If I could have plucked you / like a mussel from your shell / I would have swallowed you whole.
— Brooke Matson, from “Elegy in the Form of an Octopus,” In Accelerated Silence
Could you pretty please write a lil spicy somethin’ somethin’ about reader dressing up as a slutty spider woman for Halloween which sends her bf, tasm!peter, absolutely crazy (she doesn’t know he’s spidey) thank you!!
Skin-tight & Sinful (tasm!PeterParker x Reader)
A/N: sexual innuendo, implied smut, brief reference to porn, cursing — loved this request tysm!
There are a few things Peter Parker had not expected about being Spider-Man. For one thing, he hadn't imagined being in his 20s and, even with accelerated healing, beginning to wake up with a sore back three mornings a week. He hadn’t imagined receiving, through the weird power of the Internet, unofficial requests for interviews from everyone from Good Morning America to Playboy Magazine.
Not to mention all the uncanny novelty Spider-Man objects that littered the shelves of tourist traps across New York City. The t-shirts (“I went to New York City and Spider-Man didn't have to save me”), the oversized coffee mugs (people drinking out of his face was weird as shit), and everything else from keychains to paperweights (though, he had bought himself one of those for his office at the university lab).
There was also a seeming uptick in the number of, uh, adult films that featured versions of Spider-Man much bulkier than Peter could ever imagine being. And the thirst-posts all over social media were something else entirely, and Peter would have never fathomed how many people wanted to get tangled up in his webs while he did unspeakable things to them. It was enough to make him blush—especially when his gorgeous girlfriend starting scrolling through the posts, laughing and reading them in a sultry voice.
But perhaps the thing he had expected least was you, that gorgeous girlfriend of his, standing in doorway of your bedroom, doing a little twirl for him in what had to be the sexiest version of a Spider-costume he’d ever seen, although that might have been his bias coming through because you could have worn a paper bag and still been a goddess in his eyes.
As such, on that foggy night at the end of October, Peter is practically agape, his eyes wide as they dart over every inch of your body as if he hasn’t already memorized every curve and dip of your skin.
In the wake of his stunned silence, you cover your face with your gloved hands. "It's silly, isn't it?" you whine, suddenly feeling a little too bare, a little too exposed. You weren’t even going out for Halloween, but you and Peter dressed up every year and surprised each other with your costumes.
"What?" Peter blinks, suddenly feeling ridiculous in his own poor attempt at a costume—one striped shirt does not a Waldo make. "No. No it's...you look...fuck."
Peter can’t quite describe what the look is doing for him and he's never been one to not have words ready on the tip of his tongue. It isn’t just the skin-tight webbed bodice (though he likes that) or the shorts that leave little to the imagination (he loves those) or the knee high boots that he'll definitely be asking you to keep on when he inevitably pulls you into bed for a tumble. It’s the whole thing, altogether, colliding with his imagination suddenly flying the both of you to the roof of the MoMA, where he’d first met you, and fucking you absolutely silly under the crisp autumn sky.
He almost tells you right then and there that he's Spider-Man—almost—because he wants to see your reaction, wants to know what that revelation would do to you. Under normal circumstances, Peter is pretty certain you’d smack him playfully and rumple his hair while berating him for not telling you sooner. But tonight—he likes to think that tonight you’d get hot and bothered by the confession, wet for him as your thighs squeeze together in those tiny shorts and he starts nipping at your jaw and thumbing at the hem of your bodice.
But he has some restraint and instead licks his lips, by your side in two quick steps and scooping you into his arms, his hands wrapping round to cup your ass, giving it a generous squeeze.
“You like it?” you grin, confidence rising in your chest, tightness fluttering in your stomach at Peter’s attention.
“You have no idea, ladybug,” he mumbles against your throat. “Wish I’d brought my Spider-Man costume.” He says it lightly, jokingly, but suddenly he’s seeing the sex appeal of those web shooters, imagining you laid out on your bed, arms splayed over your head, completely his.
You giggle softly, “Oh yeah? I bet you’d look hot in that suit.”
Peter smirks against your lips, biting at them gently. “I think I look pretty good,” he agrees, “Mine’s very realistic.”
A Garden Party
In Accelerated Silence, Brooke Matson
>Yan! Modern! Childe x Fem! Reader
a/n: wanna ruffle those ginger locks so bad. I also hope I did the warnings properly
Warnings: manipulation, kidnapping, drugging, intimidation, threatening, coercion, mentioned stalker behaviour
Word count: 2.5k
There's a picture of you on the wall. It's not even one you took, and it clearly looks like it was taken secretly in public.
Your stomach turns.
From what you can make out, this place seems like a penthouse. It's actually well furnished. Fancy, yes, but it's homey enough. Or at least it looks to be. All the floors are spotless and shining like newly polished marble. Everything looks pristine, way too out of your league.
A large painting with a cloth draped over it piques your interest. It's in the main living room, in a corner. Well, not exactly a corner but it's a few steps away from the glass wall that separates the terrace(?) from the living room. Is it some old, expensive painting? Probably is. He likes art but not the typical rich person having random expensive paintings on their walls kind of art. He only loved the art you made, even if you called it mediocre.
There's nothing more to this place. You don't want to boldly enter a room and see something you shouldn't or are better off not seeing. Even worse would be the scenario that you tick him off with that.
And besides, the only reason you even know that this is his place is because you've been here once. It was a brief visit considering that you decided to personally deliver his commission. He was surprised to see you at the door and pleaded you to come in, despite your efforts at insisting that you only came here for delivery. He made you coffee that evening. It was a pleasant atmosphere. One that you're certain cannot be recreated now.
The piece he commissioned was a bit intricate and detailed. Being a student, it took you a whole month to finish it: a canvas that's roughly the size of your torso. It even got you missing from or completely absent from your everyday park activities, something he questioned but didn't push you on.
However, you now feel as though he knew you were the artist and was just playing dumb. You had the client details so you knew it was him, especially with how he personally told you that he's in touch with an amazing artist who's making him a piece. Speaking of which, it's hung right there. The canvas is right next to the covered painting on the wall. Your signature on it would have made you feel proud if you didn't feel uneasy.
There's no sign of life here. Just eerie silence and the refrigerator buzzing. It's ominous and it makes you nauseous. There's regret in your heart. If you didn't ask him that day to pass the mechanical pencil you dropped, this would've never happened. You would be enjoying your summer vacation instead of being quite literally kidnapped just to wake up in the house of a supposed friend with a device attached to your ankle.
You rejected him. Maybe that's what drove him to this. Or maybe he isn't the one who did this. You don't know. There's no way you can know. You just woke up, the device could be something that someone put on you beforehand when you were unconscious and maybe he's the one who actually saved you with all his connections and-
The main door clicks. Panic settles in and you scramble back to the room you woke up in, hiding in the corner of the room that isn't visible because of the bed, with the lights turned off. It's pathetic but instinct nonetheless.
You hear the door shut and a sigh from the living room. The sound of a plastic or paper bag being set on a surface is followed by that of two feet padding on a marble floor. Keys clink, probably as they are set down, and you hear something being unzipped.
Something heavy and metal is put down, it's evident from the sound. Your heartbeat accelerates off the charts and you start counting backwards from 10,000 with differences of 7 with your ears covered.
This isn't happening.
You're not hurt.
Everything is fine.
You're not in danger.
This is all just a misunderstanding.
You're going to be home in a little whi-
He calls out your name.
You don't respond and pull at your hair with a stronger grip, counting faster.
He calls you again.
You start weeping, the fear sinking into your bones.
Luckily, it doesn't seem like he knows where you are. He had peeked into this room, you saw his shadow, but you weren't on the bed so he assumed that you weren't there.
Doors are being opened as he starts calling your name frantically. You go into full panic mode as you start quietly sobbing. He sounds angry and you're absolutely terrified.
A door slams shut and you jump, counting stopped. He mutters something about the bathroom to himself before you hear another door being opened. It closes soon after. Shrinking even more, you put your face in your hands as you curl up into a ball.
Everything and every sound around you is a blur as the only thing you can hear is your heartbeat. You don't even realise that there's a bathroom door near your spot, one that's being approached by him.
You start sobbing audibly now and in your position, did not notice him standing and looking at you.
Empty blue eyes watch with sorrow as he approaches the light switch, turning the light on. You notice and get startled once again.
It's over, he knows.
You don't dare lift your head up, bracing yourself for whatever's to come. It's a shame that this is what you've been reduced to. A small crying mess.
He rounds the corner of the bed and stands in front of you, watching, waiting. When you don't give a reaction, he kneels down in front of you and calls your name gently. Like a mantra, you keep counting backwards, and he frowns at the sight. You're scared; he doesn't want you to be afraid of him.
A hand reaches out to grab at yours and you flinch at the contact, head raising to look at him. Your bloodshot, puffy eyes meet his deep blue ones and he can't help but be mesmerised by the sight. You're beautiful, even when at your lowest.
The apartment is silent again as he drinks in the sight before him. You, however, don't know where to look. His face would be too intimate and given the situation, you want answers. Thus, answers you will get.
"Why and how am I here?"
He averts his gaze immediately at your question. The hand that was holding your wrist now moves to trace the device on your ankle mindlessly. You repeat the question and he gives a strained smile. "Do you really want to know?"
You nod, of course you want to know. He sighs and rests his head on the mattress beside him.
"I saved you.”
Your confusion grows and at the sight of who you thought was your friend, you have an odd urge to grab him by the collar and demand him to be clear.
He continues at your silence. “I’ll explain everything but right now I need you to get up. Come on, I'll get you some water. You’re a mess, and I don’t like seeing you like this.”
“What’s going on? You’re not telling me anything!”
“Calm down. I’ll tell you everything, but first I want you to freshen up. You don’t look too good.”
You shake your head and protectively wrap your arms around yourself. “Not until you answer me first.”
With a defeated sigh, he asks you to sit on the bed and you oblige. Childe tries to sit a little close to you but seeing the look you sent him, he opts to sit in front of you. At a distance of course.
You rub your eyes. Everything is so confusing. Last you remember, you were in the backroom with a trash bag. As soon as you had put it out, you blacked out.
Then you woke up here. It’s either your two jobs taking a toll on you or something else.
“You passed out, and I took you home.”
“Not even to a hospital? And if I was going to pass out, I’ld know. A person just doesn’t suddenly pass out like that. I blacked out.”
He shrugs, “Believe it or not, you passed out.”
Damn rich kids and their ability to be casual in any situation. You rub your temples at the sudden pounding headache and point to the device on your ankle, “Then what’s this?”
“Oh, it’s for safety.”
“What kind of safety? And what exactly is it?”
You know what that is. It’s a tracking device that doubles as an alarm when it exits the designated premises. It’s frequently used on people under house arrest so how did he get his hands on one?
“It’s for me being able to know where you are!” The smile he has on his face is unsettling. Now you remember why you wanted to cut all ties with him.
“And… and why would you need to know that?”
Childe leans in, smiling, “So that I can keep my little birdie in its cage.”
Silence. You push away his chest and get up on wobbly legs, aiming to get out of this place. He watches with amused eyes, well knowing that he has your phone and your belongings that you were out with. Still, he decides to ask, just to give you some semblance of hope. “Where’re you going?”
“Home.” With that you're out of the bedroom and you start looking for your shoes. You can cut that ankle thing off later. What matters right now is going to a police station before you go home and hopefully get out of this mess.
“Ah ah, no you aren’t.” A hand grabs your arm from behind and you frantically pry it off. “What? You’re not going to stay for dinner?”
“Childe, it's 11 something pm. I need to get home.”
“Even better! It’s late, you should stay.”
“Out of the question.”
“It wasn’t a question to begin with.” The unsettling smile is back.
Ironically, he doesn’t say anything as you put on your shoes. He stands there, watching humorously like there’s a punchline that only he can deliver. You wrap your scarf around your neck, side-eying him and reach for the door.
It’s locked. There's nothing there to turn it to unlock the thing. It needs a key, you horrifyingly realise. When you turn your head to look at him, he looks like he’s barely holding back a laugh.
“I told you! You’re not going anywhere. The door’s locked.”
“Childe, you don’t get it. I need to get back home! I… it’s very important that I do!”
“No one lives there. You live alone, so what could be so important?”
You wrack your brain for an answer as he watches you, amused. An idea pops into your head but following it is embarrassing.
“It’s uh, it’s a girl thing. I can’t stay here. I need to go right now.”
He laughs. The damned bastard laughs. "There’s a convenience store nearby. I can get you whatever you need, so there’s no need to leave at this hour, no? Or why don't you have a drink? I'm sure you'll sleep very well.”
Insufferable. Absolutely insufferable.
“What is up with you?”
Crossing his arms, he tilts his head amusedly. “I’m perfectly fine. You’re the one who’s sick. Come on, you should get some rest.” The way he’s so casual about it both infuriates and scares you.
“Childe, you’re my friend. Please, don’t do this.”
“Man, I never thought that word could sting like that,” he sighs. “You’re the reason I’m doing this so be good and just listen to me.”
“What did I do?!” this time, you couldn’t stop your eyes from watering.
Those two words raised more questions than they answered. The nauseating feeling in your stomach got worse and now you have a hand on a nearby wall for support. Does this mean he wants you dead? Or are you a victim of something worse?
“Listen. You are… a lot to me, okay? I can’t have you out in the world like that. Not when I can easily have you to myself.”
“What… are you trying to say?”
“What I’m saying is that you behave and everything will go smoothly. I won’t hurt you and you’ll come around eventually. Y-you have to.” His gaze drops to the floor as his breathing becomes laboured and he paces around in his spot, hands running through his hair. “I-I can give you anything you want. All you have to do is behave. Even if you don’t love me r-right now, you will later. It’ll all work out, yes. It will.”
Childe lets out a shaky exhale, now locking eyes with you. You flinch at the sudden eye contact. With a smile, he continues. “This weekend, we’ll go to the city hall and get married. Then, we can enjoy the rest of the month alone. I’ll get to know your parents and you can get to meet my family. I’ll get you anything you want, and treat you with nothing less than love.”
With slow, menacing steps, he walks over, caging you between his chest and the wall. The way those dead blue eyes look into you has you weeping again. Mind fuzzy, you hardly register the way his hands cup your face and brush away the tears.
“I’ll clear out your apartment for you, so you don’t have to worry about that. Not even about your parents. They’ll understand. Even if they don’t, I can easily freeze all their assets with one phone call.”
You wish he would stop talking.
“We’ll be happy together. I’ll pleasure you every day till there’s no one in your head but me. All you have to do is behave.”
Windpipe closing up, you wish you skipped work today.
“I won’t kiss you right now,” his smile widens, “so you’ll have to wait till the weekend.”
“Childe. Please, don’t do this.” immediately, you feel your knees almost giving out, the fear and adrenaline too much for your body.
“I already am.”
“You don’t have to!” Hiccups start leaving your throat as your vision gets blurry, but his hold on your face doesn’t loosen. “If you l-like me that much, you should court me. That’s how it works.” If I can sweet talk him into letting me go, I could get to a police station. “I’ld like it, to be courted.”
“No need. We’ll be getting married soon.”
You cry harder, and he shushes you like a little kid.
“It’s okay. All you have to do is behave. I wouldn’t want to hurt you, now would I?”
A/N: mentions of violence, injury, and blood ahead.
