#sorry I'm just rambling about books now

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

fire and the thud came on my spotify shuffle while me and my sister were listening to music this afternoon, and at the end of it she turns to me and goes “who was that? the lyrics sound like the kind of thing you’d write” and honestly i think it’s one of my favourite unintentional compliments i’ve ever received

[volfoss]

Good news... French toast casserole tomorrow :3

[rapha-reads]

So I've decided to ignore sleep tonight (though it's already 6am so whatever), because several reasons I won't get into. Anyway I'm reading Prince Lestat and I am LOVING it. There is just so much lore?! So many new characters, fascinating characters?! A whole world of vampires whose stories are connected or totally not to the Coven of the Articulate?! There's just so much.

In my last post, about how I skipped quickly Blackwood Farm and Blood Canticle, I wrote that I was finding it academically fascinating to read several decades worth of an entire literature world in the span of a month only. To continue in this vein (pun intended), reading PL after having binge-read the original VC books is a deep dive into how history has sped up since the 80s.

I'm not just thinking about because I'm reading Gregory's chapter and that's what he's observing, and also because the changed world and what it means for vampire society ("the tribe", and how I adore that terminology) is the big main theme of this final trilogy. It's something I've been thinking about since TVL at least. How for how these novels pertain to the horror and the fantastic genres, they are also a mirror of the society and time during which AR was writing. And because she kept writing decade after decade, and kept observing the world around here, each new book is its own little observation about the early 80s, then late 80s, then first half of the 90s, second half of the 90s, and now we're right smack in the middle 2010s and these immortal characters are feeling the weight of this rapidly changing world.

And it makes me think of actual human beings born in the 40s or 50s, or even 60s, or my own grandfather born in 1931, and how, just like a lot of these vampires recounted in PL, they sometimes can't follow all the changes brought in the last three decades (the biggest thing is technology, intradiegetically Lestat himself saying he keeps forgetting how to use his smartphone, but extradiegetically, it's how AR writes "to go on the computer" and other phrases like that, that sounds weird to the ear of someone who's grown up with this tech). And AR was over 70yo when she wrote PL, so I'm imagining that she was also writing her own impressions of this 21st century world that she saw developing under her eyes.

And in light of all the historic events we live week after week these past handful of years only (the 2020s want to bury us), it's quite interesting to apply that way of thinking to our generation too (millenials and younger, the 80s-90s-early 00s kids). Saw a post earlier saying "do you think one day we'll get to live in precedented times", in answer to the classic "we're living in unprecedented times", and I think of how the VC are the stories of one handful of characters in a world full of other characters who are not or relatively not concerned by these big stories. And how the Coven of the Articulate is considered as legendary amongst the rest of vampiredom, while they themselves don't really realise their fame, or when they do, they reject it. And how in the actual world, there are still a huge percentage of the world population that's not concerned at all by things that here make us all go frothing at the mouth because "omg we're witnessing history". Yes, "we" are witnessing something that will appear in the history books, but it is so because we have decided to put ourselves in the narrative. So many people are not even caring a little bit about big news that seem so important to us, because their lives have other matters to care for. And it's not that they're wrong or we're wrong, it's not about that, it's mostly about how the rapid changes of the world in the 21st century has made a category of people (all ages all nationalities alike) the Main Character, concerned by the narrative and trying to control it or change it (voting, protesting, activism) while so many others are still going on about their lives as usual, maybe seeing the same things as the first category, using the same tools, but not seeing the connection between it and them (the "mavericks" as AR calls them), or others starting to realise and not knowing how to join the narrative (Antoine, Gregory), while yet others have picked up a whole other way of being part of the narrative while not being part of it (Fareed).

I don't know if that makes sense. Maybe I do need to go lay down for a couple of hours after all.

[blackvahana]

christ it hits me a lot how shit I was treated by lull and how much I thought that was normal. Lev set up a study room in my house, and... he said I can come in because I was sort of obviously asking the question without even knowing I was asking, like I wanted to ask the question but knew it'd be a no. Why did I know itd be a no? Well a study space is a serious space for actual academic and general people who do work to use, full of books and journals that both aren't my business and will be easily messed up if I touch them, and there's no reason for me to be in there anyway because I don't do work, a study is only a space for normal people and not people who mess everything up and - how do i know this? Oh I mean because lull - yeah

[quatregats]

Started rereading Midshipman and had the cursed thought that these are not too wildly different of a genre than the Railway Series (aka some offset of School Stories) and so you could definitely swap elements from either and still probably end up with a cohesive narrative

[badsalmonella]

The thing about the last “Camelot” revival is that they made so many changes, it begs the question why they just didn’t write a whole new show from scratch. You have to remember “Camelot” isn’t just based off Arthurian more it’s an adaptation of T.H. White’s “The Once & Future King” a doorstop per of a novel (it’s actually 4 different books published as one volume” that is billed as “the world’s greatest fantasy classic”. And it’s only 1 of 2 adaptations - the other being Disney’s “The Sword in the Stone”. So I can totally understand why critics and fans didn’t enjoy it at all.

I'll be honest I don't really think the changes are THAT major, like structurally it's hitting a lot of similar beats especially since they had to keep the same song story beats. Especially when you consider the show before Sorkin and Sher ever got involved at all was a constantly evolving beast (to me there's a world of difference between the movie Camelot and the 2008 Lincoln Center production that leaned more into the goofy camp aspects. Hello Morgan Le Fay who loves chocolate lol!) I've seen people argue that maybe they should have never tried to change the show with a new creative team, and while I've certainly turned the argument over in my head, I think I ultimately land on, Lerner and Lowe kept reworking it in their life time, I actually think it's kind of in the spirit of the show to keep working on it. It's actually one of my favourite things about this show, that no two versions are alike! Even when a change isn't my cup of tea I really like seeing where they take this material. I think that's what makes theater special, that you can have stuff like this where the work is never done. (Like Hadestown or Chess!) I don't think there is a "definitive version of Camelot the musical".

But with that being said, different versions means it'll cater to different tastes, I do understand that the new script has a distinctly modern, sarcastic, veryyy quippy, voice to it that is not like the original writer's style (and yeah you feel it when the original work IS included) (honestly I don't even like when they throw in jokes in the vein of "stop singing that stupid song" like it's a golden age musical. Plz.) Not to mention I think the new script mines slightly different themes out of the show and if someone doesn't like it I can't say I blame them 🤷🏻‍♀️ look I'm a Hadestown NYTW version truther so I can understand the plz don't touch my baby mindset haha

[xxgalacticambitionsxx]

ok guys so you know how there's an astro knights book, right?

well, I just so happen to have a copy that i may or may not have annotated

and on page 110, Sir Gawain states that he crash landed on the ice planet weeks ago. Which, one, how the hell did homeboy survive on only fish, two, how did nobody else rise up to the task of rescuing the princess at that point, and three, that means Elyana was with bard for weeks. poor her

It's not even specified how many weeks, just at least two

i'm not even going anywhere with this that's literally all i have to say

[pinktinselmonstrosity]

I read a while ago that you were reading 'our wives under the sea'. I've also recently finished the book and was wondering what you thought of the ending?

*Feel free to ignore this ask if you haven't finished it yet! I'm just curious ☺️*

ahh thank you for asking! i was a little disappointed with the ending, but i don't think it was bad, i just think it was different from my expectations of it

i loved the concept of the book, but i come from a background of reading more traditional science fiction and i think that was what i was expecting/hoping for from that premise. idk about you but i REALLY wanted to know what the hell was going on!! shady organisations sending marine biologists to some mysterious part of the ocean, and when they come back they're like. possessed or something and then they turn into water? or into fish or something? absolutely intriguing!!! and of course my gut reaction to that mystery was to want to see it solved, so i was a little disappointed when the ending left so many questions unanswered

BUT i do realise that that is simply not the story that armfield was intending to tell. the sci-fi/fantasy elements are just a vehicle to tell a deeper emotional story about love and grief, and to that effect it doesn't actually matter that they're not 'solved', since the central conflict of the novel is miri's inability to let go of the past/of leah, rather than the mystery of what the hell was going on in the first place

i read a book last year called the first time lauren pailing died, and it was about this girl stuck in this weird time loop where every time she died she was reborn into another version of herself, which sounded FASCINATING, but it took a similar route to our wives under the sea in that the time loop was a fairly unimportant device to tell more important stories on interpersonal/emotional themes, and the time loop/multiverse situation was never really explained or solved in any way

and i do 100% think that's a valid narrative choice!!!!! but also as a reader who loves sci-fi i think it's possible to still include those themes AND solve the mystery, and so both books left me feeling slightly unsatisfied despite being really good overall

[tearlessrain]

please help me- i used to be pretty smart but i’m having so much trouble grasping the concept of diegetic vs non-diegetic bdsm!

gfkjldghfd okay first of all I'm sorry for the confusion, if you're not finding anything on the phrase it's because I made it up and absolutely nobody but me ever uses it, but I haven't found a better way to express what I'm trying to say so I keep using it. but now you've given me an excuse to ramble on about some shit that is only relevant to me and my deeply inefficient way of talking and by god I'm going to take it.

SO. the way diegetic and non-diegetic are normally used is to talk about music and sound design in movies/tv shows. in case you aren't familiar with that concept, here's a rundown:

diegetic sound is sound that happens within the world of the movie/show and can be acknowledged by the characters, like a song playing on the stereo during a driving scene, or sung on stage in Phantom of the Opera. it's also most other sounds that happen in a movie, like the sounds of traffic in a city scene, or a thunderclap, or a marching band passing by. or one of the three stock horse sounds they use in every movie with a horse in it even though horses don't really vocalize much in real life, but that's beside the point, the horse is supposed to be actually making that noise within the movie's world and the characters can hear it whinnying.

non-diegetic sound is any sound that doesn't exist in the world of the movie/show and can't be perceived by the characters. this includes things like laugh tracks and most soundtrack music. when Duel of Fates plays in Star Wars during the lightsaber fight for dramatic effect, that's non-diegetic. it exists to the audience, but the characters don't know their fight is being backed by sick ass music and, sadly, can't hear it.

the lines can get blurry between the two, you've probably seen the film trope where the clearly non-diegetic music in the title sequence fades out to the same music, now diegetic and playing from the character's car stereo. and then there are things like Phantom of the Opera as mentioned above, where the soundtrack is also part of the plot, but Phantom of the Opera does also have segments of non-diegetic music: the Phantom probably does not have an entire orchestra and some guy with an electric guitar hiding down in his sewer just waiting for someone to break into song, but both of those show up in the songs they sing down there.

now, on to how I apply this to bdsm in fiction.

if I'm referring to diegetic bdsm what I mean is that the bdsm is acknowledged for what it is in-world. the characters themselves are roleplaying whatever scenarios their scenes involve and are operating with knowledge of real life rules/safety practices. if there's cnc depicted, it will be apparent at some point, usually right away, that both characters actually are fully consenting and it's all just a planned scene, and you'll often see on-screen negotiation and aftercare, and elements of the story may involve the kink community wherever the characters are. Love and Leashes is a great example of this, 50 Shades and Bonding are terrible examples of this, but they all feature characters that know they're doing bdsm and are intentional about it.

if I'm talking about non-diegetic bdsm, I'm referring to a story that portrays certain kinks without the direct acknowledgement that the characters are doing bdsm. this would be something like Captive Prince, or Phantom of the Opera again, or the vast majority of bodice ripper type stories where an innocent woman is kidnapped by a pirate king or something and totally doesn't want to be ravished but then it turns out he's so cool and sexy and good at ravishing that she decides she's into it and becomes his pirate consort or whatever it is that happens at the end of those books. the characters don't know they're playing out a cnc or D/s fantasy, and in-universe it's often straight up noncon or dubcon rather than cnc at all. the thing about entirely non-diegetic bdsm is that it's almost always Problematic™ in some way if you're not willing to meet the story where it's at, but as long as you're not judging it by the standards of diegetic bdsm, it's just providing the reader the same thing that a partner in a scene would: the illusion of whatever risk or taboo floats your boat, sometimes to extremes that can't be replicated in real life due to safety, practicality, physics, the law, vampires not being real, etc. it's consensual by default because it's already pretend; the characters are vehicles for the story and not actually people who can be hurt, and the reader chose to pick up the book and is aware that nothing in it is real, so it's all good.

this difference is where people tend to get hung up in the discourse, from what I've observed. which is why I started using this phrasing, because I think it's very crucial to be able to differentiate which one you're talking about if you try to have a conversation with someone about the portrayal of bdsm in media. it would also, frankly, be useful for tagging, because sometimes when you're in the mood for non-diegetic bodice ripper shit you'd call the police over in real life, it can get really annoying to read paragraphs of negotiation and check-ins that break the illusion of the scene and so on, and the opposite can be jarring too.

it's very possible to blur these together the same way Phantom of the Opera blurs its diegetic and non-diegetic music as well. this leaves you even more open to being misunderstood by people reading in bad faith, but it can also be really fun to play with. @not-poignant writes fantastic fanfic, novels, and original serials on ao3 that pull this off really well, if you're okay with some dark shit in your fiction I would highly recommend their work. some of it does get really fucking dark in places though, just like. be advised. read the tags and all that.

but yeah, spontaneous writer plug aside, that's what I mean.

