#i can blow up the doctors office for you

[reiderwriter]

Hating You Is The Easiest Thing I Can Do

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: When your boss pulls your case out from under you and gives it right to the BAU, you're pissed. You're even more pissed when Doctor Spencer Reid suggests you can't do your job properly. After a week in his company, you decide to give him a piece of your mind

Warnings: Day One of Kinktober - Hate Sex, enemies to lovers, dom/sub, Mean!Dom!Spencer, Brat!Reader, spanking, degradation, spanking, spit kink, sir kink, vaginal fingering, slight creampie, Reader's boss is an asshole, typical office misogyny. Spencer is also an asshole, but that's just because he's a dumbass.

A/N: Special thank you to @reidmotif and @mrs-dr-reid for proofreading this one for me! I wrote this when on a major Pride and Prejudice moment, which is why there's a whole lot of plot before the sex. I hope you like the build-up just as much as the smut! <3 If you like it, don't forget to leave a like, reply, or reblog and tell me your thoughts! ((just as a reminder, apart for Sundays and Tuesdays, I'll be posting all the kinktober fics on AO3 exclusively, so check out my writing there - reiderwriter))

My requests are also back open now, so if you like my writing and have an idea, check out my request guidelines and drop me a message in my inbox! You can find the rest of my masterlist here :)

To say you were angry was an understatement. You were seething, the anger bubbling up inside of you and threatening to lash out at anyone who so much as crossed your path as you made your way down the crappy motel corridor. You'd only known Spencer Reid a week, but you could think of no one you despised more.

The FBI had always been a boys' club, you knew that. There were some goddamn strong women in your field office, of course, but you were outnumbered 10 to 1. Which was why you were so determined to do well on the first case assigned to you as lead Agent. The first week of the case, you'd made sure you were thorough. A body had been found in the park by a jogger, and you darted to the crime scene the moment you got the call. A woman in her early twenties, like you, had been raped, tortured, and then dumped here, her body posed in a demeaning way to make it seem as if she were performing a sexual act. Your entire body shuddered at the sight, but you couldn't let your coworkers see you weak so you powered through. Collecting evidence, getting an ID on the victim, interviewing potential witnesses, and yes, even breaking the news to the poor girl's family, you had been so attentive to every detail of the case and you felt you were making progress, your boss delivered a humbling blow.

"Another body has been discovered. I've invited the Behavioural Analysis Unit in from Quantico because you're in over your head." He'd told you, not even looking up at you from the file he was reading on his desk.

"What? I wasn't told about another body, why wasn't I notified?"

"I didn't think you needed to know, now that the BAU is coming in."

"So I'm off the case? That's it?"

"No, I want you to assist them in their investigation. Tell them everything you've gathered so far, get them situated in the office as best you can."

"Get them coffee when they want it? Rub their feet if they ask for it? This is bullshit, I was making progress, if you'd only have given me more time-"

"Agent, I suggest you walk out of this office right now and get your PMSing under control before I have to suspend you from fieldwork." You pressed your nails further into the beds on your palms then and bit back your tongue from replying, simply giving a terse nod and exiting the office.

It wasn't even an hour later before the new team arrived, and you offered a tense smile and welcome as you got them set up in their own office. The Unit Chief didn't seem too bad, but Aaron Hotchner couldn't exactly be described as the most welcoming of people, and you felt an instant camaraderie with JJ, the other agent who'd come into the office with him. There were more agents apparently, but they'd gone out into the field to check out the new victim and reinterview the family, something you weren't exactly happy about. But, if you were going to be their little bitch for the next week, you were at least thankful they were tolerable and polite.

"So here's everything I've got so far. I've been pretty thorough in my interrogations of potential witnesses, and there are no CCTV cameras in the general vicinity of the dump sites, so I don't think you'll find anything else there that'll aid in your profile."

" If you'd have been thorough you'd have found this though, right?" A new voice popped up from the door, and you felt yourself tense up under the sudden accusation. Looking up you saw he was holding up his phone, a picture of a strange marking on a tree lighting up the screen.

"Excuse me?"

"This was left on a tree roughly thirty feet from the first dump site. I called Rossi and Morgan and they found a similar marking near the second victim. It's a Mesopotamian symbol relating to the worship of prostitutes and sex workers to promote fertility." He spoke plainly, but all you could hear was the condescension in his tone, and your blood boiled with rage.

" Agent Y/L/N, I'm sorry about him, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, he's another member of our team." JJ introduced the man, sending him a warning glance, as if letting him know that he hadn't just put his foot in his mouth directly.

You looked at the man then, really focusing on him now instead of the pictures, and almost cursed out loud again. He was a jerk, but fuck was he attractive. Tousled hair, dark eyes, and a perfectly sculpted jaw, it was as if he were sent from hell directly to piss you off and tempt you. You pushed the attraction aside for the minute then, choosing to be the bigger person and introduce yourself.

"I'm Agent Y/N Y/L/N. And I'm sorry that I'm not an expert on Mesopotamian prostitutes, but I guess that's probably your specialty, right, Doctor?" You held out your hand for him to shake, but he just looked down at it.

"If you're referring to my doctorate, I actually didn't study classic civilizations. I hold PhDs in Math, Chemistry, and Engineering and additional BAs in Psychology, Philosophy, and Sociology. And I don't do handshakes." He glanced straight past you after that, walking back over to Hotch and filling him in on other things you must've overlooked during your brief time working the case.

You glared at his back, finally letting your hand drop to your side again as you let out an angry chuckle.

"Don't take it personally, Spencer is just… He’s He's not great with people. He'll warm up to you." JJ put a reassuring arm on your shoulder and you nodded. But inside you knew there was not one thing the man could do to reverse the bad opinion of him you'd just gained.

–X–

After the initial anger of having the case seeped out from beneath you wore off, you actually began enjoying your time with the BAU. You hadn't put much thought into profiling before, it usually being so far off your radar while you were working in the field office but you were actually coming to enjoy how they worked, and you'd learned a lot.

Your relationship with Spencer, however, only degraded.

Your hatred had reignited the moment you'd been joined by the rest of the BAU Team. Your boss has finally come down to greet them, and, almost as if making you pay for your earlier comments, had genuinely sent you on a coffee run for them. You could deal with the fact that the man had the most annoyingly complicated coffee order you'd ever heard of in the Bureau, but what you couldn't forgive were the sly comments you walked in on when you returned.

"Come on, Reid. That Agent is easy on the eyes, you should talk to her, get you a slice of that." You'd been introduced to Derek Morgan earlier and you'd instantly pegged him as a flirt, so this wasn't exactly shocking to you. What was a bit surprising was the other man's reply.

"If she's attractive I hadn't noticed. I've been too busy trying to clear up her mess with this case."

You walked in the door then, coffees in hand, and slammed his drink down on the table for him. You handed Morgan to him, double-checking that you'd got both of their orders right before shooting another glare at the man and walking away to find the rest of the team.

But not before hearing Morgan chastise Reid in another whisper: "God man, you gotta be nicer to the kid…"

To say that your working relationship had soured totally after your two personal encounters with the man was simply an untruth. You didn't have a working relationship, you had a working rivalry.

From then on, you'd slyly interrupt the man when he was speaking, telling him to cut his genius rambles in half, that you didn't have all day to sit around and wait for him to stutter his way through his theory while there was a murderer on the loose.

He didn't hold back either, constantly asking you questions he knew you didn't know the answers to, just to smile slyly down at you and make you admit that you weren't as good as him. It was getting so detrimental to the office atmosphere that you had to be genuinely separated after only three days, Hotchner bringing you into the field with him on multiple occasions and forcing Reid to stay behind with JJ to work on a geographical profile.

