#mostly kissable

[cherrysmooth-ie]

BINNIE LOVE OF MY LIFEEEEEEE

[kissablelips-desireslure-vol1]

KARE NO IRU SEIKATSU (2024)

SATO RYUGA (as Kazuhito)

&

SAKAI SHO (as Ryota)

[pagib1g]

look at this dumbfuck (any pronouns)

[constellations-and-energy]

princess peach 🍑 if she was a stoner butch… ?

[faexoxoxoxo]

ᴵ ᵖʳᵉᵗᵉⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵐⁱⁿᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃᵐⁿ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ...

SUMMARY: when people ask how you met satoru, your response would be “at a club,” and while he'd smile and nod along in agreement, there was much more to the story…

PAIRING: bartender! gojo satoru x actress! reader

TW: 18+, masturbation, obsessive satoru...

A/N: part of my bartender gojo series but can be read as a stand alone, mostly satoru being a lil creepy shit... I mean fanboy!

It all started with a magazine...

During his proud bachelor days, Satoru had been a faithful subscriber to various porn sites and magazines. It wasn't that he had any problems with finding women to satisfy his needs; on the contrary, women at the club were obsessed with him.

One charming grin paired with a wink was enough to get anyone flushed and ready to drop their panties for Gojo Satoru. It was all just way too easy, and with the lack of challenge, eventually he lost interest in hooking ups.

Now, this particular magazine was one of his all-time favorites, so imagine the dismay when instead of receiving the usual erotic magazine, he found the latest issue of Vogue delivered to his doorsteps. A simple error on the mailman's part, and further proof to Satoru, that one simply couldn't find good service anymore.

+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° .

Sighing with disdain, Satoru flipped through the pages. “Boring, boring, boring…” He muttered, preparing to dump the magazine in the trash. With his flawless skin and exceptional looks, what did he need this for!?

Just as he was about to toss it away, a particular image caught his eye - it was a picture of you.

Nothing much about the ad was special, except for you. Who'd been featured prominently, wearing a two-piece swimsuit and, holding up a bottle of sunscreen, with a charming smile that screamed, “Buy this.” clever sales tactic, using a pretty girl like you to promote products, and god, you were pretty. 

Satoru could feel his heartbeat pick up as he studied your face; the cheery red lipstick enhanced your features, he was hooked, and the growing tent in his pants further served as evidence of just how much.

Turns out Vogue wasn't so boring after all…

“Hmmm...” he moaned softly, sliding his hands down his sweatpants to massage his growing hard on, his eyes fixated on the outline of your curves, the way the blue bikini clung onto your tits, and how the pantie strings were tied in a cute little ribbon. It'd be so easy for him to rip the flimsy fabric off you...

“Fuck.” Satoru groans, squeezing the tip of his pre-dripping cockhole. He wasn't going to last long tonight...

+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° .

Getting you out of his brain proved to be impossible. Your face was always there in the back of his mind during whatever mundane tasks he'd been doing. In the shower, eating breakfast, at work, heck, even his dreams weren't safe, you'd wormed your way in them with the same kissable lips and sweet smile; it was like he was back to being a teenager boy with a puppy crush.

Two weeks after failing to distract himself, his resistance cracked, and he looked up your name online.

You were an actress...

That was the first thing Satoru learned. Not yet a household name, but a rising star nonetheless, with a decent amount of people seeming to enjoyed your works.

The second thing he found after obsessively scrolling through your social media accounts was that you had a boyfriend, Naoya Zenin. Now that was a name Satoru was familiar with—the regular VIP asshole at one of his clubs.

Lips twisting into a disgruntled frown, he stares at a recently posted picture of you with Naoya. What did you even see in this punk? He was an egoistical little shit...

+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° .

The following evening, Satoru sat down to watch the very first movie you had a leading role in, a typical light hearted rom-com. in it you'd played the role of a clumsy assistant, oblivious to the fact that your boss had a crush on you.

Dispute the predictable plot, Satoru couldn't bring himself to turn it off; his eyes locked onto your every expression as it shifted from serious to flustered during the romantic scenes. You were good Satoru admired despite not having much experience then, you obviously had versatility.

As the movie's plot advanced, so did the romance; simple handholding turned into kissing and making out...

Every time the camera zoomed in on you and your costar, Satoru gritted his teeth, a bitter taste raised to the back of his mouth, watching as you moaned into another man's lips. It was absurd, irrational, and he didn't even know you, so where was this anger coming from!? Why did he wish it was him on screan kissing you instead!? Why did his want to punch the fucker for touching you!?

+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° .

Safe to say, Satoru never watched any more of your works in the romantic genre again; his heart couldn't handle seeing you with another man...

What he did watch were interviews; he'd spent hours getting through every single one from the time of your debut, memorizing all of your preferences, from your favorite color to how many kids you wanted to the most used brand of perfume, shampoo and lotion.

He even bought a batch of perfume for himself, spraying it on his pillows and sheets, and using the lotion as lube whenever he'd fucked his fists to your pictures.

Eventually He'd lost count of the nights he spent lazily stroking his aching cock and imagining it was your little hands, or pretty lips on him ... those fantasies always ended with his cum splattered on his abs and the sheets. Not that Satoru minded the mess; he just wished he could have you there with him instead, longing to know how it'd feel to stuff your tight holes full of his cum...

Soon enough, his phone's wallpaper changed from the blank blue to a picture of you from your photoshoot for Vogue; he even hung a few posters of you in his closet, a little shrine dedicated to his one and only.

+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° .

It took some time for Satoru's best friends to notice his twisted obsession with you.

Shoko was the first one to point out how unhealthy it was, “At this rate you'll end up becoming a stalker, and getting charged for harassment.” she'd stated after finding out about his little collection.

“Just fuck a couple of chicks and get over this one, buddy.” Suguru advised, not knowing of his blue-eyed friend's various failed attempts at doing just that.

Satoru had tried to fuck someone.

The girl was one of his regular clients, tall, slim, hot, and pretty confident. She'd flirted with him a couple of times, and he'd indulged in it, thinking, why not?

He took her to dinner and had a fancy hotel room picked out just for the occasion. But when he finally had her in bed, he couldn't go through with it. She felt wrong; her eyes weren't the same shade as yours, her laugh wasn't like yours, and the way she talked annoyed him, so he left.

He'd tried this a few more times with different women, but it always ended the same.

The closest he'd come to getting his dick wet was in his private room in the back of the club. She had the same hair color as yours, and Satoru thought if he'd pretend hard enough, she could be you.

But then he made the mistake of moaning out your name instead of Sasha, or was it Simona ? ... well, he didn't remember, but whoever she was had left him with a harsh reality check, and a red slap mark on his face.

So He stopped trying after that.

The next woman Satoru fucked would be you or no one else. Sure, you had a boyfriend; sure, you didn't know he existed, and sure, there was a chance you never would, but he was convinced, with enough money and time, you would find your way to him.

Until then, Satoru would spend his nights imagining what it'd be like if he could get a chance to show you just how perfect he was for you, and pretending like you were his all the damn time . . .

✎⁠ I'm trying to get out of my writing slump so hopefully this was a good start (ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠) asks are open for feedback and ideas so feel free to send me thoughts <333

✎⁠ likes, reblogs, and comments are very appreciated ♡

✎ the dividers are from @chachachannah header is from @chromesaine on pinterest

[honestsycrets]

Idle Hands [Miguel O’Hara x Reader]

❛ pairing | miguel o’hara x bratty wife!reader

❛ type | drabble

❛ summary | you’re a little bit of a show-off.

❛ tags | size difference, mostly fluff and cheese, a bratty reader, gif credit to original poster, slight overprotectiveness, an argument about a ‘dress’, just a kiss!

❛ sy’s notes | My obligatory bratty reader story. Just a light drabble to break up work on another chapter I’ve been working on. A few translations: Mande: Yes? (formal), Otra Vez: Again.

His little wife was a show-off, he was not. 

Not intentionally. There were some things about himself he could not hide: the fangs, talons and claws, vivid organic webbing, brawny body, and other… glaringly obvious attributes. Attributes that he could not easily suppress. Now you, on the other hand--

“Miguel~” you sang in that wonderfully sing-song voice of yours. It was followed by the tapping of your feet running into the lab. Oh, here we go. He didn’t acknowledge your entrance with anything more than a well-placed grunt as he ran through lab reports with a shuffle of his hands. He had things to do. Things that didn’t include… distractions. “Miguel!”

“Si! Yes, what?! What do you need?” he slammed his hand down on his desk and threw you a look. You paused before him and fiddled with the bottom of your dress. You never came into the lab just to see him— because you knew how much work he had to do. You came to tease him. 

He knew this was another one of your bids for attention. You always finished the tasks he threw at you quickly and efficiently. From the looks of it, you were indeed done with what needed to be done and here to harass him like the brat you were. He made a note to give you more work. His forehead grew with a line of tension as you pouted your soft, kissable lips at him. Then,  as he brought his hand to the back of his neck to massage his sore muscles, he turned around. Not this again. Not now.

“Don’t raise your voice at me. Isn’t it ‘¿Mande?’, Miggy.”

His eyebrow twitched. He gritted out a cool “¿Mande?” through his interlocked fangs.

“Look at my new dress,” you flounced around and whirled into a spin. 

He threw a look over his shoulder. Defining that as a dress was kind at best. It was a lovely pink and covered less than it should have. Worse, the dress was not equipped to handle your ass, even if it was obscured with a longer skirt in the back. His gaze drifted across the meager crisscrossed straps clinging to your chest. Show off. “Isn’t it pretty?”

He turned away from his work and crossed his thick arms one over another. Then, he twisted his finger to motion you to spin again. “Otra vez. Slow.”

You turned your foot tight over the other, spinning in a whirl of powdery pink. He wasn’t sure if it was the dress he was lingering on anymore or the bright smile plastered across your face. Even a pretty dress couldn’t brighten how you looked when you were happy. It was irreplaceable.  Miguel leaned on his table. A smile crept onto the corners of his normally stoic lips. “Beautiful.”

“You think so?” you came closer to trace your fingertips over his chest in deliberately small teasing circles. Your hand then flattened, reaching as far up on his chest as you could go while on your tippy toes. 

Miguel’s hands secured themselves on your waist before effortlessly lifting you onto his desk. He allowed his hand to glide up your thigh and delicately part your thighs from kissing one another. He took up the spot between your legs as his. You shimmied closer to him with the brightest shit-eating smile he’d seen that week, likely from your victory of relieving him from the many live screen panels and anomaly files.

“I always think so.”

With a soft, pleased hum, your fingertips danced across his shoulders. You always seem to know where the achiness was, working your hands over the spot. He rumbled, half pleased and half annoyed that he was pleased in the first place. The moment of rare relaxation irked him. You nibbled your plump lower lip in preparation for your next question, a sight that Miguel’s half-lidded eyes didn’t miss. “So... what if I wear it on my next big, bad villain detail?” 

Despite your words, you fluttered your lashes at him like it was a joke... like it was inconsequential. His gaze hardened. He hated how you challenged him in areas you knew he wouldn’t be okay with. To soothe the beast, you traced your fingertips over his jawline, peppered with stubble. Your hands slinked around his head and delved into his thick tresses to drag him to your lips. Usually a wall of muscle, he stumbled forward and found himself enveloped in your muscular legs that hooked around his hips.

You slipped your tongue against his lips, a slight movement that invited his mouth to open up for yours. Miguel’s hand clasped at your waist before he drew his tongue against yours. You grazed his sharp fangs and swirled around his tongue. Miguel teased your lower lip with a soft nip when you tried to pull away. He let you escape at the price of another sweet kiss on his lips. 

“Not a chance.” He huffed. His breath was warm against your lips. Then, he tapped his finger on your chest. “This? This is for my eyes-- only.” 

“I know,” you hummed. “I know.” 

[ggyuha]

good cop, bad cop / leon

[ summary ] : you lost your belongings after a party—of course you’d need help but seeing how the officer is so handsome, maybe he can help you in more ways than one? ( wc is 3.6k words )

[ c/w ] : dom!leon x afab!reader, handjob, fingering, unprotected piv, car sex, degradation, pet names, age gap (reader is in college, leon is in early/mid 20s), …

[ note ] : he isn’t acting like a cutie patootie re2r leon bc it’s mostly self-indulgent but enjoy my filthy leon brain rot anyways & ik it’s p long but i love porn w plots ><

having partying all night, it was inevitable to lose something in the process—the something, in your case, was your purse. of course, how cliché.

it had your money, cards and phone in it and hell if you can survive without your phone.

with sore feet and tired heels, you made your way to the nearest police station. it was almost empty, save for a couple of bored-looking officers. they were all buried in paperworks except for one—damn was he a sight for sore eyes.

he had blond hair which was parted in a curtain-ish type of bangs. his eyes were icy blue, the type to bore holes in someone when they stare too hard. his nose was long and tall, it sat perfectly in the middle of his pretty face. his lips were plump and red, so kissable but save that for later, you thought. it’s your purse over this handsome cop.

he walked up to you with a smile on his lips, his puppy eyes looking brightly at you. “hello, is there anything i can help you with?” he asked gently. you saw the way his eyes roamed over your body, up and down, checking you out. you straightened your back, feeling a sense of pride to have such an attractive man gaze at you that way. who wouldn’t, to be honest? with the way your tight black dress hugged your curves perfectly, the way the hem showed a generous amount of your thighs. you sure are a looker.

“yes, please,” you said in the softest way possible, his eyes flicking back up to match your stare. “my purse was stolen and… and i have to get home. is it possible to borrow a phone?”

he raised his brows. a phone? you’d borrow a phone instead of asking for a lift back home. he was disappointed but intentionally gave you his personal phone instead of his work phone. “here, sweetheart.” he just couldn’t hold that one back. he had a thing for pet names and he sure as shit can’t help himself but call you nicknames.

you blinked a few times, flustered with the pet name but you took the phone from his hand and dialled your friend’s number. it took him a few rings. “hello, chris?” chris was your older brother’s best friend. he’s nice and understanding, he acts more brotherly than your own brother so you didn’t hesitate to punch his number in the keypad.

“yes?” he mumbled groggily. you felt a little guilty, disturbing him this late at night but you had to suck it up or you wouldn’t get home. “uhm, i’m in a police station. i lost my purse. can you come and get me?” there was silence for a few seconds before you heard a loud sigh. he said your name, asking to confirm if it was you.

but of course, it was you. who else would cause trouble only to bother him afterwards, right?

“yes, it’s me.”

you heard a low grunt—fuck, you thought. “i can’t, i’m sorry… i’m s’posed to watch my lil’ cousin for the whole night and my uncle used the car.” your lower lip caught in between your teeth. “i see,” you replied in a steady tone, careful not to sound disappointed because you knew chris would feel even more guilty, if he wasn’t feeling that now, which you sure as shit he is.

“it’s okay, chris. thanks anyway. there are tons of officers here,” you said, eyeing the said officers, which you can count with the fingers of a hand. you couldn’t tell chris the truth though.