The cold night air was swirling around you as you made your way to the trailer park; it would be an unexpected visit for Eddie, but you desperately needed to see him.
It had started out as any usual evening locking up at Family Video, you’d sent Steve and Robin on their way while you closed down the place and secured it. Simple. Except when you’d started to walk down the street to the bus stop a car had turned its headlights on and crept along side you for the entire journey.
“Well look who it is,” a smug voice had commented, getting your attention, “it’s the freak’s girlfriend.”
You kept your head down, focussing on your shoes as you walked along the dark street, only ever glancing up to see if there was another car coming so you could at least try and get some help if you needed it. You hated winter anyway, but even more so now.
“Hey. You!” Jason called out again, now beeping the horn to get you to acknowledge him.
Your legs stop then you take a deep breath as you turn to the car to see him sitting there with the window down, leaning over the passenger seat to see you properly.
“What?” you snap.
He stops the car and pulls the handbrake up before getting out and walking around the front of the vehicle to stand in front of you, “do me a favour will you?” he asks with a smirk, “tell that freak of a boyfriend to stop selling drugs to Chrissy.”
You scoff, “that was a one off and you know it.”
“Don’t laugh at me,” he states seriously, pushing his chest out and making himself appear bigger than he was.
“I was more entertained by the fact you think he’s still selling them to her… you obviously don’t talk much do you?”
He steps towards you into the stream of light shining down from the lamppost next to you, and the sheer anger on his face is very clear for you to see now that he’s bearing down upon you. You felt scared, the coolness of the evening not helping you as you stand there trying not to shiver too much underneath the light jacket you’d brought to work this morning, but you keep your head up to match his line of sight and show that you weren’t backing down.
“Anyway, I have somewhere to be,” you lie, cutting through the tense silence before moving around him and continuing to walk on.
There’s a brief moment where you think you’ve got away without any sort of confrontation but it soon catches up with you as you feel a hand grabbing onto your hair and yanking you back with a start. You gasp as you reach out for nothing in particular, your arms flying out to the sides as you lose your balance and rest entirely on Jason, then you see the real hatred in his eyes as he bares his teeth and yells while he pushes you forwards with so much force that your face smacks the concrete before your hands can keep up with what’s happening.
The pain that courses through your head causes you to cry out as you roll to the side slowly, and as soon as Jason sees the blood gushing from your nose and a wound on your forehead, he bolts back to the car and accelerates away within seconds. You’re left on the pavement, coughing as the blood from your nose seeps down into your throat, then you manage to sit yourself up and watch as a waterfall of red drips from your face. There’s no one around to assist you, so you claw your way up the nearest wall and begin to hobble to the nearest place with someone who could help; Eddie’s.
Your nose eventually stops bleeding and the bitter winter chill has numbed your head enough that you can barely feel the cut above your eyebrow by the time you arrive at the trailer door, and after tapping lightly on the window Eddie appears in front of you with the most horrified look on his face. His eyes are wide with fear as he takes in your appearance, and he almost faints at the amount of blood that is soaking your clothes.
“Fuck!” he shouts, opening up his arms and helping you inside.
He sits you down on the armchair, his hands now clasping your freezing cold hands in his as he squats down in front of you, “talk to me baby, what’s happened?” he asks desperately, searching your eyes for some kind of emotion.
You were numb, physically and mentally; you could barely feel Eddie touching you, and you definitely couldn’t feel the fact that the front of your clothes were soaked with your own blood, “I… er… I think I pissed off Jason,” you stutter, wincing with the pain in your face as you move your lips.
Eddie lets go of you to stand up suddenly, dragging a hand down his face in frustration as the other rests on his hip at hearing the bully’s name, “Jason did this? He beat you up? I’m gonna- I’m gonna fucking kill him!” he screams.
He paces around in front of you, stroking his jaw as he figures out what to do now, but as your eyes follow him you start to feel dizzy, “Eddie… Eddie… can you stop? You’re making me… really dizzy,” you mutter, your body swaying a little with how off balance you were feeling.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry baby,” he whispers, stopping in his tracks and turning to face you, “can you walk? We need to get you into the bathroom… is that okay? Then we need to go to the police.”
You snap back to reality at the word police, and stare up at Eddie with anxious eyes, “no… no police… what if he comes after you? We can’t… no…” you begin to panic, your breathing getting faster with each second, and Eddie can see the distress this is causing you.
“Okay… okay, no police sweetheart. No police, I promise. Will you let me clean you up?” he suggests, kneeling on the floor in front of you. You nod in answer to his question and he guides you slowly through to the bathroom where he gets you to perch on the closed toilet seat as he stands between you and the sink.
His eyes roam your face agonizingly searching for a place to start, but only seeing the red that covers your mouth and chin along with the cut to your forehead that’s dripped down to the side of your eyebrow. He can feel his heart shatter as you just stare up at him like an injured animal, unable to properly process any thoughts, and desperate to feel safe again. The wind howls through the vent in the bathroom which makes you flinch, and Eddie has to bite back tears as he sees you out of the corner of his eye as he fills the sink with water and grabs a flannel. He soaks it in the water, watching the ripples move around his fingers and lap at his rings, then he reluctantly wrings the excess water off and turns to you.
“(Y/N),” he sighs sadly, wondering where to begin on the clean up.
You reach out and wrap your fingers around his wrist then bring his hand towards your mouth where you could feel the blood drying around your lips. Your grip loosens as he takes the lead, then you drop your hand down to your lap as he gently sweeps the flannel along your top lip first. It’s as painful for him as it is for you, just in a different way, and every time you close your eyes he takes the opportunity to dab the excess tears from his. The water in the sink is as red as your clothes by the time he’s finished and he quickly pulls the plug to empty it before you stand up, but when he tilts his head to the side to see how you are your body is shivering violently as if only just now feeling the cold from earlier.
“Wait there,” he instructs before racing into the bedroom and grabbing a change of clothes for you.
He returns within minutes with a pair of his pyjamas, and you move on autopilot as he undresses and redresses you, hiding your blood stained clothes in the corner of the bathroom so you can’t see them. You let Eddie guide you to his bedroom where he sits you down on the edge and quickly gets you a bottle of water from the fridge while you stare out of the window into the darkness.
“Take a sip baby,” he encourages quietly as he presses the cold bottle into the palm of your hand, “please.”
He desperately wanted to reach out and touch you but was terrified of hurting you further, and you’d completely retreated inside yourself which only worried him more. He watches you carefully, unscrewing the top to the water then downing almost half the bottle before replacing it again and putting it on the bed side table with a sigh.
“Eddie,” you speak softly, “I’m sorry.”
He wants to scream that none of this is your fault and that you should never be sorry for something like this, but he purses his lips and swallows his anger as he flexes his hands into fists, “you have nothing to be sorry for.”
“But if I hadn’t provoked him, then-”
Eddie’s gentle touch stops you mid-sentence with his hands carefully cupping your face after you turned to him, and you watch as his nostrils flare with rage at Jason, “this. This. Is not your fault. Do not think that anything you did deserved his reaction, because it didn’t. There is no way on earth that this was an appropriate response to anything,” he explains sincerely as fresh tears well up, his gaze darting between your eyes.
You direct your line of sight down to his lap, almost ashamed of making him so upset, “Eddie…”
“What did he do to you?” he asks, still caressing your jaw.
Your eyes lift to meet his and you let out a small sigh, “I, er… I was walking away from him and he… grabbed my hair to pull me back then threw me forwards onto the ground.”
Eddie’s hands drop from your face, your cheeks now warm from his caring touch, and he uses one hand to cover his mouth as he feels as though he could throw up any second at hearing what that cowardly bully did to you. You reach out for him but he moves away from your touch to stand up, now holding his stomach with his other hand, and you rise quickly from the bed to calm him.
“Eddie… Eddie, breathe… just breathe through it,” you soothe as his wild eyes dart around the room in panic, “please, just breathe,” your hands move either side of his head and tuck his long dark hair behind his ears, then you keep them just underneath his ears as he begins to take deep breaths.
“I want to kill him,” he whines as he finally allows himself to cry, “I want to rip. Him. Apart.”
“I know,” you whisper, gently tilting his head down so you can rest the uninjured side of you forehead against his, “but right now I need you here with me okay? Please don’t leave me.”
He drops his hand from his mouth and his arms find their way to your waist, “I’m not leaving you sweetheart, I will never leave you.”
You lean away before sweeping your thumbs along the dark circles beneath his eyes to dry his tears, but he notices a wince as you take a deep inhale through your nose and it takes everything for him not to run out of there, find Jason, and beat the shit out of him. His lower lip sticks out involuntarily and you look from his mouth to his eyes before giving him an unexpected kiss.
“Don’t stop holding me tonight Eddie,” you instruct softly.
“I won’t,” he promises.
Request: please please please can we get some more Eddie from you???? being jealous of seeing him and chrissy or turning up at his trailer after something bad happened or first time together or all of the above??!!! i truly adore your writing
never splitting up again
Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader
Requested: yes, by anon
Summary: Jay and Y/N split up on a chase, leaving Y/N in a precarious situation.
Word Count: 1,293
Warnings: angst, canon typical mentions of gunshot wounds, blood
A/N: I changed up the request a bit because I wasn’t keen on doing an episode rewrite and also I kind of did this for a Dean fic before, but I kept the main scene you mentioned so hope you still like this!
JAY HALSTEAD MASTERLIST
Jay turned onto the street where the suspect had been reported to have last been spotted, and you looked out onto the street fiddling with the engagement band sitting on your finger. Jay had picked out a nice band that wasn’t flashy and you’d started fiddling with it when you needed to slow down.
You were out of the car before the car had stopped fully, your gun out. “We don’t have time.” You told him.
Jay ground his teeth before he nodded. “I’ll take the next one.”
You turned into the smaller street, figuring with Jay in the next street, you’d probably be able to fence him in. Kevin and Kim were probably right behind you guys anyway.
You headed down the empty street, past warehouses and ducking behind empty cars when you spotted him.
“Finley Davis, Chicago PD! Hands on your head and down on the ground!” You yelled.
Finley paused, turning slowly to look at you, a gun still in his hand.
“Drop the gun and hands on your head. Now!” You yelled, your gun trained directly at him.
He put his hands above his head, slowly lowering himself to the ground. “Alright, alright. No reason for anyone to die.”
He put his gun down on the floor and slid it over to you.
You heard it before you could react, two shots that ripped through the streets. That’s when you felt it, something tearing through you as you were blown back with the impact.
A second gun? Where did…
But you could barely concentrate. Breathing was getting more difficult with each second and you were gagging, feeling the blood spurt out from your lips with each cough but you could hear talking, the sounds of them getting into a car, the engine, before they took off, leaving you bleeding on the ground.
“Nothing?” Jay asked, as Kevin jogged up towards him.
Kevin shook his head. “Kim’s on the phone with Voight and Adam now to see if there’s a way we can track them with the pods.”
Jay nodded, speaking into his radio this time. “Y/N, what’s your location?”
There was silence.
“Y/N? Do you copy?”
The silence was unsettling and Jay looked up at Kevin. Kevin nodded, letting Jay lead the way, back down the alley he’d last saw you disappear into.
Jay and Kevin kept their eyes out and their guns forward, their eyes sweeping the alley in front of them for any movement when Jay caught sight of you lying on the ground.
“No.” Jay whispered. “No no no, Y/N!”
He barely even heard Kevin tell him to go and that he had him covered.
“Y/N…” You looked up at Jay, your eyes locking on his.
“Jay… partner…” You tried to tell him, desperately hoping he got it.
Jay shook his head. “Babe, don’t talk alright? I got you. I got you.”
“5021 David, Officer down.” You could hear Kevin on his radio but Jay wasn’t having any of it.
“Kev, check the car. I’m not waiting for an ambulance, if the car starts we’re going!” Jay yelled. You could feel his hand on your side, which is where you must have been hit.
“Jay… partner…” You tried again but Jay shook his head at you again.
“It’s all right, baby. I got you.” Jay soothed, as the car engine kicked into life.
Picking you up as quickly but gently as he could, Jay bundled you into the car and onto his lap, Kevin closing the door and speeding off.
“Stay with me, alright. Breathe, Y/N. I’m right here. Stay with me.” Jay muttered, his arms encircling you.
Jay’s voice was getting fainter.
“No, Y/N. I got you, okay? You stay with me. Stay with me, baby.” Jay whispered, as Kevin pressed harder on the accelerator.
“J… partner…” You whispered, before your eyes fluttered closed.
“No, please. No, no. Y/N!”
It was terrifying, holding you in his arms like that as he felt your body grow limp, feel the blood pour out from your wounds despite his desperation to try to stop it.
“What do we have…. Jay?” Will froze, as he saw Jay rush in with you in his arms.
“Will, you gotta do something.” Jay said, his voice desperate. “You gotta save her alright?”
Will nodded at his brother as Jay lowered you onto the stretcher. “Alright, let’s get her into Baghdad, and someone get me Dr Rhodes!”
Jay stayed outside, wringing his hands, watching them work on you before Connor came out to tell him that they needed to take you into surgery. Jay could barely hear him, replaying everything in his head. He should never have agreed to split up no matter what. They’d lost the perp anyway, even if they’d…
The thought trailed off, interrupted with the memory of what you’d been so desperately trying to tell him.
Jay pulled out his phone, just as Voight walked into the waiting room. “Sarge, I think he’s got a partner.” Jay said, stuffing his phone back into his pocket.
Voight froze. “You sure?”
“That’s what she kept telling me. Jay, partner. Jay, partner. I didn’t get it then, I was so busy trying to stop her from bleeding, from… dying.” The word was heavy and Kevin patted Jay on the shoulder.
Voight nodded. “You stay there with her.”
Kevin glanced at Jay who barely reacted so Kevin gave him another pat on the back before following Voight out.
It took a while, much longer than Jay expected. Will had changed out into clean scrubs and joined Jay in the waiting room, even though his brother barely even registered his presence.
But Connor had done it. “We got all the bullet fragments out. She’s gonna be out of action for a while, and she’ll be weak. The bullet did some real damage in there, but you got here here in time, Jay. Any later and it might have been too late.”
“So she’s going to be okay?” Jay pressed, needing to hear the answer.
Connor nodded. “Yes, she’ll be fine. Will can take you in to see her soon.”
Jay exhaled, feeling like he hadn’t been able to breathe since he’d seen you lying sprawled in a pool of your own blood in that alley.
When Will was finally able to take Jay in to see you, your eyes were already open. You were weak, but you were alive.
“Jay, he has a…”
“Partner, I know. They got him, Kevin just called before I came in.” Jay whispered, bending down beside your bed.
You reached out for his hand, squeezing it. “I’m okay.”
Jay sighed. “You… I almost lost you today.” His voice broke gently and you tightened your grip on him just a little.
Jay just leaned in to press his lips on your forehead. “For future reference, never splitting up again.”
You smiled, and nodded. “Deal.”
Jay fell silent, stroking your hair gently.
“I thought I was going to die too.” You whispered after a while. “And all I could think of was all the things I wouldn’t get to do with you.”
“And that Davis has a partner.” Jay commented darkly.
You smiled. “I was afraid they’d still be around. That they’d shoot you too.” You winced as you finished your sentence.
“Easy.” Jay whispered, leaning in closer. “You’re going to be okay, and we have the rest of our lives to do everything we want to do. Together.”
