🗡️h0llowhailey💫

she/her, they/them 🌙🪴A slut for ff and art of my favs 🥀🪐 fanfic page - @h0llowheretic

[h0llowhailey]

BRING BACK VALKO WTF

[t0jisbunny]

olderbf! toji fucks you to sleep ♡︎

mdni. themes; age gap, toji x female reader, slow sex, sleepy sex, spooning, cockwarming, creampie.

some nights you got so restless that it was unbearable. you lay there for hours on end, squeezing your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to drift off to sleep — seemingly having no luck.

even wrapped in your older boyfriend’s arms, it was impossible some nights. tonight being one of them.

toji’s firm chest was pressed against your back, one strong arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close. he’d fallen asleep over an hour ago, leaving you wide awake and bored out of your mind.

unfortunately for toji, he was a light sleeper most of the time, constantly alert or on guard. so of course, he feels you squirm against him, sighing loudly as you somewhat give up on trying to sleep.

toji furrows his brows, opening one eye, easily woken up by your movements. “quit movin’," he grumbles, pulling his arm around you tighter, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“mm, can’t sleep," you respond, exhaling loudly again. toji drifts back to sleep easily, leaving you restless and bored once more.

you adjust your position, pushing your ass against him further. it was innocent enough at first, until you instinctively started grinding back against him, feeling his dick harden more and more with each movement.

toji’s eyes open again, a low groan escaping him as you continue to move your hips. “needy girl, need me t’ fuck you back to sleep? that what you want?"

his voice was deep and gravelly, slightly raspy from having just woken up — the sound only makes your cunt throb impatiently, desperate to be filled by toji’s thick cock.

"mngh, please—" you whine, feeling him begin to kiss the side of your neck lazily, hands making their way up your his oversized shirt. "yeah, i know, baby," he mumbles against your neck, squeezing your tits using two hands before trailing them lower, reaching your pussy.

you were already completely soaked.

something about the way his warm body pressed against you, hands exploring your body whilst he was half asleep, had you needier than ever.

he circles your clit lazily with two fingers, then plunges them into your cunt, curling them upwards so skilfully — so deliciously.

“fuck, don’t even need t’ warm you up. pretty cunts’ already drippin’ for me, huh?"

you nod feverishly, tilting your head back against his shoulder, giving him access to your throat as he withdraws his fingers, making you mewl from the loss of sensation.

"need it, please — now," you beg quietly, hearing him shimmy his sweatpants down, thick, throbbing cock slapping against your ass.

"shhh, s’okay. gonna give it to you," toji coos, lining his leaky tip up with your entrance.

without wasting a second, he pushes in, groaning sleepily into your ear as he bottoms out inside of you. you gasp quietly, beginning to rock against him, fucking yourself on his dick.

he places one hand on your hip, the other making its way around to rub slow circles over your clit.

“stay still, doll. just relax f’me, let me do the work," he rasps, rolling his hips against you, effortlessly hitting all the right spots.

you moan breathily, shutting your eyes as he fucks you to sleep. “mph, toji— feels s’good," you moan, opening your legs slightly wider, granting him more access.

“that’s my good girl, squeezin’ me so tight," he purrs.

you rarely saw this side of him when it came to intimacy. slow, gentle — deep strokes that had your eyes rolling back.

it was heaven on earth.

his thrusts remained unhurried, though his fingers quickened their pace, circling your swollen bud. "m’so— aghnn— close," you moan, becoming more fatigued with each dizzying roll of his hips.

“cum f’me, baby. thereee we go."

with a few more deep thrusts, the tension within you snaps, you clench around his cock, whimpering his name and clenching the sheets below you.

“gonna fill you up, keep you— hah— nice n’ full all night," he groans, spilling his load into your warm cunt seconds after.

based on how quiet and boneless you were, he assumed you’d fallen asleep. he doesn’t pull out, leaving both his warm load and fat cock stuffed inside you until the morning.

he presses one last kiss to your neck, then passes out soon after, cock beginning to soften inside you.

A/N; i’m writing so much atm holy shit

m.list

[h0llowhailey]

OH WOWWWWWW DHDUDRHCURJGJDJCURJFDJDU

[luhuala]

An inkscape

[medicli]

ZAYNE is overworked and underfucked — mdni

cw. #dryhumping

zayne had a rough day at work—so many patients, too much paperwork, an excruciating surgery in between—he was absolutely beat. so when he trudges through the door with his tie loosened and very prominent bags under his eyes on his otherwise perfect skin, you tell him to go sit on the couch and relax while you finish whipping up dinner. 

he wants nothing more than to shower the day off of him and crawl into bed with his wife, but you insist he needs to eat—the same way he would if it were you in his shoes. and because he can’t resist you—especially when you’re wearing a cute little apron—he begrudgingly obliges, letting his bag hit the ground and slumping on the couch, a single button on his crisp shirt unbuttoned showing off a beautiful sliver of skin. 

he throws his head back and pinches the bridge of his nose, thinking of anything to take his mind off his grueling work, and he’s successful when his mind finally lands back on you. his sweet, sweet wife. 

he tries to keep his thoughts innocent… tries not to think about you in your little apron looking like you came straight out of a male fantasy. tries not to think about all the things he could do to you. tries so hard not to think about how you could take care of his cock—the very same that’s growing harder and harder in his confined slacks. 

he’s tired—can barely move, and yet, he still calls you to him.

“sweetheart,” his voice gruff, carrying a slight rasp as he beckons you. “c’mere please.”

a frown etches itself on your face, walking your way to him from the kitchen. “baby, ‘m almost done with din–”

you don’t get the chance to finish your complaint when he’s pulling you by the arm into his lap. a soft gasp leaves your lips at the sudden movement. then you’re settled, straddling the large expanse of his lap and you feel it. 

he wraps his arms around your body, flushing you against his chest. his lips press against the shell of your ear and he whispers, “don’t care about dinner, just let me hold my wife, yeah?”

he swears it’s all he needs—to hold you close and inhale your scent—but his pulse is racing and blood roars in his ears all due to sheer desire and he can’t stop himself from shifting his hips the slightest bit. 

you feel that, too. it elicits a sharp gasp. 

you can almost hear the small smirk forming on his lips, “how was your day, beautiful?” he murmurs, hands moving to your hips. 

and his movements are so calculated. from the way he ever so gently grounds you into him to the way his breath fans against your ear sending shivers down your spine. 

“was fine…” you mumble, unable to stop the way you shift in his lap, body begging for more attention. “missed you.”

“yeah?” he asks, his voice is low and nearly unrecognizable. “missed you s’much more, my love. been waiting for this moment all day.” 

you pull back slightly to look into his eyes. they’re tired. exhausted even, but they still hold that fire. that pure, burning desire. they’re his fuck me eyes. and, god, do you love them.

“zaynie,” you whisper, unable to trust your shaky voice. 

he hums, and the soft, pitched noise has you leaking through your bottom, probably leaving a wet patch right on his pants. “tell me, sweetheart.” his hands squeeze at your sides and his hips slowly, but surely, roll into you. "what did you do today?"

you whimper, pussy clenching around nothing. "mmph, not much…" another roll, evoking another wet gasp. "fuck, just… cleaned, w-went on a walk—" he's pushing against you deeper now. you feel the outline of his cock push into you with every not-so-little thrust. "s-saw, saw that stray kitty in the park again."

"mmm, we should really take her in, shouldn't we?" he breathes, cock twitching at the sound of your voice breaking with every grind.

"zaynie," your hands grip his shoulders, pulling him back so you can look at him. his face is flushed, pink blooming over his cheeks and spreading to the tips of his ears. you gyrate against him, pulling a breathy moan from your husbands hung open mouth. "dinner's gonna burn."

"let it burn then." he says, the words coming out in a hiss. "need my wife—we can order takeout later, i'll even cook, don't care. let me just have you like this first." 

a beg. to the untrained ear, you can't hear it, but you know zayne like the back of your hand. you know that heat curls in his stomach, that tension lies in every bone in his body, that pure desire is the only thing he feels right now. the need to be close to you is strong, but the need to be fully sheathed inside you, fucking you till he's completely stress free and you're completely full of his cum is much, much stronger. 

it's why all the fatigue evaporates and he can't stop himself from flipping you onto the plush couch— rubbing into you you like he might die without feeling the outline of your pussy through your soddened panties and leggings . he can't even be bothered to rid you of your clothes… he craves the release. he needs it more than anything. needs you more than anything.

you let out a pathetic needy sob, overly worked up by him fucking you through your clothes. "z-zayne, more—ugh, need more. t-take it off, please." 

his cock twitches helplessly at the sound. it's what he's been missing while drowning in work for hours on end. 

"sweetheart," he moans brokenly. "promise i'll fuck you just the way you like—just need you to take this first. you can do that for me, can't you?" he whispers and the word shoot an immense amount of heat straight to your core. "you can be a good little wife, right, darling?"

you can never say no to him, especially when he talks to you like that. you respond wordlessly, giving your husband what he wants—no, what he needs—and wrap your legs securely around his slim waist. 

