vivi

[singse]

aang lazily fucking you while you're both laying on your sides, his face tucked into the crook of your neck so his pants are warm and damp against your sweat-slick skin. he's got two fingers in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue to muffle sweet noises you're making due to how well his cock is hitting you deep ahd keeping you nice and full.

"shh," he hushes, his other hand splayed across your stomach and pushing down so you can feel the slight bulge of his cock in there, your eyes rolling back. "keep quiet, my love. wouldn't want everyone else to hear us."

as if the loud and noisy squelches of your sopping cunt being bullied by aang's thick cock hasn't already woken the rest of your friends up.

[pinkfairydreamgirl]

Beg for it.

pairing: dean di laurentis x f!reader

summary: Dean is used to getting everything he wants. You’re just trying to keep him humble and show him how good it can be when you work for what you want.

contains: smut! 18+ minors do not interact! NSFW! subby dean, whiny pathetic dean, pet names (baby, honey), no use of y/n, piv, loose description of oral f!receiving, no protection (wrap before you tap people), kinda toxic relationship idk lol

author’s note: this is absolutely feral lol enjoy!

It wasn’t exactly revenge.

You loved Dean. Really, you did.

But there was a small, teeny tiny part of you that enjoyed the thought of making a man like Dean Di Laurentis beg on his knees for what he wants.

Before the two of you even started dating, you were fed up with him. His sexual escapades were like folklore around campus, told in such hushed tones and with such astonishment you felt as though you should be sat around a fire with wolves baying in the background. It felt as though everyone had a story about him and you couldn’t escape it. You had one class with him, and so far you had managed to fly under his radar, but once he caught sight of you, he was a goner.

It took him months to convince you to go out with him. You thought after a while he would inevitably grow bored, but that was before you knew that he liked the chase. He liked the build up, the tension, the risk of potential failure.

When you finally agreed, you were looking forward to turning him down for a second date, so sure you weren’t going to enjoy yourself.

But you did. And that infuriated you.

Dean was a privileged man. He was from a wealthy family, he was conventionally attractive, he was extroverted and well liked. Things came so easy for him. That didn’t happen for you, you worked for everything you had. Except your love for Dean, that came easy. In fact, you worked harder to resist it than anything else. And something you really loved was how easy he made it seem loving you.

He worshipped you. He was affectionate and caring, he remembered the small things and went above and beyond with romantic gestures. He was perfect. And most of the time, you loved that. Other times…it made you a little crazy.

So, so what if you decided to take it out on him a little sometimes? Everyone deserved to experience what it was like to have to work for what you want in life!

So you started small.

Just light teasing, nothing crazy. You made him wait a few weeks before you let him have you in bed, and when you finally did, you made him slow everything down. HIs hands would shake from the restraint, his mouth chasing yours when you would pull back from kissing. And then, when you would touch him, you would purposefully avoid the places he was desperate for you to touch. You’d wait until he was begging. And then when you finally gave him what he wanted, the payoff was out of this world.

Then you started to get creative.

Dean was usually a very good boyfriend, but occasionally his dumb jock side came out, and he would do stupid things like completely forget about a date you had planned weeks in advance and instead go out with his boys and get stupid drunk.

You had waited at the restaurant for him for about an hour, calling him a few times before giving up and going home. But instead of anger, you felt excitement. He gave you an opportunity. He messed up, and now you were going to make him pay.

When he stumbled back into his room late that night, you were already in bed, facing the wall and feigning sleep. You felt him seeking you out and clumsily falling into bed beside you, but in his haze he barely registered your cold greeting. He fell asleep within a few minutes, his mouth wide open as he snored, and you took the opportunity while he was unconscious to turn back to face him and watch with quiet tenderness as he slept.

But the next morning, you set your plan into motion.

You woke to the feeling of him pressed to your back, his lips at your shoulder while he pressed against you warm and hard.

His voice was gravelly this early in the morning, the rumble of his, “good morning, baby” felt through your chest. You almost caved at the sound, but you steeled yourself and rolled onto your back to stop him from grinding his morning wood into your ass.

“You forgot about our date.” You didn’t skate around the truth, nor did you wait for him to remember. You wanted him to know why you were upset.

He sits up onto an elbow to look down at you. “Shit, baby. I’m so sorry.”

“I reminded you like five different times, Dean.”

“I know, I’m sorry I don’t know how I forgot, honestly.” His blue eyes filled with sincere guilt.

“I called you and you didn’t answer.”

“My phone died,” he explained quickly. When you don’t respond or move, he leans down to kiss at your neck. “Let me make it up to you.”

You let him slide down your body and disappear beneath the covers. You let him lick and suck and eat you out like a man starved, and you let him make you come.

And then, when he slides back up your body, his aching cock resting over your core and running the head through the slick, readying himself to sink into you, you press a hand to his chest.

“No.” You shake your head and watch as his face slowly crumples with confusion. “I’m still mad at you. Which means you don’t get to come.”

“But baby—“

“Nuh uh.” You push at his chest, and despite his wounded expression, he moves just enough to let you slip out from under him. He collapses onto the mattress as you go to use the bathroom and expect to find his hand wrapped around himself when you return.

And sure enough, he’s spread out on the bed, lazily stroking himself with a slight pout that makes you laugh lightly. You walk over and sit back on the bed and replace his hand with your own, lazily stroking him, the head of his cock already drooling from your attention.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” you begin. “You’re gonna get up and go to practice and you’re not going to touch yourself. You’re gonna wait for me to come home like a good boy, and then maybe I will let you come later.”

He whines at your words, his hips thrusting into your hand greedily before you pull away completely. He groans in frustration when you get back up, but he obeys, just like you knew he would.

And when he comes home later, he’s feral. His cock had been semi-hard all day, and is especially visible now through his sweatpants as he lays on the bed, fidgeting while he waits for you to come closer.

“Please, baby. I’ve been such a good boy,” he tells you in the quiet of your bedroom, his hands curled into fists beside him.

You watch him for a few beats before finally conceding, telling him take off his clothes. He does so in a matter of seconds, eagerly lying down while his cock bobs over his stomach.

You take your time, scratching your nails over his thighs, just using your fingertips to graze over the weeping head of his dick. By the time you’re straddling him, grinding yourself on his shaft but not allowing him to slip inside, he’s whining and whimpering so much you actually worry he’s in pain.

“What do you say?” You pause your movements, watching his sweat slick chest rise and fall rapidly.

“I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry.”

You smile and lean down to kiss him. “I forgive you.”

The sigh of relief he lets out is sweet, and you reward him by leaning down to grip him in your hand, stroking a few times before positioning him at your entrance.

“Please let me inside you. Please. I need it. I need it so bad.” His babbling is adorable, and you tell him so, though he doesn’t react since he’s too busy staring at where the two of you are touching. You take pity on him and end your teasing, letting him slide inside you and you’re so wet there’s no resistance.

He moans loudly at the relief, his hips bucking under you like he can’t control himself.

“I’m sorry baby. I’m gonna come, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, honey,” you assure him softly, leaning down to kiss his lips, his jaw, his neck. “Come for me.”

He’s quivering beneath you and releases a whimper as he finally comes. It seems as though it lasts forever, rope after rope of cum filling you up, so much that it leaks out onto his stomach and balls, and he’s still hard. He keeps thrusting, even after he comes.

“It’s so good. I can’t stop.” His breath comes rapidly, the both of you panting into each others open mouths as you begin to ride him, snapping your hips and swiveling to try and find that perfect spot inside you that never fails to get you off quick.

He comes at least three times before you do, and then he makes up for it by eating you out and then fucking you again to ensure you come as many times as he does. By the time you’re both finished you’re sweaty, sticky, and completely spent.

“Maybe I should get you mad more often,” he jokes.

You laugh. “Clearly I didn’t wear you out enough.” You climb over him once again and start over.

divider by: @kthice

[katiejohnnypilled]

THINKING OF YOU ♡

— he can’t give you what you want.

I had tried for weeks to move on , to not think about the blonde boy from nights ago .

I mean he had his reputation right? It was stupid to assume I was any different.

But yet I couldn’t stop because it wasn’t just sex , or atleast it wasn’t just that to me. Dean had done more with me , sure we had sex but we talked , we watched movies , we ordered food and we went out.

It was good for a month before he went back to the way it was before , simple passing comments and flirting teases when I was around . Usually I would be able to give it back but I couldn’t anymore , I couldn’t do it.

Not when I was always thinking about and he wasn’t thinking about me.

It was a friday night after hockey and , as usual , the boys had thrown a party. I had debated not going but Hannah wanted to go for garrett and allie had practically forced me to get ready.

That’s what lead me to be sitting outside on the little stupid , hand painted bench they had in the garden . I didn’t even get a drink , I said hello to a few people and left to go sit outside by myself .

I had made eye contact with dean for only two seconds when I walked in however when I was walking out he was getting handsy with a blonde girl in the kitchen , i couldn’t take it.

The garden was quiet beside the music leaking in from the party happening behind me . It was so quiet that when the door opened I jumped and pressed my hand to my heart.

“Sorry , didn’t mean to scare you.” The voice said from behind me , I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was because I had heard it say sweet nothings to me for so long that it became a constant noise in my head.

I kept my mouth shut , my eyes on the ground and my head down as dean approached the bench and sat beside me , a beer in his hand.

“Why are you out here? It’s much more fun in there.”

“I wanna be out here.”

“Don’t wanna party with your friends?”

“No.”

“Okay then , quiet treatment.” He said from beside me and it made me roll my eyes but I still couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t do it because I was weak , I was weak and too involved with someone who clearly didn’t feel anything , for anyone.

“You weren’t my girlfriend.” He added on.

“Yep , wasn’t your girlfriend.”

“Did you think you were?”

“No.”

“Did you want to be?”

I fell silent , my voice just shut down and I couldn’t get any words out because that’s what I wanted. That’s what I wanted the most but I wasn’t going to embarrass myself by admitting that. I would only get hurt more.

“I would be an awful boyfriend to you , y/n. I couldn’t do that to you.”

“So why keep me around?” I managed to whisper out to him , trying to get some idea of what his mind looked like when he thought of me.

“I liked having you around , I really did like you.”

“Did?”

“Do. I do like you but that doesn’t change that fact I wouldn’t be a good boyfriend.”

“And you don’t want to even try?”

“I don’t want to try anything that will break your heart.”

And with that he left , he got up from the seat beside me and went back to the house as hot tears finally started to stream down my cheeks.

He didn’t even want to try for me? The idea of us trying was so horrible to him? My heart was already broken. He couldn’t break it anymore .

————————

When I was leaving later on into the night I shamefully looked around the house one last time , trying to catch a glimpse of the blonde haired boy.

“He’s in his room.” Garrett said from beside me , clearly being able to tell what I was looking for.

“Oh.”

“Not with a girl.” He was quick to add , “he was.. i don’t know . He’s being weird.”

“Yeah , weird.” Weird was barely the right word to describe dean , dean was everything that I couldn’t understand. The hardest equation I had ever faced.

“I wouldn’t give up , he’s very stuck in his ways but you’re you and dean likes you.”

I didn’t reply to garrett , i just grabbed my jacket and left.

I didn’t know if I could believe dean liked me , not when he did everything to avoid being with me.

[honeyslibrary]

Just Like Daddy | Dean Di Laurentis

Pairing; Dad!Dean Di Laurentis x Reader

Warning(s); None. Lots of fluff. Not really edited, though, so apologies for any mistakes

Summary; You and Dean take your three year old son, Addison-Maxwell, skating for the first time.

Word Count; 2.6k

Author’s Note; I had fun writing this, I think it's so cute! Would love to expand this universe with other chapters, so if you have anything you'd like to see, please let me know (: Hope all is well in your corner of the world. Go Canucks! - Honey

Dean Masterlist

The rink is empty on Sunday mornings, which is exactly why Dean arranged for the three of you to come at this hour. Addison's been vibrating with excitement since you told him yesterday that today was finally the day. Now, at eight thirty, he's sitting on the bench in front of the boards while Dean kneels in front of him, lacing up the tiny skates that had been wrapped under the Christmas tree two weeks ago.

"Tight, Daddy?" Addison asks, watching Dean's hands work with the laces.

"Not too tight," Dean assures him. "Just right. Can you wiggle your toes for me?"

Addison scrunches up his face in concentration, and his little feet shift in the skates. "I wiggle them!"

"Good job, buddy," Dean says, and he finishes with the second skate before sitting back on his heels. "How do they feel?"

"Good," Addison announces. Then, with the unshakeable confidence of a three-year-old, "I'm gonna skate fast like you, Daddy."

"We're going to start slow," Dean corrects gently. "Remember what we talked about? First you learn to stand, then walk, then glide."

"Then fast," Addison insists.

"Then fast," Dean agrees, exchanging an amused look with you over Addison's head.

You're already in your own skates, having laced them up while Dean helped Addison. It's been a while since you've been on ice, not since before Addison was born, really. Dean still skates regularly, both for his own practice and to demonstrate things for his youth team, but you've had less reason to. Still, it comes back quickly, muscle memory kicking in as you stand and test your balance.

"Mama's ready!" Addison observes, pointing at you.

"Mama is ready," you confirm. "Are you ready, Addy?"

"Ready!" he says seriously, in that way three-year-olds have of making everything sound intensely important.

Dean helps Addison stand, keeping a firm grip on his hands. Addison wobbles immediately, his ankles trying to bend inward, and Dean's there to steady him. "Keep your feet flat, buddy. Don't let your ankles do this," he demonstrates the wobble, "keep them straight like this."

Addison's face scrunches up again with concentration, his tongue poking out slightly as he tries to control his ankles. It's an expression you've seen on Dean's face a hundred times, usually when he's focused on reviewing game footage or planning practice drills. Your son looks so much like his father it's almost comical: the same blonde hair that never quite behaves, the same determined set to his jaw when he's working on something, the same green eyes that can shift from serious to mischievous in seconds.

"Good," Dean says. "That's really good. Now we're going to walk to the ice, okay? Just like regular walking, but I'm holding your hands."

"Okay, Daddy."

The walk from the locker room to the rink entrance is slow and careful, Addison taking exaggerated steps while Dean walks backward in front of him, keeping hold of both his hands. You follow behind with your phone, already recording because you know you'll want to remember this.

The rink is pristine, the ice freshly zambonied and gleaming under the overhead lights. It's cold enough that you can see your breath, and Addison notices immediately. Dean’s rink was one of the colder ones you’d been in. 

"Mama, look! Smoke!" he exclaims, breathing out dramatically and watching the cloud of condensation.

"That's your breath in the cold air," you explain. "Pretty cool, right?"

"So cool," Addison agrees, and then he's distracted by the ice in front of him. "That's where we skate?"

"That's where we skate," Dean confirms. "You ready to go on?"

Addison nods enthusiastically, but when Dean guides him to step onto the ice, he freezes. His little hands grip Dean's tighter, and his eyes go wide.

"It's slippery," he announces, like this is a revelation.

"It is slippery," Dean agrees. "That's what makes skating fun. But Daddy's got you, okay? I'm not going to let you fall."

"Promise?"

"I promise," Dean says. "Do you trust me?"

Addison considers this with all the seriousness a three-year-old can muster, then nods. "Yeah!"

Your chest squeezes at that, at the complete faith in your son's voice. You step onto the ice yourself, skating a slow circle to warm up while Dean helps Addison get his bearings. The first few minutes are tentative, Addison barely lifting his feet, essentially just standing on the ice while Dean holds him steady.

"Okay, now we're going to try moving," Dean says. "Just slide one foot forward, like this. See? Then the other foot."

"Slide," Addison repeats, and he attempts to move his right foot forward. It goes too far and too fast, and he yelps, but Dean's grip keeps him upright.

"That's okay," Dean says immediately. "That was good. You moved! Let's try again, but smaller. Just a little slide."

You skate closer, phone still recording, watching as Dean patiently guides Addison through the basics. It's slow going. Addison's legs keep wanting to do different things, his ankles still trying to bend inward despite his concentration. But Dean's patience is endless, his voice calm and encouraging even when Addison gets frustrated.

"I can't do it," Addison says after a few minutes, his lower lip starting to tremble.

"Yes, you can," Dean says firmly. "You're already doing it. You're standing on ice, and you've moved forward. That's skating, buddy."

"But not fast."

"Fast comes later," Dean reminds him. "Uncle Nicky wasn't fast his first day on skates. Daddy wasn't fast, either."

"You weren't?" Addison looks skeptical.

"Nope," Dean says. "I fell down a lot my first time. Way more than you."

This seems to mollify Addison somewhat. The idea that his father, who he thinks can do anything, also struggled at first makes him willing to try again.

"Can Mama skate with us?" Addison asks, looking over at you.

"Sure can," you say, gliding over to them. "Want me on your other side?"

Addison nods, and you take position on his left while Dean stays on his right. Together, you both hold one of Addison's hands, and slowly, the three of you begin moving across the ice. Addison's still wobbly, his feet sliding unpredictably, but with both of you there he's more confident.

"Look, I'm skating!" he announces proudly.

"You are," you agree, smiling at Dean over Addison's head. "You're doing such a good job, baby."

"I'm not a baby, Mama," Addison corrects with the indignation of a three-year-old who's been told he's a big boy now. "I'm three. That's big."

"You're right, I'm sorry," you say seriously. "You're a big boy who's learning to skate."

"Yeah," Addison agrees, satisfied.

You make several slow circuits around the rink like this, Addison between you and Dean, his little legs working hard to keep up. He talks the entire time, a constant stream of consciousness that includes observations about the ice ("it's so white, Daddy"), questions about skating ("when I go fast?"), and random non sequiturs about his life ("my friend Lucas has a dog and it's big").

"You're doing so good, Addy," Dean says after the third lap. "Do you want to try something new?"

"What something?"

"Do you want to try gliding? That means you push with your feet and then you slide."

"Slide is fun," Addison declares.

"Sliding is very fun," Dean agrees. "Okay, so we're going to push with this foot, like this, and slide. Then push with the other foot, and slide."

