bone.

He moved forward, picking up the pillows above her head with the intention of elevating her hips. She instantly knew what he had planned and lifted her hips so he could slide them under her hips, stacked and cushiony. “Ready?” He asked softly, making his way between her legs.

She nodded, gasping when he swiped three fingers from her entrance to her folds, only to bring them to his cock. She blinked at him, turned on when he bit his lip, jerking himself slowly with her arousal, her breath stuttering the moment he moaned. Her toes curled at the sound, her pussy clenching around nothing the way it always did when she so much as looked his way. It didn’t even have to be a sexual situation, which she found embarrassing, and she had never admitted it to him.

He guided his cock to her entrance, smiling down at her way too adorably while the soft head of his cock circled her soaked centre. He gently pushed himself into her and back out, her walls took him in slowly, wetting his dick more and more. He looked between her legs completely unabashed, his lip trapped between his teeth as he watched himself disappear inside her as if he hadn’t seen her take him a thousand other times before.

Still, he was fascinated with how he stretched her open, her tiny cunt opening up to fit all of him the way it always did. She was tight and warm, completely soaking him with every push and pull of his cock, letting her feel every inch of him entering her, but also letting him revel in the velvet walls squeezing around him and creating quick pleasure to his cock.

“Fuck,” he whispered, bottoming out inside her. He bit his lip, his eyes trailing up her body and back down to where he was connected to her, gently pushing his hips into her, his thumb easily finding her clit within the dark curls.

“What?” She asked softly, studying his face, laughter in her eyes when his eyes snapped up to hers innocently.

“You’ve never felt more mine than right now, baby,” he murmured, slowly pulling out of her and then back inside before she could respond to him. As much as he wanted to take his time with her, he knew she would be exhausted tomorrow from her emotions tonight, so he went straight for getting her off. His thumb rubbing gently at her sensitive clit, changing the shapes he made every once in a while until she orgasmed.

The feeling of her walls squeezing his cock drew a deep groan from within his chest. His cock was coated in her cum when he pulled out of her, and his own release followed suit when he pushed back into her warmth. He cursed long and softly, brows drawn together in pleasure as she clung to him, both of them riding the seemingly endless pleasure like gravitational waves after the collision of neutron stars.

Her nails dug marks into his soft skin and she gently released him, watching the exquisite look on his face. The rapture that made her insides tighten deliciously. His lips were parted still, completely breathless. His cheeks were pink and his whole body was hot, covered in a nearly unnoticeable amount of sweat.

He was so beautiful.

“You actually like it?” She asked, flustered when he pulled out of her, their cum oozing out of her, only for him to gently shove a finger into her to keep his cum inside. She clenched around him, familiar with him doing that after he came inside her, which was definitely a reason why she was pregnant so soon.

“What?” He shrugged casually, pulling the pillows from beneath her hips and throwing them carelessly against the headboard. “Yes, okay? Maybe you should let it grow sometimes. It’s hot.” He grinned, leaning over her to kiss her forehead before he stood up to clean her, but also to get the shirt he’d intended for her to wear and to put his pyjama pants on again.

“I think you’re the only one who thinks that,” she called out. It was silent for a few moments as the water from the sink ran in the bathroom loudly and Dean came back with a hand towel and moved between her legs again.

“No, Charlie liked it too,” he revealed, a little smirk on his face when she chuckled. He started to clean her up, gazing down at her in his shirt now, looking completely adorable and comfortable. “And I’m pretty sure more people like it,” he reassured her, playful patting the top of her head. She narrowed her eyes at him despite thinking it felt cute and smiled. She watched him get up to clean himself and discard the towel before returning to her side.

He fixed the pillows on the bed and turned the lamps off so they could lie down and fall asleep comfortably.

He snuck his hand under her shirt, tickling her a little when he rested his hand over her tummy, something he’d always do when she was pregnant. “Wanna pick names?” He asked quietly, scooting so close to her while on his side, he almost reminded her of Bruce, who usually curled up at her side trying to get impossibly close to her.

“Sure,” she smiled softly in the darkness.

“How about Castiel?” He suggested a name immediately and she cringed, chuckling.

“No, Garth already named his kid Castiel,” she told him, which caused him to laugh softly.

“How about… Cassidy?”

“You want a name that starts with C?” She asked, then took his silence and the little nod by her shoulder as a sign for her to give him some examples of what she had in mind. “Like… Casanova? No, Calvin? No, wait, Cara? Caroline? Or Cassian? Casper? Nah, I’m just kidding about that one. Clark? Uh, Casimiro?” She offered, shrugging a little at the end with an amused grin, his hand slowly rubbing along the small curve of her stomach.

“Definitely not Casanova,” he chuckled and she shrugged, laughing. “Ah, right,” he clicked his tongue and she stared at him lovingly. “Cassidy sounds dumb… I’m just gonna ignore Casper. And what the fuck is a Casimiro? I like Clark for a boy and… we can come up with more names for a girl…” She smiled and hummed softly. “I hope we get to have Bruce and Clark, heheh,” he commented cutely.

“You’re so adorable,” she mumbled with a smile, kissing the top of his head. She closed her eyes while trying to picture what her next child will look like. Dean blushed, nuzzling her lovingly as sleep reclaimed him, thinking the same thing as her.

taglist

@rominaszh @livingdeadmak @lanassmarty @murdockscumsock @zepskies @candy-coated-misery0731 @kellynickelss @stxrgazer03 @epsilonsagittarii @lyarr24 @spnfamily-j2 @jessllianaquilesrolonworld @globetrotter28 @deansbbyx

main masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO DEANBRAINROTWRITINGS 

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[idkwhatever580]

I’m sure you could pt. 2

Masterlist

Part 1

Pairings:Natasha romanoff x reader

Prompt: y/n goes with nat as she navigates her way around the red room. (based off of black widow)

Warnings: violence, blood/injuries, trauma probably, red room stuff, swearing. Lmk if I missed any.

A/N: here’s part two!

Here’s the two people that wanted to be tagged in this individually. I can add y’all to the Taglist if you want!!! @alexvausesgirl @rosea-reginae

Y/n’s pov

We’re standing in the streets of Budapest as I look at Natasha for what to do next.

This poor girl just had a “self destruct” mode on her. Like she was an object.

As I watched the life leave her eyes I see a flicker of red. I zone out thinking of what it could be but Nat pulls me with her to get out of there.

Natasha takes me to a messed up apartment looking building and we go up to one of the rooms. Before she goes it she gets a hidden key and whispers in my ear

“Stay here. Whatever you do, do not go inside until I call you okay?”

I nod my head and she hands me a gun to protect myself. I stand against the wall and wait.

As expected they get into a fight, but I really want to go in there. I know Natasha is fully capable of handling Yelena but I’m nervous.

From what I can hear, she’s holding back. If she really wanted to, she’d have snapped her neck in five seconds. But Yelena is her sister. Of course she wouldn’t want that.

It gets quiet and I worry. A lot. But i listen to nat and stay put.

Suddenly Yelena says

“Who’s with you?”

Nat says

“My wife. Y/n you’re okay to come here”

I walk in with the gun still in my hand and I give it to Natasha.

They start talking and I stay quiet.

“You brought it back here?”

“I’m not here trying to be your friend but you need to tell me what that is”

I almost butt in because of how Natasha is talking to her sister. She needs to stop being an asshat.

Then Yelena explains what it is in a bunch of words that are way too big for me.

What I’ve caught is that it’s a gas. And Natasha says

“Maybe in English next time?”

Then Yelena speaks in Russian because she’s petty but I don’t quite understand a bunch of Russian. I know the simple terms. And a few other pet names that Natasha had given me over the years. But not much more.

It’s not like it matters to me anyways.

They banter more back and forth and Natasha starts changing.

She takes off her shirt to show her fresh bruises from her fall off the bridge earlier.

I walk up to her silently and kiss one of them on her shoulder.

I can feel yelenas eyes on us but it fine.

They talk more and then suddenly Yelena brings up the red room.

I thought nat brought down the red room. And she says the same thing. But apparently not.

I look down and realize that it’s been years since she thought she took it down and that there’s probably millions of girls who have gone through the same thing since.

Suddenly we get ambushed and Natasha and Yelena all fit with me onto a motorcycle. Don’t ask me how they did it though. Then we switch into a car. Thank god I was about to fall off.

We barely get away and we are hiding in some vents.

I look over and find some games of tic tac toe and scratches. I trace my fingers along the n and c that were left there.

Goosebumps litter across my skin as I realize she’s been here before. She’s run from people in this exact spot before.

Honestly I haven’t said a word this whole time. So while nat is explaining that she and Clint hid out here for a few days, I grab her hand softly.

I rest my shoulder on hers and she is unbothered. She understands that I need some comfort right now.

We get on the move and end up in a random town late at night. They get drinks and I get a water because I’m dehydrated. They have some banter and Natasha gets up to go get another drink.

Yelena addresses me by my full name probably to intimidate me.

“So. Y/n Romanoff.”

I look up and wait for her to say what she wants to

“You’re my sisters wife.”

I nod my head and she continues

“Which makes us sisters in law”

I once again nod my head. And she asks more questions.

“Do you not speak?”

I shake my head and say

“I can speak. I just haven’t had anything to say”

She nods her head and Natasha sits down and she asks more questions.

“Do you have kids?”

I shake my head and say

“No. I don’t know if we will.”

Natasha agrees and asks the same.

