#i felt so odd being the only young person there though but i know that's just my own insecurity and not how they'd feel | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blakeswritingimagines · 5 months

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Burn The House Down

Summary: Having to have you was always his main goal, as time passes and you change as people Aemond seems indifferent even during your big news.

Word Count: 3.7k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

For years since you were children, you did your best to be kind to the Targaryen children no matter how odd they seemed, never noticing how Aemond always seemed to be around or that he was behind things falling apart in your life even when he was there to console you. But would continue on when something better seemed to take place in front of you. The older you got, the more you slowly but surely noticed how erratically and obsessive Aemond seemed toward things in his life but kept shrugging it off like it was nothing going about your day. Aemond had been secretly stalking you since a young age, watching you from the shadows, making sure you were always safe. When you both were children you could always catch him staring at you with that odd look in his eye, that burning obsession and curiosity as his fingers twitched waiting to touch you. As time went by, and you all became adults, you had started to notice him even more. He was always there somewhere close by. You noticed the odd things happening in your life, you did not know they were his own doing. He had a certain power over you and your life.

Aemond can recall each time you were quite kind to him during his formative years in the Red Keep. You always listened to his troubles, and his desire to leave and see the world. He remembered your kindness towards him even without a dragon, he can understand how you might have not noticed the attention he lavished upon you. You were often busy with matters of your own and he did not wish for you to worry about things, he tried to keep his feelings to himself as best he could when he could. He did not see his affection for you as erratic but rather focused on something he truly desired. You used to go visit him in the courtyard when you weren't busy with more important matters. You always seemed to have a lot in common even if it was Aemond altering himself to fit you better, but one thing that never changed was that he still kept following you, being close to you, and watching you with those lilac/sapphire eyes of his, that sparkled every time he turned his gaze on you always seeming to be studying you. You had only been a child when Aemond's strange obsessions started. But as your body changed into maturity, his interest in you changed as well. Aemond watched closely you growing into a young woman, your curves getting fuller, and he felt… things. Forbidden fantasies, desires. He was ashamed, of course. Naturally, he went out of his way to pray more often but he couldn't help it. You were his friend, yes. But also, you were something else to him. Though his intentions were not clear, it did not help that you saw Aemond as an older brother-like figure. However, there was always something that piqued your interest and intrigued you at the same time, the odd affection he had for you. You could not comprehend how someone could follow your routine for so long and not make a proper confession to you, or at least make a romantic advance which led you to believe he must've not cared in such a way. He wanted to know more about you the older you become. Your likes, dislikes, hopes, dreams, secrets, etc.

He always wanted to get closer to you and get to know you even better almost as if he wanted to lock you away and be the only one around you. One thing that stood out to Aemond was that whenever he would see you, you would always be kind and warm towards him regardless of his choices and decisions he would make. You seemed to genuinely care about him and his well-being. You never tried to pressure him to talk about his feelings or share any of his personal thoughts. Aemond had always appreciated this about you. You were someone he could turn to and trust. You noticed him again, just as you had when he was younger. In passing, you glimpse that same strange look in his eyes and recall all those times he was always near. You ponder what it could mean and wonder if maybe he still felt the same way. It worried you. Your duties and responsibilities keeping you busy but you can't help but wonder what Aemond is doing and if he is still watching over you. You had not forgotten about him. His attention and affection have not gone unnoticed.

That attention and affection were growing daily. It was all Aemond would think about when he first woke up or when he would fall asleep. His thoughts would be consumed with everything he could know about you, where you were, what you were doing, all of it. It got to the point where if he was not near you he felt lost. He always knew where your chamber would be, who your friends were, your favorite foods, your favorite cloth to wear, everything. He needed to be near you. You were the only person in this realm who truly made him feel this way, and he was unsure he wanted his feelings to go unanswered any longer. It was not uncommon for Aemond to keep watch over you, but he rarely made himself visible if he could help it. He was not one to reveal his own feelings but this was something different. He began to feel drawn to having you as his, like a magnet. He was constantly thinking about you, wondering when you would cross paths again spending more time together, hoping the next time you did he might muster up the courage to speak his truth. He knew you deserved to know how he felt. But how do you tell someone something like that without knowing if they feel the same?

He was obsessed with you. He needed you, and not just physically but emotionally. He wanted more than your body, he wanted your mind and soul. He would do anything to be close to you, to touch your smooth skin, anything to have you notice him. You were his muse, his everything. He wanted your attention, he wanted your love… he wanted you. Yes, his obsession with you had become his obsession to possess you. His life had become completely consumed by you even if he was capable of saving face in front of others. Nothing mattered to him except you. Nothing else had meaning to him anymore. He had to have you. The risk of rejection was too severe for him. He could never bring himself to reveal how he felt. But he had to make you want him. He knew that if he could just figure out what you desired in a partner, he could make you his and own you. The more obsessive and possessive he became, the more you seemed to become oblivious. You might never even think to look his way.

He could be near you or call on you, but that was not enough. He wanted more than that. He wanted you to be his and only his not enjoying when another held your attention. He wanted you all to himself. He spent hours dreaming of ways he could make you realize how he felt, how he needed you like he needed air in his lungs. He would even contemplate things he could do to make you jealous, just so that you would notice him and confront him. He had to confess his feelings or he would simply implode. If you felt the same way he could not wait another minute. If you did not… He would find a way to make you care enough about what would happen.

You often caught a glimpse of him in your peripheral vision. It started to frighten you a bit, wondering if someone knew your secrets. But you always ignored those thoughts even being comforted by the tall blonde male himself that he would look after you, reminding yourself daily that Aemond wouldn't do anything to hurt you. You continued going about your life, trying to forget your suspicions. One evening, you were walking back to your chambers when you felt someone's eyes on you. Turning around and seeing Aemond, watching you. He smiled at you nervously. You were about to walk away when he stopped you. He cleared his throat. He had prepared this moment in his head for so long. There was so much he wanted to say, he did not know how to begin. He was nervous and fidgeting but he was glad he had finally stopped you. He had prepared exactly what he wanted to say. He took a step towards you. “My lady. I… I have spent a long time in this castle. And in that time I have been watching you and there is something I must tell you.”

Your heart started to beat rapidly, almost painfully. You knew what he was going to say but you didn't want it to be true. You listened to his words silently, wondering what he had to say. Your face was a mixture of emotions. You were nervous but you were trying hard to hide it. You were afraid that if you let your guard down, he would see just how much power he wielded over you. "What do you wish to say, Aemond?" You asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You stood silently, listening to every word Aemond had to say to you. Your face was filled with emotions but you couldn't tell what those were, it was a mix of confusion and scared. You took a step back from Aemond, unsure of what to say or what to do. "You… what did you want to say?" You said while biting your lower lip nervously. Aemond's sudden approach surprised you, making you uneasy for some reason… You had never seen him so forward before, it wasn't like him. He stepped closer. He had to get this right. He took a deep breath and continued. “I-I… I wish to…” he stumbled a bit. He had to collect himself. “I have known you for a long time my lady, and ever since the day I first saw you my life has changed. Every time I look at you my heart beats faster. Every time you walk through these halls I have to stop myself from following you. My lady, I want… no… I need you. You are my everything."

You feel butterflies in your stomach at Aemond's words as he speaks of his feelings for you. You'd never heard something so romantic from anyone, let alone Aemond. You were speechless. Your mind was racing and you were not sure what to say. "Aemond..." You said while biting the inside of your cheeks, feeling overwhelmed by his confession. "I don't... I didn't expect this. I thought you... felt the way about someone else." You looked down playing with your fingers, trying to find the right words to say in return. “Do you… have someone else then, my lady?” He asked with a nervous expression on his face. He was not sure if he wanted to hear the answer to that question. He had to find out. But could he bear to hear you tell him that you loved another?! The thought of another man touching you, being embraced by your arms, kissing your soft lips was… it made him feel sick with jealousy and rage. No, why would you ever be interested in someone else? Surely he had to be your one and only.

“Darling…” he took a step even closer, you two were almost face to face. “There is no one but you. I dream of you, when I lay with those whores I close my eyes and see your face. You…” he paused. “You are perfect for me.” He grabbed your hand, his body trembling, nervous about your answer. “Please, say something. Tell me I’m wrong.” He whispered, his breath trembling. Aemond looked you in the eyes. “No. There has never been anyone else. How couldn’t I fall for someone like you? You are a beauty second to none. I do not deserve you for I am just a second son, just a prince. It is true I am the second son but you are my first love.” He held out his other hand. “Please, let me court you, my lady.” He said while holding back a smile. He was waiting for your response. Your thoughts were still racing, feeling confused and overwhelmed by Aemond's words and gestures at that moment. You look up at him, biting your lower lip as you tried to gather your thoughts. You didn't know what you should do or say but there was something Aemond's words brought to your mind a question you had been asking yourself for a while now. You looked up and met his eye, hesitating in what to say but you decided to just be honest. You took a deep breath and exhaled. "Aemond…" You said quietly. "I was wondering… do you truly love me?".

Aemond gulped. Could you truly be asking him that?! A question he had been dying to hear fall from your lips but could not bring forth. He was speechless, his mind racing, his heart beating faster than the drums of war. Was that your way of accepting his feelings? Or was that your way of turning him down? “Do I love you?” Aemond repeated the question. “My lady… I do not think I can love anyone else.” "Say it, Aemond." Your tone had become firm, as your eyes were looking straight at Aemond. There is no going back and you both knew it. "Say that you love me." You took a step closer to him, your face right in front of his. You wanted him to say it. "And mean it with all your heart." You spoke, putting your hands on his chest. You knew he was about to say it, you could feel it. He took a deep and nervous breath. You were so incredibly close to him. He could see your eyes, and hear your soft breath. He felt his heart racing and almost skipped a beat. He could not help but notice just how beautiful you were. But would he say the words? He paused and gulped. He had to say it. He had to mean it. He had to be true to his feelings or otherwise live with a regret worse than death. Aemond took a step closer placing his hands gently on your face and stared directly into your sparkling eyes. He had been dreaming of this moment. “I love you. I love you with all my heart.” The words just… poured out of him. His feelings had overcome him. He had no way of stopping them. There would be no turning back once he spoke them. But he had no choice. You deserved to hear the words. You deserved to hear how he felt. “I love you. I love you with everything that I am.” And he meant it. He meant every word.

You felt the coldness of your husband's touch after months of your marriage and knew things had changed. You knew something was wrong and wanted to have a word with Aemond about it only for him to keep sending you away. You confronted him late one night in your shared chambers, alone, with no one around. "Aemond, what happened to that sweet and loving man I once married?" You asked with a sad expression on your face while sitting on the bed watching him. You had noticed that Aemond was slowly becoming cold and distant towards you. You had noticed his behavior change ever since the wedding night when your marriage was consummated. He no longer looked at you the same way and didn't show any emotions towards you, almost as if he was trying to hide the marriage from the world. You had tried confronting him about this a few times before and he had no answer, only excuses and half-hearted replies.

Aemond was sitting in a plush black leather chair opposite his wife, trying to contain his emotions. He hated seeing you sad, he hated seeing you cry, it was like an aching pain that he could not shake. But he could not tell you. You had to know why he did what he did but how could he ever tell you. How could you ever understand? He had to keep his voice soft, his expression stern, he could not show emotion. He hated the thought of you finding out what he had done, it was the one thing he feared the most. “Oh, my dear wife.” Aemond took slow steps toward you. His movements were cold and unenthusiastic. “What has happened to me? I’m not sure. It is nothing to worry over my love. I am merely busy with my duties. The Realm needs me more than you.” He took his place on the bed beside you, looking away from his wife. Why were you being like this, always nagging him about the smallest things? Always making mountains out of molehills. He had important work to do, you had become merely a distraction. "Oh but, Aemond…" You said, slightly annoyed by his tone. "And why do you only love the realm? Is there no love left for me? Is that why you act like this? You are always alone with that cold and distant gaze. You once were sweet and loving but I am not so sure anymore if that man is still in you."

You were getting angrier the more you spoke since you've been having mood swings lately and could react to nothing. Standing up with your hands on your hips while you stared at him, not breaking eye contact. You wanted answers. "You are ignoring me, Aemond," you said, your voice growing sterner. You slowly approached your husband, stepping closer to him and resting your hands on his shoulders. "We hardly speak. You act as if I am not there. You use the excuse of duties to keep me away. But you don't want me. I know it and I can feel it… Tell me, Aemond, do you still love me?" You took a deep breath attempting to calm yourself. You looked so desperate, so vulnerable. Of course, you would ask him something like this in a situation like this. He looked up to you with a frown. He could not believe you would question his love for you. What would cause you to think such a thought?! “You silly woman.” He sighed. You were pushing his buttons. He could not bring himself to yell at you, but maybe that was what you needed. He knew what you wanted to hear. “Yes! I love… you. Happy?” There, he said it. He hoped that would shut you up.

Those cold words wounded you but you tried to keep your emotions in check. You had to fight the urge to give him a harsh word. You didn't expect Aemond to have grown cold to you. Taking a step back and sat back down on the bed, your voice sounding defeated. "Very." You finally replied. Your voice sounded soft as you tried to keep your composure together. You wanted to cry, you just didn't expect this. You were expecting to love your marriage to a handsome prince to a T. But you were wrong. Oh, how you were wrong… You didn't know what went wrong. You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment or reason. You didn't understand the whole situation, you could feel Aemond's coldness towards you and you knew that you had to do something but you just didn't know what. You were getting desperate.

You were walking through the halls of the Red Keep, as everyone was busy getting ready for the feast. You heard two lords whispering to each other as you walked past, one of them talking about you. “The Prince's wife has gained weight. She's nothing close to what she once was in her youth.” He whispered, referring to your younger years, as the other lord chuckled at the comment. “She is no longer a beauty in the sight of men,” said one of them. You couldn't believe the way the Lords and Ladies spoke to you. They mocked you behind your back, calling you the Prince's delight and a whore, all of it hurt you deeply. But to see your own husband do nothing to stand up for you… it hurt more than any insult you had ever heard. You couldn't believe it. You had never seen this side of him before. You heard the whispers behind you and felt hurt. You were not the person you once were, but was beauty the only thing these lords cared about? But alas, it was true. You had recently put on weight. It was hard not to let your lifestyle get to you. The constant feasting and your love of wine were catching up to you. You did not wish to turn, you did not wish to confront them, you wanted to be left alone. You wanted this day to pass by without any issues but knew you still had to appear beside Aemond and hopefully, he be in a good mood.

As the feast started, you were placed next to your husband Aemond, who looked bored throughout the entire event. He didn't acknowledge any of the guests, or you. The lords whispered about your weight gain, behind your back to anyone who listened. Your dress was tight and the whispers bothered you, making you self-conscious. You ate in small portions, not wanting to appear gluttonous. You took a sip of wine and your eyes spotted Aemond, who was staring at you. You knew it was time for an important statement to clear the air. "Aemond." Aemond froze. Hearing his name be spoken. He was speechless. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears and could see the lords whispering and chattering, but for some reason, he could hear nothing. He felt as if he was going mad. But he knew that his hopes were in vain. He looked up to you. The look on his face was one of no emotions. What did you want now? “Yes, my lady?” Aemond asked with his usual apathetic tone. You seemed to be speaking, but he could barely hear you from all the feasting and loud music. What did you want to say?

"I'm pregnant."

#aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #house of the dragon

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loliwrites · 6 months

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The One You Need | one

🎶 I spent most my life thinkin' love was out of reach, so maybe just this once, you could be the one I need, if you let me be the one you need 🎶

Pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader Rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni Summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. Warnings/Tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], slow burn [ish], hyper-independent reader, a bit of a misandrist mindset [boys are problems], mentions of family drama/turmoil, passing mention of death [elderly neighbor], brief non-violent use of a pocket knife, mention of stabbing [as self-defense], furniture building, reader described as female, hair long enough to tie up, no other physical descriptions, eventual smut, protective!joel, soft!joel, no use of y/n. Word Count: 4.6k Series Masterlist | part two a/n: this is my first time writing with this sort of format so pls be gentle. i’ve done my best to tag as thoroughly as possible, but if you think i’ve missed something, let me know. i have no outline for this. but i’ve got a whim and a direction and i’m going with it. **please read the warnings/tags for every part as they will be updated**

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You’d done it. Finally. No one ever thought you would, including you. And yet, here you were, lugging your sparse personal belongings out of the back of a U-Haul truck and in through the front door of your new home. And for once in your adult life, it wasn’t in some impersonal apartment building or complex. It was a house. In a town that was actually affordable, though it was further from home than you might’ve preferred. A town that was away from family, which had been the impetus, but also away from friends, which hadn’t been.

There was a perk to this being the first house you’d ever moved into. Being confined to seven hundred square feet had meant there was only so much room to fill. And it had all been cozy. But now there was a bit more space to work with. Not to say this house was large by any stretch of the imagination – it was on the smaller side of all the houses in the neighborhood – but you had rooms now. And as you loaded in different boxes and suitcases full of clothes and books, you realized how much of the space was going to be left empty. With the exception of a mattress, bed frame, dresser, a couple chairs, and bookcases, you left every other large piece of furniture behind. Couches, dining table, kitchen chairs, media console, TV… you planned on buying all of that in town. You only wanted to bring what you felt you could move yourself.

It was the season of life you were in. Young enough for people to say you had time before focusing on creating a family for yourself, but not young enough to avoid their awkward and worried glances when you told them you were only focused on your career. It was odd; never something that settled right. With each birthday, every time a candle was added, the world around you seemed less secure with your aloneness. As if you, a single female, were something of a threat to the rest of the world. Your solitude, an act of rebellion. God forbid you didn’t have a man to look after you. In your experience, boys didn’t do too good a job at much. Were they useful? Absolutely. You’d much rather delegate tasks to a boy than have to do them yourself. Mow the lawn, fix a creaky door, seal a drafty window, get you off… sure, there were any number of things a boy could do, but not only were they not necessary, you generally found you were better at any job than they were. That had been instilled in you long before you began dating.

How many times had it been proven that dad could not be held accountable for his entire emotional spectrum? And instead you, a mere child, were to be responsible for it. Though it wasn’t always bad – somewhere deep down you knew your parents had done the absolute best they knew how to do with the tools they had – but the emotion dad was never short on was anger. Thus, it was the emotion he was most comfortable expressing. And yes, you apparently were the catalyst for all of his loud expressions of anger and rage. Everything was always conditional. I’m sorry but you did this…

I love you but…

By the time dating had entered your life (which only happened post-college), let’s just say no therapist was surprised by the pattern of boys you chose to have in your life. All of them modeled the thing you were familiar with, which only served to imbed the quality you hated most about yourself. There was a tendency to accept any treatment a boy was willing to give you, without expressing needs or desires or even if there was a problem. Boundaries? Never heard of her. As far as boys were concerned, they seemed to have carte blanche over you. Your own resentment and anger would grow by the lack of your needs (which had never been verbally expressed) being met, until you’d had enough and cut them off. Every new relationship felt like a complete betrayal of yourself.

The highly independent and ‘don’t need a man’ personality quirk had strung a ribbon of apathy around your life. You liked to think of it that way. Like a Christmas bow around a present. Realizing you didn’t care about forming intimate relationships with men seemed a little less painful when given the image of a box neatly wrapped beneath a tree donning tinsel and colorful lights. It was at that point, while pondering your ribbon of apathy and clumsily shoving your mattress up the front porch steps, that a voice interrupted your progress.

“Lemme help ya’ with that, ma’am,”

The voice had arms. And those arms were simultaneously reaching for the same end of the mattress you already had hands on. Instinctively, you tugged your bed out of reach, “I got it.” But hands kept coming. They were insistent. Of course they were a man’s hands. A woman would’ve listened the first time. So with an extra strong tug and a tone that spat fire, you turned toward the owner of the hands and stood your ground, “I said, I got it!”

Dark brown eyes that almost looked black had the sun not been playing in their favor. They were soft. Gentle. Despite the fact that he’d just gotten yelled at. And those soft dark brown eyes… well they looked dumbfounded. Whether it was because of the volume of the statement or the fact that people generally didn’t turn down friendly help here in the South, he lifted his hands off the mattress and held them up innocently.

The force with which your action had been committed meant that the moment he released the bed, you went stumbling over, the entire thing thudding down on the porch. You shot him another icy glare as he slowly backed off the steps, though he remained in place and watched you crouch down to lift your mattress once again; the pad now harboring dirty stains.

“Can I help you with something in the truck?” He offered again. Unwanted persistence was a uniquely male quality.

“I don’t need your help, thanks. I got it,”

He watched for just a second longer at the image of you fumbling with the heavy mattress, barely able to keep it upright. Then he turned on his heels and went back from whence he came. Which you came to realize, when you looked over your shoulder to ensure he’d actually gone, was across the street and a few houses down. Fuck. Back in California, not too many people were neighborly but it wasn’t a point you were hoping to make. Especially not on the first day. There was a quaintness to the idea of a neighborhood full of people who liked and looked out for one another. You’d just hoped that would’ve come in the form of some old, opinionated woman sipping tea in a rocking chair on her front porch. The kind that maybe the kids were afraid of, but she was awesome. That’s when it came to mind that maybe that was the void in the neighborhood you were filling. You were to be the crotchety old woman, yelling at “those darn kids”. Fabulous.

Unfortunately (for no other reason than your own ego) you only got the mattress in through the threshold of the front door before it fell to the side and flopped back down to the floor. With a sigh and a thought that maybe it wasn’t so bad if it just lived there, you stepped over it and padded into the kitchen. Managed to place the boxes designated to the room in it, but had yet to unpack anything. You turned on the tap and tilted your head to the side, leaning in to take a sip of water directly from it. Only to find that upon turning off the tap and looking out the bay window by the sink, the man that had offered to help was visible from his yard. He wheeled out his trash and recycling bins to the curb. Resting his hands on his hips, he glanced around and took stock of the neighborhood. All seemed quiet and to his liking.

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Joel liked routine. Habit-forming had become a sort of habit. It meant he knew what his days looked like. It meant he was prepared. And after having been handed a life where being ill-prepared meant something was going wrong, there was great comfort in knowing how things were going to go day by day. Though he wasn’t rigid. He could include new things in his routine. For instance…

One morning he woke up, made his usual pot of coffee before work, and stood out on his porch. It’d be one of his only moments to slow down and actually notice the day. That’s when he noticed something new in his routine. A “For Sale” sign went up on Mrs. Wilson’s front lawn. Everyone in the neighborhood had been expecting it because, well, Mrs. Wilson had passed away. In her sleep one night. Joel thought that must’ve been the nicest way to go. And every morning, he’d go out on his porch and ponder Mrs. Wilson before carrying on with the rest of his routine. As such, he saw when it sold and went into escrow. He saw Mrs. Wilson’s son move out all of his mother’s old furniture until the place was left empty. Everything was routine.

That is, until the U-Haul showed up this morning. It was a small one and he remembered thinking there was no way that little truck contained enough furniture to fill up that house. But he brushed it off, continued with his routine, and went off to work. Though he had to admit, he was wholly curious about the new neighbor he was about to inherit.

He left his jobsite early afternoon, his truck ambling back to his house when another neighbor waved him down to stop him.

“Hey, Mr. Cole,” Joel smiled at the elderly man. Mr. Cole had been the first one to greet Joel when he’d first moved into town. Mr. Cole knew everything going on in the neighborhood, courtesy of Mrs. Cole.

“You see that gal move into Mrs. Wilson’s house?”

Joel nodded, “saw that woman move in, yeah.”

“Mighty pretty,”

Joel chuckled, “surely not as pretty as Mrs. Cole,”

“I don’t know,”

Joel laughed a little harder. “I’ll see ya’ around. Stop snoopin’.”

He’d only just arrived back home and parked his truck in the driveway when he saw you struggling with the mattress. And his mama raised him better than that so he went to offer his help. There hadn’t been a fiber in his being that thought you’d snap back like you had. That’s why he tried a second time. And when the second snap was stronger than the first, he raised his hands and backed off.

Shit. Out-of-towners were getting meaner and meaner.

He meandered to his house and only looked back once, just in time to see the mattress fall to the floor just inside the front door. He smiled to himself and continued on with his routine as much as possible. Tomorrow was trash day which meant the bins needed to be brought out. Simple enough task, just the way he liked it. He liked it even more when he spotted a glimpse of you looking at him through your kitchen window.

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You forwent unpacking anything that day. It wasn’t worth it. Nothing you pulled out would truly have a place to live until you got the furniture situation handled. And seeing as though your bed was still in the entryway, you figured there were bigger problems to handle. But just by looking at the hallway, and the thin doorways, you knew you were going to have a hell of a time bending and twisting the mattress to your will… and the architecture. Grocery shopping proved to be more time-sensitive, and once the fridge was as fully stocked as your bank account would allow, it already started to feel more like home. Which also meant, the way you’d snapped at your neighbor started to bother you more. You had to live in this person’s realm – whatever that looked like. He was your neighbor, and short of literally becoming the crotchety old woman that never left her home, there wasn’t a way for you to avoid him altogether. He seemed to have a lot of friends on the block. That’s also when you decided to suck up to your pride. To apologize to this man who really didn’t deserve an apology at all. Whatever it took to just live in peace.

The more you thought about it, the more it angered you. That was pretty par for the course. It would’ve been more odd if a man wasn’t pissing you off. It was still running through your mind as you plucked a six-pack from your fridge and crossed the street in the direction of his house. You thought about how you were going to have to plaster a phony smile on your face and make niceties to this person who you didn’t want to get to know. You just wanted to live. And you thought you’d have more time. As you ascended his porch steps, you made for the front door, zeroed in on it.

“Hey,”

The voice startled you, tripping over your own feet and stumbling, very nearly losing the six-pack of bottles to the wooden porch. You glanced over at him, and in the dim light his porch light gave off, watched him take an acoustic guitar out of his lap and set it beside his chair.

“Hi,” you mumbled and walked in his direction. “I’m your new neighbor,”

“I know. You yelled at me,”

You rolled your eyes, “I didn’t yell at you. I was just letting you know–”

“S’for me?”

You looked back down at him and noticed how he pointed at the six-pack of beer. “We got off on the wrong foot and I just want to live in peace and quiet so,” gesturing to the beer, “peace offering.” You handed the pack to him.

Joel cradled the cardboard sleeve in his lap and pulled out a bottle. “Want one?”

“No, thanks. I just came to drop them off,”

He flicked his eyes up and pulled out a second bottle. Then, setting the remaining bottles on the floor beside him, he twisted the first cap off. “S’not nice to yell at someone and then refuse their offer to share a drink,”

“I didn’t yell at you,”

“Sit down.”

And for whatever reason, you listened. In the past, had any man spoken to you like that, especially one you didn’t know from Adam, you’d’ve smacked him. But not this time. This time you sat in the chair perched next to his and awkwardly took the open beer from his hand when he passed it over to you.

The silence that ensued was tense and palpable. Neither willing to bend first. Joel kept his eyes focused on his beer bottle and you kept your focus on… him. Naturally suspicious and wary, you thought if you kept your gaze on him, you’d catch him before he did anything out of hand. But really all you noticed was the way his nose had a slight downward curve to it. And the way the graying hair at the back of his head curled along his neck. And the way his beard, also graying, came in in patches, but in the most endearing way. Wrinkles and worry lines had etched their way deep in his forehead. Crow’s feet found a home in the corners of his eyes. Both told you this was a man who had felt and lived a lot of life: the good and the bad. You thought you saw a small scar on his cheek just below his eye, but you couldn’t be sure. The man was middle-aged. His skin and hands gave the appearance he was a blue-collar, working man who’d spent his life in the beating sun.

“Get everything moved in?” He took a sip and eyed you, aware that you were nodding, but still the glance he gave you made you think he knew you were lying. Obviously you were.

“My bed is still by the front door,” you relented.

“Not where I’d recommend a bedroom be, but to each their own,”

“I can’t get it down the hallway by myself.” You tried to ignore that he seemed to light up at the admission. You? Needing his help? “It’s too narrow,”

“Want help?”

You looked at him almost incredulously. Had you treated California neighbors the way you treated them, you'd have been lucky if you didn’t find your car keyed the next day. But he was offering his help? Again?

“You’d help me after the way I yelled at you?”

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “You didn’t yell at me,” another smile flashed over his face and he looked over at you again.

You hated that it made you smile, too. Yet you waved him off. “That’s alright. I’ll figure out a way,”

Joel chuckled and shook his head, taking a pause before he downed another long sip of his beer.

“What?” You urged.

“S’nothin’,'' he shook his head again with another grin. “Know you probably could figure out a way, but… s’just that you don’t need to. Why won’t you let me help you?”

You sucked in a deep breath, “look, I’m sure you’re a nice guy…” you trailed off realizing you didn’t know his name more than referring to him to yourself as that nosy neighbor guy.

He seemed to pick up on it and pointed to himself, “Joel. Miller,”

“But I don’t need a guy to get on with life, y’know? I’m a self-sufficient woman. I don’t need to rely on anyone but myself.”

Joel finished off his beer and stood up from his chair, “acceptin’ help when it’s offered isn’t relying on anyone else. It just makes life easier.” He started down the steps and crossed over his lawn.

“Where’re you going?!”

“To move your bed!”

Leaping up from your chair, you ran after him, in quick pursuit as he neared your home. You knew it was a wreck inside. Trash and boxes everywhere. Not ready for any visitors, even ones you didn’t want there in the first place.

“Really! It’s alright.” When that didn’t stop him from advancing toward your house, you tried another path, “the bed frame’s not even put together!”

“Then I’ll put it together,” he said over his shoulder, nearly in your front yard now.

You managed to lunge forward and grab onto his jacket sleeve, effectively stopping his advance. At least for the time being. “I don’t usually let men I don’t know into my home,”

“What?”

“You know… in case they’re crazy and kill me.”

Joel furrowed his eyebrows, utterly perplexed. He tried to make heads or tails of you as a whole and was having a hell of a time trying to do so. But he shoved his hand into the back pocket of his jeans and produced from it, a pocket knife. He unfolded it, which gave you some pause, but then he quickly held it out for you to take. You did, and as soon as the small weapon left his hand, he turned and continued toward your porch.

“Hey! What am I supposed to do with this?!”

“Stab me,”

“What?!”

He ascended the porch steps and waited at your front door, where you soon joined him. “If I do something weird, and you think I’m gonna kill you in your own house, you can stab me. Full permission,”

You looked down at the knife, and then back up at Joel.

“Can you open your door?”

Gulping down nerves, “it’s unlocked.”

“Still,” Joel pressed a smile, “I’m not in the habit of letting myself into women’s homes. I’d prefer if you opened it and let me in.”