Dean demonstrates, and you mirror him on Addison's other side. Addison watches intently, then tries to copy the movement. His first attempt is more of a shuffle than a glide, but Dean praises him anyway.

"Perfect! Good job, buddy. Let's do it again."

It takes a few more tries, but slowly, Addison starts to get the rhythm of it. Push, glide. Push, glide. His movements are jerky and uncoordinated, but there's definite progress. And more importantly, he's smiling, that wide unreserved smile that shows his dimples and makes his eyes crinkle just like Dean's do.

"Mama, take picture!" Addison demands suddenly. "I'm skating!"

You've been taking periodic photos and videos throughout, but you stop to take a proper photo of them, then a selfie of Addison between you and Dean, all three of you on the ice. Dean makes a goofy face that makes Addison giggle, and you capture that too, the pure joy of this moment.

"Can I try by myself?" Addison asks after another few minutes.

Your immediate instinct is to say no, that it's too soon, that he'll fall. But Dean catches your eye and gives you a small nod, and you trust his judgment on this. He knows what he's doing.

"You can try," Dean says. "But we're going to be right next to you, okay? So if you start to fall, we'll catch you."

"Okay, Daddy."

Dean slowly releases Addison's hand, and you do the same on your side. Addison stands there for a moment, arms out for balance like a tiny tightrope walker. His face is a mask of concentration, and you hold your breath.

Then, very carefully, he lifts one foot and slides it forward. Then the other. He's doing it. He's actually skating on his own, even if it's only for a few feet before his balance wobbles and Dean has to catch him.

"Did you see?" Addison asks excitedly, looking between you and Dean. "I did it by myself!"

"You did!" you confirm, your voice a little thick because your baby, your three-year-old, is skating. "That was great, Addy."

"I'm just like Daddy," Addison beams proudly.

"You are," Dean agrees, and there's something soft in his expression as he looks at your son. "You're doing so good, buddy. I'm really proud of you."

"Can we do more?"

You spend another twenty minutes on the ice, watching as Addison gets incrementally more confident. He falls a few times, despite Dean and you being right there, but he bounces back immediately each time, that resilient way small children have of not dwelling on failures. By the end of the hour, he's able to move several feet on his own before needing to be caught, and he's absolutely beaming with pride.

"Okay, buddy," Dean says eventually. "I think that's enough for today. Your legs are probably getting tired."

"I'm not tired," Addison protests automatically, even though you can see he's starting to flag.

"Maybe not," Dean says diplomatically. "But the ice needs a break. We'll come back another day, okay?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Maybe not tomorrow," you interject. "But soon. We can practice every week."

"Every week," Addison repeats, nodding like this is a binding contract. "And then I go fast."

"Then you'll go fast," Dean agrees.

Getting Addison off the ice and on the bench isis easier than getting him on was. He's tired now, even if he won't admit it, and he lets Dean carry him to the bench. While Dean unlaces Addison's skates, you pull out your phone to review the photos and videos you took.

"Look at this one," you say, showing Dean a photo of him and Addison on the ice together, both of them with matching expressions of concentration.

Dean smiles, that soft smile he reserves for moments like this. "Send that to my mom. She'll love it."

"Already planning to," you say. "Your dad's going to be so excited that Addy's started skating."

"He's been asking about it every time we talk," Dean admits. "I think he was starting to worry we weren't going to do it."

"Well, now he's done it," you say, looking at your son who's chattering to Dean about how he's going to be the fastest skater ever. "Our little hockey player."

"Maybe," Dean says. "Or maybe he'll decide he hates it next week. He's three. Attention span of a goldfish."

"Fair point."

But watching Addison animatedly describe his skating experience to Dean, his little hands gesturing wildly as he recounts how he "had so much fun, daddy! The most fun!" you have a feeling this is going to stick. He's got the Di Laurentis hockey gene, that love of ice and speed and competition that runs through Dean's family.

Later, after you've gotten Addison changed back into his regular shoes and Dean's packed up the skates, the three of you head out to the parking lot. Addison's holding both of your hands, swinging between you with each step, still talking about skating.

"When we come back, I'm gonna go faster," he announces. "And I'm gonna... gonna do the spinny thing. What's the spinny thing called, Daddy?"

"A spin?" Dean suggests. "Or maybe you mean a hockey stop?"

"Hockey stop!" Addison repeats enthusiastically. "I'm gonna do a hockey stop."

"That's pretty advanced," Dean says. "But we can work on it."

"I can do it," Addison insists with the boundless confidence of a three-year-old who just learned to shuffle forward on ice. "I skate good, daddy."

"You are really good," you agree, squeezing his little hand. "Daddy was impressed, weren't you, Daddy?"

"Very impressed," Dean confirms. "You're going to be better than me someday."

"I wanna be the best," Addison says matter-of-factly, and you and Dean both laugh.

In the car on the way home, Addison falls asleep within five minutes, exhausted from the physical exertion and the excitement. You glance back at him in his car seat, his head tilted to the side, his mouth slightly open, and your heart squeezes.

"He did really well," you say to Dean.

"He did," Dean agrees. "Better than I expected, honestly. His balance was pretty good for a first timer."

"He gets that from you."

"Maybe," Dean says. "Or maybe he's just naturally gifted. Either way, I'm claiming credit."

You laugh softly, not wanting to wake Addison. "Of course you are."

Dean reaches over and takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. "Thanks for doing this. I know you were worried it was too soon."

"I was," you admit. "But you were right. He was ready. And he loved it."

"He did," Dean says, and there's satisfaction in his voice. "My kid on skates. That's... that's pretty cool."

"Your kid who looks exactly like you, acts exactly like you, and now skates like you," you tease. "I had no genetic input whatsoever, apparently."

"You gave him his stubbornness," Dean offers. "That's all you."

"Excuse me?"

"In the best way," Dean amends quickly, grinning. "His determination. His refusal to give up even when things are hard. That's you."

That mollifies you somewhat, and you settle back in your seat, watching the city slide past the windows. When you get home, Dean carries a still-sleeping Addison upstairs while you grab the bag with the skates. Inside the apartment, Dean lays Addison on the couch rather than in his bed, knowing he'll probably wake up soon anyway.

You sit on the coffee table across from the couch, just watching your son sleep, and Dean joins you, his arm coming around your shoulders.

"Think he'll remember this when he's older?" you ask quietly.

"Maybe not consciously," Dean says. "But it'll be there somewhere. First time on ice. First time skating with his dad."

"And his mom," you add.

"And his mom," Dean agrees. "Who, for the record, looked very good out there. Maybe we should go skating more often. Just the two of us."

"Is this your way of asking me on a date?"

"Maybe," Dean says. "Would you say yes?"

"Obviously," you say, leaning into him. "Though finding a babysitter might be tough, considering Addison’s a velcro kid."

"We'll figure it out," Dean says, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

Addison stirs on the couch, his eyes blinking open slowly. When he sees you both watching him, he smiles, sleepy and content.

"Mama? Daddy?" he says. "Can we go skating again?"

"Soon, buddy," Dean promises. "Really soon."

“Yay," Addison says, and he closes his eyes again. 

You and Dean exchange an amused look. He's definitely a Di Laurentis.

If you made it this far, thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it 🤍. -Honey

[xxmmandyxx]

Missing shoe / dean di laurentis

Warnings: party, alcohol, drunk

The house was loud enough to feel like it was shaking. Music thumped through the walls, cups were scattered across every surface, people were packed into the whole downstairs so tightly that moving required shoulder-checking strangers just to get through.

Dean sat across from Logan at the dining table finishing a drinking game neither of them had been taking too seriously.

”You cheated,” Logan accused immediately.

Dean snorted. ”You say that every single time you lose.”

”Because you cheat every single time i lose.”

”Well, that sounds like a you problem.”

Logan flipped him off while Dean laughed and reached for his beer.

The instinctively glanced around the room. Looking for her. Without even realizing it.

But his smile faded when he didn’t spot her immediately. Weird. She’d been everywhere all night. Holding onto him earlier while he talked to Garret, stealing drinks from him and everyone around here every chance she got, dancing with Allie hard enough that she crashed into more people than she probably even realized. Talking about the most random things with Tucker.

Dean glanced around again. Still nothing.

Beau noticed immediately. ”What?”

Dean shrugged once. ”Haven’t seen her in a while.”

Beau looked around lazily. ”She’s probably just off terrorizing somebody for drinks.”

”Hopefully not.”

He quickly pulls out his phone and sends her a text. Asking her where she is. But no answer.

Across the room he spotted Allie and Hannah, he stood automatically and made his way through the crowd toward them. ”Allie.”

She looked up immediately.

”Where’s she at?”

Allie frowned slightly. ”I thought she was with you.”

”Well as you can see, she’s not.”

”we haven’t seen her since we were in the kitchen.”

”How long ago was that?”

”A while ago?” Hannah nodded in agreement.

Dean’s jaw tightened slightly. ”And?”

”She was fine,” Hannah said quickly. ”I mean, she was really drunk. But she seemed fine.”

Dean smiled tightly at them before turning away. Taking his phone out of his pocket. Attempting to call her. But yet again no answer.

”Maybe she went to your room?” Allie offered.

”Yeah. Probably”

He barely finished his sentence before he was walking towards his room. Pushing through the thick crowded room of people.

He checked his room. Empty. Bathrooms. Empty other than the ones with couples making out. The guys bedrooms were empty aswell.

He then checked the backyard. Nothing.

He pushed through the room again and walked out onto the porch. Cold air hit him instantly.

The noise from inside muffled slightly behind him as he closed the door.

He scanned the porch. Then froze. She sat on the front steps leaning against the railing. With her eyes closed and one arm dangling loosely across her lap.

”Baby.”

No response.

Dean crossed the porch quickly and crouched in front of her.

”Hey.”

She opened her eyes slowly. And her face softened when she realized who was sitting in front of her. Her boyfriend. Her Dean.

”There you are.” She slurred quietly.

Dean let out a breath through his nose. ”What are you doing out here baby? You must be cold.”

She blinked at him lazily. ”I just wanted some air.”

”Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve gone with you.”

”I don’t know.”

Her head lolled slightly against the railing while Dean looked her over carefully. Hair messy from the wind. Mascara faintly smudged underneath her eyes. Her tiny dress ridden dangerously high on her thighs from how she’d been sitting curled up. And she was shaking.

Then Dean’s eyes dropped lower. One heel. One bare foot. He stared.

”…where’s your shoe?”

She looked down slowly. There was a long pause before genuine horror crossed her face. ”Oh.”

”Yeah.”

”I had both earlier.”

”I know you did sweetheart.”

She kept staring at her foot like she couldn’t fully process it.

”When did that happen?”

Dean laughed quietly despite himself.

”You tell me.”

A weak laugh escaped her before another shiver ran through her hard enough Dean noticed almost immediately.

That settled it.

”Okay, let’s get up.”

She frowned slightly. ”Why?”

”Because you’re freezing.”

”I’m okay.”

”You’re literally shaking.”

Dean stood and reached for her carefully, sliding his hands around her waist to pull her upright.

The second she stood, her entire body swayed violently sideways.

”Whoa—”

Dean tightened his grip on her immediately.

She burst into startled laughter.

”Yeah,” he muttered. ”C’mon”

She leaned heavily against him while he steadied her, one hand firm on her waist while the other tugged the hem of her dress back down where it had ridden up.

She smiled at him. ”You love me.”

Dean looked down at her for a second. Completely drunk. One shoe missing. Barely able to stand. But still smiling at him like he hung the moon.

”Yes, i do.”

She giggled against him.

Dean kept his hands securely on her hips as he guided her back inside. Warm air and noise hit them immediately.

The second Logan looked up from his conversation and saw her climbing onto Dean, he barked out a laugh.

”Holy shit. You okay?”

”I’m fine.” She replied weakly.

”Where is her other shoe?” He asked Dean.

”I don’t know man.”

Dean guided her further into the kitchen. Every few seconds she drifted sideways into him. Practically melting against his chest while he moved her carefully around people.

He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and twisted the cap off before placing it in her hands. ”Drink.”

She held the bottle with both hands like it required actual concentration.

Garrett leaned against the counter watching them. ”Dude. Maybe you should take her upstairs and put her to bed. She’s obliterated.”

”Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

She took two tiny sips before looking up sadly.

”Dean?”

”Yes, baby.”

”My shoe’s gone.”

”I know.” Dean said patiently.

”I really liked those shoes.”

”I’m sure they liked you too.”

That made both her and Garret laugh, before she nearly tipped sideways again.

”Okay. Let’s get you upstairs now.”

She clung onto him the entire way upstairs, arms looped loosely around his neck whenever she stumbled while Dean kept both hands steady on her waist to keep her upright.

By the time they reached his room, she was giggling at absolutely nothing.

Dean shut his bedroom door behind them, muffling the party downstairs slightly.

”Alright.” He said gently. ”Sit down.”

She dropped heavily onto his bed.

Dean crouched to pull off her remaining heel before tossing it near his closet.

Then he looked up at her properly. Still drunk. Still blinking slowly. Hair a mess.

He sighed quietly before standing and grabbing one of his t-shirt from his dresser. ”You need help to put this on?”

”Yes.”

Dean helped her zip of the tight dress she had been wearing, and pulled the t-shirt over her head. After some struggle she was now only wearing his shirt and a pair underwear.

”It smells like you.”

”That’s usually how my clothes work.”

That earned a laugh from her.

He kicked off his shoes. And took of everything but his boxers, and then climbed into bed next to her. Tugging a blanked over them as they laid down.

The second he settled against the pillows, she practically collapsed onto him.

Arms wrapping around his waist. Face buried against his chest. Legs thrown over his.

”I love you.” She whispered.

Dean’s expression softened instantly.

”I love you too, baby.”

[katiejohnnypilled]

THINKING OF YOU ♡

— he can’t give you what you want.

I had tried for weeks to move on , to not think about the blonde boy from nights ago .

I mean he had his reputation right? It was stupid to assume I was any different.

But yet I couldn’t stop because it wasn’t just sex , or atleast it wasn’t just that to me. Dean had done more with me , sure we had sex but we talked , we watched movies , we ordered food and we went out.

It was good for a month before he went back to the way it was before , simple passing comments and flirting teases when I was around . Usually I would be able to give it back but I couldn’t anymore , I couldn’t do it.

Not when I was always thinking about and he wasn’t thinking about me.

It was a friday night after hockey and , as usual , the boys had thrown a party. I had debated not going but Hannah wanted to go for garrett and allie had practically forced me to get ready.

That’s what lead me to be sitting outside on the little stupid , hand painted bench they had in the garden . I didn’t even get a drink , I said hello to a few people and left to go sit outside by myself .

I had made eye contact with dean for only two seconds when I walked in however when I was walking out he was getting handsy with a blonde girl in the kitchen , i couldn’t take it.

The garden was quiet beside the music leaking in from the party happening behind me . It was so quiet that when the door opened I jumped and pressed my hand to my heart.

“Sorry , didn’t mean to scare you.” The voice said from behind me , I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was because I had heard it say sweet nothings to me for so long that it became a constant noise in my head.

I kept my mouth shut , my eyes on the ground and my head down as dean approached the bench and sat beside me , a beer in his hand.

“Why are you out here? It’s much more fun in there.”

“I wanna be out here.”

“Don’t wanna party with your friends?”

“No.”

“Okay then , quiet treatment.” He said from beside me and it made me roll my eyes but I still couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t do it because I was weak , I was weak and too involved with someone who clearly didn’t feel anything , for anyone.

“You weren’t my girlfriend.” He added on.

“Yep , wasn’t your girlfriend.”

“Did you think you were?”

“No.”

“Did you want to be?”

I fell silent , my voice just shut down and I couldn’t get any words out because that’s what I wanted. That’s what I wanted the most but I wasn’t going to embarrass myself by admitting that. I would only get hurt more.

“I would be an awful boyfriend to you , y/n. I couldn’t do that to you.”

“So why keep me around?” I managed to whisper out to him , trying to get some idea of what his mind looked like when he thought of me.

“I liked having you around , I really did like you.”

“Did?”

“Do. I do like you but that doesn’t change that fact I wouldn’t be a good boyfriend.”

“And you don’t want to even try?”

“I don’t want to try anything that will break your heart.”

And with that he left , he got up from the seat beside me and went back to the house as hot tears finally started to stream down my cheeks.

He didn’t even want to try for me? The idea of us trying was so horrible to him? My heart was already broken. He couldn’t break it anymore .

————————

When I was leaving later on into the night I shamefully looked around the house one last time , trying to catch a glimpse of the blonde haired boy.

“He’s in his room.” Garrett said from beside me , clearly being able to tell what I was looking for.

“Oh.”

“Not with a girl.” He was quick to add , “he was.. i don’t know . He’s being weird.”

“Yeah , weird.” Weird was barely the right word to describe dean , dean was everything that I couldn’t understand. The hardest equation I had ever faced.

“I wouldn’t give up , he’s very stuck in his ways but you’re you and dean likes you.”

I didn’t reply to garrett , i just grabbed my jacket and left.

I didn’t know if I could believe dean liked me , not when he did everything to avoid being with me.

[rgntthragg]

Challengers

☄︎ Warnings: NSFW, threesome, not proofread, everybody smoochin, reader is a lil mean, ☄︎ Pairing: F!Reader x Dean Di Laurentis, F!Reader x John Logan, Dean x Reader x Logan ☄︎ Rating: 18+, MDNI ☄︎ Words: 6427 ☄︎ AN: i got SO carried away here. written for this ask, hashtag bring back challengers summer!! i was raised by katherine pierce so her vibe is here too. i love mean (to men) women <3 also sorry for the pic idk how to use photoshop lol i cannot stress enough that i haven't proofread this and i don't have the energy to so good luck!

🎵 Listening to 🎵 Candy - Doja Cat

Hockey away games were your favourite.

On campus, you lived in a bubble that you could not escape, not that you wanted to. Your whole life was planned out; finishing university and then go on to become the top tennis player in the country, after that the world. You had the talent and skills to do both now, but completing university with a top degree had to be your focus. You didn’t want your only skill in life to be hitting a ball with a racquet.