"that's it, good girl." and the way zayne sounds is the polar opposite of the weight of his words. his voice is frayed, desperate. "f-feels, ha, feels so good like this, yeah?" 

his hips move faster, imitating the way they would if he were actually inside of you fucking you with full force. your body rocks with every thrust, every grind, your tits bounce underneath your apron, the couch—even as firm as it sits—sways with you in tandem.

it goes on and on. endless, whiny praises from him, sobbing pleas from you, your bodies rubbing against one another effectively ruining his dry-clean-only slacks till you finally feel that tight knot form in your lower belly. 

and he's close, too, but zayne's been close to coming undone—he just didn't want to let go without you. 

it happens so quickly that you barely have the time to process it. "baby, baby," you gasp, nerve-endings coming alive while your heart pounds at the speed of light. "'m—oh, fuck, baby. 'm cumming, cumming, cumming."

"cum with me, sweet girl." he wheedles, never losing his momentum for a second. he grinds you both through it till he feels your body pull taut underneath him. till you're shaking and sobbing and clinging onto him for dear life. 

then he stills and his orgasm is explosive. he's vocal, moaning out your name mixed with all the sweet pet names he's given you. his cum leaks through his boxers and said dry-clean-only slacks, beading out of the fabric in a taboo, yet very erotic way. 

it takes you both minutes to come down till the smell of burning food fills your nostrils.

then you hear the unmistakable beeping of the fire alarm.

"oh, shit."

KIT SAYS... they took my yaoi/bl app away from me. if you guys know where i can read my yaoi ad free, email me. (dm me or send me an ask, I'm begging i need to fujo out over hot men that kiss) oh and this isn't proofread lol

© all works belong to MEDICLI 2026. do not copy or repost.

[zaynezone]

i just busted all over the screen holy shit

[zaynezone]

You should've known you wouldn't be able to hide it.

"Why are you limping?"

Zayne has been home from his two week business trip all of 4 minutes, and you've already been found out. You do your best to smile reassuringly, but you know he can sense the guilt. Curse him and his incredible ability to read you.

"Before you freak out, I'm fine. It's just...a minor sprain. No big deal!" Your words apparently mean nothing, because you blink and he's lifting you into the air, carrying you to the couch.

"Wh-come on Zayne I'm fine! I can still walk!" You complain, but you go quiet seeing the look on his face. Almost shell-shocked, the concern so clearly etched as he gently sets you down and kneels to inspect your ankle.

"You shouldn't walk on it." He moves your foot, murmuring an apology when you wince in pain.

"Greyson said I-I could after a week." Zayne pauses, glancing up at you in confusion. You press your lips together, cursing yourself for speaking without thinking. Poor Greyson. You'll send him an apology for how rough his Monday is going to be.

"When exactly did this happen?" He's clearly upset, but it's outweighed by his concern as he forms an ice pack with his evol and holds it to your skin.

"Oh! Um about two days after you left? I didn't want to worry you! I knew it'd be a while before you got back. The last thing I wanted was for you to be distracted thinking of me." He clenches his jaw, setting the ice aside and moving to sit next to you.

Zayne has never been good at hiding his worry from you. Even now, despite his disappointment that you'd spent the past two weeks lying to him, it's clear he's more concerned with you than anything.

"I am always distracted thinking about you. I'm quite adjusted to the feeling. Please...don't hide these things from me."

"Okay. I won't, I promise. Will you lay down with me now? We have two weeks of cuddling to catch up on."

[mrskennedih]

Who made that ? I need to thank them in person.😫

[h0llowheretic]

𝘿𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝘿𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧 <3

synopsis: You go out to the club with your friends and a creepy man wont take a hint. DD Sylus to the rescue!

wc: 4.4k

tags: established relationship, protective Sylus, domestic fluff, drunk!reader, hunter!reader (only briefly mentioned), violence (inflicted slightly on reader but mostly non-main characters), creepy man, etc

an: one of my favorite things about Sylus is how non-controlling he is. Like he's like please go out and have fun wherever you want and make sure to spend all of my money. god I love him. Happy (very late oh my god) Birthday, Sylus! <3 (This is the first fanfiction ive ever posted and I haven't written in years go easy on meeeee)

The faux leather of the barstool sticks to your thighs as you throw back what you think might be your third shot of the night. Not including the multiple drinks you had downed earlier. You honestly haven't been keeping track. As the liquor burns a path down your throat, you look around the crowded room.

The room is bathed in hues of pink and purple, blending together like a sunset as bright pulsing lights spin around the room. They momentarily blind you every once in a while when they move across your eyes and you eventually lift your arm to cover them. The nightclub you're at was pretty popular and had opened up recently. The crowd was evident of that. People cover the dance floor, swaying and girating to the upbeat hyperpop that pounds out of the speakers. Past the crowd, you could see various seating areas full of even more people at rounded tables and couches with plush seating.

Your friends must still be in the crowd. But no matter how much you look around you can't find them. Before coming over to the bar you'd been dancing for what felt like hours, buzzed and content. That was until your feet started aching from dancing around in your heels and the alcohol was making you unsteady. You'd almost fallen onto the floor at one point and your friends urged you to take a break before you fully face-planted. Instead of sitting down and sobering up, you were now back at the bar, downing shots and putting away a heaping plate of loaded nachos like it was your job. You were intending to take Sylus up on his earlier request.

Your boyfriend had given you his card before you went out for the night. After he'd stopped to admire you in your short dress and stilletos, he handed the black metal card after pullin you close to his chest. He insisted you spend egregious amounts of his money and have fun. He also added in a serious tone that he was more than willing to be your designated driver at the end of the night.

Sylus was so different from your past relationships. Your previous boyfriend was so controlling and loved to comment and monitor everything about your life. He had especially enjoyed telling you what you couldn't wear out and called you horrible names when you wouldn't listen. That relationship had crashed and burned quickly. But Sylus was the complete opposite. He loves spoiling you with his money and attention and always admires the outfits you pick out instead of judging them. He never tries to hold you back or control your decisions. You feel free with him. God, you love him.

You found yourself wishing he was there as the liquid of another drink burns its way down your throat and settles with a warmth in your stomach. When you can't find your friends after looking over the crowd for the millionth time, you give up. Instead you choose to glance at your phone while you sigh and set the empty shot glass back on the countertop of the bar. A notification is lit up on your lockscreen (one of you, Sylus, and Mephisto), sent only minutes ago. You cant help but smile at your phone like an idiot as you message him back.

Sylus <3: Having fun, sweetheart?

You: yesssss eating nchos at the bar. Wish you wer hear.

Sylus <3: Already drunk I see. how did you manage to misspell "here"?

You: atocorrect

Sylus <3: I'm sure it was. Scratch the "I can pick you up if you want me to" now you have no option. Let me know when you are ready to go home and I'll be there.

You pocket your phone after telling him you will and sending a bunch of hearts.

"Can I buy you a drink, beautiful?"

The voice jolts you out of the warm bubble of texting Sylus. Like a bucket of ice water has just been poured on your head. Whoever it was is way too close to your ear for comfort. Close enough that you feel their hot breath on the back of your neck.

As you turn to look behind you, you feel a hand move to the small of your back.

Revulsion coils in your stomach immediately at the man looking down at you. Hungry. As if you are a piece of meat on a stick he wanted to sink his teeth into. You also don't miss the way he openly stares down to the cleavage spilling out of your dress. Typical. His intentions are so obvious he might as well be holding a sign reading "let me fuck."

With a grimace, you pull away quickly and try to get a safe distance away from him. You slide out of your seat when you recoil, his hand thankfully leaving you. What the fuck was his problem touching you so casually like that?

The man has a forgettable face. He is likely in his forties, with dark blonde hair thinning at the top, straight nose, and protruding beer belly. He's also wearing a rumpled suit and loosened tie that looks like it had never seen an iron. Probably a work uniform he didn't bother to change out of before going to the club. He seems like one of those guys that don't understand what personal space is at all. It's very apparent from his persistent touch in his first words to you. And the way he moves closer when you step away from him.

You honestly hadn't wanted to come to the club tonight. It hadn't been your idea of going out. What you really wanted was to just get dinner at a quieter venue while you caught up with your friends you hadn't seen in a while. But your friend Tara had just gotten a promotion at work so you couldn't say no to going out and celebrating with them. Her way of celebrating happened to be expensive alcohol at a club with music that was a little too loud and flashing lights that were way too bright. Now you wish you would have just stuck with them instead of wanting to sit down by yourself for a minute.

"I'm good. Thanks." You slur as you yell over the music. You didn't want to be rude but you also weren't a fan of the casual way he was touching you. Fuck that.