For the second time today, you found yourself doing something all because a man told you to do so and you wondered if the move was making you soft. Regardless, you reached past Joel, pressed down on the lever, and nudged the door open. It stopped short from opening all the way as it hit the edge of your mattress. Joel flicked his eyes at you, as if silently saying see, you need me.

He shimmied his way in, with you close behind, half-heartedly pointing the pocket knife in his direction. He bent over and picked the mattress up off the floor, seemingly with ease. Though you did hear his knees click when he crouched down, but due to his age, you thought better than to bring it to attention. Hell, even your knees creaked every now and again.

“I’ll go backwards and steer it. Think you can be the muscle?” He waited until you nodded and set the knife down, and gathered your hair in a messy bun on top of your head to keep it out of the way. Poised at the other end of the mattress, he lined it up for its plight down the hallway. “Alright, nice and easy,” he began to pull, feeling more frictionless movement as you began helping on the other end. It wasn’t too hard; more awkward than anything. But he guessed the mattress weighed as much as, if not more than, you, so by yourself it must’ve been like dragging dead weight around. “Easy, easy,” he murmured, tilting the mattress to the side to accommodate for the doorjamb, “that’s it. Take it slow,” he elongated the end of the word, completely focused on the side of the mattress as it brushed along the door. “We’re in,”

You helped him lean the mattress out of the way and against the wall. “Thanks for your help, Joel,” you backed up toward the door, hoping he’d follow you.

But he ignored you completely, and instead found the parts to your metal bed frame laying on the floor. He lowered himself to his knees and inspected it. “You got a Phillips head?”

“Joel…”

“S’gonna take me ten minutes. The longer you stall, the longer I’m gonna be here.”

He had a point. And a very good one at that. So you turned and all but ran down the hall, searching for the box you’d so astutely labeled as “tools”. A fear set in that the longer you were away, the more time Joel had to go through your belongings (albeit sparse). You didn’t want him getting too comfortable in your home, least of all in your bedroom. So you rushed, tore open the “tools” box, dug through it until you found the screwdriver, and then raced back down the hall as if you’d have time to catch him snooping. But as soon as you arrived back in your bedroom doorway, you didn’t find him snooping. You found him still on his knees, crawling around, laying the different parts out to make the square your bed would soon sit on.

Joel smiled when he noticed you returned, and held his hand up to take the screwdriver from you. Only when he grabbed it, his face turned to horror and he grimaced at the pink floral design on the handle. “What’s this?”

“A screwdriver,”

“It’s got flowers on it,” he protested.

“It’s cute!”

He chuckled and started putting the bed frame together. “Y’know they charged you thirty percent more because they slapped flowers on it and marketed it toward women,”

You sat on the floor beside him and watched him work. “Well if I have to be the man in my life, my tools are gonna be a little more feminine,”

Joel glanced at you momentarily. Just long enough to question your statement, but not long enough for you to really notice he’d stopped working at all. “What about the actual man in your life?”

“Don’t have one. Don’t need one. I’ve got my floral tool set to prove it,”

A hum was the only acknowledgement Joel gave to that. As if that answered all his questions.

“What?”

“You talk a lot about how you don’t need anyone. I’m gatherin’ you actually only mean you don’t need a man. Which is fine and all, but s’just that that seems kinda lonely.” He set the screwdriver down and held the next two pieces together. “You remind me of me ten years ago. Stubborn. Determined to be alone.” He moved on to the next piece, “thing is… if you don’t need anyone, it also kind of implies that you’re not needed by anyone. And what good is life if you can’t give yourself to someone in that way?”

Jaw-dropped, you gathered yourself, eyes widening. “Wow, your wife must love having you as a husband,”

He smiled and chuckled, “I don’t have a wife.”

“So what do you know about giving yourself to someone and being needed?”

Joel flashed his eyes to you. Gentle and filled with love, “I have a daughter. Sarah. She’s in college now. She’s quite literally the best thing that’s ever happened in my life,”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a father,”

“‘Cause I look so young?” He grinned and tightened one final screw. With the frame now positioned where it needed to be, he stood up and went back to your mattress. You scooted out of the way as he single-handedly maneuvered it onto the frame and adjusted it until it was just perfect. “Check it off the to-do list. Now you can get a good night’s sleep,”

You admired his work and it wasn’t lost on you that it only took him a third of the time it would’ve taken you. Before you’d even gotten through that realization, Joel had already passed you and had made his way back out to the hall, where he walked down it back toward your front door. You followed after him, remaining quiet as he picked up his pocket knife from where you’d left it and tucked it back into his pant pocket. His hand got to the doorknob and you still hadn’t spoken, so he was the one to bite the bullet.

“You know, I never got your name.”

Heat crept up your neck, trying to make a home in your cheeks, as you mentioned your name to him. He smiled and nodded but offered nothing more, so you figured it was still your turn. “Thanks for your help, Joel,”

“No problem,” he waved you off.

“Maybe if more guys were like you, I wouldn’t hate them so much,”

“Give it time. You’ll be back to yellin’ at me soon.” He opened the front door and took a step through it. “Give me a holler if you need something, you know where I live,”

“Will do,”

He started to close the door but then opened it again and poked his head through. “Make sure you lock the door this time,”

You pressed a smile and approached the door where he waited until your hand was on the knob. With one last quiet goodbye, he pulled the door shut and you followed it up by locking it. Then with little time to spare, you ran to the window in the living room to watch him walk away. He pressed his hands into his pockets and looked around. Then a smile stretched over his face and he kicked at the grass before he crossed the street and moseyed back to his house.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #the one you need #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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xzaddyzanakinx · 2 months

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Not That Kind of Guy

Part Four: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, one-sided relationship, sexual content, pervy behavior, male masturbation, panty kink, sex daydreams [eventual warning for smut; be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin is doing his very best, he just loves you and wants you to be comfy around him. Just let him worm his way into your heart babe [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. I’m illiterate so apologies in advance MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: July 8th

Mr. Nelson’s funeral was today, it really was a beautiful ceremony as I look back on it. Even more so when my inner self smears the background enough to bring you to the front of the mental image.

You’d spoken to the man a handful of times, but I didn’t expect you to come. When I saw you accept the invite to the event on Facebook I thought surely it was a mistake. That was until you messaged Luke and asked him to accompany you, funerals make you nervous, but feeling obligated to do something and avoiding it makes you more nervous.

So your moral support was happy to attend and fight off dear old Alan’s corpse should he rise from the casket and set his sights on you.

And I though I had irrational fears, geez babydoll, how old were you when you watched Night of The Living Dead for the first time? If I had to guess it was too young. It’s alright though I get it, you know what movie traumatized me? The Mummy. Heebied my fucking Jeebies so bad I avoided the beach on family vacations.

You’re telling me there’s not a sarcophagus under all that sand? There’s at least one under there and you can’t convince me otherwise.

Solid ground for me only, please and thank you.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I had a thought that I initially considered to be a sweet reminder of my dear friend Alan. His obituary was in the newspaper and I happened to swipe one from the guest book table at the viewing as well. Have you ever scrapbooked before? I bet you’ve at least tried it.

Well I thought it would be nice to make him a page in my journal. A little celebration of life for the man who gave me an opportunity to grow and nurture my love for you.

Then I realized mid-glue stick on the newspaper clipping that the idea was something that a clinically insane person would do.

I’m not that guy. That guy’s not me.

But the glue was already on there and it felt wrong to toss Alan’s wrinkly old face into the trash so I pasted him into my journal anyway.

Crazy people don’t know that they’re crazy. I’m well aware that little idea was less than tasteful, just felt like I should mention that.

Date:

July 28th

Anakin Skywalker hadn’t been this happy since… ever. The previous record being his discovery of you, was now toppled into second place and overshadowed by ‘Move In Day’.

He could hardly contain himself. It was a dopamine high that he would ride out until he’d drained every last drop.

The movers lugged in box after box, furniture and books, until finally they dropped off the last load and thanked Anakin for the business. He eagerly shook their hand and shoved them out. He had preparations to make.

He set up his Tv, screen mirroring the live feed of the apartment building entrance to the big screen so that he could easily keep an eye out for you while he unpacked his kitchen.

He’d planned your ‘meet-cute’ meticulously, looking to your bookshelf and streaming services to gather intel on your ideal scenario. You were an odd bird, but he liked that about you. It’s part of your charm, it’s part of the challenge. You’re not as predictable in your tastes and interests as others can be.

Anakin formulated the interaction step by step, frame by frame in the storyboard of his imagination until he had the perfect scene. His box office hit that he’d replay over and over again until the next time he stood face to face with you.

It took quite some time and a load of practice. Discarded dialogue, awkward movements that made him feel stiff and less than human when he practiced them in the mirror. Endless options of clothes, shoes, and hair.

Should he get a new piercing? He wanted to. So he did, he knew you’d like it.

It’d match the one he already had on the opposite nostril. It made him feel more complete to add something so permanent to his body, he wished he could do something similar with you. He wanted you to be permanent, so maybe it’s his subconscious’s way of telling him that this was going in the right direction.

He was on the right path. His journey of life alone was coming to a close and a new trail would reveal itself. No more rocky, unsteady tread. No more sharp turns and blind spots, no more impossible inclines.

Scraped knees and bloodied hands would be distant memories. Maybe even distant enough that he could toss them into The Pit.

He would have no need for anger or sorrow anymore.

How could he feel anything but the warm embrace of love as he strolled down the flowered path ahead with you?

Who knew that you could position one box in 83 different ways and hate every single one of them? Anakin was so thankful there weren’t any actual surveillance cameras in the apartment building. It’d be really difficult to explain why he was in the hallway for an hour with his hands on his hips, scooting a box of books a centimeter or two at a time. Turning it sideways and then making sure the book on top was perfectly positioned and would effectively fall to the ground to catch your attention.

He checked his watch nonstop, stared at his Tv screen, willing you to just hurry the fuck up before he vomited from anxiety. He’d waited months for this. If he fucked it up now he’d… well he’d probably keel over on the spot.

Which would promptly traumatize you and not even his ghost would be able to peacefully haunt you. It’s hard to peacefully haunt someone if they watched you die, or at least Anakin assumed it would be difficult. He wasn’t willing to test that theory though.

So, he puffed up his chest and walked back into his apartment and rehearsed the upcoming conversation a few more times. He needed, desperately needed to ensure his facial expressions conveyed what he wanted.

Soft, trustworthy, dependable, safe, caring.

He practiced softening his eyes, knowing sometimes he stared alittle too hard. He worked on his facial fidget; chewing on the inside of his cheek was a quick tell of his nervousness. He didn’t want to be perceived as nervous, he wanted to be confident and sure of himself so that you would be confident in your soon to blossom affection for him.

His eyebrows, that’s a hard one, but he’d meticulously watched bar goers trying to flirt. The successful ones he learned, sometimes use their eyebrows in place of questions or words. A difficult concept, but one he studied until he mastered it.

Now, the other facial expressions and mannerisms… he gathered that information from your watch lists on your streaming services. For the visible examples at least, but your books were just as helpful in describing how he should approach you, speak to you, and simply exist near you.

He hadn’t realized these things were this important until now. Standing and posture was surprisingly very, very important to women. As well as hand movements and subtle glances and minuscule changes of expression.

You were worth the time and effort it took to learn all of it. He’d read and research and practice until he couldn’t stand to look at himself in the mirror any longer. He was determined to make sure you were happy with the results.

He was startled by a loud ping, someone had entered to building and holy shit it was you.

Anakin shook out his hands frantically, remembering the breathing techniques he’d learned as a child, he grounded himself quickly.

It’s okay.

‘She’s gonna love you. She’ll warm up to you quickly, you know everything you need to know about her to make her comfortable and loved.’

‘There’s no way she won’t fall head over heels.’

He smoothed out his band-tee and ran his hands through his hair quickly and headed to his door that was propped open slightly. A few boxes sat in the hall, including the most important one, the one instrumental to his plan.

The apartment hallway was ridiculously tiny, which worked in his favor in this situation.

He heard you come up the stairs, counted your steps until he knew you were almost at the door, 17 and a half steps. Then he swung open the door and bent down to grab one of the boxes.

As expected, he startled you and you dropped your keys. You always wore your backpack on one shoulder, one strap. So when you quickly went to scoop up your keys, your bag swung out of place and toppled a few books from one of the boxes.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Anakin could gloat to himself about his magnificent setup later, right now he needed to woo you with his sweet words.

“Oh, sweetheart I’m sorry.” He said softly, coming over to offer you a hand up.

“It’s okay, my bad.” You laughed, taking his hand.

He managed to keep calm and collected despite his insides boiling him alive at the willing skin contact.

“No, not at all. It’s my fault for startling you like that.” He chuckled, squeezing your upper arm and using his hand already in yours to give you a small handshake. Smooth.

“I’m Anakin.” He said with a bashful smile, dropping your hand and reveling in the lingering warmth your palm left on his.

You introduced yourself in return, gesturing to his apartment door.

“So I take it that you’re my new neighbor huh?” You said, making small talk as you crouched down to pick up the books you’d knocked over.

“No I’m just a one man moving crew.” He grinned.

“Very funny.” You laughed, standing up as you looked through the titles. “Hmm, you’ve got good taste.”

“You think so?” He asked, remembering to make his eyebrows swoop up toward the middle of his forehead to give a quizzical look.

“Oh yeah, this is one of my favorites.” You said, showing him the cover of The Silmarillion by Tolkien.

“Not many people actually read that one, I’m impressed.” He smiled.

“Impressed? Yeah well I’m jealous.” You laughed.

“What?” He chuckled, holding his hands out to take the other books from you.

“This is a really nice edition, it’s similar to mine. I recently lost it.” You sighed. “I think I must’ve left it the park or maybe it fell out of my bag or something.”

“Ah, that sucks… well, I mean I’ve read that one a few times now. It’s been well loved.” He said tipping the books in his arms toward the one you were holding. “Why don’t you keep it?”

He shrugged, acting nonchalant as though this didn’t mean the entire world to him and if you said no he’d sob about it later.

“You’re serious?” You asked in surprise, he was offering you a 50$ special edition book and you’d barely known him for a minute.

“Yeah, ‘course sweetheart.” He said with a cute, crooked smile. “Think of it as a… reverse house warming gift.” He chuckled.

“Thank you, I- this means a lot to me.” You said, grinning widely. “That’s real sweet of you Anakin. I owe you one.”

“No worries.” He chuckled, “I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it even sweetheart.” His gaze flickered quickly from your eyes to your lips, and he turned to go back into his apartment after giving you an almost-missed wink.

You stepped inside your home, and went straight to the bookshelf to put your new-to-you book where it belonged. After the fact you stood there and buffered, just staring at it.

‘There’s no way, this guy has to be too good to be true.’

But he seemed… so genuine. He didn’t ogle you, he didn’t make you feel weird or like he just felt obligated to speak to you.

He seemed to actually, really be a good guy.

Rare. Few and far of those exist in this day and age. It’s uncommon to meet someone who would do something, even as simple as giving you a used book, without expecting anything in return.

But he didn’t seem to expect anything. He didn’t seem to even expect a thank you, it was like he’d already decided he would give it to you before he even offered.

What are the odds that a hot, tattooed and pierced man moves in next door and gifts you an expensive book that just so happens to be an even better replacement for the one that you just lost? That couldn’t happen twice even if you tried to make it happen again.

What kind of second dimension did you step into? The land of dreamy men?

Diary Entry: July 28th

It’s late. But I have to write to you, it can’t wait til tomorrow.

Everything went more perfectly than I could’ve imagined. Thank you so much for being you sweet girl. It made my job of curating the scenery so much easier, you clumsy little thing. I am sorry for having to spook you though, but it worked didn’t it?