Your professors were demanding, your coursework unrelenting, and your coach would have you pushing your body to limits that you didn’t even know existed. You didn’t have the time, nor the emotional bandwidth, for distractions.  

And that worked just fine for you. Distractions offered nothing for you. Without the crushing weight of the obligations that you had imposed on yourself, you couldn’t breathe. The demand for perfection outweighing any other want you could have.

Off campus, was a different story entirely, you allowed yourself the momentary distraction. While you knew that tennis was your fated love, you couldn’t ignore the draw to hockey. The Briar U hockey team were always more aggressive when they played away, as if they had something to prove. That’s probably what drew you to hockey. The raw athleticism and passion exuding from every player was dizzying. The boos from the opposition’s home crowd only spurred them on. You had to press your legs together at every match.

When you were 50 miles away from the university, you weren’t the you that demanded perfection from yourself, there’s something so thrilling about forgetting yourself. Instead, you sought it in others.

You really loved away games; you’d always returned to campus refreshed. With a glow that only could come from the feeling of being reckless. You excused yourself to do things you knew you shouldn’t, with people you shouldn’t. Usually, that meant you were sneaking in a hockey player from the opposing team into your room, but recently, something within you had snapped, you wanted to play closer to home. After all, what happened at an away game, stayed between the four walls of whatever hotel it happened in.

You stood in the brightly lit hallway of the hotel the team was staying at. The hotel’s they stayed at were always immaculate, only the best for the stars of Briar U. The players were always allocated their own rooms unless they specified otherwise, but you knew that both Dean Di Laurentis and John Logan were in this one together. And they were waiting for you.

You’ve known of them both for a while now, having spent semesters watching them compete for the highest grades, glory on the ice, and, eventually, for your attention. The first time you had really seen them was at one of your matches. When you played, there was always a large crowd, all on the edge of their seats. You knew how to put on a show and you knew how to win, and people loved to see all the new ways in which you’d dominate the court.

You’re not sure how, or why, you were able to pick them out of all the people there. Perhaps it was the way they looked at you, one and the same expression on two different faces.

That day, they were both sat leaning forward in the crowded bleachers, elbows on their knees. The blonde, Dean you later found out, watched your every movement without blinking, his mouth slightly parted. The dark haired one, Logan, had an intensely focused expression, his jaw clenched. They didn’t track the movement of the ball like the other spectators; they had just watched you.

That’s when you had started to really pay attention to them during their hockey games. You’d alternate between jerseys, sometimes wearing 22 and sometimes 66, it all depended on who you, in your expert opinion, played the best or who performed the best in class. Any attention you gave one fuelled the other, they were smarter in class because of it. They were more aggressive on the ice because of you. As much as it pleased you to see, really, you were doing them a favour.

Outside of hockey matches and the occasional shared lecture, they barely saw you. You ignored every invite sent for one of their infamous house parties; cheap alcohol, drunk people, and loud crowds that weren’t cheering for you had never been your scene. Being so elusive meant that every minute mattered when it came to earning your attention, and you never gave them enough time to ever feel satisfied, always chasing the next hit of you.

So, you waited for 10 minutes before you knocked on their door. You had already arrived 15 minutes later than you said you would. The wait was torturous for you too. Anticipation had pooled deep in your belly. You weren’t dumb, you know that they had invited you over in the hopes that you’d finally choose one of them. But you weren’t going to choose. The rivalry meant too much to you. They may not be ready to admit it, but it meant the same to them.

While you wouldn’t choose tonight, you would give them some encouragement. There was only so long you could puppet them without having touched either of them. Besides, they had earnt a piece of the thing that you knew they were craving. You.  

The last few games you went to, they were at peak performance. You were pleased.

Enough time had passed, so you raised your hand to knock firmly on the door. You smiled as you immediately heard the muffled sound of blankets being kicked off, followed by a heavy thud and a “watch it, dickhead.” Two seconds later, the deadbolt clicked and the door swung open.

Dean Di Laurentis stood in front of you, chest puffed forward as if he hadn’t just run to the door. He was wearing nothing but grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips. His damp hair was pushed back, and a slow, familiar smirk played on his lips as his eyes tracked down your body and back up to your face. You were wearing gym shorts and a tank top, simple, but it was tight and showed off your curves.

Dean didn’t stand back to let you in. Instead, he lent one thick forearm against the doorframe and tilted his head down to you. “Look who finally decided to show up,” Dean jabbed, you could tell he was annoyed at you for making him wait. You revelled in thinking about how easily he’d lose his anger once you smiled at him.

“I’m so sorry I kept you waiting,” you pouted a little and looked up at him.

The heat in Dean’s eyes immediately died, as it always did when it came to you. He didn’t move though; he stared at you as you watched him with a seductive playfulness.

“Are you going to let me in or are you planning on standing there looking pretty all night?” You asked smoothly, crossing your arms over your chest.

A voice from inside the room interrupted the staring competition. “Just let her in, Dean.”

Dean rolled his eyes and stepped aside. You dragged your hand against his bare chest as you slipped past him and entered the room. Logan was sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed; his legs crossed at the ankles. He also wore nothing up top, but he had a pair of shorts on instead of sweatpants.

The room was as brightly lit as the hallway. It was also small, dominated by the double bed in the middle of it. The TV was on but muted, a hockey match with teams you did not recognise was playing. On the floor in front of Logan, a laptop was open and there was an iPad with some diagram of an ice hockey rink with a load of circles, arrows, and crosses on it. You had no idea what it meant but you did know it had to do with game tactics.

Even right after a game, they were still thinking about hockey, analysing how to get better. You liked how consumed they were with hockey. How desperately they wanted to be better. Logan was good because he worked at it, Dean was good because he had a natural talent.

“If you boys are too busy for me, I can leave,” you teased, even as you walked further into the room.

“Never,” Dean said as he shut the door and locked it. At the same time, Logan hurriedly shut his laptop with a ‘click’, putting that and the iPad on the desk in the corner.

Logan turned to lean against the desk, his arms crossed as he took you in. “Dean was just explaining his terrible third-period positioning.”

“My positioning was fine,” Dean snapped, though there was no heat in his voice and a competitive spark in his eye. He moved to stand next to you and you both faced Logan. “You’re just mad that you didn’t get the assist.”

“I don’t need the assist when I’m the one scoring,” Logan shot back smoothly. While Dean was watching Logan, Logan was watching you. He wanted to see your reaction to the things he was saying to Dean.  

You let out a soft, amused, hum. Your head turned upwards to look at Dean, his form towering over you. Then your head turned back to Logan.

The contrast between them was an intoxicating combination. Dean had effortless charm and a devastatingly cocky smile. He was loud and he commanded the room by drawing attention. Logan was quieter, almost like he was always calculating his next move. He also commanded a room but through his eyes, they were always dark and intense.

That was their default, but they weren’t always like that. Sometimes, Logan would smile, laugh even. It’d feel like when the clouds parted to reveal the sun.

Especially when jealous, Dean’s jaw would click, his playful smirk hardening into something sharper, something hungrier.

They were two sides of the same coin, two halves that made the whole. That’s also why you would never choose.

“Is that right, Logan? Because from where I was standing, Dean had to pick up your slack in the second period.” Logan’s dark eyes narrowed at you.

Dean let out a sharp laugh, he threw his hands up and looked to the sky. “Finally, someone with eyes. I’ve been telling him that since we left the ice.”

“She’s fucking baiting you, man. She just likes watching us like this.”

You felt Dean’s gaze fall on you, but you were watching Logan with a satisfied smirk. Fair point. “Oh, come on, Logan,” you purred. “Don’t be a sore loser.”

This is the longest you’ve ever been in the same room with both of them; you’d never seen them like this. You usually planted the seed and then left. This time, you planned to be here to reap the rewards of it.

It felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room, their chests were heaving as they made subtle jabs toward one another. All three of you had the same twinkle in your eye.

You turned, kicked off your shoes, and sat at the foot of the bed. “Come here,” you said, patting the bed on either side next to you.

At your command, the arguing immediately ceased. Both Logan and Dean ran to take their place on either side of you. They both turned their body to face you.

You instinctively bit your bottom lip as your head swivelled between them both. Their eyes watched you hungrily, both of their hearts racing as they waited, entirely at your mercy, for your next move.

Who to choose first, you wondered. You felt Logan’s hand begin to snake around your waist so you turned your head to face him, leaning in slightly. His eyes fluttered closed as you leant further in. Just before you fully reached his lips, you pulled back and turned to Dean. Logan was impatient, so Dean gets to have you first.

Your hand tangled in the damp hair at the nape of Dean’s neck as you pulled him in. He tasted like mint, and you wondered if he knew he’d be kissing you tonight. The kiss was full of Dean’s usual confidence; his tongue slid past your teeth with a practised ease. You sighed into Dean’s mouth, and his eyes locked onto Logan’s across the bed, marking his place. Logan watched with ragged breaths as you melted in.

Dean was smiling against your lips a little too confidently so you pulled back, you weren’t only his tonight. Satisfaction flared within you when you looked down to where his sweatpants were tented.  

With a smile, you turned to Logan. Your bottom lip was wet and flushed. Logan didn’t move slowly towards you this time; he leant in and claimed your mouth. His kiss was possessive, his need to be better than another pouring out into you. It was the complete opposite to Dean’s smooth and relaxed kiss.

Dean leant back in, his lips traced a slow path down your neck, pressing kisses as he went along. The kiss with Logan began to get sloppy, spit pooling at the corners of your mouths.

Logan’s hand came to cup your breast whilst Dean’s hand came stroke your thigh. You had them right where you wanted them, but they too, had you.

You pulled away from the kiss with a laugh. “Easy boys,” you cooed. They both pulled away from you but their hands remained where they were. As you leant back against the mattress, Logan’s hand dropped to rest on the thigh Dean wasn’t holding.

You propped yourself up on your forearms. They both look down at you. A slow, wicked, smile spread across your face. “I want to see just how well you play together.” Your voice like a velvety command.

Both of sets of eyes flashed to one another before Logan’s flashed back to you. Dean, ever the life of the party, began leaning in towards Logan. Logan continued watching you until you raised your eyebrows and jerked your head in Dean’s direction.

“Not sure you could handle me?” Dean murmured, voice dropping to a rough whisper.

With that, Logan leant into him. The kiss started entirely too masculine, rough and competitive. The energy and hunger that had been building for months between them finally having an outlet. Even as the kiss began to soften, neither man’s grip on your thighs lessened.

You watched them, a spark of triumph flaring in your chest. The sound of their breathing grew heaving and ragged. A low, involuntary groan was dragged from the back of Logan’s throat, muffled by Dean’s mouth. That caused your thighs to squeeze together. ‘Time to leave,’ you thought to yourself. You weren’t sure you would be able to stop this going further if you didn’t.

“Okay,” you said. That pulled them out of their trance. They sat back, a line of spit connecting them. You took the opportunity to slip out from between them. “I’m going to bed now.”

Both looked up at you with dazed expressions.

“I’m sure you can take care of each other,” you mused as you looked at their dicks, straining against the restraint that their clothes provided.

“Can’t we at least get your number?” Logan begged in the neediest way you’d ever heard.

A sigh escaped your lips. This was a bad idea, this was supposed to stay here and not follow you back to campus, but how could you say no when both sets of eyes pleaded with you like this. “Whoever plays the best over the next five games, can have my number.”

That night in your hotel room, you had to make yourself cum three times just to come down from the image of their joy when you’d given them that sliver of hope.

⋆꙳⛸❅*‧⛸‧*❆₊⛸⋆❆⋆꙳⛸❅*‧⛸‧*❆₊⛸⋆❆⋆꙳⛸❅*‧⛸‧*❆₊⛸⋆❆*❅‧⛸

Once back on campus, it wasn’t as easy for you to slip back into your usual routine as you’d wanted. Involuntarily, your mind would drift back to them, the moments in the hotel room.

Your actions in the room had the outcome you’d planned, they were even better on the ice. But you hadn’t planned for it to affect you in the way that it had. The need hit you at a strength you’ve never felt before.  

You noticed the way their posture straightened when you’d look over to them in passing. They’d both look in your direction when they did anything noteworthy in their games, as if they expected you to be keeping note. You were.

The last of the five games ended with a huge home-game win against Harvard. The arena emptied out, fans, coaches, and the opposition team had all left, but you had stayed. You were sat, waiting for your boys, on a bench not too far outside the double doors.

The rest of the Briar U boys had left 10 minutes ago, they all piled onto a bus, likely to head back to the hockey house for the after party.

It had been a while since you last dressed like this, it was too cold a night for you to be wearing the cute sun dress that you were; it stopped half-way down to your knees. Heat flooded your body; you couldn’t feel the cold. It was weeks since you last wore one of the player’s jersey’s, you didn’t want to show favouritism or potentially bias the results. You were always so fair.  

You turned at the sound of the door slamming open. They walked over to you, determined expressions on their faces. You didn’t rise from the bench as they came to a halt in front of you. They dropped their big duffle bags and crossed their hands behind their backs as they waited for you to tell them their fate.

You let your eyes roam over their bodies. The match was physical; it was some good fucking hockey. Dean had a faint, forming, bruised cut on his jawline, he was smirking down at you. Full of confidence. Hot.

Logan’s face was unmarked, his expression guarded and serious. Also, hot.

“Well?” Dean asked when the silence stretched on for too long. “Don’t keep us waiting, sweetheart.”

It was the first time he had used that nickname with you. You tilted your head up and crossed one knee over the over, deliberately letting your already too short dress rise further up your legs. “You both played wonderfully, I’m very happy.” It was high praise coming from you, both of their chests puffed. “Dean, your assists were flawless, truly. And the way you put your body on the line to block those shots. Mwah, chefs kiss.”

Dean’s smirk widened. Logan’s jaw clenched harder.

“But,” you countered, sliding your gaze up to Logan. “Logan scored the game-winning goal and he hit the Harvard captain so hard, I could hear it from where I was sitting. That is passion.”

Logan let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding as Dean let out a self-pitting laugh. “That’s brutal,” he muttered. “Alright, don’t fuck this up, Logan.

Dean leant down to give you a kiss, you let him. He gave you one last look, before picking up his bag and heading to his car. You watched Logan as the sound of Dean driving away faded into the distance.

“Are you going to give me your number, then?” Logan’s voice was low and gravelly.

You rose from the bench and stepped so close to him that you had to look up through your eyelashes. “My number? Is that all you want? Are you telling me I froze my ass off in this short ass dress for nothing?” You tilted your head. “I think I might have even forgotten to put on underwear.”

You hadn’t.

“Fuck,” Logan breathed, “you’re driving me out of my fucking mind. I did that for you, you know. I played for you.”

“I know,” you purred, a manipulative smirk on your lips. “And you deserve to be rewarded for that.”

A voice in your head reminded you that Dean had also played for you. You wouldn’t forget that. Tonight though, Logan had won you fair and square.

“My car’s parked over there.” Logan pointed to the car in the car corner. He and Dean had opted to drive separately to the rest of the team, knowing one of them would likely be leaving with you.

“I’m fixing it up,” he told you sheepishly as you approached his beat-up car. “It’s a work in progress.” You didn’t really care what his car looked like; you just needed him inside of you.

10 minutes later, you were on Logan’s lap in the back of the car. The two seats at the front of the car were as far forward as they could go. He was leant as bar back as he could, one leg bent on the driver’s side of the car and the other on the passenger’s side. It was cramped, you couldn’t sit up fully and had to lean forward into him. The windows were already fogged up, the heat radiating from your bodies contrasting with the cold night outside. You could barely see the details of his face. This was better, you supposed. You really weren’t supposed to allowing this distraction on campus.

You didn’t need to think about that now, though. Your panties were already discarded, dress hiked up, and his pants were around his ankles. You ground down into him, your naked, slick folds leaving a trail of arousal on his rapidly hardening cock. His hands were holding your hips, not controlling, just resting there.

“That’s it,” he encouraged as your grinding picked up speed.

Logan pressed his lips to yours, heavy and desperate. He bit your lip, not hard enough to draw blood, but with enough force to pull a gasp from you. He used that opportunity to slide his tongue into you, claiming you as he did that night in the hotel.

“Tell me what you want, tell me you need me,” Logan pleaded.

You ground down harder into him in response, eyes rolling back as you found the perfect angle for your clit to get enough friction. You let out little whines as you started rolling your hips. It felt good but it was just not enough.

“More,” you rasped into his neck.

One hand left your hip to grab hold of his throbbing dick, the other gripped harder on your hip, urging your body up. You raised your hips slightly so he could line himself up. He dragged the tip along your folds, his pre-cum mixing with your arousal. He circled your clit with his dick and your thighs shook around him.

 “Stop teasing, I need you to fuck me now,” you moaned.

Logan obliged, you felt the head of his dick glide across your entrance before slowly entering you. As Logan continued to guide you down onto him, his serious, guarded, look had shifted into something entirely more desperate. Your nails dug into him as you fully sat on him.

You look at him through hooded eyes. You feel every vein on his dick as it stands inside of you. It curved in just the right way to be nudging at that sweet spot inside of you.

One hand gripped the seat behind Logan’s head while the other rested against the fogged window as you bounced on his lap. Both hands came back to your waist, giving him the leverage to slap up into you. The car rocks as he fucks you with force. There are no pleasantries, just pure, unadulterated, purpose.

Logan was a grunter, you found. He’d grunt at each flick up of his hips, he grunted as you bit down into his shoulder. The way you wrapped around him so perfectly had his orgasm rising quicker than he anticipated.

“Perfect, you’re so perfect.”

One of his hands left your waist to find your clit. He pressed down, circling you with the same frantic pace as your bounces.

You clenched tightly around him as your orgasm hit you. His pace increased, the sound of your moans as you orgasm having breathed life into him. Logan didn’t last much longer; he came with a grunt. He wrapped his arms around you as he shot warm ropey cum up into you.

Your hips slowly continued to roll as you came down, you could feel him twitching inside of you as you continued milking him.

He kept hold of you even after he had gone soft. You didn’t protest, remaining in his arms, his cock still nestled in you. Gravity had pulled on his cum, it ran down over his shaft, onto his balls, then the seat of the car.  