[apocalypticdemon]

for all i bang on about consumerism being bad i sure do like to purchase books, huh.

[evie-sturns]

you want to? - matt sturniolo

summary: when you ask your classmate matt for a ride home after school, you find out hes a virgin, how could you not offer to change that?

contains: smut, semi-sub!matt, virgin!matt, swearing.

--------------------└── •✧• ──┘------------——-

the deafening bell rings throughout my math classroom, signalling the end of the day. i look down at my phone which reads 3:00pm, i instantly start to pack up my books more than ready to leave.

i watch the brunette boy to my left swing his bag over his shoulders, he doesn't say much but i'm pretty sure his names matt, i'm quite close with his brother nick but i've never got to know him personally.

i follow close behind him as he walks through the hallway.

we exit through the doors of the school, i decide to make my move now, needing a desperate ride home.

"uh- matt!" i call out walking up beside him, he looks over at me fixing the frame of his dark brown glasses.

"yeah?" he replies softly,

it shouldn't be wrong of me to ask for a ride, i've seen him briefly while i've been round at nicks house, and we got paired up for a group project in 9th grade where i spoke to him for a week.

"this is like- really random but do you mind giving me a ride home, i think my house is just down the street to yours and my car broke down this morning." i ramble

"oh- yeah, okay- thats fine." he says nervously "thank you so much" i let out a sigh of relief.

matt and i walk in silence to his car, his lips are red from where hes been biting them.

he opens the door for me, i jump in the passenger seat. the whole car is clean except for a camera battery and an empty mcdonald's cup.

he jumps in as well, "sorry if this is an inconvenience, i'll venmo you gas money and extra." i say.

"no- don't worry about it, it's fine." matt instantly replies.

i decide to start up a conversation, not wanting to sit in silence for the whole 20 minute ride.

"hows nick?" i ask, "hes okay, i think hes just weirded out about the whole audrey situation."

audrey is nick's best friend, who recently became hated at our school for sleeping with a whole friend group then lying to everyone and saying they made her do it.

"oh yeah!? she fucked that whole group of guys oh god." i exclaim, causing matt to tense up, his hands gripping the steering wheel tight.

"you okay? sorry- do you know audrey"

he shakes his head "i don't know her."

"oh you just went tense about the audrey fucking." i repeat, he laughs slightly, the tips of his ears go red.

"have you never had sex?" i ask, my head spinning round to look at him.

his cheeks go a deep red, he takes a hand off the wheel to rubs his eye under his glasses.

"i- yeah- no.. i dont know" he mutters, "you don't know if you've had sex?" i smile,

"i don't know- no" he says awkwardly with a grin.

"oh, thats fine!" i reply,

"you want to?" i continue, matt goes silent. i instantly regret my words, i didn't mean to make matt uncomfortable but it was just a genuine question.

"sorry." i instantly follow my words up, my tone less.. loud.

"yeah, i think i do" matt almost whispers as though he can't get any louder.

i nod my head understandingly , "you got anyone you want to loose it to, or not really?"

matt seems to grow a little more comfortable, his deathly grip on the wheel loosening

"i can't say" he laughs slightly "i mean i'm almost 18 and both my brothers won't stop yapping about their hook ups." he sighs

"do you want to.. with me?" i ask quietly, the words leaving my mouth before i can process

"but only if you want-" i instantly say after.

his head snaps round to look at me, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose slightly. "you- what" he smiles slightly, his eyebrows twisting as his cheeks flush

i stay silent, maintaining eye contact for a couple seconds.

"yeah, okay thank you" his says breathlessly, looking back to the road

"you can uh- come back to my house, nick and chris are at hockey and my parents are away for 2 weeks." matt says, trying to sound confident.

i nod, "yeah okay!"

-

3:42pm

matt pulls into his driveway, we've been having small talk for the past 5 minutes the rest of the way.

i open the door to his car, stepping out onto the concrete. i follow matt inside his house, i'm more than used to being in his house, execpt its usually with nick to hang out, not with his triplet brother to hook up.

i take his hand, he guides us upstairs into his bedroom. i lock the wooden door behind us.

"so uh, where do we start?" matt laughs nervously, reaching a hand up and scratching the side of his head.

i get on my tip-toes, grabbing his jaw and pulling him into a kiss. he hesitates for a second before kissing me back.

it quickly turns into a makeout, i push him back onto the bed before straddling him.

i grind against the fabric of his jeans, matt lets out a pathetic whimper against my lips clearly sensitive.

i pull away for a second to pull my shirt up over my head, revealing the pink lace of my bra. matt shamelessly stares at my tits, his top teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

after a solid 25 seconds of staring he pulls his navy blue crewneck off over his head, his middle part flopping on his forehead.

his breathing picks up as i unclasp my bra, letting it fall down onto his chest. i instantly feel a bulge feel underneath me, his face growing red.

i fix his glasses on his face lingering my fingers on his skin for longer than needed, "oh my god" i hear him whisper under his breath, i shift off his lap onto the floor, matt sits on the edge of the bed.

i fidget with the buckle of his belt, pulling it through the loops of his jeans before unbuttoning the button of his jeans and shimmying the fabric down his thighs.

i don't waste time to yank down his boxers, his erection springs out. matt's tip is slightly more red than his lips, now begging to be touched.

"you ready sweetheart?" i ask him, dragging my nails up and down his thighs.

"yeah- yes please." he nods, i wrap my hand around his length and pumping slowly, i look up at him and his head falls back "fuck.." he groans as i wrap my lips around his tip.

i circle my tongue just around his tip teasingly but it seems to be enough for matt already.

i slowly take more of him in my mouth, taking most of his dick down my throat.

"oh my god oh my god-" matt whimpers as i bob my head up and down,

my pace quickens everytime matt makes noise, only driving me to take more of him. i feel him twitch, meaning he's close already.

after matt bucks his hips up i pull off of him, edging him. "please" matt starts but i cut him off "don't want you to cum yet, don't wanna overstimulate you okay?"

he nods, i get up off the floor to straddle the top of his thighs again, his dick resting against my lower stomach.

"tell me what you want matt." i say, fixing his hair which rests against the glass of his glasses. "please?" matt whispers.

"please what." i tease, kneeling on either side of his legs and pulling down my shorts and panties in one tug. "ride me.." he says shyly. i smile before hovering myself above his tip, slowly sinking down onto his tip.

"oh my god" he groans, i let out a soft groan as i sink further down his length, i grab his wrists and place his ringed hands on my waist instead of him balling up the sheet.

"feels so good" he mumbles shakily, i start to bounce slowly up and down on his dick.

i let out strings of moans as his grip tightens on my waist "please please-" he whines, i start to pick up my pace.

"matt- you wanna try being on top?" i ask quickly, he hesitates before nodding his head eagerly.

he flips us over impressively easily, "grab my ankles" i tell him which he does, his two large hands grabbing my ankles and pushing them down by my ears, i nod.

he starts to thrust into me, matt's middle part flops on his head, his glasses shifting.

"fuck- 'm so close" he groans "you got it matt" i breathe out

matt pulls out, instantly releasing on my stomach as his glasses fall off, landing on my chest.

he flops down next to me on the bed panting, his arms laying across his forehead.

i scoot closer to matt's side, "you okay?" i ask, he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me closer to him, a small smile forming on his face.

"you don't understand how long i've wanted that with you." he laughs slightly, "with me?" i reply, my eyes widening slightly

"yeah- i don't know." he sits up, rubbing his eyes. i sit up next to him, grabbing his glasses off my chest and holding them up

i slide the glasses onto his face, his cheeks still flushed

"we should do this again sometime" he suggests awkwardly,

"good idea matt" i smile, pressing a quick kiss to his red lips.

---------------------------------

@luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @sonicmacks @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @sturniolo-simp4life @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @recklessmatt @ev3rgreenxtrees @lovergirl4387 @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209

[volfoss]

Every book I get closer to becoming the joker

[prael]

Touch

Kinktember Day 9: Spa

Newjeans Danielle x male reader smut

words: 7,422 Kinktember Masterlist

"My client, did you see her come in?" you ask.

"No, why? Is she famous or something?"

"Well, that would explain the secrecy, and it would also explain a woman barely twenty having cash to burn at a place like this," you whisper to the colleague who is far too jealous of how you just got requested by name because that usually means big tips for a good service.

"Did you get her name?"

"Supposed to be a secret." Your answer dissatisfies her, and she throws you a side-eye. "Okay. Okay. Danielle something... Marsh?"

"Shut up!" She hits you on the shoulder. "No fucking way. Let me take this one and you can have my next ten VIP bookings."

"Sorry, but she asked for me by name," you tell her. She mutters an obscenity under her breath. "Want to tell me what I'm getting into here?"

And then the girl spews out a jumble of ramblings about K-pop this and K-pop that—the kind of reaction that only the truly obsessed can have. Millions of views on this, charting on that, really fucking popular is the gist of it. So basically the whole planet Earth knows who this Danielle is. Well, shit. No pressure or anything. "Get in there already, do your best work and maybe get me an autograph."

A few forceful pushes out of the staff room and you find Danielle where you left her, her cleansing mask still on her face, sitting in that long white robe. You step barefoot over the soft wood, heat rising from underneath it.

As you draw near, you ask, "Miss Marsh, are we ready to begin?"

"Dani, please," her voice says from beneath the mask. It's hard not to be intimated after being hit with the fact that the woman before you is world-renowned. Though from here, she looks like any other delicate young woman. Her feet are small. Bare, tiny and arched, they hang just a few inches from the floor, and they are as perfectly still as the rest of her. "No need to be formal, I'm here to relax."

"Then let me start by offering you a drink." The bottle pops as you twist it. The label is adorned in cursive. "Bottled at source, premium mineral water." Your arm raises the bottle so she can see the brand clearly.

"Is it magical water?" There is a playful lilt in her voice, "Maybe it has some healing powers?"

"Guaranteed to nourish the soul and unclog those emotional pores," you deadpan.

The facemask stretches with Dani's wide smile, and she lightly chuckles. "That's good, laughter is good for the soul."

"Right." You pour from a height and a theatrical stream flows. When the flute is halfway, you stop the flow and pass it to her hands, which take it gently.

"What? You don't even hold the glass for me? Put it to my lips and tilt?" It's another tease, the joke stretching on her grin, but now it is her hands holding the flute, her fingers long and smooth around the stem.

"I serve, not control."

"Those don't have to always be exclusive." She laughs, and the sound makes you feel something. "But I appreciate the intention. I hear you're the best in the business."

"I'll let you be the judge, Miss Marsh. Now, allow me to remove that mask. I have raised the temperature in here to help open the pores, and I would like to begin with a facial."

"I do love a facial." Danielle smiles to herself. "And again, please, just Dani is fine."

You step over behind her, where her head tilts back against the chair, her long hair cascading below, shimmering in the moist air. Lightly, you place the tips of your fingers along her jawline, finding the edge of the mask and gently lifting it upwards. She doesn't flinch at all, and you watch the wet mask give way to her face. Even upside down, Danielle is indeed beautiful.

With her sun-kissed hair, radiant skin, and effortless, elegant beauty. She is, in summation of all her parts: perfect. The image the word calls up has always been fuzzy around the edges, an abstract idea more than a specific concrete thing, because real people aren't like this. That's what you believed until you laid eyes on her.

"You take good care of your skin, Miss—Sorry—Dani."

"Thank you," she says simply, no joke this time. Your fingers ghost over her chin and then trace to her cheekbones, moving lightly to test her texture, all so smooth.

"First, I shall cleanse away any impurities," you say and lean down to examine her face. Even when you are so close, there is nothing for your scrutiny—no visible crevice, no blemishes, despite there being not a trace of make-up. It's all-natural.

There's a light whisper on her lips, one that you barely make out, "Good luck with that."

You tilt your head as you reach over for a fresh sponge, run it under hot water until it is filled, squeeze out the excess, and slowly drag a path of heat across her forehead. As your other hand holds the sheet over her neck to catch stray water, your first-hand works in large strokes from above, rinsing her skin with each successive pass.

As you focus, she leans back into the chair, and a soft hum escapes her lips. "Feels nice already," she murmurs.

You say nothing, working her in silence. Her eyelids are closed, her lips slightly parted, and she remains so still that, if not for the sound of her breaths, she could be easily mistaken as unconscious. This silence has a tranquillity and familiarity to it, one that feels like home, and without thinking, you are smiling.