Research pays off. Always.

And of course there’s the issue of your book, I hated to see your frustration and your mad scowl when you realized it was missing from your backpack. I really did.

But I’d do it every goddamn day if I knew I’d get the same reaction out of you from giving you that new copy.

Oh god you’re… you’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful. You look angelic when you sleep but you look like competition for Aphrodite when you smile at me.

You smiled, grinned. You smiled all the way up to the corners of your bright and beautiful eyes. For me.

You even laughed for me.

It was so sweet I could taste it. The honey of your voice, I could fucking bathe in it. Just the sound of you speaking, knowing you were speaking to me. Really speaking to me.

In the flesh.

It’s intoxicating. It’s emboldening, it’s dangerous. I’ve never been more worked up in my life. I’m torn all to pieces from at two minute and 6 second conversation.

I think I’ll have to fucking recover from this like a damn hangover.

But what has me so drunk you might ask? Was it your laugh at my stupid jokes? Was it your perfect smile, your radiant glow, your soulful eyes? The softness of your skin or you willingness to let me touch you?

No baby. It’s how you said my name.

I wish I could’ve stayed longer, I wish I could’ve spoken to you more. But it’s so hard to concentrate when my dick is leaking precum down my leg at a rate that should probably be concerning.

The minute you closed that door I shoved those boxes into my apartment and locked the door. Took my elated ass straight to the couch and watched you in your living room, admiring your gift from me while I fucked my fist with a pair of your dirty panties in my mouth.

I couldn’t have your honeyed lips soothing my angry red cock just yet, but I sure as hell could imagine licking your gorgeous little cunt while I tasted you.

I tugged my balls and pumped my cock for over half an hour until I was a fucking mess for you in my new living room’s floor. The cool hardwood letting the heat from my flushed skin seep away from me as I came back down to earth.

I made myself dizzy. Didn’t give myself a break, didn’t slow down, just stroked my cock like the desperate little manwhore that I am for you. The only thing missing was you being there to watch me fall apart.

I think you’d like that wouldn’t you? Watching a man like me get on his knees and beg for you?

Diary Entry: July 29th

I’ve replayed that moment in my head for hours on end. The beginning always stays the same, but the ending… that’s been subject to many changes. It started off simple, we’d chat alittle longer, I’d ask you how your day was; you’d tell me it was ‘fine, thank you’.

Or you’d ask me why I decided to move in, why I chose this side of town, this side of town, this apartment building, across from you. That one always ended questionably and I’d rather not explore that one on paper.

My favorites however were the ones where you’d laugh at a stupid pick-up line and somehow we’d end up in your bed. The bed I’ve sat and watched you sleep in. Those were the best additions.

Now, I’ve been fortunate enough that you’ve been loyal, faithful and devoted to only me since the very beginning. So I don’t really have a clue what you’d actually be like in bed.

But god it’s so fun to imagine it.

You’ve got such pretty, soft skin. You let me mar it up with my teeth and soothe it with my tongue. You let me grip the pillowy flesh of your thighs to spread you open for me. You let me pinch and roll and pull your nipples until they were raw and begging for a break. You let me caress the sensitive slick covered folds between those beautiful pussy lips, plunge my fingers in as far as they’d go.

I took you from behind, watching your perky little ass bounce off my cock while I plowed into you. Your face smushed against the couch cushions and your body folded over the arm rest for me to fuck you like the good little girl that you are.

Against the wall with your arms around my neck while I’ve got my hands holding you spread open and in place by the crook of your knees. You promised you stay real still so that I could drill up into you like you deserved.

God damn. Do you know how good you look like that? Back arched against the wall, tits jiggling in my face with every thrust. Your legs pushed up and back to the sides of your torso, to pin you in place?

It was like a pretty pink flower had bloomed and spread its buttery smooth petals just for me.

Don’t even get me started on how good you suck cock. Have you ever been told you could be mistaken for a warm, wet Hoover? No? Didn’t think so cause that would be rude as hell, but I bet someone’s thought it before.

(Me. It’s me, I thought that.)

Fuck those soft lips. Fuck that smooth snake of a tongue. Fuck that tight, hot throat that just loves to take a beating from my dick.

Can’t wait to prove my imagination right.

Speaking of, my dick has been beat. Like actually. If one didn’t know any better they’d assume it’s on life support, but I’m a freak of nature. Cumming upwards of 16 times in the span of 40ish hours would probably put a weaker man in a hospital bed. Or maybe a psych ward.

But I am not a weak man even if my dick feels raw. I’d still fuck you if you asked.

I’d be curious to know if I’d be able to stave off cumming longer from all the abuse or if I’d be so fucking sensitive that I wouldn’t make it in half an inch.

Probably the latter.

Diary Entry: August 2nd

Being so close to you is killing me. Truly it is.

You’ve sunken your claws so deeply into my very soul and you don’t even realize it. It’s torture. To you, I’m just the new guy, nice dude who gave you a book. But to me? You’re my entire world.

I’ve been told I have the personality of a guard dog. Soft and squishy on the inside, dangerous and fierce on the outside. Which I suppose could be true, but really I think it’s for a different reason. For a human, a dog is one small but very impactful blip in your life. But for the dog? You are it’s life.

Am I comparing myself to a dog right now? Yes I am.

I’ll beg for you to throw me the scraps of your affections until you finally toss me a bone.

Bark.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I’ve been trying my best to give you space. To plan accordingly and in advance. I have our next two interactions simmering on the back burner.

I know that if I go too hard, too fast, you’ll be overwhelmed. That’s the last thing I want. I never want to be the thing that causes you stress, I want to siphon it from you. So, in one week I will set out to help you with a few of your errands and plant a few seeds.

But until then, we have late night snacks and couch chats with Boogie.

I’ve also been doing- you guessed it- more research to do with helpful vitamins and medicines. You’ve responded so well to your SleepyTime tea and since I’ve started making sure your birth control packet is plainly visible in the countertop basket directly beneath that cabinet, you’ve been taking it so well.

I’m so proud of you sweetheart, that’s my girl, look at you taking care of yourself. You’ve done so well in fact, that it’s in my personal opinion that you have earned a very special reward.

Anakin sat on his couch, the live feed of your living room screen mirrored to his Tv. He was watching you cook dinner, he knew you’d be making a stir fry. He’d seen it in your planner, so he’d taken the liberty of ordering himself the same, it’d be here any minute. As would your good friend Sam.

Anakin had originally burned red hot with jealousy at the thought of you inviting a man over to your apartment, that he hadn’t vetted via social media and a quick drop-in. But he was relieved to discover that Sam was just a girl from your book club.

This wasn’t one of his well thought out plans, this was decided upon this morning after you’d returned from book club. So, he was anxious to see if his hunches served him well. Sam seemed like a punctual gal, at least from what he’d seen on social media and the text messages between the two of you from weeks/months before.

Anakin had the wonderful idea to log into your cell service providers website to pull your deleted messages from their data bank. You really should have better passwords.

The thing he was most worried about was his door dasher arriving on time. It was rare that one was too far off on arrival time, but it would be his shit luck and lack of planning that could ruin this little glimpse of you.

The minutes ticked by and he was alerted to the new motion sensors he’d placed near the LED pathway lights on the paved entrance to the apartment building. He quickly switched over to the hallway feed at the front door, seeing that it was his door dasher.

Damn you Trevor. How dare you get there before Sam.

Not to worry, he’d call for the door code and Anakin wouldn’t answer the first time. It wasn’t much but it would buy him a few seconds.

Though it seemed to be that luck was on his side as it often was when it came to you. Sam was so kind, kind enough to let the delivery guy into the building. Which is technically a security concern but Trevor didn’t seem like the type of guy who’d be able to remember a 6 digit door code.

He was too busy staring at your friends ass to pay attention to the numbers she entered anyway.

The footsteps approached your door and his, Anakin waited until he heard Sam knock on your door before he opened his. Trevor stood patiently as Anakin slowly counted out his tip in cash and thankfully you were quick to let your friend inside. After the exchange was complete Anakin gave you a smile and wave.

He could’ve had a heart attack at the response you gave him.

A flirty little finger waggle and smile.

He had to remind himself to breathe and keep his expression a happy-neutral. He’d hate for you to see his blushing cheeks this early on.

“Have a good night girls.” He said as he closed his door and to his surprise you actually answered.

“You too!”

If he weren’t confident that you were a sweet and loving soul, he’d think you were trying to kill him with the siren song of your voice.

Stir fry had never tasted so fucking good.

Diary Entry: July 8th

Grocery day baby, here I come.

I love that you’re so predictable. I love that you’re so fucking cute and always try to strong arm your groceries in one trip. I love that it takes at least two good whacks to the trunk of your shitty old Nissan to properly close it.

It’s cute to watch you struggle with it, the annoyed huffs and angry scowl.

I thought you’d combust on the spot once when your paper grocery bag of flour and sugar ripped open and sent a plume of flour up on your black jeans. The parking lot was very empty and I was very glad because I’d hate for someone to have seen the cursing contest you had with yourself as you picked up your spilled items. Very unladylike you know. But it’s you so I don’t mind, I just like to hear you talk.

It’s almost time. I’ve been sitting in my car for about 10 minutes. Gotta account for the traffic on highway 76. Do you really have to shop all the way out there just because of the Whole Foods? C’mon baby they have the same shit at Kroger.

I’ve been watching your little blue dot on my phone and you’re rounding the corner so I’ll write you later doll.

I love you.

You pulled into the parking lot and sat in your car for a moment. Giving yourself the much need quiet to decompress from your work day and the grocery trip. After you’d checked your messages and scrolled for a moment you decided it was time to head inside before your frozen foods got… not so frozen.

You popped the trunk and fumbled with the faulty latch, your fingers feeling blindly under the metal lip until it finally detached and you were able to open the trunk.

You took a deep breath and scolded yourself for buying the extra few things that could’ve waited till next time. Second trips are for wimps and you weren’t one. So you loaded up your left arm bag by bag until you heard a humored puff of air and the beep of a car locking behind you.

“Need a hand sweetheart?” Anakin grinned, shoving his keys into his front pocket.

He waltzed over and took a few bags off your hands without waiting for a response. It took you aback, not because he hadn’t waited for permission, but because of the way he exuded an odd charm that made you falter.

“Anakin, really it’s alright I can get it.” You said, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion by his kind gesture.

“Mmm no, this seems like a two man mission sweet girl.” He smiled, gathering up a few the last few bags from the trunk and shutting it with one solid push.

“You really don’t have to-“

“I know I don’t have to.” He said tilting his head toward the apartment building to encourage you to walk with him. “I want to.”

“Thank you, that’s… thanks.” You smiled, a light blush creeping across your cheeks.

“Atta girl.” He chuckled, tapping in the door code and holding it open for you despite holding many more bags than you.

Something about the low tone of voice or maybe just the way he looked at you with his icey blue eyes… just sent a chill down your spine. A quick one that was gone in an instant, replaced by a warm glow in the center of your chest.

“Guess chivalry’s not dead.” You joked.

“I’m no knight.” He laughed, “but you’re sure as hell a princess.”

‘Oh that was smooth.’ You thought, trying to ignore the heat at the bottom of your stomach.

What is happening? How on earth can one man be so… everything? Kind, caring, chivalrous and gorgeous to boot.

You felt a wave of embarrassment at the squeaky giggle you let out. He had you tore up from one little comment.

True to the gentleman he seemed to be, he chose not to push it and tease you about your beet red cheeks. He just waited patiently for you as you unlocked your door.

“Do you want me to bring these in for you?” He asked, watching your movements closely.

“Oh that would be great.” You said in relief, leading him into your kitchen.

“Cute little place.” He said, looking around the kitchenette and over to the living room.

He sat down your bags on the counter and started unloading them neatly into rows.

“Oh, you-“

“Mmm mmm.” He shook his head with a smirk, “Just let me help, it’s no big deal.”

You let out a puff of air in an amused sort of amazement and pulled out your little step stool to open up the cabinets. Anakin snickered from behind you as you stepped up and started putting things away.

You shot him a glare over your shoulder and almost said something snarky until you realized he was folding your paper grocery bags in the same way that you always do.

“Huh.” You laughed. “I thought I was the only one who did that.”

“Did what?” He asked, his head cocked to the side.

“Fold the bags.” You said, turning back around to continue placing your things where they belonged.

“Oh,” he chuckled, “I dunno it’s just a habit I guess. Fits better in that stupid slot on the recycling bin this way.”

“Yeah I never really understood why they made them that way? I guess so people don’t just shove other trash in there.” You mused.

“Mmhm probably.” He agreed, stacking them neatly and gathering it in his hands. “Do you want me to take these out back for you?”

“I can do-“ You stopped yourself when Anakin raised his eyebrow and cocked his head to the side with a crooked smirk.

You sighed and gave him a downturned smile. “Yes, I would love for you to take them out back for me.”

“Good girl.” He nodded, clicking his tongue and heading for the door. “See ya princess.”

After he shut the door you let yourself breathe alittle easier, blowing out the air in a short puff through your nose. Maybe even letting a little smile cross your lips before you finished up your task.

You’d be thinking about that low rumble of his voice later. Good girl? Shit.

PART FIVE

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @doblasftcisco @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @styleslytherin @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @lunalitva @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @nico-velvet @rorysbrainrot @hopesworlld @mawhOre @lonaah @t8Izw @guiltycherries

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed

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rishiguro · 7 months

Text

AUTOPHOBIA - DABI

warnings: mentions of murder. non graphic injuries. swearing. 2.5k+ words.

angstober event

dabi walked around the now completely destroyed district, half-heartedly kicking a small rock in front of him. with his hands stuffed in his pocket, he looked oddly calm and collected, the only signs of the past battle being the sweat that glued his hair to his forehead and the dirt stuck on his entire body.

he sighed, gazing at the horizon for a quick second before taking a turn and continuing in a different direction. slowly speeding up, he quickly glanced at every body he came across, only to keep walking as soon as he saw the person’s face.

surely you had to be here somewhere. you were an extremely resilient person and also very capable at keeping yourself alive, no matter what. your entire life you had tried to keep yourself alive, somehow managing to beat the odds, no matter how bad the situation got.

so you definitely were here somewhere.

but where could you be?

dabi rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue, pushing away the uncomfortable thoughts that crept up on him.

you couldn’t be gone. he saw you here somewhere and you were fine, he told himself. and you certainly weren’t dumb enough to fall into the hands of some young hero.

you were better than that.

so you were definitely here somewhere. hiding?

were you seriously trying to pull a prank on him in times like this?

dabi didn’t know for how long he had been walking around, but slowly the surroundings, despite being completely destroyed, became familiar again.

furrowing his eyebrows, he tried to remember the last time he saw you, before his steps sped up again, quickly carrying him through the debris, before he caught a glimpse of a familiar sweater.

before he could even blink he was kneeling down beside a pile stones, stones which once had been a wall, and dragged them off, carelessly throwing them to the side to reveal a familiar body, clothed in the aforementioned dirty sweater.

his eyes quickly examined the state you were in, taking notice of the completely disheveled hair, the ash sticking to your skin and the wounds littered across your body. the blood was dry, leaving behind sharp crusts over the broken pieces of skin.

no, that couldn’t be right. that couldn’t be you. you never got severely injured, not once. you were careful, stealthy.

you never got caught. you never got hurt.

dabi clicked his tongue, leaning back a little. “honestly, you almost had me fooled,” he stated with raised eyebrows. you surely were convincing, barely even moving a muscle. he looked over to the rubble he just removed from your body. “did you plant the debris on top of you? i doubt that young hero was strong enough to cause that” looking back at you, he shook his head. you surely had some weird ideas. “you could’ve killed yourself, you know? and for what? just to scare me?”

you always liked to provoke him just enough to get a rise out of him, no matter how. you enjoyed seeing him all riled up, completely contradicting his usual apathetic self. you liked to coerce him out of his stoic shell, grinning at him whenever you reminded him that he could indeed feel things.

that he felt things for you.