"Come on. I can buy you and your friends another round." He smirked, looking a lot more predatory than the charming smile he was probably going for. So he had been watching you and your friends for a while then, huh? What a weirdo.

"We're good..Speaking of my friends I'm gonna go find them. Have a good one." You give him an uncomfortable smile before you turn towards the dance floor. You focus your entire energy on not falling on your ass as you walked away and somehow manage to stay upright. As you tilt and sway, you could feel his eyes boring into your back the entire way to the dancefloor. Creepy.

When you finally find Tara and your other friends, you decide to put the creepy man to the back of your mind and just have fun. You thought about telling them but didn't want to ruin their mood. You weren't going to let a man ruin your night, especially with just one encounter. You laugh and dance together for a few more songs, swaying to the music as you hug each other and scream the lyrics of your favorite songs in each others faces. Every once in a while you get a feeling of being watched but decide to brush it off. At that point you were having such a good time, the alcohol making you feel euphoric and loose, that you forget about the man entirely.

After dancing for what felt like an eternity but in reality was probably only an hour, you are exhausted. Thoughts of going home and falling asleep in your bed with Sylus was so appealing suddenly. So much so that it had your eyes drooping a little and a goofy smile tugging at your lips.

You say goodbye to your friends, telling them you're turning in "early", despite it already being one in the morning, and congratulate Tara on her promotion again before heading towards the entrance of the club. On the way over, you retrieve your phone out of your dress pocket. When you pull up Sylus's contact, the feeling of eyes watching you returns. You want to ignore it and at first you try to, but it persists. With a deep sigh, you give in and look around. After a moment you spot the man from before staring you down from a few feet away. He's still beside the bar and holds a drink in his hands, slurring a drink quickly through a straw and staring you down like he's stalking prey.

Immediately you avert your eyes. Fuck. Please don't come over please don't come over please dont come over. You repeat it in your head like a mantra as that feeling of revulsion returns, turning the alcohol sour in your stomach. You continue walking, more like staggering, further to the entrance as you dial your boyfriend's number and pray that the man doesn't follow you.

Sylus picks up immediately, and you smile at how predictable he is. No matter what he was in the middle of, he would always drop it when you called. It was sweet.

"Hello, Kitten." You could hear the easy smile in his voice, the nickname he purrs that used to annoy you now causes a kaleidoscope of butterflies to flutter violently in your stomach.

"Hi Sy… will you come pick me up? If you arent busy..." Your words are very obviously slurred and anxious. You lean against the wall as you talk to him, cheeks heating as his voice soothes you a little. No matter how much you talk to your boyfriend, he barely has to do anything for you to get flustered around him. Your mood is ruined however when you glance back and still see the persistant eyes of the man across the room.

"Of course, sweetie. I'll be on my way now. Is everything alright?"

You knew he could hear in your voice that something was wrong. He had always been so good at reading you. like a favorite book he'd read until the spine was soft from every page turn. Every slight shift in mood he recognized immediately. Like the time you'd tried to hide a wound from him. You had gotten it from a wanderer that caught you off guard on a mission. It was a lot worse than you let on and you even hid it from your team and supervisor. But it only took one look at you across the room for him to know you were hurt. Even when you thought you had done a great job hiding it from his watchful gaze.

"Yeah!" you sputter, trying to sound casual. But then you give up pretty easily, sighing. What was the point of hiding from him?

"Um….its just that this man that kept trying to buy me a drink earlier is staring me down right now and he's really creeping me out."

"Are you okay? Did he try anything with you?" You could tell the smile had slipped off his face and his words were coated with concern and an razors edge of quiet anger

"Nonono. I walked away from him pretty quickly after he offered but now he's just staring at me from across the bar…he's being so creepy."

"I'll be there in a few minutes, darling. I'll come get you and escort you to the car." You could hear the edge in his voice, while still keeping it soft for you. He was instantly pissed a man was bothering you when you were trying to have a good time.

you exchange "I love you's" before hanging up the phone. You are just about to head outside when you realize something. You tried to adjust your bag on your shoulder out of habit, but after a moment you realize it's not on your shoulder. You furrow your brow in confusion while trying to not panic and remember where you might have laid it down.

That's when it dawns on you. Fuck. you are pretty sure you left it at the bar earlier. Right where that man still was, eyeing you.

This can't be happening. Of all the things to happen to you, it had to be this. You didn't want to have to interact with this creeper again but you weren't leaving without your bag.

You square your shoulders, resigning yourself to your fate. You had a lot in your bag that you didn't want to part with. Like the card Sylus gave you to go out tonight. There was no way you could face him if you lost it. Yes, it would be nothing for him to replace it but you hate the thought of inconveniencing him.

Sighing, you focused your gaze on the bar as you walked over. You keep a look out for your bag and you're about to ask the bartender if he'd seen it. But it didn't take long for mr creeper to walk over to you.

"There you are. Ive been trying to get your attention from across the room for a while. Looking for this?" The man stands in front of you, clutching the straps of your bag in his fist.

Relief washes through you that it wasn't stolen but it's diluted with a giant dose of apprehension. For a split second you thought maybe you had read the situation wrong. That he was just staring you down and working up the courage to go give you your purse back….? Yeah..even as you thought it over you realized that was unlikely.

"You're a lifesaver. Thanks." You try to keep your tone light and not let any wariness enter it. You reach out for your purse, because his hand isn't outstretched to give it you, when he quickly snatches it awa, a playful smirk on his face.

"ah ah ah. You can have your purse back when you actually have a full conversation with me, beautiful. You've probably spoken, what, less than 15 words to me all night?"

Before, you were creeped out. But now you were just pissed. Why couldn't this man just understand you didn't want him? What gave him the right to your words or your time?

"Sorry? I don't need to do anything. Give me my purse back. Now." you're still very drunk and swaying but you keep grabbing for the purse as he moves it around out of reach from you each time. What a manchild.

After a few second of fumbling around like an idiot, you finally wrench the purse from his grasp. When you do, he grabs your arm hard, almost bruising. Then he pulls you towards him.

"Come on don't be like that, let me buy you a drink and get to know you better, huh doll?" You writhe against his hold and can smell alcohol coating his rancid breath.

"I'm not your doll. I'm taken and I don't want you. Take a hint, asshole. Let go of me!" You pull against his arm but he still doesn't budge. He has a malicious glint in his eyes now. The facade of niceties has faded and he stares at you coldly, grip tightening even more. What the fuck is wrong with him?

"Let go of my girlfriend. Now." A familiar voice rips through the air like a speeding bullet. You look back to see Sylus standing behind you, bathed in the strobing colors of the club lights. You breathe a sigh of relief. Thank god.

"I didn't know she was taken. We were just having a little fun, im sure you understand." He is still gripping your arm hard and you are tugging against him still in a frantic effort to get away. His clammy grip on your arm was definitely going to leave a bruise and was making you want to throw up in disgust and start to panic.

"I believe she just told you. But that has nothing to do with her not wanting scum like you. As I said, let her go." The usual smirk he wore on his face was nowhere to be seen. Instead it was replaced by a look of calm rage so scary that the man stiffened a bit and loosened his hold.

Tendrils of red and black suddenly surround you and wrap around the man's hand, wrenching him off of you harshly. The smoky wisps curl around your arm in a caress, soothing the marks left behind by the man's fingers that had dug into your skin. It makes you smile a little. A power so deadly treating you with such care. After a moment, the wisps leave you and instead wrap tighter around the mans hand.

Finally free, you stumble over to Sylus quicky while you huff a breath in relief. He pushes you behind him with one hand, positioning himself between you and the man. With him in front of you, the man's eyes are unable to bore into you fully like before.

"How dare you touch her."

Suddenly, you hear a sickening crunch as the man's hand jerks into various unnatural angles. The scream of agony that rips from his throat is loud even when muffled by the blaring music. His wrist must be shattered. You honestly cant say you feel bad for him after the shit he pulled, though.

Sylus turns to leave, satisfied with the man's pain as he starts to pull you with him

"Wait." you sway on your feet before sylus steadies you. You brush him off after a second, walking towards the man instead of towards the exit. He looks at you with a mix of pain and confusion as you approach.

Without a word you square your shoulders before rearing back and striking forward with your fist. Your knuckles collide with the mans cheekbone. The contact causes his head to crack backward and he falls to the floor. His eyes are bewildered as he clutches his destroyed wrist to his chest while groaning in pain from the attack. He cowers, waiting in case another blow comes.

"Fuck you."

You turn around and shake your hand out, fist shooting sparks of pain up your wrist from the force of the punch. God, that hurt.

When you look up you notice Sylus looking at you with a little suprise and pride shining in his crimson eyes. His usual smirk has returned and is full of amusement as he holds his arm out for you.

"Well, well. My kitten has claws. Even after way too much to drink."

"Can we go home now, Sy?" People are now openly staring, fear in their eyes at the scene the three of you just created.