You nodded, smiling. “Together.” You echoed.
Jay leaned in and pressed his lips onto your forehead again, hugging you gently for just a few seconds before he pulled away to look at you.
“I love you. Thank you for coming back to me.” Jay whispered.
You smiled again. “I love you too. Thanks for not giving up.”
THANK YOU FOR READING!! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THIS!! SHARE WITH ME YOUR FAVOURITE LINE/PART IN ANY WAY YOU’RE COMFORTABLE!
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Character taglists are open!
Pairing: Namjoon x reader
Genre: smut, established relationship
Rating: 18, unprotected sex, oral sex (f. receiving), language, a little bit of biting
Word count: 1792
Summary: Baby-making practice, what more can I say?
You stared, transfixed, at the tiny, precious bundle in your arms as she yawned widely and shut her eyes. You lowered your head to give hers a big sniff.
“God, smell her, Joonie. Isn’t it the best?”
You twisted on the sofa to bring the baby closer to Namjoon and he repeated your actions. He grinned.
“Yeah, it’s pretty good.”
You gently leant back and Joon scooted closer, resting his chin on your shoulder, both staring down at the tiny human in your arms. She was brand new – brand new! not even a week old! – and utterly perfect. Enormous dark eyes framed by the thickest, darkest lashes you’d ever seen; podgy little thighs and miniscule fingers curled into the softest little fist. It almost brought you to tears. You couldn’t believe how perfect she was.
You had hoped that his sister bringing new life into the world would have distracted his family from asking you when you would get your act together and marry… In a way, it had: they all just started asking when you would be having kids of your own. His sister and her husband hadn’t been together that much longer than the two of you had, but had somehow made it down the aisle and into the maternity ward already. You and Joon had talked about having kids ‘sometime’, ‘in the future’, ‘when we’re ready’. You had to admit, this was definitely accelerating those timelines. You couldn’t help but think about what your baby might look like, what Joon would be like as a dad, what you’d be like as a mum. Your heart clenched at the thought.
“I can’t believe I’m an uncle,” Joon says as you enter your apartment later that evening, kicking off his boots and shedding his puffer coat. “I don’t feel old enough! I’m not grown-up enough to have a niece!”
“Get used to it, old man! This is just the start!” You laughed as you took off your scarf, gloves and hat. “Wasn’t she perfect?”
Namjoon wrapped you in his arms and kissed you lightly. You shivered, maybe from the change in temperature from the cold outside. Maybe.
“She was pretty perfect, but I reckon our babies will be better.”
He kissed you again.
“Oh, our babies, eh? Tell me about them.”
“I think we’ll have three,” he began and kissed your neck. “Two boys and a girl, boy first. Close together in age so they can be close. Obviously, they’ll have your eyes-”
“And your brain.”
“And your heart.”
He tightened his grip on you and kissed you deeper.
“And when are we expecting these kids to come along, then?” you asked. He pretended to think about it for a moment.
“Well, the first one probably in about nine months’ time, what do you say?”
He grinned at you and you laughed.
“Wow, one niece and that’s all it takes? Have you thought this through?”
“Ah but we can practise, can’t we? It does make perfect, after all.”
“You’ve got a point.”
Namjoon swiped an arm over the sideboard, shifting keys and bags and wallets onto the floor, and lifted you onto it, kissing your shoulder and your neck and your jaw. You grabbed his hair to pull his face to yours and you kissed him hard, taking his bottom lip in your teeth. His hands found their way under your shirt, under your jumper, and he ran a thumb over your nipple, cupping your breast as his tongue tangled with yours. You were quick to pull his hoodie off and then quick to be frustrated by layer after layer of warm clothes.
Finally naked from the waist up, Namjoon shivered, and you kissed the goosebumps rising all over his flesh.
“Maybe we should go to the bedroom,” he laughed.
“What? You mean you don’t want to have sex right by our front door? I mean, I guess we can go to the bedroom, if you really want, if-”
He silenced you with a kiss and picked you up. You kissed his face all over and bit down on the soft flesh of his earlobe as he carried you to the bedroom. He let you down and you both quickly discarded your remaining clothes. The sight of his naked body would never get old for you: his strong, thick thighs; perfectly defined V-line; the little happy trail of hair leading to his belly button; his soft, smooth skin; his stiff cock, hot in your hand as you wrapped your fingers around it and pumped.
He grabbed you by the back of the neck and brought your face close to his.
“You know they say you’re more likely to conceive if you have at least one orgasm,” he whispered to you. You chuckled.
“I don’t think we’ll have any problems there, will we?”
Namjoon pushed you onto the bed and leant down from above you.
The dark lust in his eyes lightened for a second as he looked at you and he kissed you gently on the lips.
“I love you, really; I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
You kissed him once and then again.
“Now are you going to make me cum or what?”
He laughed and playfully smacked your face.
He kissed your collar bone as his fingers found your clit. He kissed your breasts as his fingers slipped and curled inside you and his thumb rubbed your swollen bud. His kisses trailed down your stomach and his tongue replaced his thumb against you; he sucked hard as his fingers thrummed in your dark, wet haven.
“Fuck,” you breathed, moaning as his tongue flicked back and across. Namjoon removed his fingers briefly and ran his tongue across your entrance. Taking one of your lips in his mouth, he bit lightly and you squirmed.
“Harder,” you panted and you could feel him grin against you. He clamped his teeth harder and his fingers returned to your clit, rubbing all over it your own arousal. He trapped it tightly between two fingers and rolled them back and forth. He bit the soft flesh of your inner thigh and hot skin of your mound; he kissed the crease of your hips and pushed your legs open wider. All the while, you could feel the pressure build inside you, you walls spasming and clenching as you neared ecstasy. You gripped your own hair as you moaned, pulling hard as the waves rolled through your body.
Namjoon’s mouth was back on your throbbing clit, sucking and licking; his fingers back inside you, hooking and curling against you. He held you down as you bucked beneath him, crying out as pleasure overwhelmed you. He didn’t stop, didn’t falter, didn’t stutter as you came all over him, gushing over his hand, clenching his fingers inside you. Unable to utter a coherent string of words, you tapped him on the head for relief. He came up for air, mouth shiny and sticky, and lay a line of sloppy kisses across your stomach and your breasts and your chest.
You pulled his face to yours and kissed him, tasting yourself all over his lips and his tongue.
“Ok,” you said, breathlessly. “Orgasm, check. Time to pretend to make a baby?”
He chuckled, the noise rumbling deep in his chest and kissed you again. You reached between you to take him in your hand again; his tip was slick with pre-cum and your walls clenched in anticipation of feeling him inside you.
“Imagine, though,” you whispered as he guided himself towards your waiting wings. “If we had a baby-”. You gasped as he pushed himself inside you.
“Babe,” he said, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes looking deep into yours as he rolled his hips. “Our baby is going to be the best baby there’s ever been.”
You nodded and let your eyes roll back, feeling every contour of his manhood against your tight slip.
“Best baby ever,” you agreed. “’Cause you’re the best.”
Namjoon nipped at your earlobe.
“No, ’cause we’re the best.”
“I love you.” The words barely audible as your breath escaped in shallow bursts. “I love you, I love you.”
He lay so close on top of you that your torsos met as he thrust harder and harder, his breath becoming laboured, his groans louder. You whined quietly in his ear and tugged at his hair; you wrapped your legs around him and the two of you moaned in unison as he was able to hit even deeper inside you. He lifted himself up on to his hands, looking down at your bouncing breasts with half-closed eyes. He wanted to cum on them, spray himself over your chest and mark you as his own, but then he thought about cumming inside you, making a baby – even a pretend one – and he felt all his muscles twitch. You were on birth control so it wasn’t as if this was the first time he’d ever come inside you, but it felt different this time.
“Fuck,” he growled, feeling close to the edge. He thrust faster, breathing hard, looking down at you: your messy hair, hand over your eyes, mouth agape, your smooth skin and red lips, the mole on your left breast, the tiny scar by your hairline. As the blood roared in his ears, he felt his heart clench, not knowing how it was possible to love one person quite this much. With a sudden shudder, he came, shooting his hot seed inside you, his muscles tight, his jaw clenched.
He fell on top of you, still inside you. You both lay still for a moment, no sound in the air but your breathing, no sound in your ears but the thumping of your heart. You felt hot inside and out, tingling with pleasure and relief.
“I love you,” he whispered, bringing your hand to his lips. With your legs still wrapped tight, you wrapped your arms around him too and kissed his forehead.
“I love you, too, Joonie.”
You patted just above where your uterus rested.
“See you in nine months, mate!”
Namjoon laughed and you felt it in your own chest.
“Maybe next time, it shouldn’t be just for practice.” He looked at you searchingly. Your heart flipped.
“You want to have a baby with me for real, Joon?”
“I want to have everything with you, y/n. A whole life.”
You shuffled beneath him, bringing your faces close.
“Ok,” you whispered, your faces so close that your lips touched his as you spoke. “I’ll make an appointment and get my IUD removed.”
“But does next time have to wait ’til then? ’Cause I’d really like to practise some more.”
“Well, it does make perfect.”
synopsis: reacting to their crush wearing another guy’s jacket w/ a TWIST
characters: matsukawa issei, hanamaki tahahiro (ft. kyoutani kentarou & gn!reader)
genre(s): fluff, slight angst, a pinch of crack, jealously, friends to lovers, accidental confessions(?), mutual pinning, college!au | headcanons
cw: swearing, slight manga spoilers if you squint, mentions of bullying, implied toxic masculinity, so-called “nice guy”, mentions of stalker-ish behavior, extremely long, & vvv self indulgent cuz i was emo when i wrote this <3
note: this was inspired from this <3 also, this hcs was supposed to include oikawa and iwaizumi but i had to cut them out. i hope you like it e n way <3
note 2: this is reposted from my old (soon-to-be deactivated) blog: @/levinneheart
He went to his last class early and was surprised to see you were already there, sitting in your usual chair
This was a first, usually he would be the first to arrived in the classroom and you would arrived after him with snacks in your arms
“I need snacks to survive this long day, you’re welcome to have some.” You’d say to him and you were absolutely right
You and your snacks made him get through the day without a pounding head and a growling stomach as he went home
You were working diligently on something while occasionally popping a cheese-flavored popcorn onto your mouth
He assumed you were working on your assignments in advance for subjects he didn’t have as it was your routine
He clears his throat, catching your attention and making you looked at his direction as he greeted you with a small smile
You were practically beaming, eyes lighting up at the sight of him as you greeted him back cheerfully, seemingly in a good mood
He took his usual seat beside you and you immediately laid your head on his shoulder, sighing in content
He didn’t mind your gesture if it weren’t for the pounding on his heart but he was surprised you hadn’t noticed it yet
To him, you were so out of his league – so kind, so generous, so everything of his ideal type and pretty to look in the eyes too
The way that you two wordlessly and unconsciously leaned in for each other’s touch – absolutely no highs
Just the comfortable silence of enjoying one another’s presences that he longs in relationships
This feeling scared him – terrified him, even. Since he never felt anything like this for anyone before
Little did he know, it was your way of conveying to him with your love language and that the feeling is mutual
It wasn’t long before class started and not long till it ends. The clouds were starting to get grey and dark. Seems like that it’s starting to raining too. You usually like this kind of weather if it wasn’t such a hassle to get home. It’s getting cold too, you thought as you rubbed your hands together and snuggled subconsciously against Mattsun for warmth.
Matsukawa, on the other hand, held the urge to slip his arm onto your waist and pull you closer to him, the urge to press you firmly to his broad chest and bury his face onto your shoulder. His fingers twitched at the thought but he shook the feelings away before poking you once as he excused himself to you before softly nudging you off him to retreat to the restroom.
When he arrived, he deeply sighed with a fist clutching his chest to desperately trying to calm his accelerating heartbeats. He told— more like convinced himself that he will confess after class but you being so close to him was making it harder to remember his memorized lines. He could still remember how you smelt like, the scent of your shampoo mixed in with your favorite perfume.
It was driving him mad at how good you smell. He splashed his face with water from the sink before staring at himself, trying to focus before chuckling to himself. He looks ridiculous right now, his face slightly damped and eyes glaring at nothing but his reflection. He’ll be fine, even if you reject him – he could just play it cool and say it was a joke.
Yeah, right. He thought. That’s just mean.
When he comes back, his seat was occupied by a fellow male student, laughing with you. This would had been fine as you were quite approachable yet he couldn’t help himself but to eye on the unfamiliar jacket you were currently wearing. You didn’t wore the clothing earlier and it looked too big for you to own it.
His mind was racing with the thought of you wearing another guy’s jacket other than his and his feelings were all over the place; mixture of anger, disappointment, and heartbroken. You never told him you were taken and you never really specify that you didn’t like him so he knew he had a chance.
He firmly grabbed your shoulders and glared daggers at the man before he stood up from his chair, cowering away while you turned around to face him with a frown. “What was that for? He was getting to the best part of his joke.”
“I don’t like him and his jacket on you so take it off.”
“What? No, this isn’t his—”
“I’ll exchanged it for mine.” he cuts off.
“No thanks, Sei. What’s this all about anyway—”
“Please, yn. Don’t make me—”
“No is no, Sei. Besides—”
“I like you. Can you now please wear my jacket?”
You stayed silent for a second, stunned at his sudden confession and jealousy over a piece of clothing. “I like you too but this is actually my jacket.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, right?”
“Nope, I tried telling you.” You grinned at him, poking his sides as his eyes widened in realization.
“Oh…” He trails off. “Wait! Did you just say you like me?” This made you chuckle, it made you want to play with him just a little.
“Did I?” You say, teasingly.
He groaned in response. “Although, I must say: you look adorable, being all jealous over my oversized jacket.” He palms his face and that makes you chuckle even more as you grin at him. “My jealous boyfriend.”
Oh god— he doesn’t care anymore and he wouldn’t have it any other way as long as you keep tell him you’re his.
You and Hanamaki met in elementary school and immediately became friends all the way till highschool
Back then, he was smaller than you and got bullied because of his pinkish-brown locks, causing him to be subconscious of it
But you told him otherwise so you protected him and fought against many of his bullies in elementary
During in middle school and highschool though, he grew more taller and confident on his hair because of you
You didn’t had to protect him anymore so you settled on cheering and supporting him from the bleachers during his games
His team would welcome you warmly so it wasn’t a surprise to them that you grew on them, along with Kyoutani
He even developed a soft spot for you, causing you to call him: Kyou without any honorifics since you two had grown close
At first Hanamaki was ok with it, you’d love making new friends to bond with, but at the same time he was envious
Back then he was your only friend and now, your attention was everywhere but him and you two were seeing each other less
You tend to stick with Kyoutani these past few days, ever since the two of you became classmates and seatmates
And he was gonna graduate soon, leaving you behind to focus on your studies and club activities to be able to graduate
That thought saddened him, he doesn’t want to be apart from you and yet he also doesn’t want to chain you down
Hanamaki has now graduated and is working nearby Aoba Johsai, sometimes you’d go in there to buy snacks on your way home or to shelter yourself from the hot breeze of summer air and into the cool temperature of the grocery store.
Either way, he was just happy to see you in one of his jobs and sometimes catching up with you about your life and vise versa. You, however, went there to escape your persistent admirer who just can’t seem to understand why you would say no to him.