“maybe i can ask for a lift.” leon’s ears perked up and he fought hard to hold back a grin.

chris hummed on the other end of the line. “i’ll come by tomorrow to check on you, is that good?” he knew your parents are on a business trip and your brother is, most probably, not home. you nodded, slightly forgetting he won’t see. “yes, thanks.”

you handed the officer’s phone back to him. “i can give you a ride.” leon offered with a small smirk. you shivered slightly under his piercing gaze. you could feel the palpable tension between you two and god, was it wrong. you were barely done with college—how old are you? eighteen? nineteen? fuck, it was so wrong but it felt so right.

curious as you were about his age, you refrained from asking.

“okay,” you said, “sorry, i didn’t catch your name.” you looked up at him with doe eyes. you sure knew how to use your charms, he thought. you were worming your way into his head. he was beginning to imagine things—said things being him thrusting his hips, ramming into you roughly—but he isn’t telling you that. yet.

“leon kennedy, but it’s just leon for you.” he gave you a wink before walking past you, gesturing for you to follow him. “i’m almost done with my shift anyway. can you wait for 10 minutes, sweetie?” he glanced back at you over his shoulders, “let me just hand in my paperworks and clock out, yeah?” it took you a few to process his words, his voice calling you sweetie ringing in your head.

“sure,” you answered, “i’ll wait—“ you eyed the lounge and sat on one of the chair, “—here.” he chuckled before walking away to go to his desk, organising piles of paperworks. he grabbed two handfuls of those papers and put them in drawers. the rest of the stack, he grabbed and he walked into an office, probably to hand it in.

he went out after minutes and he arranged his desk. an organised man, you thought, that’s so fucking hot.

he grabbed his backpack and slung it over one shoulder as he walked towards you. “i clocked out. ready to get home?” he smiled sweetly at you. you nodded and stood up, walking behind him.

you were surprised when he got in his car. like, his personal car. you guess it made sense since he already got off work but still. you thought he’d use the police car.

okay, chill, it isn’t even that big of a deal.

you climbed into his passenger seat. “took your sweet time, didn’t you?” he joked as he ignited the engine. you scratched your cheek. “sorry.”

he chuckled at your apology. “i was just kidding.” you shot him a brief glance and threw him a smile. damn did that do something to him.

he began driving, asking you for directions. it didn’t take that long before you reached your home. “this is it,” you said, pointing at the house outside the passenger window. he looked your way, his eyes drifting back to you after he eyed your house. it wasn’t that big but it still was a statement of your family’s wealth.

“thanks for driving me home. even after your shift ended too…” his hand moved from the shift stick to your knee, his eyes remained on yours, looking at you with a glint and you could swear that you could see through him. “it’s not a problem, princess. don’t mention it.” a corner of his lips curved up in a sly smirk. oh, was he a handsome devil—which was ironic since he’s in the force, doing good.

you bit your lip, holding back to gaze at his hand on your knee. it was burning your skin but you were so fucking aching for his hands to burn more than just your knee.

you hummed a response. “alright, leon.” despite knowing that you’re supposed to get out of the car, because the ride is done, you couldn’t move an inch, holding onto his meaningful stare while he killed the engine. “what?” you huffed out silently. his mouth is still curved up in a smirk and his eyes watched you hungrily, almost as if this whole interaction is a bit too entertaining for him.

what the fuck is behind those eyes?

“maybe next time,” he leaned in closer and your breath caught in your throat, “don’t party too hard, yeah?” his breath fanned your cheek. “or do. then maybe i’ll see you around again.” you gasped inaudibly then bit your lip. “you’re not getting your message across, officer kennedy.” you raised a brow at him. “are you telling me to run wild or not?”

leon grinned at your question. he liked this side of you; bold, confident. you’re a minx and you know it.

“i don’t care,” said leon in a low tone. god, did it sound so sexy, so illegally. “i guess i’m saying, do what you will in life but i wanna see you again.”

your eyes widened a bit and it broke free, that sly smile you’ve been holding back for too long. he thinks he has you in his grasp but no, you have him in your grasp.

men are that easy. for you, that is. play dumb, play innocent—or don’t—it doesn’t matter, actually. just look tempting and they eat everything up.

“i’m still a student, officer,” you finally tell him. he doesn’t show a hint of surprise, almost as if he knew. he looked away and pursed his lips, choosing his words carefully now but it’s quite too late for that, isn’t it?

“but you don’t really care, do you?” you added in a sultry tone. his eyes flicked back to you, reflecting sinful emotions—and you could almost see what kind of thoughts danced in his head, how lewd and how fucking hot those thoughts were.

his lips curved up in a smile but he tried to hide it as he rested his elbow on the steering wheel and put a hand on his lower face, the back of it pressed against his mouth.

“you don’t know that,” said leon in a whisper. your finger traced patterns on the back of his hand that’s still on your knee. you saw his adam’s apple bob in his throat. “oh, but i do.” you grabbed his hand and yanked it so you could pull him closer to you again. his eyes widened, caught off guard.

you were having so much fun. he always seemed collected. all throughout the evening, he was flirting but now, he was at your mercy. fuck those pretty eyes of yours or those damned wet lips. he’d do anything to touch you—and you could feel yourself wanting the same thing.

you clutched the collar of his shirt with one hand, your other hand ran through his ash blond hair. “i know what you’ve been thinking the entire time. trust me, officer kennedy, i’ve seen those eyes before.”

his face contorted to that of jealousy. so you’ve been through this before? you’ve seduced other men? and god so help him—you’ve fucked other men?

you watched as his eyes glinted in envy and he looked so dangerous, so tantalising. you bit the tip of your tongue inside your mouth, your gaze dropping to his lips tugged in a frown.

he grunted, feeling the tension increase. “fuck this,” he murmured and gripped your arm tightly. you winced in pain but looked up at him with a smile. “i’ll fuck you better.”

your mouth dropped open in surprise, his words catching you off guard a bit. apparently, he took this action for something else, as an invitation, and he leaned forward, crashing his lips with yours in a rough and wet kiss.

you’d be lying if you said this wasn’t your goal, not where you wanted to end up in, because it so fucking is.

your hands kept on clutching his shirt, pulling him closer as you kissed him back with much fervour. he groaned into the kiss, sending waves of pleasure. really, damn this man to hell but he’s such a fucking good kisser.

he nibbled at your lower lip, biting it and licking it all while interlocking with it. he bit harder this time and you gasped. he eased the pain by licking it and then pushed his tongue in your mouth, swirling and dancing with yours.

he pulled away, but you knew he only did to let you breathe because he would fucking drown you with his kisses if he could.

“damn…” you were panting heavily. your heart was pounding so erratically, you thought it was possible to suffer from a heart attack. you looked at him through your eyelids. “what do you think?” he asked, caressing your cheek with his hand. “i kissed you better, didn’t i?”

you rolled your eyes and frowned at his question. what a jealous bastard! “huh,” you scoffed, “are you making out with me to heal your ego? are you seriously competing with other men you don’t even know?” you raised your brows at him.

“no, no, no, princess—you don’t get it. i have to make sure i do you better so next time, you come back to me and not them.”

without waiting for your response, he gripped your waist tightly to lift you up, guiding you to him. he adjusted the driver’s seat, pushing it back to give you enough space to straddle his lap. you huffed out shakily, the new position heightening your desire. you gripped his shoulders.

“oh, so there’s a next time?” you raised a brow at him and he just gave a smug sneer. “‘course. i’m not an idiot. why would i make you be a one time thing? you’re too pretty for that.” you rolled your eyes at him but secretly flattered he finds you attractive enough to want you more than a one-night stand.

he just chuckled at your reaction then his hands gripped your hips firmly and crashed his lips with yours once more before trailing down to your jaw and neck, nipping on your skin at every opportunity, leaving hickeys.

you tilted your head, giving him more access to your neck, your fingers entwined with his soft hair, combing and gripping them to spur him to keep going.

his hands gave your hips a gentle squeeze before sliding upwards to fondle your tits through your tight dress. you gasped and he chuckled against your skin. he pulled your neckline down, revealing your round breasts and erect nipples. he cupped them with his big hands, pinching and pulling on your buds with his long fingers.

“shit…” you murmured, tipping your head backwards as you fought back a moan. his hands are so filthy but you bet you haven’t even seen the half of it.

he pushed you gently, your back resting against the steering wheel. you watched him hike the hem of your dress up to your waist and palmed your mound without a word. you yelped, feeling him trace a finger along your slit through your panties. he could feel just how wet you already are and that elicited a throaty growl from him.

“messy little girl,” he whispered as he pushed your panties aside, gathering some of your slick with the tip of his fingers before rubbing your throbbing clit, working in circles. you let out a nasty mewl, your hand flying to your mouth and clamp it shut—which didn’t help at all because once he found the perfect rhythm to work on your clit, rolls of whimper and moans escaped your lips.

“so vocal, aren’t you? don’t hold back, i want to hear it.” hesitantly, you removed your hand from your mouth, putting two of them on his shoulders instead. “leoooon…” you moaned when he pushed two thick digits past your slick folds, the heel of his palm bumping against your nub every time he pumped in and out. once you’re adjusted to his fingers, he began curling them and with how long his fingers are, the tip of them reached spots you normally couldn’t on your own.

“this the spot?” he asked teasingly, sliding his fingers in and out then curled them to press on your g-spots. he kept his ministrations, only picking up the pace but doing it at the same intensity.

you were mush at this point, the steering wheel being the only thing keeping you sitting up because if you weren’t leaning, you sure as hell would be falling back with the way he’s doing your body.

“your tight pussy is just as vocal as you. how cute.” you grunted at his words, feeling your walls clench around his fingers. he was right though. every time he thrusted those damn fingers in you, filthy squelching filled the car.

“i’m close, please…”

he looked up at you and smiled, his other hand tucking your hair behind your ear then leaned forward to kiss your lips briefly. “go on then, cum on my fingers, baby.” a couple more thrusts of his fingers and your hips began to rhythmically spasm, riding your orgasm while he continued to slowly stroke your spongy walls, your cum coating his fingers.

he pulled out, his tongue swirling around his cum-coated digits and licked them clean down to his knuckles. “delicious little thing, aren’t ya,” he said as he unbuckled his pants, his other hand grabbing your wrist to guide your hands and palm his fully erect cock.

your eyes widened and you exhaled, your fingers barely wrapping around his length. your thumb swiped on the precum gathering on his tip and he shakily sighed, throwing his head back on his seat’s headrest, watching you with half-lidded eyes.

you lazily stroked him. honestly, you didn’t have enough energy for this. you just want him inside you and all this teasing—it’s only making you impatient. “hmp,” his brow twitched slightly and glared at you, “brat. i know as hell this isn’t how you give handjobs.” he grabbed your wrist and pushed it up and down to stroke his throbbing cock harder. “what’s the matter? can’t wait ‘til my cock’s inside you?” he smirked and despite wanting to deny his accusation, you just whined instead and watched him use your hand as a fleshlight.

“shit, hold on, baby.” his hips were bucking up in rhythm with your hand, fucking your fist with urgency. with a throaty moan, his cock twitched before ropes of cum spilled on your hand and some on your stomach. you thought about how good it’d feel to have this hot and sticky thing stuffed in you.

he panted heavily but he was clearly still hard. he hasn’t had enough, for sure. he grabbed your hips, lifting them up so your pussy is hovering above his cock then you slowly sank down, your head tipping back as you felt just how much he’s stretching your tight walls—fuck, he’s so big.

his fat tip effortlessly hit your cervix just by being balls deep inside you. you groaned and impatiently squirmed on his lap. “wait up, you slut,” he grunted before firmly holding your hips to help you ride his dick. he rammed inside you relentlessly, repeatedly hitting all your spots with his curves and length. series of moans spilled from your swollen lips. your hands found your bouncing tits, playing with your nipples which heightened your stimulation.

“filthy girl,” he spat but watched you play with yourself while he used your tight cunt like an expensive cocksleeve. “shit shit shit…” you breathlessly whimpered, “not that spot, not that spot—“ liar, that’s what you are because he is thrusting in such a good spot but if he keeps hitting that… “jesus, did you just cum?” he furrowed his brows and stared at the creamy white coating the base of his dick. “oh, that’s good, fuck you’re so tight…” he seemed to be reprimanding you for cumming first but he couldn’t help and enjoy the way you’re just so fucking tight, clamping down around his thick length after your release.

he kept pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you, pumping his cock in you and stuffing your womb with his thick cum as if he’s planning on giving you his kids.

you don’t know how or when it happened, that you’re in your house, on your bed. both of you are fully naked now while he rammed into you like a hungry man, his hands pressing on the back of your thigh ‘til they’re levelled with your ears. “leon, oh god, i’m…!” your walls clenched around him again, pussy twitching and hips spasming though you’re tired from cumming over and over again around his cock. he just kept spilling his load into you.

“shit, baby, can’t get enough of this pussy.” he pulled out and watched his cum ooze out of your puffy lips. you caught a glimpse of the sunrise from outside your window and series of doorbells echoed in your home, followed by chris’ voice. fuck.

he called your name but leon just raised his brows at you before flipping your limp body, spanking your ass to lift them up properly. you whined and did as he wanted, presenting yourself to him while your face is pressed on a pillow, muffling your moans and cries as he fucked you roughly for the nth time since last night.

“shh, princess. we gotta pretend nobody’s home, don’t we?” he whispered from behind, leaning forward to press soothing kisses on your shoulder blade as filthy sounds of skin slapping skin and wet squelching while he rammed mindlessly his cock in you filled your bedroom. “wouldn’t want your friend to catch us like this after all.”

“mhm, shit…” he murmured as his hips picked up pace, swinging more sloppily and with more urgency before spilling another load of thick cum in you. jesus, is he ever gonna stop cumming at all?

“pretty girl, takin’ me so well. what’s another one more, yeah?”

[heembie]

three shots, lemon drops

idol!sim jake x fem!reader; wc 3.0k; genres fluff, established relationship; warnings suggestive!! they make out, mentions of alcohol, v touchy a/n ib twitter shenanigans regarding jake on live but i'm a slow writer so this is late! oops

Jake is pushing it.

He’s situated in front of the camera he’d set up, swaying around in his chair as he watches comments sprint across the screen, including a barrage of messages like Hello from the Philippines! and blink if you see this. He’d taken to Weverse tonight, dragging you into a little studio with him the second he’d arrived at the company building, and suddenly the warning text that Jay had sent you thirty minutes ago started making a lot more sense.

Jake leans closer to the screen as you sit on a couch behind his camera, his lip becoming trapped between his teeth in concentration. You sigh, already imagining the thousands of messages flooding in, no doubt fawning over your boyfriend’s tendency to appear maddeningly kissable.

“Jake, I love your lips,” he reads out, leaning back into his chair with an amused smile playing at his mouth. He lifts a hand, strong fingers coming up to rub softly at the rosy skin he’d been chewing at. “My lips?”

You have to suppress a snort at the obvious fanservice, ignoring the irritation that starts to claw at your gut. You’re used to this—the flirting, the bold advancements on the part of his fans, his reciprocation. It is his job after all, to sell the fantasy. And you know he enjoys it, finds genuine hilarity and fondness in being able to make his fan’s days. It’s never really bothered you, because you’re secure enough in yourself and in your relationship with Jake, despite it being a secret to the public, that it doesn’t keep you awake at night to know he spends his time making other girls believe they have a chance.

Besides, they might know how it feels to flirt with him, but only one person knows the smell of his bedsheets, the warmth of his skin.