“Do you want kids yel?”

Instead of answering outright she says

“I want a dog”

I nod my head and say

“You’re not into relationships like that are you?”

She shakes her head.

“I don’t know what I am. But I’ve been trying to do some research”

I look her up and down. I knew my gaydar was pinging.

“Aromantic or asexual maybe?”

She nods her head and says

“Something of that nature. I haven’t figured it out yet. But I’m leaning towards that.”

I nod my head and say

“You’ve got lots of time to figure it out. Don’t worry. I’ll support you the whole way.”

She nods her head and looks at her arm. Natasha takes charge and says

“Here. Let me wrap this.”

Yelena hesitates but nods her head and I say

“I’m gonna go to the restroom”

They nod and I leave so that they can talk by themselves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nobody’s pov

As Natasha is pouring alcohol on yelenas injury she says

“Well. You’ve met my wife. What do you think?”

Yelena hums and says

“She seems sweet. She shouldn’t be here though. she doesn’t know what we’re dealing with here”

Natasha nods her head

“I tried to send her home. But she’s hard headed like you. So she insisted. I still tried to send her away but the look she gave me was not one I mess around with.”

Yelena laughs and says

“The infamous black widow, who can kill a man in five seconds, is scared of a girl who looks like she couldn’t hurt a fly”

Natasha has a chuckle too and says

“Don’t be fooled. She’s nice. But she’s crazy. One time Tony pinched me a bit too hard and I reacted and she punched him in the face. She broke his nose”

Yelena laughs at this and says

“Wow. Remind me not to get on her bad side.”

Natasha and Yelena wrap it up as y/n comes back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n’s pov

I come back and sit down.

They go back to talking and I rest my head on Natasha’s shoulder and fall asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wake up with Natasha shaking my arm. I’m in a whole different place now. Apparently nat decided to just carry me to our sleeping place. And we get up and I follow them out to find mason standing next to a rinky dink helicopter.

We hop on and I just follow their orders. Apparently we’re breaking their father not really father out of jail.

Yelena stays in the helicopter as Natasha goes down. This is so cool.

A bunch of things happen in a flash and now we’re sitting in the helicopter talking about fallopian tubes.

Like we legit almost died from an avalanche and now they’re bickering.

I am staring at this guy. His name is Alexie. He’s big.

He stands up and says

“Who are you?”

I stand up and get up to him to show at least I’m not scared as Natasha gets a bit worried.

She’s scared someone is going to hurt someone. But I say

“I. Mr Alexie. Am your daughter’s wife”

He furrows his eyebrows and says

“Yelena? You are married?”

Yelena rolls her eyes and before she can say anything I butt in and say

“No dipshit. I’m married to Natasha. My name is Y/n Romanoff.”

I kind of shuck the whole bad girl persona and hold out my hand.

He brushes it aside and ignores it. But Natasha doesn’t stand for any kind of disrespect especially towards her wife so she says

“Ah. No. She held her hand out to shake. You shake her hand”

He rolls his eyes like a kid but finally shakes my hand back.

I wipe my hand off afterwards and we start heading to somewhere else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The helicopter runs out of gas and we start walking the rest of the way.

I trail behind while the rest of them bicker until we get to Melina’s.

She has pigs. It reminds me of my childhood. When I used to have pigs. My dad would love this.

I remember when my dad brought me to the barn and pointed at the pig that was mine. He handed me some marshmallows and helped me hold out my hand. The way that the pig ate them made me so happy.

Another thing about pigs is they’re very warm and cuddly so if they’re asleep they make great pillows. Like baymax from big hero 6.

(A/N: I used to show pigs in livestock shows and I would sleep on them and feed them marshmallows. So comfy and warm)

We end up awkwardly sitting at a dinner table while Melina sits back down with her iPad.

Apparently this fake family has some serious trauma that they need to work out.

She calls in a pig

“Good boy Alexie”

“You named a pig after me?”

“You don’t see the resemblance?”

I snort a bit at that quip. It was funny.

Then she says

“Alexie stop breathing”

She slides her finger across the iPad screen and the pigs breath hitches.

My eyes widen and I rest my hand on nats thigh.

She starts talking but I’m too busy watching alexie the pig hold his breath to listen.

My eyes tear up a bit and nat finally says

“What are you doing?”

The pig falls over as Melina continues to fucking yap and I squeeze nats thigh tighter.

Melina keeps talking until I accidentally let out a whimper of fear for this pig. So Nat cuts her off.

“I think you’ve proven your point”

She finally lets him breathe and sends him out and I look at her like she’s crazy.

They end up talking a lot more but I can’t seem to snap out of the fact that the reason that girl from earlier died was because of this stuff. They controlled her. She couldn’t do anything about it.

This pig had the same glint in its eye when commanded to do something. Just like the girl. I can’t stand it anymore so I excuse myself to the restroom and go in there to calm down.

I close the door and try to calm down my breathing.

Maybe I’m not cut out for this. God I should have listened to Natasha when she told me to go home. I just wanted to make sure she was safe.

I finally calm myself down at least a little bit and I step out of the bathroom but I freeze when I hear Yelena get choked up

“Don’t say that please don’t say that. You were my family-”

I can’t even hold myself together anymore so I go back into the bathroom like I never left.

I hear Yelena storm off into a different room and footsteps I can only assume are Alexies follow behind.

I have to calm myself all over again and I just sit in the bathroom for a little while.

Natasha’s pov

Yelena just stormed off with Alexie on her tail and im staring at Melina with such anger right now.

“You know you did this to us? You could have done the right thing and helped us when we were girls. But you didn’t.”

“It was my job”

“Your job was to give two little girls hope for a life? And then just take it all away? That’s not a job. A job is something you go to an office for. Where you type on a computer all day. Not ruin innocent lives. And what’s more. You scared my wife.”

Melina scoffs and says

“It was a pig holding its breath”

“You know it was so much more than that. You know that pig created a hell for Yelena and so many other girls. She was set free by chance. And it is my job now to set them free by choice. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to make sure my wife is okay”

I get up and walk to the bathroom door and knock on it.

“Y/n? Detka? It’s me, please let me in.”

No answer.

Melina walks up to me and says

“She might need some space.”

I nod my head and go to the living room and pick up an old picture book.

“She shouldn’t be here you know?

I look up from the pictures and say

“I know. I tried to get her to go home but she wouldn’t budge. She’s smart. She knows what she can handle and what she can’t. But I just hope she knows the gravity of what we’re dealing with.”

“I’m sure she does. She loves you. You know that? It takes a lot of effort to love someone that much.”

I smile and say

“And yet that kind of love flows so freely from her.”

I look back down at the photo album and flip a page. I reminisce about a fake Christmas we had. It was so fun.

Melina takes a small step back and looks down. Then the bathroom door opens and I step away from her to check up on y/n.

Y/n’s pov

After a while in the bathroom Nat knocks on the door. I hear her but I just don’t have it in me to answer. I feel like I’ll break down if I do.

I stay in the bathroom for a little longer and I finally get up and stand in front of the mirror.

I give myself a silent pep talk and splash my face with water. And then I dry it and open the door.

Nat is next to me in an instant asking

“Are you alright?”

I look down and just hug her tight. I squeeze my eyes shut and just hold onto her tightly.

I know Melina is watching us but I don’t care. She can stare all she wants I need this.

I thread my fingers through her hair and grip it tight. Then I tuck my face into her neck.

“I know. I know detka. I’m right here for you. I’m sorry”

I shake my head softly and then pull away.

“Don’t apologize”

We stay silent for a few seconds and I take this time to really admire her. Really take her beauty in.

Melina has gone by now.

I move some hair out of her face and say

“You’re beautiful you know that”

She smiles shyly and I say

“Talia?”

She looks at me knowing I only use that name when I’m deeply concerned or really want her attention.

“I love you. You know that right?”

Nat nods her head and I say

“Good. Because you need to know it. I love you from the bottom of my heart”

Nat smiles with a guilty face and says

“I still dont think you should go.”

I close my eyes softly in defeat and say

“If you really do not want me to go with you. Then I will respect your wishes. I can surely stay here in this house and care for the animals while you’re gone.”

Nat smiles at me and says

“I thought you’d say no.”

I send her a watery smile and say

“I could never say no to you. But if I stay you have to promise me…”

I get a bit choked up and she says

“Promise you what?”

I let a tear slip and say

“Promise me that you’ll be safe. And you’ll come home to me”

“I always do”

I shake my head and say

“I know you always do. But that reassurance is not enough this time please promise me”

She looks down and says

“I know how you feel about promises. Your father always broke promises so now you never ever make a promise you can’t keep. And I cannot imagine a world where I do not come home to you. But I cannot make a promise that I cannot guarantee I’ll be keeping.”

A few more tears slip out of my eyes and I shake my head at her and say

“Damn you Romanoff.”

She lets a tear fall too and says

“I can however promise you this. I promise, that I will be the safest I can be. I will never stop trying to come home to you. And I will use every ounce of energy I have in my body if it means I get to come home to you even one more time”

My lip quivers a bit and I nod my head but before I can say anything she continues

“I need you to know that I won’t let go. Not now. Not ever. Because it always has and always will be you at the end of the day. So if I have to expend every fiber of my being just to see you one more time so be it.”

I start full on crying now. She is saying part of her vows. She holds me close and says the rest in my ear.

“And lastly I vow that when death does decide to take my hand, I will hold you with my other.”