It was turning into your safe haven where you can relax and breathe without worrying about him watching your every movement. And today wasn’t one of those moments, you’ve had a sinking feeling on your gut so you stayed close to Kyoutani and asking him to walk with you home.
“Just to be safe, Kyou.” You say as you clinged tightly onto his arm. He grumbled in annoyance but didn’t protest against it, instead he let you gingerly drag him to the usual grocery store where Hanamaki worked. Not knowing that your unwanted admirer was following the two of you.
The sounds of bells ringing alerted Hanamaki of of new customers. “Welcome to— oh, hey Kyoutani and y/n.” He says with a smile, grateful to see familiar faces inside the empty store as usually around this time of night was less busy than in the morning and afternoon.
“I’m going to the restroom, yell when you need me.” Kyoutani informed to you, squeezing your arm before gently prying away from your grasp. You nodded with a smile and leaving you alone with Hanamaki. You stood there still, occasionally fidgeting as you looked around anxiously.
“What’s wrong?” He couldn’t help but asked.
“I—” You were cut off but the entrance’s bells ringing and you instantly stiffened at the presence of the newcomer.
“There you are, (l/n). You’re so hard to keep track of. You’re lucky that I’m such a nice guy, going out of my way to do this. And it’s all for you.”
Hanamaki noticed you slightly trembling from the corner of his eyes and as he was about to say something, he was interrupted by a cough from none other than Kyoutani. “Who the fucking hell do you think you are?” He asks, almost growling.
“Her admirer.” The self proclaimed nice guy proudly said.
Kyoutani scoffed before turning to you. “Is this creep bothering you, (n/n)?” He asks, draping a jacket he was holding over your shoulders.
Your admirer look between you two. “I don’t believe you would date someone like this, (l/n). You can do better by dating me.”
“Actually,” Hanamaki spoke up. “they can date whoever they want as long as it’s not you. Now, go before I call the police for suspected illegal activities.” He warned with venom laced in his tone while crossing his arms over his chest.
The boy huffed. “You’re not that pretty anyway!” He hollered at you as he stormed out like a kid throwing a tantrum.
You released a heavy sigh of relief before thanking Kyoutani and Hanamaki multiple times for helping you finally get rib of that guy.
“No problem, (y/n). He was just jealous you two look cute together.” Hanamaki teased, hiding his pain of the thought of you being taken.
“We’re not dating.” You chuckled as Kyoutani grunted in agreement.
“And the jacket?”
“It’s mine, I told him to hold it for me.”
“Oh.” He paused for a second before laughing out loud. “I assumed you two were dating since the two of you are pretty close.”
“Well, yeah. Didn’t Mattsun-senpai tell you that we’re cousins?”
“Nope, he didn’t tell me anything.” That jerk. He cursed.
“Were you jealous of Kyou, Makki-senpai?” You teased with a smirk.
Fuck it. This was his last chance. “Yeah, I was! Now, I’m all embarrassed and stupid because I used to like you.” He rambles while you look at Kyou and he shrugs before leaving the store.
“Why didn’t you confess before?”
“You know why!”
“And it only took my oversized jacket to make you confess to me? You’re unbelievable.” You shook your head in disbelief. “I liked you too, idiot!”
“Oh… WAIT, WHAT?!”
𝐎𝐇 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ──── 𝐂𝐘𝐉
in which, the night comes to an end and soft bad boy!yeonjun drops you off in front of your family house, all the while you tell him the reasons why your father is intimidated by him.
0.802k words, no warnings, fluff.
© 𝐊𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐀, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐. 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 • 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆/𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊
“Don’t go too fast, okay?” The wind makes it hard for you to make sure that your words are heard by him as you grip tightly on his jacket, the usual one with the leather fabric you’d gifted him the previous year. You bury your face on his back, not able to stomach the velocity that he’d accelerated to, which was admittedly not even that much. Speed has never been your forte.
You aren’t sure if he’s heard you, but the slowing down of the vehicle indicates his attention to your discomfort. Breathing out a deep sigh of relief after the feeling of suffocation dissipates, you try to find comfort in the way the wind whips at your clothes— much more gentle this time. As the man before you wraps the palm of his large hand around your forearms hugging his torso, your heart trembles.
The cool summer air nips at the tip of your uncovered nose, the sound of cars passing by as you’d slowed down to a complete stop by the side of the almost empty street filling the silence during this time of the night. As you walk down the path to your home hand in hand under the streetlights, leaving his bike at the small parking space near an open convenience store, you comment, “You know, you didn’t have to leave your bike behind, right?”
Yeonjun hums in agreement, swinging your arms back and forth with child-like enthusiasm, “Yes, but I wanted to walk you home.”
You take note of the way the corners of his lips tilt into that awfully sweet smile you can never seem to get enough of and the way your fingers are interlocked, all of the crevices fitting perfectly with each other as if made for no one else but the two of you. The callouses lining the inside of his palm, a sign of commitment to the work he does, and the gentle grip he holds you in is all you need to feel safe and sound.
A grin overtakes your expression at his short, but sweet response. With the silhouette of your house clearing up in the short distance, you ask him, “Do you want to come in? I’m sure my mom would be thrilled to have you over again.”
He chuckles, albeit a tad shamefully, “She would, wouldn’t she? But I know that your father isn’t my biggest fan. It’s best if I just left you at your doorstep.”
“Oh, shut it,” you exclaim, “I know he isn’t the easiest person to get along with and he was kind of rude to you when you first met him, but he’s just like that because he wants to make sure you’re the right one— which, you absolutely are. He’ll see how amazing you are in no time, just so you know!”
“You’re over exaggerating it, love.” He laughs, finding it endearing how passionately you seem to be taking his relationship with your parents. To that, you slap his shoulder, mumbling a few incoherent words. “My mom loves you more than she does me, so you’re stuck with us. My dad will have to get used to it as soon as possible. Trust me, I know that he liked you the moment you told him one of those stupidly funny jokes of yours. He just won’t show it, because he is stubborn and he’s probably intimidated by these.”
You point at the chains dangling off his attire.
“These?” He fiddles with the one hanging off his breast pocket, “Surely not. He has an entire crossbow displayed on the living room wall!”
“He wasn’t as cool as you during his youth, so he’s jealous.” You whisper, paranoid of being heard by said older man even though you aren’t within a ten feet radius of your home. “Also, he thinks you’re doing wild stuff with your bike, so there’s that.”
Yeonjun lets out a snort, “That’s ridiculous! I don’t even do anything remotely dangerous with it. Not in the way he thinks I do, at least?”
You nod, agreeing with him, “Right? You are the sweetest, kindest guy I have ever known.” Affectionately, he pulls you in to his side to press a tender kiss on your temple, “I try my best to treat you right.”
Your heart flutters at the act of love. When he pulls back with a content sigh, you leave a shy kiss on the back of his hand, reluctantly letting go after a light squeeze. “Goodnight, Jun.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, hopefully.” He departs with a wave of his hand and an aggressive flying kiss in a typical Yeonjun fashion, which you’ve come to adore. You never knew how nice of a feeling it was to have a person you were so confidently able to call your home.
taglist batch one: @junityy @99outros @heejojo @mark-lees-world @strwberrydinosaur @yourlocalhotgf @jdyunvrs @jitaros @luvholicz @spookybias @envirae @renjunvrse @iuwon @rae-blogging @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @astaia @glorybeom @tyongishs @wccycc @thegracerammy @twntycm @sooblvr @icywhatim @yutaalove @yjwfav @yyxy27 @eternallyhyucks @jaeyuncult @w3bqrl @moontines @rielleluvs @not-camila @todorokiskitten @enha-hwajinna @jungwoniics @jayk2511 @ifwtyun @ily-cuz-i @misah0e @squiishymeow @enhacolor @clarakyunisageek @ahnneyong
note: this is a rewritten version of an old jaehyun fic from my old blog!
𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞 — 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Dr. Strange tells Peter that in every existing universe you don’t make it, yet the multiverse has other plans.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): Angst, mentions of dying, fluff, happy ending!
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2,045
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Tom!Peter Parker x fem! Reader & Andrew Garfield!Peter Parker & fem!Reader
𝐀/𝐍: Hello my lovelies... AHHH I WROTE SOMETHING AND FINSIHED IT! Anywho, hope you like it and feedback is always appreciated! *muah* Enjoy!
“I think it might benefit you, Y/n, if you just went home.” Dr. Strange brushed past you barely acknowledging you.
“Home? In the midst of all this, no way!” You exclaimed.
“Trust me kid you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“Are you forgetting who fought along side the Avengers, watched a quarter of her family die, and had to watch her own dad die a hero’s death.” Your eyes glistened with water as you stood tall against the wizard before you. “Like hell! I’m staying.”
“Your funeral...” He sighed feeling that there was no use in trying to convince you to leave.
“What does that mean?” Peter perked up. There was a drop in his stomach as he looked at Stephen confused. His choice of words did not sit well with him.
“You said...it’s your funeral, why’d you have to say it that way?” Your eyes darted between the two of them. Your heart accelereated just a little. Peter had a point.
“No reason...” Dr. Stranged nonchalantly shrugged.
“See now that makes me think that there is a reason.” Peter frowned. Dr. Strange gave a side look before looking at the ground. Peter’s back straightened out. “Stephen what are you not telling us?”
“You know...” He began. “You know about the multiverse theory right?” He looked over to Peter who nodded.
“Yeah, the possibility of there being infinite numbers of universes that exist.”
“Well you might want to accept that theory soon because we’ve unleashed hell.”
“Okay, I get that but...what does that have to do with Y/n?” MJ’s eyebrows furrowed.
“So for instance. Say there’s another world like ours only slightly different with changed variations. While you may think Peter is the only Spider-Man. There’s another universe that has a Peter Parker who is Spider-Man.”
“What’s the difference?” You crosed your arms over your chest.
“Maybe the way they look, but for some reason you’re the only person that looks the same in each universe.”
“So let me get this straight...” You stopped him. “You’re saying that somewhere out there. Is another me?”
“Yes.” Dr. Strange nodded.
“Okay see that I do get, but why did you say... it’s your funeral?” You squinted your eyes. Dr. Strange closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“CAUSE YOU DIE!”
Peter, Ned, MJ, and you all flinch at his sudden outburst.
“What?” You mutter out.
“In every existing universe with you in it...you die. That’s your fate, no matter how many times you try to change it. So go home while you can.” He sighed. He regretted telling you as he watched your shoulders slump.
Peter felt his heart drop. He turned his head to look at you. You only stared emotionless at the ground.
“Y/n-” Peter was about to grab your arm gently, but you stopped him.
“Did you know my dad was gonna die?” You said out of curiousity. His death never really sat right with you. There was a gut wrenching ache inside you every time you thought back to that day. His face haunted your nightmares, while his last words repeated over like a broken record in your head.
Dr. Strange’s silence spoke louder than his words ever could.
You nodded, biting your lip. Your eyes glistened. “And you did nothing.” You scowled at him. You composure was breaking. “A little birdy told me you said there was only one chance that we won against Thanos. Yet why do I feel that that might not have been the only possible outcome?” You glared up at the man before you.
“It was the only way-” Dr. Strange tried.
“Now you’re telling me that I die, no matter what, and there’s nothing we can’t do about it.” You scoffed. “No! I won’t accept that. I’m not going out- just because you say so. I’m changing my fate.” You spoke firmly. “To hell with fate!” You left it at that and walked out of the��Sanctum Sanctorum. Dr. Strange sighed then looked over at the remaining teenagers. He mostly directed what he was about to say towards Peter.
“Don’t let her out of your sight.”
Peter clenched his jaw and nodded firmly.
To hell with fate. Those were your words, and now it seems that they were coming back to bite you in the ass.
Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as your fingers couldn’t grab the metal pole fast enough. Ned watched as you and MJ fell.
You couldn’t really scream. You knew you could, but nothing came out. You felt lightheaded as you free fell. You always told Peter how scared you were of falling. It’s why you hardly let him swing you around New York. The correct term for your fear was Ptophobia. Peter knew it by heart since you liked to remind him on every swing.
“You know what Ptophobia is? No? Well, I’m going through the motions right now-- P-ETER!” You would cling to him every time he pretended to drop you for laughs.
Yet this time Peter wasn’t laughing and you- were really falling.
“Y/N!” Peter yelled as he caught MJ’s hand. He sat her down on a platform and dove after you. “Y/N!”
The distance between his hand and yours had you mentally preparing yourself for the worst to come as you rushed towards the ground. The sight of him came and went with each second passing by. Then he wasn’t visible anymore. You had closed your eyes.
You’re not sure why you had closed your eyes. You have had multiple occasions where you were faced with the brink of death. Yet there was something about dying by the thing you fear the most that scared you. Closing your eyes felt instinctively right. You considered it a way to lessen the idea that you were going to splatter on the cement ground below in under however many seconds you had left. It was just a matter of when now. Seconds before your bones would break amongst the collision of the hard ground and your body.
But it never happened…
There was a pull on your extended hand. You gasped. Your eyes widened as you felt your body jolt in surprise.
Your Peter shot out a web to stop him from falling. He clutched at where his heart was and let out a sigh of relief. He was going through so many emotions he teared up a bit.
You didn’t even really process the fact someone saved you. You were too busy looking down at what seemed to be a hundred or more feet between you and the ground.
“AHHHH.” You yelled.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t look down if I were you.” You finally looked up and it was not the person you were expecting. The questionable and unfamiliar voice had your eyes practically falling out of their sockets. You panicked and in doing so you slipped out of your hero’s grasp. So you fell again.
Yet he caught you.
“I got you!” He held you by the arm. “Woah, hey you’re alright.” He tried his best to calm you down. “Why don’t we take some deep breaths, yeah.” He nodded hoping you would too. “In and out, okay. Let’s start now!” You were too overwhelmed to argue with this Spidey imposter that you ended up inhaling for 5 and exhaling for 6. “See that wasn’t so bad. You’re a natural! You okay?”
“I uh, you, I-I have Ptophobia.” You stammered then gulped. You looked down and your eyes widened.
“Gesundheit.” He tilted his head.
“N-No, it means I-“ Your words came out jumbled.
“I know.” He laughed. You could hear his smile through the mask. He pulled you up and placed you down on a sturdy-looking platform.
Once you were on your feet again you finally got a good look at your savior. A similar suit, similar spider emblem, you just needed to know who the guy behind the mask was.
“I uh, thank you? I’m sorry. I really don’t know what to say, I just learned multiple universes exist, and then you just, what? - really thought the wizard was talking bull.” You half-heartedly laughed.
“Can’t say I’m at lost for words either cause I am…you’re supposed to be dead.” He trailed off. He tilted his head. Probably examining you from head to toe.
“So I’ve been told!” You answered curtly. “Thanks for changing my fate though.” You gestured over his shoulder where the drop continued. “Y-You did well...” You nodded and gave him a thumbs up.
“Well you know...lightning never strikes twice in the same place.” He walked up to you slowly.
“No, guess not.” You giggled, then noticed lightning in the distance. “He might strike it in the same place though.” Your shoulders tensed. You watched him make a fist. His shoulders were straightened. He was on high alert. You tapped his shoulder catching his attention. “W-What’s your name?” You smiled gently.
He whipped his head around to face you. He chuckled then removed the mask from his face. You gasped slightly in amazement.
“Cute.” You were so out of it you didn’t register the fact you said that out loud. Your eyes grew big, yet he found your embarrassed state amusing.