Tonight, though—tonight, it’s getting to you, because you’ve never really had to be in the room to witness any of it. Jake typically goes live when you’re not around, to spare you even though he knows it doesn’t usually bother you. Clearly, him having been dropped off tipsy after his dinner with Jay changed his mind, because he’d insisted that you wait for him while he does his live. You’re mostly trying to make sure he doesn’t say anything he shouldn’t.

There’s a lazy smile on his face, one that quirks up at the corner. His eyes fall on you, sluggishly, like they’d been doing all night. It makes your skin prickle, but you make a motion for him to look back at the camera. 

“What’ve you guys been up to?” He asks, running a hand through his rich brown hair. You’re trying to busy yourself as you wait, scrolling on your phone while he talks. But his eyes keep flickering up to you, a little glassy, and surely that must be coming off strange to the viewers. You wonder what they’ll all take to Twitter to rant about tonight—will it be that the company should stop sending in staff to control the members’ every word? You stifle a giggle at the thought.

It’s not funny for long, though, because then Jake keeps talking.

“No, I’m not drunk,” he comments, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He pauses. “Well. Only a little.”

You groan quietly, making wild motions above your head as if to ask him: why would you admit that? He only gives you another look, his lips twitching before he looks back at the camera. 

“Sorry, guys, I’m a little distracted.”

“Jake,” you hiss, making sure to keep your voice quiet enough that you won’t be heard over the live. Jake’s mouth slips into a slow smile. He leans back into his chair, the lids of his eyes lowering slightly as he stares at you.

You squirm in your seat on the couch. Something in his gaze is a little dark, a little loopy. Almost like he’s imagining something his brain can’t comprehend in its current state; like if he tried too hard his eyes would cross with desire and he’d probably say something he shouldn’t.

You look down at your phone, trying to get his attention off of you. It works, at least for now. He continues to read comments off the screen.

“You had steak for dinner? Me too,” he murmurs, palm pressed against his face. “Oh, jajangmyeon, nice.”

It goes on like that for a couple more minutes. You think he’s finally settled down, that the little alcohol he’d drunk had finally faded away enough to render him at least slightly sane. The hour keeps ticking away, so much so that you’ve even started thinking about what you’ll make yourself as a snack tonight before bed, and how you’ll be able to work around Jake’s schedule tomorrow to meet up with him for lunch. That is, until:

“What’s distracting me?” Jake chuckles, fixing the sleeve of his brown jacket. “Mmm…if I told you, then you’d know.”

He’s teasing them, riling them up so they’ll spam him with a million questions from a million different girls who want to be the one he confides in. Your gaze flickers up from your phone, watching him carefully.

“Not related to the comeback,” he says, shaking his head a little too seriously. You’re getting the sense that he’s up to something, unsettling you enough to make you put your phone away. 

“No, not a staff member,” he chuckles. His voice has a lilt to it, one that gives away that he thinks whatever he’s doing is funny. You stand up from the couch, because he’s started to actively ignore the concern painted on your face. You don’t want to accidentally alarm the viewers, so you try subtly to gain his attention.

“What are you doing?” You whisper, slightly panicked. “Don’t say anything stupid. Your managers are going to kill me.”

Jake finally looks up then, through his lashes. There’s a delightful flush to his cheeks, a playfulness in the way he casually drags his eyes up and down your body. He sucks in a little air through his teeth, his tongue playing at the inside of his cheek as he glances at the screen once more.

“You think it’s Jungwonie? You guys are so funny.”

You tiptoe closer to his camera, not caring that your shadow is now visible on the wall behind him. He’s going to say something.

Jake is grinning now, and then he turns back to you, letting out a long, dragging sigh.

“I’m not into sharing, so you’ll just have to trust me, guys.” He cocks his head, eyes half-lidded. “My girlfriend is hot.”

Your jaw drops.

The rest of your body moves at its own accord. One of your hands reaches over his laptop to clap over the camera, and the other hand presses frantically at some buttons on his keyboard, wasting no time in ending the live. You’re frozen there, body tipped over his setup with your eyes practically bugging out of your skull.

All the while, Jake is leaned back in his chair, a leisurely smirk playing at his lips.

“Don’t look so happy to be mine.”

Your hand falls from its position, and you stare at your boyfriend in shock.

“What the fuck?”

The situation is settling in fast, like a brick to the gut, and you’re already starting to spiral just thinking of the fallout. You ignore Jake’s stupid face, pacing around the room in panic, a hand reaching up to rub against your eyes.

“What the fuck. What the fuck. Oh my god, the company is gonna hang both of us. I should’ve—I should’ve just listened to Jay when he texted me not to let you go live tonight. Jake—” you whirl around, doubling down around the corner of Jake’s desk, walking up to him in anger, “everyone fucking knows now. There’s gonna have to be so much damage control.

Jake only stares at you for a moment, the smirk from earlier faded away. It’s left something darker in its place—a little more raw, a little more real. He shrugs, his eyes boring into yours.

“So what?”

Notifications start going off on both of your phones. Jake silences his without even blinking, but you snatch yours up furiously.

“What do you mean so what? So this,” you grit, holding up your phone. “You think I’m worried about myself or something? We can take the heat from your company, but everything else? That’s only going to you. What the hell were you thinking?”

Silence. Jake takes the phone from your hands gently, switching the ringer off wordlessly. He puts it next to his, seemingly uninterested in any protest on your part (there comes none). 

“I was thinking,” he starts, looking up at you from his seat, “that I’ve been wanting to do that ever since my driver dropped me off and I walked in to see you looking like that.” He motions at your outfit, his other hand rubbing small circles into his lips. 

“Besides.” A smile creeps onto his face, and he reaches out, tugging lightly at your hips, causing you to stumble forward a little. His head rests at your stomach level. “You’re so cute when you’re jealous, baby.”

You blink down at him, shocked, blush spreading across your skin at a furious pace. So he’d noticed it, then, the irritation that you thought you’d hidden well. In fact, he’d been hoping for it. That’s probably why he’d insisted that you wait for him while he went live. He’d really bit the dust as soon as he walked into the HYBE building.

“Jake,” you warn, although there’s no real conviction behind it. You’ve lost all the anger from earlier, replaced by something weak. “This is bad.”

He hums distractedly, dipping his head to mouth at the fabric of your shirt. You can feel the warmth of his lips at your stomach, feel him smiling gently against you. 

“Really bad,” he murmurs.

You breathe out slowly, your breath stuttering for no reason other than nerves. Jake looks up at you anyway, the tipsy glimmer to his eyes reflecting your own rosy face. He furrows his brows in a way that makes your heart ache, it’s so adorable.

“You want me to stop?”

You consider it for a moment. The other members, the company, everyone is most definitely trying to get a hold of you both right now. But then you’re looking back at Jake; at the wanton look in his eyes, and you find yourself shaking your head, lowering yourself into his lap without so much as a little sigh. You know you’ll both be getting a mouthful later—but for now, it doesn’t matter.

He smiles at you dazedly, planting firm hands on your hips to keep you steady. He lifts a hand up to brush a lock of hair from your face.

“Need you to say it,” he murmurs. 

You lean in, the air escaping your mouths mingling between you.

“I don’t want you to stop.”

Jake seals the distance between you instantly, his lips meeting yours in a feverish kiss. For a moment you feel weightless—like it’s just you and him, entwined in midair with nothing but an ache in your lips and sweat beading on your skin. And then he’s moving, his hands sliding down to grasp your thighs as he noses at your jaw, littering kisses down its side and along your neck. He grounds you with the weight of every press of his full lips against your burning skin, and you can’t help but to tangle your fingers in the soft brown locks that sit at the nape of his neck.

“So pretty, baby,” he mumbles against your neck, the low rumble of his voice causing goosebumps to erupt on your arms. “Lucky I’m yours.”

A giggle tumbles out of your mouth, soft and earnest, and you can feel Jake’s teeth against your skin as he breaks into a grin.

“Mine,” you singsong, leaning your head back a little as he continues to mouth down towards your collarbone. “And they all know that now.”

Jake snorts. 

“And you always tell me it doesn’t bother you when they flirt.”

He lifts his head up a little, moving to the juncture between your jaw and your neck.

“It—doesn’t.” The last part comes out through gritted teeth, because suddenly Jake is sucking a hickey into your skin, color blooming in his wake. You hiccup on a breath, your eyes glassy as he pulls away to survey his work.

“Now you’re gonna be more distracting.”

You drop your head onto his shoulder in shame, heat rushing to your cheeks as he giggles in your ear. 

“Since when have I made such terrible decisions?” You whine against the fabric of his shirt, your voice muffled. 

He laughs, breathy, swaying you around on his lap.

“Hey, I’ll take the credit for this one.”

Your head shoots up, eyes narrowing as you smack his arm softly.

“Damn right you will. I was talking about letting you drag me into this room in the first place.”

Jake lifts his arms in surrender, a coy smile on his lips. He shrugs, and then he cocks a brow.

“Were you being serious about Jay texting you?”

You nod, fiddling absentmindedly with a button on his shirt.

“He said, and I quote: Be careful about letting Jake go live tonight, he’s extra stupid when he’s tipsy.” 

Jake stares at you blankly for a second.

“That fucker.”

You laugh, leaning in to press a kiss against Jake’s cheek. His dramatic act crumbles instantly, a smile forming on his face.

“He was right, though,” you say. The smell of Jake’s cologne drifts up from his neck, your eyelids fluttering helplessly in response.

“Not as right as the angle of my arm when I shove it up his—”

“Okay, stop talking about Jay—” you breathe, shutting your eyes, “and kiss your girlfriend.”

Jake shuts up, fast, one of his hands twitching against your thigh.

“Yes to both,” he replies, the other hand coming up to rest in the hair by your ear, tugging forward gently so your lips are touching. “Top ten words ever spoken, actually.”

He captures your bottom lip with his own, soft and languid. There are a million and one ways you could react to how good he is, but you settle for just touching him, fingers brushing along his neck, rubbing in small circles as he cups your jaw. His teeth scrape lightly against your lip, and you gasp quietly, your jaw falling open just that little bit more—pliant. He takes the chance to lick into your mouth, searing, the palm of his hand warm and strong against your cheek. The hand on your thigh crawls up your hip, slipping under your shirt just enough to rest atop the bone there, moving no further. He thumbs gently at your skin, drawing a low whine from your chest as he continues to kiss you.

Jake’s eyebrows furrow gently, lost in the sensation of your lips slotted against his. There’s a moment where he’s breathing hard against your mouth, having pulled away from you enough to have you panting not barely an inch from his face. His eyes rove over every part of you he can see, down to where you sit on his lap, his thumbs pressed into the dimples of your hips. You have to resist surging forward to kiss him again, momentary embarrassment at your inability to be disconnected from his lips for more than a minute vanishing almost as fast as it came on. You can’t blame yourself—the fans were right, after all, to point out his lips. They’re as soft and capable as they appear on camera, if not more.

A shy smile creeps onto Jake’s face.

“I love you, Y/N. Whatever happens, it was worth it.”

You sigh, a lovesick giggle threatening to jump out of your mouth.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“Exist.”

You smile at him, your nose scrunching up as you lean in once more to give him a long, chaste kiss, his eyelashes fluttering against your cheek.

Suddenly, there’s a bang. The door to the studio swings open, revealing a completely unimpressed Jay, his arms crossed over his chest. Jake breaks away from the kiss, and you turn a bewildered head to face the intrusion, your lips raw and glistening from earlier events.

“Thought so. Could you two stop eating each other's faces for a minute so we can go deal with the consequences of your actions?”

You blink in embarrassment, trying to picture the no doubt saucy image of you perched on Jake’s lap looking like you’d just given a vacuum a run for its money. It’s humiliating.

“That’s not—we were just—”

Jay snorts, eyeing your neck with amusement.

“I can see your hickey, Y/N.”

“My bad,” Jake chimes in, a dopey smile on his face. You cast him a sideways glare before turning around again to flash Jay a sheepish grin. He shakes his head.

“I should’ve known you’d be no help against his evils. You’re both equally airheaded.”

“Okay, rude—”

“Just get over to the meeting room already,” Jay interrupts, a sort of fondness underscoring his tone. “The internet is falling apart.”

Jake throws his head back in his chair, groaning, pulling you against his chest in the process.

“Five more minutes,” he grumbles into your hair.

“Jake. The media’s already all over this.”

Always the voice of reason, Jay is.

“Fine. One more kiss.”

“Sim Jaeyun,” Sunghoon’s voice screeches from the hallway outside the studio, followed by the loud stomping of his feet. You suspect he’s running.

Jake’s head launches up at a comical speed, you and Jay both laughing at the mildly fearful expression on his face.

“He’s coming,” you call, sliding off his lap onto slightly wobbly legs, reaching out a hand to your boyfriend. He takes it, grumbling.

“Can we just say I was talking about Layla or something?”

“You called me hot.”

“Oh, right,” Jake says, taking your hand softly as he starts for the door. “Definitely not Layla.”

tags! @junityy @hittoki @neos127 @iuwon @tyunni + ty to @/junityy and @4xiaojun for helping me when i was stuck ily guys 💓

[tarjapearce]

I'm just minding my own business, eating a nice hot Italian sausage sandwich, and my brain decided to do the naughty thinking

Imagine Miguel all pent up cause he hasn't been home cause our big man's a workaholic, and when he is home he's dead tired or you're busy too for whatever reason. You two finally get to sit down and have dinner for a little date night, he's just finally relaxing and ready to dig into the delicious meal you two made together, and the poor poor man looks up just in time to see your lips wrapped around a sausage or any other suggestive food item., and his brain just fries.

I never understood the food leading to dirty thoughts thing until one of my exes straight up forbid me from getting ice cream cones or popsicles on dates and he had to explain it. Now I just find it hilarious

Oh nonny, 🤭

Mild nsfw undercut. suggestive, Dirty minded Miguel ~

It didn't matter how heavy his shoulders felt like or how hefty they slumped, exhausted as he was, knowing you awaited him with welcoming arms was his reward after an extra busy day at HQ.

The Boss would find himself lost in your loving embrace, replenishing his energies with that gesture alone.

"Welcome home, Miggy"

Your voice was like a lullaby after the countless screams, barking orders to recruits that seemed to be slacking and so many complaints about the little malfunctions of his gizmo. But now, he was home with you, ready to prepare dinner.

Being a leader was exhausting, and when he was exhausted, he'd be hungry. Mostly of the times he'd be starving for you. Either just physical comfort like showering him in affection, playing with his hair or even letting him snuggle you on the bed or couch, whichever he plopped on first.

But other times it was the hunger for having you a trembling and breathless mess underneath him, mewling his name and pleading for more of him.

He chopped his share of vegetables as you cooked other things next to him. The little chat about his day turned into little playful bites on his arm, trying to light his mood up.

"Go sit down, I'll serve. You're tired."

"I'm okay, corazón."

You slapped his butt gently and smooched him, "None of that. You always work hard. Lemme spoil you, ok? Go sit."

Knowing that arguing with you was futile, he went to his seat and you served him one of his favorite comfort foods.

Huevos rancheros, some chile con queso and some spicy sausages. The way his lips burned at the spicy food was one of your preferred faces he made whenever eating along a tall glass of lemonade.