She stays just the same as you begin to exfoliate her, brushing across her face in ever-widening circles. It's with such tenderness that her cheeks take a pink tint as she grows hotter and she smiles as you rub in gentle swirls, one spot, then the next.

Time passes in silence as you finish the exfoliation and apply all manner of natural, topical lotions, toners, and peels to Dani. When her skin is primed, you press your fingers against her skin and, starting at her forehead, you massage her face to a rhythm of long, soothing strokes. You enjoy touching her, you admit, which isn't exactly right for a professional, but since you have no outward reaction from her, you assume it isn't the end of the world.

Throughout it all, she keeps her eyes shut. Over time you move around her face, applying more pressure in some spots than others. She shifts and sighs, soft exhalations of her warm breath tickling your arm, yet otherwise doesn't move an inch. Her shoulders relax against the leather of the seat. "You really know what you're doing," she says, with a smirk. You pull her skin with your fingertips, moving them in large circles as it comes to an end. Finally, you tap your fingers gently over her skin to soothe.

"Now, your body, Dani."

Her eyes crack open, but slowly. "Are we moving?"

"I'll wash your skin over there, but the massage will be in the next room. Now, I'll need you to—"

Dani doesn't let you finish your sentence before she rocks forward in her seat and pushes herself to a stand. She's facing away from you and puts her hands in front of her, then she throws the robe back off her shoulders and lets it slide off her arms to the floor in one quick motion.

"Good," she says. "I was for too hot in that thing anyway."

Of course, as a professional, you would never gasp in surprise, yet, at the sight of her ass, the muscles tight, small, and round, the curves of her waist so thin, hair over her shoulders threatening to hide her slender back and those long slim legs, you manage to just barely gulp.

Too hot, she certainly is, you want to tell her and not just in the sense that perspiration coats her skin. Tiny beads of sweat that, as your eyes crawl over her, are in the process of running downwards. This glistening on her flesh is hypnotic. The curve of her ass, the slight tilt of her hips forward, the way the base of her spine leads downward, right down to a crack between her—

Focus. You remind yourself you have a job to do.

"In the far corner. The stone pool. Please, stand by the edge." It takes a second before Dani's head bobs, and then she slinks forward, slow and catlike. Her stride, and every motion of her muscles beneath her flesh that accompanies it, are mesmerising. And with every sway of her hips, you love her tight body more.

She pauses, a foot by the edge, and looks down into the water. Steam rises and envelops her form in a pale white that hugs her curves.

"Please, step in," you say as you walk over to her side and take her hand. Now, you catch a glimpse of her profile, and her chest, small, round and perky, and as you avert your eyes to guide her down the step, you tell her, "Watch your step now, go from stone to stone until you stand in the middle just there."

"Got it," Dani says. She steps with confidence and the hot water reaches quickly above her ankles and then halfway up her calves. With each careful move down the next step she gasps, soft and light. The water splashes with her movement and then swallows her up to the upper thigh.

"Please, take a seat there, on the wide stone." You reach to help steady her as she sinks down, her knees bending as she perches down so the water is at her hips as she sits.

"I just sit?"

"Yes, Dani, and I will bathe you." You step into the pool until the hot flowing water covers your knees, and then you stand behind her. You reach for a sponge, submerge it, and watch it fill, then draw it out and over her lower back and drag a large circle across her soft skin. "How's the water? Feel okay?"

"Great. Wow." She goes quiet as you work up and down her back, long, relaxing, soothing strokes until all the tension has left her shoulders. "That's wonderful," she says.

You clean her shoulders and then down her arms, the sponge dipping under the surface, and caressing her in a movement that feels like worship. With a slow rhythm, you run the sponge over her shoulders and around her neck, and finally, reaching over her, down to her chest. She shifts back as you do, resting herself against your legs. You run it over her chest a few times before coming up again to her shoulders.

"So soft..." her voice says, almost a breathy moan, and you catch a hint of it. Maybe she realises how it sounds because she soon goes quiet. Next, you work downwards, to her tight, toned stomach. Slowly you make sure you cleanse every part of her body. All while her back rests on you and her breathing is warm and pleasant.

"Miss, I mean Dani, can you stand now? We need to get you clean." You prompt, a hand on her shoulder.

"Sure." Dani snaps out of it. She stretches and cracks her neck before rising, leaning forward for a moment. When she rises, ripples run out in all directions and your eyes drift over her ass. It looks plump, perky, perfect. Then you sponge it, giving purpose to your stare. You push it down, over her cheeks and Dani shivers.

You repeat your slow, languid movements. Wipe away any trace of imperfection from her hips and thighs and then when you make her slowly step out of the pool, you work down her bit by bit. Finally, she stands on the edge of the pool, looking down at you, towering over you in her naked glory. She presents to you her foot and you hold her ankle to steady it and clean each digit, scrubbing between the toes.

"You can take the towel, on the peg, Dani."

"You do it." Dani doesn't move at all, keeping her eyes on you, staring into your eyes and through you.

You cautiously nod and then climb from the pool. You keep eye contact and wrap the towel around her small, wet frame. In your arms, she feels so fragile. You rub her down, first her legs. Long strokes, left and right. Each, in turn, both legs. Then you bring the towel up. When you wrap it over her hip and move upwards along her torso, Dani presses herself to you.

"You really know how to put someone at ease," she mutters.

You nod silently in return, and finish drying her shoulders, down her arms, back up, and down her back. You remain stoic as the heat between you builds, and she turns around without prompting. You wrap her again and bring the towel all the way down. Then over her rear. Soft, short circular motions with your palm.

"The table in the next room, Dani. Start by lying on your front, you can use the towel on the table to cover yourself. Once I see you settled in, I'll join you."

She laughs quietly and starts her slow walk to the door. You take your own towel, drying your legs, the water has soaked into the front of your shorts from where she leant against you.

She's on the bed. The towel, provided for her decency, is in a pile on the floor.

"Dani, the towel..."

"I'm fine, I want it off. I want everything off. Is that a problem for you?" There's this undeniably confident quality to her like the universe just has to be as it is because she likes it that way.

"Not a problem," you tell her. "It does tend to get in the way."

You're close to the bed now, looking down at her, still so perfectly nude. So vulnerable and relaxed, and not a drop of shame in her eyes. She gives you a look that says she's in charge, and that she's been waiting for this, and now it's finally going to happen. And that smile is impossible to refuse. "You could join me if it helps. Make it feel more like an equal partnership."

"Miss— I—"

"I'm joking," she winks. Danielle bunches her hair by her head and turns her head to the side as she rests.

The first of your oils, imported, rich and infused, drip with a consistency thick as honey over her. You watch it roll from the top of her back and run down her spine. Its warmth makes her twitch gently.

Slowly you reach out, press your hands into her skin and drag them from top to bottom, following the oil, making sure you cover her.

She hums in delight.

With great care, you begin your work. Fingers sink in, and your thumbs feel her muscles. Stroking and rubbing, from the top of her back, your fingers coax and prod at the flesh beneath. Pressing it back and forth, at times as gentle as a summer breeze and then as hard as a hammer.

There are knots in her back, beneath the tender surface. You find them easily and work at them to relax, coax them into submission, untying the muscles until they go soft. She gasps at your touch as you release them. Her body responds to you in the sweetest ways. With the smallest of whispers, the little fluttering breaths, and with her skin taking on a pink glow.

When the last knot goes soft, she writhes in response, and a content, relaxed murmur comes out of her.

"Oh god, that's it, don't stop," she says, the first words to come from her for a while.

"You were very tight." You reach across, add a small amount of more oil and start working back upwards. One stroke at a time. Up her neck. Over her shoulders. She trembles when you go deep into her flesh and reaches out to grasp at something, anything, and finds the edge of the table, holding herself steady. Her arms now, you lift them one by one, prying them from her grip and then holding and rubbing and pulling to coax the stiffness out.

Oil over her legs, next. Slowly you run your hands over the outside and inside and rub them into her skin, kneading it into her. Danielle keeps her mouth firmly shut the whole time. No jokes. Nothing funny. You lean down to her, focusing on her thigh that refuses to let go. Bending down, you push into her. As you feel her tension drain, you are rewarded with another quiet hiss.

You place the oil upon her feet and work it into her soles with a finger, an instant trigger, she cackles as her foot recoils at your touch. "Sorry, that's a bit ticklish," she tells you, apologetically.

Her feet go still and she inhales deeply as you set back to your task, much to the quiet amusement of Danielle. It's the slowest you have ever worked on a client, with long, dragging strokes to make sure she really enjoys it. Each is careful, so careful, to pull and tease. "Keep working it all the way up, all the way up my legs," she orders, quietly. "Nice and slow. Can you do that?"

You agree.

You hear Danielle sigh as you move your hands slowly up her calf. So soft and firm at the same time as she breathes so gently. A trace of laughter, an easy smile. You work her in the same manner, up her thigh, as slow and relaxing as before, massaging deep and heavy. Danielle begins to roll her hips as you grip the flesh at the top of her thighs and dig in.

"Higher, please, just for me." Danielle makes a little hum to accompany the instruction. You obey, knowing where this is leading. You take the oil, and let it pour lightly onto the peak of her cheek, it threatens to roll away so you capture it in your palm, a firm squeeze of her rear, a spread of oily warmth. She shivers and pushes up her hips in silent encouragement.

Your hands trail along, smooth and oily, each touch brings more shivers. Her legs part slightly, a slow squirm of her hips. Your fingers glide on her tight, round cheeks; running across, back and forth as she breathes deep. You press deeper with each sweep and listen as her gasps become a little louder, and her body moves a little more. She bends her arm, reaching back, as you watch it shake. Her nails claw onto the side of the bed.

The more you tease her with your touch, the harder she grips and the more she parts her legs. You've known the perfection of her body, just by seeing it, but this feeling confirms it.

Your hand wanders with long, oily strokes as you glide up her back, tracing the curves of her slim back up, all the way to her neck. There, you hold her as you lean in. "You can turn over now. Let's work out your front," you say, and Dani nods in agreement.

She smiles, though she remains silent, slowly, with such care, turning onto her side, then twisting to face you, her face flush, eyes drowsy, her mouth agape. She rests upon her back, arms by her sides, legs flat against the bed, open, as you gaze into her eyes.

You apply the oil with long slow strokes down her stomach, feeling her as she flinches, watching the dimples at her waist appear then vanish with her body's twists, with every flexing of her muscles. When you trace up, her flat, beautiful chest, and slowly slide a finger beneath her small pert breast, Dani takes a deep, quick, raspy breath, then says, "They didn't lie when the reviews said you have the best hands in the world."

Your oil-covered thumbs graze upon her nipple, soft at first, gentle in pressure, but this becomes firmer, building and rising, faster. Round and round it swirls, and this delight sends Danielle's breath to hitches and sharp, shallow pants. As she squirms in delight, her legs twist, rubbing and clenching. Her teeth bite down on her lips. The flesh of her body glistens.

One hand reaches, down a thigh then back up, across her stomach and down the other. Repeated in pattern as the other thumb never ceases on her pert nipple. Dani's eyes go blank as your touch continues, circling, teasing, stroking and grabbing. Her body responds and you are delighted to witness every tremor and gasp as it arches. And finally, for the first time, a full-blooded moan rings free.

Your hand goes lower. Deeper into the pit of her thigh as she spreads her legs wide. You seek out the inevitable and when you reach her crotch, you watch her tense up. And when the touch slides between her pussy's folds, and against her clit, there's an immediate reaction, her body jumping as you make the slightest flick of motion with your middle finger. You lift and let a trail of oil roll down her slit and back down to her rear.

"I wasn't really joking before," she gasps. "You should be naked. It would make this whole experience better." Dani tilts her head, fixes her drowsy gaze onto you, and holds the stare for what feels like a hundred heartbeats. "Don't you think that's fair? The way things are going?"

You hold the eye contact and consider this, a sudden lump in your throat making any immediate reply a struggle. Her eyes don't move from yours. Even her chest barely heaves with her short, fast panting.

"Go on, I want you naked. I'm going to feel so, so empty otherwise..."

That's all it takes.

How could you deny her?

Your hands, still covered in the hot oil, reach for the buttons at your collar. You slip them in order from the top and release one after another. Danielle's lips twitch, and her teeth rake them to a shine. Your clothing drops to the floor. Bared. It feels so wrong, and unprofessional, yet Dani looks on and gapes with a hungry, dark delight.

"Nervous now?" Her eyebrow twitches up.

"Never," you bluff.

Danielle's mouth stays open wide, and her breaths get caught and flicker as your touch returns to the same spot as before. Gentle, light touches flutter with your fingertips, drawing the tips of your fingers back and forth, back and forth, over her clit. You watch as her eyes widen, how her legs straighten out and she starts to kick her feet with the faintest hint of frustration as you tease.

"I paid for a deep massage." She emphasises the adjective, dragging the syllable out like a whine. "This teasing is bad for my heart," she whispers.