You'd been with Hotchner at a family interview, working with him to gain details of the second victim's actions and whereabouts leading up to her murder to establish a timeline when you got a call.

Excusing yourself from the room, you quickly picked up the call.

"This is Agent Y/L/N."

"Hotch isn't picking up his phone." That was all the explanation you got from the man on the other side of the phone, his voice instantly grating.

"Yes, I'd assume he isn't, Doctor Reid, because we are currently interviewing a bereaved mother and father and he put his phone on silent. Is there something you need?"

"I need to talk to Hotch."

"Well, you called me. What do you need?" You heard him breathe out a frustrated sigh on the other side of the line, and you rolled your eyes, slightly enjoying being this stubborn and getting under his skin.

"Just tell him we're ready to give the profile, okay?" He hung on you after that and you cursed him down the line, receiving nothing back but the empty beeps of the dial tone.

–X–

It didn't take long after delivering the profile to get your guy, but as he hadn't been in the middle of committing any felonies when you picked him up, you'd had to spend a few days in the interrogation rooms.

Hotch had taken a crack at him and gotten nowhere, and so had Rossi and Emily and Morgan. JJ had been the one to make the arrest, so she went in last and still came out with nothing much. He hadn't layered up yet, as they'd suspected he wouldn't, too egotistical to allow anyone else into the room that he thought he was going to talk himself out of.

"We're getting nowhere with this, Hotch. I think I have an idea that could get him to start talking." Reid said as you all stared at the man through the one-way glass.

"What, you think you can charge in there and get him to talk?" It was petty, but it'd been a stressful week, and he was used to this flow of conversation between the two of you.

"No, you are. Hotch, she fits his type, she's attractive, same build and coloring as the previous two victims. I think it'd work." You scoffed at his suggestion.

"Oh so now you think I'm attractive? I thought you hadn't noticed because you were, what, too busy cleaning up my mess?" You crossed your arms as he gave you an incredulous look, and you realized that he didn't think you'd heard him.

"Spencer's right, Y/N." Hotch nodded, looking between the two of you to see if he needed to pull you apart to keep you from fighting or to keep you from jumping each other. You personally weren't sure which you'd like most at that point, cursing yourself as you let your eyes trail down his body.

"It's going to excite him having you so close, you should pop a few of those buttons, too," Reid suggested looking down at your chest as you scoffed and crossed your arms.

"Oh you'd really like that," you mumbled under your breath, but a swift look from Hotch had you shutting your mouth again as he began to brief you.

Going in you felt a surge of pettiness seep through you. You were going to nail this guy, get him to talk about every little nasty thing he did to those girls, and prove to your boss that you could do this when every member of the BAU had tried and failed. But a small, dim, and annoying reminder at the back of your head whispered in your ear that you'd be pleasing Spencer then as well. Proving him right. You weren't sure if you wanted to succeed to hear him or your boss say "good job" to you after you finally succeeded, but when you imagined it with him, he was a whole lot closer, right in your ear, body pressed against yours.

You focused on your anger over your attraction and pushed into the room, ready to stare down a monster and escape unharmed.

–X–

It had worked, of course. It had taken a few hours of building rapport but you'd done it. You'd had him eating out the palm of your hand while he confessed to the three murders you knew about and an extra four that you didn't.

A day of retrieving bodies later and by 10 pm, the case was finally closed.

"Well done, kid, you really got him in that interview. That was some great work." Morgan nudged your elbow as he grabbed his duffle, exiting the makeshift office.

"Don't forget we're getting drinks at the cocktail bar in half an hour. Shower off that mud and change into a hot dress, Agent, and I'll buy you your first shot." Emily called back to you from the exit too, leaving you in a fit of giggles as you promised her you would.

Once they'd all gone, you started packing up your things ready to leave yourself when there was another knock at the door.

" Hey, I need to grab my bag." Reid stood in the door awkwardly, and your smile dropped into a politely neutral face as you nodded to him.

"Don't let me stop you, Doc."

"Spencer."He said, stepping a bit closer to you.

"What?"

"I want you to call me Spencer. You keep calling me Doctor or Doc, I want you to call me Spencer."

"No. Doctor Reid is just fine for me."

"And what if I want more?" He grabbed your wrist as you turned to go, using a bit too much force and leaving you stumbling into him, hitting his chest as you looked up at him, your noses almost touching with the proximity.

"Let me go," you growled, but his grip loosened and you didn't move an inch.

"What if I want more?" He asked again, a little more insistent this time, his eyes dark in the dim room, expression unreadable.

"Why should I care what you want, Doctor Reid?"

"Because I think you want it, too. Because I think that despite all the odds, you want me just as much as I want you."

Your anger burst out of you in a sarcastic laugh then at his presumptuous words.

"Despite all the odds? What odds are those Spencer? You treat me like shit, ignoring me, refusing to even shake my hand, and downplaying the hard fucking work I put in before you got here? God, you are so fucking narcissistic." You finally stepped away from him then, turning away to regain your composure.

"Me? I'm not the one who missed some vital fucking evidence in a murder investigation, Y/N, so I'm sorry I wasn't the most welcoming person, but God if we're talking egos, you should probably check yourself."

"Forget it, you're impossible. I really tried to be nice to you, but more fool me for making messes you had to clean up."

"Are you still stuck on that? Y/N, I'm sorry, but Derek just has a way of-" He stepped closer to you again and you could feel the oxygen being sucked from your lungs.

"Don't you dare blame this on Morgan. You're attracted to me and you fucking despise that, and it's none of Morgan’s fault. Now please, just get out of this fucking office and go back to your motel room." You practically hissed those last words at him, holding back the urge to scream in frustration. Your lips were so close now, as his chest heaved, hands clenched by his sides as he resisted the urge to grab you.

"Forgive me… for suggesting something so obviously repulsive to you." With that, he brushed past you and walked out, leaving you reeling at his almost confession, head light from the lack of air. He'd taken your breath with him as he left the room.

–X–

The promise of free shots had convinced you to get back out to the bar as promised, not letting Reid and his fickle moods control when and where you'd be enjoying yourself.

You finally showed up at the bar and were greeted by hugs from JJ and Emily, already one drink in as they immediately handed you a shot from the bar. Guiding you back to the table, you paused as you saw him there.

Morgan was sat at the table, happily chatting away with Reid, who'd since grown quiet, eyes meeting yours before leaving to rake down your frame. You resisted the urge to cover yourself, confidently standing tall as he devoured you with his eyes. Changing out of your work clothes, you'd decided that you needed some fun tonight, donning a short red dress, barely hitting the tops of your thighs, hugging your curves tightly, and pushing your chest up so it nearly spilled out completely. You'd completed the look with thigh-high black boots and a red lip, looking the absolute image of lust - or anger - personified.

"Whew mama, you look good, Y/N." Morgan greeted you, standing up to give you a kiss on the cheek. Reid still said nothing but kept his eyes trained on you as he took another sip of his drink.

"I was promised shots and dancing, I think I'm dressed pretty appropriately don't you think?" You smiled and giggled up at Morgan, letting your touch linger on him a little longer to see if it would spur Reid into action.

"Have I ever told you about my very good friend Penelope Garcia? I think you two would get along just fine."

The rest of the night continued in a similar vein. You'd stepped out onto the dance floor with Emily and JJ, letting whatever man wanted to sidle up close, begging one of them to be a distraction from the man whose eyes were boring into you from the other side of the room. It didn't work. Their hands were on your hips, guiding you to the sound of the music but in your head, all you saw was him, doing the same.