I nod my head and hold her again. It takes a while for me to compose myself again and I pull away from her.

I push her shoulder and say

“You made me cry god damnit!”

Then I laugh a little and she says

“It was not my intention. I just wanted you to remember how much I love you”

I smile and nod my head then I whisper

“I love you too”

Then I start giggling and Nat asks

“What’s the matter?”

I smile and say

“Mine doesn’t sound as good since you had to go and say that stuff”

She giggles with me too and says

“Yours sounds like music to my ears. It fills me just as much”

She kisses me and says

“I’m gonna go try and find Melina okay?”

I nod my head.

“I’m gonna go find Yelena and see if she’s okay”

Nat nods her head and walks off and I go in the direction I thought she went.

Natasha’s pov

I watch y/n leave and turn around and see Melina.

I go to her and see how she has a tear running down her face.

“Tell me, how did you keep your heart?”

I don’t know how to respond to that so I think and say

“Pain only makes us stronger. Didn’t you tell us that?”

I sigh and say

“What you taught me kept me alive”

She takes that in and then says

“I’m sorry I already alerted the Red Room. They’ll be here any minute”

I look at her with wide eyes and then turn my head down. My tears fall freely now. And I nod my head knowing I’m going there now.

Y/n’s pov

I get to the door where I hear Alexie and her talking when suddenly a bright blue light flashes and damn near blinds me.

It gets loud as if helicopters or planes are flying around the house and I open the door slightly and see Yelena. She shakes her head to signal that I shouldn’t go in there.

I nod my head and look down to see Alexie on the ground with about fifteen darts in his chest. That explains the thud.

She opens the door fully and walks in gun at the ready so she can make sure it’s clear.

Then she whispers

“Stay close. And stay hidden.”

I nod my head and follow her slightly. I follow behind her in the hallway as she checks to see if it is clear.

She looks down and I follow her eye sight and I see Nat unconscious on the floor. I almost gasp but someone might be here so I pull back and hide around the corner.

I cover my mouth so I don’t say anything as Yelena investigates further.

All I can do is listen so I try to use my hearing as best I can.

I hear her take a few steps and then stop and then someone else’s footsteps come from the other direction.

They speak and say

“I’m sorry”

It’s Melina. She shoots Yelena with a widows bite and Yelena falls back to where I can see her.

I am frozen in fear but I just pray that she doesn’t think I’m in this spot.

But I’m never that lucky am I?

Even before she steps to me she says

“And as for you…”

She turns the corner and says

“You really didn’t expect me to leave you here? I’m not that stupid.”

She holds up her arm to shoot me with another bite and I say

“Wait! You don’t have to do this Melina.”

She squints at me and I continue

“You can do what you should have done all those years ago. You can let us go. You can save us”

She tilts her head and says

“It is too late for that now.”

I close my eyes knowing there’s no way out of this and she shoots.

The pain that courses through me before I pass out is horrible.

If this is even a fraction of what that girl back in Budapest felt I can’t even imagine what she actually went through.

Then everything turns black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wake up in a weird hospital room. I try to get up but I’m tied to the table and I look around and see Yelena being drawn on by someone. She says

“This is a much less cool way to die”

I lay back and give up on my attempts to escape.

The “doctor” starts whirring a device I can only assume is to cut our fucking heads open or something.

Then suddenly. Yelena says

“What?”

I look at her and so do the doctors.

They approach her so I try to distract them

“What are you going to do to us?”

And they go back to their work. I let out a sigh of slight relief.

I look across the room to see Yelena being approached by these doctors again and she is reaching for something. I see her grab a knife.

God I hope this works

I just sit there and watch her go into action. She immediately cuts the closest doctor and starts fighting the rest.

She got stuck with a needle but she just pulls it out unfazed and goes and cuts me out of the straps and I thank her and follow her.

She grabs her vest and says

“You couldn’t have told me sooner?”

I look at Yelena and say

“What’s happening?”

“Melina is on comms with me. I’ve got you”

I nod my head and follow her as she continues to talk to the earpiece.

Then after she wipes the marker off her forehead and looks in a hallway she says

“Yeah sure. Easy”

I follow her eyesight up to the air vents and says

“Vents? Again?”

She smiles at my comment and we get in and I struggle and say

“What is it with you guys and air vents?”

We keep moving until we get to another place and Yelena opens the vent and drops down like Nat always does.

Then she shivers and says

“That was disgusting”

I giggle and drop down in the same way and say

“Hmm. I felt kind of cool”

Yelena smirks and says

“Great. My poser sister married a poser wife”

I smile and we continue on our way.

She goes to the wall and I nod towards the guy and say

“Let me”

She hesitantly nods her head knowing if anything goes wrong she can step in. But I handle it perfectly by using a move Natasha taught me.

He’s out and she drags him to scan his hand to let us past.

We step into a room that has security cameras and I see Dreykov slap Natasha.

That bastard. I’ll kill him.

But I tilt my head when Natasha has a cocky demeanor.

She’s playing a game.

He doesn’t know it. But I do. And when she plays games. She wins.

He slaps her again and she keeps talking but the cams don’t have volume so I dont know what they’re saying.

Yelena pulls me away from the screens to continue on our way.

We go and find the red vials that are an antidote to the chemical subjugation.

Not a good enough reason to use those big words if you ask me.

Yelena speaks to Melina and says

“Melina I’ve found the location of the vials”

And she relays the information to me

“Melina said that she’s had a slight setback and we will need to get to the widows.”

I nod my head and we move on.

We start running to wherever they are and then she says

“Fantastic I’m headed to the widows now”

I look at her and she said

“Melina just blew up one of the engines. We’re crashing. But it’s controlled.”

I nod my head

She opens the door to get to the widows and they’re all gone.

“No”

“Where are they?”

“Dreykov called the widows. He’s in trouble.”

I look at her and say

“That means that Nat got to him yes?”

She nods and says

“Which also means we need to get to them faster because if we don’t all of those widows are going to kill her”

Yelena grabs a bomb and wraps the vials around it.

I widen my eyes and we bolt.

We get there after a shit ton of turns and each of the widows are having their turn on my wife.

Yelena pulls the pin and throws the bomb in the air as Natasha never stops fighting.

I am frozen as I can only watch what is unfolding.

The widows come to and Natasha is on her knees knowing she is safe now.

I run to her as the girls are waking up from whatever chemicals had them controlled.

There is something in Nat’s shoulder and Yelena comes once and pulls us away.

Nat pats her shoulder and Yelena says

“That looks like it hurts. Okay I take it out on three ready?”

Nat nods her head and Yelena just rips it out with no warning and nat grunts really loud.

“I’m sorry”

I close my eyes a bit and just hold onto Nat’s hand.

This one girl speaks in a different language and I just look at them all. And nat responds.

“Get as far away from here as possible. You get to make your own choices now”

Then an explosion goes off and we are kind of lulled back into reality. Natasha speaks

“We gotta get out of here”

Yelena says

“Are you coming?”

“Yeah I’m right behind you”

I stay with Nat as she goes to Dreykov’s desk and does some tech stuff. I look at her and she says

“You need to go with them”

I shake my head as she logs in with his ring and I say

“Absolutely not. I can’t leave you again.”

She shakes her head and lets me stay.

I watch the screen as thousands of pictures of girls flow into a drive for Natasha to take.

Then I look over and she has to break her nose back into place and I say

“Shit. Are you okay?”

She nods and says

“I’ve been worse.”

Then the drive is finished and she pulls it out and grabs some leftover vials and says

“Let’s go! This thing is going down and it’s going down fast!”

We have to jump out of the window and I grab onto her as she grabs a wire. She points to Melina and Alexie getting into a jet.

“Go!”

I look at her and say

“I love you”

She stops for a second and says

“I love you too. So much”

I nod and then I run to the jet while Natasha finishes her business.

I get to the jet and it immediately falls and is going through an explosion.

Melina says

“We need to go back”

Then a soldier lands on the windshield and Alexie throws something at it.

I am being thrown around in here and Melina says

“We’ve lost control!”

I sigh and shake my head.

I’m going to die.

We crash and everything goes black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wake up and everything is hazy. I look around and see shrapnel falling from the sky but I don’t care. All I am looking for is Natasha. I look for any signs. And then suddenly I see something flailing around.

It’s not a something.

It’s Natasha.

And the taskmaster fighting in the fucking air.

I scream

“Nat!”

But it’s no use. It’s not like she can hear me anyways.

They land on the ground and somehow don’t fucking die.

Damn what kind of a movie am I fucking living in

I go to get up but my leg is killing me. I didn’t even notice until just now.

I look at my leg and see my ankle is broken.

I groan and all I can do is watch them fight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I watch as everything unfolds.

The Red Room crashed into the ground.

Natasha ran to Yelena.

The family all came together and all I can do is watch.

I watch Natasha and I wonder if she has even thought of me yet.

I can’t hear her but suddenly they all start looking around.

Natasha looks frantic as she starts yelling.

She’s yelling my name.

Thank god

I try to get up and I use a chunk of Red Room that’s next to me to stand up but when I go to take a step the pain is excruciating and I scream out

“Gahh!!”

This alerts Melina and she points to where I fall over.

Natasha runs to me and cradles me in her arms.

I look up at her and say

“I was beginning to think you forgot about me”

I laugh softly and Natasha smiles at my inability to be serious.

She leans down and says

“I’d never forget about you.”

I tear up and say

“You did it.”