Her arm rises, then reaches for your chest and trails its way downward. The pressure of her finger, nails lightly scratching at your skin, trailing down to the waistline and then she wraps her slender fingers around you. It's hard. Incredibly so.

"And I'll show you how generous I can be with a tip."

She licks her lips slowly and sensually as her eyes meet yours with a mischievous gleam.

You grunt, pressing down with your fingertip, and then without a second thought, push it inside of her. Danielle throws her head back in silent bliss.

"Holy shit," she mumbles in a muffled, muted moan. "Don't hold back." You circle inside her slowly with one finger, letting the oil's moisture guide you. Then, adding a second digit, you delve back into her, pushing in deep and making sure she can feel it all the way inside as the palm of your hand pushes against her crotch.

Dani rolls her head to one side as you work, staring you right in the eyes and biting down on her lip as she throbs and you press down inside of her, moving in all sorts of subtle directions that are impossible for her to guess. With that, she moans again and there's a little grunt from deep within her. Her fist twists around you and she gets bolder with her touch.

You build it into some sort of rhythm and she moves, each time, reacting so well with your own thrusts. When she's relaxed enough for it, you introduce another finger.

"I— You can— Go a little bit faster," she pleas. Stretched wider, Dani starts to grow even more restless. This time, instead of small, languid strokes, your whole hand works, fingers rubbing and swirling, thumb finding her clit to massage it with purpose, building, always building, until she is shuddering under you, every single time, tensing and twitching with every change in direction.

"Come on—more," she pleads, bucking up against your hand, so slick with arousal.

She's barely jerking your cock, not even intentionally, just the jolts through her body causing the occasional twist of her grip or slide of her palm. You let it just rest in the loose curl of her grip and focus on doing what she commands, twisting your hand, gripping and stroking, tugging in circles and holding inside. The quivering gets worse and worse. And her breath grows heavier.

You keep working her relentlessly, as she squeals a drawn-out curse. Dani nearly loses control. She grips you hard, tightens her fist around you in spasm, a pained wince on her face, as she curls her toes so hard.

"Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop." It's the only thing she says, no jokes, no banter, as her eyes roll back, mouth agape as if the wind's been knocked from her, and a final, body-length spasm overtakes her. Her whole body. Back arched off the table, eyes pinched shut. It lasts for the longest time, almost impossible to sustain, you watch with an odd mix of terror and wonder. Her hair is a mess. Her naked, stretched-out limbs, glisten in the warm light.

It takes her a good half minute to fall back down, her lungs now sucking in the air as if there were none at all. One leg quivers. Her breaths slow, her eyes open again and you're holding her stare, her cheeks a faint scarlet, strands of hair plastered across her forehead.

More oil. More rubbing. From tension to relaxation again. Slowly she softens and you turn her whole body limp beneath your hands. All while you barely manage to hold yourself back from ravishing her. She keeps her eyes fixed upon you, so you force a smile, ignoring the ache clenched in her fist. You could kiss those lips, right now. Taste them. How soft and smooth would she feel pressed against you? What noises would come out of her?

You'd be forgiven for letting your imagination run wild with desire, but not forgiven for taking this service in any direction that Danielle didn't command.

She watches your thoughts as they float by, and seems to be considering the same. Then she smirks, and just with a look, reassures you that it's going to happen, and it's going to happen just exactly the way she wants it.

You're working your slick hands over her midriff, and have been for a minute or two, waiting for instruction. You work slightly up her body, perilously close to taking some initiative, but then she speaks, "That was... unexpected."

"Was it? Seemed to be your plan all along."

"Planned to tease. Planned to be touched. But did not expect it to be that good." She shakes her head softly, her cheek touching her shoulder as she stares with a fuzzy, dreamy look that is impossible to decipher. She has a cute, beautiful way of pouting her lips that's fascinating, you're struck still, hypnotised by the sight and the motion. "A few more would be perfect."

"You have me booked for another hour, and the client gets what the client wants."

Dani laughs. A light, melodious chime. "I know what I want," she tells you, gently rocking her palm over your cock. "I'm incredibly hard to fully satisfy, you better get to work."

Dani releases you from her grasp, and turns back over to her front, stretching out once more and looking back at you over her shoulder, holding a stare as she parts her legs. This stare could kill a man if his heart were too weak, and though your heartbeat quickens, your mind focuses on your purpose.

Your hands glide over her oil-coated thighs, wet and glistening. Dani rests her head back down and you are unable to stop your gaze from wandering along her spine, the gentle dimple above her ass, the two tight round cheeks below and the line bisecting between them. Up over her ass, you caress, then you slip and stroke in the valley, this, she clearly enjoys, judging from how her butt rises to greet your touch, her hips rolling once more.

Lower now. Lower and lower, until once again, your finger meets her lower lips and she hisses an inwards breath and tenses. Her body is so reactive to every touch. It makes this so easy, so rewarding, so deeply arousing. You are confident you can build her up, high, and crash her down in waves, for hours, until the sun breaks.

Two fingers again, to begin, that same twist and swirl to coax her towards delirium. Her quiet huffs and suppressed moans fill the air. With a heavy push, you dive in deeper, to watch as her whole body, muscle by muscle, starts to become lost in the sensation. And when you curl your fingers down and grind the heel of your hand over her clit, Dani absolutely loses it. She bites the sheets, body tight, hands trying to grab the far edge of the bed to give something to hold onto.

Her feet kick uselessly and a series of incomprehensible phrases fill her breath and break apart on the way out of her. Though you don't quite understand them, you grasp the meaning. This is what she wants you to do right now, to see how high you can bring her.

Her whole body starts trembling again. Tingling, quivering, shivering. It's one constant shake and her moans are louder, and longer. She struggles to breathe out a scream. Sweat begins to mix in the oil, and she lets out another unintelligible mess of words as you pull away. Dani collapses back into a quivering heap, gasping for air and stretching her hands out as if reaching out to the void, reaching out, grasping for something in the dark.

She lies there, spent, breathing deep. Her entire body is hot and burning as her muscles relax. Each breath is a moan, and her thighs clamp tightly together as if the feeling of nothing after being so worked up is torturous to endure.

Your fingers are soaked in her creamy fluids, it drips down onto the bed below. Yet somehow, this isn't over. No. There's a single goal, right in the back of your mind, that's never stopped clawing. If only you could taste her. Sink your face between her firm ass cheeks and tease her with your tongue and suck and devour her, the entirety of her.

Maybe you could ask. Or maybe you could just start kissing her lower back, your nose rubbing against her tailbone, working to the left, towards her hip and tease, trailing your lips ever lower to a spot just over the peak of her butt, until she wants your tongue to dive right in.

The thought is interrupted by her blessing, "Again. Another. However you want," her words stumble upon each other, a raspy, spent quality to her. "Whatever you want."

You kneel at the very end of the bed, lean over and take her hips and you lift them up with an abrupt strength that earns her immediate interest, judging by her sudden gasp. You put her on her knees, ass in the air. Beneath it, her lips shine and spread. You're going to drown in her. You lean over, planting kisses along her body until they land right where your fingers had been, right along her soaked pussy.

The taste is so sweet. Dani whimpers as her body twitches. Your lips part her, and your tongue stretches and laps her up with an unshakeable excitement. Dani tastes amazing, like every inch of her, hot and rich and so unbelievably delicate. She is desire—concentrated and distilled into the female form. Your mouth descends, kissing every tiny spot you can reach, your lips closing, sucking the sticky warmth into your mouth. You might spend the rest of eternity here, savouring her juices.

Each rough lick gives Dani a small burst of pleasure. This is perhaps not the most elegant approach, but you wouldn't dream of stopping and so you continue, over and over, eager to return Dani to her previous, tranced bliss. So wet and sweet and smooth as velvet, your tongue flattens over her clit.

Dani cums twice like this. Ass in the air, your face in her cunt, two more delicious releases and you lap up both. They come accompanied by Dani's musical screams and moans and swearing and mumbles and complete incoherence. Every part of her body tenses. Every movement becomes forced, with less control, until every part of her, quivering and shaking, is taken by a rapture. Her throat chokes off her moans and breathy whimpers, and then she becomes lost for a time, struggling to remember to breathe, caught up in the overwhelming, and unstoppable waves.

"Enough, enough," Dani chokes out, and so you stand back, watching as she twists back into a flat position on her back again, her hips shaking with the effort. She trembles for a while longer before lying perfectly still on the table. As you gaze at her, she still appears ethereal, unattainable. She gazes up at you with lidded eyes and the drowsy content smile that rests upon her lips—she is a goddess. Even after all those body-racking orgasms, she settles into that same elegant grace that makes you question what makes her mortal.

Dani raises a hand and curls a beckoning finger, "Come here."

And you come to her, to her smile that draws you in, a moth to a flame and the moth will burn, not the flame, it will never tire, it will consume anything. She takes you in her hand, hard and throbbing under her delicate touch, and yet so helpless against it. With a pull, Dani draws you in—to consume.

She parts those pretty, pink, curled lips and then looks up into your eyes and sighs as her warm breath runs across your length. Danielle curls her tongue to the underside of your head and engulfs it. She doesn't raise her head from where it rests, instead making you clamber up to her, so you put a knee on the wooden frame and a hand next to her shoulder. The heat grows, and Dani is swirling her tongue over your tip, making you twitch and throb in her grasp, a slave to her touch.

You're pushing forward, leaning over her, as her mouth opens wide and lets you in, then, all at once, tightens. Her tongue and lips stretch around your thickness and then enclose you, sealing tight. She makes a point of looking you in the eye, holding your stare, a curl at the corner of her mouth that only further sets a tremble to your loins. She pulls, slow, agonising and without hurry, her mouth holds tight and sucks back.

You pull out of her, an inch, and she stays clamped tight and as she draws away, she uses the time to slowly slide her tongue along and around your crown and against the sensitive underside. Once Danielle has pulled right off with a wet smack, the warmth of her breath covers your cock once more. She flicks her tongue against your tip, first as a long, sweeping, lingering brush, then a rapid flick that teases.

"Dani, fuck," you groan.

"That's the idea," she whispers, right against you, her warm, panting breath driving you crazy, her own burning desire barely contained. "Get down there and do me. Right now."

Then, in one fluid movement, her hands find her legs. She grips behind her knees and pulls her thighs up and back. She spreads her legs wide, with her feet in the air.

"Fuck me. I mean it," she states firmly, fixing you with that stern gaze. Her words send a flaming arrow directly to light the most basic of your instincts.

She has presented everything to you and wants to give even more. You can think of nothing else but ploughing her into the table until your vision fades to white. It takes only seconds and you find yourself over her, between those slim legs. You put a hand on each thigh and spread her.

Cock bearing down on her leaking cunt, you lower your body until she has all of your weight on top of her. Her hips squirm under your pressure, and she drags your arm tighter around herself until she finds exactly what she's been looking for. A rub between her folds as your length slips against her, up and down.

"Mmm, yes," she giggles, "put it in, all of it."

In an almost unconscious action, you place the head of your cock against her opening. Her wetness provides no friction, and Dani uses her nails to scratch your back impatiently. Slowly you flex forward. Every inch. So warm, so fucking hot. Tighter than anything.

"Oh, yes," is all Dani has to say as her breath cuts short. You feel the intense squeeze, you have no doubt this is a step beyond the pleasure your fingers gave her, and her entire body tightens, and she pulls you in, deep and full. Her eyes grow wide and her fingers dig into you as you draw back and drive in once more.

Another moan, her pitch gets deeper, this one drawn out from her very core. You hear it right in her chest, from the depth of her lungs, before it squeals free, right into your ear. "Worth every penny." Her words are thick and drawled, hard to make out, she can't seem to decide whether she wants to open her mouth or close it and keep it shut.

She wraps her arms tight around your neck and pulls you in deeper, you push her legs higher, folding her body up and it only makes things tighter, a thrill she clearly relishes.

You roll forward, holding her close to you, giving you a better purchase with her feet held up so high. Dani groans as you bite and suck at the soft skin along her neck. Your thrusts are still slow, so damnably slow. You push, and fill, and wait. Over and over, it's a cruel torment to both of you.

"Ah, come on. Give it to me, hard," Dani says, raking nails on your neck. She turns her head. Finds your mouth. Seals her lips against yours. Teeth nibble and then her tongue penetrates your mouth. Her hips start to rise and drop. Her sex grabs at you, pleading to pound her.

So you let go of your iron self-restraint and fuck her. Fuck her good.

Your tempo grows more powerful. Her walls squeeze and pull and writhe with a desperate need. It's tight, so, so tight, the way she envelops you, the slick warmth around you. Each stroke sends a shudder through her. Another ripple follows and with it, her high, pitchy wails. Dani's never been so loud, so demanding that her pleasure be delivered.