It didn't help that he was getting hit on constantly from his perch beside Morgan, and you watched with a bitter feeling at the bottom of your stomach as women tried, unsuccessfully, to get him to pay attention to them. After another frustrating invitation for a tryst with a local man, you excused yourself from the dance floor, finding Morgan in the bar, letting him know that you were calling it a night.

"Where's Reid?" You asked, trying and failing to sound casual as you glanced around the now crowded bar for signs of him.

"He left like ten minutes ago. Said he was tired and went back to the motel."

"Was he…" You didn't want to finish the question, not knowing which answer you'd prefer, but Morgan filled in the gaps himself with a wide grin.

"Alone? Yes, kid. Here, it's the address of the motel we're staying at and his room number." You hesitated before grabbing the paper and grabbing your stuff, practically running from the bar and hopping in the nearest taxi.

–X–

That's how you found yourself stomping down the corridor of the motel, pounding on his door at 1 a.m., unashamed in your brazen actions. He opened the door, slightly shocked to see you there, and you pushed your way inside and turned on him as you shut the door.

"What the fuck was all of that?" You demanded as soon as he turned back to you. His shirt was open now, jacket and tie discarded on the floor somewhere deeper into the room, but you forced yourself to look up into his eyes, away from the pale plains of his skin.

"What was what, Y/N?"

"You, staring at me like that the whole night and then just leaving."

"Did you want me to stay?"

"I want you to stop answering my questions with questions, Reid. This is bullshit, you can't act like a dick to me all week and then look at me like I'm a piece of meat you want to rip apart, for fucks sake."

"You made it very clear earlier tonight that you wanted no part of this, Y/N. Are you saying I should've done something else?"

"That's another fucking question, Spencer! If you don't start actually talking to me, I swear to god, I'll-" You ran a hand through your hair, and when you looked up again, he was closer than ever. You backed up into the wall, but he followed you, pressing a leg between your own. Slowly and with that condescending grin plastered across his face, he drawled out his next words.

"You'll what?"

Your lips crashed against his with the fury of your frustrations, a mess of teeth and tongue and biting anger as you surged forward into him.

With a rough push of your hips, he slammed you back into the wall, taking charge of the situation, coaxing his tongue into your mouth, battling you for control, and winning. Grabbing you by the neck he slowly pulled his lips away from yours, leaving you gasping for breath.

"Don't be such a brat, Y/N. When I ask you questions, it's because I want answers." You moaned as you tried to regain his lips, but he chuckled and kept you pinned.

"Tell me, baby, what should I have done earlier instead? Got down on my knees to beg your forgiveness, or thrown you over that desk and used you like a cheap little whore? I think I know which one you prefer."

You moaned at his words, but kept your mouth twisted in a grimace, choosing not to answer. He got tired of waiting, and, with a swiftness you didn't know he possessed, twisted you around so your hands were planted against the wall, your chest pushing against it too as he pulled your hips up and out, effectively baring your pantie-clad pussy to him as your dress pushed up and over your ass all by itself.

"So fucking slutty. You let all those men in that club touch you while you stared at me the entire time." He ran his hands across your ass massaging you underneath your underwear before pulling his hands away again and grabbing your hips. He pushed his clothed cock against you from behind and you moaned at how hard and big he felt already.

"Was this what you wanted, brat?"

"Go fuck yourself."

"I think you'd much prefer it if I fucked you, don't you think?" He turned you around again, lifting one of your legs up to wrap around him, the new angle pressing your core further into his cock.

"Open your mouth, now." Against your better judgment, your body reacted to him quickly, your tongue dropping out of your mouth as he ground his cock into your core, effectively dry-humping you. With a swift motion, he spat in your mouth, your eyes going wide as you instinctively shut your mouth and swallowed.

"Good girl," he stroked your hair, lifting you up and carrying you to the bed. His lips locked with yours as you tasted his spit on your lips, letting him take control and move you in any way he pleased.

"But you've been a brat," he said pulling away. "And brats need to be punished."

With that he forced you over his knee, pulling your panties down as he positioned your hips higher, your ass raised. He fisted one hand into your hair and began softly stroking your ass with the other.

"You're going to count for me, baby. If you lose count, we'll start again. With each number, I'll tell you what you did wrong, okay?"

"Fuck, yes, yes sir." With another soft touch, he pulled his hand up and bought it back again down sharply, letting it cup your ass as you hissed from the sting.

"O-One."

"That was for being a brat in the office. Being so confident you missed some vital evidence that was staring you right in the face."

He did it again, and you squirmed under his touch.

"Two."

"That was for teasing me in front of Hotch. Making me get hard right there in the office before you went to interrogate that creep."

"That made you hard?" You gasped out as he cracked out another slap to your ass. "Three."

"That was for talking. You need to stop fucking talking." He stroked your ass again, delivering a fourth, fifth, and sixth blow in quick succession as you felt yourself leak your arousal all over his lap.

"That was for dressing like a little whore tonight. That was for flirting with Morgan. That was for letting another man touch you. What do you have to say for yourself now, brat?" Your breaths stuttered out of you as you tried to compose yourself, confident that he'd finished your punishment now.

"G-Go…. FuckFuck yourself." He growled and threw you back on the bed, ripping your dress off over your head and letting his lips return to yours as he trailed his hand to between your legs, finally pushing two fingers inside of you as you moaned and writhed beneath him.

" I hate you," you moaned in his ear as his lips trailed down to your breasts.

"You have a funny way of showing it." Your orgasm was rapidly approaching, so close you could practically taste it. He sensed it as well, though, and pulled his fingers out of you before you could reach that bliss.

"You thought it would be that easy, brat?" he whispered in your ear with a low chuckle before flipping you over to your front and thrusting his fingers back into you from behind, causing another moan to rip from your throat, uncontrollably loud in the otherwise silence of the motel at night.

Unzipping his pants and freeing his cock, you felt the weight of it on your ass as he rubbed his precum against your now bright red asscheeks.

"You're going to look so pretty with my cum decorating your ass baby. It's going to make your ass feel better, too."

"You're disgusting," you spit at him, but your hips push harder into his dick, trying desperately to capture him inside of you and force him to use you.

"No more talking, bitch. Take my fingers." He pushed a hand into your mouth and you started twirling your tongue around them, using your distraction to finally violently thrust his dick all the way inside you. You screamed at the sudden filling, cumming around his cock in an instant, trying to milk him for all he was worth. But he clamped a hand down over your mouth so that all that fell from your face was escaped tears and muffled pleas for more.

"Gonna use you like this baby, gonna make you admit you love me."

His thrusts gained a steady pace as your brain emptied beneath him, desperate for more of the pleasure his body was supplying you with. He released your mouth then, content that all your energy seemed to be spent on pushing your ass back into his, listening to the wet, sloppy sounds of your activity.

"Do you like that, brat? You like me making you feel like this, huh?" He slapped your ass again as he thrust, and you moaned back with a nod.

"Yes, Spencer, don't stop… Don't stop." You moaned again, another orgasm rolling over your body, causing you to clench unconsciously around his cock.

"So good baby, you're responding so well to my cock." He trailed a hand underneath you to your clit and started rubbing it in time to his thrusts.

"One more for me. One more and I'll pull out, okay? Just one more."

"I can't, Spencer I can't do it.." You whined underneath him, face fully buried in the motel pillows. You were surprised he even heard you through the tears as the material.

"Yes you can, baby, look you're so close already, just do one more."