"Of Course. After you, sweetie." He sweeps his arm out, waiting to follow your lead. When you start forward you notice the death glare he shoots back at the man over his shoulder. You cant help but feel butterflies at how protective he is.

When he finally gets you into his passenger seat, he reaches over you to buckle your belt while pressing a kiss onto your forehead.

"Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine. But my arm is definitely gonna bruise…" you say the last part under your breath but he still hears the words. He lifts your arm for him to look you over. At closer examination there are faint marks already bruising where the mans fingers dug into your skin. His eyes widen slightly before hardening into that same deadly look from inside the club. His posture stiffens.

"Im going back. He's not going to be breathing when i'm through with him."

You grab his arm before he can turn. "Sylus no. Lets just leave. I just want to go home" the words leave your mouth as a whine. You are exhausted from a night drinking, dancing, and having to deal with a man that can't take no for an answer. You honestly wouldn't be mad if the man was "taken care of" in that moment, but you didn't want Sylus to make even more of a scene. Those poor people at the club would be traumatized for life if he got his way.

He looks at you like he wants to argue but after a moment of staring into your eyes and seeing the exhaustion there, he decides to honor your wishes and nods. "Alright. Lets get you home, then."

When you pull up to the base in the N109 zone, he opens your door and holds out his hand for you. You take it and step out of the car, trying to stand flat on your feet before pitching forward. Your balance has somehow gotten worse on the drive home. There is an amused chuckle from Sylus as his arm wraps around your stomach before you can fall face first in his driveway. He pulls you back up, hand sliding to your hip while he tucks you against him.

"I got you. Tell me. How much did you drink?"

"Ummmm……I kinda stopped counting a while ago…"

"Can I have a range at least, Kitten? I have to know what I'm working with." His cologne smells of bergamot, cardamom, and leather. The perfect combination that you drink in every time you're near him. It smells like home to you. And it makes it hard to listen to anything he's saying with your body against his and his attentive gaze drinking you in.

"Kitten…focus" He purrs, snapping you back to his question. He repeats it patiently when he realizes you aren't paying attention.

"Maybe..four drinks…. and a few shots?"

"Impressive."

Probably realizing that there was no way you were about to walk to the door on your own, Sylus has a better idea. You try to walk after he has steadied you, you really do. But you don't get very far. You cant help but stumble forward before he catches up to you in a couple easy strides.

"Where do you think you're going?"

With a squeak of suprise from you, one arm wraps around the back of your knees and you are lifted into his arms. Like you weigh less than a feather. In his other hand dangles your strappy heels that you had immediately kicked off when climbing into his car. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck like second nature.

"Insideeee." You whine, blinking heavily. Despite your protests, you dont try to get down. You are so tired and the thought of walking all the way through the base didn't sound appealing at all.

"Let me take care of you, my love. Why walk when you have a perfectly useful boyfriend to carry you instead?"

You dont protest, nodding after a moment and nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. This causes a happy chuckle to burst from his lips

"What am I gonna do with you?"

You bite your lip, thinking of a few things that he could do to you that you definitely would welcome. if you weren't so exhausted. Despite your weariness, your cheeks redden and he laughs again, the sound deep and rich.

"Did you spend a lot of my money tonight?" He purrs into your ear as he holds you closer. You nod again, thinking about all the drinks and food you got at the bar. You list off all you spent, making sure to tell him about the nachos that you definitely are returning for in the future.

"Good. Now lets get my sweet girl to bed, hmm?"

you giggle as you agree, smiling as you feel his lips warm on your cheek. All you wanted in that moment was to sleep in your warm bed with Sylus's arms around you.

He sets you down while he helps you into comfortable pajamas, despite your protests in having to be upright. After you are in way more comfortable clothes he lays you gently onto the bed pulls your covers up for you. He leaves for a moment and you miss his warmth as soon as he's gone. What can you say, you are a needy drunk.

When he returns, he convinces you to down an entire glass of cold water before tugging an expensive leather chair to your side of the bed. He produces a bottle of makeup remover and wipes and pushes your hair out of your face. With a steady hand, Sylus gently starts wiping your makeup off your skin. He has always loved taking your makeup off for you at the end of a night out, loving that he can help you relax and wind down after a long day.

The products he uses from your collection are expensive ones that you had never been able to afford before meeting him but always wanted. When you first got together and he learned that you really loved doing your skin care, he made notes of your skin type and all the things you liked. He took the time to research and buy you the most luxurious products on the market. He even got you a mini fridge when he found you liked to keep some of them cold.

You were always so in awe of how much he loved taking care of you. Even now he makes small affectionate cooing sounds and tells you how pretty you are as he rubs the lipstick off your lips with the warm cloth. All while your eyes flutter and you hold on to the sleeve of his shirt.

You drift in and out of sleep, feeling Sylus's gentle hands rubbing moisturizer in lazy circles into your makeup-free skin. letting out a content sigh, you wrap your hand gingerly around his wrist and plant a small kiss on the tips of his fingers.

Half-conscious and an eternity later (needy drunk again), you feel the mattress finally dip beside you and warm, muscular arms pull you into a familiar embrace. Sylus presses kisses into your hair as he breaths you in, happy to have you home and safe after what happened at the club.

"Goodnight, kitten. I'll make sure to help your through your hangover in the morning."

You make a sound in reply, nuzzling deeper into him. And as you fall asleep pressed against your boyfriend's chest, whispering i love you's to each other before drifting off, you can't help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

(Also that man's body is found days later btw :P)

[h0llowhailey]

My first fanfic :))

[gravesecret]

I know it's not Mermay yet, but I really wanted to draw some AU!Meruri, soo... <3

[h0llowhailey]

MY ERURI HEART AHHHHHHHHH (and I love mermen omggg)

[debt-to-the-devil]

You're pacing, your voice echoing off the minimalist walls of Sylus's bedroom as you recount the sheer monotony of your day. It was boring and endless, but now that you're finally here, the physical reality of him is making it worse. Your hormones are a mess, leaving you restless and wanting. Leaving you frustrated at just how good Sylus looks.

He's leaning against the edge of his bed, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you with an intensity that makes your skin tingle. He looks almost amused, which adds to your frustration.

"It's just not fair." You mutter, stopping right in front of him. You have to tilt your head back just to meet his eyes. "That you have to be so... huge."

Sylus shifts, raising an eyebrow. You don't miss the way his gaze drops down the length of your body before returning to your face.

"Huge?"

"You know what I mean. It's distracting and annoying." You huff, gesturing vaguely at the sheer span of his shoulders, the way he towers over you until all you can focus on is him. You purposely leave out the fact that you deeply enjoy how much bigger he is than you.

"Is it?" He steps right into your space, his big hands finding your hips. He easily guides you back, his crimson eyes never leaving yours until your thighs hit the edge of his heavy obsidian desk.

"I thought you enjoyed feeling delicate and small underneath my hands."

"That's... not the point." You mumble, but your protest is weak.

Sylus doesn't give you the chance to argue further. In one fluid motion, he spins you around, one hand moving to your back as he presses your chest down against the cool surface of the desk. Before you can try and squirm away, maybe wiggle free and accuse him of being a massive tease, his hand is sliding up further.

His fingers tangle in your hair, gripping firmly at the roots. He tugs your head back, not painfully, but with enough strength that you're forced to look up. Forced to look directly into the floor-to-ceiling mirror positioned just across from the desk.

You can't remember when he'd bought it. You didn't care. Your brain was actively short-circuiting at the sight of him looming just behind you, tall and intimidating and devastatingly handsome. You look so fragile pinned beneath him, your body almost entirely covered by his massive silhouette.

"Tell me again how unfair it is." He commands, his voice a low, lazy drawl that has you shivering against the wood of his desk.

"Tell me you hate how easily I can break you."

You can't find the words. You can only watch in the mirror as he leans down, his mouth brushing your ear while his eyes remain locked on your reflection. With your chest pressed to the desk and your vision fixed on the mirror, any ounce of logic within your mind evaporates. Your body, fueled by the heat of ovulation and a desperate, needy ache, decides to stop pretending you aren't right where you want to be.

You let out a shaky breath, and before you can think better of it, your hips move. You grind right back into him, instinctively seeking him out, watching his reflection as his gaze drops down to your hips. You hear the sharp, sudden intake of his breath. His approval.

Sylus's grip on your hair relaxes, but before you can press your cheek against his desk, his fingers wrap firmly around your throat. You nearly moan at the sensation of his big hand around you, but you bite it back at the last second.

"Look at you." He purrs as he presses closer to you, grinding his clothed cock right against your ass. You finally do let out a quiet noise, your breath hitching each time his body presses your hips further against the edge of his desk.

The friction is enough to drive you insane. With every slow, deliberate roll of your hips, you feel the heavy, unyielding weight of him through the layers of your clothes. You're chasing that pressure, chasing the feeling of his cock, even through denim and leather. It doesn't matter to you. Any sort of friction is good enough.