He dug right in after you sat next to him, devouring his food like he hadn't eaten in a long time, and knowing him, he probably hadn't have a nutritious meal in the past days. He groaned in delight at your seasoning.

"You'll choke, sweetheart. Do you want more?"

"I'll get it, it's ok."

He was about to stand up when his eyes darted towards you and your lips. Pouty and kissable lips perfectly molded in the round shape of the sausage. His Adam's apple bobbed as you bit down gently on it, letting the taste invade your mouth with a satisfied groan.

Some of the meats juices scurried away in the corner of your lips, one of your fingers dabbed away the little droplets before sucking it off your finger. His brain was entering an override. Lips parted as you took another bite, a little groan rumbled at the base of his throat as his eyes fixed on the degluting motion of your throat.

Just the way it moved when he slid in and out of your mouth, using your warm crevice in a more creative and delicious way. Your tongue peeked to lick your bottom lip, cleaning the saucy mix off it to then release it with an inaudible pop.

"You okay?" Big, round bunny eyes stared at him innocently.

"Yeah..." He tore his eyes away from you. Cause he knew that if he kept staring, he'd just throw you over his shoulder and take you to the bedroom where he'd make a trembling mess out of you. Tiredness slowly abandoned his body.

How could such mundane thing had turned his gears this way was beyond him.

"So good" You mumbled at the taste of the sauce he had done. His cock twitched almost involuntarily. Oh how he remembered the other intonations of such phrase, specially when he buried himself deep enough in your tight and moist walls.

"Miguel?"

His hands slicked his hair back, trying to placate his thoughts.

"Si?"

"Do you want more?"

He'd always want more, that wasn't even a question. Would it be too selfish to just rip your clothes off and bend you over the kitchen and raw you silly until your legs gave out?

Focus

But how could he when you were slurping the sausage off? Was it intentional? No. You were just hungry and he was definitely being dirty minded.

"You sure?"

"I'm fine, amor."

Lies. He wasn't fine and his cock certainly wasn't fine either, as it grew painfully tight in his sweatpants.

"Oh, you have something in your lips"

You'd dab away the sauce off him, to then lick it off.

Dios mío...

He stood gently to then pry the dishes away from your hands and threw you over his shoulder. It had been the last straw

"M-Miguel!" You giggled as he marched towards the bedroom. Exhaustion abandoning him completely.

Yeah, he'd be always hungry for something more.

[loguetowns]

the one that (almost) got away

roronoa zoro x fem!reader

it takes him 12 hours to realize

3.6k words

a/n: ok listen, i think i started writing this like 6+ months ago and it’s just been sitting in my drafts bc idk how to commit to endings so y’all are gonna have to take this as it is. also i have no concept of how sailing works or how long it takes oops

9:00 pm

“y'know, there's really no point to a farewell party if the one leaving isn't there.”

you look up from your spot on the library floor. your eyes land on the green-haired swordsman leaning against the doorframe and you smile.

“i’ll be there in a second. i just have some more stuff to go through.”

zoro eyes the mess of books surrounding you, recognizing a few of nami’s atlases and robin’s textbooks. “you haven’t finished packing yet?”

“i’m mostly done. i’m just trying to decide which books i want to keep.” catching his eye, you joke, “why? you want me gone that bad?”

crossing the room, a scoff leaves his lips. nothing could be further from the truth.

“you got me. i am so sick of you,” he says with a grin. “can’t wait to get rid of the annoying librarian invading my napping spot.”

zoro plops down on the bench behind you, catching a whiff of your shampoo as he lies down. you sit with your back to him, sorting through your piles, but zoro can hear the smile in your voice when you speak.

“you’re such a pretender, eh?”

zoro puts on a look of overdramatic offense, a hand on his chest. “me? you’re talking about me?”

at his poor acting, you turn around. you rest your chin on the bench, your face so close to zoro’s that one could only describe it as a kissable distance.

“you act like i'm all in your space, but nami told me that you never used to spend any time in here at all!”

“pfft, why would you ever trust what that con artist has to say?” zoro pokes your forehead. “you see it with your own eyes. am i or am i not here every day?”

you purse your lips as you think back to the last few months; he’s right.

you’ve spent most of your days in the ship’s library, and zoro has almost always stopped by. in the beginning, it would be for a few minutes, but over the last little while, he’d be in here as long as you were.

zoro smiles as he watches you think, eyebrows furrowed as you replay the last few months in your head. little do you know that this is exactly why the library is his new hideout. watching your pretty little mind work — doing what you love, thinking and studying and reading — is a far better use of his spare time than anything else he could be doing.

“anyway,” he says. “i guess your silly star stories have been a good trade-off.”

now it’s your turn to be mock-offended.

“silly star stories? you’re the one who asked about the constellations in the first place!”

“only because you kept talking about these fictional gods like they actually did something important.”

“says the guy who's completely enthralled by hades,” you roll your eyes.

“king of hell, god of the underworld,” he grins. “that’s my kinda guy.”

zoro laughs when you shake your head at him. he’ll never tire of teasing you; you are far too adorable with your little sigh and a ghost of a smile on your lips.

“did you know,” he says with a playful look. “that you still owe me about ten more constellation stories? d’you think you could squeeze in one more before we head up?”

zoro smiles at you, and you can't help but smile back. 

you have so many treasured memories with zoro in this library; ones of just the two of you (him napping while you studied), ones with nami and robin (and sanji until nami kicked the boys out for their incessant bickering), and ones where the night listens in as you recite the history of the stars.

whether you were telling the story of another righteous deity enacting justice, or the tale of mere mortals who insulted the gods, zoro would listen with his eyes closed, lying across the bench as he is now, and you’d sit in front of him as you are now.

everyone’s waiting for you upstairs and you hate to disappoint, but some things are more important — like telling a silly star story to a silly swordsman.

“of course i can.”

12:00 am

raucous laughter and cheering that’s loud enough to deafen anybody; empty plates, once piled high with food, now scattered around the room; bottles on bottles of sake and rum and whiskey and every liqueur that one would hope to find on a pirate ship.

these are zoro’s requirements for a good time, and suffice to say that your farewell party has them all in spades.

zoro watches his friends’ tomfoolery from his spot at the table (currently, luffy’s trying to get franky to see how far he can slingshot him) when you plop yourself into the seat beside him.

“this,” you say as your arm knocks against his, “is the best party i’ve ever been to.”

zoro takes a swig from his glass, “you haven’t partied until you’ve partied with pirates.”

“seriously! you guys are insane!”

as if to prove your point, franky chooses that exact moment to show off a juggling sequence involving a barrel of whiskey, a giant potted plant, and a squealing chopper.

you gasp at the spectacle but quickly dissolve into laughter when nami saves chopper, and it’s with both awe and pure excitement that you turn to zoro. laughter is etched into your lips, your cheeks are flushed, and zoro can’t help but marvel at how you’re even cuter when you’re having fun.

“what, you’ve never seen a cyborg man toss a speaking reindeer in the air before?”

you nudge him with your elbow, “well, excuse me for leading such a mundane life where animals don’t speak and men don’t tinker with their bodies.”

“ah, but that’s where you’re wrong.”

you look at zoro quizically.

he takes a sip of his beer, “most men do tinker with their bodies.”

it takes you a moment to catch his innuendo and zoro roars with laughter when the realization hits you. embarrassment tinges your pretty face and you shove him with a loud “ew, zoro!” but he can’t stop cackling.

“you’re disgusting!”

you make to swat zoro across the chest but he quickly catches your hand. he leans in to waggle his eyebrows at you, “but i’m not wrong, am i?”

you groan loudly, which only makes him laugh again.

perhaps it’s the alcohol that let his inhibitions go, or maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t have much longer with you, but when you hastily change the subject and there’s no longer a reason for him to still be holding your hand, he doesn’t let go.

when nami joins you two, his fingers slips between yours and to his surprise, yours do the same. sanji joins your threesome, then franky and robin, and in no time at all, it’s no longer just the two of you at the table.

but zoro doesn’t care.

drunk, carefree, and more content than he’s ever been, zoro closes his eyes and smiles. he lives in the moment, and in this moment, he’s happy — happy with a full stomach and a full glass, happy to be surrounded by his favourite people, and happy that, under the table, you’re still holding his hand.

3:00 am

“and what’s that one?”

hands swinging between you, you and zoro dodge the tide as you roam further and further from the thousand sunny. the sand is cool under your feet and the tide kisses your toes with each step. your other arm is stretched above you, pointing at a constellation in the distance.

“what is this - a pop quiz?”

you smile, “i want to make sure you don’t forget about my ‘silly star stories.’”

zoro groans, “has anyone told you that holding grudges isn’t healthy? keeping going and you’ll turn into a bitter old thing some day.”

you stick out your tongue, “you’re just afraid you’ll get it wrong.”

“wrong?” zoro scoffs. “i’ve gotten the past six right.”

walking along the beach, you and zoro fall in step with each other and your footsteps match the ebbing waves in perfect rhythm. you smile in his direction and his chest is flooded with a warmth that has nothing to do with the copious amounts of alcohol he’s consumed.

“alright, let’s see what we got here.”

zoro follows your gaze at the cluster of stars you’ve chosen, and he grins when he sees the constellation. “really? at least try to make this hard for me, please.”

his cocky attitude leaves you speechless, making zoro laugh. 

“you’re so annoying!” you shove him with your free hand and the force of his stumble pulls you along, and you shriek as he drags you into the ocean with him. he doesn’t let go of you, not even for a second — not when water splashes your legs, not when zoro’s pants get soaked as he spins you around. 

your laughter is warmth in its purest form, the kind that you can feel all the way down to your cold toes. when he sets you back down, you give his hand a little squeeze, to which zoro answers back with a tender smile.

now with wet feet and a distance between you that’s even smaller than it already was, zoro continues to walk alongside you.

“moving on from your pathetic distraction attempt,” — you let out a dramatic gasp — “i’ll tell you exactly who we were looking at.”

pointing at the starry zodiac sign, zoro speaks with complete confidence.

“virgo the maiden, otherwise known as persephone, wife and muse of the best god of them all, hades—”

“fanboy much?” you tease but zoro pretends not to hear you (the little tug of his lips tells you that he does).

“—who snuck her a pomegranate seed because he couldn’t bear for her to leave him.”

zoro puffs his chest with pride, relishing in this one niche study of which he is now an expert. it’s incredibly endearing how pleased he is with his answer and you almost feel bad for correcting him.

almost.

“good answer,” you grin. “but you left out the little detail about how she was kept in hell against her will.”

zoro gasps, “are you accusing my idol of being a kidnapper?”

“your idol!” your cheeks already hurt so much from smiling but another giggle slips out. “first of all, these aren’t my accusations. historians have told their love story this way for years—”

“slander is what this is.”

“—and secondly, why would you want to look up to hades? he’s literally the antagonist in every story.”

“he’s the king of hell! that’s so bad ass.” zoro winks at you, “don’t be surprised if you hear them calling me ‘zoro, king of hell’ some day.”

“what’s wrong, demon of east blue doesn’t go hard enough for you?”

embarrassment rushes to zoro’s face and he’s never been more grateful for the night. “who told you that? was it usopp or nami? i bet it was nami.”

“i might hold a grudge but i don’t snitch,” you flash a mischievous smile. “anyway, let’s get back to how you want to be just like devil who tricked a poor girl in returning to the underworld.”

“come on, can you blame a man for doing whatever it takes to stop his beloved from leaving him?”

it sounds like an innocent question — harmless banter, really — but something in the way he says it makes you stop dead in your tracks. a silence falls and in its wake, all you can do is stare at the man you’ve spent the last several months with, the same man that you have to say goodbye to tomorrow.

moonlight falls unto the both of you and bathes zoro in soft light. it illuminates his eyes and when you meet his gaze, you see a sense of longing there that you feel in your chest. a longing for what, you don’t know — or rather, you don’t want to know.

at least, not yet.

so you hold his hand a little tighter, and underneath the watchful eye of the gods and constellations, muster a smile,

“i guess not.”

6:00 am

if this was any other morning, zoro would be awake and working out already. he'd be done his fourth set of bicep curls or, at the very least, working on his form. he could even be in the middle of deadlifts (because he knows not to skip leg day), but he definitely wouldn't still be in bed the way that he is right now.

the thing is though, if this was any other morning, he wouldn't have you sleeping next to him, curled into him like you were made to be a perfect fit.

he's never been more glad to still be in bed.

your breath matches the rise and fall of zoro's chest, perfectly in rhythm with the waves outside his window and the beat of his heart, like the universe meant for all these things to be in harmony at this one singular moment in time.

your lashes flutter in response when he shifts his weight.

he takes a peek at you, “psst, are you awake?”

eyes still closed, you manage a noncommittal grunt but your body says otherwise.

zoro can’t help but smile as he watches you start to wake up. your toes wiggle beneath the covers and you rub your eyes before looking up at him with an adorably sleepy look that he would love to wake up to every day. 

if only he could.

you focus your gaze on zoro like he’s an anchor in a sea of slumber. the way that you look at him, as if he’s the only thing that you see, fills his chest with a golden warmth akin to the breaking dawn.

you offer him a soft smile, and zoro wonders if the sun knows that you glow brighter than it ever could.

“why are you up at this ungodly hour?”

he chuckles, low and tender, “’m used to it. i’m usually up by now.”

“freak,” you mutter. zoro laughs, and you can’t think of anything else that sounds more beautiful at six in the morning.

you’re not usually up this early but what you notice is that, at dawn, time has a habit of moving slowly. it’s as if the morning casts magic upon those who rise with the daylight — and you’re so thankful for that.

because if time moved any faster than this, you’d have to say goodbye that much sooner.

“are you going to miss us?” zoro puts his arms around you.

you murmur into his chest, “of course, i will.”

“who do you think you’ll miss the most?” 

you give pause and zoro’s almost certain you can hear his heart beating a little louder — he can definitely hear it. he doesn’t typically get nervous like this but, then again, nothing about the way you make him feel is typical.

you seem to have come to a conclusion because you look up at zoro and he holds his breath. 

“sanji.”

he blinks.

“wait, are you serious?”

you’ve never seen zoro looks so wonderfully scandalized before, and you burst into a fit of giggles. as soon as you start, he knows he’s been had. he scowls but only for a moment; for who could be upset in the presence of such twinkling laughter?

 “silly man,” you snuggle closer, "of course i’m not serious.”

“okay, good.” you can hear the smile in his voice. “i don’t know if my ego could handle losing to him.”

zoro holds you close, his thumb tracing circles on your skin. his movements are slow, steady, comforting — ‘round and ‘round, in the same spot, like he’s drawing an invisible mark that is only known to the two of you.

"but, you know,” you hum, careful not to disrupt the peace. “you wouldn’t.”

“wouldn’t what?”

“lose.” and after a beat, you quietly add, “you wouldn’t lose to anyone.”

and just like that, zoro’s on cloud nine, airborne and weightless. he’s always known that he has a place in your heart, but this is the first time that you’ve ever hinted about where that place may be. if he allowed himself to be hopeful, it almost sounds like a confession. 

but almost isn’t good enough for him. zoro wants more — wants to find out exactly where he belongs in your life, wants to know if he can make himself at home there. 

it’s a shame that he’s out of time.

you interrupt his thoughts with a whisper, barely audible above the sound of the ocean and his aching heart,

“will you miss me?” 

more than anything.