"I hate you," you moaned again, feeling your third and final orgasm wash over you, your eyes rolling back in your head as your body started twitching and didn't stop. You felt a small twitch from him too, as he finished thrusting inside of you, letting a little bit of his cum escape into you before pulling out and decorating your ass with his ejaculation.

He fell by the side of you and gasped desperately for a few minutes, before grabbing a hot wet towel from the bathroom and cleaning your ass off.

"Spencer…" you croak out eventually, regaining some clarity, but still not moving much from your spot in his bed.

"Spencer, I don't hate you."

"I know. I don't hate you either. Which is probably for the best."

"What? Why?"

"Hotch just requested your transfer to the Quantico Office so you could start training with the BAU. You did a good job this week, Y/N." Your eyes started watering again and you gently pushed away tears as he laughed at you, asking why you were crying.

"I'm not happy," you joked.

"I just realized that means I have to work with you more." You both laughed at that. You didn't hate each other exactly, but that didn't mean you could work together well either.

And you didn't want to if this was the outcome of your bickering and hatred.

#kinktober 2023 #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid kinktober #criminal minds kinktober #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x oc #hate sex #enemies to lovers

[cntloup]

You wake up in an unfamiliar room angst, kidnapping, thoughts of miscarriage, mention of torture, blood

Simon bumps into you, a troubled woman whose boyfriend kicked her out after he found out she's pregnant

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

You wake up to the buzzing of a semi-broken light and a thick damp oily smell filling the rusty old room. 

You wince as you slowly move your neck, gradually gaining consciousness, feeling your ears ringing and a sharp stabbing pain in your head. 

You struggle to open your eyes, even in the dim light of the small room, your vision slightly blurry from what seems to be sweat, tears and blood from a hard blow to your head. 

You groan in pain and slightly jolt in your seat as you notice you’re tied up in an unfamiliar room.

Vague disturbing images prance around your mind as your eyes land on the various tools on a small table beside you and you shake your head to get rid of them but to no avail.

Then they slowly come together like the pieces of a puzzle and you remember. You remember all of it. The agonizing torture. And several blows to your belly. Oh god! 

You dip your head to check your swollen belly, only to see the pool of blood beneath you.

You feel a surge of panic rising from deep within you and start to feel light-headed, from the loss of blood, or the thought of losing your child, you honestly don't know.

And you don't know how many days have passed. Are they even looking for you? Will he save you?

There are whispers outside the room, some foreign language, Russian probably by the sound of it and you can barely make out any words, but there's one word you fully understand... 'Ghost'.

At the base, there's a thick tension in the atmosphere. After Simon found the blood and no sign of you in the house, they started working on finding the possible kidnappers.

Simon is pacing the halls as they try to track down your captors and he's absolutely livid at whoever dared lift a finger on you, anxiety bubbling up inside him, gnawing at him to the point of being utterly unbearable.

You lower your head and shut your eyes again, acting as if you’re still unconscious after you hear footsteps approaching and the clicking of keys. 

They put a sack over your head and carry you to the car and drive to an unknown secluded area so a doctor can see you as you struggle to keep yourself from sobbing and thrashing around to free yourself.

Simon makes his way to Price's office with heavy footsteps and slams his fist on his desk, snarling furiously "We both know who it is. If you don't order the raid now, I swear-" "We must act fast. Laswell called with the location of the warehouse they're headed to." Price cuts him off.

They place you on a bed while your eyes are covered and you don’t notice much else as a wet rag covers your nose and mouth.

There's only the faint sound of gunshots in the distance and muffled shouts and punches. And you can sense the ground quaking by what seems like the pounding of footsteps and you feel the rag being removed followed by a loud thud and a pair of strong arms lifting you as you drift unconscious.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost riley #ghost simon riley #cod fanfic #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod #mw2 #cod modern warfare

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

𝙸𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚜𝚞𝚋?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ N o t e ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ This is a little draft that I've been working on for a while. I'm so sorry for the low activity. I didn't feel good because of uni. I'm in my last year of university, and it's draining me mentally lol. Anyway, I'll try to post often from now on. I hope you like this! Reblogs and comments are very appreciated!

If you want to support/commission me visit my ko-fi page. Thank you!

dom

definitely has a choking and a size kink.

Is into BDSM. Has a red room, which he shares with you.

He loves when you are needy for his touch or for his cock. He likes to tease you before giving you what you want.

Office sex is on a daily basis since he is busy all the time and barely home. He’ll hold your ass up while he slams inside you repeatedly, filling you over and over until you feel like exploding.

He also has a breeding kink. For him, you’re a superior human being just like him, and he intends to continue his bloodline with a worthy partner like you.

Speaking of which, he is very open about his kinks and expects the same from you.

He loves when you're under him, all needy and whiny, with tears falling down your cheeks as you scream his name and beg for more.

He can be rough, but only if you want him to be. He is aware of his strength and doesn’t want to hurt you.

He likes to see your pretty face and the many grimaces you make as he pleasures you.

He loves to see your eyes rolling and your mouth wide open.

Something tells me he is a sub.

has a size kink and a phone sex one (because he is gone on missions for months, and when he misses you, he just calls you for that naughty time).

likes it when you talk dirty to him.

He is also into roleplay.

This guy tried to be dom for once and ended up using the safe word for himself because he was afraid of hurting you.

He is not into very kinky stuff, but he won't say no if you want to try something bold. Just give him a heads-up.

loves to please his mistress. He doesn't mind if you mark or scratch him.

loves to be called "captain."

Likes to go down on you. There’s something that turns him on whenever you moan his name or when your fingers are tangled between his hairs.

He loves when you come all over his face and smear his beard and chin with your juice.

switch

It depends on his mood,e honest. tbh

Likes the doctor/patient roleplay and has no shame in using the labs from his work.

You two definately fucked after getting rid of the las plagas. It's ironic that you moan on the very same chair you used to scream in pain.

He loves to have you on top, regardless of whether he’s a dom or a sub.

You keep tracing the scar on his chest with your fingers whenever you see it because you think it looks very sexy on him. It also turns you on.

He loves to give oral sex. He'll bury his face between your legs every time he gets the chance. He’ll eat you out on every surface possible and in every pose. Desk, operator table, bed, kitchen counter, everywhere

He loves when you order him around.

"Does my pretty mistress require my services?"

You can't work together because you'll end up fucking.

It's the pretty boyfriend that spits in your mouth.

Very possesive. If he sees someone flirting with you, he'll make sure to remind you to whom you belong.

dom

This man has no shame when it comes to marking you. He’ll leave hickeys in visible spots (neck, shoulder) and in hidden ones (waist, thigh, and ass, which is his favorite spot to mark).

Has a roleplay kink too. His favorite scenarios are either government agent/rescued civilian or government agent/secret spy (for obvious reasons).

You’re definitely fucking in his office from the White House. You’ve been bent over that desk more than over your own bed.

Likes to go deep, so deep that it hits your cervix.

While you’re bent over, he’ll pull you by your hair and bring you closer to his face. He’ll whisper dirty things to you, which will only turn you on more.

Leon loves when you blow on him, and moreover, he loves the sight of his cock slowly disappearing into your mouth. You’ll pull some sinful moans and whimpers out of him.

Likes to be called "Mister Kennedy."

Has a hair-pulling kink.

If not bent over his desk, he likes to have you on top of him. He’ll praise you for the beautiful work you’re doing. With hands on your thighs, he’ll guide your body as you ride him.

Switch

He has a punny mouth, and you'll have to punish him a lot. He doesn't mind, though, and sometimes he does it on purpose.

He'll have you sitting on his face for breakfast, dinner, and lunch.