“prove a point?”

he groaned in frustration when he realized that you still weren’t moving a muscle, seemingly very into the whole act.

“stop this shit” he demanded, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “get up”

turning his head to the side, he examined the surroundings. for now you were safe, alone, no one here besides the two of you and some bodies scattered around. injured or dead, dabi couldn’t care less.

he turned back to you, sighing. “we have to leave before some shitty heroes show up to look for survivors” a sinister grin appeared on his face for a short while, remembering the havoc the by now big league of villains had caused earlier. so much destruction and death.

hurting them right at their weak spots.

“i doubt there’s any though”

by now he would’ve expected you to open your eyes, maybe even give him a lecture on how he was unnecessarily cruel. and he would agree with you, that sure, maybe he was, but he also believed that everyone deserved what was coming for them for supporting a system built on shutting out everyone who seemed like they didn’t fit. kicking away everybody that wasn’t perfect enough.

and then you’d get quiet, not wanting to openly agree with him.

“hey, are you even listening” he flicked your forehead, expecting some sort of reaction again, only to be met with nothing. what were you trying to pull here? “it’s not funny. stop playing the damsel in distress”

he clenched his jaw tightly. “seriously”

and still nothing. you laid there, unresponsive, eyes still closed shut, like he wasn’t even here. did you even hear him?

“you’re not funny, you know” he shook his head, mouth forming a slight smile at the idea that just came him. surely that would get you to react. “i could just leave you here when the heroes show up. maybe that would teach you a lesson”

you were infamous for escaping the heroes every single time, even back when they first caught eyes on you. nobody really knew how, but somehow, even during your days as a lowly criminal, they were lucky to even get some cctv footage of you.

they surely would be stunned finding you here. a free trophy to be taken, an infamous villain served on a silver platter.

that would certainly make for some great headlines in the news.

“hey,“ dabi called out again, reaching out to shake you by your shoulder. your skin was cold, colder than he expected. a frown etched itself onto his face.

he shook his head. no, it were probably his hands that were still a little heated, not having fully cooled down yet. that must be it.

you’ve never been cold like that.

he groaned in annoyance, balling his hands into a fist. “the gig is up, get up now,“ he demanded sternly.

and still, nothing.

“seriously, it’s not fucking funny anymore”

he furrowed his eyebrows, cursing under his breath. there was no way you could be that committed to the act. what could even be worth it? you never had it out for him like that before, no matter what happened.

gnawing on his lower lip, a few images flashed in his mind.

of him, fighting some hero that he didn’t know the name of, dodging his attacks while cursing him out loudly, shooting flames at him.

a familiar, yet distant voice calling out to him, which he promptly ignored, too busy with the situation at hand.

a loud bang, immediately being followed by something — someone — throwing themselves at him.

his body being flung away, looking at your form in shock as you were hit by something.

a quirk.

“are you trying to teach me a lesson or something,“ dabi asked, rolling his eyes at you again. he shrugged. “it’s not my fault you took that blow earlier”

you threw yourself at him after all. “besides, it wasn’t that hard, so get over yourself”

and dabi retaliated. just a few moments later he hit whoever it was that had hit you, leaving behind a charred body.

“the lousy hero is dead anyways. we’re even”

and yet you still wouldn’t move.

were you really trying to teach him a lesson? right now?

dabi would rather have you give him an hour long lecture about awareness as soon as you were back in the hideout than be stuck here right now, on his knees next to your still and hurt body.

“are you deaf? i said get up,“ he raised his voice at you now, reaching out to shake you again. “hey”

the villain grew impatient, clearly bothered by your lack of response.

didn’t you hear him?

“come on, move,“ he barked again, feeling the anger rise in him. were you seriously just ignoring him like that? was your lesson so much more important than letting him know that you were okay?

were you really that cruel to him?

didn’t you love him? you said you did.

“don’t act like you can’t hear me,” he snarled angrily.

get up. wake up. open your fucking eyes.

“hey”

do anything but don’t just lay here like you were dead.

“stop,“ he whispered, digging his own nails into his palm.

do anything but what you were doing now. please.

you couldn’t do this to him.

“come on”

why couldn’t you just listen to him?

“hey,” he tried again, his voice a little softer. despite that, you still didn’t show any signs, leaving him to grow more frustrated again. “i said get up,” he snapped.

nothing.

“fuck, listen to me,“ he demanded, exhaling a shaky breath. “hey!”

nothing.

“get the fuck up”

nothing.

“open your fucking eyes,” he demanded loudly again, practically digging his fingers into your skin, leaving behind red marks. “i said open them!”

and yet you didn’t.

nothing.

“fuck this,“ he cursed out, letting go of you and rising to his feet.

“i’m going to fucking leave you here, what then, huh?” he spat, clenching his teeth together tightly. he flexed and relaxed his hands repeatedly at his side. “what are you going to fucking do then?”

come on. move.

“going to let one of these dumb heroes find you,” dabi continued, by now practically hissing at your unresponsive self. he turned away for a second before looking down at you again. “and who knows what they’re going to do to you then”

capture you. interrogate you. lock you up, never to see the light of day again.

come on, wake up.

would you really allow him to talk to you like that? so dismissive, so cruel?

and yet you laid still.

“hey! i’m talking to you!”

you were never that quiet. you never ignored him.

he fell onto his knees again, reaching out to shake your body one last time. “don’t do this, don’t fucking do this,” he clenched out between his teeth, hunching forward and putting his forehead on your arm.

he took a deep breath before straightening his back. “alright, fine,” he muttered defeated, “you won, doll. you scared the shit out of me, okay? now get the fuck up so we can fucking leave”

he pulled your body into his lap, fingers running over the wounds on your arms.

“get up!” nothing. “i said get up!”

“fuck, come on, stop playing, this isn’t funny,“ dabi commanded, a slight tremble in his voice.

with trembling fingers he reached out, pressing them slightly onto your neck.

“give me something, anything,“ he begged, “please, you can’t do this to me, please”

he felt a huge weight lifting off his shoulders when his fingers finally felt the blood pumping through your veins faintly.

you were still here.

but why weren’t you waking up?

“open your eyes,” he gulped again, “i said open your fucking eyes”

another flash of images appeared in his mind.

your body flying a few meters after being hit. you, hissing and groaning in pain as you tried to lift yourself onto your feet again. you, clutching your side with a pained expression, locking eyes with him for a second before you turned around and assumed a fighting stance.

that couldn’t be true.

you were fine.

you had to be fine.

you were always fine.

“come on, i know you can hear me,“ he whispered to you, begging. you why couldn’t you just answer him?

you were still here, you were alive, weren’t you?

he shook your shoulders again slightly, his own hands trembling. “wake up. i said wake up!”

his voice broke as he continued to chant at you. “i’m telling you to wake up, damn it!”

he hunched over your body again, arms clumsily pressing you close to his chest, rocking your bodies back and forth.

“please,” he whispered with a broken voice, “please, doll. i’m sorry for yelling at you, okay? now can you please open your eyes? for me, yeah?”

nothing.

dabi swallowed harshly, blinking rapidly as he continued rocking the two of you, whispering to you.

nothing.

he hates this. he hated how you were so still and unresponsive, he hated how he was shaking whenever he brushed his hand over your arm, trying to warm you cool skin, he hated how his entire body was trembling.

he hated how he felt so weak, so useless, like a small child, unable to stand up for himself and unable to help the people close to him.

unable to help the person he loved.

nothing.

“you can’t do this,” he whined angrily, miserably failing in suppressing the rage in his voice, “don’t fucking do this!”

you couldn’t leave him. you promised not to leave him.

“don’t leave me, come on”

he clutched you even closer to him, his own heart beating rapidly against his chest.

“i know you can hear me,” dabi claimed shakily, forcing a smile on his fear-stricken face as he caressed your cheek with two fingers. “i’ll forgive you for this shit, i promise i won’t be mad, just wake up now, yeah?”

nothing.

“go ahead, open your eyes,” he encouraged you again, his voice uncharacteristically high-pitched.

nothing.

why didn’t you listen to him? you said you’d listen to him.

“i said open your eyes!” dabi demanded loudly, immediately clutching you close again.

he felt his chest constrict as he leaned over you, pressing a kiss on your ashen forehead.

nothing.

you couldn’t leave him. not here, not like this.

“you can’t do this to me!” he cried out, “please, please, please”

while softly running his fingers over your face he dug his teeth into his lower lip again, breaking the skin on it in the process. “stay with me, yeah? stay right here with me! you have to wake up!”

nothing.

“don’t leave me please,” the villain begged, pressing another kiss on your face. “i need you, doll”

nothing.

“you can’t go,” he whimpered, his body and breath trembling, “don’t go where i can’t follow, please”

you couldn’t leave, not like this.

he still wanted you, he still needed you, he loved you.

you were all he had left, all he loved, all that kept him breathing every day.

“i love you, please,” he confessed, feeling his eyes burn again, “please wake up”

you couldn’t just leave him like that, you couldn’t.

and yet you didn’t move an inch.

“okay, okay, i get it. not here. that’s okay,” he whispered, not even sure if you were able to hear him at this point. but he knew that he had to get you away from here, quickly. it couldn’t be much longer till the police would arrive with rescue heroes in tow. you had to leave. “i’m going to carry you, okay?” carefully he reached underneath your knees with one arm, pulling them close to himself, before grabbing you with his other arm.

he pulled you close, continuing to whisper to you. “we’ll be back at the hideout in no time and then you can open your eyes yeah? you’ll be safe and then you can wake up”

he had a weak smile on his face, his eyes burning as he looked at your frail face. you looked so pale, so unnaturally pale. “that sounds like a good deal, yeah?”

nothing.

“okay” he muttered, before turning to you again. “up we go, yeah?” he warned, lifting you into his arms and standing up shortly after.

“i’m going to hold you tight, yeah? just hang in there with me, doll. i got you”

and with you safely secured in his arms he ran off, disappearing behind broken buildings.

reblogs and comments are appreciated !

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lazyjellyfish300 · 4 months

Text

Still and All🌿

Miguel O'Hara x Fem reader

Gif credits to @miguelo-hara

Synopsis: You have a lifelong sexually transmitted infection. You've learned to live with it, but you started dating Miguel, and you need to tell him at some point. Word count: 4.7k

TW: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. STIS: HERPES SIMPLEX VIRUS 2, TALK OF UNPROTECTED SEX, RELIGIOUS TRAUMA IMPLIED, INSECURITY, SLUT SHAMING, SELF DEPRECATING THOUGHTS, ANGST, STIGMATIZED THINKING ABOUT STIS, TALK OF SAFE SEX INCLUDING CONDOM USE, SMUT AT THE END( EVENTUAL UNPROTECTED P IN V, SPANKING, ORAL F RECEIVING), IN SHORT THE SUBJECT MATTER IS RATHER HEAVY AND IF ANY OF THE ABOVE IS SENSITIVE FOR YOU, TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF AND SKIP THIS ONE. ❤️

A/N: I DREW ON PERSONAL EXPERIENCE TO WRITE THIS. I HOPE WE CAN EVENTUALLY COMMUNICATE OPENLY ABOUT SEXUALLY TRANSMITTED INFECTIONS AND DISEASES WITH NO STIGMAS ATTACHED. BE SAFE AND HEALTHY. I GOT MY INFORMATION FROM THESE SOURCES, ALTHOUGH THE INFO IS IN LINE WITH THE SOURCES, PLEASE DO NOT USE THIS WRITING PIECE AS A SUBSTITUTE FOR MEDICAL ADVICE. TALK TO YOUR PHYSICIAN.

World Health Organization

Hopkins Medicine

Herpes.org NZ

-----

You weren't sure how you'd tell him. Or exactly when you'd tell him. You had told others before, but this time was different. You really really liked him. If you had the ability to envision someone you wanted to do the rest of your life with, he would be it.

And what you needed to tell him could cause you to lose him forever. And that news was that you had a sexually transmitted infection. Herpes Simplex Virus 2. Or HSV-2 for short. And you lived with it for years. It wasn't a big deal, really. But it took you a long time to get to this point.

You wondered if your strict religious upbringing and being repressed for most, if not all of your adolescence and young adulthood were contributing factors. It all came to a head when you were finally an adult and could move out of your parents' hypervigilant gaze. You started feeling excited at this new found freedom but went a little crazy with it. You started dating casually. It was exhilarating and felt empowering to be desired. To know that men wanted you, craved you, and desired to know the deepest, most intimate parts of your body.

So, you had some fun.

It was clear most of the guys you dated weren't as educated on safe sex either, or the passion of moment just threw those safety precautions out the window. It was careless, yes. And absolutely risky. But you didn't know how to ask for these things and weren't taught how to. You were afraid to speak up, that they wouldn't want you anymore if you put your foot down.

Several months into your promiscuity, you had a sinking feeling in your stomach you should go get tested when you felt an odd tingly sensation in your genital region. You prayed that nothing was wrong.

The doctor could not have called you at a worse time. Right in the middle of your shift. You stood in the stairwell of your job, waiting for a sigh of relief or your entire world to come shattering down.

"Your blood work looks good, except..."

There it is. Except.

"You tested positive for HSV-2. You have genital herpes. It is a very treatable condition, but there is no cure."

Just like that, a life sentence. You were super young when this happened, so to you this was earth shattering. Your mind didn't even pick up the rest of what he was telling you as you hung up your phone.

The world outside seemed to grow fuzzy as though someone bludgeoned you in the back of your head. Colors rapidly disappearing, causing your retinas to only see gray. Claws of despair sinking into you. Not able to speak, not able to think, gasping for air while the tide crashed and beat against you again and again, keeping you under, forcing you to drown.

Your mind did what it does best and became your worst enemy.

"Nobody's going to want someone like me."

"I'm dirty."

"If you weren't such a careless slut maybe this wouldn't have happened to you."

"Quit crying, this is just a consequence of your actions, deal with it."

"You're being punished. Maybe if you weren't so weak and didn't lose your faith, God wouldn't have had to teach you this lesson. You wouldn't need to learn it if you were actually good."

"Typical for a pathetic girl like you with daddy issues who can't go a month without a guy telling her she's pretty. See what happens when all you're good at is spreading your legs?"

Your internal monologue flogged you like this for months. You had to take some time to just cry, just lay in your bed and wait, praying to the God that abandoned you. The winds and rains of self-doubt and misery mercilessly beating against you while you hid in a hole, waiting for the storm to pass. A numb expression on your face as you watched everyone outside live their lives while you just stayed frozen in place with a dark cloud over your head.

Just holding on for better days that hopefully laid ahead, hoping you'd make peace with this permanent new part of you that seemed to latch itself onto you overnight.

And... slowly, you did.

You started taking antiviral medication. And it improved your symptoms drastically. Having an outbreak could be quite painful and uncomfortable. Gritting your teeth and your eyes squinting in pain when you had to use the restroom with open sores, the sting causing you to suck air between your teeth.

Once you got the hang of taking your medication on a daily basis, any outbreaks you experienced were only a couple of times a year, usually popping up only if you were under extreme stress or if you had missed a few doses.