She sniffles and shakes her head

“No. No we did it.”

I nod my head

“Nat?”

She looks at me and I look at her and we both know what I want.

So she leans in ever so softly and kisses me.

This kiss is different. It feels like the one we shared on our wedding day. The one we shared when we proposed. It’s a big moment kind of kiss.

But it also is different to all of those memories. It’s like a reunion. Like on a romance movie when the lovers get separated and come together again.

When I pull away I look into her eyes and say

“We need to go.”

She nods her head and says

“Come. Let me help you”

She picks me up and I roll my eyes.

“I could walk if I tried”

She rolls her eyes and laughs softly knowing this game and says

“I’m sure you could.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: oh my lord this took fucking forever. Im not gonna lie I actually thought I would decompose before I finished. It got to the point where I just pulled up the black widow movie and started writing shit down almost exactly how it played out 😭🤦‍♀️

Taglist

@ilovesnat @ihartnat @marvelnatasha12346 @moistblobfish @justarandomreaderxoxo @lovelyy-moonlight @symp4nat

[new-revenant]

Alright! Time to share all of what I have of the 4th chapter. It’s not much, but hey, it’s something. Here is the Ao3 link to the other 3 chapters. And unfortunately, the story is on indefinite hiatus because I just. Couldn’t do it ha, got overwhelmed and majorly burnt out. Anyhow, hope you enjoy what I do have. 872 words.

Edit: Opps! Forgot to tag you haha @bianca-hooks123

When Danny woke up, he was surprised at how refreshed he felt. He really hasn’t a good night’s sleep in a while, huh. His body didn’t ache, his left arm finally felt normal, and the bruises he had were gone. If not for still being trapped in his ghost form, he would’ve been having the time of his life!

As he sat up, Danny noticed that his tray of food was unfortunately gone. But, he now had a new tray of food, breakfast edition! It still had the same mix of human and Tamaranean on it, which was nice. His water bottle was refilled, accompanied by a cup of strawberry milk right next to it.

Danny quickly set out to eat all of the food, like eating the dry cereal and then drinking the entirety of the milk right after, as God intended. He didn’t eat as fast as he did last night-er, before he fell asleep. He honestly had no idea what time it was, and couldn’t see a clock nearby. A clock.

Clockwork.

Danny had to stop eating for a moment, trying to calm down the rage that was beginning to simmer. It’ll all be fine, everything back home would be fine, he just needs to pass whatever this test is and punch Clockwork in the face, then he’d be good to go. But what about this universe? Would he be able to go back here? Would he need to? Would he want to?

Danny shook his head, “No time to worry about that,” he muttered to himself, “Just eat your food, and read this note you just noticed was here.”

Danny picked up the note that he must’ve missed because he was too focused on the food. It was not written in English, or had any letters he was familiar with, and he was pretty sure spoken English here was the same as it was in his universe. It was most likely in one of the written languages of Tamaraneans, since everyone-expect Batman-thought he was a Tamaranean.

Danny flipped the note around, hoping for an English translation. The back of the note had more writing, but it was still in Tamaranean. Well that sucked. Now he has to find someone to read the note, and considering the note’s in Tamaranean, it was probably from either Starfire or Nightwing, maybe saying that they were off doing stuff. Even if Danny couldn’t read it, he did have a half-decent intuition!

With a sigh, Danny put the note back down and decided to finish his breakfast. It was so good, definitely better than anything his parents cooked for him. Who would definitely be okay if Nocturn was to be believed. Wait, was Nocturn telling the truth? Danny shook his head again, he had to believe Nocturn, for the sake of his own sanity.

Once Danny finished his food, he got out of the bed, and looked around the infirmary. He noticed three things; one, there was a clock in here and showed that it was 3 o’clock-whether it was AM or PM he didn’t know, two, someone else was in infirmary, and three, there was a box right in front of his bed.

First things first, the person in the bed was someone he hasn’t seen yet, with white, giant wings on their back. They looked they were in pain and was hooked up to something. They were already awake and was looking over at Danny.

“Ah, hello there kid,” they said with a small wave, “I’m Hawkgirl, glad you’re feeling better. Heard you weren’t in such a good state when you came in here.”

“Well, this is the infirmary,” Danny joked, “But I think I just used up too much energy.”

“Didn’t you also fall hundreds of feet from the sky?”

“Wow news spreads fast here huh? I healed pretty quickly from that though.”

“If you count being asleep for two days fast, then yes, you have.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been asleep for how many days?” Danny couldn’t believe it, two days? That means he’s already been gone for…two minutes back home so he probably didn’t need to worry about that.

“You’ve been asleep for two days,” Hawkgirl’s voice held a pinch of sadness as she spoke, “I wish I could convert Earth days to Tamaranean days, but I don’t know the conversion rate. Starfire might, but she’s on-world right now.”

“It’s okay. Also do you um, know how to read this?” Danny showed her his note, “I can’t read.”

Hawkgirl inhaled sharply, with Danny already knowing what she was going to say and he groaned.

“Yeah yeah you don’t know either, it’s fine,” Danny pinched the bridge of his nose, “Uh, newtopicnewtopic…how are you doing? Got injured in a fight?”

“Unfortunately, yes, I have,” Hawkgirl sighed, “This strange, ghost-like creature managed to mess up some of my internal-“

“Wait a minute, er-sorry for interrupting you but did you say ghost? Like the see-through dead guys?”

“I’m unsure, Batman is looking into it. Oh, and he left that box of clothes for you not too long ago.”

“Ah, that’s what the box was for. Well, I’m going to wander around this spaceship-thing until I find a place to change.”

[abbu0414]

Time Apart (Simon Riley x Reader)

Word Count: 788

♪ Song to Listen To: Slow Dancing in A Burning Room by John Mayer

It had been weeks. No. Months since you had last seen him. Maybe that was just an exaggeration, but he was the first boyfriend you had that had a job like this. You had been together for about 5 or 6 months and you and Simon had been inseparable since and at the last possible second, he was summoned for a mission for work. This mission was just for 4 or 5 weeks, which in retrospect wasn’t that long, but this was the first time being apart from each other. The very first thing that he told you was that this mission was no contact. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t risk your safety like that.

Week 2 and 3 weren’t that bad and you just made a routine to keep yourself busy. It didn’t help that you were also an anxious overthinker. Every night you would lay awake thinking about Simon and his chances of coming back to you. 

“No, he’s coming back.” Is what you would tell yourself every night before you fell asleep in his too big workout shirt. His scent alone would be enough to lull you asleep in your shared bed and strong enough for you to ignore the missing body that was supposed to be next to you.

By week 4 and 5, you slowly started to eat less and sleep more. You don’t know why you reacted this way to him being gone, it’s not like you weren’t used to it. Your dad had been in the military for 20 years and it wasn’t uncommon for him to be gone for months at a time. So why is this different?

You had finally convinced yourself to swing your legs out of bed and drag yourself into the kitchen. Luckily, you had showered after work so all you had to do was put on pajama shorts and Simon's big t-shirt. Boiling some pasta water and putting on your headphones on full blast made you feel better and you knew it would melt away the sadness. While you were lost in your own thoughts and swaying to the music, you failed to hear the door unlocking, and the soft but heavy thud of duffle bags. A long sigh escaped his lips. 

“Oh shit the pasta”, you muttered to yourself. Simon’s steps drew closer to you, taking in your body like a parched man looking at water in the desert. Heavy footsteps drawing into a close. You feel your hair being pushed to the side and your neck being peppered with kisses.

“Holy shit!” You turn around quickly, with your headphones falling off your head just to be met with his adoring brown eyes.

“Miss me love?” He whispers with a smile.

“Oh my god” tears run down your face and you jump into his arms. He didn’t hesitate to support your body with his hands around your torso while your legs locked around his waist. “I’ve missed you so much Simon.” You buried your face in his neck and took in his overwhelming cologne, the smell of pine on his tactical vest and the cold sensation of his dog tags hitting your chest. He sets you on the counter gently, trapping you in between his arms. You put your hands to his face and lift his intimidating balaclava to look at his bare face. You mark all the new scars and take notice of the one on his lips. You kiss all the scars and then his lips. He takes a moment to look at you.

“Is that my shirt?” He asks, looking down at the material hanging off your body and you shrug your shoulders. “It looks good on you, keep it.” It’s his turn to return the affection and he starts at your collar bones and works his way up your neck and eventually lands on your lips. This time he hooks his hand around the back of your neck for support and kisses you deeply. Nothing beats the feeling of an ‘I missed you’ kiss. You enjoy this feeling as you wrap your arms around his neck. You hop off the counter and take his hand in yours as you go to his bags to help him put his stuff away. 

“Let’s get you settled back in so we can eat and you can tell me about your trip, the unclassified stuff anyways” You smile at him.

“Anything for you.”

After dinner and his much needed shower you laid in bed with his arms around you and your legs entangled with each other. It was the best sleep you both had in weeks.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

DJ!!! If it's okay, for the first kiss prompt could I humbly ask for

"are you sure about this" with our voice king, Sev?

Or!!

their hearts stopping when they hear someone's camera click (a friend catching them in the act ?) with Tup?

Whichever one inspires you more! Please and thank you 💙

A/N: Thank you so much for the ask @secondaryrealm! It was so fun to get back into the swing of writing Sev. You’ll notice that I’m incapable of writing him without mentioning his voice. Voice kink gonna voice kink. Prompt is in purple!