He is extremely possessive, so when you come home, he'll make sure to remind you that you belong to him and him only.

Has moments when he talks very dirty and moments when you are his "princess."

"Oh, look at you, such a slut for my cock. You want Daddy inside you that bad, huh?"/ "Oh princess, you don't have to beg; I'm right here for your needs."

He will definitely slap your ass and will be very satisfied to see a red mark in the shape of his hand appear on your flesh.

It fucks you deep, so deep that your body goes numb and your toes curl.

He loves when you use him for your own pleasure.

Loves to make a mess, especially over your chest.

Is into roleplay

Can be very sweet, and aftercare is a must. He'll wash up the mess he made and massage your sore body.

dom

Has a knife and a size kink

Will pull out his knife and run the blade across your body. You’ll feel the cold blade running from your neck, between your breasts, or on your inner thighs. He’ll chuckle deviously while you squirm under his touch.

Likes to fuck you with his fingers. He loves to see how his fingers slowly disappear into your tight cunt. They’re thick, and you can barely take two of them.

He is a strong guy, and he enjoys pinning you down and pushing that cock inside you. Wall sex is among his favorites.

has a major praise kink. The slightest praise will get him over the edge, and he'll start thrusting like an animal inside you. He'll also become very vocal and demand that you keep praising him.

He loves when you struggle to take him.

He isn't that much into bondaje, but he won't say no if you ask him nicely.

He'll bite you and won't care if he marks you. He knows that you enjoy it, though.

"Just look how this little cunt of yours clench around me whenever I bite you. How interesting..."

dom

Will use his metal-bending powers in bed to make handcuffs or bend the metal frame to hold your hands.

Has a bondage kink, obviously. Likes to tie you up and show how helpless you are in his touch.

He also loves to tease you until you beg him with tears in your eyes to let you orgasm.

He loves when you get so desperate for his attention that you basically beg him to fuck you.

He loves when you climb on his lap while he works and then start to rub your cunt over his bulge.

"You'll have to work harder for that kitten."

Oh, this bitch

He loves when you give him a hug while he is at the desk. He'll occasionally stop his work to grab your hair and buckle his hips to fuck your pretty mouth.

He can be sweet, although that happens very rarely.

He loves when you make yourself pretty for him; he goes feral when he sees you in lingerie.

sub

He loves when you’re in control of him and tell him what to do.

When you give attention to his neck, he turns into a needy, whimpering mess.

Doesn’t mind if you mark him.

He plays it tough at first, but all that tough guy act disappears when you take him in your mouth.

Likes to be spanked and cuffed.

He loves when you mark him because he wants people to see that he belongs to you.

He can't get enough of your touch; he is addicted.

He can get clingy at times, but you don't mind. He is like a little puppy.

Definitely walked him with a leash around the house at some point.

Loves to give you oral. You'll find him crawling between your legs while you do your tasks, and he won't leave until you orgasm.

He loves when you pull his hair, and you'll hear or feel him moaning the harder you pull.

Tag-list: @lunarastrobabe@shadow-wolf510@skylar-todd@alewesker@rokurodokuro@brownsugarwrites (if you want to be added DM me 🤗)

#resident evil #albert wesker #chris redfield #luis serra #carlos oliveira #leon kennedy #ethan winters #karl heisenberg #jack krauser #wesker x reader #chris redfield x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #carlos oliveira x reader #luis serra x reader #ethan winters x reader #krauser x reader #karl heisenberg x reader

[miraclewoozi]

FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE. -l.c

pair : dino x fem!reader. prompt : “say you want me, and i’m yours.” SMUT. MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT.  wc : 5k. heads up / smut tags : ex-boyfriend!chan. everyone’s down horrendous. drinking/some alcohol consumption prior to the fucking (they aren’t drunk tho). chan is able to lift reader and carry her a short distance. oral (f rec). backshots. unprotected p-in-v sex. reader has solid arch game. chan calls reader good girl/pretty girl/ baby. it’s all very needy. notes : i had idubilu chan on the brain for a big portion of writing. this was supposed to be a drabble and then ended up longer than some of my actual fics, so. bon appetite i guess?

There’s a list of places you think you’d be okay to run into one of your exes. 

In the grocery store, for starters. At the gym. In a bar, at your favourite pizza place, the library… None of them would exactly be fun, but one way or another, you believe that they would all be quite manageable. 

Further down are family events. While on a date with someone else. At the beach, or a swimming pool. A doctors office. Considerably more uncomfortable. Would probably warrant a large glass of wine as soon as you got home. You would live, though. No doubt about it. 

But at a wedding? Not only is it not on there, it’s quite high up on its own index.

The Crisis List. 

Yet this is the position in which you find yourself on this beautiful summer’s evening. You suppose it’s sort of what you get for letting yourself be set up with a friend of a friend while you were in college and mixing your social circles: this is some sort of twisted, universal revenge. But of all the places you’ve pictured running into Chan and succeeding to pace yourself through awkward small-talk before parting ways again… you never imagined that a celebration of eternal love would be the setting. 

You recognised the sound of his voice pretty much as soon as you arrived, but you were thankfully seated on opposite sides of the aisle during the ceremony itself. It was therefore pretty easy to keep your eyes off him and instead focus on what was going on at the front of the room. This wasn’t so simple when you only knew one other person at your table during the dinner service and Chan was seated barely ten feet away, and every time you glanced over to him, he was blowing bubbles and entertaining a group of young kids. Every time he laughed, or even every time he made one of them laugh, your head would snap over on instinct. Though you locked eyes with him a few times, mostly you were able to look away again before he had the chance to catch you.

Regardless, seeing that brilliant smile from across the room full of strangers made your stomach twist, so much so that you couldn’t even finish your dessert. 

Thus far, the day has passed without any real incident; dinner was three hours ago and you’ve managed to avoid him almost perfectly. You keep telling yourself that if you can just make it a little while longer, you’ll be able to go back upstairs and retire to your hotel room, and maybe even eventually, this will become another one of those memories you can laugh about with your friends. 

Just a little while longer.

In the meantime, a stool at the very end of the bar is your sanctuary and it has been for so long that your ass has started to go numb. With more people in attendance at the reception than there were at the ceremony and dinner portions of the day, you’re doing a pretty fantastic job keeping your distance from Chan. His friends, too. Everyone, if you’re being completely honest: with your back to the room at large, you could forgive anyone here for assuming that you peaked early, got wasted and just no longer have the legs to move from your perch. 

But the truth is that you’re still nursing the same flute of champagne you were given on your way in. Still drawing your fingertip round and around the rim of the same glass, wiping off the lipstick marks you leave with every tiny new sip. Still watching the same bubbles rise up and burst at the same surface. You’re about as sober as anyone on the planet has ever been. 

At least, almost certainly, you’re the most sober adult in the building. 

You know it’s not exactly fair to have removed yourself from the fun like this on the happiest day of your friends’ lives. You’re overjoyed for them, you really are, and you sort of wish you could just shake this off and go about your business, pretending he’s not here so that you could enjoy yourself properly. You’ve never claimed to be the life and soul of the party, but you know being so distant is a new look on you.

If only it was as easy as simply caring less.

But you’re surrounded by happy couples and faced with the man who is the definition of ‘right person, wrong time’. How can you possibly think about anything else?

Your spine tingles with the feeling of someone hovering behind you and you pick your glass up into your hand, ready to spin around and tell a concerned bride — for the fifth time — that you promise, you’re okay. To keep up the lie about the bellyache you’ve been pretending to have for an hour now just to get her to go back to her party. You square your shoulders and put a smile onto your face, but you don’t have the chance to turn around and put up a façade. The person — who is decidedly not who you were expecting — appears to your right instead, a solid frame in a black suit swallowing up your periphery. Your excuses fade away to static in your brain. 