“Peter Parker, nice to meet you, Y/n.” You glanced out at his extended gloved hand. Then gently shook it. You couldn’t believe it. Two Peter Parkers had somehow made their way into your life. You looked away to stare at the lightning and clouded night sky.
Yet this Peter’s laugh tore your attention away from the sky. He had quickly looked away biting his lip to keep him from letting out another laugh.
“What?” You smiled at his weird behavior.
“Nothing, it’s- it’s nothing.” He brushed it off, but now you had to know what caused him to have a fit of giggles.
“It doesn’t seem like nothing. What is it?”
He sighed, blew a raspberry, then mustered the courage to tell you. “You uh, you still scrunch your nose when you’re uh when you space out. It’s been 3 years since I last saw you do that.” Your mouth opened and closed not knowing what to say. Peter shook his head. “It’s still adorable...”
Your heart skipped a beat hearing him say these things to do.
“I bet you miss her.” You offered him a smile.
There was a rumble and crack going off in the distance. Peter put his mask back on and looked towards the water. “Hey I’m gonna need you to stay here-” He was cut off by the rush of you colliding against his chest. He grunted as he steadied the both of you. You had hugged him. He was taken aback, but then quickly embraced you, his arms sitting on the mid of your back. You didn’t seem to protest against him tightening his hold. So he took it as a green light to let his masked face fall into the crook of your neck.
“Thank you.” He mumbled out.
“I thought you could use one.” You laughed softly. You pulled away first and stared at his masked face.
The sudden thwip sound of Peter’s web was behind you and this Peter. You turned around and laughed out in relief to see your Peter. He choked back a sob as you walked over to him and let him melt into your arms
“IthoughtIlostyou.” He mumbled into your hair.
“I’m okay.” You reassured him. “Spider-Man saved me.” You pulled back to gesture to the other Peter Parker behind you two. Your Peter finally looked up and saw himself or another version of himself at least.
“Peter meet...Peter?” You scrunched your nose. Not knowing how to go about this interaction.
“This is just-” Your Peter began.
“Weird right?” The other Peter finished.
“Yeah...Hey um, thank you, for saving her.”
“I’m just glad to know I was able to save you this time.” His words were heavy on the heart, but he truly did mean it.
“She, me? Would be proud of you, Peter.” You reassured him. Then turned to face your Peter. You laid your head on his shoulder as he held you close. “I know I am.”
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winter is a prism in reverse / colors
resembling into white
snow that illuminates
the morning / kisses the dark
needles of pine / the season
before his death / it crusted the patio
like porcelain from the plates I split
months later in my rage / all the delicate
flowers arranged in the jagged blue
and alabaster triangles / a kaleidoscope
— Brooke Matson, from “Elegy in the Form of Porcelain,” In Accelerated Silence
every breath you take (pt. 3) ❥ edward nashton
PART ONE / PART TWO
summary // riddler always has everything planned, from the moment his plot begins up until the day after it has happened. he expects himself to be able to expect everything, until his mind is taken elsewhere during a routine stakeout on the police response to his latest hit... now he finds himself, as well as the item of his affection, caught up in his issues and lust for vengeance.
warnings // OHJ GOD LMFAO, gn! smut (I SECTIONED IT, ITS UNNECESSARY TO THE PLOT SO FEEL FREE TO SKIP), typical creepiness that's consistent for this fic, switch!eddie, light choking and kinda voyeurism?, possessiveness, creampie whoops
author's note // hey besties... ur boy just dislocated his knee so sorry for the later update :,)) this one's good nd long though to make up for it.
part 4 will be the last part to this fic, so thank you for joining me along the ride. more 2 come! just kinda done with this one lolz
anyways do enjoy!! love u muah! ^^
You swear you recognize this car.
It’s not like it’s all that generic, either. A little burgundy sedan, just old enough to have one whispering to themself, “Huh, what a neat car,” but not so old that it’s antique. It lives somewhere deep in your mind that you’re not quite sure of. God, it’s familiar…
You brush it off. Maybe you just remember it from the parking lot at the press office.
You glance over at the man in the driver's seat, bathed in red light from the traffic signal overhead, to find him white-knuckled around the steering wheel and staring absently ahead through the windshield. The car ride up until now has been characterized by a loaded silence, as if there's things both of you could be saying but aren't. Granted, it has only been about a minute or so since he all but sped out of the parking lot at the hospital, but even so, that's about halfway down to Grange Street, where your car is parked.
The doctor was wise to warn you not to drive. Not only are you dead tired, nearly dozing off in the passenger side of Edward's car, on top of that your mind is still foggy from the sedatives in your system. It takes you a good couple seconds to realize the stoplight before you had changed, even while you were zoned in, unconsciously, on the bright colors.
He doesn't touch the accelerator. Instead, he just gazes blankly into the road ahead, brows furrowing.
You don't have half a mind to follow his line of sight. "Edward," you whisper, "The light's green."
He seems startled by your voice. "Oh, yeah. Sorry."
The engine hums back to life and the car rolls through the intersection, only to slow to a halt a few meters later upon reaching a police road block. So that's what he was staring at.
"I-I think I know another way around—"
He moves his grasp to the gearshift, sliding it back into reverse and throwing his arm over the back of your seat to look through the rearview window. He's leaning over the console and you can feel his warmth again, his closeness bringing with it that same electricity that you missed. The weak glow of streetlights ahead paint his skin— his face, his clavicle exposed by the loose collar of his shirt, the space where his jaw meets his neck— and he looks like a sculpture, all smooth porcelain and fine detail.
You stop him with your fingers against his chest, telling him something about seeing your car up ahead and how you could just walk over to retrieve your bag and house key to save time. He doesn't necessarily realize your exact words. All he's aware of in that moment is your touch.
Edward just nods abstractedly, and then you're getting out of the car before he can even come back to his senses. He misses you immediately. Watching your every move, something heavy in his chest tugs at him and begs to reach for you. He can't let you leave. What if you get in your car and drive off? And then he'll never see you again. It's safer for you in his car.
Shaking away the thoughts rambling on in his mind, he surveys the alleyway for anything— or anyone— that might become an issue along your walk down to your car. Even upon finding nothing, he's still tempted to get out and walk with you. Just to make sure. But he doesn't.
His eyes find you again, halfway into your car and bent over the seat as you reach for your bag. Jaw falling open just slightly, his breath hitches, neck craning forward as if it'll get him a better view. Unconsciously, he commits the scene to mind; the dip of your spine as you disappear into the vehicle, how the light from the moon and the neon OPEN sign above hits the curve of your ass, the way you sit back onto your heels to stand upright. He follows your arms as you stretch them into the air, your back arching almost impossibly and head falling back against your shoulders. He can only imagine the sound you must have made when you stretched like that, the satisfied groan leaving your lips and the sigh of content as you relaxed your body again.
You must be so sore from the hit you took, and that bed at the hospital couldn't have been comfortable. The things he'd do for you, if only you'd ask him... he knows he'd treat you so well. Every aching muscle you could possibly have, he'd be willing to rub it to relief. Anything that could inconvenience you, he'd be there to eliminate it for you. He would kill for you. It wouldn't be unreasonable to assume that he already has.
Anything, if it means you’d forgive him for the way he hurt you tonight.
But before he can indulge further in his thoughts, his passenger side door swings open and you sink down into the seat, bag in your lap. You look over at him and offer a warm smile, as if to silently say, "You can start the car now, I'm ready." And somehow, he understands, as he offers back a whisper of a grin and turns the key in the ignition.
"So, uh, where are we headed?" he asks, as if he doesn't already have your address imprinted in his memory.
And none the wiser, you tell him: "Oh, I'm in the Sycamore Apartments, over on Fifth Street." He flicks his blinker on, nodding before you even finish your sentence. The silence falls over you both again, and the clicking noise fills the car.
"Thank you for driving me home, by the way. I really appreciate it," you say, desperate to break the ice. He just waves you off as if it's the most normal thing in the world. As if you two aren't basically strangers— at least, as far as you're concerned.
"It's nothing. Really, it's for my sake. Peace of mind, I guess." Though it's dim in the car, you swear you see that tiny boyish grin again. He never did smile much. When he does, even just a little, it makes something in your chest flutter. Like you're sixteen again and passing a cute guy in the hallway.
"What," you tease, your tone thick with sarcasm, "Couldn't trust me enough to make it home on my own?"
His eyes blow wide in panic. "Oh, I— No, that's not what I meant at all! I just—"
He looks at you, his cheeks turning dark. You can't help but to laugh. He's so easy. "I was just kidding."
"Oh," he murmurs, settling back into his seat. He raises a brow, removing one hand from the steering wheel to lean his elbow on the center console, all calm and collected like. Clearing his throat, he tells you, "No yeah, absolutely. I uh, knew that from the beginning."
You chuckle again, pulling another smile from him. "Oh did you, now?"
"Yeah. What, you don't believe me?"
"No dice, Mr. Nashton."
He exhales slowly, like a content sigh. You notice his breath hitch, almost undetectably, as you shift in your seat and lean against his forearm on the console to look out the window. He swallows audibly. "You know, you really ought to stop calling me that," he mutters, turning onto Fifth Street and slowing in front of your apartment.
"Why's that?" You turn to him. The muscles in his arm tense as your skin slides against his sleeve. "I think it's got a nice ring to it."
It makes him want to press you face-first into a wall. "It makes me feel like I'm at work."
"Hm, fair enough." Collecting your bag from your lap, you sigh. You're not ready to let the moment go, uncertain of when you'll see something like this again. You two, alone in his car...
You stop yourself before you can get too deep. What, have you got a crush on him or something?
He's looking at you as if he's got something to say, eyes dropping briefly to your lips and then to where your chest meets his forearm. Your eyes, however, don't leave his face. You're so close you can watch every thought in his mind play across his features, but somehow not close enough to distinguish what any of them mean. You're stalling...
Oh, what the hell.
"Do you maybe want to come inside for a few? I think we could both use a drink after... tonight." Maybe you aren't thinking. Or maybe you are thinking, just not with your head. Either way, the thought that illuminates his face right then is clear as day— Yes.
"Are you sure? It's late..." The way he's looking at you is begging you not to change your mind. The idea sits in the way back of your head, screaming, Don't let him inside! But you've already made your decision.
"Yeah it’s late, but I'd feel bad, you know? If you drove me all the way home and I didn't even pay you back." He thinks about it for a moment, having a debate in his own mind that lasts a good few seconds. It's not long, though, until he cuts the engine and nods.
“I’d love to, actually.” Worrying now that he sounds too forward, he adds, “It’s been a while since I’ve had a good drink.”
You grin, satisfied. Trying your best to choke down the childish excitement that bubbles up in your throat, you turn from him and pull up the lock-knob on the car door. Right as you swing your legs out the open door, there he is— looking like a phantom, tall and slender against the distinct Gotham gloom— holding out his hand to help you up.
“Well, thank you,” you chirp as he raises you into the night air. “Quite the gentleman.”
He laughs through his nose. “Hardly.”
There’s a certain danger to the way he responds. Like a warning. You don’t think too much of it as you’re gliding up the metal stairway to your front door, shaky-legged and eager to get inside, but upon looking back on it later it all made much more sense.
While you’re standing there, fumbling to get your key in the lock, your gaze drifts. And your heart catches for a moment, at the sight of it. You’re sure now, Yeah, it’s definitely a crush.
There he is, climbing the steps up to your front porch, blond hair askew and falling into his face as he’s careful not to slip. You turn back quickly, plunging the key in. The lock clicks and you disappear inside.
“It’s a bit of a mess,” you admit, hurrying to gather your coat from the back of the couch and stow away the empty takeout box on the end table. “I wasn’t really expecting anyone.”
He chuckles, something quiet and gentle, but still it rings through the small room. Shutting the door behind him, he assures you his place is worse. Your guest glances around, taking in the color of the walls and what covers them, and what’s on the tables and how you didn’t seem to know how to close a set of blinds to save your soul. Committing it all to memory. So this is how it looks from the inside. There’s that picture he always sees through the window.
“You can have a seat, if you’d like.” You brush past him as he’s looming awkwardly in the doorway. “What, uh… what do you drink?”
He trails you into the kitchenette, dropping into a chair just beside the counter. Reaching up to the cabinet above the table where he’s sat, you find yourself nearly leaning over him to get to the alcohol. He peers up at the shelves as you pry open the wooden door— it’s been a while since you’ve dug into it.
Crown Royal. Shitty vodka from your friend, a housewarming gift. Cognac you brought to a party a couple months back, and returned home with, unopened. Your collection was slim, but you assured him, “I’ve got wine in the fridge as well, if you’re interested.”
“May I have a glass of wine?”
You look down at him. And he’s gazing up at you, eyes soft. So polite. “Of course, that would have been my choice as well.”
He smiles again. He’ll remember that.
He likes this view of you. Leaning into the fridge, hunting for something, brows furrowed. There’s something domestic about it. And while he realizes it’s just a fantasy, in the moment you’re finding the wine he allows himself to slip into a world where you both are here, together, coming home from work and settling in for a drink. One where he’d make dinner and let you rest in his lap on the couch afterward. You’d fall asleep together, wake together, over again…
The sound of glass colliding with cheap marble yanks him from his thoughts. There you are again, just inches from him, pressed against the countertop as you concentrate on pouring the wine. Careful not to spill and stain the surface. He always loved how you looked when you focused.
Once both glasses are half-full, he rises and takes one in his hand. “Thank you,” he hums, and he raises the glass to his lips for a leisurely sip. You don’t realize his eyes locked on you while you stare, his mouth forming perfectly around the rim of the glass. Catching yourself, you glance away.
“No need to thank me. It’s the least I could do.” You settle beside him, hopping up to sit on the counter while he leans his hip against its edge. Chuckling, you remind him, “The wine isn’t even that great.”
You don’t trust yourself to hold the glass, so you release it from your shaking hand to the surface beside you. “Oh, I’m not picky,” he all but whispers. “Besides, it’s not every night I get to drink with friends. I’d be stupid to complain.”
You huff out a sarcastic breath. “It’s not every night my boss is in my apartment, either.” You meet his eyes again. He’s holding you there, and he’s not even touching you. His eyes have gone stoic.
You’re pressed between him and his desk. Holding each others’ gaze, waiting to see who breaks first. Testing the waters. How far can we push it?
“I suppose I’m not complaining either, though,” you add. There’s a beat of silence as he ponders his next words, eyebrows raising as he takes another lazy sip from his glass.
“Since when am I your boss?”
You feel your cheeks warming, and finally you look away. “Well, maybe that wasn’t really the word for it, but you know what I mean. You’re definitely my superior, but I guess you’re not really my boss— that would be a little weird, actually, you don’t really seem like the boss type…”
Amidst your rambling, he mutters, “It would certainly complicate things.”
And you pause. He furrows his brows, as if he wasn’t expecting you to hear that. A hint of panic splashes across his face.
“Complicate things?” you urge him.
He shakes his head, beginning to turn away. “It’s nothing.”
“No.” You reach for him, fingers curling around the loose fabric of his sleeve. He tenses, his body stuttering for a second, but he doesn’t leave. He stays there, right where you hold him. “What did you mean?”
A doe-eyed stare falls on you again as he cranes his neck over his shoulder to look at you. And there you are. Locked in eye contact again, silently challenging one another as the room becomes pressurized. Pressing you two together until someone breaks. You feel his muscles tensing and untensing beneath your fingertips as he chooses his words.