Pairing: Sev x Reader (GN)

Rating: T, but minors DNI as always

Wordcount: 519

Warnings and tags: fluff, mentions of vomit

Summary: You do Sev a solid.

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

“Are you sure about this?” Sev’s deep voice rumbled in your ear, sending a tingle of awareness across your neck.

You turned to look at him over your shoulder. “Kriff, no.”

He smirked and slid his helmet into place. “Too bad.”

Without warning, he spun you around and tackled you, sending you both flying out of the LAAT/i and into the abyss as his arms clamped around your body.

You shrieked, too terrified to be embarrassed by the sound. “Oh, my gods, I’m gonna die!”

You clung to Sev, burying your face against his chestplate as you squeezed your eyes shut, clenching your jaw to try to keep from screaming again.

Sev’s low, modulated chuckle sounded through his helmet speaker. “Relax, I’ve done this hundreds of times.”

“Carrying another person?!” you demanded raggedly, still not opening your eyes.

“Uh… no,” he admitted. “That’s why we needed volunteers for the training exercise.”

Your eyes snapped open, not that it mattered, since all you could see was Sev’s armor and helmet.

“Sev,” you asked nervously, “how many times have you done this while carrying somebody?”

“This is the first. I think it’s going well.”

“I can’t believe I let Scorch talk me into this,” you groaned.

“Everyone who’s ever met Scorch has said that at some point.”

You felt your weight shift as he adjusted the flight path of his jetpack, and your stomach flip-flopped. Gods, I think I’m gonna hurl. Please, please don’t let me hurl on him, you prayed silently to the Force.

“Don’t drop me,” you begged.

“Even if I did, the tether would keep you close.” Sev seemed to sense you didn’t find that as reassuring as he thought you would, and he tightened his fingers on you briefly. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

True to his word, he soon landed the pair of you safely on the ground. As he released you, your knees buckled, and he caught you just before you collapsed. He yanked off his helmet with his free hand, and you heard it thud to the ground as he tilted your head so he could see your face.

“You okay?” he asked, scanning you quickly for injuries.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said shakily. “I just need a minute.”

You willed your legs to work as you tried not to stare at his deep, gorgeous eyes or his stupid, perfect mouth that you’d been trying to ignore for months. Why does he smell so kriffing good? He has no right to smell like that. 

You cleared your throat. “I, uh, think I can stand now.”

Sev didn’t loosen the arm he had wrapped around your waist, and he stroked your cheek softly with his thumb as he held your head. You gazed into each other’s eyes, as though suspended in time, and then he closed the distance between you as his lips met yours. His lips felt exactly as soft and stupidly perfect as you’d imagined, and you sucked in a tiny, broken gasp when the kiss ended far too soon.

“Wow,” you sighed. “I’m so glad I didn’t hurl on you.”

---

Looking for spicy Sev x reader fics? Allow me to plug my incredibly spicy fic, “Turn It Up When You’re Gone” Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3. The fourth and final chapter will be dropping next month!

[zevrra]

finally home—

synopsis: sebastian is back from his latest assignment and he wants you all to himself.

tags: 18(+) only, sorta nsfw, mentions of nsfw, sebastian sallow (18+) x fem!reader(18+), one-shot, short & sweet

“Sebastian we can’t,” You whisper between hurried breaths. His fingers press into the small of your back, forcing the front of your body to meet his. “We have actual jobs we cannot neglect.” You add as Sebastian’s lips meet your jaw. His hands work on untucking your shirt from your skirt. Pulling the fabric free enough to slip rather cold fingers against your warm skin.

He breathes your scent in like he’s an addict. Touching your body as if you might disappear if he stops. Needy was an understatement. He desired you. You were his and his alone. And he would make that apparent as his hands snake around to the front of your blouse, the buttons being unclasped by his hands.

Your words must fall on deaf ears as Sebastian’s fingers begin to unbutton your shirt rather quickly. You were a professor and he was an Auror, the two of you didn’t have time to be making out in some little corner off to the side. Let alone anything more than kissing.

“We’re no longer teens in the undercroft,” You hum. Forget him not listening to you, your own words were wishy-washy at best; seeing as you did nothing to stop him from advancing. Even as he unbuttons the last button of your shirt, exposing your bra to the open air. “Sebastian are you—are you listening?”

“I’ve missed you so much,” Sebastian responds finally. Lips skimming along your jaw as he mumbles. “I’ve been gone too long.” He quickly adds. Knowing exactly how to play his cards against your own.

It had been some time since the last of you two saw each other, that much was obvious. This had been the longest he had been away from your shared home since becoming an Auror. Went away to work on some long, tedious case to stop some dark wizard or another. But you still had some priorities. Like teaching your next class.

And yet, you missed him too. Missed him so much words could not describe your longing for him. But you couldn’t bring yourself to admit that out loud. Not right now anyway. Not while his hands roamed your body and his lips began to leave his mark when you both should be doing this somewhere else. It was your office, with the doors locked tighter than Gringotts itself but it was still a little…taboo so to speak.

“Sebastian,” You groan softly. His hands move from your hips to your ass where he easily lifts you from the floor. With a little too much ease, he fills the space between your legs, neatly wrapping them around his waist, and holding you up to hang slightly above him.

You barely manage to steady yourself by gripping onto his shoulders but he takes the opportunity in your surprise to finally kiss you. Kissing him was like a breath of fresh air as you mesh perfectly together. Lips so passionately locked, it’s as if every star aligned just right for the two of you. Even puzzle pieces didn’t fit as well as the two of you did.

When Sebastian pulls away his chin falls to rest on your sternum between your breasts. You can’t help but desperately search for his lips once more. You loved kissing and he knew it. A little embarrassed as he catches your eyes while he still holds you up in his arms. “Please. Just a little more my love,” Sebastian begs as his brown eyes look up at you. Dammit. He also knew you were weak to him begging. And god did he look so good right now.

Blushing, you manage to look away from him briefly. Pressing the back of your hand to your lips in some hope to hide your glowing red face. He definitely had you wrapped around his finger. “Fine…let’s hurry. I have a class to teach soon.”

[mrthology]

okay but what is it about perpollo? I swear the ship just crept up on me randomly and now it's my fav pjo ship but idk how it happened because they have little actual interactions in canon?? hermes had more scenes with percy. is it the poetic "sun and sea" thing, what??? (im sorry for bombarding you but i see your fics a lot in the perpollo tag so idk who else to ask but i just wanna hear people's input about this ship)

A lot of ships in fandom as a whole barely interact—there are some mammoth ships where two side characters that barely interact and barely have scenes have thousands of fics focused on them, and large fandoms dedicated to their relationship and fanon!

Gods and humans (or other immortal, powerful beings and humans) have been popular and fascinating in stories forever, and with Perpollo specifically there’s the advantage of Apollo having an entire book series himself, and being more “known” in fandom. Even if people haven’t read TOA, if they read fic, they’re likely to encounter elements from the books, and Apollo is a more fleshed out character in the PJO universe as a whole.

For me, I studied classics and enjoy exploring how a book series and characters I loved growing up (Percy) may interact with a blend of the book canon, my own ideas, and mythology. Apollo works well for that, though I’ve explored themes with other characters as well. One of my favourite fics I’ve written is actually exploring themes with Percy and Dionysus lol. Some characters fit certain themes I want I explore well!

There's also community and support. I (and @ashilrak) had a couple PJO servers, and having people to bounce ideas off of, gush over characters with, and basically have fun with definitely inspires writing! And while those servers are gone, there are inevitable countless more that likewise foster supportive environments.

In short, Perpollo’s been a ship since the first series, as have a million other random ships! Perpollo also had the advantage of community, Apollo later being more fleshed out in the PJO canon, the tried and true “immortal/human” ship people often find fascinating going for it, Apollo being portrayed as a teen, etc.

[triplexdoublex]

Chlorine and Nicotine

Pairing: Jaden Hossler x Reader

Warnings/tags: Smut , Age Gap (reader is in her 30’s) tipsy hookup (consent implied) mentions of prior divorce, pregnancy, c section and children. Body image issues /self conscious reader . Mention of coopers death/fentanyl poisoning.

A/N: 5.5k words! This one’s for the self conscious and tired mamas on this app. Go find yourself a Jaden lol

You and your two other friends, Ashley and Liz, had planned the perfect getaway to celebrate your messy divorce being finalized: A child-free, 7 day, all-inclusive, 21+ cruise to the Bahamas. Tickets were purchased, excursions were selected, trustworthy babysitters were hired and bags were packed, there’s only one thing you all forgot…

“Is it just me or are we like the oldest ones here?” You ask your friends, looking around as you all board the cruise ship.

“Yeah, I noticed that too— seems like mostly college kids for some reason?” Liz responds.

Just then you all notice the banner on the side of the ship ‘Spring Break 2023’!

The three of you, having been out of school for close to two decades already, had completely forgotten this week was usually spring break.

“Ugh,” Ashley groans, “I can’t believe we forgot. I was hoping we could all get some much needed rest and a full night's sleep this week without our kids, not be kept up by a bunch of frat boys and sorority girls partying.”

“Hey, you know what? As long as I’m with you guys I’m sure we’ll still have a great time, even if they do keep us up. Besides you know the saying ‘if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. When was the last time any of us got to let loose and party a little?” You reply.

“True,”

“Yeah, you’re right,” your friends answer in unison.