“Tell me this wasn’t just because I won the bet,” he stuttered into the darkness.

You don’t give him the easy reassurance he was looking for. Instead, you slid off of him and used your discarded panties to wipe his release from where it had flowed out of you. Ignoring the way he looked at you, you wished him a good night as you opened the passenger door and walked home.

⋆꙳⛸❅*‧⛸‧*❆₊⛸⋆❆⋆꙳⛸❅*‧⛸‧*❆₊⛸⋆❆⋆꙳⛸❅*‧⛸‧*❆₊⛸⋆❆*❅‧⛸

You had met, and fucked, Logan many times in the three weeks after you had left him in the back of his car. The release it provided you was like a drug; you couldn’t stop yourself from coming back for more.

You especially needed it because Dean was avoiding you. The only times you saw him in the last three weeks were when you went to his games. He never took his helmet off, so you couldn’t even really see him. He stopped coming to your matches and any lectures that you once shared. The more he avoided, the more you went on the hunt for him. He was a master at evasion.

You had even forced yourself to go to a party on campus that you heard he *might* be at. You did find him, but he had his head buried between this leggy blonde’s legs. The sex with Logan was rough that night, you couldn’t stop talking about Dean. About how his form on the ice had significantly dropped.

But this was on you. One of your boys was drowning, and it was your fault. Logan, while still performing, also didn’t have the passion he once showed on the ice. The last night of the five-game bet just proved to you that they both needed you to be at their best. They needed to be able to compete for you. More importantly, they needed to have an excuse to compete against each other.  

You broke another one of your rules for yourself as you climbed up the fire escape that you knew led to Dean’s room. Logan had so innocently given you a tour, not knowing you were using it as an excuse to plan your way in.

Inside the dimly lit room, Dean was laying on his bed, one arm bent behind his head as he scrolled through his phone. You tapped your knuckles against the glass window, not too loud as to draw the attention of others. His head snapped towards your direction, he wasn’t expecting anyone especially you.

His eyes narrowed at you for what felt like an eternity before he came to slide the window open. You climbed over the desk that was against the wall. His eyes were still full of suspicion, even as he helped you over the desk to standing.

It had been weeks since you last spoke to him. Your heart was fighting its way through your ribs as if it wanted to pop out.

For the first time in a while, you didn’t know what to say. He had every right to be looking at you in the way that he was. You had basically abandoned him. You gave him a slight smile, he didn’t return it, but he did soften.

“Why are you here?” The harsh tone that came out of Dean’s mouth did not match the way his eyes were soft as they roamed over you. Logan had won, and he was doing his best to respect that. But here you were, seeking him out.

“I missed you, is that an acceptable reason?” You pouted. It was pure honesty.

“What game are you playing?” Dean’s eyes scanned yours as he crossed his arms over his chest. He couldn’t tell if you were just a tease or if you were really here for him.

“Why? Do you want to play with me?” you challenged softly. He watched as your tongue darted out to lick your lower lip. You wanted him.

Dean let out a dark, breathless chuckle. He looked down at your lips before looking back into your eyes. He stepped closer to you and you slipped away, going to sit on the edge of his bed.

He turned to follow you, coming to kneel between your open legs. “I want to play,” he said.

Sex with Logan was fast, messy, and hot. But Dean liked to take his time, a master in the art of seduction. He leant back on his knees as he peeled his shirt off. He pressed a kiss to your bare knee and then your inner thigh. “Arms up,” he whispered.

You immediately obliged and he pulled your top over your head. His hand came to cup your breast; he rolled a nipple in between two fingers whilst his other hand kneaded your breast.

You let out a sharp exhale and Dean smirked. He was going to take his time learning everything you liked. He rose up on his knees to take a nipple into his warm, wet, mouth, your hands came to his hair, urging him on. You hadn’t been touched this sensually before, and it was driving you wild.

“I want to taste you; can I do that?” Dean asked, warm breath fanning your erect nipple.

“Mhm.” You mumbled, overcome with need.

“Vocal, I need you to be vocal.” Dean’s voice came through clear against your dazed thoughts.

“Yes, yes, fuck me with your mouth.”

You whined as Dean moved from between your legs to lie back onto the bed.

 “Come take a ride,” he said, gesturing to his face.

You peeled off your shorts and climbed onto him eagerly. You moved up his body until your thighs were caging his face in. His nose brushed against your clit as you lowered down. You leant forward, holding on to the headboard as he used his hands to spread your folds apart.

Flattening his tongue, he licked a long, wet stripe up you. It was agonisingly slow, and you ground down in frustration.

He rubbed his nose against you, “you smell so good.”

“Dean,” you whimpered. You never whimpered. “Please.”

He continued licking around your folds, coming close to your clit then going back down. “How can someone so mean taste so sweet, it’s not fair,” he growled between licks.

There was no shame in you as you grinded down into his face, chasing that high that he wanted to prolong for you. Sensing your urgency, Dean shifted you slightly so he could get easier access to your clit. He licked, sucked, and flicked as you wantonly moaned, not bothering to try and stay quiet.

His hands were on your ass, helping you to drive your hips as he mercilessly went at your clit. You came just as easily for him as you had the first time you slept with Logan. Like your body was always on the precipice of orgasm just waiting for them to release it.

Dean held you as you rode his face through your orgasm. He continued lapping up your arousal.

Once your body stopped twitching. He grabbed your hips and guided you down his body. He kept pushing your hips down until you brushed against his hard dick. Dean looked up at you through hooded eyes.

“I take it you missed me,” you smiled down at him. A genuine one.

You eased yourself down on his dick and rode him as if your life depended on it. And, in some ways, it did.

⋆꙳⛸❅*‧⛸‧*❆₊⛸⋆❆⋆꙳⛸❅*‧⛸‧*❆₊⛸⋆❆⋆꙳⛸❅*‧⛸‧*❆₊⛸⋆❆*❅‧⛸

The next few months continued on in a beautifully orchestrated chaotic mess, only becoming messier when your injury caused you to be unable to play a sport competitively for months. There was so much built within you, and no outlet. There was nothing you could do but channel that though them.

They knew that you were with both of them, using both of them, whispering sweet nothings to both of them. It did wonders for their performance on the ice. It left scouts breathless and opponents bruised, and they were doing it all for you.

The sex got even better, both of them desperately trying to fuck the memory of the other out of you. It was a game you loved to play with them and they willingly participated.

Some nights you’d slip from one room to the other, still smelling like the other man sometimes even wearing their clothes. During the away games they could hear you through the hotel walls, your muffled moans being so close to torture. You’d turn up to Logan’s room with dark, blooming hickeys on your chest. Dean avoided your neck, where anybody could see it. He only needed Logan to know.  

You’d walk into Dean’s room wearing the necklace he knew belonged to Logan. It would dangle in his face as you rode him.

They wouldn’t confront you about it until after the last away game of the season. Both of their doors were left unlocked; they never locked it now as they waited to see which room you’d enter after each game.

You found them both waiting for you in Logan’s room. Dean was sitting on the edge of the mattress. Logan was sitting back against the headboards. Despite the win, the air in the room felt heavy. Both had the same expression on their face.

“So, we’re gathered here today to…?” Both you and Dean smiled, Logan didn’t, not in the mood for a joke.

“You have to choose,” Logan said. “Once and for all. Him or me.”

You looked over at Dean, his head was tilted up in arrogance, then turned your head to look at Logan.

“No,” you said simply. There was no way you’d let this rivalry stop. You needed it to breathe.

Dean smiled, as if he expected that answer. Logan didn’t protest either.

“Am I not taking good enough care of you both?” You voice was dipping with sweet manipulation. You pulled your top over your head letting it drop to the floor.

You weren’t stupid; you knew the real reason they were both in this room together. You knew why they had waited until the season ended to broach this topic. What if you had agreed to choose? Then they’d have no excuse to go against each other the way they did. To look at each other the way they did.

They could hide behind the rivalry they had for you, using your body as the only bridge between them.

“You don’t want me to choose,” you murmured, “because if I pick one, this game ends.” You pulled off the rest of your clothes, stood completely naked in front of them.

The room was consumed with heat in light of the silent truth being brought to light.

“You’re a menace,” Logan rasped.

Dean reached out to grab you and pull you onto the bed. He wasted no time in spreading your legs and settling in between them.

Logan didn’t move an inch from the headboard, but his chest heaved as he watched the way Dean’s mouth moved around where you were most sensitive. Dean was on his knees at the edge of the mattress, his head buried between your thighs.

Dean’s large hands came under your butt, his calloused pals lifting your hips higher off of the sheets to give him better access. At this new angle, he slid his tongue flat and deep into your pussy. You threw your head back, making eye contact with Logan.

“Logan, join me,” Dean called out, his voice rough and breathless between the hot, wet, kisses he pressed to your pussy. “Come taste her.” He didn’t look up, his tongue already sweeping back across your entrance.

Logan finally slid down the mattress and knelt on the bed next to you. Dean focused on tongue fucking you, adding a finger and curling it in you, as Logan focused on your clit.

“Ah~ Fu-Fcuk. My boys, yes.” You were babbling incoherently.  

The two of them worked in a frantic synchronisation. Occasionally, Dean would flick his tongue against your clit, his tongue brushing against Logan’s.

Your hands gripped onto the sheets as they worked you. The sound of them both moaning back into you had you grinding your hips. The feeling of them both finally here overwhelmed you in the best way. Fire pooled low in your belly as the pleasure began to rise until it began to overfill. Your body tensed as you came harder than you ever had, your vision fading to black.  

“That’s it, cum for us, good girl,” Dean mumbled against you. Dean gently lowered your hips back down to the mattress.

As they came up from between your legs, Dean and Logan locked eyes. Dean’s chin glistened with your arousal. They stood up from the bed eyes on the way each other’s pants tented.

This time, Logan was the first to lean in. He licked Dean’s chin before running his tongue along the blonde’s lower lip. They kissed, both tasting of you and their tongues swirled around each other’s mouths.  

You crawled to the floor, sitting on your knees in between them. As you pulled down their boxers, both cocks sprung free. You began working them, licking the leaking slit of one whilst your thumb ran over the slit over the other, then you switched.

They were moaning into each other’s mouths as you worked them with all you had. Dean’s dick was thick, the tip bright pink. Logan’s was a deeper, angrier red. The colours looked so pretty together as you rubbed the tip of their dicks together. They rolled their hips into your hands.

They came like that, grinding against each other in your hands.

All because of you.

[vivierz]

wow..

[officially-overit]

Choso is such a clingy little baby and he can’t go even a few measly hours without his pretty girlfriend

Tags: fluff

Back to Masterlist

Sitting at a cafe with your friends, your conversation is interrupted when you feel your phone buzzing in your pocket.

“Sorry, it’s Cho, I gotta take this.” Your quickly answer the call, bringing your phone to your ear.

“What’s up baby?”

“can you come home…”

His needy and quiet voice is heard on the other end, making you crack a smile at his behavior.

“Are you serious? I’ve only been gone for like, an hour and maybe a half.”

Your hear a small sniffle, not enough to make you think he’s crying, but enough to make you realize just how deep his attachment to you was.

“That’s like, forever though… and I miss you.”

His desperate voice fills your ears, and you glance across from the table to your friends that are giving you a not-so-subtle concerned glare.

“Did he burn the house down?” One of them says, before getting elbowed in the side by the other.

“Baby, give me 30 more minutes and I’ll be home in a flash.”

You hear him whine.

“Choso.”

The hairs on the back of his neck stand up when you call him by his name. Not Cho, not baby, but Choso. The sound alone was like nails on a chalkboard to him.

“Fine…” he groans, not wanting to make you even more mad.

“Thanks Cho!” You beam, flashing a grin.

-

When you arrive home, after accidentally spending a whole 2 hours with your friends rather than the 30 minutes you told your boyfriend you would spend with them, you find Choso curled up on the couch scrolling on his phone.

The sound of you opening the door and putting your keys down make him practically hurl himself off the couch and into your arms.

He’s on you in a second, and you haven’t even kicked your shoes off.

“I missed you so much, it feels like you enjoy torturing me at this point.” He has his face in your neck, tightly wrapping his arms around your waist. “I’m so sorry,” you sarcastically say, “I got caught up in a conversation, and before I knew it, 2 hours had past.”

You can feel the glare that Choso is digging into your neck right now, but you ignore it and cup his face, planting a chaste kiss on his lips.

“My poor boyfriend can’t go 3 hours without me.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, picking you up and carrying you over to the couch.

Placing you down softly, he can’t help but plant kisses all over your face and neck.

“Sorry-“ kiss, “I-“ kiss, “love” kiss, “my girlfriend so much-” kiss, “that I can’t handle being away from her-“ kiss.

After every kiss you couldn’t help but slowly let out more and more giggles, the tingling sensation of Chosos lips making you smile.

“Ok ok, I get it. From now on, you’ll stick by me forever and ever.” You say in a mocking way, but he ignores it and keeps planting kisses all over you.

“Next time, I’m coming with you.”

“That would ruin the whole point of girls night.”

“Nuh uh”

“Yuh huh”

“Nuh uh”

“Yuh hu-“

And before you can finish your poor rebuttal (if you could even call it that), Chosos captured your lips into a desperate kiss.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m just glad you’re with me now.” He snuggles up next to you on the couch, pulling a blanket over you both while you gently tangle your fingers in his hair.

“I’m still coming along next time.” He says, and you can’t help but crack a scoff.

“Nuh uh.”

“Yuh huh.”

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

[princeable]

suguru is obsessed with aftercare...and you apparently

There’s a soft rock song playing in the background when Suguru finally finishes inside you, his hair sticking to his sweat slicked forehead and his eyes looking at you with that soft gentle quality he only reserves for you. 

He swipes his thumb over your cheek as your eyes flutter open, allowing for the last wave of post-orgasmic bliss to wash over you. 

“Hey gorgeous,” Suguru whispers softly, slowly making his way out of you and peppering kisses along your jaw, neck, and chest. 

“Hey loser,” You reply back, smiling up at him as your eyes drift close again. 

Suguru slowly gets up, making you groan as you feel the loss of his weight and his warmth. “Come on, you should shower,” He says, lifting you up with his strong arms and carrying you to the bathroom. 

He strokes at your hair and allows his hands to roam all of you, as if he’s trying to remember you through engraving your body on his fingertips. 

You push at him delicately, creating distance as you stretch out your limbs languidly. 

“I have to shower,” You say faintly, your voice hoarse and your throat a little sore. Suguru closes the distance once again, kissing your lips with fleeting warmth and slowly trailing his hands all across your body again. 

“I don’t see why I have to go for that,” He mumbles in between kisses, alternating from kissing your lips, to your earlobes, to your neck, and to your jaw. 

“I have to shower,” You reiterate, feeling a soft giggle bubble in your throat as you feel his touch hovering over somewhere ticklish. 

“Exactly, let’s go,” Suguru says, dropping his hands to yours and leading you towards the bathtub. 

“I don’t remember showering being a group activity,” You chuckle as you see Suguru pout. 

He shakes his head, his long raven hair falling perfectly over his shoulders and accentuating his form as if giving him an outline. “It is now,” He replies defiantly. 

You shake your head and give him a look that has no heat in it whatsoever—only love, a quiet bubbling love that is subtle but definitely there. “Well you can find someone else to shower with because it won’t be me.” 

Shaking him off of you, you make your way to the shower, stepping in and you’re about to turn on the water before you feel someone wrap their strong arms around your waist. 

Suguru pulls you into a deep kiss, a one that is not messy but slow. It’s slow and it’s purposeful. A love letter laced in tongue. 

He gives you a soft laugh when he hears you moan softly into his lips, pulling back to brush hairs from your face and tuck it behind your ears, “It wouldn’t be the same,” He says finally after looking at you for ages. Stroking at your cheek and holding your jaw. 

“What?” 

“It’d have to be you, it’ll always be you baby.” 

You look at him incredulously, your heart beating a mile a minute before you watch him turn away and walk out of the bathroom, leaving you to shower like you asked. 

You can’t help but miss the way his arms slotted around you perfectly, and the way his breath felt on your skin as he poured out his sentiments. 

When you finish, you see Suguru on the bed, hair wet and wearing a big band tee and long pajama pants, smoking a cigarette while looking out the window. 

You climb on the bed and slot yourself right in between his legs like you belong there—and part of you thinks that in more ways than one, you do belong there. 

He reaches up at your face and cups it in his hands, pulling you down to kiss him. Soft, sweet, and deep like everything is with him. 

He palms at your hair, and kisses you like he means it—like he really wouldn’t want to do this with anyone but you. 

When you pull back you give him a smile, your voice dipped in honey and totally saccharine, “You smell like cigarettes.” 

He laughs, “You know you love it.” 

“Yea i do.” 

[flvvffy]

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . ❝ 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐔𝐏, 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘...❞

wc: 628. not proofread. anon.

you were not much of a talker. and you boyfriend suguru knew that. he understood that. and because of that, he learned that small actions were signals that you wanted something.

you would stare at something for way too long at the store and he knew you liked it. you wouldn't take your eyes off of it until he grabbed your attention. "you like it, baby", he would ask, his height towering over you and playing with your hair.

"yeah..."

"do you want it?", you only stare at him, not really wanting to say anything. you didn't want to be ungrateful. "it's okay I'll buy it for you", he flashed you a smile and gave you a small peck on the cheek before taking it off the shelf and paying for it.

when you want to cuddle, you would walk up to hin and grab his hand then lead him onto the bed or the couch. he would lay with you, your head resting on his chest listening to his heartbeat as he's caressing your thigh and kissing the top of your heard occasionally whispering sweet nothings.

sometimes you just sit on his lap when you want attention while he's either working or playing video games. he smiles and presses a soft kiss on your lips as you make yourself comfy. "you're gonna have all my attention when i'm done, cutie"

suguru almost always catches you staring at his food whenever you're out to eat. your boyfriend's food just looks so much more scrumptious. you try to make it subtle but he sees it. he picks some up with his fork/spoon/chopsticks and places it near your mouth. "say ahhhh....", he says and you open your mouth taking a bite of his food. it really was delicious.