I just want a straight-forward answer, Edward.
“It’s just a bit strange for someone’s… superior, to be in their home this late, no?”
“I thought you said you weren’t complaining.”
Your breath is speeding up. You’re sure he notices, because his is speeding up, too. He turns back to you again, this time bringing him so close to you that you feel the chill of his belt against the skin of your outer thigh through your clothes. It sets your senses alight, your entire body tingling to attention at the slightest touch. And there it is again, that hand coming down to post on the edge of the countertop beside you, keeping you tucked between him and something so suffocatingly unmovable for the second time that month. Except this time, his confidence is dormant. He’s all whispers and soft linen, his bottom lip stained red.
“I’m not,” he murmurs. Head tilted forward, even with his hair falling down into his face, his eyes still gleam in the dim light from the kitchen lamp as he looks down at you. You can almost feel his breath on your face as he continues, almost silently, breathlessly, “I told you. I would be stupid to complain.”
Your back is arching into him instinctually. The need for him is primal, unlike any way you’ve ever needed someone prior. Your eyes are resting on his lips, recalling how they pursed around the glass, curled into a gentle smile, caught between his teeth sometimes when he’d think. Wondering if you could taste the wine on his tongue. He’d make it taste so good.
His jaw hangs as he exhales a shaky breath, leaning in further to place his glass down next to yours, right behind your far hip. He doesn’t draw back his hand. His hair, stringy and soft, tickles your forehead. His entire body is close. Close enough you could almost feel his lashes against your skin as his eyelids fall slowly shut. Hesitantly, he maneuvers his hips to slink between your knees, quick to return to that sphere of closeness you both have created.
You’re hardly breathing. Feeling weightless on your perch at the counter, you brace your palm against his warm chest to keep your balance. His heart pounds mercilessly against the skin. Trailing upward, you gently brush the hair from his face.
How far could you push it?
Your lips meet. Featherlight at first, but he doesn’t last long. His hands curl around your hips, drawing you against his body as your own rest against his arms, in his hair, anywhere you can find purchase. The pain in your finger is long forgotten against the sensation of him.
It’s open mouthed, sloppy and desperate. Small noises and wandering hands. It’s nothing like he’d ever imagined it would be. In a way, that only serves to excite him further.
His lips are chapped, but they’re warm and wet nonetheless and he kisses you as if you’re fresh air and he’s been drowning. His embrace is possessive. He tugs you into himself and groans something guttural, animalistic. He’s never letting go.
His mouth moves eagerly and without expertise, small sounds escaping the back of his throat as you press further into him. His touch slides tentatively up your back, only to crash back against the marble as he collapses into the dip of your shoulder. His ministrations don’t stop, and he probes the delicate skin beside your throat with his lips and tongue. Incoherent, he’s a mess, sobbing into your body how beautiful you are, how scared he’s been, how badly he needs you.
Please, please, he needs you. He needs you so badly his entire body aches. He’ll do anything. He knows it’s wrong, and he knows he shouldn’t want this, but he’s been so hungry for you for so long and it’s all he ever thinks about when he sees you.
You pry him away from your neck, which is now raw and likely marred by his ravenous mouth, by getting a fistful of his hair and tugging. The sound that leaves him is inexcusable, whining desperately like a bitch in heat, but all is made right again when you caress his face and thumb at his swollen lips.
His pupils are blown to saucers, peering down at you unwaveringly as he looms between your legs. Knowing well he’s hanging on your every word, you ask him softly, directly, “Do you want this?”
His face contorts like he’s about to cry. He sinks into your touch, burying his face in your palm, nodding frantically. “I do. M’want it, so bad… I need…”
“What do you need, Eddie?”
He sucks in a shaky breath. Eddie. He liked that. “You. You, you… I want to feel you, I’ve been thinking about you so long…”
You figure he could tell you about that later. For now, you guide his face back to your lips again, and whisper against his mouth.
X X X
For being long and lean, he’s stronger than you expected. He sweeps you from the countertop with ease and hauls you off down the hall, hands planted firmly underneath your thighs to hold you tight against him.
You don’t remember telling him where your bedroom was. Once you lock your legs around his back and feel his hips— and something else— grinding right into where you need him, though, you can’t really bring yourself to mind.
Edward turns to nudge open the door with his shoulder, and he doesn’t even bother closing it. He’s too preoccupied with bracing his forearm against your back and laying you gently against your blankets, letting you down so easy he must have thought you’d break at the slightest touch. His body doesn’t separate from you. All of his weight is on top of you, around you, firmly against you. Your legs still curl snugly around him, with his face in your chest and his hands drifting up your thighs.
His hips are already rutting into you, restricted by the clothes that still, to his dismay, divide your bodies. The incessant throbbing between his legs tells him that he would have been perfectly content, had you told him to, to grind against you like a puppy until he got off, but once you tug at the back of his shirt collar he’s just as eager to be free of it.
He fumbles with the buttons on the sleeves, whimpering in frustration when they don’t come undone. “Here,” you prod. You take them between your fingers to help him, to guide him. Like Edward, they come undone quickly beneath your skilled touch.
Not even bothering with the buttons along the front, he yanks it over his head and discards it somewhere off the bedside. You glance in its general direction, but instead you’re greeted by the city staring back at you through the wide-open window.
“Edward,” you push at his shoulder, but he’s engulfed in kissing at your neck again. The most you get is a distracted hum. Squirming, you tell him, “We gotta close the window—“
“No.” He posts up on his elbows to get a look at your face, and his eyes are wild as they land on you. A surge of ferocity rips through him, uncharacteristic compared to how he was writhing against you not moments ago. “I don’t give a fuck who sees. Hell, they can watch. So they’ll all know.”
Let them all watch him as he makes you his. As he drives his dick so deep into you that he can be certain no one else will ever fill you so well again. And when you inevitably wake up tomorrow and dress for work, and try your best to cover his marks and bruises all over your neck with makeup or jewelry, let them peek out in the spots you missed and remind everyone in the office you’re not to be touched. Not to be looked at. Not even to occupy space in another’s mind.
He’s back on you in an instant, tugging on your belt and then sliding down your body to rid you of your bottoms. His breath, hot and heavy, cascades against your inner thigh as he rests his face against it. Eyes closed, he nips at the supple flesh with his open mouth. The warm hand returns to busy itself with squeezing at your opposite leg.
Your fingers tangle in his hair, trying to draw him closer to where you need him. You lift your hips so he can remove your underwear. He dips his head between your thighs, mind going foggy as he takes you in.
A soft mouth accepts you without prompt. His tongue moves against you eagerly, lapping at the nectar that drips from your heat. Your head falls back against the pillows, losing yourself in the wet euphoria he gives you and the muffled noises he makes as he all but suffocates on you.
He doesn’t need to breathe. He’d never been so hungry— never had something so sweet ever graced his tongue. If he choked there, in between your thighs, he’s sure he’d have spent his afterlife bragging.
He lifts his head with a greedy inhale, filling his lungs as he was just starting to get lightheaded. Spit, among other things, coats his lips and the corners of his mouth, and his hair is disheveled from your pawing at it. The smile on his face is unlike any you’ve seen before— something adjacent to deranged. Manic. He’s just getting started.
“I’ve spent so long wondering how you taste,” he whines, rising into all fours to return to his place on top of you. He sits back on his haunches right between your spread legs, the dusting of blond hair on his chest catching the moonlight as his muscles move beneath the skin. The darkness of the room beyond him frames his body, but he seems to glow above you, humming with energy, while he undoes his belt.
His words finally register in your head. “You have?” you affirm weakly, finding it hard to breathe. The smile only widens, tongue pressing insolently against his bottom teeth.
Slipping out of his trousers and briefs, he leans over you again, pressing his nose into your temple. “You’re better than I could have ever imagined," he whispers, taking the hem of your shirt between his fingers. You get the hint. “I don’t know how I’ve possibly kept myself away this long.”
A shuttering groan escapes from deep within his throat just at the sight of you. Now completely bare, you let the shirt fall from your fingers, raising your arms above your head to toss it to the floor. His hands follow, pinning your wrists.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to again.”
You feel it. Warm and thick, pressing into your thigh. His head drops to the crook of your neck. By instinct, you let your legs drift further apart, all but inviting him inside.
He moves his hips at an excruciating pace, sliding his dick slowly against your skin, so close to where you need him. Every so often, he loses control, his hips bucking forward despite his best efforts. You squirm beneath him, mumbling desperately, dumb from arousal— “Please, Eddie”— but he doesn’t relent. His grip around your wrist only tightens.
“Say it. I need to hear you say it.” Holding you down with one hand, he hooks the other under your knee to poise his dick right against your hole. Barely breaking the surface.
Your mind is reeling. “Please!”
“As nice as you sound when you beg,” he quips, panting, “I want you to tell me you’re mine. I need… I need to hear it. Need to.” His fingers dig into your thigh. “Say it. Who do you belong to?”
What little composure he had before is long lost. His entire body trembles above you, like a live wire about to erupt into flames. His cock jumps against your skin, aching to be inside.
“You—!” Your breath is cut short. The stretch that burns between your legs makes your entire body feel limp, giving itself to his touch as he shapes you around his dick.
“Oh my god,” he breathes. Only making it halfway inside before you clench around him, he slides back out to the tip. He releases your wrists, setting you free to let your hands roam again, and slides his arms around your waist as he holds you down onto his cock. Teeth scrape against your throat, weakly resisting the urge to bite down.
His thrusts soon become erratic and quick, reaching deeper inside of you than you ever thought possible and breeding you like a rabbit. Whining, babbling incoherently, gazing at you thoughtlessly, his eyes are lidded— Mine, mine, mine.
“Feels so fucking… oh god, so tight…”
Your fingers tangle into his hair, holding on for any essence of control. Tightening your grip into a fist, you feel his jaw fall open in a silent scream. The mewl that escapes him is pathetic. He likes that. He loves that.
"That feel good, Eddie?" It leaves your lips like honey. He nods fervently into your neck, abandoning the air of dominance he'd played with earlier. The warm body above you, inside you, melts into your touch, offering himself to you. Begging you to take him.
And you do.
It comes naturally, telling him how good he feels, how good he is for you, good, good, good. The bruising rhythm of his hips falters as he loses himself in your praise, mumbling things you couldn't understand and heating the skin of your bare chest with his breath.
You give him another tug. He yelps, his dick stilling within you while you hold his head up to face you by his hair. Glossy eyed, you swear there's tears sliding down his cheeks. Pathetic.
"What happened, baby?" You clench around him, just to hear him squeal. He does. "Not so big and strong anymore, huh? What happened to all that confidence?"
His face twists, and a small sob wracks his frame. He goes to return his face to the crook of your neck, but he's stopped by another yank to his hair.
"Use your words, honey. Why are you crying?" A tinge of worry invades your question, but something in you screams in delight at the way you've broken him. At just how easy it was.
There's so much he could say. How he never believed he'd get this far. He could tell you just how many nights he'd spent, dick deep in his fist, thinking about this, and how he can't even contain himself now that it's finally happening. How he's waiting to wake up from this cruel dream to an inevitable wet spot of cum on his mattress, as he has done frequently in the past. The way he needs you right now, to fill you and let you claim him, to hear you decide he's worthy of even the littlest passing thought. To beg you to use him if it means he can take up space in your mind. He wants to sink into the softness of your skin and let you hold him there. How the second he felt you squeezing his dick, he vowed never to leave your bedsheets— he'd stay there, in your bed, waiting for you all day until you return home so he can lay in your arms again like a lapdog. He'd let you whore him out for your own pleasure. Reduce himself for a warm body for you to use if it means he got to be yours.
He can’t bring himself to say it. Instead, he opts for a weak whimper as he tells you, "Need you..."
It wasn't a lie. In this moment, you're the oxygen he breathes— the only thing registering in his mind is how your body moves against his. Committing it to memory for when he inevitably has to let you go. Once you wake up tomorrow and realize who you've taken to bed. The way you'll look at him—or not look at him, even worse— in the days to come. The crushing reality that he will have to return to his spot across the street and observe you from your window again, teased by the events of tonight and the remnants of your touch on his skin.
But you're facing him now, picking apart his expression with eyes unwavering, glowing with adoration. Fully aware and generally sober, you know it's Edward Nashton.
You see him.
He's pulled back to reality by the breathiness of your voice, whispering to him, Oh, come here, baby. The voice from his dreams calling to him again.
Without hesitance, he collapses back into you. His hands squeeze your hips, anchoring you to him as his hips pick up in speed.
His dick slides against your walls with ease, and you feel him twitching inside of you. You caress his back, coaxing him toward his release, chasing your own. He moans softly, mindlessly, " 'm gonna cum..."
The weight of his body lifts away from you, just barely enough to make space for his fingers to snake between your bodies and stroke you. "Cum with me," he begs, "Please, I wanna... wanna make you feel good."
Feeling the coil deep in your belly, you dig your nails into his shoulderblades and buck your hips into his touch. It doesn't take long, between his mewling in your ear and the heat of his fingers against the sensitive skin between your legs, until you're almost there, clinging to him and clenching unwillingly around his cock.
"Eddie, I'm close—"
"Please cum, please, please... oh, my god, I wanna— I wanna see you." He posts on his elbow so his face hovers above yours, your breath mingling with his and making you dizzy.
You bring your trembling palm against his cheek. He watches your eyes roll back into your skull as your release washes over you, your entire body jolting with the force of it. The low groan that leaves you sends him toppling over his own edge, burying himself deep within you and spilling himself into your body. He lets his forehead fall against yours, a thin veil of sweat dampening his skin. The room fades into a half-awake sort of silence as each of you breathe each other's air, recovering.
When you open your eyes again after a long moment of basking in his closeness, and your own fullness, you find him already gazing down at you. The look in his eyes isn't any different from ones you've received in the past, but this time, it makes sense.
Desire. Unadulterated need. Infatuation.
With the hand on his cheek, you guide his lips down to yours. The kiss is nothing like your first of the evening. It's slow, languid, offering you both time to truly taste one another. To become one entity, joined at the mouth, for a brief time until you both come up for air and he collapses against the mattress beside you.
The moonlight plays on his features, sending shadows that frame his face like he’s Renaissance art. Suddenly he's bashful again, toying with your fingers as he asks you, "Should I let you get to sleep?"
You intertwine your hand with his.
PART FOUR SOON
𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐒, m | KJN
⊹ backstory: when jennie decides to send you scandalous texts on your workphone, the consequences of her actions ended up being more than what she bargained for.
⊹ pairings: kim jennie x f!reader
⊹ genre: pwp | smut
⊹ word count: 1.8k words
⊹ warnings: dom!reader, sub!jennie, profanity, dom-sub themes, bondage, pussy slapping, edging, usage of a spreader bar and strap-ons, multiple orgasms
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍, practically shaking the entire foundation of the mansion from where the wood hit the wall. Jennie almost dropped her phone at the noise, scrambling through her room in search of a large shirt to cover up her near nakedness.
Though she was aware of the fact that there was no point in doing so, and that the damage had been done, Jennie knew from prior experience that there was no point in pushing you beyond a limit.
She barely had time to pull the fabric of the shirt past her thighs before you slammed through the door, the sheer intensity of the anger in your eyes making her gasp. Throwing your phone on the large king sized bed that Jennie had been lounging on, she watched you stalk towards the large dresser tucked in the corner of the room and pull open the last drawer.