You watch in the reflection as Sylus clenches his jaw, a flicker of satisfaction crossing your features for just a second. Maybe now he can suffer just like you're suffering. But then you feel it. As you push back, harder this time, you feel the unmistakable, rigid length of his cock pressed firmly against your ass. A soft, broken whimper escapes you.

"Sylus..." You whine, your nails digging into the wood of his desk. You're dripping, absolutely soaked, your cunt clenching around nothing at the sheer anticipation of feeling him stretch your pussy. You want him. You don't care how pathetic it makes you.

The way you're unraveling under his touch is clearly the highlight of his night. You can see that smug triumph written all over his face as you watch his reflection, your body trembling against him.

"So desperate to be filled by me that you've forgotten how to breathe." He mocks. The humiliation should sting, but it only sends a sharp jolt through your body, your thighs squeezing together to try at any ounce of friction. You let out another whimper, silently pleading for him to stop talking and start doing.

He lets out a huff of amusement as he tilts your head to the side, his large body nearly covering yours as he leans down to press his lips to your neck. His teeth graze against your skin in a sharp nip that sends a fresh wave of arousal through you.

"Keep those eyes on the mirror, kitten."

Then his hands are releasing you only to move to your waistband. You don't dare look away from the mirror, eyes fixated on him even as his fingers effortlessly pop the button of your jeans. He doesn't make you wait as he shoves the denim down your legs, letting the fabric bunch around your knees.

He straightens behind you, one large hand planted firmly between your shoulder blades to keep you pinned while the other skims over the damp fabric of your panties. He lets out a low, amused hum as his fingers trace the outline of your slick underwear, watching you tremble before his thumb finds your clit.

"Dripping for me already? You really are a mess." He says. You don't care. You're far too focused on the way his thumb circles your aching clit. He watches every little reaction of yours in the mirror, red eyes fixated on your face as you whimper and whine for him. It's ridiculous how badly you want him, but it only makes Sylus more smug.

He hooks a finger into your panties, but rather than take them off, he simply pulls the soaked fabric to the side. You watch him pull back, watch him suck in a breath at the sight of your glistening cunt. Then a shattered moan leaves you as a long finger is pushed into you.

You clamp down on him instantly, greedy and undeniably needy, trying to rock back into him. You need more. You don't care what he gives to you as long as it's more. Sylus lazily pumps his finger into you, slow and steady, feeling the way you so easily relax around him.

Then he gives you another one, curling his fingers against your velvety walls. You cry out, your hips jerking against him with every slow, deliberate drag of his fingers. You barely register the reflection in the mirror anymore.

"Sylus, please... Need more." You beg him.

That really gets his attention.

"You want more?" He echoes, amusement threading his tone. "You're already struggling with two fingers, kitten. Imagine how much trouble you're going to be in when I actually give you what you're asking for." Still, he's not one to deny you, especially when you're so wet and clenched around his fingers.

He continues those lazy, slow movements, pushing his fingers deep into you like he's searching for something. You open your mouth to beg him again, but all that comes out is a sharp, ragged moan as his fingers press into a particularly sensitive spot.

Your entire body jerks underneath him, earning a hum of acknowledgment from him. His free hand finds your hair once more, forcing your head back until you have no choice but to watch yourself in the mirror as his fingers press into that spot over and over and over again. If it wasn't for the desk, you suspect you might have stumbled. Your legs feel like jelly, your cunt clenched around him like you're trying to keep him there forever.

Just when he has you close, so stupidly close, he pauses. You whimper as he slides his fingers out, your hips tilting to try and follow him.

"Patience, kitten." Sylus purrs, smacking your ass with a sharp crack before he releases you. In the reflection, you can see his hands go to his leather pants. You watch as he undoes his belt, the metal clinking softly, the metallic drag of his zipper sending a shiver down your spine.

The moment he shoves his own pants down to free his fat cock, your breath hitches almost violently. He's so big, so thick, that for a moment, you wonder if you should have been more patient with his fingers.

But Sylus doesn't give you the chance to think too hard on it.

He steps closer to you, one palm pressed against the small of your back to hold you still while the other wraps around his cock. He guides the tip through your slick folds, brushing against your swollen clit until you're squirming and whimpering just underneath him.

Then he's pushing into your cunt, the stretch earning a loud, broken moan. Your hips rock back into him, pushing him impossibly deeper. Sylus groans at the feeling of your velvety walls clamping around him, clinging onto his cock like a vice.

The sensation is overwhelming. He's so big that it feels like he's taking up every bit of space you have to give, stretching you until you're sure you'll snap. You only want more. Your nails scrape against the obsidian desk, searching for a grip as he thrusts into you, his rhythm slow and punishingly deep.

"Look at how well you take me, kitten." He grunts, his voice strained and low as his hips rock into yours. He leans back, his gaze dropping to your cunt as he watches the way you grip onto him so tightly. You watch that cocky satisfaction cross his features within the mirror, your own breath coming in pathetic little hitches.

"I'm too big, right?" He mocks, slowly pulling back until his cock nearly slips out before slamming back into you, forcing a loud cry from your lips. "Isn't that what you were whining about?"

You can't even answer. You can only watch your own reflection in the mirror, your eyes blown wide and mouth hanging open in a silent scream of pleasure as he proves that you were made to take his cock. You feel so impossibly full and he's so deep, knocking right into your cervix with every roll of his hips.

Sylus isn't the least bit surprised when he feels you suddenly clamp down on him, your smaller body squirming against his desk. Your orgasm is intense, has you practically screaming his name as he fucks you like he's trying to break you. His gaze shifts to the mirror, watching as you squeeze your eyes shut, watching the way you grasp at the edge of his desk like it might help keep you stable.

He doesn't let up. If anything, his pace gets faster, deeper, more brutal, his balls smacking into your clit with every thrust. It's loud and sloppy, the sound of skin on skin echoing in his bedroom. He leans down, his chest pressed against your back, pinning you further to the desk, as his hand comes up to wrap around your throat once more.

You tremble around him, your head falling back against his shoulder as he holds you, your cunt weakly clenching around his cock. His hand tightens just a fraction around your throat, never to hurt, but to remind you exactly who owns this moment.

"Look at you taking every inch." He rasps, his voice broken and ragged.

"You were built for this, kitten. Built to be filled up and ruined by me." He groans, a low, guttural sound as his thrusts become shorter, harder, snapping your hips forward against the desk with every strike. "I'm going to fill you so deep you'll feel me in your dreams." His teeth nip at your shoulder before he tilts his head, his mouth finding your jaw.

With one final, punishing rock of his hips, he slams into you, his entire frame momentarily locking up. He curses under his breath as his hand moves to your shoulder then your hip, squeezing you as he cums deep inside your greedy cunt. You're sore, deliciously so, yet you roll your hips against him, velvety walls clenching around him just to feel the shudder that runs through his body.

"There." He finally mumurs, that lazy, arrogant drawl thicker than usual as he presses a kiss to your cheek. "Day fixed?"

All you can do is nod, your body slumping against his desk, deeply satisfied.

[zaynezone]

Zayne has just barely collapsed on the couch, still in his work clothes and tie tugged loose around his neck. So, you take your chance.

"Will you make me a cup of tea?"

He's already almost half asleep. His eyes open with a clear strain as he looks at you, curled up under the blanket with a book.

You're messing with him, of course. You expect him to catch on, to toss a cheeky remark at you like usual. You're not expecting him to wordlessly lift himself off the couch and begin trudging to the kitchen.

"Wh-Zayne! No no I was kidding!" He doesn't pay your words any mind as you struggle to kick aside the blanket, hurriedly trying to follow him.

"Chamomile, yes?" Of course, he already knows what flavour you prefer for your nightly reading. He pulls a bag from the drawer, but you grasp his wrist.

"I was just joking! Please go sit back down, you're exhausted and you've been on your feet all day." Now that you've gotten a closer look at him, the joke sits heavy in your stomach. The bags under his eyes have gotten worse, and his cheeks look more sunken in than usual.

"Let me make your tea." He mumbles, though he doesn't protest when you pull the bag from his fingers, setting it aside in favour of undoing his tie.

"I don't feel like tea anymore. Let's head up to bed, yeah?" His hands move from the counter to your waist, his whole body sinking into the embrace as his forehead rests on your shoulder. You hug him back, one hand stroking his back and the other sinking into the hair at the back of his head.

"Bed is a good idea." He whispers, voice already thick with exhaustion. You kiss his cheek, nudging him up just enough to have him follow you upstairs.

[h0llowhailey]

I love him so fucking much my bbg AHHHHHH why is he not real

[ballard96]

[strangeroffiction]

Take It On the Run

masterlist

pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: What you and Dean have is casual with no strings attached, so why do you get so upset when he shows interest in another woman?