"it's really good", you say and he smiles.

"mhmmm... if you want we can eat together", he pushes his plate between the both of you. you just can't help but think how sweet he is.

you always help suguru relax after he comes back from work. completely exhausted and all suguru can think of is enjoying a nice dinner and bath then cuddling with you on your shared bed.

although he understands that you're too shy to express yourself to him at times, that doesn't mean he's not gonna tease you.

you walk up to suguru and tug on his sleeve. he knows that means that you want a kiss, but he's gonna act clueless, just because he can. "what's the matter sweatheart?", he asks a stupid smirk on his face.

"uhh...", you're trying to come up with words but nothing. so you just stare at him and tug at his sleeve again, hoping he got the message this time.

"sweetie, i'm not just gonna understand you if you don't talk", he plays with the ends of your hair and you feel lile combusting. why was he doing this to you?

you sat in silence again but nothing. realizing that he really wasn't gonna do anything, you breathe out and gather your words. "i-i....want a...kiss", you say quietly.

"what's that? i didn't hear you. speak up pretty...", your heart is beating more rapidly now and your cheeks are getting warmer. but he's not showing signs of mercy.

frustrated you let it all out. "i want a kiss, suguru", he chuckles.

"you could've just said so", he pulls you by your waist, placing one hand behind your neck and placing a soft but passionate kiss on your awaiting lips. he pulls you impossibly closer to you, deepening the kiss only letting go to take in a breathe before tasting your addictive lips again.

suguru pulls away, the both of you breatheless, his forehead on yours. "that wasn't so hard now was it?..."

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 © 𝐅𝐋𝐕𝐕𝐅𝐅𝐘

[rengoatku]

Skin to skin

Moments like these made you feel vulnerable in a way you couldn’t explain, sitting under him, bare, it was unlike anything you had ever experienced. “You okay, pretty girl?” Suguru’s voice drowned out that small one nagging you inside of your head. “Yeah… yeah I’m good.”

You had intimacy with Suguru before, each time he had held you in his arms and cradled you in such a way that can only be described as limerence. His violet eyes bore into yours, holding your gaze as he worshipped every inch of your skin. Yet, for some reason, tonight his usual affectionate gaze made you feel small, tightening your chest.

His gentle touches ignited fire atop your clammy skin in an unfamiliar manner. His mouth was hot on your skin but it didn’t feel right. The usual care felt suffocating. Not because of him, no, something deeper. Your lungs felt tight, throat running dry as you tried to breathe.

“Sugu stop, I don’t think I want to…” Your voice trailed off, your words felt heavier, as if a lump had settled in your throat. “Yeah? That’s okay, it’s okay we can stop.” In seconds he was off from on top of you, “Do you want my shirt, some shorts?” You shook your head, dragging him into bed next to you.

Suguru pulled the covers over you both before tugging you closer to him. He smelled nice, something floral hidden under those earthy scents he always wore. His cascading hair occasionally tickled your neck whenever he would lean in to kiss you. Soft, plump lips gently dancing over your cheeks.

“Have I ever told you that you are the prettiest woman I have ever laid eyes on?” The softness of his voice soothed you, like melodies playing into your ears. “I think you tell me that a lot, Sugu.” You giggled, hand coming up to brush his bang out of his eye.

His hand intertwined with yours, bringing it up to his lips to place a tender kiss on your flesh, “Not enough, never enough.” The action was so innocent, so sweet; it truly felt as if, for once in your life, maybe you were seen.

Your clammy skin stuck to his as he pulled you closer, legs intertwining and lips brushing your earlobe with every sweet nothing he mumbled. “I believe I would find you in every life because you truly are the one for me, sweetheart.” Each word settled warm beneath your ribs, sweet enough to make your chest ache.

Before you knew it, hot tears were slipping from your eyes and onto the pillow below. “Sweet girl, what’s the matter?” His words were as tender as his actions, large hands cupping your damp cheek in an attempt to get you to look at him. “I love you so much, so much.” Your voice wavered, hands curling around his neck to bring yourself impossibly closer to him.

Suguru brought his hand to your hair, gently cooing until your tears subsided. You felt him press a lingering kiss on your forehead, “I love you more than you could ever know.” His words were mumbled into your skin, etching themselves into your brain.

Bare torsos pressed flush together, no barrier between your bodies and yet you felt nothing but warmth and comfort. You lay naked next to your lover, vulnerable in the most intimate way and somehow this is where you felt safest.

Love isn’t always grand declarations or sensual touches. Sometimes, love was something warm, that bittersweet feeling of not knowing how to express yourself while somehow being completely understood by the one you held dearest.

a/n: somewhat based on true events (it’s so eh I want able to convey the emotions I felt while writing this)

[incase0femergency]

NEED PART TWO OF WHEN DID YOU GET HOT IT’S SO GOOD. 

when did you get hot? (part two) ask and I shall deliver!! I didn't think anyone was going to even like that fic but I'm so happy y'all did. hopefully part two is up to your standards. I got a little carried away with the word count :) word count: 4.0k playlist:

-- ruin the friendship by taylor swift -- juna by clairo -- back to friends by sombr

Your eyes opened in shock at a loud banging on your door. Or, not your door? You shot up confused about to ask where the fuck you were but a hand shot over your mouth. You turned towards the perpetrator and realized you were still in Dean’s bed. In Dean’s clothes. And the voice outside the door was none other than your idiot brother. Looking for you. 

“Morning, baby doll.” Dean whispered at you, looking way too composed for the shit show that was about to happen if you were caught in his bed. 

“Dean, my brother is outside, what the fuck are we gonna do?” 

“Just go get in the bathroom and turn the shower on, I’ll tell him I have a girl in here.” 

You practically launched yourself off the bed and into the bathroom, tripping on Dean’s sweatpants while he laughed at your panic. You flipped him off and slammed the door shut behind you. 

“Dean!” Your brother yelled from outside. “Why is your door locked, man? Are you dying?”

“I like a little privacy from time to time, Garrett.” He yelled back while slowly walking towards the door to open it for your brother. 

“You’re being suspicious.”

“You think everything is suspicious.” Dean paused, looking towards the bathroom at the sound of the shower turning on. “Can we hurry this up? I have a beautiful woman waiting for me in that bathroom and only 2 hours until practice.” 

“Where’s my sister?”

Dean shrugged casually. “Thought she went home.”

“At two in the morning? I thought you were with her?” 

“You act like I’m monitoring her location. I have no idea where your sister went last night.” You tried not to laugh from your eavesdropping position in the bathroom. If your brother only knew how big of a lie that was. 

Garrett squinted at Dean. “Why do you look nervous?”

“I look amazing, thanks man.” Garrett finally let out a loud laugh at that and told Dean to let him know if he found his sister anywhere or heard from her. Dean just said something about a possible hangover and locked the door again. 

You creeped out of the bathroom slowly, making sure your brother was gone, before you and Dean fell into a fit of laughter. That was a little too close for either of you to be comfortable. You both waited until you heard Hannah and Garrett leave for the day before heading down so Dean could drive you back to your dorm. The ride was quiet and charged, like neither of you wanted to say anything about the previous night but knew you should. 

“Thank you” You finally said quietly, a joking tone to your voice. “For last night. I really appreciate you taking care of me, I know you would’ve rather been hooking up with one of those girls.” 

“I didn’t.” When you looked over at him confused he continued. “I didn’t want to be hooking up with one of those girls, I had fun last night.”

Your face went a bright red as Dean finally pulled onto your street. He insisted on walking you up to your dorm and told you to give him his clothes later, or never, he said they looked better on you anyways. You shut the door behind you and slumped your back onto it, letting yourself sink to the floor. 

You were so gone for him. 

After that morning, avoiding Dean became your full time job. You would sprint the other way if you saw him coming, avoid going out with your brother and his friends, and make up any excuse you could think of to miss the hockey games. Dean seemed to take that personally. It took him 2 weeks to learn your schedule. 

The first time he “randomly” found you was outside of your morning Bio lecture. You walked out of your classroom barely paying attention, water bottle in one hand and the other shoved into your bag looking for your lip balm, and ran straight into him. 

Dean grinned down at you. “Hey Graham. Long time no see”  

You rolled your eyes at him instantly. “Why are you here? You have no classes in this building.”

“I was just taking a walk. The dining hall over here is better than the one by the gym.” Dean cursed himself for using that as the excuse. You definitely knew he was lying. The athlete dining hall was the best one on campus. 

“You came all the way across campus, away from your classes, and your house, to get dinner at the shitty dining hall with the worst food on campus?” You raised your brows at him, your tone teasing despite the sincerity of your question. 

“Missed you too.” His grin widened. You turned and started walking in the opposite direction. 

“You know, avoiding me is getting a little offensive, baby doll!” 

You flipped him off without looking back, smiling despite yourself. 

The second time he found you was worse. You were just trying to get a study session in when your sorority sister and roommate, Katie, came into your dorm with a shit eating grin on her face. 

“Your boyfriend is downstairs.” She didn’t miss the way your head whipped around at the word boyfriend, laughing at your reaction. “He’s insisting that you come downstairs.”

“Tell him I’m not here.”

“I already tried that. He said he knows you're here because you told your brother you were home 2 minutes ago.” Traitors, you thought, everyone you knew was a traitor. You rolled your eyes but got out of your chair and put your pyjama pants on to go down anyways. Katie laughed at the put out expression on your face and pushed you towards the stairs. 

Dean was sitting on your couch holding two drinks. One of them looking suspiciously like your usual order from the coffee shop next to Malone’s. 

“Di Laurentis, what do you need?” You quipped once you got to the bottom, leaning against the wall as he hopped over the back of your couch with the drinks. 

“I brought you a peace offering.” He held the drink out to you and you reluctantly took it. You took a sip and looked up at him. It was your usual order. 

“How do you know my order?”

“Hannah said you always get the same thing.”

Your stomach flipped despite yourself. “You’re stalking me.”

“I am not. You’re avoiding me.”

“I’m busy.”

“With what?”

“Future doctor stuff, sorority stuff, you know. Stuff.” You shrugged, trying to seem unbothered by the fact he asked Hannah for your coffee order. 

“Stuff?” He raised one eyebrow at you, holding back a laugh. “Really good excuse, baby doll. Well, if you’re not too busy with stuff you should come to the hockey game on Friday.”

“I can’t.” He tilted his head at you, as if asking for you to go on with your excuse. “I’m gonna be busy on Friday, hating hockey.”

Dean laughed loudly before telling you to think about it and heading out. You sighed wistfully and took another drink of the coffee. It was even better than usual. 

“You are so gone, girl.” Katie said, standing at the top of the stairs. And she was right. You were. 

The third time Dean showed up out of nowhere it wasn’t on purpose. Mostly. You were halfway through organizing samples when Dr. Robinivatch walked into the lab with a familiar face behind him. 

“Y/N,” He said distractedly as another one of your research partners asked him a question. “Can you help me with this athlete intake form?”

You turned around and froze immediately. 

“No fucking way.” 

“Do you two know each other?" Dr. Robinvatch said with a small smile gracing his features, looking between the two of you. 

“He’s a friend of my brother.” Dean walked towards you to sit down and you slapped his hand away from touching your pen. “Don’t touch anything, dummy.”

Dean’s eyes scanned over you and suddenly you became painfully aware of the state you were in, much different than when you were at the party. Your hair pulled back messily into a bun, lab goggles leaving prints around your eyes, marker stains all down your arms, pink lab coat over your lululemon leggings. Focused intently on writing about your samples. But Dean didn’t seem to mind your state, if anything, he looked wrecked by it. 

“What?” You asked, turning to busy yourself by getting the athlete forms for your professor. 

“Nothing, nothing.” Dean smiled, softer than normal. “You’re so scary in here.”

Dr. Robinivatch laughed from behind you. “She’s the best research assistant I’ve had in years.”

You tried your best to ignore the way Dean’s eyebrows raised at that. “What are you researching?”

“Genetic mutations in athletes for faster recovery during injury and rest.”

“You’re such a smart ass.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment, finally finding the form you needed. “I told you, D, some people developed useful hobbies.”

Dean laughed instantly and you rolled your eyes again, smiling despite yourself. Just like that, all that hard work avoiding him was out the window, all because of is stupid laugh. 

You worked through the worksheet quickly, Dean only distracting you a few times to ask you little questions about the lab and Dr. Robinavitch. He actually was being helpful for once. By the time you finished you were exhausted, you had filled out the forms before but never after a 6 hour lab day. Dean took that chance figuring you’d be nicer the more tired you were. 

“Come to the game.” 

You looked up from your notes immediately. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“I hate hockey.”

“You don’t hate me. Or your brother. Or Logan. Or Tucker.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Not relevant.”

“I think you need a break too. It’ll be fun. You can come, hate on us all night, then I’ll buy you food after, it’s like I'm paying you to hang out with me.”

You laughed at that and shook your head. Gathering the last of your supplies up to clean. Maybe you could stand to have a night off of working, studying, or avoiding Dean. And it would be nice to see Ally and Hannah. 

“Fine.” Dean grinned at you. “But only if you do these dishes for me.” 

He jumped up ready to get you to come to the game at any cost. “Yes ma’am.”

Friday rolled around faster than you had liked. Your room was starting to look like a tornado as Katie sat on the bed watching you try on outfit after outfit. 

“Are you sure you don’t like this guy?” Katie said from her position on the bed, standing to help you piece together an outfit. 

“Yes.” Katie shot you a look and waved to the mess around the room. “This isn’t for him, I just want to look good.”

Katie shook her head but dropped the subject anyways, grabbing you from the shoulders and leading you toward your bed where she had picked out your perfect outfit. You got dressed as quick as you could considering Hannah and Allie sent you a text 10 minutes ago saying they were 20 minutes from getting you. Your drive to the rink was lively, the three of you chatting about your week and singing along to random songs, but the second you got the the rink you were hit with a wave of nerves. You did really hate hockey despite all the jokes about it. Your father had made sure of it. 

You pushed yourself out of your comfort zone and sucked the panic in your chest up. The three of you sat by the glass, Garrett immediately skating over to say hi and show how shocked he was to see you. You were only half paying attention. The other half of your attention was spent searching for Dean. You cursed yourself. You shouldn’t be looking for him. You shouldn’t like him at all. He found you before you found him, unfortunately and skated over to motion something stupid to you through the glass which had you in a fit of laughter. Allie and Hannah gave each other a knowing look at the sight of the two of you but kept quiet. 

The game wasn’t as boring for you as usual. The team Briar was playing was decent but the boys looked really good on the ice. Briar was tied by the first period’s end. 3-3. Every time they scored you, Hannah, and Allie screamed as loud as you could, cheering for Briar to win, which Dean found adorable. The game ended 6-5 in Briar’s favor which left you grinning from ear to ear. If only your father could see you now, having fun at a hockey game, slightly head over heels for a hockey player. The three of you waited for the boys outside of the stadium which took forever but you took the chance to get to know more about them. 

“Baby doll, you ready?” Dean’s voice called startling you in the middle of your story.

“Baby doll?” Allie looked amused, raising her eyebrow and motioning between the two of you.

“He’s an idiot and gives stupid nicknames, don’t worry about it.” You tried smoothly. “Yeah, I’m ready. Where are we going?”

“Malone’s for some victory drinks with the team and then you and I can go wherever.” Dean finished with a wink pulling you toward his car and waving at the girls. 

“Oh shut up” You laughed, crawling into the front seat of his car. 

When the two of you arrived at Malone’s you were swarmed with the unwelcome sound of terrible music and the smell of tequila on everyone’s breaths. Apparently you weren’t fast enough because the team had already done 2 rounds of shots by the time you and Dean walked in the doors. Garrett spotted the two of you first and pushed in the middle of you, putting his arms around your shoulders. 

“I can’t believe you actually just sat through an entire hockey game.” Your brother laughed. “Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”

You shoved your brother off and dramatically rolled your eyes. He moved away from the two of you and Dean was behind you lightly touching your lower back to guide you towards the table where your friends were. 

“You survived!” Allie called when she saw you. “And you looked like you had fun.”

“I saw you scream louder than Hannah during the second period.” Dean added smugly, pushing you into the booth and sliding in next to you. 

“This is slander and lies.”

“This is all witness testimony.”

You elbowed Dean beside you while everyone laughed. Drinks were shoved at the two of you instantly after that. Between Beau doing dramatic retellings of the game and Garrett arguing with Logan about nothing the night blurred together into comfortable chaos. Dean sat beside you the entire time. Not touching or flirting too hard, just there. 

Every once in a while he would bump your knee with his or lean in a little too close under the guise of hearing you better and every single time your brain short circuited at the proximity. Which was exactly what had you excusing yourself to the bathroom 20 minutes later. 

You splashed cold water on yourself. This was getting bad. Your crush was doing nothing but grow and you were losing your ability to filter what came out of your mouth the more drinks were shoved your way. Somewhere between lab visits and coffee deliveries to your sorority, Dean had become a little more than just your brother’s friend. You exhaled softly before pushing the bathroom door open, freezing when you heard Dean’s name come out of two girl’s mouths in the hall. 

“I’m serious.” One said, reapplying her lip gloss while her friend held the camera open for her. “He literally turned me down.”

The other girl gave a bewildered look. “Are you sure Dean Di Laurentis is the one you were talking to?”

“Yes, apparently he hasn’t hooked up with anyone in weeks.” The first girl said, nodding emphatically. 

“Maybe he’s in love.”

The two girls burst out laughing like it was the most ridiculous thing they’d ever heard. You tried to shake the blooming feeling in your chest. Dean Di Laurentis did not do relationships. And he definitely didn’t do them with you. You shook the thought out of your head only to stop short at the sight in front of you at the bar. There Dean was. Talking to some pretty blonde, leaning down to hear her better, smiling like he always did at girls who flirted with him. You thought you were gonna be sick. 

“You okay?” Hannah spoke from beside you. Following your view towards the bar before humming in understanding. You jumped slightly at her voice before ripping your eyes away from Dean and towards Hannah. 