9:00 am

surely, zoro’s dream to be hades has been granted. otherwise, why would it feel like he’s in hell, standing on the deck, all alone and watching your dinghy sail away from the thousand sunny?

zoro’s had his fair shares of farewells while aboard the ship, and to be honest, yours wasn’t any more emotional than anyone else’s. you left with a smile as beautiful as the morning sun and with far less tears than he expected (which he’s thankful for because he would hate to see you cry). as far as bittersweet goodbyes go, yours was definitely more sweet than bitter.

and yet, here zoro stands, with a bad taste in his mouth that he can’t explain. he can still see you from where he stands, and watching your little boat in the distance is the only thing that seems to settle his uneasy heart. 

should he have bid adieu privately? maybe he should’ve left you with a memento of some kind? should he have done more than offer you a quick hug? was it his imagination, or did you hold onto him just a beat longer than you needed to?

zoro’s so occupied by these messy thoughts that he doesn’t even hear sanji approach him.

“well?”

startled, zoro can only stare at the blond cook. ignoring the dumb look on his face, sanji continues.

“what’d she say when you told her?” sanji nods in the direction of your boat.

“told her what?”

“that you love her,” sanji takes a drag of his cigarette, looking at zoro directly now.

he speaks so frankly, so matter-of-fact and candidly, that it takes zoro a second to really register what it is that he’s saying. 

he loves you.

and as soon as he thinks it, the truth comes barreling through all the doubts clouding his head. clarity floods his chest as he comes face-to-face with what his yearning, pining heart has been trying to tell him this whole time.

he loves you. he loves you. he loves you. he loves you. he loves you-

fuck.

he loves you.

and he never told you.

epilogue — 9:30 am

sails closed, your boat floats with the current and the salty breeze reminds you that your adventure with the strawhats has come to a close. compared to the never-ending bustle of the crew, it’s almost too quiet being at sea alone. the silence lends itself to your overactive mind, working full time to unravel the tightness you feel in your chest.

you’re lost in thoughts of what could’ve, should’ve, and would’ve been — so much so that you don’t even hear the commotion behind you. it’s not until you hear zoro call your name that you hear the frantic swimming and you whirl around.

“zoro! what-”

“can you help me first?” he splutters.

you pull yourself together long enough to run to the side of your dinghy, pulling a sopping wet pirate on board. zoro leans back, trying to catch his breath as you rummage through your things.

“are you crazy? do you know how far we are from the sunny?” you throw a towel over him before reaching for another. you start drying off his hair, frantically fussing over him.

“you think that just because chopper gives you the clearance that you can push yourself over the limit-”

“y/n.”

“this is why you’re always on house arrest! you’re actually insane, you know that?”

“y/n.”

“i know you work out, but for goodness’ sake, zoro, you’re only human-”

“y/n.” zoro holds your wrists, forcing you to stop with a start.

in all your worrying, you didn’t realize that you’d been gravitating closer to zoro until you’re staring into his dark, obsidian eyes. there’s clarity in the way that he looks at you. his eyes are shining with a fierceness that you’ve only seen in his worst fights, and you brace yourself for whatever comes next.

because you know that this will change everything.

“hades and persephone.”

“huh?“ you blink at him. “did you hit your head-”

“ask me if i think hades loved persephone.”

you stare into zoro’s eyes, desperation reflecting back at you. there’s a hidden question there and you understand immediately.

quietly, you ask, "do you think hades loved persephone?”

“i do,” he whispers. “i think he loved her and he would've been stupid to let her go.”

your breath catches. zoro places a hand over yours, surprisingly warm as his fingers find their home between your own.

the heavens watch on as the two of you finally open your hearts and give way to the stuff that myths and legends yearn for — a connection that can only be described as fated, destined, purely and resplendently magical.

the gods smile at the two lovers who find themselves falling into each other, laughing as you confess, over and over again,

i love you.

[slut4thebroken]

Promise

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Neil Lewis x reader

Summary | He’s a perv and lowkey a bad friend lol

Warnings | Smut, technically non con, masturbating, objectification, degradation, misogyny?, perv neil (again).

Words | 1.5 k

Notes | Ty to whoever sent the ask for this 🙌 Also this is barely proofread btw

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Give me a sec, I need to finish getting dressed.” You said, with only your head in the frame. Your hair was still wet so you must have just gotten out of the shower. He smiled and watched your head disappear, listening to the sound of clothes rustling until you were finally sitting down in front of your computer. “Hi.” You said through a breath of exertion from rushing to get dressed. 

“Hi.” He chuckled, but it trailed off when he noticed your top. You were wearing a very tight, very low cut tank top and no bra— He knew because he could just barely see your nipples poking through the fabric. 

“How was your day?” You asked and he had to force his gaze to move back to your face, finding a small smile on your lips. 

“Same as always. Went to work, came home. Nothing new.” He shrugged. “What about you? You were telling me about something earlier over text,”

“Right..” You groaned, already getting annoyed again at just the reminder of it. “You know that one coworker I hate?” 

“Yeah.” He chuckled quietly. 

“Well, she was there today.” You said bitterly, then started droning on about what happened. Honestly, he couldn’t listen to a word you were saying. He was watching your tits through the screen as his cock started fattening up in his pants— In his defense though… he hasn’t touched himself in like.. two days. So it’s only natural he’d get worked up so easily— especially because it’s you. He palmed his bulge beneath the camera, being careful not to move his arm too much. 

He waited as long as he could… Honestly, he did. 

“Hang on, I gotta turn my camera off really quick. I’m still listening though.”

“Okay.” You said, thinking nothing of it. He turned the camera off and you continued talking, gesturing with your hands, making your tits move in a way that had his mouth watering. Unable to wait any longer, he pushed his pants and underwear down just enough to free his cock and immediately started stroking it. His eyes fluttered shut and he bit his lip to stifle a moan as his head fell back. 

He was barely listening to your words, just wanting to hear your sweet voice and imagine you were saying something else instead… something far dirtier. Wanting to watch you again, he leaned his head back up and opened his eyes to study your face. Your lips looked so pink and pouty, and so fucking kissable— it drove him crazy. 

“Neil..” You called out, snapping him out of his trance. 

“Yeah?” He cleared his throat when he heard how raspy it already was. 

“I asked if you were listening.” You giggled— fucking giggled. 

“Sorry… I promise I am now.” It was so hard to talk with his cock in his hand, throbbing with need. 

“Why can’t you turn your camera on?” You suddenly asked, making him freeze. He never thought you’d actually confront him about it…

“I- Uh… I spilled soda all over myself and I’m still trying to clean it up, while being mostly nude… I can turn it back on if you want.” He said suggestively. 

“Okay okay, sorry.” You laughed, then continued talking. “Oh- I wanted to show you what I got the other day. It reminded me of you.” You smiled and then stood up, making his jaw drop. The tank top didn’t even reach your belly button and the shorts you were wearing rested low on your hips. 

When you turned around, he choked on a moan and squeezed the base of his cock, trying not to come right then and there. No wonder the shorts were so low… If you pulled them up any higher, they’d expose more than just the very bottom of your ass. You must not have heard him because you walked a few more steps to your bookcase, then started looking for the mystery object. His hand had a mind of its own and started stroking again as he watched your hips sway while you looked through different drawers and shelves. 

You bent down to look through the bottom half, sticking your ass out as if you were teasing him on purpose. He cursed under his breath when he could just barely see the outline of your pussy in the skin tight shorts. When you leaned back up, the fabric was even higher up on your ass now and when you turned around to walk back to the computer, he saw that your tank top shifted as well, exposing more of your cleavage and the swell of your breasts. They jiggled as you sat back down in the chair.  

“Are you sure you’re listening?” He suddenly heard through the trance he was in.  

“Mhm.. just keep talking. Promise I’m listening.” He tried not to say the words through a moan. 

“Okay…” You said skeptically, but continued anyway. He was enjoying the view of your tits, but he desperately wanted to see your ass again, so he bit his lip and tried to think of a way to get you out of the chair again. 

He waited until you were done talking before asking, “Is that thing up there new?” Your brows furrowed and you turned around to see what he was talking about. 

“The figurine thing? I guess yeah. You haven’t been over in a while.” 

“Can I see it?” You smiled and agreed and he watched you stand up and turn around, only letting you take two steps before stopping you. “Wait,” You froze and turned back around, leaning down into the frame so he could see your face. 

“What?” The way you were bent over exposed even more of your tits and he stifled a groan at the sight. 

“Nevermind, sorry.” He chuckled, playing it off. You seemed suspicious but eventually leaned back up and turned around to continue walking. You got up on your toes and reached up, making your tank top raise even more, now showing your entire lower back. He imagined seeing that when he had you bent over instead, squirming and moaning under him until he came on the cute little dimples you have. 

“I used a stool to get it up here.” You laughed, dropping your heels, making your ass bounce, and twisting around to face the computer. 

“It looks like you’re almost there.” 

“Really?” You turned back around and looked up, then started reaching again, making little groans of effort that had his cock throbbing. 

“Try jumping.” 

“Neil, do you have to see it?” You huffed, already getting tired of this. “Can’t you just wait until the next time you come over?” 

“But I want to see it now.” He made sure to make his pout show in his tone since you couldn’t see his face. You let out a loud, exaggerated groan in response, but kept trying. The first time you jumped, your fingers almost brushed it. He watched in awe and cursed under his breath at the way your ass moved when you landed. Is that how it would move when he plowed into you from behind? 

You jumped again, just barely touching it. When you landed, you pulled your top down, embarrassed by how much of your midriff was showing. Neil muted his computer for a moment, needing to let out the sounds while you couldn’t see that he turned his sound off. 

The tip of his cock was completely red now, pulsing and twitching in his hand as he neared his orgasm. He moaned loudly when you jumped again and his hips bucked up into his hand. 

“Fuuuck..” He groaned, tilting his head back, but not too far so that he could still see the screen. When you jumped again, you finally grabbed it and he turned the audio back on as you walked over. Just before sitting, you pulled your tank top down again when you noticed how much of your stomach was showing. You didn’t seem to mind that the added coverage on your stomach was at the expense of the coverage on your tits. Or you just didn’t know. 

You started talking about the figurine and where you got it, and he let out little uh huh’s or grunts in response. He genuinely had no idea what you were saying, but there wasn’t even a small part of him that cared. You put it down and suddenly stretched your arms up, leaning back in the chair to stretch your back with a low moan. 

He felt his balls tighten up instantly and he got to his feet, knowing exactly what he wanted to do. He rapidly fisted his cock as you leaned back up, your top even lower now. With a stifled groan, his orgasm finally crashed over him. Rope after rope of come painted the computer screen, right on your tits. 

“Neil?” You asked, but he couldn’t talk, not when his body was literally shaking from the intensity of the pleasure. “Are you okay?” He started panting quietly as he stroked the last bead of come out, then released his cock. 

“Yeah.” He said through a breath, flopping back down onto the chair. His cock was still twitching with the aftershocks of his orgasm, especially when he saw your come covered tits though the screen. 

“Are you sure?” You were so cute when you got all concerned like this. So cute, but so dumb. 

“Promise.” 

Taglist (join here)

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[mitsuyaya]

[ gitchee gitchee goo ] itoshi rin

♡ contains: 401 words. fluff, just rin being stupidly cute

♡ summary: rin finds it hard to say I love you, so he says nonsense instead.

listen :) | triple treat masterlist

rin doesn't tell you the words ‘I love you’

it's not that he doesn't want to; it's just that he can't do it. and it's not because he doesn't love you–oh no, it's quite the opposite, actually.

rin loves you too much that he couldn't choke out the syllables, couldn't say those words directly, out loud. embarrassment floods his system before he could even say it to you. it doesn't matter how many times he practices those lines, it always turns out robotic, it's frustrating for him really.

he thinks it's because you look at him with those eyes—those angelic, mesmerizing eyes. it makes him feel small and frail, makes him feel like half the man he is. that's why every time he stares at your eyes his tongue goes numb, can't pronounce anything right, as if he forgets how to speak, as if his vocabulary had mysteriously disappeared.

rin also thinks it's because of your lips, so kissable. that whenever his gaze lands on them, it's like there's this strange feeling in his chest—sparks that crackle beneath his skin, tempting him to feel it against his own.

but mostly, rin blames it on your pretty face. whenever he looks at you, at your winsome appearance, it sends cartwheels in his stomach. makes him want to curl into your side and wrap his arms around you; it makes him momentarily forget that he's in public so he has to keep up his cold and serious image.

so instead of saying those three loving words, he murmurs obscure confessions instead—something that would make anyone raise their eyebrows on, but for you, you understand it so easily.

you knew it all too well, so when he winds his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer as you both dance in sync with the slow love song playing in the background, he would whisper it in your ears.

then you'll smile at him, at his serious yet adoring gaze, place a chaste kiss on his lips and say “I love you too rin.”

and despite him being teased as an ‘unromantic and cold boyfriend’ by your friends, his teammates and a bunch of people online, you know that by the time the moon peaks, the surroundings began to dim, when he feels like you're in deep slumber—he’ll say those words confidently, a lovesick grin plastered on his face.

“I love you so much angel.”

[doki-doki-imagines]

You know that Michael is handsome, you have known it since the first time you side-eyed him during a party you would have rather not partecipated in. You also know how much he cares about his beauty routine, the amount of creams and serum he puts to make his skin smooth and shiny, and so always perfect. You also know it is mostly a coping mechanism, a way to protect himself from that blue monster that never let an occasion slide to put him down and make him feel inferior. But you have never seen him style his hair, tiyed up and what is a bun. His face is exposed so beautifully, some blue strands of hair escaped, but they only add to his overall charm. Your mind wanders, the desire to untie his blonde hair, fingers slipping and massaging his sore scalp; would he pur under your ministration? Maybe he would after biting his neck, the red bruise staining his porcelain skin, just a bit under his hairline. "What are you looking at?" You can feel the teasing undertone in his voice. He perfectly knows what you are thinking of. "That your lips look kissable right now." He raises his eyebrows, droplets of sweat running down his forehead. "Come here then." You didn't need telling twice, your lips locking with his without wasting a second. Your left hand grips his shoulder, while the right one sneaks behind his head, up and up... "Knew you were observing the bun." Michael smiles into the kiss. You don't care about his comment, you have him exactly where you want him, in between your arms, bun at hand-reach. The hair-tie snaps back, his hair finally free from its vice, Michael moans into the kiss, and this time, it's your turn to smile. He pulls you closer, and you feel your bodies melting into each other. You hope he'll tie his hair in a bun more often from now on.

[deans-queen]

Love Or Die 💜🔪

Mini Series

Paring: Dean Winchester x Female Reader (Y/N) -> story will be told mostly in Reader’s P.O.V.

Plot: Reader (Y/N) can’t stand Dean Winchester and everything about him,  but she has a secret and that is:  she’s madly in love with him. 

Inspired by the song: Can’t Hold On Forever by Laura Marano 

Part 1 - Reader’s P.O.V.