“Ok,well now that that’s settled, first order of business is finding our cabin, changing into our bikinis, and working on our tans while we sip margaritas pool side.” You instruct. “Let’s go!”

**********

“Whooof!” You exhale. “I’m getting hot. I’m gonna go take a dip in the pool and cool off real quick. I’ll be right back.” You head into the pool.

“Ash, do you hear that? I think those guys next to us on the right are talking about Y/N. Listen,” Liz says, keeping her voice low..

“— yeah the one in the yellow floral two piece… right there … she just got into the pool… she’s a total MILF bro—“

“Okay, I’m back, mmmn that cold water was refreshing. Did I miss anything?” You joke, knowing you were only gone for a minute.

“You did actually,” Ashley speaks in a whisper “Apparently you’re a Milf!” Liz adds.

“Says who!?” You laugh.

“Shhhh! Liz warns. “That little cutie right over there,” She nods in his direction. “The one in the black swim trunks.”

Descretly, you turn to see who your friends are talking about.

“Oh my god, I’m pretty sure I have jeans in my closet older than him! You scoff before taking another look. “I mean… he is pretty cute though— solid body, lots of tattoos.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you actually do,” Ashley laughs. Which reminds me we need to go shopping and update that wardrobe of yours, I haven’t seen you in anything but leggings for the past 6 years.”

“Ugh I know! It’s because nothing fits! It’s been 6 years since I had the twins and I’m still not back to my pre-baby weight,” you sulk. “Plus I’ve been so busy taking care of them and putting them first, I haven’t even had time to think about me. And now with the divorce and paying my lawyer— money’s tight. If it wasn’t for you guys paying my share of this trip, I wouldn’t have been able to go, and lord knows I need the break. I can’t thank you guys enough.”

“Aww you’re so welcome,” Liz hugs you.

“You deserve it,” Ashley says, patting your shoulder.

“Sorry, I’m being a negative Nancy. Fuck all our problems! We’re here to escape them and have fun!” You state. “Anyone else getting hungry, I could totally go for a burger?”

**********

At night, the pool area transforms into somewhat of a night club, with drinks, dancing, swimming and fun events— tonight’s is a singles lap dance competition.

“Good Evening,cruisers!!! The lap dance competition is about to begin,” the event organizer announces. “I need three single people to volunteer to receive a lap dance, raise your hand if your single and would like to receive a lap,” he shouts loud and enthusiastically as if announcing a wrestling match.

“Oh my god y/n! You should totally do it!” Ashley squeals, trying to raise your hand for you.

“No way, are you crazy?” You laugh pulling your hand back down.

“C’mon y/n, you’re single now , and when was the last time you had a hott guy on top of you?”

“Not within the last eight years, I know that much!” Liz sasses, wide-eyed taking a sip of her drink, and making you spit out yours.

“Fair enough,” you cough out after practically choking. “Fine I’ll do it,” you agree,the liquid courage you’ve been sipping on, helping to release your inhibitions.

“Alright, I just need one more volunteer!”

You adjust your bathing suit and raise your hand.

“ Ok pretty lady, c’mon up,” the DJ calls out. You head up onto the stage, your friends laughing, screaming and cheering you on. “Now I’m gonna need some volunteers to give the lap dances. Let’s start with this pretty lady right here,” the DJ motions to you. “Who wants to give this beautiful woman a lap dance?”

You look out into the crowd watching as a few hands go up. One in particular catches you eye, and you try to place why he looks slightly familiar, and then it hits you; it’s the young guy your friends overheard calling you a MILF earlier in the day.

“Alright, take your pick,” the DJ tells you.

“Him—the one with the dark hair and tattoos,” you point into the audience, before taking a seat on the folding chair on stage.

“You heard her, my man, c’mon up,” the DJ calls him to the stage.

He stands in front of you wearing his black swim trunks from earlier but is now also sporting a white tank top and a forward facing baseball cap. You can feel his eyes looking down at you, checking you out while waiting for the other contestants to choose their lap dance partner.

“Let’s get it started!” the DJ announces. “At the end of the song, y’all are gonna help me decide the winner,” he says, speaking to the audience. “Let’s gooo!!”

Sam Smith’s ‘Unholy’ starts bumping from the speakers and your tattooed partner throws his head back in a brief laugh at the song choice, before locking eyes with you. He wastes no time getting close; stepping forward so that both of your legs are sandwiched between his wide stance. With one hand on your shoulder he begins rolling his body in your lap, his free hand quickly grabbing his hat and turning it backwards so the brim doesn’t hinder his view of you. He glides that same hand down his torso over his white tank to its hem, bunches the material in his hand and slides it up, exposing his perfectly toned abs. You smirk, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth at the sight. He removes his hand from your shoulder and uses both hands to peel his tank off completely, tossing it down on the stage. Then he slides his thumbs into the waistband of his swim trunks purposely lowering them, his prominent V-lines on full display, along with a fuzzy line of hair descending from his navel. Your eyes follow the trail down until it meets a small patch just barely visible peeking out the top of his swim trunks. Your mind wanders, imaging what’s below—imaging what he’s working with. The trance you’re in is broken when he places one of your hands flat on his chest, inviting you to touch him while he moves in your lap. You let your hand glide down over the topography of his body, your fingertips exploring the hills and valleys of muscle as you go, stopping when your hand reaches the horizon where flesh meets material, even though your hand craves to continue its descent. As if he can read your mind, he pushes your hand lower, pressing his half hard bulge against your palm as he rolls his hips insync with the last ‘unholy’ of the song before it ends.

“Alright it’s time to vote. Let me hear you give it up for couple number one,” the DJ instructs. The audience claps, cheers and hoots. “Alright, a alright, now make some noise for couple number two.” A slightly louder roar of cheer and applause echoes under the night sky. Your sexy partner stands behind you with his hands on your shoulders as you both await your turn.“And last but not least couple number three.” The crowd goes wild with thunderous clapping,and high pitched whistles —your friends cheers the loudest of them all. “We have a clear winner here tonight, folks,” the DJ announces. “Winning by a landslide…couple number three!”

Tattooed arms unexpectedly scoop you up off the chair, running bridal style off the stage and towards the pool with you. You playfully shriek and laugh the whole way until … splash... he jumps in the water with you. When you both surface again, your hungry mouths are attacking one another like prey: desperate and determined. He moves forward in the water, pinning you against the side of the pool with his body as you devour each other— all lips, tongue, teeth and flesh. His skin tastes like chlorine, his kisses- a hint of nicotine; and just as addictive. Underwater, he teases a hand up your inner thigh and begins gently rubbing you through the fabric of your bathing suit. You allow it, encourage it actually—rocking your hips to press yourself firmer against his fingertips. You can feel how hard he is through his swim trunks and you opt to help him out, grasping his hard cock through the thin veil of fabric. You work each other into a sexual frenzy and it’s not long before his fingers transcend the boundary of your bathing suit bottoms, pushing the fabric aside and inserting two slender fingers inside of you. You follow his lead, sinking your hand into his swim trunks and wrapping your fingers tightly around him.

Maybe it’s the fact that he’s a complete stranger who’s name you don’t even know, or that he’s much younger than you, or perhaps even because no one besides your ex-husband has touched you this intimately in years, but you feel a familiar sense of heightened arousal that can only compare to the giddy exhilaration of your first sexual experience. God the nostalgia!—Back when just the novelty of making out, and touching each other was enough. Back when foreplay still existed, before the busyness of life and motherhood had you trading sex for sleep. Or swapping making love for quickies during naptime.

Every swirl of his tongue, curl of his fingers, and flick of your wrist has you feeling renewed, awake and alive again. You never want this to end but your body is chasing after the high it so desperately wants bucking against his palm while his fingers caress that sweet spot inside of you. As your orgasm begins to build, your grip on him falters so he places his free hand over yours, helping you stroke him. The feeling of your walls squeezing his fingers as you cum is so sexy to him that he finishes shortly after you.

Since the moment he jumped into the pool with you in his arms, you’ve been in your own world, oblivious to anything or anyone around you. It’s not until you start coming down from your high that the outside world starts to trickle back in: the music, the people, the sounds of your friends cheering your name. You turn to the direction of the noise in search of your friends, but a series of cannonballs by a group of guys momentarily blocks your view before you finally spot them. When you turn back after locating them, the boy is gone.

***********

The next morning in line for the breakfast buffet you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder.

“Hey, sorry about last night. My name’s Jaden by the way,” he holds out his hand.

“I’m y/n,” you shake his hand. “What exactly are you sorry about? I may have been a little tipsy, but I remember having a great time.” You give a small smirk.

“Ok, good,” he smiles “I was worried I got a little too caught up in the moment and took things too far,” he admits. “But mostly I’m sorry I disappeared on you like that. My buddies almost drowned me with their cannonballs and I wanted to spare you from having to see me choke to death and squirt water out of my nose.” He laughs.

“Fair. You’re forgiven,” you joke. “Can I ask you something?

“Of course, ask away.”

“How old are you?” You brace yourself for the answer, but at least you know he’s at least twenty one.

“Twenty two, you?”

“Oh god, umm let’s just call it mid 30’s” you answer, slightly embarrassed, and worried about how he might react.

“Can I ask you a question now?” He asks.

“Sure.”

“I’d like to spend some more time with you today. Would you like that?” He asks.

“Wait, so your not bothered by me being much older than you?” You question.

“Not at all,” he smirks. “Sooo is that a yes then?”