Her pussy clenched in anticipation knowing exactly what the space held as she subtly rubbed her thighs together. Your silence only accelerated the rate at which her heart was pounding, stoic face revealing nothing. Large hand holding two familiar black objects, you haphazardly tossed them onto the mattress beside your phone.
"On your knees." Your voice was a raspy hiss while you unzipped your slacks. Jennie immediately scrambled into position, cat-like eyes intently watching the motion as she reached out and pawed at the soft material of your clothing.
With your affirmative nod, her mouth latched onto your clit, pink tongue prodding your folds just the way you liked. Your head tilted back, left arm supporting your weight while your right hand tangled through the locks of her hair. Moaning at the sensation, you gripped her hair and pushed her mouth further between your legs as you chased the release you desperately craved after the long day.
You knew giving Jennie your phone number from work was a bad idea. "This is only for emergencies" you explained while feeding in the digits to her phone, missing the playful twitch of her lips.
"I promise I won't use it for anything else" She vowed with a suspiciously innocent face, tugging at her bottom lip. It was only 24 hours later did you realize you'd underestimated how much of a menace your girlfriend could be. The last thing you expected in the middle of an important meeting was for your phone to blow up with multiple texts from her, ranging from dirty voice messages to pictures of her in skimpy clothing.
The conference dragged on, your anger only flaring with each passing minute until you had practically thrown yourself out of the room and sped straight home where you would teach her a lesson.
The lesson would come, but you needed to be clear headed first for that to happen. Rocking your hips into her face for a well deserved orgasm, her little whimpers against your pussy were all it took for the vibrations to drive you over the edge; pelvis jerking as you came into her mouth.
Jennie lapped up your juices obediently, a satisfied smile on her face with how the evening turned out. It had been quite a while since you'd sought her out for pleasure and she was happy to finally come of assistance. Thinking this was all you needed, she stood up and planned on cleaning up the small mess of clothes and extra stuff around before getting started on dinner.
You raised an eyebrow. "Where do you think you're going? I'm not done with you yet."
Spotting the surprise on her face, you smirked condescendingly. "Did you actually think I was going to let you off after what you did without a lesson?"
"But nothing." You scoffed. "I specifically told you not to text me in case of emergencies, and what did you do?" Getting up and stalking around her, you rid yourself of the rest of your clothes. "Take everything off and lie down."
Jennie complied, heart pounding as she pulled off the oversized shirt revealing a skimpy black lingerie set; the lace material leaving practically nothing hidden from the eye. Slowly, she reached behind and unhooked the bralette, pushing the straps off her shoulders and down her arms, revealing her breasts.
Discarding the fabric, she hooked her fingers around the straps of her thong and dragged them down the apex of her milky thighs. You watched the cloth slightly stick to the juncture between her thighs before peeling away and dropping to the floor.
Her face was flushed as she glanced at you momentarily. The cheeky glint in her eye was back. Climbing on the bed, she made sure to flash you an eyeful of her soaked, pink cunt before lying down on her back with her legs spread out.
You grabbed the spreader bar and secured it around her ankles before bounding her wrists to the extension on your headboard that you had installed. She playfully nipped at your chest while you were doing so and you shot her a glare. Climbing onto her awaiting body you kissed her hungrily, the taste of your juices still on her lips. Hand trailing past her cheek, your fingers dipped further, pinching her nipples and groping her breasts as she whimpered into your mouth.
You groaned at the feeling of Jennie's soft skin in your palms; the sensation being something you would never get tired of. You loved the sounds she made, her expressions ― you were absolutely crazy in love with everything about her.
She released a choked moan when your fingers came in contact with her dripping cunt, her arousal staining the inside of her thighs and dribbling down her ass; wetting the sheets beneath her. Without thinking twice you plunged a finger inside the tight ring of muscles, the walls of her pussy clamping around your digits in a vice grip. You both moaned in sync as you pumped your fingers in and out of her a couple of times before adding a second one. Despite your prior orgasm, you could feel a familiar heat pool at the pit of your stomach at the sight of your girlfriend being a moaning mess underneath you.
"So fucking tight and wet." You hissed, increasing your pace as she struggled against the restraints. Knees quivering, the spreader bar did a great job of holding her legs open for you while you fingered her, the walls of her pussy practically sucking you in.
A clear coat of her juices covered your hand, dripping down your wrist as she keened at the slight burn in her cunt from how you stretched her out. Jennie babbled incoherently, your name being wailed repeatedly like a mantra while you drove her to the brink of an orgasm with your ministrations. It was only when she felt you hit a spot inside her that left her preening, did she arch her back and cry out.
"Yes - please... just like that!" She cried, tears gathering in her waterline as her cunt quivered with an impending orgasm. "I'm so close!"
Her eyes fluttered shut in ecstasy as the coil in the pit of her stomach nearly snapped, missing the cruel smirk tugging at your lips. It was only when you felt her walls flutter around you, did you withdraw your hand, watching her body jolt from the shock. Tears dripped down her face as she howled out your name, betrayal lacing her tone. Instead you watched her hips jerk upwards, swollen cunt clenching desperately around nothing while the remnants of her orgasm ebbed away.
You chuckled at the annoyed look on her face, hissing cusses underneath her breath (your name being one of them) as she tugged at the handcuffs angrily.
"Are you forgetting the fact that you're being punished?" You asked, landing a harsh smack against her puffy folds. "Or do I have to do everything again?"
"I'm sorry!" She gasped, hips jerking as you slapped her pussy once more. "Oh god, please do that again - please."
"My pleasure." You smirked, repeating the motion.
Mouth watering at the sight of her abused cunt, you dipped down and surprised her by licking a long stripe from her ass to the hood her clit. Your fingers sunk into the flesh of her thighs when she whimpered, mouth hollowing around her clit and sucking. Jennie sobbed, hips rutting into your mouth as you swirled your tongue around her swollen clit before trailing down and prodding at her entrance. She tasted so sweet that after a couple of moments you couldn't help but lap at her cunt desperately, punishments forgotten. Your nose nudged her sensitive clit with every slurp and her thighs quivered when your drove your tongue inside her hole for more.
She could feel her orgasm slowly build once more, faster since she had been denied one previously.
"I'm coming!" She cried out, when you slipped a finger inside her and scissored her sopping cunt open.
"Come for me." You ordered, teeth lightly scraping her cunt as the motion drove her over the edge. Desperately rutting against your face, she squirted all over your mouth while you drank it all up hungrily, pressing your face hard between her legs and licking until she had rode out her orgasm.
Jennie was breathing hard, eyes unfocused, chest rising and falling rapidly as a sheen of sweat covered her body. Her hair was splayed out around her head and her makeup was smudged, yet she looked like the most beautiful of angels in your eyes.
Letting her recover from the event, you strapped on the vibrating toy and hovered over her once more while rubbing the bulbous head up and down her folds.
"Can you give me one more?" You asked, gouging her reaction. You were aware of her limits and although you knew she could take more, it had been a while since your last time together and you didn't want to push her.
"Yeah..." She panted, hips weakly rocking into yours. "One more."
Once her breathing had slightly slowed down, you pushed the dildo inside her abused cunt, moaning in sync as you had buried the cock deep into her cervix. The vibrations against your clit made you groan while Jennie whimpered at the feeling of the large toy stretching her out. You rocked your hips while thrusting in and out of her, your pace gradually increasing. The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breaths along with the wet slapping of your hips against hers.
Her tits bounced with every thrust, pebbled nipples rubbing against your chest. You felt your high approaching for the second time, nose buried in her neck while you sucked bruises into her soft skin, sweat dripping down your forehead.
"I'm close!" She sobbed, thighs quivering while her legs weakly struggled against the restraints. "Fuck fuck fuuuck ―"
Both of you groaned with a final snap, knees turning to jelly before you collapsed on top of her tired frame, riding out your climax. Taking a few moments to regain your strength, you rolled off of her and undid the restraints. You pulled her body towards yours and nestled Jennie in your hold, whispering sweet nothings into her ears as the two of you fell asleep.
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In Accelerated Silence, Brooke Matson
Could I please have a Scaramouche, Childe, Diluc, and Kaeya, if darling asks for a baby. Reason doesn’t matter (humanizing them, giving up, loneliness, etc.)
Warning for some not SFW themes below !!
He'll be carrying you to the bedroom bridal style before the words can finish leaving your lips. Playing house was his favorite game when he was a kid — he hasn't grown out of enjoying it as an adult. Due to assisting his younger siblings, he doesn't view raising children through a rose-tinted lens. What he is a little over-optimistic about is your feelings on him changing for the better during the pregnancy/birth. Childe is lucid enough of himself to know you might not be aware of just how big a commitment this is, but hey, hormones and all that do some fun things in the brain from what he's heard. You'll be a loving spouse in no time! This should help accelerate the process. Maternal instinct should make you more inclined to rely on him, perhaps make you view him as a crucial caregiver? Yes? No? Maybe so? He hopes that's how it'll work, anyway.
Diluc's initial reaction is one of pure, unadulterated shock. It takes a special concoction to stupefy the master of Dawn Winery into silence. He'd ask you to repeat yourself, and if you do, he'll go back to mulling things over. It's not that the prospect doesn't thrill him, being the father of your child is quite possibly the best concept he's ever heard of, but are you... prepared for that? He's seen the melancholic way you gaze out the manor's windows, the absent look in your eyes, how you shuffle about listlessly from room to room. He'll have to think about it a lot before he gives an answer. The risks to your health are what concern him the most. There are complications related to childbirth, postpartum depression, just so many things that could go wrong. His ultimate goal is to protect you and keep you safe. Thus, he pushes his wants aside to focus on whether or not it's a good idea to agree.
Kaeya might think you're messing with him at first. He adores teasing you, playing mind games, picking your brain, all that fun stuff. Is this how you're returning the favor? When he realizes that no, you're quite serious, he tries to wave it off. He's more dismissive about it than you expected. While he'd enjoy the making the kid part, the rest of the experience is honestly horrifying to him. His father abandoned him and so did his adopted father, in some ways. There's a lot of unresolved trauma going on there. He'd start brooding about the past for the rest of the evening. Children are the most undeserving victims to the world's evil, he believes. Kaeya figures you're just looking for a sense of fulfillment and that you don't even know the weight of what you asked him for. So he'll reject your request the next time you bring it up.
His first internal question to himself is, "Can I even biologically do that...?"
However, there's no way he's going to voice that doubt to you, who is standing before his desk patiently awaiting his answer. Scaramouche is genuinely caught off guard by your request. This is what humans do when they love their husband... right? He's witnessed many smiling, happy families when he used to wander Inazuma aimlessly. The sight filled his chest with caustic bitterness. Especially when it was a mother playing with her young son, the little bastard, giggling and all that, not knowing just how lucky he is—
Anyway, he can sulk later. He'll give you the simple response of, "Alright." The same reply you receive when you've been acting good and ask for a new tea set or something similar. It's likely that Scaramouche doesn't understand just how much of a commitment raising a child is, he's more interested in getting you attached to him. You can handle the thing when it cries.
Just A Little Late
Steve Rogers x Avenger!Fem!Reader
Summary: He was only five minutes away, but are those the five minutes which prevents him from saving you?
Prompt: “Are you awake? Oh my god I was so worried, holy shit I thought I was going to lose you.” - in bold
Warnings: angst cause I can’t help myself, explosion, belief of main character death, blood, severe injuries to reader, hospitals, happy ending
Word count: 3.3k
A/N: I wrote this for @moongoddessmox’s 2.1k + Valentine’s Day Event! (although it’s by far not your traditional fluffy Valentine’s fic)
This was specifically written for/dedicated to my bestie, my angst sister, @babybluebuck I love you Bee, I hope you know just how much of a treasure you are ❤️ Happy Valentine’s Day my love (you know me too well to know I ain’t giving you a fluffy Valentine’s fic, got to endure the angst first)
Dividers by @maysdigitalarts
Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library
The illuminated GPS in the centre console confirmed their ETA was five minutes.
A measly 300 seconds.
“I’m going in.” Steve’s heart plummeted through the leather seat of the SUV.
“We’re almost there. Wait for backup.” He demanded into the comms nestled in his ear. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, turning his knuckles white, his foot pressing the accelerator even closer to the floor of the car.
He felt the piercing, knowing, stare of Natasha from the passenger seat boring into his skull, but he refused to acknowledge the connotation of it with a return glance, instead keeping his eyes intently focussed on the road.
He should have been with you. Well, maybe that was a bit of a stretch as it was conditional on your acceptance, but if he hadn't chickened out of asking you to Valentine’s Day dinner like he had been building the courage for the week prior, you might be currently at your favourite restaurant enjoying a few laughs, and if he was lucky maybe a kiss as well, instead of making it to the laboratory before the rest of the team.
“Cap, you know you’d do it if you were in my position.” Your austere voice stated through the transmission.
Steve didn’t have a response to this. Even though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, you were right. You were always right. He wouldn't hesitate to run into danger without a second thought for his own safety at the chance to save a life.
The protectiveness which always surged within him when you were around was now exploding like fireworks in his chest. He knew you were more than capable of defending yourself, yet the thought of you entering that building alone, facing unknown threats, with no one to watch your back, had him almost paralysed with fear at the wheel.
His instincts were telling him something was off.
“She can handle herself.” Nat assured after a minute of silence within the car.
Before speaking, Steve navigated a corner at high speed, expertly turning the wheel and using the brakes in tandem so he didn’t crash into the oncoming traffic in the adjacent lanes. He slammed the accelerator to the floor again once they were on the straightened road.
“I know that.”
“We’ll be there in a couple minutes, then she won’t be alone.” Nat’s voice was too tranquil for Steve’s liking - it completely contrasted the severe anxiety swirling in his chest. After a long beat, she spoke again. “Look, I know you’re in love with her, but-”
“What? No I’m not!” Dire denial coated his words but Nat simply scoffed, she had always told him he was a bad liar.
“You say that as if you don’t follow her around like a lost puppy and look at her like she holds your entire world in her hands.” He could hear the smirk in her voice, which irritated him. It was now the second time in as many minutes that another avenger had proved him wrong, rendering him speechless. “Why do you think I stopped trying to set you up?”
Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t noticed.
He either spent his time with you, or thinking about you, perhaps he had been too distracted to observe the change in Nat’s behaviour.
“Once we finish up here, you should ask her out. I’m pretty sure she has a thing for you too if the way her face lights up when you walk into a room is anything to go by.”
Steve didn’t even have time to register Nat’s words, nor the way warmth would have spread through his entire chest at the notion that you reciprocated even a fraction of his feelings for you - a sound as loud as a sonic boom temporarily deafened him.
The laboratory, which they were now only a minute away from and could see directly in front of them, quaked harshly, warm orange fire and smoke rapidly billowed out of the structure as the blast of the explosion reverberated through the entire city, knocking their vehicle into a spin.
Steve stared at the crumbling building once he regained control of the car, a hole the size of a bowling ball ripped through his chest when he thought about you, the person who he wanted to protect above all else, being alone as the detonation went off, your fragile body tossed around by the explosion as he helplessly watched on as the building when up in flames.