Content warnings: smut, dissociation during sex, reader has less emotional intelligence than dean but we love her for it, mentions of bruising from sex, semi rough sex, doggy style, angst, kinda shameful feelings relating to sex, angst, cursing, lowkey self worth issues

wc: 5k

a/n: requests open!!! there most definitely will be a pt2!!

~~~

“You’re unbelievable.” 

Dean’s eyes move to the scowl on your face, cutting short his beholden gazing at the waitress’s ass. He’s entirely unapologetic to be caught staring. The fact that he looked at all irritates you, but him doing it so brazenly in front of you infuriates you so much you lose your appetite. 

“Easy there, tiger.” He says with an aloof smirk. “M’just appreciating the scenery, that’s all.” 

He’s allowed to appreciate whoever he wants. That’s not the problem. The problem is that it's happening in front of your face this time, and you dislike this pretty waitress a little extra. She’d been so focused on calling Dean sugar and sweetie that she’d brought you out the wrong eggs. You’d been surprised she remembered your order at all, with how little attention she paid you. 

You give Dean a sour smile. “Can you at least try to keep the drool to a minimum? I’m trying to eat.” Really, you’re just pushing the food around your plate. 

He watches you for a second, then he waves the tacky waitress back over, and you stop yourself from rolling your eyes. 

“What can I do for you, sugar?” She asks suggestively, only acknowledging Dean. 

“Sorry to bother you, sweetheart,” He apologizes with a charming grin. “My friend here ordered over-hard.” He gestures to the two eggs on your plate, which are very obviously undercooked. “Think you could run them back and get her new ones?”

“Of course,” The waitress smiles and then takes your plate without even looking at you. She seems delighted by Dean’s labeling of you as a friend. 

When she’s gone, Dean stares at you expectantly. You ignore him, so he says, “Y’know, it’s polite to thank someone when they do you a favor.” 

“How is wooing the waitress a favor for me?” 

“C’mon, we both know you won’t eat eggs like that. You don’t like when the yolk is runny.” He raises his eyebrows as if to say you know I’m right, why are you acting crazy. 

He is right. You think runny yolks are gross. In any other situation, you might even think the gesture was thoughtful, and that it showed that he paid more attention to you than you thought. But right now, you’re annoyed and dedicated to maintaining your attitude. So the most logical explanation for the whole thing is that Dean cared less about getting you what you could eat, anx more about about getting another view of the waitress walking away. 

“I’m not hungry, anyway.” You say. 

“You gotta eat. Y’need to keep your energy up after last night.” He winks at you like he’s sharing some inside joke, as if he’s totally oblivious to how exasperated you are. 

Him bringing that up irritates you even more, which you didn’t think would be possible. You look at your arrangement with Dean for what it is. You sleep together occasionally, partly because it's convenient and partly because he’s good at it. Scary good, sometimes. There’s no romance between you. The sex is hard and dirty. It’s not a situation you’re particularly proud of, especially when the nonchalant, non-committal nature of your relationship is thrown in your face, like it is right now. But the sex has proved too good to walk away from. The longer it's gone on, the more apathetic you’ve become to the arrangement, and Dean himself. You sometimes aren’t sure if you even like him. 

Sometimes, you wonder why you bother answering when he calls. The easy answer is that it’s safer for you as a lone female hunter to work with someone else watching your back, but you know that’s not the entire truth. There are a handful of other sole hunters and groups that you work with when you cross paths, but Dean is the only one you see so frequently. And the only one you sleep with. 

And you two certainly argue. A lot. It’s kind of your thing. Every so often, you team up to work cases, inevitably end up bickering, and then unavoidably end up fucking. The circle of life, as Dean would call it. He’s capable and reliable on a hunt, and you’d guess he felt the same about you, but once the job is done and all sexual frustrations are relieved, you don’t stick around. You don’t overstay your welcome or wait for Dean to ask you to leave. You find your next case and are gone by the next morning. He never asks you to stay. 

That’s how it works. Just a few days together and then you leave the man with the emotional capacity of a teaspoon in your rearview. 

Maybe the problem now is that you’d slept with him before finishing the case. So now there’s no avoiding him the morning after. Instead, there’s sitting at the dinghy town diner, forcing yourself to stomach breakfast while he openly lusts after another woman after being inside you not even twenty four hours ago. 

Not the best start to your day. 

“I could’ve handled it myself.” You snap. “I just didn’t want to get in the way of your eye fucking.” 

“How considerate of you.” He says flatly. “Really, what’s got you so pissed?” 

Literally everything you’re doing. But you say, “I’m not pissed.” 

“You sure? You’re looking at me like you wanna murder me.” 

You’re spared from having to answer when the waitress comes back, giving Dean big eyes as she sets the plate down in front of you. He smiles at her. 

He catches you glaring at him. “I’m just teasing you, sweetheart.” The corners of his lips twitch into a smirk. “Don’t you worry. You don’t have any competition.” 

You recoil. “That’s not- I’m not-” Stammering, you give him a look of disbelief. “I don’t care about competition. There is no competition, I mean.”

Dean smiles wider at your reaction. “Then what’s with the attitude?” 

You stare at him as he eats for a second, trying to formulate a thought that isn’t kick him hard in the shin under the table. “I always have an attitude.” 

“Ain’t that the damn truth.” He agrees around a mouthful. He swallows before continuing. “But you’re extra feisty today.” 

This time you give in to the urge to roll your eyes. You’re reaching your wits end and he’s smiling at you, acting like this is all a game for his entertainment. 

“I didn’t sleep well.” You say sharply. “I’m used to sleeping alone. You know, without someone taking up all the space in the bed.” You cross your arms over your chest. 

“I don’t think that’s it.” He muses, still smiling smugly. “Looked like you slept like a fuckin’ baby to me.” 

Your face heats up at that comment. You internally cringe as you're confronted with the thought of him perceiving you while you were asleep. It just feels like something too intimate for the insouciance between you. And even though Dean truly did take up the majority of the bed with his large frame, you’d slept well. You hadn’t even stirred when he got up to shower, so now you don’t have a good defense. 

“Whatever, Winchester.” 

“Y’sure you’re not jealous that I’m giving attention to-” 

“Now I’m pissed.” You interrupt. “Get a grip, Dean. I don’t care what you do or who you give your attention to, alright? Now can you hurry up and finish eating. I don’t want to stay in this town any longer than I have to.” 

Though your tone had been cutting, Dean appears unaffected, simply shrugging in response. “What’s the rush? Got your rocks off and now you’re ready to skip town. M’starting to think you might not enjoy my company.” 

“Well, don’t think too hard. Might hurt yourself.” 

“Cute.” He sneers. “But you seemed to enjoy my company last night, though.” He pretends to think. “In fact, you couldn’t get enough of my ‘company’ last night, if I’m remembering it right.” He leans across the table towards you and drops his voice, mirth glittering in his verdant eyes. “Hell, I’ll give you ‘company’ right now if it’ll fix that attitude-” 

The more primal part of your body stirs at his provocative tone and the deep timber of his voice, but your annoyance quickly beats that side of you back into submission. 

“At this rate, you’ll never have my company again.” You lean forward and taunt. You know it’s a total lie but it feels good to threaten him anyway. You’re also curious how he’ll react. You've tried to be done with him before, but for some reason, when he calls, you feel inclined to answer.

In his typical withdrawn nature, Dean deflects with a dismissive joke. “Oh, come on, woman, y’know it breaks my heart to argue with you like this.” 

“But you have such a talent for it,” You say with fake sympathy. 

“Fightin’ with you is just a hobby. My real talents lie elsewhere.” He counters with a smirk. 

You recognize the innuendo immediately. Dean practically defaults to making sexual insinuations, and does it frequently that it frankly annoys the hell out of you. It’s just a constant reminder that the only thing between you two is sex. Sex and hunting. And you know he’s more than capable of handling a spirit or two on his own, so that makes your true value to him more than clear. 

“Yeah, like driving me insane?” You mutter. 

“If I’m driving you insane, sweetheart, it’s only because you gave me the wheel.” He gives you a deliberate look with his eyebrows raised. A look that somehow says and we’ll keep riding until we crash. 

You roll your eyes and check the time. “Whatever that means. Hurry up. Library’s open.”  

A few minutes later, the same waitress brings over the check. Dean snatches it off the table quickly, but not before you see the phone number written in pink glitter ink at the top. The corner’s of his lips lift as his eyes sweep over the digits, and you’re not sure why that makes your stomach flip. 

You spend the next several hours at the library looking through old paper records. The research takes you both much longer without Sam but you’re thankful he’s not here. Though he’s easier to get along with than his brother, you don’t enjoy the looks he gives you and Dean when you fight, like he’s dealing with children. Like he knows something you both don't.

Eventually, you find the death certificate you were looking for. A hitchhiker had been struck and killed in a hit and run accident over thirty years ago, and now the spirit was apparently haunting the isolated stretch of road where he’d been hit, alongside the big cliffs on the east side of the town. The remains were buried by the family on the side of the road, at the site of the accident. 