“Is this seat taken?” Chan asks, fingertips brushing over the leather of the chair adjacent to you. “Are you… waiting for someone?”

You shake your head, taking a deep breath. There’s no running away now. “Nope. All yours.”

He swings one leg over the stool and settles into it, both hands resting up on the bar. He, too, twitches his fingers against his glass. He, too, fails to even glance at you. 

“Been a while, huh?” He says after a few seconds. Even though music continues playing behind you both, it’s nowhere near as loud as the thick, uncomfortable silence that had started to settle between you. 

A while is sort of a massive understatement. You haven’t seen him in… four? Five years? Not since you left college and he accepted the job offer of a lifetime, pulling him all the way to the other side of the country. Not since, despite your shared willingness to try, you realised that the whole long-distance thing didn’t work for either of you; not since you ended up calling time on your relationship after just four months of being apart. 

Ending things meant saying goodbye to amost two and a half years though, in total.

You’d you’d never been broken up with over a video call before. It fucking sucked.

“I didn’t know you were around,” you say instead of answering the obvious. “Are you just here for this, or…?”

Chan takes a long sip from his drink and finishes the glass, pushing it away from himself. He shakes his head, scrunching his nose a little. You were surprised not to see him with some sort of a whiskey in-hand, so his reaction to the chug makes sense: he was never that big into wines. Some things never change. 

“I got promoted. Came with a relocation,” he tells you. This time, he turns his head and looks at you properly, a small smile tugging up the corners of his lips. 

“Oh, shit. Congratulations,” you offer, tilting your now mostly empty glass in his direction before draining the little bit in the bottom, just like he did. You know it’s probably all in your own head that the fizz gives you a bit of a confidence boost, but you find the nerve to move to face him fully: you’ve never been one to turn your nose up at a positive coincidence, after all. “That’s amazing.”

“Thank you,” he says, bowing his head. “It’s… good to be back.”

A few seconds later, he tags on, “and it’s really good to see you.”

The bartender comes back to see if she can get you anything else to drink now you’ve finally finished your champagne and Chan puts his card down for a round of your choosing. It helps loosen up the tension in your shoulders, stops you bouncing your leg against the rest beneath your seat, makes it a little bit easier to settle into a back and forth with him. Eventually, the conversation starts to flow as if you were never really apart. 

You laugh at his bad jokes. Chan shoves you playfully when you make some back. He gets so invested in catching up on what’s been going on in your life that he doesn’t even tell you what the promotion he got is, nor where he’s been relocated to. 

As the following few hours tick by, he doesn’t leave your side. Even when people come over to talk to him, even when your friends’ eyes start to find you together and linger, as they attempt to read your lips, pick apart your body language, as they begin whispering behind their hands. He takes exactly one bathroom break, and he finds his way straight back to the chair he left. He even scoots it a little bit closer.

And the longer he stays glued to your left, the more you find yourself starting to hope a little harder that wherever he’s living now, it’s not too far away. That whatever him being ‘back’ means, something happens because of it.

Your something comes in the form of your companion trying to persuade you to get up and dance with him. He fails, numerous times; you have a whole arsenal of excuses, some of which are recycled and things that he heard a very long time ago, but others are new. He raises his eyebrows at a couple of them, though you don’t know if he’s just shocked at your attempts or actually impressed. None of them work on him though. You should have remembered that he wasn’t a quitter.

“My shoes hurt,” you tell him on attempt number five. “You go, I’ll stay here.”

Clearly, this line of defence isn’t good enough either. 

“Just one song,” Chan asks again as he stands up from his chair and picks up one of your wrists, this time. You look down at where he’s holding you, but he doesn’t. “Please? Just… for me?”

“When was the last time I did anything ‘just for you’?” You scoff incredulously, shaking your head. 

It doesn’t. His eyes soften and he takes a small step closer to you, those perfect lips of his pressing into a pout. 

He drops his fingers lower and squeezes your hand lightly. “Too long ago. I miss it.”

Something in his stare looks a little far away and you wonder what exactly it is that he’s thinking about. Is he remembering the times you would bring him his favourite snacks when he was sick, ice his injuries after gruelling dance practices, brush sleep out of his eyes early in the mornings when he stayed up too late and couldn’t get out of bed, but really needed to make it to his 8AM classes? Is he remembering when you’d put band-aids on his papercuts? Make sure his laptop was fully charged when he had long study days? Pick him and his friends up from the bars and let him lean all his weight against you as you dragged him into your apartment?

(Those needy nights where you’d let him call you the prettiest girl in the world as he snuggled into your side and nuzzled his cold nose against your warm cheek? When you’d let him tell you, without even rolling your eyes, that you were his everything, the reason he had any strength, the love of his life, the only person he’d ever need—)

He uses your distractedness to his full advantage; as soon as the muscles in your arm go slack, he pulls you again and this time succeeds in getting you to your feet. You stumble a few steps towards him and he ends up leading you all the way over to the dance floor, grinning proudly the entire time.

“One song,” you stress, hanging your head to try and conceal the fact that you’re definitely blushing hard.

“Just one,” he lies, glancing back at you. 

You know he's lying, too. High-flying job aside, he’s always been a dancer at heart: when he turns around to face you, there’s a glint in his eyes that says ‘one... or five.’ 

Confirming your suspicions, seven songs later, you’re still up there with him. You’ve stopped caring about your dumb shoes, or having too many sets of eyes on you, or whether anyone here is murmuring about it. How could you mind, when he keeps finding little ways to touch you again? When he’s singing his heart out, serenading you with corny 90’s love songs, hand on his heart and everything? 

How could you mind, when he so clearly doesn’t care?

And the thing is… no part of you thinks that this is a bad idea. It could never be a bad thing to let somebody make your heart race this way and your brain so fuzzy; just seeing him grin at you as he extends his hand out, waiting for you to take it, feels like being twenty one all over again. And when he spins you and spins you and spins you until you’re dizzy, falling over your own feet and staggering until you land against his solid chest, laughing… when he catches you in both arms, and darts his tongue out over his lips at the exact moment you look at his face… 

Perhaps your rare moment of unabashed bravery is spurred on by the way he drinks you up like an elixir. Perhaps it’s spurred on by the way he adjusts himself to hold you tighter against him, perhaps it’s spurred on by the fact that this right here is exactly what you feel like you’ve been missing. Whatever the reason, you hook a finger through one of the belt-loops on his pants and manage to find your voice long enough to speak.

“My room or yours?” You ask, quietly enough only for him to hear, loudly enough that he can’t mistake you.

Letting out a breathy chuckle, he brings his palm up between your shoulder blades. “Don’t care,” he says, ducking lower and brushing the tip of his nose against your own. “Just… pick one. As soon as possible.”

A few people have already started to leave: couples with young families, older relatives who are getting tired, friends who have work in the morning, so you don’t feel too bad about slipping out into the corridor with Chan in tow as soon as you’ve grabbed your things. The elevator door closes behind you and you feel the mechanism start to pull you upwards, away from the hotel’s function room and towards the fourth floor to your own suite. Chan presses kiss after kiss to the back of your neck as soon as you’re alone, hands slipping around your waist and joining together just below your belly-button. 

“They have… cameras in these, you know,” you sigh, tilting your head to give him better access anyway. 

He chuckles quietly, nosing just behind your ear. “Okay?” He says, kissing you there too, bunching your dress in his hand and pulling it a little higher up your thigh. “So what?”