Outside of your physical health, dating was tricky. You pretty much began to avoid it altogether, despite the raging loneliness within you. You just wanted to know what it was like to recieve the love you were so ready to give someone else. To have someone hold you at night and stand across from you at the altar as you pledged to spend your lives together, a conscious decision to not let this condition stand in the way of you two being together.

Most people were understanding, but eventually they'd stop talking to you. The unmistakable shift in your dynamic as soon as you told them when things started to get good. You respected their right to not put themselves at risk while you simultaneously grieved for just once, to hear someone say,

"It doesn't bother me that you have this. I still want to be with you. Let's figure this out together."

You came across someone who also had it. But the relationship never grew into something serious for other reasons.

You took a long break. Just to find yourself and be comfortable with being your own person. Not letting yourself settle for less than what you deserved.

Eventually you found Miguel, who was a welcome change to all of that. After college, you were Spider Society's fresh new accountant, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst your STEM and Spider-Colleagues.

Miguel noticed you while he was walking to the break room for another pot of coffee. This wasn't even the usual way he'd go, but after a casual glance in your direction at the way your eyes were narrowed at your computer screen, lips slightly parted in concentration, he switched his route to include an accidental brush past your open office door from then on, intrigued with this new face around the place.

You noticed him the second time he passed by, and you had to do a double take. He was gorgeous. Strong cheekbones that led into a chiseled jaw and wide neck. Warm umber skin surrounding scarlet seas of his eyes and full, pouting lips. A majestic, tall frame that embodied strength in every sense of the word. The evidence lay in the fit muscles that crowned his entire body from his arms, to his legs and whew, that stunning back.

The third time, you noticed him approaching and gave a little nod of your head with a closed lip smile, the generic, passively kind, but also slightly aloof way that acquaintances passing would give to each other. He returned the gesture, and you felt your stomach do a little flip as he walked away.

Next time, you actually flashed a smile, and he raised an eyebrow but gave that lukewarm expression of acknowledgement again. Not quite a smile yet.

Oh, but the first time he smiled at you. That sealed the deal. At first, you felt that maybe you were in danger of just being in lust with the guy, his physical features the first thing to pull you in. But when he flashed that dazzling smile at you, you knew immediately that your heart was in actual danger of being absolutely wrecked by this guy at some point. The bottom row of his teeth were ever so slightly crooked. His bushy, sculpted brows so expressive despite the stoic disposition that always painted his face. He was sooo...so...

Perfect.

His laugh and his voice was a whole other issue entirely. His voice wasn't exactly deep, but it was gentle. A sweet caress against your eardrums. It dripped like honey. That small, whispery chuckle of his he'd let out when you finally made small talk with him had you wanting to bash your head against the wall.

"Top o' the mowwwrning to ya! " you said in a silly voice as he walked up to your desk.

He cracked a smile. "What's got you in such a big mood this morning?"

You smiled like you were keeping a secret. "Oh, just the fact that it's Friday, it's payday, I have a 32 ounce iced coffee, and I have theeee best job in the world!" (A little bit sarcastic about the last item you listed)

Miguel scoffed. "Well, I'm glad someone is happy around here. I can't seem to get any peace and quiet or work done with all these shocking anomalies we've been dealing with lately."

"You wanna know a secret?" You ask, raising an eyebrow, feigning mystery.

Miguel rolls his eyes but is unable to suppress a smile. "Dime." (Tell me)

"The bench at the bottom of the hill in the courtyard is actually the best place to go to get some work done. But don't tell anyone else about it because that's where I go on my lunch breaks."

Miguel's eyebrows raise. "Is that so? Well, you don't mind if I were to try it out this afternoon?"

You grin and swish your iced coffee. "Nope! All yours. You gotta text me about it and let me know how it went, though. Tell me I'm right."

Miguel scoffed. "You're on. But, I don't have your number."

Your cheeks burn a little bit but you scribble your number down on a sticky note and hand it to him. He shoots one more stunning smile at you and walks away.

Later, he did text you that you were absolutely right. Peace and quiet for a whole two hours outside managed to get him to complete 3 weeks worth of paperwork he was behind on. You felt like you were on top of the world, but it escalated to a whole new level when you were straddling his lap in the backseat of his car after your first date just a week later, making out with him in a quiet parking lot at the head of the trail where you two went on a hike together.

You were getting lost in how tasty his lips were, soft and full with just a hint of his sweat from the exertion. You feel the heat of the moment about to overtake you when he starts to grind his hips, feeling him starting to harden underneath you. Oh God, the way this man moaned was purely sinful.

You groan and whimper, realizing you can't take this further, no matter how much your pussy is begging for him right now. You pull away with a teasing smile.

"Let's wait..." you say softly, passion still dotting your voice.

Miguel shows the slightest bit of disappointment but nods in agreement. "Of course." He sighs and gives your thighs a squeeze of reassurance.

"I'm starving." you say, tracing his neck with a finger.

He smiles. "Well, let's go fix that right now."

You two shared grilled cheese sandwiches from your favorite food truck and as you walked into your apartment, you admitted to yourself that you were falling.

On your second date, you casually mentioned a little white lie that you were on your period to hopefully keep sex off the table so you wouldn't have to have the tough conversation.

"Oh, are you sure you're feeling up to getting dinner right now?" Miguel asked as you walked side by side towards the small Mexican restaurant.

"Mhmm!" You replied cheerfully.

Miguel gave you a skeptical look but followed you into the restaurant.

It was one of those express food places where you ordered your food at the counter. When the cashier asked if you were eating here or taking it to go, Miguel abruptly interrupted,

"We'll take it to go."

You looked up at him, puzzled.

"You're not feeling well, we should let you rest at home where you're comfortable." He replied, taking your hand in his.

"Oh, right!" You smiled and nodded enthusiastically. You totally forgot you were lying. Your heart starting to pump quicker in anticipation when you realize he's coming over. Give me the strength, please, God.

----

After you two went back to your apartment and ate, you talked for nearly two hours about literally everything. Your childhoods, your complicated relationship with family, favorite foods, places you've always wanted to travel to, politics, even.

As soon as you cuddled next to him on your couch and got a whiff of his cologne, soon your tongue was in his mouth and he was on top of you, kissing you with so much tenderness you were actually contemplating marriage in your head.

He sighed a little into your mouth, letting his hands wander down to your ass. Your eyes went wide, but you continued anyway, continuing to lock yourself against his yummy lips.

Miguel groaned and moved to kissing your neck, your vision flashing as your eyes fluttered at the tempting sensation he was giving you.

"Not going to lie...I want you right now..." He whispered against your skin.

You whimpered. "I want you too....so much....but I'm on my period, remember?" Hoping he'd buy it.

He inhaled sharply at your words, increasing the intensity of his kisses.

"I don't mind..."

Dammit.

You feel your eyes water and before you know it, you're crying. Miguel pulls back, concern in his eyes.

"Did I hurt you...? What's wrong...?"

He presses the back of his hand against your cheek as one tear after another and another streaks off to the side of your eyes and into your hair, gravity causing them to run downwards as you're still pinned underneath him.

"I can't..." You choke out. "It's just something I need to tell you."

Miguel swallows and allows you to sit up. His eyes remain locked on you and scan your face for any inkling of what you're about to tell him.

Just drop the bomb now.

"I'm not actually on my period right now. I can't have sex with you right away because I need to tell you that I have an STI. It's Herpes Simplex Virus 2. I'll have it the rest of my life. I get occasional outbreaks in my genital region due to stress or if I miss a couple doses of my antiviral medication. I've had it for over 5 years now and it's quite manageable."

Miguel nods, his face in an unreadable expression. His eyes leave yours for just a moment as though he's starting to think quietly in his head.

You exhale shakily, the worst part is over, but continue with the facts which you've rehearsed many times.

"It's very common. As many as 1 in 6 adults may have it in the US, but many who do show no symptoms, as a result they might not even know they have it. But, I understand that you need to do what's best for you and come to your own conclusion about what I just told you. So if you choose to not continue seeing me, I understand." At the last sentence, your voice cracks a bit. "I like you a lot. I'm sorry for getting emotional..."

Miguel sits in silence for just a moment longer and he puts a hand on your thigh. "Thank you for telling me.... To be honest, I was expecting worse news than that. Like, you have a secret boyfriend I don't know about or... " He gives a little scoff, then looks at you, not moving his hand from your thigh.

"It's not the best of news, but it's not the end of the world. And it certainly doesn't define who you are. You're still you, and I've enjoyed getting to know you quite a bit and find myself liking you a lot too..." Miguel swallows. It's been a while since he's been this expressive with his feelings, but he feels he can venture a little outside his comfort zone since you're putting yourself in such a vulnerable position right now.

"I don't know much about Herpes myself. I'd like to educate myself more on this and then we can talk more about what we can do from here. Is that okay with you?" He asks, his voice gentle.

You nod, eagerly. The weight of the world had just been taken off your chest, you could breathe at last. He asks you a few more questions, like how often you take your medication, when you got diagnosed, how you manage your condition and so on. You answer honestly and firmly, pausing to gauge his reaction and make sure you explained yourself clearly enough. After talking for another hour or so, it's about 10:30 pm. You've definitely reached quitting time, and you're fighting to keep your eyes open.

You two share a long embrace before he walks out the door.

"Thank you, for a wonderful night and for dinner and being so understanding. I haven't always had the best response when telling people about this." You say into his chest, trying to hold him long enough his scent will stick to you after he leaves.

He smiles, still holding you. "You're welcome. Thank you for being honest and vulnerable with me. I'm kind of amazed at how much we have in common. I'll talk to one of my medical contacts some more about this. Don't be worried if I don't text you right away tomorrow. Then, we can talk more about what we'll do."

You nod, and after giving him one last kiss on the cheek, he leaves out the door and into the night. You watch him walk down the stairs and close your door with a soft click.

----

The next day, Miguel's at HQ speaking with one of the physicians in the lab.

"What are the different types of Herpes Viruses?"

The doctor leans against the counter and answers,

"There are two types of herpes simplex virus: HSV 1 and HSV 2. HSV 1 commonly causes oral herpes, or cold sores. It can show up as an upper respiratory tract infection during early childhood, whereas HSV 2 is the cause of most cases of genital herpes. However, it is possible for HSV 1 to cause genital herpes and HSV 2 to cause oral herpes."

Miguel nods and asks more questions.

"I ask because I started seeing a woman recently who has HSV-2. To my knowledge, I don't have it. What would that mean for us in terms of intimacy?"

The doctor nods and she answers,

"HSV-2 is mainly transmitted during sex through contact with genital or anal surfaces, skin, sores or fluids of someone infected with the virus. It can still be transmitted in the absence of symptoms. If you plan on being intimate, I recommend the use of condoms to decrease the risk of transmission. If your partner is also taking antiviral medication to suppress outbreaks, that helps decrease the risk of transmission as well. But, if your partner is having an outbreak or symptoms, I recommend abstaining from sexual activity until they resolve."

Miguel nods and takes in all the information the doctor is providing him, thanking her for her time.

He calls you, and you answer eagerly.

"Miguel?"

"Hey," he answers. You can hear the soft smile in his voice as he greets you. "Want to meet at Central Park in an hour? I figured we could go for a walk and talk in person. You don't need to be worried. I want to see where this goes with us, and now that the doctor gave me more information, I want to talk about it with you."

You feel your chest rise with hope. "Yeah, absolutely. I'll meet you in an hour. Thank you for taking the time to learn about it. You have no idea how much that means."

Miguel smiles. "Of course. You've been so patient with me, it's the least I could do. See you soon, get there safe."

"See you soon!" You hang up, and go get dressed.

---

The rain has started to come down a little bit, sprinkling and peppering the pavement in little dots, the earthy petrichor permeating the late spring air as the sky melts into a faded grey overcast with a thick layer of cloud cover.

You tuck your hair in your jacket hood, starting to jog a little faster to escape the falling raindrops as you approach Central Park. You see Miguel sitting on a park bench, across from the pond, totally unphased by the precipitation. You stroll awkwardly up to him, not sure where to look as you get closer to him. He hears footfalls approaching and turns, searching for the source and finally notices you, becoming slightly amused at your displeased reaction to the rain.

"Sorry, perhaps meeting in the park wasn't the best idea considering the weather," he says as he stands up, causing you to move your chin up a little to meet his tall gaze.

"Yeah, perhaps not." You huff.

Miguel grins and gestures towards some trees that will provide a little bit of shelter from the budding rain shower and you follow him there.

He leans against the tree, hands on his hips. "I talked to the physician. All in all, it sounds like a very manageable condition, which you've already covered with me. You're already taking antiviral medication daily." He clears his throat.

"But, when it comes to sex, we should use condoms. At least in the beginning to decrease the chances of transmission, and make sure you're feeling well and have no symptoms before we do anything. You've had the condition for long enough, I trust you that you're aware of your body and can pick up on whether or not you're about to have an outbreak. Do you have any thoughts on that?" He looks at you.

You nod. "I think that's completely reasonable. Thank you for trusting me, really." You lay your hand on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.

He gives you a small side smile in return. "Just so you know, I'm not expecting sex right away. I just bring it up now, in case we find ourselves in a heated entanglement like we did last night..." He kisses your hand. "We'll have already covered it and know what to expect."

You nod. "I definitely want to, at some point. But I'm in no rush either. We'll wait for the moment to present itself I guess?"

He grins and stands up from where he was leaning, letting both of his hands cup your face now, nothing but soft affection for you lining his pupils.

"Sounds perfect to me."

You two traded warm, lingering kisses as the rain poured a little harder around you, saturating the city of Nueva York, turning the trees in Central Park a vibrant, otherworldly green, the thunder shaking the sky in a deep rumble.

----

2 years later on a cruise ship gently coasting the Caribbean

The blinds were drawn around your ocean suite, giggles escaped you and Miguel as you gave him a playful shove back onto your freshly made bed after dinner, courtesy of housekeeping, both of you about four wine glasses deep.

His breath hitches as he watches you slowly hike your strapless maxi dress down your body, biting his lip when your tits bob out of your dress, practically drooling as though it's the first time he's laid eyes on you when the fabric slinks off the rest of your body, kissing your curves on the way down until it's laying in a heap on the floor, leaving you naked in front of him.

"Ven aquí..." (Come here) He whispers, pulling you closer as he sits on the bed, the noticeable glint of a silver wedding band with a small diamond embedded in the middle on his left hand.

He leans down and licks hungrily between the folds of your pussy. You sigh and close your eyes, using those beautiful broad shoulders of his to steady yourself, the twinkle of your own sizeable rock on the wedding band on your left hand catching in the dim light of the honeymoon suite.

The sound of his licks get more sloppy and wet as you drip more and more into his mouth, his tongue fueling the fire. "God, baby...."he groans, landing a sharp spank on your ass.

You gasp and buck your hips into him, pleasure sizzling in your core when your clit brushes against his nose. He pulls you in tighter to his face and you lift your leg, putting one foot on the bed to spread your pussy wider for him.

He scoots back instead, pulling you on top of him and directly over his beautiful face, his chest hairs poking out of his half buttoned dress shirt. He has one hand gripping your thigh and one squeezing your ass cheek as he continues to eat you out. "Lower, baby.." he whispers, tugging you downwards so you're sitting right on his face.

You feel your cheeks burn as you look at yourself in the mirror hanging above your bed on the wall. Completely naked and legs spread, riding your new husband's gorgeous face, his powerful large body pinned underneath yours.