“I’m fine.” Hannah looked unconvinced but nodded anyways. You rushed back towards the booth, shaking the tears coming on out of your eyes. You were fine. 

Unfortunately for you, Dean happened to see the whole rushing away scene instead of you being able to push out of Malone’s before anyone caught you. His smile faded and he excused himself abruptly from the conversation, pushing through the crowd until he was in front of you, hands on your shoulders stopping you from going to the door. 

“Hey.” You pushed his arms down but he stepped to the side before you could move around him. 

“Baby doll, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You said, pursing your lips and avoiding his eyes. “Move, Dean.” 

“Bullshit, talk to me.”

You pulled away from him once again and he followed you out of the door as you left. “Go back inside to your friend, Dean.”

His brows furrowed as he caught your wrist, spinning you towards him again. The music only a background noise now as your glazed over eyes met his.

“Why are you upset?” 

“I’m not upset.” You turned to walk away from him. 

“You’ve been avoiding me for weeks and now you’re running away from me. I think there’s a problem, baby doll.” The nickname set you off, you spun back around to him and poked your finger into his chest. 

“You know what my problem is, Di Laurentis?” You poked his chest again. 

“Kinda, yeah.” He blinked, looking down at your finger on his chest. 

“My problem is you keep doing this shit.”

“Doing what?”

“This!” You gestured around wildly, raising your voice now. “Showing up everywhere, and convincing me to come to this stupid fucking game and this stupid fucking bar, and flirting with me and making me think, ugh, forget it.”

“Making you think what?” Dean stepped closer now, the look in his eyes unrecognizeable as he pulled your wrist toward him again. 

“I don’t know.” Your laugh came out bitterly. “That you actually liked me or something.”

“Y/N.” Dean stared back at you. Your eyes filled with tears again and you let out another bitter laugh before going to turn away but before you could Dean put his hand on your hip and pulled you closer.  

“But that’s stupid, isn’t it?” You shook your head, quickly continuing. “Because you flirt with anything that moves. That girl in there probably thinks you like her too.”

Realization flashed across Dean’s face. And then turned into disbelief. Then something you thought looked a little too close to frustration. 

“The blonde at the bar?” Dean asked stupidly and you nodded.

“I don’t care who she was. It’s not like you owe me an explanation.”

“You’re an idiot.” Your eyes snapped up from where they were staring at your feet, about to lecture him again. “That is Beau’s cousin, Natalia.” 

“Oh.”

Dean ran a hair and laughed in disbelief. “Did you really think that I’ve been following you around campus because I’m bored? That I learned your coffee order, your schedule? For what? To get in your pants?” 

“You always do crazy stuff for girls. Garrett said you did.”

“No,” He said immediately. “Not that crazy.”

He stepped closer again. No space left between the two of you, and pulled your chin up so you’d look at him. 

“I’ve been losing my mind about you since that party.” he admitted quietly. “You think I haven’t noticed every time you run away from me you’re blushing?” 

“Dean-”

“You avoid me for weeks but then you smile at me and cheer for me and you wear my clothes around your house–” 

“I gave your clothes back!”

“You kept the shirt. You were wearing it when I brought you coffee.”

The blush on your face deepened and you let out a shy laugh. Dean looked entirely too pleased before his eyes softened again. 

“I like you, Y/N.” His voice dropped quieter. “A lot.”

You stared at him for a little too long. Losing your words everytime you tried to open your mouth. Then finally. Finally after weeks. 

“I’ve been avoiding you because I like you too.” Your face burned and you shoved your forehead towards Dean’s chest. You felt like you were in high school again. 

“Jesus, Graham.” He sighed above you. “I was starting to think you actually did hate me.”

“I do hate you”

“There she is.” You looked back up at him to see his shit eating grin, ready to give a retort, but before you could Dean cupped your face and brought you into a kiss. 

The kiss was warm and messy and slightly desperate like both of you were starving for the other. Your hands moved to grab at the front of his shirt and Dean pulled you closer automatically like he couldn't help it. When you finally pulled apart you both were breathless. Dean rested his forehead against you with a stupid smile. 

“You know,” He said, amused. “For someone who hates hockey players–”

“Finish that sentence and I’m making you tell my brother about this alone.” Dean just laughed and pulled you toward his car. Ready for the two of you to go back to his already

What you didn’t realize was that across the room, just inside the entrance of Malone’s, your brother had gone completely still. Garrett stood in the doorway beside Hannah, staring directly at the retreating form of the two of you. At Dean’s hand low on your waist. At the way you were smiling up at him like you’d forgotten anyone else in the room existed. At the fact that Dean Di Laurentis, his teammate, his best friend, his absolute menace of a housemate, was looking at his little sister like she hung the fucking moon.

Hannah touched Garrett’s arm carefully, already trying to stop the spiral she could see forming in his head. 

“Garrett,” she warned quietly. Wanting you two to have your moment. “Don’t.”

His jaw tightened. “They couldn’t have mentioned this before I had to find out by watching Dean makeout with my sister in public?”

Hannah snorted. “To be fair, I don’t think they knew until just now.”

Garrett looked one second away from crossing the parking lot to kill you both. “That’s still Dean,” he muttered darkly. “Dean. My Dean.”

“Pretty sure Dean belongs to himself, babe.”

Garrett ignored her completely, eyes narrowing when Dean laughed at something you said and instinctively tucked you closer against his side. “Oh, absolutely not.”

Hannah grabbed his wrist before he could start marching across the parking lot like an angry dad in a sitcom. “You cannot tackle your best friend, leave them be.”

“He’s touching my sister.”

“They’re adults.”

“He’s Dean.” Garrett shot back like that explained everything. 

Hannah failed to hide her laugh and tugged him into the bar before he could make a scene. Garrett followed reluctantly, mumbling something about letting you guys have a week before he brought it up. Meanwhile, completely oblivious, you let Dean pull you into his car with a grin still stuck on your face.

[pennylanefics]

Overheard | D.D.L.

A/N: another fic i've had written for months! so excited to finally be sharing these and to have a growing audience for them! thanks to everyone who has been liking and sharing my dean fics, it means so much and it's great to have a little motivation to get back into writing. more off-campus content to come! <3

summary: you overhear a conversation from dean's friend's that you weren't exactly meant to hear

word count: ~2.8k

warnings: MDNI 18+ talks of sex, descriptions of sexual acts (not full on smut but describing past experiences), insecure reader, asshole friends, comparing new relationship to past ex

Dean was out late since he had a game with the Hurricanes, but he told you that you could stay in his room at the guys’ place until he got back. You had dinner by yourself, deciding on McDonald’s since the rest of the guys were out of the house, though once you settle in bed, two hours before Dean is expected to be home, you hear the door open.

Loud voices fill the downstairs space, and you partly want to venture down there to see what the guys are up to, but also don’t want to intrude on their boys night. However, eventually, when your glass of water runs dry, you decide to head down for some more, but before you can even get to the second stair and descend, you hear your name.

“Is (Y/N) here?” You can tell it’s Logan by the teasing tone in the question, he is always messing with you and Dean about how much you’re over here.

“I dunno,” Tucker responds, his speech slurred due to the amount of drinks he’s had. You knew they were going to Malone’s to celebrate a friend’s birthday, but you didn’t expect them back this early.

“She’s always here,” Logan replies matter-of-factly. “It’s like she’s…monitoring him.” That phrase throws you off, your body freezing in fear. What could he possibly mean?

“Yeah, I can see it,” Garrett cuts into the conversation. “Like she doesn’t trust him or something. She must think him being alone tempts him too much so she’s always with him.”

“But she also doesn’t give him anything in return,” Tucker adds. “He told me they haven’t fucked in like, two weeks. I don’t know how the guy does it.”

You are very aware of the fact that your libidios don’t exactly match, and it’s not something you’ve brought up just yet. He’s assured you that it’s no hurry, he’s got a hand and a toy for a reason, but it still makes you feel guilty. And this whole conversation makes you wonder what he tells them.

“Dude yeah,” Logan agrees. “He told me the same. I’m like…are we talking about the same Dean that was fucking every night? I mean him and Allie would go at it like rabbits whenever they’d see each other.”

Upon hearing that name, your entire body tenses up. They brought up his ex-girlfriend in comparison to you. Your worst fear in a relationship.

“i miss Allie, she was so good for him,” Garrett says, a reminiscent tone to his voice. Your chin rests on your knees, tears welling up in your eyes, the phrase repeating over and over in your head. 

“She so was. Their personalities fit so well together.”

“Uh huh, they could match each other’s energies. Now, it’s like (Y/N) is an energy vampire, sucking the life out of him.”

“I mean she’s not doing much sucking.” A chorus of laughter stings your ears as they continue to poke fun and question your ability to make their friend happy.

Unfortunately for you, your mind starts to wander. Does Dean think that way as well? Does he miss his ex because she was able to match his sexual desires? Were they more compatible than you and him? Insecurities rise in your body, and suddenly, you forget about the fact that you needed water.

Instead, you quietly trudge back to your boyfriend’s room and gather everything you’ve kept in here over the past few months into your duffle bag, prepared to leave the second he gets back from the game.

Although when he returns, finding his roommates passed out drunk on the couches, he also finds you asleep on his bed, above the covers, slightly shivering due to the chill in the air. He notices that you’re no longer wearing his hoodie, which is neatly folded on the chair at his desk.

His eyebrows furrow in confusion and his green eyes follow the duffle bag sitting open, containing some articles of clothing he has seen placed neatly in the drawer of his dresser that he designated as yours.

“Baby?” He shakes you awake a little, but you don’t budge one bit. He decides to then take a quick moment to check all the places he knew you kept your stuff; your drawer is empty, your toiletries including your toothbrush and toothpaste are gone, and your t-shirts that were hanging up in a small section of his closet were missing.

A heavy sigh escapes his lips as he takes a seat on the bed, though something catches his eye. A neatly folded piece of paper on his desk. Standing back up, he takes a couple steps and picks it up, carefully unfolding it with his calloused fingers.

His green eyes scan over the words that were written in your handwriting, and he can’t help the scoff that escapes him.

“Oh, hi Dean,” you finally awake, having been rattled from the force that he rose off the bed from. Slowly, he turns towards you, holding the note between his fingers.

“You wanna explain this?” He questions, a hurtful and almost betrayed bite to his voice. Swallowing thickly, you remember what you had written in your emotional flurry, and instantly regret it instead of talking to him. “You’re not seriously wanting to break up, are you?”

Silence hangs between the two of you and it’s horrifically awkward. You aren’t sure what to say or do, the damage already having been done.

“I…I don’t want to, but I was…”

“You were what? All of a sudden unhappy in this relationship and decided to make that decision without me?” Your heart aches in your chest, realizing the severity of what you had done. “What the fuck is going on, (Y/N)?”

Dean takes a seat with you again, the note fluttering beside him, quickly forgotten once his eyes set on you. He doesn’t want to hear it from a handwritten note, he wants to hear it from your mouth.

“I was just thinking that maybe we aren’t right for each other,” you shrug. “I mean, you have girls still fawning over you, waiting to have their moment with you, I hate to think I’m holding you back because I have issues.”

“You think you’re holding me back?” He appears hurt by your assumption, and because of that, you’re unable to properly form a response. “Holding me back from what exactly?”

“Sex. I hate to think that you fuck me every couple weeks when I’m in the mood and get stuck with your hand the rest of the time because I have little to no libido. You don’t deserve that, you deserve someone like Al-”

Dean’s eyes immediately widen upon your slip-up, even though you stopped before you could say the whole name. He knows exactly what you mean. A scoff escapes his lips, completely flabbergasted that you would even say such a thing.

“You’re really comparing yourself to my ex? I thought I told you many times, we’re nothing anymore.”

“You did, and I trust you, b-”

“So then why are you so worried about what you’re like and comparing to what she’s like, hm?” When you don’t respond, he pushes for an answer. “What’s got you worried, (Y/N)?”

“Your friends,” you choke out, averting your eyes away from him. You hate to be the person to throw his friends under the bus to him, but he wants the truth, so he’s going to get it.

“What makes you say that?”

“I overheard them talking about me. Saying that the only sucking I’m doing is sucking your energy, also saying how they liked her better than me, how you were better with her, how I’m over here all the time because I have to monitor you so you don’t get tempted to sleep with someone else because we don’t have sex that much.”

Confusion and anger flash in his eyes, and he has to stop himself from racing downstairs and pounding his friends’ faces in.

“They said all that?” You nod to his question, too afraid of your voice breaking to speak. Dean is so outraged, wondering what led his friends to say such awful things about you, that he doesn’t even notice the tears silently streaming down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to leave before you got back, but they were still up and I-I didn’t want to face them, but then I-”

“Hey, hey, shhh,” he coos, immediately bringing you into his arms, holding you close to his strong chest. You choke back a sob as your tears soak his grey long sleeve shirt, though you barely register what’s even happening. “I’ll have a talk with them in the morning. I’m not gonna stand by and let them say shit like that about you. Did they know you could hear them?”

“No, I was getting ready to head downstairs, but then I heard my name, so I stopped.”

“Fucking hell,” he grumbles, holding you even tighter in his grip. “I’m so sorry, baby. But please, don’t let their words get between us, okay? I need you to talk to me instead of running away.”

His request holds nothing but admiration and reassurance, no judgement whatsoever. He knows things haven’t been easy for you, and that communication has been a weak aspect on your side of things. 

“Does it really bother you that we don’t…have sex very often?”

“Of course it doesn’t. I’ve told you that so many times.”

“But they said you and Allie-“

“Fuck what they said! They know nothing! Yeah, I used to have a very active sex life, but your safety and wellness is more important to me than anything. I may not understand what it’s like to just…not want to have sex but I respect it. Like I’ve told you, I have a hand and I have a toy. I would never, ever, cheat on you because of something like that.”

His words are spoken with a strong and confident tone, leaving no space for you to even interpret his words wrong. He’s told you the same thing previous times, there’s nothing that would change his mind or lead him to doing something that he would regret.

Even when he gets drunk now, the last thing he thinks about is sex. It’s you. How he wants to be cradled in your arms, his friends have stated how he never shuts up about you when he’s hammered. So much so, that they keep a framed photo of you to appease him; which makes their confessions earlier tonight even more confusing to you.

Overall, these factors have confirmed to you that Dean isn’t that type of guy anymore, and he’s adapted to your own personal way of things.

The Life of Dean has changed because of you.

“I know your mind is still going crazy, baby, but I promise you. Our relationship is different, but it’s a good different. I like that when you are finally in the mood, it’s like…mind-blowing.” You chuckle softly at his words and hide your face in your hands.

“Hey, no hiding on me,” he adds. “I mean it. When I first tasted your pussy, I-“

“Okay, Dean!” You giggle, your face now bright red and blushing, the smile on Dean’s face as wide as ever.

“Trust me, every time it happens, I just…black out afterwards. Most intense orgasms ever,” he adds on. “Plus, that one day that you let me go down on you when you weren’t up for it. I’ll never forget that.”

Your face now feels like it’s on fire from the way he’s talking. He’s right, one day, he begged and begged to go down on you, and despite you telling him that you weren’t in the mood for sex or to come, he insisted that he wanted to do so for his own pleasure.

Eventually, after setting some ground rules and such, you let him eat you out while you played around on your phone, the sounds of his moans turning you on, but your mind too clouded to reach an orgasm.

But he didn’t care, he was paying no attention to you. He was in his own little world, mouth covered in your arousal, eyes shut, occasionally fluttering open to meet your smiling face. Not once did he stop to take a breath, drowning in the smell and taste of you, both things that you had been highly insecure about leading up to that point.

He was down there for about thirty minutes before he finally exploded in his shorts, grinding against the bed and making a mess of himself. You hadn’t even realized he had done so until he lays there between your legs, spent, and awkwardly adjusts himself.

That’s when he sits up, revealing the large amount of cum seeping through the grey shorts of his, since he had forgone boxers. That sight alone was enough for you to pull him back down to your pussy and make you orgasm three times in a row.

“I need you to understand that sex isn’t just about fucking. It’s about sharing a moment with one another in each other’s pleasure. And to me, that means all the times that you give me a handjob or blowjob even when you want nothing in return, it’s me fingering you because that’s all you have the energy for, it’s dry humping one another when we’re too lazy to get undressed, the thigh riding, all of it. I don’t need penatrative sex every single night, despite what my friends say. I did it because it was fun, sure, but I’m in a committed relationship now. Priorities change, and that means adapting and making compromises.”

His little speech has brought tears to your eyes, and yet another blush to your cheek. All of a sudden, his friends words and your insecurities that had risen from them disappear, and Dean is the only one that matters.

“I’m sorry I doubted you on that,” you murmur, feeling upset with yourself for writing such an impulsive letter and not talking to him about all of this. He grins softly and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“It’s alright, baby girl. I can’t imagine how tough it was hearing that. And trust me, I’m still going to give them shit for it in the morning. Maybe a good punch or two as well.” You share a short laugh, knowing full well that he’s not going to hurt his friends.

However there’s an inkling in your mind that says that he’s not kidding at all.

“Just know that they’re wrong. They can think they know what’s best for me, but I’m the only one who can judge that. You and her are very different, and that’s what I like. I don’t want the same that I had with her, there’s a reason we split up. With you, things have been so beautiful and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I’ve learned so much from you and it’s made me see things in a different light. You’ve opened up a more domestic side to me and I love it.”

“Domesticated Dean, huh? That wasn’t a thing before?”

He smiles widely and pulls you into his arms, adjusting your bodies so you now lay under the covers, seeing as it was nearing ten o’clock and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with you after a long day.

“It wasn’t, but I like who I am when I’m with you.” For some reason that single comment makes your heart soar in your chest. The fact that he’s admitting that you make him a better person, a better version of himself, is one of the highest compliments to ever receive, and it definitely doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I love you,” you whisper into his neck, placing a couple kisses there to seal the words.

“I love you too, sweetheart. I wouldn’t trade you for the world, you’re mine and I’m yours. No one can break that apart.” He kisses you sweetly, cradling your face with his rather large hand. After he breaks away, he sits up to reach across the covers, grabbing the note that you had written in the heat of the moment.