“So… fucking… public indecency,” you laugh, a little taken aback by his brazenness. 

It’s hard to be stern with him when he’s acting as if he never forgot how to press every single one of your buttons. Hell, as if he never stopped pushing them, in the first place. You lay one hand over both of his and squeeze gently, encouraging his teeth to keep grazing over the skin of your shoulder. You’ve never had any resolve when it comes to him. He clearly hasn’t forgotten.

Just as you’re relaxing into it, the elevator pings and you jolt away from him just in time for the door to open. The middle aged woman waiting to get in eyes you both as you rush out into the hallway and Chan grabs hold of your hand: you’re fairly sure she sucks her front teeth just before the door closes, but you don’t care. You’re too busy counting the rooms until you get to yours. 

409, 410, 411… 

“You look so fucking good right now,” Chan groans as you whip turn a corner and he quickens his pace to catch up, walking so fast he should probably be running instead. 

421, 422… 

“423,” you breathe, fumbling in your purse for the key-card. 

In a flash, you wave it over the sensor and pull down on the handle: before you have the chance to get dizzy from the speed of the turn, Chan has you pressed against the door from the inside. He doesn’t wait to be invited. He barely gives you the chance to catch your breath from your power-walk from the reception. Both his hands press into your hips when he brings his mouth down against yours, lips scorching hot, lifted up at the edges in a grin. Your knees go weak and you hold onto his biceps for stability, which… maybe, with how thick and sturdy they feel beneath your palms, isn’t a great way to help you calm down. 

When his tongue presses into your mouth and he tastes you for the first time in what feels like forever, you know the only thing keeping you standing is his strength. His hands, pinning you to the wood behind you. His body, pressing against you everywhere it possibly can. His muscular thigh, slotted between yours, giving you something to relax down against but also, to find a tiny little bit of friction from.

He dips down a little lower, looping his hands around you just below your ass, and with a quick movement he lifts you up off the floor completely. You hook your ankles together behind him, shifting to get higher up on his hips: when he steps away from the door, you drop your head down to his shoulder and a smirk replaces his prior very needy expression, feeling how warm you are at your core now your dress has hiked up around your waist. 

“Say you want me,” he says, licking a stripe up the side of your neck. He knows you do. 

“Huh?” 

Chan repeats, “say you want me.” 

You grasp harder at his hair and pull, but he doesn’t move away from your neck, just keeps kissing you at your sweet-spot until he’s walked a few paces to the middle of the room, holding you up over the hotel’s generously sized bed. 

“Say you want me, and I’m yours.”

He’s… yours?

It takes you a moment to process it but you don’t have to think twice about how you respond, even though your stomach flips at this very open-hearted confession. The entire way back up here, part of you expected this to be little more than a one-night-only special event, but…

“Shit,” you whine, feeling his fingers slip beneath the thin fabric of your underwear at your hip and tug. He pulls back from you at the sound of your voice, determined to look you in the eyes when you say it. 

Faces just inches apart, you admit, “I– I want you, Chan. Please. I want you so much.”

He bounces you up a little bit higher to get you to unhook your ankles and proceeds to basically drop you down onto the mattress, pushing both his shirt sleeves up to his elbows and reaching for his necktie. In a manner you can only describe as obscenely smooth, he grabs the knot and pulls, tugging it side to side to make it looser. The expensive silk comes undone easily. He balls it in his fist. You watch him toss his tie to the side, snap open a few more buttons, and with heavily lidded eyes, he plants one knee on the comforter, before crawling up the length of your body until you’re face-to-face again.

You take care of the remaining buttons on his shirt for him as he trails his lips all over your throat, your chest, your shoulders: even down your arms, to the crooks of your elbows, everywhere he can reach with your clothes still on. When his upper body is bare, he disregards the fact that you’re still wearing anything at all and kisses down your torso anyway. 

He lays between your thighs and presses his lips to them, too, pushing your dress up higher until it’s bunched up around your ribcage. One of his hands pushes your panties to the side and the other one reaches up to grab hold of yours, pulling it down to lace your fingers back into his hair. You do as he silently asks, and you swear his eyes roll back into his head at the first little pull. 

Chan always liked giving, but he loved it when you used him like a little toy, tugging and moving him around until you couldn’t handle him anymore.

Some things never change.

You’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have to do this. That you could take him now, if he wanted to hurry and get to it, because you’re already feeling yourself flutter at the thought of having him buried inside you. But his lips part and you feel the tip of his tongue drag through your folds, separating them, exposing you; he collects your arousal and swallows it back, pressing his tongue into your hole, swirling it around your clit, sending sparks up and down your spine.

That ridiculous, stupid idea dies magnificently. You let Chan lose himself in you, and in equal parts, you lose yourself in him. In the cold bite of the ring decorating his middle finger as he trails them down your sensitive skin, in the way he grunts and moans and praises you between your legs. You selfish– and selfless–ly let him have his way, right up until you feel so tense you could snap. 

Sure, you could let yourself come undone like this. Easily. In seconds, even, because he’s got you right there and you’re battling not to let it wash over you. But there’s something you need even more than the euphoria of your own release.

You scrunch your fist in his strands so hard that it forces him to pull away from you, gasping and cringing at the sting. At this, before he has the chance to ask what’s wrong, why you’ve stopped, if you’re okay, you press up onto one elbow, straps hanging off your shoulders, your own hair a mess. Somehow, Chan still looks up at you with glittering eyes, so shiny you can see their sweet, questioning gaze even in the dark. 

“Need you, now,” you tell him, your chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. He wipes over his lips on the back of his hand and nods, pulling himself up onto his knees. You let go of him and tug your dress up over your head while he fiddles with the buckle on his belt. 

“Flip over,” he says huskily, tugging it free just as quickly as he did with his tie, and when it thunks to the floor, you hear him start to move his pants down his legs too. 

You do as he says, turning onto your front, bracing yourself on your knees with your hands clasped together beneath your head. Your back arches naturally for him, pressing your hips higher into the air; his breath catches at the sight of you, your perfect ass, your dribbling pussy. 

It’s his favourite view. Always has been. Shit, nothing since the last time he was with you has ever come close.

“Deep breath for me,” he says, so soft in comparison to the way his fingers on one hand grasp at your hip and you feel the blunt edges of his nails digging into your skin. You inhale through your mouth, loud enough for him to hear. “That’s it. My good girl.”

He’s so fucking hard when he finally drags his tip through your folds, so heavy and thick when he pushes inside you inch by inch. The stretch is more intense than you remember, and despite slowly letting the breath you sucked in leave your lungs, you feel all of your muscles go tense. Your eyes squeeze shut. Your torso goes tight. You know your cunt hugs him because of how he lets go of his length and lays his hand flat in the middle of your back, dragging his thumb back and forth, trying to soothe you through it.

“Easy,” he says to you, slowing but not stopping until he’s buried all the way inside you. He’s so deep, you swear he nudges something he shouldn’t. So far inside you that you don’t know what to do with yourself. “Relax, baby. I’ve got you.”

It’s a little difficult when you feel more full now than you ever have, but slowly, you manage to loosen up and it’s only when you give a small nod of your head and an 'mhm' that he starts to rock his hips back and forth. Shallow, to start with, but with the angle he slides into you at, he might as well be going full depth, full force, full speed with how feverish this already is. You bunch the comforter in your fist, letting those familiar sensations of being fucked by Chan take over, letting the discomfort subside until it's replaced only by pleasure.