Warning: Language

I have been hunting since I was 18 (I’m 25 now) but I’ve never worked with anyone as cocky, annoying and arrogant as Dean Winchester. I started hunting with him, his younger brother Sam and my Uncle /Godfather Bobby Singer since my parents died. Uncle Bobby has been looking after me the past year and I couldn’t be more grateful. He’s always been like a father figure to me. But Dean on the other hand….was a huge pain in the ass. I couldn’t stand him, and I made it pretty well known. But… I had a secret. A secret that no one knows. I'm also unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him. It all started last month, when he saved me from getting kidnapped by a witch that wanted to suck the life out of me to make her more youthful. He was so brave and took care of me, like a knight in shining armor. Since then I’ve had to hide how I felt….It wasn’t too hard to act like I didn’t have feelings, but it was at the same time. Under all that arrogance and self-confidence, he was so damn hot. He was tall, muscular (not like a body builder but his body was toned) and had short brown hair. He had a jawline so sharp and perfect that it could cut you in half. His hands were strong but also calloused, I imagined the way they would feel on my body. His lips were perfect. Looking soft, plump and kissable at the same time. I wanted to kiss them so damn much. And to top it off….he had the most amazing, perfect smile and GORGEOUS emerald green eyes. When I looked into them, I could melt like a popsicle on the 4th of July. There were days when he would be casually walking around, acting nonchalantly and I would find myself staring at him. I would snap out of it when he would say “Take a picture, sweetheart it’ll last longer.” Then I would have to fire back a snarky remark like, “In your dreams, Winchester.” And I’d roll my eyes. On the inside I was screaming, I don’t know how much longer I could keep this up.

The Next Day

We were working on a case, with a bunch of ghosts haunting this old abandoned New Orleans type esque mansion. This group of teenagers heard about it being haunted and wanted to check it out. And of course one of the girls winds up murdered. Her name was Jessica. What a bunch of idiots. Don’t they know it’s frowned upon to mess with haunted places. Anyways…while Sam and Uncle Bobby stayed behind to do research on the house, Dean and I went downtown to the police station to interview the teenagers. One of the things I loved about being a hunter was dressing up as an undercover FBI Agent. I always wore a black pencil skirt, with a white buttoned up blouse and heels. It made me feel like a bad bitch. Dean was wearing a suit and tie, which he looked so handsome in. Once we got there, the boyfriend of the girl who was killed was in an interview room. As we walked into the room, I noticed this kid was drooling over me, which Dean noticed. “Mr. Montgomery, I’m Agent Smith and this is my partner Agent Parker.” Dean said firmly while we both flashed our badges. “Alright, Mr…” I said while taking a seat at the table, trying to sound professional. Dean took a seat next to me. “Mike, you can call me Mike.” He said, interrupting and winking at me. “Okay, Mike.” I said, clearing my throat. “Why’d you go down to that haunted house?” “Look, I already talked to the cops about this. Why is the FBI questioning me now?” “We’re just doing our job Mike,” I said. “Now please, tell us what happened.” “Jess, my friends and I heard the stories about the house being haunted and we wanted to see if it was true.” He explained that when they walked through the house, they could feel the cold air around them. They heard strange noises, silent whispers, and objects flying out of nowhere. Warning them to stay away. “And don’t you think going in that house was a stupid idea?!” Dean said, shouting at him. I mean he wasn’t wrong, it was a very stupid idea. “Well - I - uh…” he said, stuttering. Dean was making him so nervous that his palms were clammy and sweat was beaming on his forehead. Mike finally looked at me and said, “I didn’t think anyone was gonna get hurt! Especially Jess.” He said. “Too little too late for that one buddy.” I said while crossing my arms. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean for this to happen. I thought it was stupid and all a joke!” He shouted “If I could take it all back I could.” He said softly, putting his hands in his face. I sighed and looked at him. I was in his shoes once. I used to believe that all this supernatural stuff was a joke, but then my parents explained to me that it’s all real. The ghosts, monsters, everything. I got up and put my hand on his shoulder, I could tell that he was being sincere. “Listen, Mike I know it’s hard not to believe this stuff, but believe me when I say this: it’s all real. And uh, I know how hard it is to lose someone you care about. It can be tough but you’ll get through it, I promise.” “Thanks Agent.” He said while flashing a smile at me. Dean cleared his throat and I removed my hand. “Okay well that’s it for today.” Dean said, and he handed out a business card to Mike. “Call us if you find anything else.” And then he rushed out of the room. “Bye,” Mike said quietly. I gave him a small smile and a quick wave before heading out the door. “What the hell was that Dean?” I said sternly while catching up to him as he walked towards the Impala. “That kid was totally giving you googly eyes, Y/N” he said, climbing in and slamming the door. Is he for real right now? “And why does it matter if he was, it’s not like I can do anything with him. He’s a teenager.” I said, going into the passenger seat. He started the engine and drove off. “It doesn’t matter. He’s 17, probably thinks more with his dick more than his mind.” “Oh and like you don’t either Dean??” I said. He looked at me coldly, gripping his hands on the steering wheel. He continued to drive down the road. “Are you jealous??” “Uhhh no, no no no.” He said, shaking his head. “Whatever Winchester.” I said, looking away from him.

And we continued our drive back to Uncle Bobby’s house in silence.

Authors Note:

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[chimielie]

wonderland

summary: didn’t they tell us ‘don’t rush into things?’ didn’t you flash your green eyes at me? haven’t you heard what becomes of curious minds? (or: what happens after graduation to a pair of teenagers in love)

word count: 1k

cw: irresponsible decision making (but i assure you there will be no consequences), The Teenage Need To Get The Fuck Out Of Your Hometown, mountains of fluff, my usual Thing iykyk, excessive 1989-related puns

hajime’s never considered himself an impulsive person.

sure, he’s: headstrong, audacious, hotheaded. but he almost always has oikawa spearheading his more reckless decisions with wild emotional situations, a shield that makes him look like a calm, responsible adult. oikawa could make almost anyone look sane.

hajime is pretty sure even oikawa would call him crazy right now, if oikawa weren’t in argentina. maybe, for all his turbulent nature, his friend really is some grounding force; since he’s been gone, hajime’s felt on the precipice of something… big. earth-shattering.

“i just can’t stand it,” you say, head lolled back onto his shoulder, spine curving into his chest. hajime is trying valiantly to ignore the soft weight of your ass on his lap, even though you’re mostly sitting between his applesauce-crossed legs. he can feel it, though, against his right thigh. he is failing miserably. “it feels like everyone’s moving and i’m… stuck.”

“stuck,” he echoes, and you roll your head so you’re looking right, out of his bedroom window at the familiar landscape of miyagi. the sun is close to setting, having burned through the daytime clouds and casting a brilliant glow over you. your lips look darker and fuller and more kissable in this light, he’d thought earlier, right before he’d kissed them bruised.

“more like a balloon,” you muse. “on a still day. just drifting up, and up, and up, and the birds are just flying by.”

he hums, deep in his chest, in agreement. something’s felt wrong ever since graduation. you and he had stayed, and it had been what you both wanted at first.

but not like this.

miyagi without oikawa, without makki, who was rooming with mattsun in the city while the latter earned his junior degree and the former chased youtube fame, wasn’t what he’d thought it would be at all.

“it’s gonna be all ours,” you’d promised him, graduation cap tilted jauntily and smile brighter than the pure white clouds drifting above. “you’re all i need, hajime.”

but miyagi without the people you’d grown up with was empty, a melody that only echoed memories. it was you and him—and the ghosts of your childhoods.

“you’re not happy here,” he says. not a question.

you twist to look at him, eyes open wide. “i’m happy with you. i didn’t mean—”

“i know,” he says, kissing your pursed, worried mouth. “but we’re not happy here. i feel it too. maybe i’m crazy, but i think we need—”

“change!” you’re sitting straighter in his lap now. “every day is the same. i’m starting to feel like i need to do something insane. i need enrichment in my enclosure.”

he puts his arms around you and you draw yourself tighter into him until you’re cheek to cheek.

“do you trust me?” he says. you snort.

“what is this, haji, aladdin?”

“yes,” he says, rolling his eyes. in this light, they’re a forest, green and deep and irresistibly inviting to you. “do you trust me, princess?”

you nod, and he feels it against him, your skin rasping together. “of course. take me to wonderland.”

“that’s corny, too,” hajime grumbles. “don’t criticize my romantic gestures then reference the wrong movie.”

“whatever,” you brush him off. “how much do we need to pack?”

that’s how the sun sets on your last night in miyagi.

hayakawa tomoka’s job at the ticket counter is so boring. she sits there all night—during the day, she studies fine art—, a magazine propped up in front of her, arching high brows at anyone who hadn’t had the forethought to buy tickets online.

she does so now at the young couple skidding to a stop in front of her, suitcases bulging even if there’s only one each, panting for breath and knocking shoulders as though even their bodies are on a gravitational course to each other. they can’t be more than twenty.

“when’s your next flight to california?” one asks, his straight hair sticking up like a hedgehog.

“…where in california?” hayakawa asks, pointing her mouth at them. “it’s a big state.”

“anywhere,” the other says. “we’ll find our way to where we need to be.”

hayakawa blinks slowly at them. these new romantics are too exhausting to deal with at this hour. she types, click-click-click, wrinkling her forehead at the blue glow of her computer.

you stare anxiously at her as she does, desperately hoping for anything in the next day.

hajime tugs you into him as you wait, and you relax, turning a closed-eye smile up at him while he looks down on you with a mirrored expression.

“too impulsive for you yet?” he says, mouth twisting wryly. you shake your head.

“there’s one to santa ana,” hayakawa says. “the south. in five hours.”

“perfect,” you say eagerly.

“thank you,” hajime says.

there are two seats free next to each other, serendipitously. ticket prices are exorbitant, but not bank-breaking—both of you had worked all of high school at the café next door, earning good tips and waiting for something worth spending it on.

“okay,” hayakawa says finally. “your flight’s set, mr. and mrs. iwaizumi. safe travels.”

“thank you,” you say effusively, “so much.”

“you too,” says hajime, and then turns very red.

hayakawa watches you go, a rare and soft smile gracing her features as your suitcases crash into each other even as both of you refuse to let go of the other’s hand to control their direction. the night shift is boring. something like this shakes things up.

after a race—more like a marathon—through customs, hajime finds himself shifting in a plastic seat, peering through the blackness of the night for a glimpse of airplanes landing. falling stars, sort of, magic to be wished on. you breathe evenly, deeply asleep with your head on his shoulder, his denim jacket wrapped around you, leaving him with just his hoodie and the new band of cheap jewelry around his fourth finger.

his mother would flip if she knew how rushed his wedding was. next time, he promises himself, he’ll do it again with you if you’ll keep having him and the ceremony will be beyond your wildest dreams.

it’s colder than he thought it would be in the airport. the earth is moving under his feet.

you’re all he needs; he’s gonna give you the world.

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— WHERE IS MY MIND?

SUMMARY : thinking dean is being annoying with his friendship with crowley. purposely teasing dean and leaving him wanting more, acting like nothing happened.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : nsfw(18+), the mark of cain, fluff, lots of teasing, sexy use of handcuffs and belts?, attempted anal play (fem. receiving, I thought I could, but sadly, it’s not my thing 😭)

WORD COUNT : 7.7K

A/N : title from the Pixies because that song is a vibe. inspired by BTS, doctor who, muse, coldplay, and obviously by watching this damn season lmao X

“How’s your new boyfriend?” Y/N asked, thumbing the spinning shark head on her blue pen as she stared at a newspaper. She didn’t look up at him, she didn’t have to. She could sense him, she could feel the way her skin tingled the way it always did when he was around. Like two planets, they were drawn to each other, fated by the physics of the universe to belong together, to stay close until they died and the universe became cold and empty with endless death.

Dean froze when he entered the dark library and heard her voice. He looked over at the small lamp Y/N was using to read the newspaper in the dark, the constant whirring of the pen as she twirled it sounded louder than it actually was in the quiet of the night.

“Stop that,” he grunted. She finally looked up at him and raised a brow, her eyes mostly mischievous rather than angry. He placed his duffle bag down on the table next to her scattered papers, their eyes locked on each other’s — asserting dominance.

“Stop this?” She asked, her thumb sliding along the spinning shark head so that the whir continued, and he clenched his jaw at her, his eyes narrowing at her calm face.

His eyes travelled over her beautiful face, analysing the warmth of her dilated eyes, to the blush on her cheeks, and the way her chest was rising a little faster than normal. He reached over and wrapped his fingers around hers to stop her and she blinked at him, an innocent smile tugging at her rosy lips, her eyes becoming wide like a little deer.

“Stop saying Crowley’s my lover,” he told her, his voice deep and threatening. He could read the playfulness in her eyes, the challenge as she lifted her chin just slightly, a smirk growing on her kissable lips now that she knew she had him trapped.

“Give me my pen,” she said calmly, tugging gently under his warm, thick fingers, but he only tightened his grip. She completely ignored him when he refused, turning away to read the newspaper, her hand still trying to pull out of his electric hold. “I dreamt about you and woke up dripping wet, which was nice,” she said nonchalantly, pretending to be distracted as she read the obituary of some old lady.

He blinked down at her, his fingers squeezing her hand which made her eyebrows rise, but she moved her attention to another boxed article instead of reacting. Still, a smile tugged at her lips and her breaths got quicker, like his, she noticed. “Kinda disappointing that you were too busy fucking around with Crowley to take care of that for me, had to take matters into my own... hands.”

He let go of her warm hand and she acted casually, as if she hadn’t just admitted to masturbating earlier today in their shared bed. Her pen touched the paper to circle something interesting and he growled her name softly at her irritating behaviour. She bit her lip to stop herself from laughing.

“Can I help you?” She asked, looking up at him innocently. Her eyes examined his face now, moving from his angry, creased eyebrows, to his green eyes, now clouded with lust and annoyance. Breaths were shallowly escaping from his beautiful nose, his lips were wet with his saliva and pink from biting them. She licked her own at the sight of their puffy state, and bit her lip at his stubble, remembering the tickle of the coarse little hairs of his jaw between her thighs.

She squeezed her legs instinctively when her cunt began to feel the echoes of pleasure from his tongue. Her eyes fluttered back up to his and she smiled sweetly, leaning forward to catch his lips in a kiss quicker than he could react, then she pulled away just as he was melting into it.

“I’m gonna shower now that I know you’re safe.” She put her pen down and he stood there, speechless, watching her fold the newspaper. “You know, since you were too entertained with your new friend to call or text to let me know you’re fine, or coming home late, at least.” She neatly organised her papers and he glared at her, his face hot with arousal and frustration. “You can join me, if you’d like, unless you already did that with Crowley. too,” She stood up, taking her cardigan off the chair, and finally looked up at his locked jaw. A grin spread over her lips and she made her way past him for only a few inches before he grabbed her arm firmly to stop her.

“You’re getting on my nerves,” he told her, his hot voice thick with desire and irritation. She turned around to face him and narrowed her eyes at him despite the warmth that pooled between her legs.

“You’re getting on mine,” she whispered, weakly tugging away from him. He grasped her tighter, then pulled her forward until she was pressed against his firm and warm body.

“Sit. Down,” he whispered harshly. When she didn’t listen, he manhandled her until she was turned around, and kicked the chair out with his foot for her to sit in. “Sit.”

She huffed out a defiant breath, pulling her arm out of his grip, “No.”