One orgasm later, you're panting and sweating on the bed, looking up at the ceiling when Miguel gets back on top of you, planting a sweet kiss into both ankles as he brings them to rest on his shoulders. You look at him through half-lidded eyes that rake over his majestic form, his arm muscles rippling slightly as he gets into position.

He brings his cock to the entrance of your pussy, your ankles still perched on his shoulders, swirling the tip around the outside to collect any remaining arousal as lube. Both of you gasp at the same time as he slowly eases his cock inside you. That first thrust sends you straight to heaven and you release a satisfied moan. He sets a steady pace, fucking you in splendid, deep, strokes.

Your lips fall open and he traces them with his thumb while still rutting into you. You close your mouth around it, sucking and swirling your tongue around his thumb while you gaze into his eyes.

His own mouth falls open a little, lust blown pupils of his showing he's dangerously close to cumming as he lets out a deep moan.

"Fffuck, baby, you look so beautiful like this. Sucking my finger while your pussy takes my cock..." He purrs.

You let out a filthy moan in response, still sucking his finger while he drives his cock deep into your pussy with both ankles on his shoulders. He leans down to kiss you, letting your ankles fall to the side and back onto the bed, opening your thighs a little bit as you welcome his body in missionary. He tilts his head to the side a little bit, scarlet irises pulling you in, then kisses you gently as his body continues to make love to yours.

You savor the kiss, letting your tongue explore his mouth, the taste of your pussy lingering in it and bringing both hands to tangle themselves in his hair. He pulls away for just a moment for air, and you coo softly to him

"I love you so much..."

He exhales slowly, slowing down his strokes just a little but making them more deep and dramatic, causing a twinge of pain and pleasure to course throughout your veins.

"I love you, my wife. Forever."

You kept fucking deep into the night, tropical colors painting the sky as the sun dipped below the horizon, nothing but ocean air and the thrill of adventure awaiting at your destination.

Your diagnosis and any other obstacles remained long forgotten as you and Miguel entered forever with hands intertwined, still and all.

-----

#miguel o'hara #miguel atsv #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o hara angst #miguel ohara angst #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader

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anqelically · 10 months

Note

hi ava!! congrats on 300!! ♡

i love your event sm, i am a sucker for angst! how abt dazai + dialogue 8 :,)

shizukana wakare | osamu dazai x gn!reader

word count: 0.6k

content: no manga spoilers, angst

navi | bsd masterlist | event (closed)

you never completely understood him.

osamu dazai— an enigma of a man that always kept you on your toes. it was the mysterious air around him that lured you in. his coffee-brown eyes, lacking any semblance of light, guided you through the darkness. and though he led you through it, you knew you’d never escape.

you grew up in the shadows of yokohama. you stole food to get by and manipulated others to get what you needed. being alone starting from such a young age forced you to learn how to fend for yourself, even if the methods weren’t ethical.

no one else was there to teach you otherwise.

and even when you were recruited— no, forced into the port mafia, almost no one tried to change your ways. almost. there was someone. he was older than you by a couple of years and already in his 20s.

sakunosuke oda did not kill no matter the circumstances. he was a low-ranking port mafia member who was handed trifling missions. for someone in the port mafia, he was quite strange. and for an organization brimming with odd individuals, that was saying something.

he did not belong in the organization, that was easy to understand. oda deserved much more than to be in the port mafia.

oda was caring towards you. when he started to take care of a couple of children after the dragon head conflict, you were sure that it was just in his nature to try to take care of people like you, orphans who had no one else to guide them.

you knew he tried, that man. yet your soul, wallowing in despair, could only find solace in another who was in the same state. that person was dazai, the boy you met through oda.

he may bleed red, but the crimes he committed are enough to turn the blood running through his veins black. and maybe because the two of you were so similar, you couldn’t let dazai go. out of all the people you knew, he understood you the best.

and that’s why you couldn’t bear to see him leave.

you knew that growing attached to someone like him was a dangerous game, yet you couldn’t help yourself. loving dazai was a gamble of its own, and you could feel everything you bet on slipping away.

something else happened that day, the day oda died. you were hurt too, yet you knew there was another conflict within dazai’s mind. and whatever it was, you were scared of its effect. because now, a few days later, dazai was going to leave you too. you asked him to stay, but you knew all too well that it wasn’t going to happen.

“you can’t…” you held the fabric of his black jacket tightly. “i can’t live without you. please, please don’t leave me behind too.”

the alleyway was quiet, and you felt like the walls were beginning to close in. the air was slowly suffocating you as you awaited for dazai’s response, hands still tight on his jacket.

“i can’t stay in the port mafia anymore,” dazai said, his words cutting through the tension. his tone was colder than usual, you noticed. “i can’t stay, and you can’t leave. this… whatever this is, it isn’t meant to be.”

his words, short in numbers, were anything but lies. he was right, of course he was. you couldn’t imagine a life outside of the one you have now, and that’s why you couldn’t leave with him. a life of crime is all that you know, so you wouldn’t change even if you did leave with dazai.

“but even a cold-blooded killer can change,” you can hear oda’s voice ring in your ears.

you thought, ‘but not me’

your shoulders slumped in defeat, arms dropping to your sides. there was no point in holding dazai back anymore, not when he was willing to try to change. even if there was something special between the two of you, you weren’t enough for him to stay. the moments you spent in each other’s arms, or the late nights out in the city would never be enough.

you were ready to leave when dazai suddenly wrapped his long coat around your shoulders. you touched the fabric, looking up at him in surprise. although no words were spoken, you knew what he was telling you— a part of him will continue to be with you, even if he does leave.

and in the following moments as dazai walked away, the sky cried with you.

note: the title is supposed to mean silent goodbye, so if it’s wrong then uhh blame the translating website 🙈 but rylie thank you so much for requesting !! <3 i can’t use my laptop anymore sadly :(( so the uploading process is even more annoying compared to before </3

reblogs are appreciated + join my taglist !

@seisitive @enomane @er0ses @spenzitz @wineaddict2904 @aeshiiteiru @chuuyrr @ashthemadwriter @sanjis-fav-w1fe @bejeweledgirl @ma3mae @piichuu @dreamlessimp @4nthonyyliving @ruru-kiss

#୨୧ [ writing ]#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #dazai x you #osamu dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #osamu dazai #dazai #dazai angst #bsd drabbles #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd angst

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bonefall · 23 days

Note

tbh it makes no sense that mapleshade would ally with tigerstar considering the way he canonically wanted to murder stormpaw and featherpaw for being halfclan kits…you’d think she’d want to beat his ass for pulling that shit

Honestly I feel like Mapleshade's motivations as they follow through the books always feel wonky. She doesn't feel like a character with a consistent narrative, her personality and actions seem to wobble all over the place.

Unfortunately the most consistent trait about her, across multiple books, is that she is a Girl Villain. She makes a lot of comments about her looks, motherly pain, and romance. Her strengths are also not established, she's an active general-type in OotS, a bloodline curse in Crookedstar's Promise, a satan-like bad influence in Tigerclaw's Fury, and a minion desiring a young molly's pretty body in TBC.

I like the Mapleshade's Vengeance story and characterization of her above all the others, but I do feel like it's not super consistent with ANY of her alliances going forward in the timeline.

Her pain is that she lost her children, so it feels kind of odd she's tormenting Crookedkit. I can accept it as part of her grudge against Appledusk, though.

After all, the idea she's a vengeful spirit haunting his bloodline is super fun as a gimmick. Like she's blinded to the morality of it all at this point, dogged in her goals.

But still, it seems downright unfitting she'd be whispering into Tigerclaw's ear as a demon if that's the case. You'd think she would only start to get close when she realizes Tiger can be used to torment an Applekin (which storm and feather are through their mother's side) directly, not playing the long game.

Plus, mixed blood was the reason her kittens died. With the backstory they gave her, you'd think it would set her off more. Even if they are Applekin.

But a lot of the time they don't seem to know what to do with her. Like when she attacked Sandstorm, of all people, for having a husband. Felt absolutely random.

#mapleshade #warrior cats analysis

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brnesblogposts · 2 months

Text

lost dogs and chance meetings

pairing chris evans x reader

reblogs appreciated if you liked it :)

———————-

Your family had decided to take a trip to New York, you had been a few times before as your parents had friends there. At the time you were young and blissfully unaware of the celebrity world, it was different now, people were always running into celebrities on the streets in the US. New York is home to many, as well as a hotstpot for work in the industry. You didn’t luck out however, but your trip in the US wasn’t over just yet.

Your family had decided to take a trip up to Massachusetts, to stay in a log cabin for the weekend. Being the huge Chris Evans fan that you are you insisted they stop to look around Boston, not only because you loved visiting new places, but a small part of you hoped you’d run into the Bostonian man himself.

You stopped at a restaurant for some lunch after driving up to Boston, Not too long of a drive but enough to make you hungry, you felt a bit carsick after the journey so announced you were just popping out for some air, “Won’t be too long” you stated. you decided on a short walk to calm down the nausea you felt.

You stood there wide eyed, the hound was staring you down as you looked at him perplexed. Surely not. There’s no way Dodger Evans was standing on the pavement across from you. It looked like him, you decided to go up to him seeing as this possible Dodger lookalike seemed friendly, Dodger or not their owner must’ve been frantic about their puppy’s whereabouts. The tag read “Dodger” and your eyes shot up wide “OH MY GOD.” your inner voice spoke, you flipped the tag over and surely enough there was a phone number, Chris Evans’ phone number. You took out your phone with trembling hands.

Writing out the message, “Hello, is this Dodgers owner? I found him wondering by himself and I have a feeling he’s lost” you sent it.

“Could you send me a photo of him? possibly with you, so i know this isn’t a scam.”

An odd request, but considering his status a valid one.

you took a photo of Dodger, half your face in it, of course you wanted Chris to know he was safe. You sent it with a message reading “He looks completely fine! no sign of injury or anything, just missing his dad I think.“ you sent it not thinking and then it occurred to you “dad”, he’s going to know you know who he is.

His body relaxed. Chris had taken Dodger to the park and got too distracted in conversing with an old friend to notice Dodger had got out. As soon as he did though, his chest felt tight and breathing heavy. Who knows how long Dodger had been wondering for, or if he had been picked up. He began searching, texting Scott and his sisters, to let them know. Soon enough there was a search party for Dodger.

Chris’s phone pinged. The text read “Hello, is this Dodgers owner? I found him wondering by himself and I have a feeling he’s lost” his body instantly relaxed, until it didn’t. This could be a scam, someone has somehow found Dodger and known who he belonged to they’ve taken the number from the tag and continued on. “Could you send me a photo of him? possibly with you, so i know this isn’t a scam.” without hesitation he responded. He needed to know Dodger was okay and whoever this was had his best interest at heart. The person had responded within seconds.

A sigh of relief escaped his mouth, Dodger is okay. His rescuer was.. beautiful.

“Thank you, could you send me your location? want to reunite with my boy ASAP”

You sent your location and a message to put his mind at ease, “I’ve given him some water from my bottle, poor guy was thirsty, we’re in the shade waiting now”

That made him feel better, you obviously cared about animals, and definitely had Dodgers best interest at heart. You were only a few blocks from him so he jogged, within a few minutes he saw Dodger and you at the end of the street at a bus stop.

You tried your best to keep your cool. Yes you were a fan, but you found his dog. You saw him in the distance running down the street and anxiety struck you, you pushed it aside.

Dodger instantly recognised his dad and ran into his arms as Chris knelt down to greet him, “Hi bubba! don’t ever do that again.” your heart melted at the greeting, you know if it was your own dog back home you would be a complete mess. After a good long reunion Chris looked up at you.

“Hi, Thank you, Thank you. You wouldn’t believe how worried I was when I noticed he’d got out of the park” he spoke, out of breath, considering he had just run 5 blocks. You stood there for a second, trying to compose a calm and collected response so as to not freak him out. “Of course! I have a dog back home and would hope someone would do the same thing if he got out” He smiled at your sympathising.

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#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fic #chris evans fluff #chris evans x you #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x gn!reader #writerblr #avengers #marvel #marvel actors

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despairots · 4 months

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- my blood is singing with your voice , #o. dazai!

description, osamu dazai’s a kid. he still is, but it’s fine; he’s been exploited at 14, yet he’s terrifying. you never met him one on one, only observed him from a distance. | ( r’s opinion and history with the port mafia! ) ( a continuation of my special oneshot of “a night to remember” )

— story contains, swearing, suicide jokes, self harm implied, r! being insane, mafia activities, murder? violence, mental health, obsessive love disorder ( reader! ) please tell me if i missed anything! gender neutral! reader. age 15 - 18 ( 15 arc and dark era )

this is a continuous series of “a night to remember!” r!’s ability is based off rofū miki’s book: the sick rose (their overall genuinely character is based of the author aswell) r!'s ability: the user possesses poisonous blood they can use against their opponent or when threatened. if someone were to touch via skin contact or inhale the smell of their blood, the person will become severely ill. they wear any port mafia would wear; white button up, black blazer, and pants but r! wears a gauze around their neck.

you hardly remembered what it felt like to admire someone from afar. when it involved someone like dazai, the first initial thought was to fear him. from his list of crimes, his intelligence that extended to the title he was given.

“the demon prodigy.” a title he earned at the age of 15. although, a name like that should fit him, it doesn’t for some odd reason. maybe because he was still a kid like you, a kid who was mislead their entire life.

osamu dazai doesn’t know you, you know him though— after all, his name and position gives him a lot of attention. you’re a simple mafioso who’s been taken because of your ability, there was nothing all that special about you.

it’s scary that someone around your age can cause such destructive and damage, but at the same time, it wasn’t scary. you’ve never seen a boy climb up the ranks so aggressively fast. dazai’s extremely talented, yet so young that you wondered; was he always this much of prodigy when he was younger?

spectating (more like stalking) afar says a lot about your character and the community you grew up in. the port mafia taught kids to commit crimes to grow the port mafia, dazai joining caused the criminal organization to sky rocket.

he’s laid missions with no casualties (if you minus the mobs getting killed), his missions going smoothly and he’s the right hand man of mori, not only that, the youngest port mafia executive.

although, he carries such a terrifying image and name, you’re someone who does not care about that. if he hurts somebody, or if someday hurts me, the same red blood will be shred. only you can see his blood seeping through the wounds he inflicts on himself.

you would choose him, even if it meant destruction of the world. it’s a selfish, atrocious choice. and yet, it looks more like love.

acting is like love; you can’t do it alone. if you know how to surrender, then you know what to do when you act. loving another is an act of total surrender. love only appears when you surrender your heart, ego, and whole self for someone else.

dazai has a tone that sinks into the abyss of the spirit, and deep, dark eyes that seem to hold the conviction that the sun will never rise again.

you admired him… and the world he created. a universe without him, you can’t even imagine it. he’s poison to you. everything he says, his whole being. he can circulate within you and you can feel him changing me from the inside.

he could be your downfall.

#⑴ kaz’s written works!#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x female reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x male reader #bsd x reader #osamu dazai #dazai osamu #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x female reader #dazai x reader #dazai x gender neutral reader #dazai x male reader #osamu dazai bsd #dazai bsd #bungou stray dogs dazai

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sammysmaddy · 6 months

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Confessions (Dean x Reader)

Summary: When Y/N starts having some odd feelings, she turns to her religion to find the answers.

Pairing(s): Priest!Dean x Reader

Warning(s): dubcon, dark!dean, coercion, innocent!reader, religious/Christian themes, masturbation, manipulation, thoughts of p in v + creampie

W/C: 3.3k+

A/N: Short (for me) and sweet.