Number five is close, you can feel her body going rigid, the quivering, twitching, curling of her toes, the growing tension, you go faster, a force building within, trying to rush her to the inevitable. Dani screams, moaning incoherently, her eyes screw tight as you throw yourself into her with such ferocity, like an animal, with no regard for pace, or rhythm. Pure, unrelenting pleasure.

She grips so hard on your shoulder, and then her other hand goes back, over her head, gripping the edge of the table in white-knuckled desperation. "I'm... cumming," Dani spits through a clenched jaw, unable to even form her tongue around the word.

Her orgasm feels more powerful this time, so much more; it flows through her and you can't help but stare. Watching the way the pink blossom blooms on her face and how the rest of her pales. One orgasm into another, you think, it's difficult to discern. You're in no rush. No race. Instead, you delight in the absolute loss of control you see in Danielle's face and you feed off it.

Her mouth forms a soundless scream and she reaches up and sinks her nails into your chest and drags them across, not breaking the skin, but hard enough to leave marks. It feels amazing. All the more so watching Danielle break herself, willingly.

"Holy shit..." Danielle pants then sucks air into her empty lungs.

Her little, flexible body, pinned beneath yours, seems incapable of even the tiniest motion, save the trembles.

Through gritted teeth, she says, "I want— I want a facial. My face. Cum."

This is the single sexiest thing she could have possibly said at that moment. For all the time you've spent watching that pretty doll-like face contort in a hundred different ways, you want nothing more than to see it coated with your lust. To paint every last bit of that sweetness on her lips, on her cheeks—everywhere. To witness that brief moment, after climax where she is confused and awash with bliss and trying to remember how to breathe, and it's interrupted by a load of your cum. You want it.

You round the table, standing over her head, lowering down and watching her eyes spark with anticipation. Danielle knows how bad you want it, how close it is, and you watch, enraptured by the way she tilts her head up and licks her lips. Her little, eager tongue.

Dani wraps her fingers around you and strokes and pumps fast, pulling, urging you to completion, teasing you to spill over her, onto those pretty, dainty features. Your skin feels alive, like static and pinpricks and pure lightning, like your nerves have come to the surface. Pent-up energy coils low, threatening to snap. You cannot resist her anymore.

It all unfurls in a glorious, explosive instant. Blinding. A shiver climbs up your spine, spreading to every limb in one long spasm. A long, raw growl in your throat as you shoot thick and hard, some on her face, and some overshooting onto her chest. Dani gasps a cute little "Oh" and then starts to giggle as the second rope lands right over her perfect little features. And then another, this time across the bridge of her nose and her cheek and down her lips. Her tongue collects whatever it can.

Dani's small hand keeps a hard grip and keeps coaxing, even as you feel like you have nothing to give, with it all painting her face, still, she jerks up and down, until you are empty, trembling and drained. Still, she goes, forcing you through painful shivers, laughing the whole time until the pain becomes too much, and your hands take hers and pull.

You prop yourself against the table, looking down at the mess you made. Dani's happily laughing to herself, licking up what she can. "You'll need to clean me again now, won't you? Sponge away all your dirty filth," she giggles.

Her giggle is intoxicating. Loving. It warms you right through. You wish you could bottle up her laughter.

"Need a minute," you grunt, and there's so much pride on her cum-strewn face.

"Aw, need time for recovery?" Dani quips. "I'll just lay here, all messy and defiled. Waiting to be tended to. Enjoy the sight of me, of your filthy cum all over my sweet, innocent face, until you get the strength to lift me. Really, don't rush, I love this feeling."

[sluts4matt]

DISTRACTION

pairing: rough!dom chris x sub!reader

summary: the two of you had been best friends for years. right after you get out of a bad relationship, chris is the first to be of distraction.

warnings: SMUT, mentions of a toxic relationship, swearing, making out, oral (female revieving), fingering, pet names (lots of the use of ma), praising, degrading, p in v, dumbification, dacryphilia, spanking, choking, hair pulling, overstimulation, LOTS of dirty talk, riding, backshots, ROUGHHH, all together just filth tbh.

words count: 2724

author's note: stop this is so filthy, like, whewy 😅. please don't read if you're uncomfortable with anything listed above. kind, constructive criticism welcome.

(loosely based on this song)

"he fucking cheated on you?" chris looked down at you, his eyes fuming. you had walked into his bedroom, a bitter laugh leaving your lips as you uttered the words you didn't truly want to admit.

"has been for fucking months, god i'm so fucking stupid," you mutter, your small hands sliding over your face in frustration. "it was right under my nose too, like how the fuck did I not realize."

you were rambling now, and chris could sense it.

he could feel your frustration, the sadness you were trying to repress. to him you were an open book, had been since the age of nine. and right now, he knew that the last thing you wanted was to be pitied, and so that was exactly what he was not going to do.

"hey, c'mere," chris spoke up, his hand grabbing your wrist and tugging you closer to his body. it ended with your legs being thrown over either side of his, straddling his lap.

you could feel his hardening dick under you, the way he shifted you around on his lap to get comfortable, but you didn't care. chris had always been like this, had always made it obvious that he thought you were attractive, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel the same.

the two of you were close. probably some of the most important people in each other's lives, and while the sexual tension had never really been addressed, it was there. it was definitely fucking there. you could feel him, his eyes roaming over your face, as if he was waiting for you to look him in the eyes.

you let your arms wrap around his neck, and you were suddenly hyperaware of the position the two of you were in. the way his arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you impossibly closer, and the way his nose nuzzled against the spot where your jaw met your neck.

"i'm sorry, sweetheart," chris finally whispered, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the sensitive skin, causing you to shiver. "he didn't deserve you."

his lips kept trailing along your skin, making your mind go foggy. you couldn't think about anything else other than his lips and the way they were making you feel.

"what are you doing, chris?" you asked him, a small giggle leaving your lips. “making my girl feel better, with a distraction,” chris whispered, and you swore you felt his teeth scrape along your skin.

my girl.

the way the two words rolled off his tongue sent a chill through your entire body, and before you could even think, your hand was sliding through his hair, tugging him impossibly closer.

chris groaned, and he could feel his dick harden even more under you, a feeling that had you whining softly. he let his head fall back, looking up at you. "tell me if you want me to stop, okay?" his voice was a whisper, a plea almost.

and god, he didn't want to stop. the way his best friend was sat on his lap, practically begging for him, it made him feel so many things. but just because he didn’t want to didn’t mean he wouldn’t if that’s what she wanted.

your hands slid down his chest, stopping right at his belt. "i want this, christopher." chris groaned. he hated when you used his full name, and you knew that. and that was exactly why you said it, a small smile tugging on your lips.

"say it again," chris said, his hands gripping onto your thighs. his fingers were digging into your skin, sure to leave bruises, but the thought made you moan. "i want this, christopher," you whispered, letting his name roll off your tongue as you grinded against his dick.

chris didn't even hesitate to grab your shirt, pulling it over your head, tossing it behind him. he flipped the two of you over, pinning your wrist above your head. "keep them there for me, angel."

the nickname made you shiver, and you nodded. he sat up on his knees, his fingers fumbling with the button on your jeans, before finally tugging them down your legs. he could see the wet spot on your panties, his hands running over your clothed cunt. "already soaked, baby."

he leaned down, attaching his lips to yours. his hands continued to run over the soft material, before he was ripping the fabric, a loud gasp leaving your lips. chris smirked, his lips still pressed against yours, kissing you hard and deep. he let his hand slide up your body, his finger wrapping around your throat, and squeezing.

"you're mine," chris growled, and you whimpered. "always been yours, chris." he smiled, letting his thumb run across your bottom lip. "that's right, huh, sweet girl,” he mumbled. his lips were trailing down your body, stopping when he reached your hips.

he bit the skin, hard, before licking the mark he left behind. the way your hands were gripping onto the bedsheets, knuckles turning white, only made chris smile. "do you think i can make you feel better than he ever did?" chris asked, his tone was cocky, and the thought of you saying no had him almost growling.

you could hear the anger in his voice, the jealousy. it turned you on even more, the thought of chris being jealous over you. "yes," you mumbled, your hips bucking up, desperately trying to find some type of friction. chris let out a chuckle, “so desperate for me, aren't you, princess?"

he kissed the inside of your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours. "look at you, all needy for me," chris mumbled, his finger sliding through your folds, groaning at the amount of slick he felt.

he didn't even give you time to respond before he was burying his head in between your thighs, his tongue lapping at your clit, sucking it into his mouth.

"christopher!" you moaned out, your back arching off the bed. the hand that wasn't wrapped around your throat was rubbing up and down your thigh, as if he was comforting you.

"taste so good," chris muttered, his lips moving to your entrance, licking a stripe up, before shoving his tongue in. he fucked you with his tongue, moaning at the way you were grinding against his face.

you couldn't focus on anything other than the way his tongue was fucking into you, the way his nose was nudging against your clit. the coil in your stomach was growing tighter and tighter, and you were sure you were about to come.

"chris, 'm gonna come," you whimpered, your hands reaching down, gripping his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. your hips grinned against his face, chasing the pleasure he was giving you.

chris could feel how close you were, the way your walls were fluttering around his tongue, and he could tell that you were trying to keep him close. "go ahead, sweetheart, come for me," he said, his words muffled. that was all it took for you to come, a loud moan leaving your lips, his name falling from them.

chris licked up everything you had to offer him, not wasting a single drop. his eyes were trained on your face, the way you were panting, trying to catch your breath. chris smiled, his lips trailing back up your body, kissing every inch of exposed skin he could. he finally reached your lips, connecting his own with yours.

you could taste yourself on his tongue, and the thought made you moan, a sound that was swallowed by chris' lips. his hand had left your throat, his fingers replacing his tongue. he easily slid two fingers into your cunt, your slickness allowing him to do so. you moaned into his mouth, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him close.

chris smiled against your lips, his fingers thrusting into you fast and hard, and it wasn't long before he was adding a third. you were already sensitive, your previous orgasm having barely settled, but you could feel another building, and it wasn't going to take long.

"gonna come again for me again, ma?" chris whispered, and you nodded your head, whines leaving your lips. "so pretty for me." his fingers were working quickly, his thumb rubbing harsh circles on your clit, his eyes watching as your face scrunched up. "come for me, baby."

it was as if his words were all you needed, and you were coming for the second time. your nails were digging into his skin, and you were sure you were drawing blood, but chris didn't seem to care.

"so good, princess," chris mumbled, his fingers slowly moving out of your cunt, bringing them to your mouth. “wanna taste yourself?” you opened your mouth, letting him shove his fingers in. you moaned, sucking your own slick off of his fingers, and the way chris was looking at you made your brain go fuzzy.

he pulled his fingers out, and he could see the glossy look in your eyes. "you good?" he asked, his hands holding the side of your face. you nodded, leaning into his touch. "mhm."

he chuckled, before flipping the two of you back over, so that he was on his back, and you were straddling him. "want you to ride me, angel." you slid down his lap slightly, your hands going to undo his belt. "take off your clothes, chris."

he didn't hesitate, quickly taking his shirt off. the sight of him shirtless had your mouth watering, but you didn't have time to admire it.

he lifted his hips, letting you pull his jeans and boxers down. you could see his cock, and fuck. it was big, and thick, and you weren't even sure you'd be able to take all of him.

"c'mon, baby. let me see how pretty you are on my cock," chris groaned, and his words had you moaning. you lifted yourself up, letting him line himself up with your entrance. "i'll go slow, angel."

he pushed you down, his hands on your hips guiding you. the stretch burned, and it took everything in you not to whimper. "fuck," chris cursed, his head falling back. his hands were gripping onto your hips so hard, his nails digging into your skin.

you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but once you bottomed out, you were fine. he gave you time to adjust, looking at you for confirmation before he started moving. you nodded your head, and that was all he needed.

his hips started thrusting up, his movements slow and gentle, and his eyes were watching your face for any signs of discomfort.

"more," you muttered, and he complied, his hips thrusting harder, his pace picking up. "always wanted this," chris groaned, his fingers wrapping around your throat, pulling you down to connect his lips with yours.

you moaned into his mouth, his hips thrusting up into you. the room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping, and the way his cock was hitting your g spot had you seeing stars.

"fuck, fuck, please," you cried out, and the sound of your pleas had chris grunting. he moved one of his hands, letting it rest on your lower stomach, putting pressure on it, making him hit that spot even harder.

"feel so good," chris grunted, his grip tightening around your throat. "you like it when i choke you?" "yes, yes, love it," you whimpered, as tears fell down your cheeks.

the sight of his best friend crying above him because of how good he was making you feel had his hips thrusting harder, his hands grabbing at your body. he was sure his fingers were leaving bruises, and the thought had him growling.