“I-I dunno..” you're sure he just wants to hook up again , and you don’t want to give him that impression. Last night was just a heat of the moment thing.

“I just wanna talk, get to know you. Hands to myself this time, promise,” he replies as if he’s read your mind.

“Okay,” you agree. “My friends and I have a dolphin excursion during the day and dinner reservations at 6:00, so why don’t we meet somewhere around 8:00?”

“That works for me. Meet at the hot tubs?”

“Sounds good, I’ll see you then.” You answer.

**********

You head down to the deck with the hot tubs after dinner; bathing suit on and towel in hand. You know you’re going to be a few minutes early but you figure you’d get there before they get crowed. When you arrive however you see Jaden already in one of the hot tubs; his elbows resting on the edge, and a cigarette between two fingers. You know it’s a nasty habit and not good for his health but fuck - why does he look so good doing it.

“Hey,” you say, grabbing his attention.

“Shit!” He blows out a mouthful of smoke and ashes the cigarette out on the edge of the hot tub. “Sorry, bad habit, tryna quit. I wasn’t expecting you for like another ten minutes, thought I could sneak one in.”

“No worries,” you smile, stepping into the hot tub with him. “I expected there to be more people out here, thought I’d come early before they filled up.”

“Yeah, same,” he says as you scoot over next to him . “But apparently there’s supposed to be a rainstorm some time tonight, so maybe that’s why. Although I don’t really see why it would matter, like you’re in a bathing suit literally sitting in water anyways.” He shrugs. “So anyways, tell me about yourself. I’m guessing you’re not here on Spring Break too.” He laughs.

“Nope, celebrating my divorce actually,” you admit, holding up your left hand and wiggling your ring finger— a lighter band of flesh, where a ring once sat.

“Ooh brutal, sorry to hear that. Did you guys have kids together?” Jaden asks.

“Dont be. I’m glad it’s over. And yeah twin boys actually. They’re six. My moms watching them while we’re gone.”

“Aww, sweet” he smiles.

“How ‘bout you? I already know you’re here on Spring Break. Sooo ummm—ooh I know, tell me about your tattoos, do they have any special meaning or anything?

“Some I just liked, and some have meaning but this one’s the most important to me,” he points to a scrawling of repeated sentences that goes from his chest down his side. I got it for my best friend Cooper who passed away from fentanyl poisoning last year. I just didn’t know what say, didn’t know what to do after he passed , ya know, it’s like — “ he pauses a moment and swallows hard . “Fuck, I’m sorry. Let’s just talk about something else,”

“Sure, no problem. I understand” you say supportively, placing a hand on his shoulder.

The rest of your conversation is much more happy and upbeat —sharing your favorite movies, music, and books, where you both live and what you do for work. Also telling silly anecdotes about your childhoods, college life, motherhood and so on.

And then the rain starts; which you both agreed was no big deal but, unfortunately this rain is accompanied by thunder and lighting.

“Ugh, I was having a great time talking with you. Sorry the rain cut our little date short.” You say, sounding disappointed as you both quickly exit the hot tub.

“Is that what this was?” He smiles.

“Maybe,” you answer coyly with a shrug and flirty smile.

“If you’re okay with it, you can come back to my cabin and talk a little more, hangout, watch a movie or something,” he suggests. “But I totally understand if you're not comfortable with that. No pressure.”

“Sure, I’d like that,” you agree.

***********

“Shit, I just realized I don’t have anything dry to change into” you state upon entering his cabin. “And my rooms like on the complete other side of the ship. Do you have anything I could just throw on for now?”

“Uhhhm, sure,” Jaden looks around the room for something to give you. “Here you can wear this bathrobe,” he says, tossing you the white, terry cloth covering before sitting down on the bed.

In the corner of the room you turn, facing away from Jaden, put on the robe, and then descretly remove your bathing suit from under it.”

“What, no show?” Jaden jokes.

“You don’t wanna see, trust me.” You say, sounding down.

“Oh, but I do,” he laughs, but then stops when he notices you aren’t laughing too. Hey, what’s a matter. I’m just joking.I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable that wasn’t my intention. I don’t want you to think that’s why I invited you back to the room. You don’t have to show me anything you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that. I’m just really not comfortable in my own skin these days—haven’t been for a while actually. I love my kids to death but let’s just say pregnancy didn’t do my body any favors. You're young, you can have any hott girl with a tight little body. Why would you wanna see mine, it’s nothing to look at, I promise you.”

“I promise you you’re wrong. Let me show you how beautiful you are.”

You’re not sure what that consists of exactly, but you nod in agreement anyways. Jaden makes you feel so safe, and you could definitely use a confidence boost.

“C’mere,” Jaden leads you by your hand into the bathroom, and positions you in front of the mirror. “Can I take this off?” He whispers in your ear from behind you, as he places a hand on each of your robe covered shoulders. You meekly nod yes and he slips the garment off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet, leaving you completely nude. You fight the urge to cover yourself but the look of awe in Jaden’s eyes as he surveys your naked body helps melt away some of your insecurity. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he breaths against your our neck. “Now what I want you to do is look in the mirror with me,” he instructs. You flick your eyes up to the mirror meeting his in the reflection. “I want you to tell me what you see when you look at yourself in the mirror—give it all to me, the good, the bad, the ugly, then I’m gonna tell you what I see.”

“I see someone I don’t recognize anymore. I used to be pretty, but now I have crows feet by my eyes, and my breasts have lost the perky fullness they had before breastfeeding two kids. It’s been six years and I still haven’t lost all the baby weight,” You poke at your stomach. “And I have this C-section scar from when my body failed to do the one thing it was literally designed to do!“ You start getting emotional. “My hips are so wide now, and my ass is huge , and don’t even get me started on the stretch marks on my inner thighs,” you sigh, holding back tears.

“First of all, you ARE pretty, I think you’re absolutely gorgeous. When I look at your eyes I don’t see crows feet— I see a million smiles and childhood summers spent having fun in the sun,” he says, making you smile. “That’s a million and one now,” he teases playfully. “Now, before I continue, do I have permission to touch you?”

“Permission granted,” you snicker “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t dying to feel your hands on me again,” you admit, blushing.

“And my lips too?” He begins kissing slowly up the side of you neck, making every hair on your body stand on end with arousal.

“Mmmhm, yeah, that too.” You giggle coyly.

“And these,..”he continues, cupping you from behind, “I see breasts that nourished two beautiful babies,and still look plenty perky to me, especially these nipples,” he rolls the buds between his thumbs and pointer fingers. “I love how erect they are for me.” He tugs on them gently before moving his hands to your stomach. “You don’t need to lose a single pound, all I see is curves and there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s not the 90’s anymore where women had to be rail thin to meet some ridiculous standard of beauty— all bodies are beautiful. And besides you don’t give yourself enough credit for growing two human beings inside you, this was their home for nine months!” He grips your soft belly tightly as he speaks. “And this scar,” he traces his finger over it, causing a ticklish chill to run through you at the ghostly sensation— you still don’t have much feeling there. “This is not a failure, it’s a reminder of how your babies were able to safely enter this world when things didn't go quite as planned.” Your eyes begin to well with tears again, not with sadness, but from the joy of a guy you met less than twenty four hours ago helping you fall back in love with your body and realize all its accomplishments. “And your ass and hips— fuck, that might be my favorite part of your body. Do you know how many women literally pay thousands of dollars to make their hips and ass look like this?” He rubs his hands over the swell of your backside. “It’s literally perfect.” He says with a firm squeeze. “And these—” he places his fingertips on the jagged pink and white lines on your inner thigh and begins to trace them upwards. “These are a map, leading me to where I wanna be the most,” he slides his middle finger through your wetness, “God damn you’re soaked and we’re not even in the pool this time,” he teases. “I think you want me here too, huh?” He begins rubbing slow circles on your clit, “and I mean more than just my fingers this time,” he smirks at you in the mirror before pressing his growing erection against your backside, and his mouth to your neck.

“Mhm, fuck—“ you moan, tilting your head and reaching back to run your hand through his dark hair while he marks you. “Mmmm, Jaden… do you… do you have a condom? I mean, my tubes are tied but—”

“I just got tested before the cruise baby—I’m clean.” He states breathily, before reattaching his lips to your neck, and pulling himself free from his swim trunks with his free hand.

“Okaay,” you moan. “I-I trust you.”

He slips in with ease; both of you releasing a shaky breath at the feeling. And while you haven’t exactly seen his dick yet, you can tell that it’s big.

“Fuccck, you feel incredible!” He nips along your jawline as he begins to thrust — one tattooed hand on your hip and the other, full of your breast, holding you against him so you can watch. He begins with a slow, gentle rhythm, taking his time to fully appreciate your warmth and tightness with each lengthy stroke.

“Ohhhh, Jaden!” You moan breathily.

“Mmmh yeah—am I making you feel good, baby?”

“Ss-so good.” And you mean that in every way- not just sexually.

“Keep your eyes on the mirror. I want you to see how beautiful you look while I fuck you,” he rasps in your ear.

You watch Jadens thrusts grow more urgent, his hands more hungry as he claws and grabs at every square inch of flesh he can get his hands on. Because of him you’re able to watch unashamed, as your soft body jiggles everytime Jaden’s hips crash against your backside, the movement spurring him on even more. You’re able to see the undeniable desire in his eyes, hear the truth of his words.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy!” He grunts through clenched teeth, increasing the intensity and depth of his pace even more, as he grows close to orgasm.