You meet Dean outside in the parking lot outside the library. He’s busy looking at his phone, so he doesn’t see you coming at first. Despite yourself, you find yourself admiring him as you approach. God knows he might be annoying and callous at times, but he sure is good looking. Tall and broad as he leans against his car, and when he looks up and sees you coming, his smile is blinding. No wonder you keep coming back. How does a girl say no to someone like that? 

Dean slips his phone into the pocket of his jacket. “We ready to go?”

“Yeah.” You put the road map on the hood of the Impala and point out where you’ve circled the radius the burial site should be located in. “Bones should be somewhere in here.” 

He’s standing close to you and you can smell the rugged mix of leather and cedarwood that follows him around. It makes your head swim for half a second, so you focus your attention on the map. He glances at the map, but then you feel him staring at you. 

You flinch when he brushes hair away from your neck, stepping away from him immediately. “What are you doing?” Your heart races at your confusion from the intimate gesture. 

“You’re a jumpy thing, aren’t you?” He muses. “Just noticed you have a bruise on your neck.” 

Using the side mirror of the Impala, you examine your neck. There are three little bruises at the base of your throat, the exact size of Dean’s fingers you’re sure. He has a habit, which you enjoy but would never say it out loud, of holding you by the throat when he fucks you. 

“So?” You ask with regained composure. “S’from you. Now let’s go.” 

“From me?” He asks but you’re already getting into the passenger seat. He climbs into the car as well before glancing at the bruises again. “You mean from last night?” 

“Yeah,” You say impatiently. “Can you start driving now?” 

“In a second. Why didn’t you say anything?” 

You give him a bewildered look. “About what?”

Dean looks away and starts the car, drumming his fingers on the wheel. He seems unusually tense. “I must have fucking hurt you last night, then.” He finally says. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

You roll your eyes. “You didn’t hurt me. Seriously. I always have bruises after.” 

“What?” 

His scandalized expression makes you realize that he would have no idea about the bruises he leaves you with after you hook up because he never gets the chance to see you the next day. It irks you that he’s pretending to care about it, though. He’s not exactly the most gentle lover, so what did he expect? The bruises are always very minor, from getting caught up in the heat of the moment, and you’ve never held it against him. 

“It’s just a bruise, Dean.” You murmur. “I’ve had worse.” 

“Yeah but not from me.”

“It’s not a big deal. Now come on. There’s a three mile radius we’ll have to search. Better to get it done while there’s still daylight.” 

Dean starts the car but he’s uncharacteristically quiet for the majority of the ride. Usually, you’re wishing he would shut up or turn the music down, but the volume is set at a respectable level and he’s not even singing along. You’re not sure what his problem is, but it puts you on edge. Part of the reason your arrangement with him works so well for you both is that it’s simple. No nuances, no extra baggage or anything like that, but today, it doesn’t feel simple. But it’s not your problem because you don’t let it be. He can be quiet all he wants. You don’t have to wonder why. 

By the time he pulls off the road, there’s only a few hours until dusk. You grab the weapons and supplies you need from the trunk, which Dean offers to carry, and then start the tedious task of walking along the stretch of road, searching for any sign or marking of the grave site. After the first hour of walking and Dean’s phone constantly going off, you’re frustrated. 

“Who’s even texting you, anyway?” You snap. 

“Oh, that’s Sam.” He says, putting a hand on your shoulder as you step back from the side of the road the same moment a car goes speeding past. “Just checking in. You know how much of a tight ass he is.”

“Well, maybe you should answer, so he can stop checking in every five minutes.” You mutter, rolling your shoulder out of his grip. As far as you’re concerned, he’s only allowed to touch you in the bedroom. Any other time and anything else is off limits. 

Another hour passes. A fairly strong breeze blows over the cliffs, blowing the dust and debris on the road, making the grass you’re walking through sway around your ankles. Your mind starts to wander and lands on the ghost of the hitchhiker. You cruelly compare him to yourself. At least he had someone who cared about him enough to mourn his death and bury his body. That’s more than you have. The thought surprises you, but there’s no time to grapple with its implications because Dean calls your name. 

“Looks like a grave to me, what about you?” He asks. 

Hidden in a tangle of weeds and tall grass, there’s a malformed wooden cross, desiccated from time and the elements, and an inscribed stone. Despite your arguments, Dean insists upon doing all the digging himself, even when you complain that it’s going to take longer than if you helped. 

“Just be a doll and hold my jacket, will you?” He requests with an appealing smirk, holding it out for you to take. “Good girl,” He says when you do. 

You narrow your eyes at him but stay quiet. He begins to dig while you just watch. In no time, he’s covered in a layer of sweat, glistening in the low hanging sun. You look away occasionally to avoid getting caught, but you sneak appreciative glances at his body as he continues the hard labor. His biceps swell with each lift of the shovel, the muscles in his back flexing as well. 

“Rest in peace, you son of a bitch,” Dean mutters after salting the bones. He drops the match, and you’re just relieved you’ll get to skip town. 

It’s after dark by the time you make it back to the inn on the edge of town. It’s a rare occurrence that a hunt goes so well, and you want to keep that momentum going. You see your truck where you left it in the parking lot and linger only to give Dean a half hearted goodbye. He’s texting, probably messaging Sam back that the case has been closed, but shoves his phone away at the sound of your voice. 

“You’re headed out now?” He asks incredulously. 

“Yeah. I can stop if I need to sleep.” 

Really, three days with Dean has been more than enough for you. You feel thoroughly disoriented, like you’ve been adrift from yourself just by being near him. Driving through the night, alone with all the thoughts you’ve so savagely wrestled into tight little cages, doesn’t really appeal to you, but you know better than to linger where you’re not wanted. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Dean barks, jerking his head to gesture towards the inn. “I’ve got the room for another night, and I don’t wanna live with you falling asleep at the wheel on my conscience.” 

“I’m perfectly well rested-” 

“Thought this morning you said you didn’t sleep well?” He counters with raised eyebrows. 

You concede without much other convincing, mainly to avoid getting back into that whole argument again. If he wants to pretend he wants you to stay because he’s worried about you, that’s fine, but you know why he really wants you to stay. 

Not even an hour later, he’s coming on to you. The events of the day have soured you against him, but your body still wants him, still responds more willingly than your mind ever does. He’s pressing you up against the wall, with one hand tangled in the roots of your hair, the other pawing at your ass in your jeans, lifting your leg to hook it around his waist as his mouth ravishes yours. 

“This what you needed?” He pulls away a fraction to murmur, his wet lips brushing yours. He lets go of your hair to grip your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Round two to get rid of all that attitude-” As if sensing that you’re going to say something snarky back, he rolls his hips against you, pressing the hard line of his erection against the seam of your jeans just right, so that you have to bite your lip to suppress a whine. “Such a bad girl all day, and now you’re playing nice ‘cause you want my cock.” His voice is making you wetter with how breathless, low and gravelly it is. 

He dives in for another filthy kiss, his taste completely overwhelming you. His hand engulfs the base of your throat and he uses his hold on you there to pry you away from the wall and toss you onto the bed. 

“Now you’ve got nothing to say?” He taunts, standing before you at the foot of the bed while you lay on your back, panting. 

Dean pulls his shirt off before reaching for his belt and you feel your pussy spasm with interest. “Come on, you know the drill. Take all that shit off.” He gestures to your clothes. 

A few moments later, he’s got you on your hands and knees, both of you entirely bare. He’d teased you with his fingers for what felt like forever, edging you until you left angry scratch marks down his chest. Stingy with getting you to your release as punishment for being mouthy all day. 

“Fuck-” He hissed, pulling his hand away from the puffy, wet mess of your pussy to glance down at the fresh red lines running from his pecs to his ribs. “Kitty’s got claws, huh?” He smirked. 

You hadn’t meant to hurt him, but the last time he’d stopped rubbing your clit right before you were going to come made you nearly deranged with desperation. 

Now he’s dragging his cock between your legs, coating himself in all of your sticky arousal, before you feel the burning intrusion of him plunging inside. If he notices the little black and blue imprints from his fingers dotting your hips and the plush flesh of your ass from the night before, he doesn’t say anything. 

He fucks you hard and fast, just the way you like, so that you can only focus on the sensations and not any of the shit flying around in your head. He fucks you like he hates you, and it brings tears to your eyes. Your jaw aches from clenching your teeth against the screams you hold back. You’re honestly surprised he has the stamina to fuck you so raw and aggressively, given he had exerted himself over digging up the bones not too long ago. 