“And this?” he says as he rips the note to shreds, tossing the pieces into the trash can near his bed, “is not happening. I’m not letting my friends rip you away from me over this, got it?”

“Yeah,” you grin up at him, glad that he isn’t too hurt or upset over the fact that you had even written such a thing.

“It’s behind us, alright? Next time, I want you to come straight to me if something happens, especially if something happens with them.”

“Will do, Mr. Di Laurentis.” A blush takes over his features and he kisses you passionately once more. The two of you get comfortable in his bed, a heavy sigh escaping him as his muscles finally start to relax.

“Get some rest, okay? I’m not going anywhere. Unless I wake up before you, then I’ll be downstairs kicking my roommates asses.”

[whorelaud]

THE BET – dean di laurentis ¡

summary your friends dare you to sext a random account on instagram, who so happens to be dean di laurentis, your worst enemy. despite hating the idea of it, you couldn't deny him, not when he's offering more than you're willing to take.

content SMAU, mature content, sexting, praise, use of pet names, cringe, enemies (but it's one sided), desperate dean, reader has an attitude, and likes being called a brat, lots of teasing, dirty talk with a side of humor 

a/n this is kinda rusty but i had sm fun writing it so i hope you guys enjoy reading it!! 

vibe rators 😈

al 🦭: alright we've come to a decision 

you: ... hello to you too

hans 🐢: hi my sweet angel

al 🦭: there's no time for greetings 

al 🦭: this is urgent business 

you: i'm scared

you: i don't like where this is going

you: what did you do al

al 🦭: actually me AND hans came to this decision 

hans 🐢: i'm only a tad bit involved 

hans 🐢: it was her plan

al 🦭: you suggested it?? 

hans 🐢: I DIDNT???? 

hans 🐢: i said it would be fun 

you: i should leave 

al 🦭: get back here. 

al 🦭: alright so 

al 🦭: do you remember the bet you lost at tucker's party?

you: i don't actually 

hans 🐢: look at her trying to escape... 

you: don't gang up on me 🙁

you: i thought you guys forgot about that

al 🦭: how could we

al 🦭: we finally get the chance to torture our precious pie

you: don't call me that 

hans 🐢: LMAOO 

al 🦭: as i was saying

al 🦭: me and hannah finally decided what we want you to do 

hans 🐢: why am i more nervous than her

hans 🐢: SPIT IT OUT ALREADY

al 🦭: alright man i was building up the suspense 

you: how about girls night and i treat you guys to the most delicious toe curling meals of your lives instead of whatever you have planned ☺️☺️

al 🦭: as tempting as that sounds... what we have is More fun

you: Fuck me. 

hans 🐢: i'd love to

you: i'm telling your bf

hans 🐢: hey :c

you: al baby can you please just tell me i'm dying to know

al 🦭: Fine...

al 🦭: okay so how does trolling some random guy online and making him think you're really into him and that he can get into your pants sound 

hans 🐢: okay now that you phrase it like this it definitely sounds cringe

you: Okay

you: no

you: i'm not doing that

al 🦭: WHY NOT

hans 🐢: it'll be fun hey...

you: are you guys crazy

you: why would i dm a random MAN that i'm into him. 

al 🦭: because men suck and they deserve to be humiliated 

hans 🐢: oh wow ❤️ 

hans 🐢: love that! 

you: no but seriously why would i do that

you: out of all the things i could've done why THAT

hans 🐢: because you're very anti love so weve decided to spice up your love life

you: sexting a random man online is going to spice up my love life huh

al 🦭: exactly 

you: do i ever have a choice here... 

hans 🐢: if you don't feel comfortable you don't have to do it bae

you: it's just really embarrassing 

you: but it's fine ig

al 🦭: FUCK YEAH

al 🦭: alright wait i'll grab his profile for you 

you: scary

hans 🐢: drumroll drumroll

al 🦭:

you: DI LAURENTIS???? 

hans 🐢: yeah...

you: oh FUCK no

you: we said a random man not fucking dean di laurentis

hans 🐢: AL I TOLD YOU IT WOULD BE A BAD IDEA

hans 🐢: y/n hates him

you: he's the bane of my existence. 

you: i'm not doing that

you: nope not even gonna entertain the idea of it 

al 🦭: oh come on

al 🦭: THATS WHAT MAKES IT MORE FUN

al 🦭: laugh in his face

hans 🐢: dean is actually very sweet why do you hate him so much 

you: he's a manwhore

you: he's fucked every girl on campus

you: + he's a DICK

you: i don't like him

you: on top of the embarrassment i have to shove compliments in his face???!!??

you: as if his ego needs it

hans 🐢: im giggling

hans 🐢: c'mon it's not that bad

hans 🐢: besides you'll be doing it from an anonymous account so he wont know it's you

al 🦭: PLS PLS PLS YN PLS 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

you: get that ugly emoji off my screen god

you: i'm never ever ever ever ever everrrrrrrr doing anything like this ever again

you: only once

hans 🐢: ONLY ONCE

al 🦭: YES PLS

you: you guys are a little too excited about this

you: i need to avenge myself 

al 🦭: do that later

al 🦭: now go on and text him 

hans 🐢: keep us updated :3

you: i hate you both 

al 🦭: aw ☺️

al 🦭: luv you too 

────────

────────

vibe rators 😈

you: i'm so fucking screwed

────────

a/n AND THATS IT. this took me so long to fucking do and for WHAT also something is messed up in those ig pics but its too late to figure it out rn... all support is appreciated wahhh i hope this doesn't flops or i'll cry and repost tmr 😇😇

[rosreblogs]

I feel like the world doesn't suck when one of my favorite writers write for my current obsession. it's like life is this meme again:

[issalovescandyclouds]

“Sleep, Cho.”

Soft pants left your lips as your palms rested against your boyfriend’s heaving chest, imprints of your nails on the firm flesh of his shoulders. You’d just rode your poor, sweet boyfriend into oblivion after all. 

“Are you okay, Cho?” You murmured, trailing your hand up to his damp cheek and rubbing his salty tears and sweat away. 

He nodded, leaning into your hand. “M-Mhm…” Choso hummed, still going through the aftershocks of his nth orgasm. A soft smile grazed his lips as he settled even deeper into your touch.

You smiled too, slowly lifting yourself off his member. A soft slap against his skin broke the silence as you sat on your side of the bed. “Sit up.” You whispered, rubbing his chest. He quickly (as possible) obliged and rested his back against the headboard with a soft wince at the cool material.

“Here, drink it.” Your hands placed a glass of water that was on your nightstand into his own.

Choso drank it in maybe two gulps, then sighed with ease as he leaned onto your shoulder.

“Hmm… we should do that every night.” He suggested with an even wider smile, kissing your cheek and making a small noise of protest when you moved to get up from bed. “Where are you going?” 

“To run a bath.” You replied before pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

You came back a few minutes later to find him laying down, his arms wrapped tightly around your pillow, staring in the direction of the bathroom connected to your shared bedroom. He immediately perked up at the sight of you.

With a smile, you walked over to the bed while he sat up again. “Come on, babe. Let’s get in the bath.” You said to him, pressing your lips to his hand and pulling him up to his feet. He followed you to the bathroom and sat in the tub, sighing as he basked in the warm water. You got in with him, settling onto his lap. 

“Mmh…” he hummed, nuzzling your neck. You reached to your side, grabbing a bottle of body wash and splatting some onto his loofah. The scented soap lathered against his skin as you rubbed the object along his back. “That feels nice.” He mumbled tiredly. 

“Yeah?” You asked, trying to keep him awake so he wouldn’t pass out in the water.

“Mhm.” He confirmed, leaning against you even more as you scrubbed his arms.

“Don’t fall asleep, Cho.” Another soft noise of protest came from your boyfriend. “Cho.” You warned. He kissed your neck in response, his lips curved up in a drowsy smile against your skin. 

The two of you got out of the bath after you washed yourself off as well. Choso could barely get dressed before collapsing onto the bed. You smiled and laid down beside him. 

“Tired?” You asked, tucking his hair behind his ear.

He nodded, his eyes shut as he wrapped himself around you.

“Sleep, Cho.” You whispered, kissing the crown of his head as he buried his face into your neck again. 

“I love you…” he mumbled softly.

Your lips formed a soft grin into his soft hair. “I love you more.”

A grunt of disagreement came from him at that. He smacked your hip, too spent and sore to argue about who loves who more right now. “No.” He whined. “Just sleep, please.” His words were muffled against your neck.

He heard you laugh. “Fine, fine.” You agreed. “But I still love you more.” You whispered, tightening your arms around him.

Tags: @hypnoticcexe

A/N: Please don’t translate my art without permission. Do not use for AI training.

[vivierz]

awww

[oreobites]

!Ryomen Sukuna; who falls in love with the concubine he hated the most

Every woman brought to his estate understood the rules of survival before they even crossed the threshold.

You bowed until your forehead touched the tatami. You spoke only when spoken to. You anticipated his moods, read the terrifying language of his four eyes, and offered flattery or tears depending on what type of amusement he was seeking that day.

To center your entire existence around Ryomen Sukuna was the only way to ensure your head remained attached to your shoulders.

Except you didn't.

You hadn't knelt when he first entered your quarters three months ago. You had been lying on your side, propped up on an elbow, reading a translated scroll from the northern provinces, and you had merely shifted your gaze to look at him, entirely unimpressed by the sudden, heavy drop in atmospheric pressure that usually accompanied his presence.

"Stand when I enter," he had commanded, his upper eyes narrowing into dangerous, ruby slits.

You had turned a page. "Then leave and enter again. Perhaps I will feel like it next time."

The attendants behind him had turned white as ghosts, bracing for the inevitable spray of blood. Sukuna’s jaw had set, a terrifying, low growl vibrating from his chest. But you hadn't trembled.

You hadn't scrambled to fix your posture. You had just looked at him with an expression of profound boredom.

If he wanted to kill you, he would kill you. Fawning over him wasn't going to change his nature, so you simply refused to waste the energy.

He hadn't killed you. Instead, he had left, the doors slamming shut with enough force to rattle the shoji screens.

And that was the exact moment the nightmare began. Because from that night onward, Sukuna became an insufferable, permanent fixture in your life.

"You are eating that wrong."

You stopped your chopsticks halfway to your mouth, letting out a long, slow exhale through your nose. It was midnight.

You had been looking forward to a quiet, solitary meal of cold rice and pickled plums, but Sukuna had simply materialized in the corner of your room ten minutes ago, dripping wet from a thunderstorm, and had proceeded to sit directly on the edge of your bedding.

"I am eating it the way I have eaten it for more than twenty years," you said, not looking at him. "If my technique offends you, the door is exactly where you left it."

Sukuna scoffed, leaning back on his palms. His massive, tattooed frame took up half the space in your small room, his lower arms crossed over his chest while his upper right hand casually reached over and swiped a plum straight from your bowl.

"You have a wretched attitude," he remarked, popping the fruit into his mouth and chewing lazily. "The women in the east hall weep with gratitude if I so much as glance toward their courtyard. You look at me like I am a stray dog that ruined your garden."

"Stray dogs are quieter," you muttered, finally looking up to glare at him. "And they don't steal my food."

Sukuna’s lower mouth twitched into a sharp, jagged grin. He loved it. The realization turned your stomach, a strange, dizzying mixture of irritation and heat.

He didn't come to your room because he wanted a concubine; he came because he was a creature driven entirely by conflict, and you were the only person in the entire empire who refused to give him the satisfaction of a fight. You gave him nothing. You gave him a wall of pure, unbothered apathy, and it was driving him entirely insane.

He leaned forward suddenly, crowding your space. The smell of the storm, ozone and rain, rushed over you. Before you could pull back, his large, calloused hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around your jaw.

It wasn't the brutal, bone-crushing grip he used on his enemies. It was controlled, a heavy, unyielding restraint that forced your face up toward his.

"You should fear me," he murmured, his upper eyes tracking the movement of your throat as you swallowed. His thumb thumbed the soft skin right beneath your lower lip, a deliberate, electric friction that made your toes curl inside your robes. "A single flick of my finger, and this pretty little throat splits wide open."

You met his gaze evenly, refusing to let the wild, frantic thudding of your heart show on your face. "Then do it. I'm tired of your bragging."

Sukuna froze. For a second, the silence in the room was deadly. Then, a loud, booming laugh tore from his throat, the sound rough and genuine as he released your jaw, shifting his weight until he was practically draped over your lap, his heavy head resting casually against your thigh.

"Insufferable," he muttered, closing all four of his eyes as if he owned the space. "Utterly insufferable."

You stared down at the King of Curses currently using your legs as a pillow, your hand hovering over his unruly pink hair, entirely tempted to shove him off. But you didn't. You just sighed, picking up your chopsticks again, ignoring the way his subconscious weight felt entirely too natural against you.

The shift happened. In Sukuna’s dictionary, words like love or devotion were meaningless concepts invented by the weak to justify their dependency. He would never admit to favoring you. If anyone asked, he would simply say you were a minor amusement, a dull distraction from his boredom.

But the rest of the estate wasn't blind.

The servants noticed that the rare silks brought from the western raids, the ones Sukuna usually threw into the treasury to rot—somehow kept finding their way into your wardrobe because he had casually grumbled that your current robes looked "like rags."

The guards noticed that if Sukuna left your courtyard irritated, he was significantly less likely to execute someone in the main hall.

And then there was the incident with the lord of the northern clans.

During a formal banquet, the lord had made a passing, disparaging remark about your status, calling you an "eccentric, useless mouth to feed" who didn't know her place.

You hadn't even heard the comment; you had been across the pavilion, systematically ignoring Sukuna’s attempts to make you try a cup of sake.

But Sukuna had heard it.

He hadn't made a scene. He had simply stood up, walked over to the lord’s table, and dismantled the man’s entire lineage within three seconds, leaving the pavilion drenched in red before sitting back down next to you, casually picking up his chopsticks as if nothing had happened.

"You're exhausting when you're angry," you had murmured, wiping a stray drop of blood from the sleeve of your robe with a click of your tongue.

Sukuna hadn't answered. He had just grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand toward him until you were forced to use your sleeve to wipe a smudge of gore from his cheek instead. He hadn't asked. He had just assumed your hands belonged on his skin.

Late one evening, weeks later, the heat of the summer had turned the air thick and oppressive. You were lying awake in your bed, staring at the ceiling, when the shoji screen slid open without a sound.

Sukuna stepped inside. He looked exhausted, the heavy marks of a curse battle still lingering in the tension of his shoulders. He didn't speak. He just shed his heavy outer robe, letting it hit the floor, before crawling directly onto your sleeping mat.

"Go away," you groaned, trying to roll over to the far edge. "It is too hot for this."

"Silence," he grunted, a large, heavy arm snaking around your waist from behind. He hauled you back against his chest with a single, effortless tug, his massive body completely enveloping yours.

His chest was blazing hot, a furnace of pure cursed energy, and his face buried itself directly into the crook of your neck.

"You cling too much," you muttered, though you didn't actually fight the hold. It was a useless endeavor anyway.

"What nonsense," Sukuna rumbled, his voice thick with sleep, his lower arms tightening around your hips, anchoring you so securely to him that you could feel the rhythmic, heavy thud of his heart against your spine. "You are small. You fit here. Stop complaining."

You lay there in the dark, his breath warm against your skin, his long, sharp fingernails absentmindedly tracing patterns into the fabric of your garment near your ribs.

He was completely unaware of how intimate the gesture was, how entirely possessive his body became the moment he was near you. He thought he was just resting. He thought he was just taking what was his.

You turned your head slightly, looking back at him. His eyes were closed, his expression unusually peaceful in the dim moonlight.

"You're an idiot, Ryomen Sukuna," you whispered softly.

A faint, arrogant smirk touched his lips, though he didn't open his eyes. His hand moved up, his fingers lacing through yours with a casual, unthinking pressure, locking your hands together against the bedding.

"And you are still breathing," he murmured into your skin, his grip tightening just a fraction more. "Be grateful I find your stupidity so entertaining."

You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into his terrifying, inescapable warmth, finally accepting that while the King of Curses would never say the words, his actions had already rewritten the entire world around you.

............................................................................

thankyou for reading. follow me on tiktok @/oreobitees

[eu-nicola]

More than one night - Dean Di Laurentis

summary: A night with Dean was a mistake and you knew it the next day when you found out that he was messing with your sister but things didn't end there

tw and word counter: (4,4k) smut, sex without protection (use protection bro), oral sex, idk what more

Meeting Dean Di Laurentis was, without a doubt, the worst thing that could have happened to you in your life.

That was what you kept repeating to yourself as you sat on the edge of your bed, with the lights off and only the glow of the streetlamp coming through the window. You had your knees hugged to your chest, as if that could protect you from the guilt eating you up inside.

Only three days had passed since that night when you let Dean kiss you against the wall in the dark hallway of the fraternity. Three days since his big hands slipped under your dress, since he whispered in your ear how fucking sexy you were while he pulled down your panties. Exactly three cursed days since you moaned his name like an idiot while he fucked you against that same wall, hard, fast, and merciless.

And the worst part… you didn’t even know who he was at the time. You only knew he was hot, that he had a beautiful smile, and that he smelled like beer and expensive cologne. He had looked at you like he wanted to devour you alive, and you, after one too many drinks and an entire semester of emotional drought, let yourself go.

You didn’t ask for his full name until the next day.

Dean Di Laurentis.

And that’s when everything went to shit because Allie, your older sister, had mentioned that name several times in the past few weeks. “Dean is such an idiot, but so much fun,” “Dean’s driving me crazy,” “Last night Dean did…” She didn’t give you many details, but enough for you to know they were hooking up. It wasn’t anything serious, according to her. Just “casual and fun sex.” But she was your sister and you had slept with him. The regret burned in your stomach.

You got up from the bed and walked barefoot to the mirror in your room. You had dark circles under your eyes, you had slept terribly. Every time you closed your eyes you saw Dean’s face above you, that arrogant smile while he thrust deep inside you. You hated yourself for remembering it in such detail, but you hated yourself even more for feeling heat between your legs at the thought.