You grip the bathroom counter in front of you and let your head hang down in overwhelming pleasure. With a firm but gentle hold of your throat, Jaden lifts your head back up to face your reflection.

“Don’t want you to miss the best part,” he teases.

And with one final thrust, he cums hard, filling you to the brim. The warm eruption triggers your own orgasm, splashing against Jaden’s pelvis and dripping down his tattooed thighs.

“Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard before,” you admit after finally catching your breath, your legs still weak and trembling.

“I can believe that,” he laughs looking down at the mess you’ve made of him. “It was so fucking hott though…Shower then room service?”

“Sounds perfect” you smile, stepping into the shower with him.

The shower starts off innocent, with the intent of actually washing up and getting clean but when Jaden asks if he can help wash you, things heat up rather quickly. As he soaps up your breasts you feel something brush press against you and look down.

“Are you really hard again, already? You just came!”

“I’m young, I got the drive and the stamina to go all night if you want,” he smirks.

“I just might have to take you up on that,” you smirk back, reaching to grasp his cock. You give it a few teasing tugs before dropping to your knees.

He watches with his bottom lip between his teeth as you tease your tongue along the underside of his shaft , tracing the vein from hilt to tip. He lets out a low and breathy “Fuck” as the head disappears inside your mouth— the rest of his length soon to follow. He tastes of you, and the scent of chlorine still lingers on his skin, especially when you take him deep, your nose pressed into the neatly trimmed patch of hair on his pelvis. The same patch that was just slightly visible last night above the waistband of his low hung swim trunks. You remember the way your eyes followed his happy trail to it, your mind wondering what was below it. Now just barely twenty four hours later it’s been inside of you; first your pussy and now your mouth. Every bob of your head brings him closer, his pleasure building so much he can’t help but buck his hips, gently fucking into your mouth.

“Ohh, shit —Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” He moans out, grabbing the back of your head with both hands holding you in place as he spurts down your throat. “Mhgmmmmmmmmm” he lets out a long and pleasure-filled moan, still pumping his hips in short stokes, enjoying the last tendrils of his orgasm before pulling out. “God damn, that was so good!” He praises your skills, making you blush. “Ok” he starts with a laugh “let’s try this again, shower then room service”

*****************

By the time room service arrives after your shower, you’re at it again, this time riding Jaden in bed— a position you haven’t been brave enough to do in quite some time. You’ve already cum and Jaden is dangerously close when you both hear the faint knock followed by “Room service.”

“Shit, don’t stop,” Jaden whispers to you before shouting to room service “Just—fuck, j-just leave it by the door!”

Another roll of your hips and he’s done for, eyes rolling back, chiseled body twitching under you, calling out your name as he cums for the third time tonight.

*********

“We definitely worked up an appetite,” Jaden laughs looking at all the now completely empty pile of dishes on the room service cart. “You save any room for dessert?”

“No way, I’m stuffed,” you answer.

“Well I did.” Jaden smirks pushing you back down on the bed, and spreading your legs, his head disappearing between your thighs.

“Ohhh Jaden …”

**********

In the morning Jaden wakes before you, he can’t help but watch you sleep, sofly swiping a single knuckle along your cheek as he admires your beauty. The sensation stirs you from your slumber. Your eyes still heavy with sleep blink open and Jaden’s face comes into focus.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” Jaden says, his husk, sleep laden, voice sounding so sexy. “It’s just that you're even beautiful when you sleep.”

“S’ok,” You murmur, with a smile. “Gotta get up anyways,my friends are probably wondering where the fuck I am.”

***********

You put your key card to the door of your cabin and the door clanks open rousing your friends from their sleep.

“Shit, what time is it?” Ashley asks, squinting at her phone. “Ten thirty two, sorry we woke up so late. I think me and Liz had a little too much to drink last night. I hope you weren’t bored waiting around for us.” Ashley apologizes. “Have you already been swimming this morning?” she asks noticing you're in a robe with your bathing suit dangling from your hand.

“Wait!” Liz interjects, “That’s the bathing suit you had on when you left for your date with -with that college boy, what’s his face—“

“It’s Jaden” you remind her.

“— you’re just getting back now, aren’t you!! You spent the night!?” Liz exclaims accusingly.

The hue of your cheeks and your guilty smile give you away. You take a seat on the edge of the bed and wait for the slew of questions you know you’re about to get pummeled with.

“Oh my god, did you sleep with him?” Ashley asks.

You answer wordlessly, pulling back the collar of the robe, exposing the numerous wine colored markings that decorate your flesh.

“Jesus! I haven’t seen that many hickeys since highschool” Liz teases. “Ok, spill, how bad was the sex? I’m cringing just looking at your neck.”

“It was honestly the best sex I’ve ever had,” you blushed. “He made me feel like a fucking Goddess!”

“ There’s no way,” Liz scoffs. “How much experience can he even have.” She says with an eyeroll.

“Yeah I’m not buying it either,” Ashley laughs. “C’mom you don’t got to lie to us. We’ve all had our subpar hookups, especially when we were in college. Guys that age are all confidence and no skill.”

“No I’m dead serious, it was amazing!!!” You gush. “And not just his dick, but the way he made me feel…”

You proceed to tell them every detail of last night, from how he praised and appreciated your every flaw and gave you your confidence back, to just how good his dick felt inside you and how talented he was with his mouth and fingers. When you're done talking Liz gets up and starts walking towards the cabin door.

“Where are you going?” You ask perplexed.

“Going to find me one of these college boys” Liz laughs. “Does he have friends?” She jokes, making her way back to the bed. “Seriously though, sorry we teased you, that sounds amazing.”

“Yeah,” Ashley agrees. “I’m a little jealous— good dick AND body positivity, sign me the fuck up!”

“What are you guys gonna do when the cruise is over?” Liz asks, “You’ll probably never see eachother again.”

“Oh my god, that’s right! I forgot to tell you guys the best part! Earlier in the night when we were just talking in the hot tub we figured out that he only lives an hour away from us!”

“Holy shit, what a small world, that’s awesome.” Ashley exclaims.

“I’ll tell you what’s not small,” you smirk.

[ms-no1kpopstan]

Me or her?

Niki x reader

NOT PROOF READ

synopsis: you set your bff Riki up with Eunchae, one of your friends, on a date.. but what happens when you realise that you might have caught feelings for him along the way. So who will he choose, you or Eunchae?

PART ONE

Nishimura Riki has been your best friend since kindergarten and you don’t remember the last time you went out without him. It was safe to say that you did everything together. You’ve been through crushes, breakups, and all of that stuff together. You were in college now.

And, here you are texting him whether he would like to go on a date with your friend Eunchae. And he said yes. That answer was one you did not expect at all. ‘Okay, sure’ you type into your chat. You already asked Eunchae and she said yes as well. You told them a bit about each other since they'd never met before, just to have a few convo starters and prevent very awkward silences…

It was now the day of their date and you took it upon yourself to find Riki the perfect outfit and damn, did it look good. You chose a black shirt with his favourite anime’s print on it and some baggy blue jeans. It looked perfect. While you sent him off, you actually felt like a proud mom who was watching her son graduate…

You were super happy about this and god, did you hope this went well. He always told you how it always seemed like he pushed girls away when actually he was just trying to get to know them before a relationship. So this was a chance for him to redeem himself and finally get a girl… you couldn’t wait till they got together and you could tell everyone about you playing their Cupid.

Now you just needed to wait until he got back in a few hours.. a few hours without him wouldn’t be that hard, would it?

You got off your bed and made your way to the couch to watch tv but you just couldn’t without him there to watch with you. So you resorted to scrolling through social media with a cup of instant ramen next to you. A FEW HRS LATER

You hear the keys to your apartment jangling and watch as Riki walks in with a big smile on his face

“Phew,” you think “it must have gone well if he’s smiling so much”.

“y/nnie, the date went so well, we talked a lot, shared a bowl of ice cream and we walked around the place for a bit! I hope we could do that again…” he says, happily. “That’s great riks, did you get her number too??”, you ask, excitedly. “Yeah, I did and oh my god she’s so pretty! Like I know you told me she was pretty but she was just more beautiful than I thought!!!!”

“Okay that’s really great ki! And also, wanna watch that new kdrama with me? I’ve been wanting to watch it for a while…” you say with a soft tone towards the end.

“Okay sure Y/nnie! Even I've been wanting to watch that one”

You make some popcorn and sit down next to each other on the couch, your head on his shoulder and your fingers intertwined(in a friendly way of course….)

Physical affection wasn’t something rare in your friendship and that’s why a lot of people thought you two were dating. Well, all you had to say about today was it was a great day! Riki’s date went great, and you were watching a new kdrama with him too! What more could you ask for?

•____________________________________________ A/n End of part one! And also tell me if you want to be added to the taglist. By the way i Don’t have a schedule for updates so it will be a bit irregular! pls interact with the story if you want. Re blogs, comments and likes are appreciated! Hope you liked it! And this is my first series so pls keep that in mind before giving hate comments. Also, rude and judgmental comments will be deleted and blocked. sorry for the long note!

TAGS; @leaderwonim @mandukkul @copyhanni @nikiswifereal27 @stariikis @ad0rechuu @copyhanni @jungkit @rk1stars @rikihqq @wonryllis

DOUBLE UPDATE YAYYYY okay bye!

A/n pt 2 @ms-no1kpopstan’s not yours. Please do not translate, or repost without my permission and it must have my credits if so.