Dean folds his body over yours, so his sweaty chest sticks to your back, grunting in your ear with every slam of his hips into you. His hand is around your neck again, squeezing you in a firm grip but without really restricting your airway much. You like the drunk, fuzzy feeling you get from it, and you like the way he’s just making you take it. 

“Such a fuckin’ bratty little thing,” Dean uses his grip on your throat to lift your head a bit, so he can murmur directly into your ear. “All fuckin’ day, until I give you what you’re too proud to ask for.” 

His dirty talk is constant but you miss about half of it. While during the day your mind runs things, right now, with him pounding into you like it's his job to bruise your cervix, your mind turns off, and you’re just your body. Your pussy is throbbing, muscles in your arms and thighs shaking from the effort of holding yourself up, even with his help. You let him make you feel good. And you do feel good, like you’re floating, like you’re not real. Times like this might actually be the only time you do feel good, so you surrender completely to the feeling. You’re not yourself when you let him fuck you. You’re someone different, someone better and worse at the same time. Or maybe, when he’s using you like this, when you let him use you like this, you’re nothing at all. 

He squeezes the flesh of your ass before slapping it hard, and you moan in response. He pulls at your hair, and you whine at the pinpricks of pain that you love, pussy clenching hard as you get dangerously close to coming. 

“What a fucking whore,” Dean pants in your ear. “Can feel the way your pussy loves that,” He slaps your ass again and laughs darkly. 

He makes you cum by sliding a hand between your legs and playing with your aching clit. You scream into the pillow, as if you're cumming against your will, and he doesn’t relent until you stop shuddering, stop tightening your pussy around him. He comes, still with his hand around your throat, like he owns you, like you’re a dog he has on a leash, and when you think about that in the shower later, it makes you feel sick. 

He lets you shower first, and then when you’re done, he goes. You never shower together. And you might sleep in the same bed afterwards, but it’s not like you cuddle. 

You sit on the edge of the bed, slowly coming back to yourself from the post orgasm haze. You listen to the muffled noise of Dean singing in the shower, staring at the steam that billows out from under the door. Your body is satisfied and fairly tired, but your mind is restless. You’re thinking maybe you should have left town tonight when Dean’s phone rings beside the bed. 

Expecting it to be Sam, you answer it. It’s just like Dean to focus on getting laid, before assuring his brother that he’d made it back unscathed. “Hey, Sam,” Your voice is a little hoarse. 

“Sam? What? No, this is Penny, from the diner. Who is this?” 

You blink. “You have the wrong number.” 

“No,” The insufferable waitress says in her snotty little voice. You can barely hear her over the blood rushing in your ears. “I’ve been talking to Dean with this number all day.” 

Your stomach drops to your feet. “Wrong number.” You repeat before hanging up. 

You know you probably shouldn’t but you open up the message threads on Dean’s phone. No recent messages from Sam. Just a shit ton from this same unknown number. There’s bile rising in your throat as you realize what it all means. That Dean had taken the number from the restaurant this morning, had reached out to the tacky ass waitress, and had continued to flirt with her via text all fucking day. While standing beside you. And when you’d asked about it? He lied to your face and said it was Sam. And to make the entire situation worse, he’d fucked you after it, too. He’d kept you both on retainer, two chicks on the line so if one fell through, he’d still be able to get his dick wet. 

Jesus, you’re such a fucking idiot. You let him do this to you, too. 

You read a few of the messages before you feel so sick you have to stop. But you see enough to realize they were making plans to meet up. Tentatively for tonight. He calls her baby and beautiful and other shit he never says to you. Instead, he calls you whore. 

Emotions boil under your skin, and you can’t make sense of any of them, until anger surfaces. You know there’s no real reason to be angry with him, other than the fact that he lied to you. You have no claim on him. He’s not yours. Not by a long shot. But you feel humiliated, insulted, and worst of all, fucking hurt. But that only lasts for a second before you smother it under more anger. 

Dean steps out of the bathroom with a towel hanging low on his hips, torso naked. Your nail marks on his chest stand out against his tanned skin. “Think I pulled something in my back towards the end there. Think you could-” 

“You were texting Sam today?” 

The nonchalant expression leaves his face at your tone. He stares at you for a second before heading over to the side of the bed, where his clothes are. “Uh-yeah-” 

“Really?” You press. 

“Can’t a man get dressed before he’s interrogated.” He half heartedly jokes, but then catches the hardness on your face and becomes sheepish. 

“Just answer me.” 

“Unless you wanna waterboard me, too. In that case, I can keep the towel-”

“Jesus christ, Dean!” You yell. “This isn’t a fucking joke!” 

He stares at you, maybe shocked that you raised your voice, or surprised he’s been caught. “Yeah, I’m not exactly laughing here, sweetheart-” 

“You asshole-” You round on him, shoving him as hard as you can but even then he only stumbles on step backward. “Keep lying to my face, Dean. Go ahead. I fucking know it wasn’t Sam. God, you must think I’m a fucking idiot.” 

“You know that’s not true-” He raises his voice slightly but it’s only to be heard over your own ranting. 

“Oh my god, you’re actually disgusting.” You shake your head at him. “You disgust me.” 

“I didn’t exactly do anything.” He frowns. “They’re just messages…and we’re not- uh, you and I don’t- You said it yourself. You don’t care who I-” 

“You lied to me, Dean.” You bellow. You’re vaguely aware of the dramatics of the scene you’re causing, and later you’ll probably be mortified by your behavior, but right now, you can’t control yourself. You’ve never been this fucking angry at him, never this disappointed. It just confirms what you knew all along; you’re entirely nothing to him. 

“You lied to me, and then you fucked me!” 

“I didn’t think you would care! She’s just-” 

“Then why the fuck did you lie about her!” You nearly scream, getting in his face. “You wanna fuck her, then do it! Don’t ask me to stay the fucking night with you, when you’re telling some other bitch you’re gonna see her tonight! God, are you really that stupid, Dean? You didn’t think I would care? No, you didn’t think about me at all, you piece of shit.” 

He gapes down at you and says your name pathetically. You just stare at him, chest heaving. Finally, he says, “You’re right.” 

“Fuck you.” You say, the anger leaving you fast. You have to get out of here. “I’m done. I’m so fucking done with you.” 

You’ve had that thought about him before. But this time, as you let the door slam behind you, you think you really mean it. 

[h0llowhailey]

Foaming at the mouth for part 2 rn

[littlebunnybigheartfics]

just a reminder for smut readers to not compare yourselves to what you read. at the end of the day it is porn and it still has tropes and stereotypes like any other.

if you can't go multiple rounds, or if you need more time, or if you have trouble finishing/can't finish at all, if you don't have big breasts or a small waist or birthing hips, if intimacy is intimidating, if you don't like the feel of penetration, if ur a virgin, if it takes more time for you to get wet, if you can't squirt, if you're not short and petite, if you have medical issues that get in the way, if ur a victim of sa or abuse. that is all normal and it does not make you less than. if you don't find a reflection of yourself within stories, that is more than alright. lots of it is escapism and glorified and porn trope adjacent and not a reflection of real life. you are perfect just as you are.♡

[zaynezone]

IT'S A GREAT TIME TO BE A ZAYNE MAIN

[h0llowhailey]

RAHHHHHH

[cocoaxia]

everyone calling zayne the most tame li like police didn't literally find human remains and evidence of cannibalism in his LA home…

[kirimaruchize]

Long hair is finally here 🥰

The team enjoying and relaxing. ✨️❄️🐠🐦‍⬛🍎

[zaynezone]

Guilt is going to eat Zayne alive.

The moment he steps out of the surgical suite, he's heading straight to his office. He pays no mind to the people attempting to get his attention. It's not anything urgent, which means he can deal with it later. Right now, he needs to get to you.

The moment he opens the door, his heart sinks.

You're laying awkwardly on his not very comfortable couch, heels kicked off and pretty dress wrinkled. Your hair is no longer in the carefully arranged style it had been in when you'd arrived, and he'd assured you he would return in 15 minutes.

That had been 4 hours ago.

He'd gotten pulled into an emergency surgery, so urgent he couldn't find a moment to send you a message to go home. He's sure you must have realized what happened, which is why he makes a mental note to buy something off your wishlist tomorrow.

"Sweetheart...wake up." He whispers quietly, doing his best to wake you up peacefully. Your eyes flutter open, and the small smile that appears on your face when you see him eases the ache in his heart.

"Hi. Did I fall asleep?" You sit up slowly, stretching out your clearly sore joints. Zayne is quick to reach out and squeeze your shoulders, helping to get your blood flowing.

"You did. I'm sorry to keep you waiting. I believe the restaurant is closed. Would you like to go home?" He kneels to retrieve your heels, carefully slipping them on for you.

"You must be starving. And frankly I am too. I bet that taco place down the street is open late? Should we go there?" Your words do little to absolve the guilt burning through his stomach.

"You're...not upset with me?" You laugh as you stand up, taking his hand and squeezing it three times.

"Oh yeah doc," You grin, sarcasm dripping from every syllable, "Next time let that guy die so we can make our reservations. Come on, I want tacos!"

[h0llowhailey]

God I love him so much I love your fics AHHHH