"look so pretty taking my cock like a good little slut," chris grunted, and the dirty talk had you whining. "yeah? my baby likes being called a slut?" you nodded, a loud moan leaving your lips. "my pretty little slut."

he flipped the two of you over, chris hovering above you. he had a hand wrapped around your throat, his other hand resting beside your head. his lips were right against your ear, his voice low, growling.

his hips continued to drill into you, your eyes rolling back. you were barely able to form any thoughts, let alone sentences other than whimpers and whines.

"you feel so good, baby," chris grunted, and the way he was speaking made you moan. "gonna come," you cried out, the familiar feeling in your stomach starting to build. "i know, princess," he said, his hand moving to grip the bed sheets, his hips thrusting into you faster.

"fuck, please," you begged, with the way his hand was wrapped around your throat it had you seeing stars. the pleasure was intense, and chris could feel the way you were shaking, your walls fluttering around him.

"such a pretty little slut, crying for her best friend as he fucks her," he whispered, and the words were all you needed, sending you over the edge, your high washing over you. you came with a loud moan, the tears that were previously falling were now streaming down your face, the pleasure was overwhelming.

chris continued his brutal pace, his lips sucking marks into the sensitive skin of your neck. he pulled out flipping you over, "hands and knees, angel." he waited until you got into position before shoving himself back into you, both of you groaning. he let his hands wrap around your hair, pulling your head back.

his lips were attached to the spot between your neck and shoulder, his hips moving impossibly faster. the feeling was so intense, you could barely breathe. "fuck, please, chris," you were mumble-whining, unable to form any coherent sentences. the feeling was too much, too overwhelming. "can't talk, ma?"

chris chuckled, and the sound made your eyes roll back. his fingers were digging into the flesh of your hips, and you were sure that if he didn't have such a good grip on you, you would have collapsed by now. "my dumb little plaything, hmm?"

you whined, his words going straight to your cunt, causing you to clench around him. "already dripping again, hm? you like being my dumb little toy?"

you nodded, and he chuckled, letting go of your hair and pushing your face into the mattress. the change in angle had him hitting a different spot, and he was sure the sounds that were leaving your mouth were inhuman.

"christopher, chris, please," you were begging, and it was music to his ears. "what's wrong, princess?" he said, his hand rubbing your back as his thrusts slowed. "it's too much," you mumbled, and he could see the tears staining your face, the drool leaking out of the side of your mouth. "too much ma?"

you nodded, and his eyes widened.

"you want me to stop, princess?" chris said, and he was ready to pull out, when you shook your head. "want you to come," you whispered, and he smiled. "yeah, angel? my girl wants me to come in her tight little pussy?"

you nodded, and that was all it took for chris. his thrusts picked up, his fingers gripping the flesh of your hips. "gonna fill you up," chris grunted, his words going straight to your core, and suddenly you were coming once again.

you could feel his hot cum filling you up, and the way he was fucking into you had his seed leaking out of you. chris' head was resting on your back, and you were barely able to support the two of you, as your legs were shaking.

he pulled out, his hand swiping over your cunt, pushing his cum back into you. "keep it in, yeah?" he muttered, and the words made you shiver. chris laid on his back, pulling you to lay on his chest, his hands running up and down your body.

"you okay, angel?" chris asked, his eyes searching yours. he was worried he had pushed too far, and while it seemed like it, he didn't regret it. "yes, more than okay," you whispered, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

"good, good." there was a moment of silence, before he chris was breaking it.

"if i ever see that bastard, i'll fucking kill him."

[fairyhaos]

❍ ultimate boyfriend material // lee dokyeom

dokyeom x gn!reader (ft. bsf!hoshi), 3k+ words

tags: elementary teacher!dk, fluff, crack, established relationship, bi disaster hoshi bc i said so 😗✌, literally just for fun idk what this is lmao

warnings: swearing, alcohol + food mention, yn has only had bfs before, a bit rambly pls bear w me

summary: in which you bring your boyfriend seokmin to yours and soonyoung's monthly dinners, and it ends up going way better than anyone had expected.

You glance upwards to see Soonyoung looming forebodingly over you like a disapproving shadow, and you sigh.

"Soonyoung. Look. It's going to be totally fine. Seokmin is really, really sweet."

Soonyoung doesn't cease in his looming, continuing to glare darkly down at you as you take your shoes off, having just entered his house for your monthly dinner chats. "I'm sorry, Y/N, but your current track record means that I don't believe you in the slightest."

"Come on, my taste in boyfriends isn't that bad."

Soonyoung squawks, breaking his intimidating façade in an instant. "Isn't that b— your last boyfriend tried to hit on my girlfriend! Whilst both of us were right there!"

You cringe a little at the memory, before waving off his words. "This time won't be like that. I promise."

"Oh, it better not be like that,” your best friend says darkly as he leads you through his apartment. “I held back last time, but if this guy is as much of a douchebag as the other one, then I’m punching him all the way into space.”

“Seokmin won’t be that bad at all, I promise! Also, please don’t punch anyone,” you beg, trailing after him into the kitchen. “You know how much of a wimp you are.”

Soonyoung simply ignores your jab at his strength with a sniff. “Well, we’ll see how good of a boyfriend this Seokmin is, first.”

Every month since graduating and having to move away due to your respective jobs, you and your best friend, Soonyoung, set aside one Saturday evening where you meet at one another's houses, have dinner, and complain about all the ridiculous things that have gone on in your life whilst the two of you were apart. 

They were fun, easy ways to destress, and you loved catching up with your best friend. But after the first disastrous dinner all those years ago where you'd brought your then-boyfriend to meet Soonyoung, every few months, the monthly dinners became a sort of hell the revolved specifically around the idea of your boyfriends acting up terribly and Soonyoung staring at you with less and less faith in your ability to choose a suitable romantic partner for yourself. 

This time, you'll be introducing your fourth boyfriend over the course of the several years of these dinners, and it's safe to say that you're a bit nervous. 

“This Seokmin guy already has some notes in my bad books right now, though,” Soonyoung says as he brings out the snacks, pouring chips into little fancy dishes. This time, it's his turn to host, and he likes pretending these are fun, formal affairs. “He didn't even show up with you. Where is he?”

You sigh, picking up a few dishes and following Soonyoung out of the kitchen and into the living room. 

“I told you, he has a work thing,” you explain. “He's always really busy, but he'll be here, I promise. He promised me that he'll make time for this.”

Soonyoung snorts sceptically. “Well, that'll be a new one,” he says. “Your boyfriend not even showing up.”

“He will show up!” you say, and then roll your eyes. “Come on, Soonyoung. Don't judge the guy. You haven't even met him yet.”

“Oh, I'm judging alright,” Soonyoung says, shaking his head. He flops down onto the sofa. “Though I have to say, the bar is practically on the floor, right now. After seeing the kind of guys you date, I'll be blown away if he's not some kind of psychopath.”

You groan as you sit down next to him, immediately attacking the chips. “No matter what you say, my first boyfriend wasn't actually some psycho.”

“And neither was your second, huh?”

“Wh—no! Come on, Soons, all my boyfriends were actually quite sweet,” you argue. “The second guy paid for everything for me when we were dating.”

“Yeah, and then you broke up with him at our dinner and he smashed his own phone out of anger then tried to steal my silverware,” Soonyoung points out. “Why even try to steal my silverware, anyway? I own, like, five forks, and that's it.”

You look at Soonyoung, curious. “You own five forks?”

He waves a hand. “Yeah. But anyway, my point is, my expectations are very low, but that doesn't mean my standards are. If he's a bad person, even if he’s not as bad as the others, it doesn't matter. I'm kicking him out. You might have bad taste, but you still deserve better.”

With another long-suffering sigh, you rub your forehead. “Soonyoung, I promise you. Seokmin is actually a decent guy. You'll love him a lot, too, I'm sure of it.”

Soonyoung eyes you sceptically. “I'll believe it when I see it.”

“I swear to God—”

Three, neat knocks on Soonyoung’s front door interrupt you, and both of you stare at each other, eyes wide. 

“That's Seokmin,” you say, and immediately leap up from the sofa to go greet your boyfriend. 

“Hey, let me go see the guy first, I wanna see if he's actually all that gr—”

“Seokmin,” you say a little breathlessly, having already opened the door before Soonyoung can leave the living room and get to his own front door. When he gets there, though, he slows down, surprised. 

Seokmin beams at you, all shining eyes and gentle care. His hair is wind-ruffled, as if he'd run all the way from the bus stop in a hurry, and he's apologising profusely for being late but you simply wave his words aside, kissing him on the cheek placatingly and then laughing when he gives you a kiss on the nose in return. 

He's cute, Soonyoung realises, astounded. You look really cute together. 

Well. As Seokmin smiles at you and pinches your cheek adoringly, Soonyoung is at least able to quite happily cross off Not a psychopath on his list of worries over your boyfriend.

“Here, this is Soonyoung!” you say, leading Seokmin by the hand further into the house as if you own the place, pointing to where Soonyoung is standing at the end of the hall. “Soonyoung, meet Seokmin, my boyfriend.”

Seokmin smiles at him, expression turning a little nervous as he gives Soonyoung a wave. “Hi! It's nice to meet you.”

He holds something out to him, and it's then that Soonyoung notices the bag in Seokmin's hands that holds a rather expensive bottle of wine, and his eyes widen. 

“I kind of panicked and bought the most expensive one I could see,” Seokmin said, shoulders rising bashfully even as he smiles. “But I couldn't exactly come empty-handed, so, uh, here you go?”

Soonyoung shakes himself out of his daze, and gives a smile back, because it's somehow weirdly impossible not to when this guy smiles at him like that. 

“Thanks,” Soonyoung says, accepting the wine. None of your other boyfriends had ever brought round gifts before. “And don't stress about it. If it doesn't taste good, then we can always bust out the cans of beer,” he jokes, and Seokmin beams, relieved. 

You watch the entirety of the short exchange and can't help but smile, excited that maybe, this time, things will go well. 

“Well,” Soonyoung continues, and then gestures towards the living room. “Would you like to have this wine along with some snacks before we have dinner?”

───────────── ⏰

For the rest of the time that you're talking before actually having dinner, Soonyoung observes your new boyfriend like a hawk. 

Whilst he was, admittedly, briefly awestruck by how cute this Seokmin was (none of your boyfriends were ever cute: ridiculously handsome, sure, but cute was definitely new) he couldn't afford to let himself be swept away by that first impression. Your second and third boyfriends had originally been nice, after all, until they were… not. 

“So, Seokmin,” Soonyoung says in his ‘Y/N’s Boyfriends Interrogation Tone’, leaning forward. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you cringing in embarrassment. “What do you do for a living?”

Seokmin blinks at him from over the rim of his wine glass, round-eyed innocent as he takes a sip then beams. “I teach at the nearby elementary school! Working with kids is like daily marathon training, I swear, but they're all so cute so it makes it all worthwhile.”

Soonyoung raises his eyebrows, surprised. 

Elementary school teacher was definitely not a job he'd expected from one of your boyfriends. It wasn't a profession that really made much money, and all of your exes had been… well, rolling in cash.

“They all absolutely adore him, too,” you add, leaning forward with a smile. “You should see him with the kids. They’re literally all over him the minute he walks into the room.”

Seokmin laughs, embarrassed at the obvious admiration in your tone, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m around them literally every week, so I guess it’s inevitable that they grudgingly accept me.”

“It’s not just grudging acceptance,” you say, waving a hand. “I’ve seen them! They literally love you so much.”

“You saw them for one afternoon,” Seokmin says, but he’s smiling at you, all fond. “And most of the time they were fawning over you, saying that you were so pretty and there was no way you’d date someone like me.”

That makes you laugh, evidently pleased by Seokmin’s adorable little compliment, and Soonyoung stares dumbfoundedly as the two of you continue bantering. It’s almost like he’s not there. He’s a bystander, observing from the outside whilst you smile at your boyfriend and recount that time you visited him at work (you’ve visited Seokmin’s elementary school and yet Soonyoung didn’t know he existed until a week ago?), and your eyes are practically sparkling as you look at him, and Soonyoung feels very, very astounded.

Never before has he seen you look so comfortable with someone outside the close friends you already have. It’s quite cute.

And also sucks a little, because now Soonyoung has to begrudgingly contemplate whether to move ‘Lee Seokmin’ firmly into his good books.

“Alright, okay, okay,” Soonyoung interrupts the two of you as you giggle about something that had happened with Seokmin’s students. “I see that you didn't tell me about Seokmin when you visited him at school once, but I guess I'll let it slide.”

You roll your eyes as Soonyoung takes a brief moment to pout in annoyance. “Because he and I had only just started dating, then. I didn't want you scaring him away with that terrifying face of yours.”

Soonyoung eyes you, unimpressed. “I'll have to know that this terrifying and handsome face is exactly why I keep getting hired as a choreographer again and again.”

That makes you scrunch up your face, evidently disagreeing with his statement, but you don't get to retort as Seokmin leans forward then, eyes bright and keenly fixed on Soonyoung. 