Masterlist

Dean had a love-hate relationship when confessions rolled around. He loved it because it was interesting to him quite frankly. He hated it because he enjoyed it for all the wrong reasons.

Dean enjoyed listening to people's problems, especially church members whom he rarely had the chance to converse personally with. He liked knowing what plagued their minds, and how they thought about the issues that they ran into. It brought Dean comfort to be reminded that he was not the only person who was a little messed up.

Dean himself confessed often too. Every week he would confess that he enjoyed listening to other people's confessions, and it soon turned into an endless cycle. He always confessed his sins, committed them afterward, and then confessed again.

It wasn't very often that Dean spent less than an hour in that tiny box, but today was different. Nobody showed up. Not his regulars who came in every single week- not even his regulars who asked to confess multiple times a day.

After thirty minutes or so, Dean decided that it was appropriate to lock the shop up. He stood up, straightened the creases in his pants, and went to open the door.

Dean was surprised to see Y/N sitting on the bench just in front of the confession box. When their eyes met, it was clear to Dean that Y/N was just as surprised- only in a much different way.

"I'm so sorry, Father Dean," Y/N looked up at Dean with wide eyes, very similar to that of a deer in front of headlights.

"Sorry for what, Y/N?" Dean could tell she was scared, so he did his best to ask her softly. He wanted her to feel that she could come to him for any reason.

"I've just been sitting here," Y/N raked her fingernails up and down her arm, looking down as she answered.

"And what's so wrong with sitting here? Not comfortable enough?" Dean chuckled as he stepped a bit closer to the young girl.

"Because I haven't confessed yet. I can't bring myself to do it." Y/N sighed, looking at Dean as he decided to take a seat next to her.

"Are you scared?" Dean asked though it wasn't necessary, and she nodded her head. "When I was your age, I had a hard time going to confessions too."

"Really?" She asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Of course," Dean replied, finding a small amount of humor in her shocked expression. "I haven't met a single person who hasn't been nervous at least once before confessions."

Y/N nodded her head slowly as Dean clasped his hands in his lap. He watched her face as it calculated his words, and wondered to himself what was going on through her brain.

Quiet was the only word that came to mind when Dean thought about Y/N. He knew her father and though Dean considered him a decent man, Dean knew how hard he was on her. It was something that her father always mentioned in confessions because he felt guilty for being so strict.

Y/N was very clearly affected by this. Even though she was an adult, she always listened to her parents, she got good grades at her community college, and she always attended church and all of its events. When she went to confession, she very rarely had anything to say. The worst Dean had heard from her was that she stayed out five minutes later than her father's predetermined curfew.

With that in mind, Dean was dying to know what she was planning to confess to him today.

"Do you want to talk about it, Y/N?" Dean asked and watched as she contemplated his offer. "If it makes you feel better, I can go back into the box and you can join me."

Nodding her head at the proposal, Dean stood up. Y/N followed suit as Dean got into the box, closing the door behind him whilst he waited for her to get settled on the other side.

"Whenever you're ready, Y/N. There's no need to rush." Dean did his best to comfort her, empathizing with the fact that sometimes big confessions weren't so easy.

"Thank you, Father," Y/N hummed quietly. After a few seconds, she spoke up again, "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been one week since my last confession."

"Would you like to start with a prayer?" Dean asked and once she answered, they preyed together for a few minutes before beginning.

"I don't know how to say this," Y/N admitted once she began.

"Well, luckily for you, that's pretty normal," Dean comforted her. "Oftentimes our thoughts are hard to put into words, but I'm here to guide you. What's on your mind?"

"I've been feeling... weird. I don't even know how to explain it." Y/N went quiet again. It was as if she were too afraid to say the wrong thing.

"Would you mind describing the feeling to me?"

"It's been happening for a while now. At first, it only happened at night when I tried to fall asleep, but now it's happening throughout the day." Y/N explained and Dean nodded to himself.

"How long would you say you've had this feeling?"

"A few months probably,"

"And when you get this feeling, does it make you feel bad?" Dean questioned. He combed through his thoughts, not even close to sure what she could possibly be talking about.

"Sort of," Y/N answered before taking a few seconds to think. "I think it feels good, but I feel guilty because it feels like sinning."

"What are you thinking of when you get these feelings?" Arching his brow as he pondered, Dean seemed to be at a complete loss. At first, his mind went to dark places, but then he remembered who he was talking to.

"Everything, really. Mostly classmates but sometimes also church members. It depends on the day."

"So, when you think of these people, what do you think?"

"I think about..." Y/N paused, seemingly too afraid to admit her thoughts. "I think about being with them."

"Oh," Dean answered softly. "Well, that's okay, Y/N. It's not uncommon for people your age to begin wondering who they will marry eventually."

"I don't think about marrying them, Father," Y/N sounded down as she spoke.

"What do you think about then?" Dean blindly asked.

"I think about them touching me," Y/N hesitated, sighing uncomfortably through her admission.

"Touching you how?" Dean's eyes went wide as his expression remained soft. Never in a million years did Dean think Y/N could ever be capable of thoughts like that.

"Just... touching me. I don't know how to explain it." Y/N reiterated.

Dean didn't know why his body reacted the way it did, but he could almost instantly feel his cock stir to life. He cursed at himself under his breath, knowing how inappropriate the timing was.

It wasn't that Dean didn't find her attractive, because she was quite frankly one of the most objectively beautiful people that Dean had ever seen. It was that Dean had never seen her in that way. In his mind, she was like a family member to him, so it was confusing to feel what he was feeling at that moment.

"Have I done something wrong, Father?" Y/N asked after a few moments of silence.

"No, no, of course not," Dean cleared his throat as he straightened up in his seat. "I just needed a few moments to process."

"Oh, okay," Y/N sounded discouraged as Dean tried his best to think of what to say.

"So, when you think of others touching you, how do you imagine they touch you?" Dean asked for clarity, again cursing himself at the reaction it caused in his boxers.

"Like, just rubbing my arm or maybe running their fingers through my hair. I know how weird it sounds."

"It's not weird at all, Y/N." Dean sighed in relief, grateful that he wouldn't be having the uncomfortable conversation he originally thought would unfold. "What is the feeling that you have?"

"I feel butterflies in my stomach," Y/N answered. "I never thought it was a real thing, I thought it was just something that happened in the movies."

"Is it only certain people who give you these butterflies?" Dean inquired.

"Yes. It happens a lot when I think about Tommy. And when I think about Mike. And John. And sometimes even you." Y/N took a brief pause as Dean's eyes nearly fell out of his head. "I don't know why it feels so bad to enjoy these thoughts. It feels like I'm doing something wrong."

"I don't think it's a bad thing to feel, and maybe you're mistaking those butterflies for comfort," Dean explained, thinking of an example to give her. "It brings me comfort to think of embracing my loved ones."

"I don't think it's comfort, Father. It feels uncomfortable when it happens."

"But you enjoy the feeling?" Dean probed, realizing that maybe he didn't understand. Y/N hummed her agreeance. "What part of it makes you feel uncomfortable?"

"Because it's not only in my stomach," She answered.

Dean's face scrunched in confusion before his mouth dropped, finally registering her words. Feeling a pulse, his body reacted more and more to her words. He used his palm to press down on his steadily growing erection, hoping to suppress the untimely pleasure that he was experiencing.

"Father Dean?" Y/N questioned and Dean realized that he, once again, forgot to reply.

"Sorry, Y/N," Dean cleared his throat again.

Sighing as he softly placed his head back against the thin wall, Dean realized that the palm pressed against his crotch was doing the exact opposite of what it was meant to. He couldn't believe how good it felt to touch himself, regardless of whether or not that was what he intended to do.

"Where else is this feeling?" Dean felt half guilty for asking but soon justified that it was only part of his job to ask.

"It's lower... I don't want to say where." Y/N was clearly too embarrassed to clarify.

"This feeling is actually quite normal, Y/N," Dean reassured the young girl, shutting his eyes tight as his erection only grew. "It happens to almost every single one of us. In fact, it usually happens to others a lot younger than it happened to you."

"Really?" Y/N chuckled softly in relief. "I thought I was the only one."

"Definitely not," Dean nodded his head.

Dean removed his hand that was pressed against his aching member, deciding it was best to leave it alone. But after a few moments of no pressure, it was almost too painful to leave alone. Dean hadn't felt this way in a very long time. He felt like an unfortunately horny teenage boy about to give a presentation to his class.

"How do I fix it?" Y/N asked as Dean dealt with his own demons. "I've tried to stop thinking about it, but I just can't. I don't know what to do."

"Have you tried focusing on something else?" Dean asked as he decided that it was too overbearing to leave himself untouched. He reasoned that he was only touching himself so that he could continue to do his job properly and that he wasn't going to get off with Y/N next door.

"Yes, Father. But now I think about it all of the time. It's like a sickness that I just can't shake off."

Dean could obviously relate to her, especially when he considered that this was the first time she was experiencing being horny.

"And when it makes you uncomfortable, how do you help yourself?" Dean was in uncharted waters.

He had never had this conversation with a woman during confession and wasn't entirely sure what to say. Usually, he'd tell the young men going through puberty to sort themselves out and they'd understand, but he knew that it could sometimes be more complicated for women.

"I sometimes try to touch myself but I feel... gross," Y/N hesitated, sounding disappointed in herself.

"How do you feel gross?" Dean asked, his cock now screaming to be taken out of his boxers.

"I just feel dirty, Father. Like I am evil for enjoying it." She admitted.

Dean realized that he was unconsciously rubbing his palm over his cock and that he was only making it worse.

"Have you ever... gotten off?" Dean wasn't sure why he asked.

It was like all of his impulsive thoughts had taken over his mind and body. As Dean mindlessly did his best to unbutton his pants, he went back and forth between feeling guilty and reasoning with his actions.

"I don't know how," Y/N answered after a few seconds, causing Dean's entire body to shiver.

Dean's body confused him as he impulsively thought of Y/N touching herself. He had never once imagined her in this situation, much less even thought of her in a sexual manner, so he wasn't quite sure why she was eliciting this reaction from him.

"Have you ever actually tried before?" Dean was no longer justifying himself in his mind.

His hand had a mind of its own and all feelings of guilt were pushed aside as he reached into his boxers, fully prepared to ask Y/N whatever he needed to in order to get off.

"I always start and then I stop. It feels like God is watching me." Dean could practically feel her regret as he slowly stroked his cock.

"What do you do when you touch yourself?" Dean continued to stroke his throbbing member as slowly as he could so that she wouldn't be able to hear him.

"I usually start by feeling myself through my clothes," Y/N admitted with little resistance. "And I've tried touching down there but... I can't do it."

"What's stopping you? Because it makes you feel gross?" Dean probed, swallowing the lump in his throat as he looked down at his rock-solid member. Y/N hummed in agreeance.

Dean knew that he should have ended the session as soon as he got a hard-on. He knew that it wasn't too late to end it even now but for whatever twisted reason, he didn't want to. Plus, again, to justify his actions, Y/N clearly needed help.

"Well," Dean hesitated, knowing how incredibly immoral his next sentence was going to be. "Why don't you try it with somebody you trust?"

"Like you, Father?" Y/N inquired and Dean felt his heart race.

"I can try to make you feel more comfortable experiencing those thoughts. Then you can go home and try to finish the job." Dean stroked his cock a bit faster, still trying his best to be as quiet as possible.

"Right now?" Y/N questioned again and Dean did his best to fight back a groan at the sound of her voice.

"If you want," Dean placed the ball in her court, hoping that she would agree. He figured she had no idea how screwed up his request was.

"Oh- okay," Y/N hesitated before answering.

"Are you ready?" Dean asked, going slower with his hand. Y/N purred a positive reply as Dean heard her shift around. "I want you to close your eyes and think about somebody touching you."

"Mhm," Y/N answered, before continuing on. "Can I... can I imagine you?"

It took Dean by surprise and further instilled his belief that she had no idea how wrong this was. Dean figured that her father must have never taught her about sex. The idea of Y/N going home to touch herself at the thought of Dean made him nearly burst.

"Of course," Dean threw his head back, biting his lip as he choked on a moan. "Now, where am I touching you?" Dean asked, feeling as his proximity to finishing got closer.

"All over, Father Dean," Y/N answered in a hushed voice.

"More specific, Y/N," Dean directed her on.

"You're touching my breasts," Y/N replied and Dean's cock throbbed in his hand in return.

"And how does that make you feel?"

"It makes me feel really good," She hummed.

Dean could sense that she was getting more comfortable as they continued talking, and Dean wasn't about to stop now anyway.

"And if I were to start touching you lower, how would that make you feel?" Dean stroked his cock faster, not sure how much longer he could take without climaxing.

"I think it would feel good," Y/N answered.

Y/N obviously wasn't very experienced and the somewhat naive state that she was in seemed to turn Dean on even more. He wanted to be the first to show her the ropes, but he didn't want to scare her away or reveal their secrets to the church.

As much as Dean wanted to take her right then and there, he knew he had to be smart about it. Dean knew he would have to take his time with Y/N because not only did she deserve that, he also couldn't afford to lose his job.

"Why don't you go home with that, and come see me again in my office soon? We will work through this and I will help you through every single step of the way." Dean wanted to sound reassuring to ensure that Y/N would go and find him later.

"Yes, of course, Father Dean," Y/N complied. "Thank you so much."

As far as Dean could tell, she sounded excited or perhaps more hopeful than she was when the session started. However, Dean was fully aware that it could be the product of his horny mind distorting her tone into a more positive one.

Dean sat still for a second, waiting to hear her leave the confession box. Once he heard the door open and close, he began to pump himself in his hand again.

Dean had never given the time of day to think about Y/N in this manner. Now that he was, the thought of touching her all over made him feel incredibly horny.

He imagined grabbing Y/N's breasts as she described, then dipping his fingers into her panties only to find a warm, wet cunt. Dean imagined the sounds she would make- how it would take all of his efforts not to cum just by the sound of her whines.

Dean could practically feel how tight she would be and could even hear the noises that he imagined she would make once he finally buried himself inside of her. He wrapped his hand even tighter around his cock, trying to replicate the feeling of her slick walls around him.

He then imagined what she would sound like when she called his name and wondered if she would be loud or quiet when he began to slam himself inside of her. Dean thought that she'd try to be quiet at first, as she was often a very reserved woman, but he figured that he would have her screaming after only a few seconds.

Imagining watching himself slide into her over and over again, Dean then pictured himself using his free thumb to rub soft circles over her clit. He then began to feel the way that Y/N's body reacted to his touch, clenching around him as she got closer to her own climax.

As Dean continued to iron out the details with his eyes closed, he replayed the scene of Y/N cumming all over his cock over and over again, wanting to cum in sync with her.

When Dean finally figured out exactly how he wanted Y/N to sound and imagined her wrapping her legs around his body, pulling him even deeper, he felt the band inside of him finally snap.

Dean swallowed his moans, tensing his entire body as he continued to pump himself feverishly. As he rode out his climax, he imagined slowly pumping into her as they both came, kissing one another passionately in his mind as they began to feel a euphoria wash over them.

Whilst Dean recuperated from the most intense orgasm he'd experienced in a while, he laid his head against the wall. All he could think about was how excited he was to begin his newfound journey with Y/N.

•••

Tag List ❤️

@hobby27 @writethelifeyouwant @deeranger

#supernatural #fanfic #spn #spnfamily #darkfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #priest!dean #preacher!dean #Dean #Dean x Reader

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