“Have it your way,” he growled, taking cuffs with etchings on it out of his black jacket. She looked at his face, incredulous as he took her forearm in his large hand to slap one cuff around her wrist and the other to the chair. “Sit,” he ordered, snatching the cardigan from her to drop over his duffle bag. When she didn’t listen, he gripped her shoulder tightly and he pushed her down until she plopped down on the wooden chair. She pouted at the cuffs and then glared up at him.

“You know, I can easily get out of these,” she informed him, tugging halfheartedly at the cold metal that bound her to the chair.

“So why don’t you?” He smirked, his hand gently wrapping around her throat. She instinctively circled his wrist with her free hand and he moved his to grasp the soft locks at her nape instead.

“I like this chair,” she shrugged, letting him pull her hair to force her head to tip back. He hummed softly, smirking when she hissed at the slight sting in her scalp, leaning forward to peck her lips once. He groaned softly at the spark-like feeling that covered his mouth when it immediately made contact with hers, like stardust scattering over his lips as they brushed against hers.

“Where’s Sam?” He asked softly when he let her hair go. She settled into the chair, watching him lean back to remove his jacket while biting her lip.

“Sleeping,” she replied tonelessly. She stared at his athletic body, entranced by the way he slowly slipped his indigo flannel off to be folded haphazardly over the table with his jacket. He sat on the table and grinned at her, lifting his foot between her slightly parted legs, he slowly undid the knot of his laces and then did the same to the other boot. They fell loudly on the wooden floor when he kicked them off, revealing some adorable banana socks that made her smile softly.

When she lifted her gaze up to his face, she shamelessly admired his body in the black t-shirt, the way it stretched over his chest and broad shoulders, the short sleeves exposing the muscles of his freckled arms. He was gorgeous. More importantly, he was hard. She dropped her eyes between his legs, his crotch practically right in front of her, and she cocked an eyebrow at the tent in his tight jeans. God, they did wonders for his fantastic ass.

She tugged at the cuffs, wanting to free herself of them. He looked down at her wrist and then raised an eyebrow at her. “What?” He asked innocently, using one hand to undo his belt, the other moved one of her rebellious strands of hair into place. She stared at his busy hand, her eyes glittering with excitement the way they always did with his adept skill of being able to remove his belt one-handedly rather fast. She didn’t know if she wanted to squeeze her legs together or spread them apart farther for him. “You’re so quiet,” he murmured, then he slid the belt out of his jean’s loops.

“Is there something you wanna hear, Dean?” She grumbled, her free hand reaching over to palm at his cock over his jeans.

“F-fuck,” he groaned, staring down at her hand, allowing her to touch him just for a few moments. “No touching, you’ve been too annoying tonight,” he grunted. She pouted at him, squeezing his cock defiantly. He moaned, surprised. He took her wrist quickly and used his belt to tie her only freehand to the chair.

“Asshole,” she muttered under her breath.

He glared at her and she smiled at him sarcastically, tugging at his belt to test its tightness. The leather creaked with her movement and he grinned.

He unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped them, getting off the table to kick them off completely while looking at her to make sure she was not actually pissed at him. When she smiled at him distractedly, he removed his shirt and she licked her lips at the sight of his flat stomach and the v on his hips that led down to what she secretly wanted most, what was hidden beneath his black boxers. He had the tiniest waist too. Fuck, all those layers of clothes he wore didn’t do his gorgeous body any justice.

She was getting wetter and wetter by the second as she admired him like he was a worshipped sculpture in a museum, created by Michelangelo himself. Her body was slowly becoming warm like a spring sun and her heart was beating rapidly like the beat of a glorious song, excited to see him, to feel him, to get closer to him.

“Dean,” she said firmly. His cock jumped at the way she said his name and he looked at her face with his breath caught in his throat, and then his eyes dropped down to the creaking leather of his favourite belt and over to the clinking chains of the cuffs.

“Don’t you dare, sweetheart,” he warned her breathlessly.

She pursed her lips to stop herself from begging and she looked away from him, her eyes sticking to the blue journal Sam got her last Christmas. She didn’t want him to see the pleas in her eyes and she ignored him when he pulled his boxers down slowly. The creaking of leather, the small chains rattling, they gave her away, and she wanted to moan, to rub her thighs together, but she refused.

Her head snapped towards him when he pulled her chair she was sitting in closer to him. The wooden legs squeaked against the floor and she looked down to make sure no marks would be left behind. It would normally piss Dean off to see the wood ruined, but obviously, he could do what he wanted. She narrowed her eyes at him when she looked up at him.

Her gaze reluctantly flickered down to his cock. Even his dick was perfect, it was truly unfair. It stood erect, throbbing, pink, with mouth-watering beads of precum that made her insides quiver. She swallowed thickly and lifted her eyes back up to his stupid, smug face.

“I don’t like you right now,” she pouted, turning away from him.

He chuckled as he cupped her face and leaned down to kiss her. She kept her lips pressed together, refusing to kiss him back, and didn’t open up when his tongue swiped across the seam, silently asking for permission to enter.

He pulled away and contemplated her body language for a few moments. “Open up,” he told her darkly.

“No,” she pouted. He sighed dramatically, pushing himself off the table and she straightened up, squirming a little when he walked behind her. His fingertips gently brushed over her bare shoulders, the voltage of his touch igniting her skin like the neurons firing in her brain, and she shivered. He reached over for the hair band on the table that she had been playing with earlier and tied her hair into a messy ponytail.

She gripped the arms of the chair, panting a little when he stopped touching her. She could only feel the warmth of his breath against her neck, his nose ghosting along her jaw, and she licked her lips as they became dry with the air that slipped past her parted mouth. His lips brushed against her ear and she bit her lip, her spine tingling at the sensation of having him so close behind her without doing anything. She turned her face slightly to gaze at him and he forced her to look forward, his fingers harshly holding her jaw in place.

“Don’t,” his hushed voice warned.

He walked back around to face her, his eyes trailing over her body. He hummed softly as he looked at the cropped tube shirt she wore. The white, soft cotton covering her chest was convenient for easy removal down her body—like a skirt. And she was wearing a pink jean skirt. He got down on his knees and she blinked down at him, wiggling a little when his fingers undid the silver button at her waist.

“Up,” he told her, tugging the skirt down her hips and she did as she was told, this time. She lifted her hips up off the chair, letting him drag the skirt down her legs and off her completely. He left it with his jeans on the floor and started to pull down the shirt she was wearing that had a little pink heart at the centre. She was wearing a beige strapless bra underneath and he pouted at the sight of it. It made her break her stubborn and bratty character and she smiled at him with amusement.

He removed the shirt slowly, then reached behind her to unclasp the bra and he bit his lip at the sight of her round breasts, a hum of appreciation resounding in his chest. The sound made her shift a little in the chair, he noticed it, his ego absorbing the pleasure of knowing what the smallest things he did did to her.

Her beige panties were haphazardly hanging onto her hips from the amount of times he’d dragged clothes over them and the sight of them aroused him. “You like making things hard for me, don’t you?” He grabbed her knees and pushed them apart, then grabbed her hips and pulled them forward so her ass was barely on the chair.

“Not things,” she rolled her eyes, then very matter-of-factly said, “your cock.” She smiled innocently and he had to laugh. The sound made her eyes soften and she melted a little, a real smile spreading over her face like butter on warm pancakes.

“I don’t think I can keep you tied up for much longer,” he admitted, smiling lovingly at her. He looked away and hooked a finger under her panties to push them aside and look at her pussy.

“Well, sweetheart, I think I quite enjoy being tied up,” she told him offhandedly.

He hummed distractedly, “I can tell.”

He parted her wet folds with two fingers and she squirmed at the cool air of the room that hit her wetness and then his warm breath made her moan. She wanted to shut her legs out of sudden coyness, but his broad shoulders between her parted knees stopped her.

He suddenly flicked the tip of his tongue over her swollen clit and she gasped at the little spark of pleasure, her toes curling in her pink ankle boots. Her stomach fluttered and she looked down at him, catching his watchful gaze, and she blushed, her confidence slipping away as light travelling through vacuum space.

He noticed and smirked, nuzzling her thigh with his stubble, then kissing her pelvis. “Dean,” she whispered.

“Where’d my annoying, bratty, little girlfriend go?” He teased, then his mouth returned to her sex. He moved his tongue leisurely, tasting the arousal at her entrance with a moan, dragging his tongue through her folds, up to her clit, until she was panting heavily. He smirked, lazily continuing to massage the swollen little pearl before moving to her entrance again, just to taste her dripping juices. “You’re so wet,” he purred against her, his words muffled from him not moving away from her heat to speak.

“Shit,” she whispered, feeling conflicted on whether to stare at him or close her eyes with her head tipped back.

“Makes it real easy for my big cock to slip inside your tight.. hot.. needy little cunt.” She swallowed a moan, fidgeting with the discomfort of her arousal and the gradual attention he was giving her. He grabbed her ass, lifting it slightly off the chair, and thrusted his tongue into her entrance. Her breath hitched at the warmth inside her and she tightened around his tongue, struggling against the two different materials around her wrists that kept her bound to the chair.

He continued to plunge his tongue in and out of her, imitating the movement his cock made when he fucked her. She wanted to break out and pull his hair as she watched him, he looked too pretty and arrogant between her shaky legs. The sight of him looking at her through his beautiful, curled lashes while his nose nudged her clit made her whine, her face flushed and her skin sweaty from the intensity of his teasing.

He slipped his tongue inside her, pushing as deep as he could, and wiggled it inside her. “What the fuck?” She gasped, moaning out in surprise at the nice sensation. Then, she yelped when his tongue slipped out and he lapped at her asshole. No one had ever done that—and to be fair she did not have a long list of sex partners, there was only Dean in her list of people she’d had sex with, and he’d never done that before. “No!” She squealed, easily lowering her hips, then she pushed the chair away from him as he chuckled.

“You really don’t like that, huh?” He laughed and she smiled, shaking her head bashfully. “Okay, I’ll take note of that,” he murmured, then shuffled closer to her again. She slowly parted her thighs for him, her teeth digging into her lip, as he placed his mouth back on her sex. He parted her folds with two fingers and used his tongue to play with her clit, his tongue brushing between his fingers with each passive stroke of tongue, just to make her squirm again, and she giggled breathlessly.

“Dean,” she moaned. He pulled away at the sound and stood on his knees to kiss her. This time, she opened up to him readily. She didn’t care that he was smearing her arousal onto her lips, letting her taste herself on his tongue as it rolled against hers like soft waves. He dragged his two fingers down to her wet hole, slipping his middle finger inside, pushing in and out gradually. He swallowed her moan, pushing against her lips needily, until they were kissing desperately, wishing to somehow get closer.

“I’m just waiting for you to beg, angel,” he whispered against her lips. He added another finger inside her, scissoring them inside her to prepare her for his cock. His cock which ached and hardened at the feeling of her wetness trickling down his palm and knuckles.

“I don’t do that,” she whispered defiantly. He shook his head, keeping his lips close to hers, brushing like leaves on branches did to each other, their breaths tangling. She felt lightheaded with arousal and she just wanted to eat him up like a Leviathan or something. Wow, loving aggression.

“Suit yourself,” he told her quietly. He slipped his fingers out of her and stood up, using his wet fingers to stroke his painfully erect cock. He pressed his fingers against the throbbing veins of his cock, teasing himself, massaging just underneath the head of his cock, drawing out more precum from the slit. He used his thumb to gather it, then popped his finger into her mouth so she could taste him.

She felt a new wave of wetness exude from her cunt at the taste of him, her cheeks turning warmer, redder, when he cupped the back of her head and lined his cock up with her mouth. Her mouth watered and she willfully opened up for him, letting her hot mouth engulf his heavy cock.

She looked up at him, her eyes pretty, like her red lips that rimmed his cockhead. He moaned down at the sight of her, teasing himself, testing his patience as he pushed only the tip in and out of her mouth. Her tongue teased his slit, circling the frenulum, and lapping at the precum as she drooled around him.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he praised, letting go of his cock, to push more of himself into her. She sucked at him, her tongue slithering along the bottom, moving her head back and forth, she let him guide her.

He dragged his fingers down to her chest, kneading her breasts, squeezing the warm flesh in his large hand. “I bet you’re all achy and wet, you little brat,” he growled, pushing himself all the way down her throat. She choked and made a surprised sound, her teeth brushing gently against his sensitive cock to warn him.

He hissed, pinching her nipple roughly so her throat constricted around him to stop noise from coming out, and he moaned at the feeling. He chuckled at her glare, feeling her knees try to close around his legs as he stood between them. He moaned softly again, pushing in and out of her throat roughly, her throat made obscene sounds as he fucked her face, and he stopped when he felt his orgasm approaching.

Her pretty eyes were tearing up, glassy with tears, her long lashes sticking together from a few tears that were falling from his relentless throat fucking, but she didn’t mind. He brought his hand to her reddened cheek, caressing her hot face, and brushing tears away, losing himself in his lust all at once.

He mercifully unlocked the cuffs from around her wrist and he kissed her deeply. She pulled her mouth away from him and he just stared---a gasp escaping him---as she swiftly used one hand to remove his belt from her wrist. It was faster than his brain could keep up with and before he knew it, she was pushing him into the table, her hand wrapping around his cock to stroke him quickly while her other hand moved to his nape to bring his mouth down to hers again.

He moaned loudly, shamelessly throwing his head back, abandoning her mouth as his lips parted to verbalise his pleasure. “God, I wanna make you cum like this,” she told him quietly.

“I have other plans,” he moaned. Y/N bit her lip as he spoke, her eyes sparkling with love and amusement when he looked down at her. “They involve you, only you,” he whispered and then tensed up, about to cum.

He turned them around so that she could sit on the table, easily hoisting her up with his hands on the curve of her waist, forcing her to let go of his cock all at once. He breathed shakily as his cock twitched, aching and longing to spill at last, inside her or on her heated skin. He groped her sides lovingly, worshipping her body with his big hands, squeezing the fleshy parts until he felt like he could continue without cumming in five seconds.

They both breathed heavily, their skins charged with electricity and sweaty from the heat of their aroused state. She admired him quietly, the flex in his muscles from his effort to regain control and his composure. His touch took her breath away, like his gentle kisses along her fiery skin. She didn’t want to look away from him, or stop touching him either as he mouthed at her neck and bit at her collarbones. His sharp teeth dragging along with his tongue to taste her sweat and the natural flavour of her skin beneath the sheen. His plump lips suctioned at her body, leaving behind territorial marks that he licked at while she dug her nails into his strong body.

He felt weak in the knees holding her. Felt like giving into the intoxicating urge to fuck her with abandon when he heard the soft sounds she made when he touched her, when she pulled at his hair and made him grunt. When she squirmed and dropped her forehead on his shoulder, her chest rising and falling unevenly with stuttered breaths. He made his path down to her breasts. His teeth scraped at her nipples, sucking at the tight buds as she arched into him, inviting him to give her more. He moaned softly, dragging his mouth back up to her face and dropping messy kisses along her jaw until his lips were ghosting over hers.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She blinked at him, dazed with his love, her mind hazy with thoughts only of him. She held his face in her hands, confused. She didn’t stay confused much longer because he kissed her. The kiss was slow and breathy which made it even hotter. It was the way he panted against her parted lips when he pulled away—just a few millimetres, just for a millisecond, then lazily pulled her close, cupping the back of her head with one of his hands and slipped his tongue back into her mouth.