“Oh! Y/N told me you do choreos for idol groups, and teach classes,” Seokmin says. “That's so cool.”

The awe is so pure and present on his face and Soonyoung can't help but preen a little. 

“Thanks! I've worked with a few notable people, yeah, but I love teaching classes more than anything else,” Soonyoung says. “Teaching budding dancers is always so fun for me.”

Seokmin shakes his head, amazed. “I'm terrible at dancing. My kids were having a recital today—which was why I was late, and I'm so sorry about that—and I've been teaching them the dance for the past several weeks. If there's one thing I've learned from it, though, is that dancing... isn't exactly my best skill.”

He says it so dramatically, face dead-serious like it's the gravest matter in the world, and Soonyoung can't help but laugh. 

“I'm sure that's not true,” he assures, but he sees you shaking your head fervently, a smile on your face.

“No, he's actually the worst in the world” you say, and Seokmin pouts and cries out in protest. “Baby, it’s true! You and I both know it.”

“Y/N’s exaggerating,” Seokmin says, almost embarrassedly, in Soonyoung’s direction, making you laugh. You take out your phone, beginning to scroll through something. “I’m not that bad. Just a little bad.”

“I mean, anyone can get better with some training. And Y/N really does like being dramatic, so—”

You shake your head, turning your phone towards Soonyoung. There’s a video playing on your screen, taken from a darkened house party, loud music playing from the speakers. “Just look, Soonyoung. You’ll see what I mean.”

Soonyoung watches the video, which evidently turns out to showcase Seokmin’s dancing skills. The cameramanship is shoddy, and it’s obvious that it’s you recording, your barely-suppressed laughter sounding so fond as you record your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend who, genuinely, really is rather bad at dancing. In kind of a cute way. But still really, shockingly terrible.

“Well,” Soonyoung says, after a moment. “Well.”

Seokmin is still pouting. “Can I use ‘abstract dance’ as my excuse?”

Both you and Soonyoung laugh at that, and you lean over to your boyfriend to coo over him and pinch his cheeks, placating him in an adoring tone and. Even though Soonyoung should feel annoyed at the blatant affection, he can’t help but smile.

Okay, so Seokmin is cute, and a little bit funny, Soonyoung observes. His regard of this guy has gone up, just a little bit.

“You two are really adorable together,” Soonyoung admits, before clasping his hands all business-like, preparing to go back into interrogation mode. 

You beam at his comment, and look over at Seokmin proudly, who also seems a little relieved. But Soonyoung isn't quite finished. He wants just a little more information before he fully decides what his opinion of Seokmin should be.

He leans forward. “So, how long have you been dating?”

“Only about three months,” Seokmin says. Soonyoung is about to frown and comment on the short time, before Seokmin grins, all sunshine-like and takes your hand. “But we’ve known each other for a lot longer than that.”

“Seokmin used to be my neighbour, back when we were in middle school,” you say, and Soonyoung’s eyes widen comically fast. “He’s… well, he was the ‘cute neighbour boy’ that I was always telling you about.”

Soonyoung jaw drops open in an instant, feeling like he’s had the wind punched out of him at the abrupt revelation. 

‘Cute neighbour boy’ was the son of the family that had lived next door to you back when you and Soonyoung were younger, and you would arrive at school every day to tell him about the latest adorable conversation you’d had with the boy next door from over the backyard fence. Soonyoung had teased you endlessly for it, but you’d insisted it wasn’t a crush and that he was just some friendly boy who always made your evenings a little sunnier with his nonsensical, cute tales.

Soonyoung hadn’t really believed it, but ‘cute neighbour boy’ moved out of town before he could ever remind you that he wanted to meet him, and your conversations moved away from the topic after that. 

“You’re cute neighbour boy?” Soonyoung asks raspily, his voice having stopped working due to his surprise at this turn of events. “You’re—and you met him again?” he says, turning to you in amazement.

Seokmin laughs, rubbing his nose bashfully. “I was walking home after work when we met again, and I just knew Y/N on sight. I was… I kind of fell in love, all those years ago, so I was so glad that we were able to meet again.”

“Then we started talking again, became friends, started dating… and now here we are,” you say, and look over at Seokmin once more, stars in your eyes. “I’m glad I found you again.”

Seokmin visibly melts. “I’m glad I found you again, too.”

You smile, eyes crinkling, and Seokmin’s eyes crinkle in sync, fondly reaching over to pinch your cheek before his thumb smooths over your cheekbone, affectionately soft.

“Fuck,” Soonyoung swears softly to himself as he watches the way Seokmin handles you so gently, like you’re something so precious to him.

A cute, funny guy who works with kids and looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky? 

Looks like Lee Seokmin has definitely made his way into Soonyoung’s super-duper good books.

“Right,” he announces suddenly, causing the two of you to jump. “Dinner will be ready in about five minutes. I hope you guys like roast chicken.”

Seokmin beams at him. “That sounds great! Do you mind if I use your bathroom first, though? And I’ll need to wash my hands. Dealing with kids is not the cleanest job in the world.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Soonyoung gestures to the bathroom. “Door on the left.”

Seokmin excuses himself, bowing to Soonyoung and sending another smile your way before heading out of the room. Soonyoung watches the way you watch him go, looking at him like he’s the reason the world still spins every single day.

God, you’re so in love. But, Soonyoung has to admit, he kind of sees why.

You finally turn to look at your best friend once Seokmin has left the room, eyes sparkling.

“So,” you say, the anticipation. “What do you think?”

Soonyoung can’t hold his polite and put-together facade any longer.

“Holy shit,” he bursts out, and you laugh, delighted. “Y/N, where did you find him?”

You grin, the relief and love clear in your face as you shrug teasingly. “Just out and about. Why? You jealous?”

“Very,” Soonyoung groans. “Wow. I never thought someone like that even existed, let alone that it’d be my best friend who ends up bagging them.”

“What can I say? I have excellent taste,” you say. 

Soonyoung shakes his head, amazed. He can’t even argue with you anymore. Seokmin is the epitome of boyfriend material. He’s just the most incredible guy in the world.

And that makes him utterly perfect for you.

He furrows his brows, thinking deeply, before suddenly lurching forward and holding you by the shoulders. Soonyoung looks you dead in the eye, serious.

"Y/N. Can I date your boyfriend too?"

That makes you splutter out a laugh, shoving him off. "What the— no! Get your own boyfriend!"

Soonyoung whines, but he's smiling, and you can't help but smile too, because all of this is Soonyoung being his lighthearted, teasing self, which is just proof that he approves, that he thinks Seokmin is good enough for you, and it makes your heart feel light. 

He edges closer to you again, nudging you in the side. "Okay, but seriously, if I asked him... do you think he'd let me—?"

You smack his face away, laughing. "Hey. Back off. Seokmin’s mine."

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @haodore @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit

[zeppelinlvr]

Still Feel Like That

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: you accompany Dean, Sam, and Bobby on a hunt. You and Dean go out for a drink and Dean looks after you when you've had too much to drink.

Notes: Reader is a yapper (cus same), kinda implied that reader is Bobby's kid but it's not stated outright, sorry if you like Poison or Bret Micheals reader hates on them for a second, I assumed that Dean switched out his radio with one that would be compatible with cassettes since a 67' would likely have a 8 track player, I got lazy with my research so I apologize if any facts are incorrect (feel free to correct me).

Warnings: Suggestive language, flirting, cursing, mentions of throwing up, y/n is used like three times, Dean in his undies (yummy!)

Word Count: 4.1k

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You sat at Bobby’s old wooden table, sipping hot coffee from your Garfield mug. You didn’t own it but when you saw the grumpy orange cat with a text saying ‘I'm listening I just don’t care’ sitting on Bobby’s shelf of mismatched old mugs you’d used the cup ever since. 

You sat in your pajama shorts, slippers, and an old tee shirt, the cracked text reading “Winfield national flatpickin’ championships”. The shirt previously belonged to Bobby and he couldn’t remember how he acquired such an item, he assumed he was passing through Kansas and picked it up along the way, but you loved it so much he felt it was necessary to give it to you. 

You were reading through a book you had picked up on demonology. Bobby had given you a few vague events that had occurred and you were trying to figure out what exactly he was dealing with. You had a book on Pagan gods on standby. 

You heard the front door open, figuring it was Bobby you chose to continue reading but when you heard unfamiliar voices you quickly looked up in a panic, nearly knocking your chair over to try to scramble and find Bobby. You were not a hunter by any means, you just did the research and stayed in the comfort of motels. You knew some basic self defense but you could not fight a serious threat on your own.

You were making a dash for the nearest room when you heard Bobby yell your name. 

You quickly spun around to look at him, seeing two tall, handsome, potentially dangerous, men standing next to him. 

“What the hell are you doing kid?” Bobby asked you, concerned by your panic stricken expression.

“I heard people- and I was trying to find you and not die” You uttered out, still confused about who the two other men were. “Sorry, who the hell are these guys” you added 

“Sam and Dean I talk-” Bobby started but you cut him off 

“Winchester?” you asked excitedly “Bobby talks about you two all the time and I really wanted to meet both of you, especially Dean, Bobby says you make stupid decisions but you sound fun” you rambled quickly, a smirk growing on the shorter ones face at your mention of him. 

“Oh my god you have to be Sam, you totally have that sad puppy look” you said to the taller one “You could ask me to donate my life savings to a charity then build a shelter for the homeless and I totally would” you continued to talk.

“I like her” the shorter man who you had now assumed was Dean said with a grin 

“Wait Dean” you started turning to him “Did you drive your car here, I’ve heard rumors it's a totally awesome 67’ impala and I’ve been dying to see it” 

Before Dean could respond with a comment about how you were marriage material Bobby interrupted your rambling “Okay motor mouth, I’m sure Sam and Dean are enthralled by your commentary but they need our help” 

“Are you the super smart Y/n?” Sam asked 

“The one who has saved our asses more times than we can count” Dean added

“Yes, that's her, and I don't prefer to shout about her to the whole world because she's not exactly Hulk Hogan” Bobby said, growing slightly annoyed with the continued blabbering. 

“Really? Hulk Hogan? You have to compare me to that doofus, call me Bret Micheals while you’re at it” You shot at him 

“I’m sorry, would you prefer to be Kerry VonErich” Bobby sighed 

“Yes, minus his incredibly tragic life” you said as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Bobby why have we not met this chick sooner, she's awesome” Dean said slightly in awe. 

“You two don't care to stop by all that often and I knew you and her would get along real well and we wouldn't get anything done” Bobby responded hinting at the exact situation that was happening. 

“Let me see Dean’s car then I promise I will be productive” you offered

“Yeah let her see my car” Dean added, Sam smiling at the situation and Bobby rolling his eyes and reluctantly agreeing. 

The four of you made your way outside and when you saw the impala you let out a gasp of excitement before sprinting towards it. 

“She is so beautiful” you gushed to Dean “You keep her in phenomenal condition, does she run well?” 

“Like she’s new” Dean responded, smiling at your excitement over the car. 

“Is there an 8 track player? I have a few tapes I could give you if you want” You offered 

“Switched it out for a cassette player” Dean told you

“Good choice, 8 tracks are such a hassle, you can hear another song playing in the background of whatever you're trying to listen to, and don't even think about trying to fast forward to get to the song you want, at least you have a slim chance to land on the right song with cassettes” you rambled 

“Yeah no kidding, you wanna see my tape collection” Dean offered 

“Nope, we agreed on just the car now we need to figure out what the hell is going on in Pawnee Nebraska” Bobby interrupted as the four of you made your way back into the house 

“I’m so sick of going to these ho-hum towns, why can't you guys hunt things that reside in memphis or something, I want to go to a museum that isn't about the butter cow or a mayor who died of dysentery” You said with a sigh

“Hunting in this ho hum town means road trip and i'm sure Dean would be delighted to let you ride down with him” Bobby offered for Dean, partly because he wanted some silence in his own car and he also wanted you, Dean, and Sam to be able to talk as much as you pleased and hopefully be caught up so you could focus on working. 

Dean agreed to the idea and Sam shrugged, hoping you would prevent bickering between him and his brother. 

“I promised I’d focus so Sam, you’re smart, have you found out more than some bad weather and a ‘still under investigation death of a couple’” You asked, turning to the taller brother, offering him a smile, slightly feeling bad you’d paid so much attention to his brother and not talked to Sam much. 

“Yeah, I think the weather is unrelated, I found autopsy reports and the couple had these wounds on the back of their necks. I don't recognize the pattern but you might be able to” he replied to you with a soft smile, he made his way to his computer and set it on the table where your abandoned books and coffee lay. 