“Y/N, do you copy?” Steve’s heart thumped ferociously against his rib cage. All air ejected from his lungs and suddenly the effort to take even a single breath seemed excruciating. The infuriating crackle of static from the comms only tightened the burning constriction in his chest, and for much longer than was safe, completely forgot he was in control of a vehicle travelling at a speed double the limit.
His hands trembled against the steering wheel. With his super senses, he could feel every torturous microsecond pass that you didn’t reply, frames of time in slow motion ticking over as the car sped along as he was all but powerless to observe the disintegrating building, which you were somewhere within.
If only you had waited for them prior to entering.
“Y/N?” This time his voice was gentler, pleading, begging that he would miraculously hear your soothing voice responding on the other end, even though the logical part of his brain told him it wouldn’t come.
And though he wanted to be proved wrong yet again, this time he wasn't.
Frustration and desolation reached boiling point in Steve’s chest, resulting in him swearing loudly, so vehemently that Natasha actually jumped in her seat beside him. Taking the small device from his ear, he crushed it between his bare fingers before letting the fragments drop to the floor.
Natasha took a shaky breath before speaking.
“Our mission is still Dr Cho and her research.” Steve couldn’t believe Nat, who had spent more time with you than anyone, besides perhaps himself, was completely ignoring the rather obvious fact that you were in that building too.
He couldn’t find it in himself to care about some damn research. Nor about some mission which he knew others could focus on completing. He needed to find you. That was his mission.
“Nat if you think I’m not bringing Y/N/N out with me-”
“Steve, I know. But Y/N knew what she was signing up for. The assignment is the research - that’s what she went in there looking for.” It was now Steve’s turn to scoff - the knowledge that you had been put in danger, hurt, probably killed, for the sole reason of finding this research, made him resent it and, if possible, care even less about finding it.
The vehicle came to a screeching stop beside the building. Steve put the car in park, pulled up the handbrake but didn’t even take the time to turn off the ignition before essentially leaping out the open door.
He was coming to find you. Consequences and his own safety be damned.
He just prayed he wasn’t too late.
* * *
The first thing you remember was spluttering as thick, particle polluted air entered your lungs.
When you opened your eyes, you found the world spinning. A persistent ringing filled your ears as you tried to focus your pupils and balance yourself on the debris-covered floor which was swaying like a boat on rough seas.
Your stomach churned, a nauseous feeling rising up your digestive system as you futilely attempted to steady yourself. Searching your foggy brain, for the life of you you couldn’t remember where exactly you were or why you were here, in the remnants of what looked like it had at one point been a medical laboratory, but was now covered in rubble and slabs of concrete from the destroyed ceiling.
On hands and knees, you started crawling to where beams of sunlight shone between the wreckage, the exposed skin beneath your torn clothing began to sting as fresh cuts mixed with the dirt and shattered glass littering the floor. Through your dizzy haze, and the dusty cloud of debris, you could see someone approaching at a run.
You’d recognise that fiery red hair anywhere.
A sense of calm washed over you despite the devastating scene. Natasha Romanoff always knew what to do - she had an uncanny ability to form a plan on the fly, escaping danger at an almost comical eleventh-hour and brush it off after the fact as if nothing even remotely disconcerting happened. But as she neared, all you could notice was the unfamiliar panic consuming her eyes.
Her mouth was moving, but the only sound you could hear was tinnitus, the ringing so unwelcomely repetitive it was making your head throb. Or perhaps, you considered, that might be a concussion caused by whatever explosion had seemingly occurred before your memory kicked in.
Bending down beside you, Nat’s hands quickly found their way to your abdomen in what you initially thought was an attempt to pull you to your feet, but you soon realised was for a much more dire reason.
White hot panic tightened your chest as you looked down to where Nat now applied strenuous pressure, observing a rusty metal shard protruding from your abdomen. Attributing the previous numbness to the adrenaline running through your system, as soon as your eyes landed on the foreign object puncturing your tender skin, and the blood spilling out of the wound at an alarming rate, your body seized in pain.
Nat caught you in her arms before you had the opportunity to face plant into the ground. One of her dainty hands framed the shard of metal, applying force in an attempt to stem your bleeding, as the other snaked under your arm to keep you upright, carefully stepping around the wreckage, heading towards the sunlight outside.
But you knew without some help, you wouldn’t be able to escape the crumbling building quickly enough. However, the persistent ringing in your ears was slowly subsiding, allowing you to now discern the blare of sirens approaching.
Maybe all hope wasn’t lost yet.
She brushed something out of your hair, as you neared the exit of the room you had woken up in, and for the first time you felt a trickle of blood run over your temple and down your cheek.
“Helps’ coming. Just hold on for me.” Nat implored, even though you were positive she believed you couldn’t hear her. She now bore essentially all your weight, each step slower than the last as you struggled to maintain an upright stance.
“Nat, have you found her?” Even though your hearing was still somewhat compromised, you could discern the palpable distress in the familiar voice.
“Not yet!” Nat yelled back. “But I’ve got Y/N. You go find Cho.”
Ignoring her instruction completely, Steve Rogers in his patriotic blue suit rushed into view. When his gaze fell upon you, all but helpless to hold yourself up, the soft recognition in his eyes peeking out behind the fear and something of relief could have fooled you into thinking you were the ‘her’ he was referring to.
For a moment the crippling pain coursing through your body numbed and all you could focus on was how his worried blue eyes roamed your frame, and how he bit the inside of his lip in a way, which you knew him well enough to know, he was fighting back tears.
The sight of him always brought a serenity which you only found in his presence, and your heart, though perhaps now was struggling to pump rhythmically with your loss of blood, skipped a beat in your chest for another reason entirely.
Dropping his shield with a clatter, his large arms scooped you up bridal style, giving Nat a beseeching look which you missed as you pressed your face into his rock hard chest.
“Besides the puncture to her abdomen, she had glass in her hair, she probably took a knock to the head and may have a concussion. She’s also likely blown her eardrums because she can’t hear anything.” Nat rattled off, seemingly content with letting Steve take you even though it contradicted her directive from earlier.
Steve then took off at a run navigating the maze of the wreckage. Something told you you should correct Nat’s words from earlier and inform him you could in fact hear, but then a shiver ran down your spine, your entire body now felt absent of any heat, and instead you curled into Steve’s body to find all the warmth you could.
Darkness crept into the edges of your vision, your eyes unintentionally unfocussing as you felt Steve’s grip on you tighten. You coughed violently after inhaling the sooty smoke filling the air, and it was difficult not to think about all the pungent chemicals in the lab you were breathing in which were potentially much more deadly than the wound in your stomach.
As Steve rounded a corner, turning to head another direction when your path was blocked by a slab of concrete, numbness enveloped your entire body. The searing pain of metal lacerating your insides had softened to a dull ache as you started to drift in and out of consciousness.
“No, no, no, keep your eyes open for me. Please Y/N.” But your eyelids felt so heavy. It would be so easy just let them flutter shut one last time. To fall into a blissful sleep and let the darkness devour you. “I love you, please, I can’t lose you. Not like this.”
Those words pulled you from the engulfing darkness back into the light. They were new and foreign to you, definitely something you weren’t expecting to hear, but they evoked a blooming delight in your chest which left you breathless. You weren’t sure if it was the combination of a concussion and being so close to death that had you imagining a fantasy of what you would most like to hear in your final moments, or if they were actually real.
Blinding light consumed your vision as Steve burst out of the building, and rushed over to an ambulance. All you could do was look up earnestly at his anxious features as he placed you on the gurney.
“Can you hear me? I love you, I’ve always loved you, please.” Tears were trickling down his cheeks now, but you didn’t have the energy to reach up and wipe them away. “I need you to know I love you.”
Even though your entire body felt ice cold, your chest burst with warm joy. It will have taken your death for him to build the courage to tell you, but you could go to your grave knowing the man you loved reciprocated your feelings.
“I love you too.” You croaked just before your world went black.
* * *
A pounding ache in your forehead stirred you awake. A monotonous rhythmic beep from beside you resounded through the hospital room, which was the only other sound audible except the faint voices coming from the hallway, diffusing through the ajar door. Even in your hazy post-anesthetic come-to, you could recognise the voices as your friends.
The faint scent of your favourite flowers hit you next, noticing a bouquet of them by the window as you continued to take in your surroundings, a note, which poked out between the petals, had Steve’s distinctly messy handwriting scrawled on the side facing you.
Your heart swelled at the thought of him and his kind gesture which triggered the recollection of the last thing you remembered before waking in the hospital.
God the confession. How you had longed, but never expected, to hear those words from him for months, if not years.
All it took was a building coming down on top of you for him to finally reveal it.
A gentle knock on the door pulled you out of your reverie.
“Are you awake?” Steve whispered, poking his gorgeous face around the edge of the door, those stunning blue eyes of his met your own and the smile which bloomed on his face at the recognition that you were indeed awake made your heart skip a beat.
“Oh my god I was so worried, holy shit I thought I- err we- were going to lose you.” He exclaimed as he hurried to your bedside.
“It’s gonna take a lot more than an explosion and a building collapsing on me for you to lose me, Rogers.” Your voice was hoarse with underuse. A blush crept up his cheeks until his cheekbones burned bright red, and he let out a relieved chuckle.
“Don’t know why I was so worried then… it’s not like you almost died in my arms or something.” There was a joking tone to his voice, the cheerfulness of which didn’t quite reach his eyes.
You reached for his hands and started fiddling with his fingers, in turn Steve’s thumb slowly drew circles over the smooth skin on the back of your hand, careful to avoid snagging the IV in your arm.
“You remember what happened?” He asked more tentatively than would be usual for him. His eyes were hopeful, yet anxious. The blue now closer to a stormy sky rather than their usual baby blue.
“Do you mean with the detonation, or you panickingly confessing your love for me?” At that moment he paused fidgeting with your hands and looked you directly in the eye, which he had been too nervous to do beforehand.
“You remember anything after that?”
After that? That was a little foggy, but how important could it be? He told you he loved you, that he couldn’t lose you, what could be more important than that? You didn’t need to shake your head for him to know you couldn’t remember, the perplexed expression gave him the answer in itself.
“You said you loved me too.” It was your turn for your cheeks to heat up. It wasn’t that you didn’t love him, because you did, but you hadn’t remembered confessing your most closely guarded secret.
“Well, that’s because I do.” His eyes sparkled as you intertwined your fingers with his.
“Yeah Stevie, I love you. I’ve always loved you.” The words felt so natural on the tip of your tongue, and you couldn’t wait to keep saying them for as long as he wanted to hear them.
He leaned over the railing of the hospital bed, tilted your chin up with his index finger, and captured your lips in a kiss. Although you were confined to a bed, the desperation and love shown in the way his lips moved against yours was unmatched - he had almost lost you, and you now knew unequivocally that he never intended to let you go again.
When he finally pulled back, the smile he beamed was as bright as the sun.
“You know, I was going to ask you to be my valentine this year, but I chickened out. I feel like an idiot, if I knew how you felt I would have asked you, not just yesterday, but a long time ago.”
“Well how about I make a deal with you right now…” You picked up his hand again, and placed a small kiss to his knuckles. “I’ll be your valentine every year for the rest of my life, if you promise to never stop kissing me like that.”
“I like the sound of that.”
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— heart shaker —
your medicine accelerates your heartbeat, fortunately your boyfriend is there to comfort you. ft. kazuha, zhongli, ayato.
requested by @ayaameii i hope you like it, darling <3
genre: hurt / comfort, modern au
warnings: mentions of palpitations and medicine, headcanons. zhongli is a college professor and teaches history.
reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated!
kazuha is the perfect person to calm the rapid fire of your heartbeat. his presence alone, a soothing wind blowing love songs in the air.
kazuha notices whenever you feel more nervous or agitated than usual, your labored breathing that you try to control, the way your hands slightly tremble, the clipped tone of your speech and how you seem so restless, busying yourself with whatever task you find to do.
when this happens, he remembers the effects the medication you have to take has on you. with a soft smile yet concerned eyes, kazuha takes off his glasses and closes his laptop, putting his writing aside for the night.
taking your hands into both of his, he efficiently stops your frantic activity, time seemingly coming at a standstill the moment his lips start leaving butterfly kisses all over the back of your hands, your gaze fixed on his face, kazuha’s light platinum hair a beautiful contrast to his gentle scarlet eyes.
“my dove” your boyfriend entwines his fingers with yours, “how about he head to bed, yeah?” his voice is so relaxing, your heart rate stabilizing and slowing just at the melodic warm tilt of kazuha’s voice.
without letting go of your hand, kazuha guides you to your shared bedroom, where he lays both of you in bed, his fingertips tracing over every inch of bare skin of yours, a breeze in the heat of day, an umbrella silencing the hard pouring rain.
in the days your stray heart is set on keeping its impetuous pace, kazuha will pick up the notebook where he writes his haikus and will recite some for you, telling you about how this one is inspired by you or how that one came to be because of a dating spot you guys went to.
and to the tune of him and his handwritten odes to you, your heart feels warm, happy and tranquil, a peaceful sleep falling over you and your lover, hands still joined, legs entangled.
few people are more knowledgeable than zhongli, hence why he would be so good at providing comfort and relaxation for your agitated heart.
he might notice it in the way you keep tossing and turning in bed, not being able to catch any sleep despite the hard and long day you had at work.
“dearest” zhongli calls you, his hand moving to brush away the hair falling in front of your face, your forehead beading with droplets of sweat. “would you like to hear one of my stories?” he asks, his voice smooth and sultry, a cup of hot chocolate on a snowy evening.
sitting up in bed, you nod, leaning your head in his shoulder, as his arms wrap around your form, his hands drawing patterns in your back.
he tells you about his day, about his favorite students and about how it was when he first started teaching history at the university he works for. he even has some fun anecdotes about the headmaster, a spunky and fiery young woman.
to the beat of his voice, your heart enters a state of peacefulness, your eyelids starting to feel heavy.
noticing your sleepy state, your lover kisses your temple, laying you down comfortably against his chest, his own heart counting the passage of time, its steady beat leading yours into the history you make in dreams.
calm and collected, you swear ayato always knows the right thing to do or say in any situation. and sometimes, you have to admit he takes you completely off guard.
when, in the late hours past midnight, you find yourself waking up and padding to the kitchen, in hopes a glass of cool water can soothe your racing heart, you were not expecting him to appear a few seconds later, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the doorframe.
“can’t sleep?” ayato asks, his blue eyes kind, his voice reaching you in waves, an almost still lake at dusk, mysteriously shining by starlight. you shake your head no, heaving a sigh, leaning against the counter.
walking the distance between you, ayato places his arms on either side of your hips, trapping you against the counter, sly smile curving his lips. a coy smile of your own lights up your features, and when he leans in to peck your lips, you smile into the kiss, your heart racing not because of your medicine, but because of the way ayato always manages to surprise you like this.
“say, what about going to get some boba? since it doesn’t look like neither of us will be sleeping anytime soon tonight.”
and that is how you and ayato ended up atop a hill, sitting in the grass, bubble tea in hand. the stars above seem to flicker, and a chilly breeze goes by, the scent of late summer steadying your shaking heart.
it’s the moment the sky starts shifting from indigo to icy shades of blue, when ayato feels a weight on his shoulder. your eyes are closed, soft breaths coming in and out. you’ve fallen a sleep. picking you up, and checking your pulse for any signs of agitation, he brings you to his car, rays of rising sun far in the horizon illuminating your way home.