He held her waist with his other hand, pulling her closer to the edge of the table, moving himself as close as he could between her parted legs, until his hot cock was touching her warm skin. She gave him control of the kiss, melted into him as his velvety tongue swiped over hers, exploring all of her, feeling the familiar space he’d tasted many times before, until he changed the kiss again.

He pecked her lips once they’d closed up a little, and pressed firmly, like a promise. A promise that only he knew, a promise she was unaware of. She felt content, felt the worry and fear of the Mark of Cain slip from her mind when he started to undo her hair again. He was sucking on her bottom lip and tasting the ghostly remains of her favourite lip tint—rose petals—with a satisfied moan.

Once her hair was free again, he moved his hand back to his cock, and pulled away. Her mouth was red, lips swollen and gorgeous, all he wanted to do was kiss her again but he denied himself the pleasure and instead bit his lip. She moved her hands off him, placed her palms on the table and followed his gaze as he watched himself drag his leaking cock through her weeping folds.

Upon contact with her warmth, he moaned. He felt so aroused, when he towered over her, he had to place one of his hands flat on the table close to her hand to stabilise himself. She was writhing slightly, panting each time he brushed against her swollen clit, and he couldn’t even tolerate his own teasing anymore either.

He kissed her forehead like he always did, aligning the tip of his cock with her entrance and slowly pushed into her. He inspected her face to make sure she was good, groaning at the sight of pleasure that dawned on her face as he pushed in just an inch of himself. He withdrew slightly so she could adjust to the pressure and the stretch of him, then shoved in just a little more.

“Umm,” she whimpered, her hand flattening over his sweaty chest was her silent signal that she felt like she couldn’t take him. She could feel the rapid hammering of his heart against her palm and she clenched around him, eyes locking onto his to see past the madness of his lust, a tender fire that devoured everything else like a hungry beast.

He could read it all in her eyes too, her love, the way her adoring gaze blanketed over his entire soul, making him feel so loved and safe. It made his stomach flutter, made him feel like just pushing all the way in—just to feel closer to her. Instead, he brought his hand to her clit, rubbing slowly as he withdrew again and pushed back in, deeper. “You’re taking me so fucking good, baby,” he reassured her, his voice raspy and thick with lust.

The sound of him so wrecked made her shudder, temporarily closing her eyes and leaning back slightly in hopes of getting him inside her more easily. He kept his pace slow, mindful of her body, her limits, the way he always did as he pushed himself into her. He nuzzled her cheek and kissed her jaw, breathing unstably by her ear, “just a little more,” he murmured, looking away from her eyes to check that there was, in fact, just a bit more of his thick length that she had to take.

She stared at him for a few moments, studied the aroused fascination that brightened his honeydew eyes and with demure hesitation, she let herself look down too. She watched him pull out just a little, revealing how wet she left him and she gasped, a flurry of excited butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

It made him look up at her, his eyes knowing, gleaming with pride. He had her right where he wanted her, he always did. He pushed himself into her all the way, still gentle, he leaned over her a little, his arm wrapping around her waist so she’d hold onto him instead of balancing on the table, letting her adjust as he dropped kisses over her shoulders and the side of her neck. The scrape of his stubble tickled, but she found it more sexy than uncomfortable.

She wiggled beneath him, wrapping one of her arms around his neck with one hand flat on the table as she brought his mouth to hers. “I’m okay,” she murmured against his lips. He nodded and moaned softly, moving his two hands under her thighs, lifting her up slightly until she was only able to hold onto him.

He pulled his hips back and thrusted into her, feeling her arms squeeze him slightly. He cursed under his breath, twitching inside her at the feeling of her walls dragging along his cock. His pace was still slow, his breath catching as he felt the velvety ridges of her wet walls tightening around him. Only the head of his cock remained inside her and he pushed in slowly, his breaths shaky and shallow.

“Y/N,” he moaned, placing her back down when his hips were flush against hers. He gently pushed her down onto her back with a hand on her sternum. He slowly slid his hand down to her tummy, his eyes locked on hers, both of them more patient and tender than usual, but he knew the reason why as his arm ached. He lifted her feet up to the table, spreading her out more, pushing himself all the way---deeper---until he could feel her cervix if he swivelled his hips.

“Dean,” she mewled, her lips parted as she tipped her head back, her eyebrows furrowing while her eyes fluttered close. She reached out for his wrists, her hands sliding up until her hand rested over the Mark, squeezing reassuringly. He looked down at her small hand, her lavender nails creating crescent moons as she tried to reach all the way around his arm. “Please, move,” she finally begged, lifting her hips up a little to encourage him.

He admired her the whole time he started to thrust into her. His eyes stuck on her body as she jolted up the table slightly only for his hands to keep her hips planted where they were. Her breasts jiggled, abandoned and covered in small marks from his mouth and he twitched inside her, a grunt leaving his throat. Everything about her turned him on, the way they locked eyes, like a passing meteor getting pulled in by Earth’s gravity, they could only stare at each other.

He loved her so much, he didn’t want to look away. He needed her more than the air he breathed. She was everything to him. The only reason he smiled everyday, the only reason the weight of his guilt and shame didn’t crush him. It was the tenderness of her eyes like a Magellanic Cloud, the way she cut through the darkness in his life like a galaxy hurtling through space.

He, on the other hand, was a dimming and dying galaxy until she collided with him, dragging him along for the ride and perfectly melding into each other so that her stars were his, so that her planets and her suns also belonged to him, so that he could never remember or comprehend where he began or where he ended, only that he’d always find her at the end of his despair and at the start of every joy.

She brought life to him like a sun, terraforming him, blossoming his withering hopes and dreams. Her love for him grew like the universe itself, every moment expanding into the nothingness beyond, utterly unrestricted.

“Fuck, I…” he whispered brokenly. He couldn’t always bring himself to say ‘I love you’ and it frustrated him how awkward the words felt on his tongue, and it’s not like he’s never said them before. It was terrifying, especially in moments like these. It was serious and it was real. And he felt that that was exactly why he should say those words, that in moments like these it’s exactly the right moment to let them slip out. But he couldn’t. He found them easy to type, to press the button, and send it to her so she could read them.

He momentarily gave up on his admission and brought his hand down to her clit to rub quick circles. Like the final bit of pressure needed for a star to be born, the bursts of pleasure became overwhelming as she clamped down on him, drawing a growl from deep within his chest as she came. His name poured from her lips like traces of stardust and CMBR as she trembled on the table, his thumb slowly drawing out her orgasm as his warm release spurted into her.

He grunted her name mindlessly, swivelling his hips, pushing to keep his cum as deep inside her as physically possible until he was spilling out of her from how full she was. He didn’t care about what Sam would say if he walked in, he only cared about claiming her and filling her up. His soul burned with pride and fervour knowing she’d be wet and full inside for days with his cum as she walked around and worked, that her cunt and clit would be swollen from his usage for the next hours, sore from the penetration of his cock, her skin bruised by his hands and mouth, and her nipples tight from his tongue and fingers.

“Umm,” she started quietly. He snapped out of his daze, a lazy smile growing on his lips as he looked into her soft eyes, but didn’t dare to slip out of her. He lifted a hand to move a few strands of hair away from her flushed face and saw her perk up slightly. “Funny how I was annoying you earlier…” she trailed off, her fingers brushing against the Mark, relaxing him.

He hummed softly, shaking his head. “You’re not annoying,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against her cheek. She smiled at him, an adoring tenderness radiating from her features like sunlight that flustered him. “I.. I am sorry,” he whispered.

“Hmm? What for?” Her voice was quiet and curious, stunned about his second apology.

“You know.. Crowley, for not calling or texting, for everything before that if I haven’t apologised, and for everything after, just in case I’m too stupid to realise I’m wrong,” he told her, just a little bit of guilt and shame making him look away.

“Hey.” Her voice was soft, like everything else about her, and he looked up at her again when she tugged at his arms. “I’m always going to forgive you,” she informed him, then shut her eyes as if he wasn’t allowed to argue with her. She hummed softly at his thoughtful silence, her hands reaching out for his hips, pulling him into her so he’d brush her cervix again as a way to distract him.

“Sam… He, uh,” Dean paused to laugh sadly, “he gave me the talk.. the ‘don’t hurt her’ talk when you and me started.. dating, when I.. popped outta Hell,” he spoke up randomly. She remembered, it felt like just yesterday he was having nightmares of what he’d done in Hell---even now, there was still the aftermath of Hell affecting him. She lifted a brow, opening her eyes, and tilting her head like a puppy to give him her undivided attention.

Then, she smiled, images of Sam acting like the overprotective brother that Dean once played entertained her. “Oh.”

“I always knew no one could love like you do, and I wanted to.. uh, hold onto that innocence, that goodness in you, your kindness… I thought it’d wither away, but looking at you now, there’s only… more of it. I don’t know how… but you still care and love and feel so deeply.” He finally pulled out of her, biting his lip as he shamelessly watched himself slip out while his cum followed.

“What are you trying to say?” She didn’t notice what he was enthralled by, too caught up in trying to analyse his words, so he blinked away his arousal and picked up his folded shirt to clean her up.

“I don’t wanna taint that, I don’t wanna ruin it, to make you… lose that. I love you so much for it, and I have… this,” he pointed to the Mark on his arm, “so I know I won’t be.. stay good.. like you. I’ll be a demon, just evil, cold, and dark…” he trailed off, focusing on cleaning her up while feeling her eyes probing his very soul without even having to slip into the doors of his eyes.

“Don’t.. do you think… that now, as a human, you’re nothing more than that?” Her voice was quiet, like she didn’t actually want to know the answer, as if it’d break her to know the truth. She shooed his hand away as she sat up, her eyes never once straying from what she could see of his face.

“Well, yeah, I mean, that’s why Cain gave me this thing, because I was worthy or whatever,” he mumbled, busying himself by putting both their dirty clothes into the duffle bag to wash later. “Not something I should be proud of bein’ worthy of,” he muttered, putting his boxers on. She was quiet for a moment and let him dress her in his flannel as she tried to find her next words.

“He’s wrong, he doesn’t know you, not really,” she started. He caged her with his arms, his hands flat on either side of her hips and he finally looked up at her, their faces really close, but far enough for her to see his scepticism. “So, he’s seen like.. point one percent of what you are, you are so much more, Dean.” She hid her face in his neck, kissing his tattoo before she pulled away to add, “I look up to you, so.. if you love who I am, just know it’s because of you… that I am this way..”

“What?” He blinked, pulling back just to make sure he heard right, his brain incapable of retaining the meaning of her words.

“What? You really don’t know?” She asked with disbelief, a sad smile washing over her face. “That’s somewhat endearing actually,” she murmured with a somewhat sad, little laugh. She scooted forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, a little sigh drifting between her lips. “The first thing I noticed when I met you was how kind you are. How you took care of Sam.. then I found out you’ve done it all your childhood and you didn’t complain.”

“It wasn’t your job, you could’ve just.. not done it, but you did. With no reward, no thanks, nothing. You could’ve lied and ‘taken care of him’---no one was watching---but you still did it, and he had a better childhood than you. In fact, he’s turned out quite wonderful. You made him want more, made him feel worthy, valuable, which is why he went off to college.”

“You shielded him as much as you could from hunting, that for him there was actually a way out. Something you couldn’t see for yourself because you made it your job to take all the weight. Then, you took care of me and tried doing the same. And.. well, if you love who I am, thank yourself, Dean. You were like a hero to me, different from your dad, different from all the hunters I’d seen, and I thought, ‘this.. he is what I want to be, not a killer, not a thoughtless, violent, bloodthirsty, unchanging hunter---a hero’. I loved you for it back then too.”

“Then, when we were hunting together---all three of us, to look for your dad… I saw more of you.. there were the random kids you saved… how gentle you were---and still are---with them. You’ve shown mercy to monsters, to people who could be considered dangerous. You changed your mind about what hunting’s all about, you’ve evolved past killing anything that isn’t human, you’ve grown, and other hunters stick with the same ‘all monsters are killers and need to die’ motto. You’ve realised that they’re just like us too. That they can be different and.. fuck, if that’s not goodness, then I don’t know what you wanna call it.”

“You’ve done everything you’ve done—even getting this damned Mark—out of love, for the world, or for Sam, or whoever, because you’re good. I’ve seen all these billions of different, tiny, bits and pieces of you, and.. to me.. you’re.. like a whole universe, filled with light, hope, love, life, sadness, pain, grief, and you’re so fucking beautiful I’m just.. overwhelmed with how much I adore you for being who you are. I would never ask you to change.”

“And you’re still trying to save everyone. You, Sam, and even Cas might not always succeed when you try to do something you think is right or good to try to save the ones you love or the world, but the point of being a good man is that you’re even trying at all. No one sees you, no one tells you to, no one thanks you for it, you just help people because it’s right, because it’s the least you could do, above all, you do it because you’re kind, Dean.”

Silence fell over them momentarily as Dean let her words sink in. His mind worked quickly to absorb her sentiment and her love for him, and he wanted to cry. Tears of happiness and adoration stung his eyes and he blinked them away, swallowing past the tightness in his throat that made a strained whimper melt away, stopping it from making its way out.

“Y/N..”

“You don’t have to say anything, I just want you to know that, I just want you to hear the truth from someone who loves you and knows who you really are. Someone who accepts you as you are and doesn’t try to change you.. or.. act like all you are is.. bad. I see you, at your core, your very soul and your mind.. all of you… is just.. glorious. Nothing needs to be added to you or changed or removed because you’re already perfect, and anyone who doesn’t see that is a daft cow and their opinions don’t matter, obviously. You’re my everything and I love you,” she murmured, smiling playfully.

“You’re so…” He broke into a smile too, his hands landed on her hips and he pulled her closer to him, their faces inching closer. Close enough for their breaths to make them dizzy with a more tender haze of desire washing over them.

“Shh, let me.. I love you,” she whispered lazily against his lips. She kissed him deeply, both of them smiling and trying not to laugh as their lips moved together.

“You’re delirious,” he mumbled, entertained by her playfulness.

She pulled away from the kiss, her legs wrapping around his hips with her ankles locked together. She nuzzled into his neck again, finding a comfortable position and whispering, “shh, I said I love you, let’s go to sleep.”

“Not in our... bed?” He suggested with a chuckle, kissing her head.

“Oh. Right.. yes.” She pulled away, hopping off the table and fixing his shirt she was wearing. He bit his lip, claiming her waist under the open shirt with his hands. He pushed the shirt open more with his forearms to admire her nakedness.

“It’s okay, I love you.” He smiled like a dork as he kissed her forehead.

“You’re adorable when you say that,” she grinned, circling his waist with her arms. He blinked down at her, his eyes lighting up when he backtracked and remembered what had slipped from his mouth.

“I.. uh, sorry for not saying it more often,” he mumbled, still a little proud of himself for saying it at all.

“Don’t worry. It’s pretty hard for me to say it to you sometimes..” she confessed bashfully. Of course she’d understand that he had difficulty saying those words, as overdue as they were. She knew he’d found other ways to express it, everything he does for her he does out of love. At least now he knows there’s nothing he needs to overthink. She really knows him. She really sees him.

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