You made a noise of disgust upon seeing the picture but you instantly recognized the wound pattern “That has to be changelings, they feed off of the mother until she dies, it's so creepy” You started “In a lot of the books I’ve read they switch out an infant for a changeling, did the couple have a kid?” you asked 

“Yeah, but she's a little girl who’s ten years old” Sam replied to you

“Different cultures have varying takes on changelings, some of them say they can grow and develop like a human would, so it's definitely a possibility” You told him “We have to get down there asap before more kids are switched out, and when you figure out where the little girl is at now, monitor her behavior closely, she's gonna be hungry and use abnormal phrases for a ten year old.” You explained

“Alright you heard her” Dean said, squeezing between you and Sam and placing a hand on your shoulder. He secretly wanted your attention back on him. 

“Let me pack a bag and change then I’ll be ready to head out” you told them

“Same goes for me, give us five minutes” Bobby added

You headed to your room and changed into jeans and tee shirt, additionally throwing on a crewneck from a college in Louisiana that you had found in the aisles of a thrift store. 

You threw a few additional outfits in a duffle bag and your pajamas which consisted of sleep shorts and a tee shirt, you threw your slippers for your constantly cold feet in the bag and you were ready to go. 

Your socked feet padded against the floor as you made your way to the front door to grab your shoes. You threw them on and told the group you were ready to go. 

Dean, Sam and you crowded into the impala, Dean leaping on the opportunity to tell Sam to sit in the back after you had informed the brothers you get carsick. 

“I have zofran, Sam can sit in the front, I don't want to take his spot” you said 

“Nope, Sam get in the back” Dean quickly said as he took his spot in the driver's seat. 

After the three of you had gotten in the car and started on the trip Sam complained “Dean, I know there's a pretty girl but what if I get carsick in the back” 

“You won't, and the very pretty girl won't complain about my music choices” Dean told him and raised his brows at you.

Your face heated at how they referred to you, you cleared your throat and changed the subject “I know you guys are more hands on than me so I know a few ways to figure these things out, different folklore says if you can make them laugh they’ll reveal their truth, or you can shout god bless you, you can cook with eggshells. German legends say you can whip the child but honestly the easiest way to kill them is just lighting the fuckers on fire” You explained “People used to throw them in the fireplace or in the oven but you can get away with a blowtorch and a can of hairspray” 

“That's more our speed” Dean replied 

“People were seriously throwing these things in ovens?” Sam asked “What if the kid wasn't actually a changeling” 

“People got overly paranoid and it wasnt exactly common knowledge back then that someone could be born with physical or mental disabilities, also families used to be really reliant on everyone in the household being able to help out so a lot of child abuse ensued because parents didnt want to have a changeling on their hands” You explained “Anyway these things creep me out so lets talk about something more lighthearted on the way there” 

“i agree sweetheart” Dean said and you blushed at the name “I heard your comment about Bret Micheals, are you a Poison hater” 

“I can tolerate them but I will not go out of my way to listen to them, they’re definitely one of the lamest hair bands” you told him “I definitely prefer Van Halen, Quiet Riot, Def Leppard and Cinderella if I’m going to listen to hair bands” 

“Atta girl, you don’t like that Barry Manilow bullshit do you?” Dean asked 

“God no, fuck Styx too, that Babe song pisses me off” you laughed 

“Cus you know it’s you babe” Sam started singing off key and you groaned in annoyance, Dean laughing. 

The three of you talked about music, movies, and Sam and Dean's past hunts, asking odd would you rather questions when trying to think of new conversation topics 

“Okay would you rather have to eat a little bit of cheese on everything or never eat cheese again” you asked 

“Never eat cheese again” Sam quickly answered 

“I’d put a little bit on everything I fucking love cheese” you answered 

After extensive conversation and small bits of bickering the three of you made it to Nebraska, Bobby close behind.

Dean checked into the hotel, getting two rooms, one for him and Sam and one for you and Bobby. He gave the woman behind the counter a credit card with a name that most certainly was not his then the three of you made your way to the rooms. Dean opened the door to one of the rooms and the cowboy theme of the room made you laugh.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em’ Dean” you said 

“It’s fun, this cowboy boot pen holder on the desk is cute” he said, picking up the small red ceramic boot with a few pens sticking out of it.

“It is kinda cute, and I like the lasso on the wall” you pointed out 

“Oh man, creepy” you said as you noticed the sad clown painting hanging above the bed. 

“That's coming down” Sam said and quickly moved over to the painting to take it off the wall and lay it face down in the corner of the room. 

“Sammy here is a afraid of clowns” Dean informed you

“I don’t blame him, they’re scary, and all the media about killer clowns doesn’t exactly make me want to see one” you replied 

Bobby arrived at the motel shortly after the three of you had gotten the rooms. The four of you were discussing plans for the next day as it was later and you all agreed to start interviewing people in the morning. 

“i’m gonna go grab a drink, I saw a bar about ten minutes from here” Dean announced 

“I’ll join you if Bobby and Sam don’t need help with research” you said 

“Go take a break kid, you work your ass off, me and Sam will be fine” Bobby told you, you thanked him and gave him a quick hug before heading out with Dean. 

You weren’t surprised by the crowd at the bar, mostly older men who looked like they had just gotten off work, farm clothes and dirty work shirts adorned most of them. A few of them had women who you assumed were their wives at their side, chatting quietly with them. You were glad your outfit wasn’t out of place for the scene. 

A man who you guessed to be around fifty was working behind the bar, he gave Dean and you a soft smile before asking what you’d like to drink. 

“I’ll take a beer” Dean told him

“Busch okay? We don’t have anything else” The bartender replied 

“Perfect” 

“And for the pretty lady” the bartender asked 

“I’ll just take a vodka cranberry” you said, not minding his comment too much, you knew he didn’t mean anything by it, people just talked like that. 

You and Dean sat at the bar after getting your drinks, chatting with each other. 

One drink led to another and you lost count of how many you had drank. You were asking Dean silly questions and you began to vocalize your thoughts about how handsome he is.

“I know you can't kill a vampire with a wooden stake, but have you ever tried death by stereo?” you asked with a giggle, you had taken your hand into his and were toying with his fingers. 

“The Lost Boys is a great movie, me and Sammy will try out death by stereo just for you the next time we hunt vampires” he replied earning a laugh from you.

“You are so manly and cute and handsome” you slurred poking a finger into his chest, eyes widening at the firmness of his muscles “Oh my gosh you’re strong too, I feel like I just poked a rock” 

He laughed and shook his head at your comments “Let's get you to bed before you say more shit you’ll regret tomorrow.” 

“I don't regret anything, I’ve been thinking about how cute you are all day, and those big arms wrapped around-” You blabbered but were cut off by Dean.

“Yep time for bed, but give me a heads up sweetheart if you still feel this way after you’ve sobered up” 

“I’m going to pay, then we’re going to get in the car, then get you to bed” he added

“Very forward, I like it” you giggled with a raise of your brows. 

After Dean paid he walked you out to the Impala, you stumbling slightly finding it hard to walk after being sat down all night. 

“I'm cold” you lied, you were not cold but you wanted his jacket.

“You have a sweater on?” he replied with confusion lacing his tone.

“You're supposed to give me your jacket then I can smell like you” you told him and tried to give him a hug while still walking. 

He forced a sigh then wrapped his jacket around you. You snuggled into it and thanked him.

After a car ride consisting of you informing Dean your feet hurt and you were tired, the two of you arrived back at the motel.

Dean opened the door to yours and Bobby's shared room. You giggled noticing the lights were off. 

Dean attempted to shush you “he's probably asleep already, quiet down” 

You only laughed harder at the fact you needed to be quiet “he looks like Ebenezer Scrooge when he sleeps, he just needs the little hat” you commented through your giggles, Dean tried to hide his smile to not encourage you. 

“I always think the ghost of Christmas past is gonna get him” you said before bursting into laughter and Dean quickly slapping his hand over your mouth. He pushed you into the bathroom and shut the door attempting to muffle your giggles. He flipped the light on and asked you where your duffle bag was. 

“In the room somewhere” you shrugged 

“Well no shit sweetheart” 

“It's on my bed I think” you giggled 

“Okay perfect you stay right here and I’ll go get it then you're going to change and go to bed” he told you

Dean groped through the dark until he found your bag, it was sitting on your bed as you had told him. He made his way back to the bathroom to find you sitting on the toilet lid, playing with the toilet paper roll that had the first square folded into a fancy shape. 

“Isn't this just precious” you said and showed him the toilet paper

“Yes, very cute put it down” he said and took the roll out of your hands, placing it on the counter. 

He opened your bag and fished out your shorts and a tee shirt “get changed” 

“No can do, can’t get my pants off” you shrugged with a fake sigh 

Usually Dean would be enthralled to take a girl's pants off but he wasn’t in the mood for an ass whooping from Bobby. 

He just prayed Bobby wouldn’t wake up because you weren’t budging. He helped you shimmy your jeans off your legs, then slipped your shorts onto you. 

“Need help with my shirt too” you said as you shrugged his jacket off your shoulders and put it into your lap. 

He slipped your crewneck over your head, your shirt coming off with it. He quickly took in your figure, admiring the sight of you in your bra before he slipped a clean shirt over your head. 

You unclasped your bra and slipped it off from under your shirt before tossing it on the bathroom floor. 

“Really? you can do that but you can’t change on your own” Dean whisper yelled 

“I can’t show you too much” you shrugged “now can you carry me to bed?”

He was willing to do anything to get you in bed at this point so he scooped you up in his arms and carried you out to your bed, you giggled as he threw you down onto the sheets. 

“Go to bed now” he whispered and you quickly made yourself comfortable under the blankets, cuddling into his jacket that you still held in your arms. 

You heard the door close and you soon drifted off to sleep. 

You awoke around four in the morning the red numbers off the alarm clock informing you of the time. You were starving and the alcohol had barely worn off. you crawled out of bed and slipped on Dean's jacket, it hung loosely on your figure, the length going past your shorts and the sleeves being far too long. You were glad for the added warmth because you were freezing. 

You were absolutely craving fried chicken and you dug through the mini fridge wholeheartedly expecting to find some, when the disappointment hit you, you left the room and went into Sam and Dean's room, letting yourself in with the spare key you had been given. 

You began to dig through their refrigerator in the dark, expecting to find some chicken but when you heard a gun click and the light flipped on, you spun around, met by Dean in his underwear and Sam shuffling in moments later with his blanket wrapped around him.

“What the hell are you doing” Dean asked 

“I want fried chicken so bad” you complained 

“Why would we have fried chicken?” Dean asked, still groggy and confused. 

“I don’t know I just wanted to check” you told him 

Sam laughed at the interaction, telling Dean he shouldn’t have let you drink so much before he headed back to his bed. 

“I promise I will get you fried chicken in the morning but please go back to bed” Dean told you 

“You look cute in your undies” you giggled 

“And you look cute in my jacket now go to bed” he mimicked your giggle. 

You agreed but not before you made him promise to get you your food in the morning, you made him lock pinkies with you despite his complaints of annoyance. 

You made your way back to your room and quickly fell asleep again. 

The next morning was hell, Bobby woke you up around 8 and you were met with a headache and a need for water. The second you stood up you found yourself running to the bathroom as a nauseating feeling built in your throat. 

You heard Sam and Dean talking as you were throwing up the memories of last night. Both of them asking how you were doing, and Bobby explaining you were currently throwing up, expecting an explanation from Dean as to why. 

Dean ducked out of the conversation “I’m going to get her water and hold her hair back, like a man does” he walked into the bathroom and gave a small chuckle at your figure hunched over the toilet. 

“Do not fucking laugh at me” you groaned 

“You still want that fried chicken” he asked, and you gagged at the thought, he grabbed you a cup of water to rinse your mouth out with and handed you the toilet paper you had been previously admiring to wipe your mouth off with. 

You wiped the sweat from your forehead and the tears from your eyes before standing up to brush your teeth. 

“You still gotta work today you know” Dean told you 

you rolled your eyes at him and after you had finished brushing your teeth you said “I’ll survive, I can tolerate sitting and reading, you have to go fight the things” 

You and Dean joined Bobby and Sam, Sam having told Bobby about you breaking into their room. You were expecting to get your ass chewed out but all you got from Bobby was “Kid I’m glad you had fun, you need to loosen up sometimes, but we still need your help today, so I expect your best” 

You agreed and gave him a quick hug before setting up a spot to research on the desk in the room. 

Sam and Dean left to put on formal clothes as they were posing as detectives and had to look the part. They returned to the room after changing. 

“Don’t you boys look handsome” you said with a grin 

“We have to be believable” Dean grumbled 

“I’m being serious, you look nice” you smiled “I’m going to look for potential demonic activity in other areas, call me if you need anything” 

“Will do sweetheart” Dean replied 

“Thanks for all your help y/n, we’ll pick you up some fried chicken on our way back” Sam grinned 

Your stomach churned at the thought of eating anything but maybe you’d change your mind later in the day, so you didn’t shut him down. 

As the three were turning to leave you said “by the way Dean, I do still feel like that” earning a grin from him and his head flooding with thoughts of what he could do to you when he got back. 

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