“You’re a piece of shit,” you whispered to yourself, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

After crying for half an hour that night, you decided enough was enough. You weren’t going to stay locked in your room any longer, replaying the memory of that man on loop. Tonight you were going out, you were going to have fun, shed all that guilt, and forget about him even if it was just for a few hours.

Mika, your best friend and roommate, had come back from shopping and was sitting on the floor of the room surrounded by clothes and makeup, as if they were preparing for war.

“Oh girl, I’m finding him tonight for sure,” Mika said as she tried on a tight black top in front of the mirror. “His name is Ryan, he plays on the hockey team. I saw him Wednesday at the library and he looked at me like he wanted to eat me. He’s not getting away tonight.”

You laughed softly while applying mascara, trying to sound as normal as possible.

“Then go get him. You look hot as hell in that top, seriously. If he doesn’t hit on you tonight, he’s gay.”

Mika burst out laughing and looked at you through the mirror.

“And you… what? Isn’t there anyone you’re interested in? Because you’ve been acting weird lately. Are you sure there’s no guy running through that head of yours?”

You stayed silent for a second, the mascara brush suspended in the air.

“No,” you answered, trying to make your voice sound firm. “Not right now. I want to focus on my studies this first year, you know? I don’t want distractions.”

Lie. It was a half-lie. Yes, you wanted to focus on your studies, that part was true, but then Dean appeared and since that night, focusing was the last thing you were doing. Your mind was full of him, of his mouth, of his hands, and how he had whispered “good girl” while you came.

Mika raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

“Hmm… well, if you say so. But if you change your mind, there are several of Ryan’s friends who are really hot too.”

“I’m good like this,” you said, forcing a smile as you put on your earrings. “Tonight I just want to dance, have a drink, and disconnect.”

What you didn’t tell Mika was that deep down, you were scared. Scared of seeing Dean at the party again, but you didn’t want that to matter, so you pushed him out of your mind and finished getting dressed: a short black dress, tight at the waist and ass. You looked good. Sexy. All those training hours had paid off.

After giving yourself one last look in the mirror, you grabbed your small purse and left the dorm with Mika. She was euphoric, practically jumping as you went down the building stairs.

“Tonight is going to be epic!” she exclaimed, grabbing your arm. “I feel like something good is going to happen. Ryan’s going to be there and I plan to eye-fuck him until he comes talk to me.”

Her energy was contagious, or at least you tried to let it be. You laughed and played along as you walked across campus toward the fraternity, where the music could already be heard from several blocks away.

When you arrived, the place was packed. 

Colored lights, people crowding the entrance, the smell of spilled beer and cheap perfume mixing in the air. Mika squeezed your arm excitedly.

“See you later! If you see Ryan, let me know,” she said, and before you could respond she had already disappeared into the crowd, moving with that confidence you always admired.

And suddenly you were alone.

You made your way to the makeshift kitchen where they were serving drinks. You grabbed a plastic cup with vodka and cranberry juice and took a long sip. The alcohol burned your throat a little, but you welcomed it. You wanted to feel something stronger than that constant guilt.

For the next half hour you tried to distract yourself. You talked with a couple of girls from your literature class, laughed with a sophomore who told you a bad joke about the hockey team, and even danced for a while on the edge of the makeshift dance floor in the main room. You drank another cup, and then another.

Maybe you were drinking too much, you knew it, but every time Dean’s memory appeared in your head, you took another sip to drown it.

Until you saw him.

He was on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall. He wore a tight black t-shirt that highlighted his shoulders and tattooed arms. His blond hair was a little messy, as if someone had run their hands through it recently. And he was smiling.

Your heart raced so hard you felt dizzy. The cup trembled slightly in your hand, but then it got worse. Allie appeared beside him. Your older sister, with her perfectly wavy hair and radiant smile, approached him and said something in his ear.

Dean tilted his head toward her, laughing, and casually wrapped an arm around her waist.

That made your stomach churn. He wasn’t your boyfriend, he wasn’t even anything, you’d only had one night. One stupid, drunk night with no promises, but seeing them together, seeing him touch her with the same confidence he had touched you… it hurt.

You grabbed another cup from the table without thinking twice and slipped through the crowd, moving quickly toward the hallway that led to the back of the house. Your heart was pounding in your ears. You just wanted to disappear, for no one to see you, for him not to see you, but Dean saw you.

For a second, your eyes met across the crowd. His expression changed, his arrogant smile disappeared, and something darker, more intense crossed his face. He took a step forward, as if he were going to follow you, but you were faster. You slipped into a large group of people, lowered your head, and kept walking until you managed to lose yourself in another part of the house. You leaned your back against a wall in a quieter corner, breathing hard.

A few minutes passed, or maybe twenty, you no longer knew, when you finally worked up the courage to return to the main area. The alcohol was already weighing on your legs and head, and then you saw them again. Dean and Allie were in the middle of the makeshift dance floor. The song was slow and sensual. He had his hands on her waist, moving with that natural grace he had. Allie laughed, wrapped her arms around his neck, and said something close to his mouth. Dean smiled, but his eyes… his eyes scanned the room for a second, as if looking for something, or someone.

You felt jealousy. Absurd, hot, ugly jealousy that squeezed your chest. You knew you had no right. You knew Allie had met him first, but that didn’t stop your mind from betraying you, remembering how those same hands had held your hips, how that same mouth had kissed your neck while he thrust inside you.

“It’s just the alcohol,” you repeated quietly, closing your eyes for a second. “Just the alcohol messing with your head.”

You left the half-full cup on a nearby table. You were already feeling bad. Your stomach was upset, your head was heavy, and there was a knot in your throat that wouldn’t go away.

You needed air. You needed to get out of there.

You went up the fraternity stairs almost running, dodging couples kissing against the walls and people going up with cups in their hands. At the end of the second-floor hallway, you tried the first door you found. It was open. 

You entered quickly and closed it behind you.

It was just some random room. Probably one of the fraternity guys’. There was an unmade bed, clothes thrown on the floor, a poster on the wall, and the typical smell of a guy who lives alone. You didn’t care, you just wanted to breathe.

You sat on the edge of the bed, hands on your knees, trying to calm your breathing. You closed your eyes.

“Just a minute…” you murmured. “One minute and I’ll go down, find Mika, and we’ll go home.”

You were starting to feel the alcohol weighing on you more than you thought. Your head was spinning gently.

Suddenly, the door opened.

You lifted your head sharply and there he was.

Dean, filling the doorway with that impossible-to-ignore presence. He closed the door behind him calmly, without asking permission, and you stood up from the bed so fast you almost fell.

“What are you doing here?” you blurted out, your voice higher than you would have liked.

Dean raised his eyebrows, amused.

“I wanted to see if you were okay. I saw you go upstairs almost running. You looked… I don’t know, like you were about to throw up or set the house on fire.”

He leaned against the door with his arms crossed, looking at you with that crooked smile that drove you crazy.

You nervously pulled your dress down, as if that could make you look more dignified.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly. “I should probably leave. Mika’s probably looking for me. You know how she gets when she’s excited…”

You took a step toward the door, but Dean didn’t move an inch.

“Why are you running away from me?” he asked directly, his voice low and too soft for how arrogant he usually was.

“I’m not running away,” you answered almost by reflex.

“Yes, you are.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

You stopped in front of him, crossing your arms to mirror his posture, trying to look confident.

“See? I’m not running. I’m here. to you. Totally normal.”

Dean let out a low laugh, the kind that vibrated in his chest. He took a step forward. You took one back.

“Dean…” you warned.

“What?” he said innocently, but kept advancing slowly. “I just want to talk.”

“Then you should go talk to my sister,” you snapped, unable to hold back.

He paused for a second. Then his smile grew bigger, almost dangerous.

“Are you jealous?”

You laughed. A forced laugh, too high-pitched and clearly fake.

“Jealous?” you said, trying to sound amused. 

“Please, Dean. It’s impossible for me to be jealous. I’ve known you for… three days? I don’t even know if you have a middle name. You don’t matter to me. Not at all. Zero. Nothing.”

Dean kept coming closer. You kept backing up until your back hit the wall.

“Interesting…” he murmured, placing one hand on the wall beside your head. “You know exactly how many days it’s been since we met.”

You froze. You felt your face heat up.

“I… that… it’s just because…” you stammered, searching for some smart excuse that wouldn’t come. “It was a weird week and… and you… you have a very easy face to remember and… shit.”

Dean chuckled softly, clearly enjoying seeing you nervous. He was so close you could smell his cologne mixed with the faint scent of beer.

“You’re terrible at lying,” he whispered.

“I’m not lying,” you mumbled. “I really don’t care about you. You can go dance with Allie, do whatever you do, I… I’m perfectly fine. Super focused on my studies and…”

Dean didn’t let you finish. He kissed you. Hard and sure. With the same hunger you remembered from that first night. One big hand gripped your waist while the other rested on the wall. His mouth was warm, demanding, and tasted slightly of beer and mint.

For a second your treacherous body responded. Your hands rose to his chest, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

When he pulled back just a few centimeters, he had that arrogant smile again.

“Still don’t care?” he asked against your lips, his voice hoarse.

Dean was still so close you could feel his warm breath against your lips. Your heart was beating so hard you thought he could hear it too.

“This is wrong…” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Allie is my sister, Dean. I can’t do this to her.”

He pulled back just a few centimeters, looking into your eyes. His hand was still on your waist, his thumb slowly caressing the fabric of your dress.

“Nothing’s going on with Allie,” he said in a low, confident voice. “What she and I have is… casual. Nothing serious. She knows it and I know it.”

You knew he was lying. Or at least hiding part of the truth. You had seen how Allie talked about him, how she smiled when she mentioned his name. But in that moment, with Dean looking at you like that, with his body pressing you against the wall, you wanted to believe him with all your strength.

You wanted to believe him so badly it hurt.

“We shouldn’t…” you tried one last time, but your voice no longer held any conviction.

Dean didn’t respond with words. He lowered his head and kissed you again, deeper this time, slower. His tongue brushed yours and a treacherous moan escaped you. His hands moved down to the hem of your dress and began slowly sliding it up your thighs.

You didn’t stop him. You let him lift it. You let his rough fingers graze the sensitive skin of your legs, your hips, until he pulled the dress completely over your head and tossed it to the floor without caring where it landed.

You stood in front of him wearing only your black bra and matching panties. Dean stepped back a little to look at you, and the way his eyes darkened made you feel both exposed and powerful at the same time.

“Fuck…” he murmured, almost to himself. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

He kissed you again, this time with more urgency. His big hands roamed your back, unhooked your bra with ease, and let it fall. His palms covered your breasts, squeezing them just right, brushing your nipples with his thumbs until they hardened under his touch.

You moaned against his mouth.

The guilt was still there, throbbing in the back of your mind, but it wasn’t strong enough to stop him. Not now. Not when your body was burning for him.

Dean suddenly grabbed you by the thighs and lifted you as if you weighed nothing. 

Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist. He kept kissing you as he carried you to the unmade bed, gently dropped you onto the mattress, and positioned himself on top of you, supporting his weight on his forearms.

His mouth moved down your neck, kissing, sucking, gently biting. He went lower, until he reached your breasts. He took one into his mouth, sucking hard while his hand caressed the other. You arched your back, moaning his name without being able to help it.

“Dean…”

He looked up, that arrogant but dark smile appearing on his lips.

“Still think this is wrong?” he asked, sliding one hand down your stomach and slipping it inside your panties.

His fingers found your wetness and he let out a growl of approval.

“So wet…” he whispered against your skin. “And you say we shouldn’t.”

Two of his fingers caressed you slowly, tracing circles over your clit before sliding inside you. You gasped, digging your nails into his shoulders over his t-shirt.

The guilt was still there, burning inside you, but the pleasure was stronger. Every time you tried to think about Allie, Dean pushed his fingers deeper, curling them exactly where you felt it most, and your mind went blank.

He kissed you again, swallowing your moans while he fucked you with his fingers, slow but firm. His thumb kept stimulating your clit in perfect circles. You were soaked, the obscene sound of his fingers sliding in and out filled the room along with your ragged breathing.

“Dean… please…” you begged, not even knowing exactly what you were asking for.

He pulled his fingers out, quickly slid your panties down, and knelt between your legs. He looked up at you with that hungry expression.

“I want to taste you,” he said hoarsely.

And before you could respond, he lowered his head and ran his hot, flat tongue along your entire entrance.

Dean licked slowly and deeply, tracing every fold with deliberate precision. He ran his flat tongue from bottom to top, stopping at your clit to suck it gently, then harder, alternating between sucking and licking in quick circles. Two of his fingers returned inside you, curling upward, searching for that spot that made you see stars.

“God… Dean,” you moaned, arching your back on the bed.

It was too good. Too intense. Every lick, every movement of his fingers made you tremble. You gripped the sheets tightly, your hips moving on their own against his mouth, you didn’t want him to stop. Ever.

You wanted to stay there forever, with his head between your legs and that expert mouth devouring you.

But it wasn’t enough. You needed more. You needed to feel him inside you, filling you completely. Dean seemed to read your desperation. He looked up without removing his mouth from you, his blue eyes darkened with desire and arrogance.

“Want something more, baby?” he murmured against your pussy, the vibration of his voice sending another wave of pleasure through you.

You nodded, breathing hard.

“Please…”

He sucked your clit harder for a second, making you gasp loudly, before speaking again:

“Then ask properly. I want to hear you beg.”

Shame and arousal mixed in your chest. You knew he was playing with you, enjoying the power he had in that moment, and although part of you wanted to resist, your body was on fire.

“Dean…” you begged, your voice broken. “Please… I need you inside me. I can’t take it anymore.”

He smiled against your skin and kept licking, slower now, torturing you.

“Is that all? You can do better.”

You closed your eyes, biting your lip.

“Please, Dean…” you begged with more intensity, your voice cracking. “Fuck me. I need you to fuck me. I want you inside me right now… please.”

Something changed in his expression. His eyes lit up with pure satisfaction. He loved hearing you beg. He loved having you like this: naked, desperate, and pleading for him.

“Good girl,” he growled.

He stood up quickly, pulled his t-shirt over his head, and shoved down his pants along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, thick, hard, and with the tip already glistening. He positioned himself between your legs, gripping your thighs and spreading you wider for him.

“I can’t deny you anything when you look at me like that,” he admitted hoarsely, almost as if it annoyed him how much he wanted you.

He leaned over you, bracing one forearm beside your head, and kissed you deeply as he guided his cock to your entrance. He rubbed the swollen head against your soaked pussy several times, teasing you, until he finally thrust.

He entered you with one deep stroke.

You both moaned at the same time. He was big, hot, and stretched you in the most delicious way. Dean stayed still for a second, letting you adjust, his forehead pressed to yours.

“Fuck… you’re so tight,” he growled against your mouth.

He started moving. First slowly, pulling out almost completely before sinking back in to the hilt. Then he picked up the pace, fucking you harder, deeper. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room along with your moans and his low grunts.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, digging your heels into his back, asking for more without words. Dean gripped your hips tightly, thrusting with precise, powerful strokes that made the bed creak.

Every time he bottomed out, he hit that perfect spot inside you.

“Just like that… right there,” you moaned, almost breathless.

The guilt was still present, but it no longer mattered. In that moment, only Dean existed: his scent, his weight on top of you, his cock fucking you mercilessly, his mouth biting your neck and whispering in your ear how good you felt.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked between thrusts, his voice rough. “You wanted me to fuck you while your sister is downstairs?”

His words hit you like a whip. You blushed violently, but your pussy clenched around him.

Dean let out a laugh.

“You like it dirty, don’t you?”

You couldn’t respond. You just moaned louder as he sped up, fucking you harder, faster, as if he wanted to mark you.

Dean kept fucking you but suddenly pulled out. You let out a whimper of protest at the empty feeling. He sat on the edge of the bed and called you.

“Come here,” he said, pulling you toward him.

You climbed on top, straddling him. Dean guided you as you slowly lowered yourself onto his cock, filling you completely in this new position. You placed your hands on his chest and started moving. First slowly, enjoying how deep he felt, then faster, bouncing on him.

Dean had his hands on your hips, guiding you, his gaze traveling from your breasts to your eyes.

“You’re fucking insane…” he murmured, almost with frustration. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since that first night.”

You picked up the pace, moving your hips in circles. Dean let out a low moan and squeezed your ass hard, helping you slam down harder. You were exhausted, sweaty, your legs shaking, but you couldn’t stop.

“Dean… I’m going to come…” you warned, almost breathless.

“Do it,” he ordered, looking at you intently. “Come on my cock.”

The orgasm hit you hard. Your whole body tensed, squeezing him inside you as you moaned his name. Dean followed shortly after, growling against your neck as he came inside you, holding you tightly against his body.

You both stayed still, breathing heavily, skin sticky and hearts pounding.

Several minutes passed. You were still sitting on top of him, head resting on his shoulder, trying to catch your breath. Reality began to crash down on you like a heavy weight. The guilt returned stronger now that the pleasure was fading.

Dean slowly caressed your back with one hand. Suddenly he spoke, his voice low but firm:

“You’re not going to run away from me.”

You lifted your head to look at him. He was watching you with that characteristic intensity, with no trace of doubt.

“This… whatever this is,” he continued, “doesn’t end here. You’re not going to run from me at parties again, you’re not going to ignore my messages, and you’re not going to pretend you don’t want me as much as I want you.”

You were tired. Physically and emotionally exhausted. Your legs were shaking, you had his cum dripping down your thighs, and the image of Allie laughing downstairs at the party wouldn’t leave your mind.

You knew you should tell him this was a mistake. That they had to stop but you had no strength left. You just looked at him, breathing slowly, and finally nodded weakly.

“…Okay,” you whispered, almost voiceless.

Dean smiled, satisfied. He kissed you on the lips, softer this time, and pulled you against his chest.

“Good girl,” he murmured against your hair.

You stayed there, wrapped in his arms, knowing this only complicated everything… but too tired to keep fighting whatever this was.