By which point, he's stopped treating you like a fragile doll, and has started to handle you like the person he wishes he never lost.

Those dancer hips haven't gone to waste, you realise, as he snaps them fluidly into you, the harsh slap of skin-on-skin punctuating every single sound that escapes you both. Sometimes, he pulls you back, spearing you wholly on his length, letting you do some of the work and control the pace. Sometimes, he holds you completely still so that he can have it all.

At all times, you feel yourself losing your mind piece by piece. Though you've tried to be with other people since that horrendous breakup, it's never managed to stick, and you find yourself thinking that maybe in a way, you were waiting for him. Hoping that one day, he'd waltz his way back into your life and sweep you off your feet and make sure you never forgot just how well he can give it to you. Praying that the universe was going to give you another chance.

One of his hands slips around your waist, now, and you feel him come down lower, pressing his chest against your back. His thrusts stop being so long and instead, he settles for harsh, deep ruts. His fingers find and start strumming over your clit, and you can feel yourself start to break apart with gasps and choked moans and whines of his name.

You're done for, and he knows it, but he still teases you as he kisses up your spine.

"Wanna feel you come, pretty girl," he says. His fingers move so easily that it takes everything you have not to collapse beneath him. “Missed feeling this pretty pussy around me. Wasn’t the same watching you play with it on the phone.”

You hide your face in the comforter and gasp, that beautiful heat starting to rise up inside you again. “Fuck, Chan—”

“That’s it,” he guides you, grunting with every little spasm of your walls. “Missed you so much.”

“I missed— missed—” you try to say, but he finds just the right pattern to make you squeak and you tug harder at the sheets. “Oh my God—”

Your universe explodes as he hits just the right spot inside you and you feel your peak slam through you, hips jerking back to meet his until there’s no room for any air to pass between your bodies. Chan stills, letting you ride yourself through it, easing up a little with the pressure of his fingers but still keeping them moving to milk every ounce of pleasure that he can from you.

With your thighs still shaking, you buckle downwards and he slips out of you unintentionally as you fight to catch your breath. You’re still seeing spots, still trying to put your thoughts in the right order, but when he smooths his hands over your ass and down the backs of your thighs, still up on his knees behind you, you slowly start to come back to Earth.

You slowly move round to lie on your back so you can look up at him, his still hard, now soaked cock sitting heavily against his thigh. He settles his hands on your knees, and you lean over to the side to pass your finger over one of the light switches. The one behind the headboard flickers to life and illuminates him: a sheen of sweat makes his broad frame gleam, his rosy blush makes your chest stutter.

“I missed you too,” you say quietly, unsure now if he was just saying so in the heat of the moment or if it was the truth.

You never needed to worry, though. Not if the way he drops down onto one elbow and kisses your newly regained breath straight back out of your lungs, cupping your cheek with his other hand is anything to go by.

“You meant it, then? You really want me?” He asks, pulling away only to drag his thumb over the corner of your mouth. You nod, turning your head a little and pursing your lips forward, pressing a kiss to his skin.

“I never stopped,” you tell him.

Little celebratory fireworks start to dance in his pretty eyes.

“Yeah?” He breathes, rolling onto his back and pulling you on top of him. “Good. Neither did I.”

thank u so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! as always, likes, reblogs, comments & feedback are so so appreciated.<3 thank u so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! as always, likes, reblogs, comments & feedback are so so appreciated.<3

#lee chan smut #dino smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #kpop smut #dino x you #dino x reader #dino imagines #j writes. #mw500party! #*

[imtryingbuck]

I'm sorry

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

I’m sorry.

Summary: Readers the daughter of Tony Stark.

Word count: 1091

Warning: Angst, I’m sorry. Tony’s not a good dad – again im sorry. Death.

Masterlist

Being the product of a one night stand was something I was always embarrassed about. It was one night, one night he spent with a woman he barely knew or remembered the name of and nine months later I was born. When I was 6 my mum married a man who after a year gave her the ultimatum, me or him. She chose him so I had to go and live with a man I met a couple of times. I loved it at first but slowly became numb to living with him. Being the daughter of Tony Starks greatest mistake was bittersweet.

~~~

“For God sake Y/N stop asking! You know I won’t be able to. I’m busy”

“I-Im sor-“

“Get out!”

“Tony don’t shout please I’ve got a headache”

“Sorry Pep”

I ran back to my room with tears rolling down my cheeks. All I wanted was him to come to my school to watch the play I was in.

~~~

“Dad can-“ 

“Not now pumpkin I’m busy with Pepper”

“Bu-“

“No Y/N this is important. Go and bother Nat or Wanda”

Dejected I went back to my room to blow out the candles neatly placed on my own birthday cake I had made.

~~~

“H-hi dad I was wondering if you could come to my class to tal-?”

“I can’t pumpkin I’m going to be busy”

“O-oh okay”

~~~

“Dad can you come to my lacrosse game next week? I’ll be starting”

“Of course pumpkin, wouldn’t miss it”

“R-r-really?”

“Umhuh”

The night of the game I was ecstatic, at the start of the game he hadn’t arrived but put it down to him finding somewhere to park. I’d won the final goal, I wasn’t even bothered by my teams’ reactions, I just wanted to see my dad’s. Turns out he was busy having dinner with the team.

I gave up trying to get my dads attention after that.

~~~

Pacing the hallway of his office I gathered all the courage I could muster to raise my hand and knock on the door. 

“Come in”

“Hi dad I was just wondering if me and you could go to this new restaurant in town, and well you see I need to talk to you about something important” I rushed out before he could interrupt which is something he loves to do with me.

“Slow down pumpkin, when?” He chuckles.

“Tonight, if possible?”

“Of course darling”

“O-oh okay meet you outside common room at 6?”

“I’ll be there”

For the rest of the day I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. I cleaned my room, showed and got dressed. I made my way to the common room where I came to a halt.

“Going out with the family to have a lovely dinner at the new restaurant in town” Tony’s face was bright as he looked at Pepper, Peter and Morgan. 

I was standing there watching them go into the elevator, frozen. I could feel eyes on me and that’s when I looked to see the Avengers looking at me with pity in their eyes. Before anyone could say anything, I turned on my heels and walked back to my room. I’m ashamed to admit I cried.

Months had gone by with little to no interaction with my father, the times we did talk it was awkward and uncomfortable for the both of us.

~~~

“-I’m really sorry Miss Stark-“ the doctors lips continued to move but it felt like I was under water and his words were muffled, I simply nodded along. Scrambling out of the chair I made a beeline towards the entrance of the hospital desperately needing fresh air. I tried ringing my dad but to no surprise he didn’t answer.

Numbly walking back to the tower, the realisation of how alone I truly was hit hard. And with the truth swarming around my head, I just couldn’t hold the tears at bay anymore. Maybe an hour had past when I finally wiped my tears and continued the walk back home.

There were screams of joy and excitement when I arrived, ‘happy birthday’ banners and balloons surrounded every corner of the place. Since I hasn’t even been invited to Morgan’s birthday party I headed straight to my room as soon as I hit the bed I was out like a light.

The following week past in a blur but for everyone around me they didn’t see anything different about me. Surprisingly it was Tony that realised something wasn’t quite right.

“What’s going on with you Y/N? You’ve been walking around this place like a zombie” 

“Why do you care?”

“What do you mean? I’m your dad”

I couldn’t help the roll my eyes did. “Sure”

“Don’t talk to me like tha-“

“I’m dying dad, got a few weeks left in me so just please continue to leave me alone.” The whole room had fallen silence at my confession. I couldn’t stand looking at my dad opening and closing his mouth like a goddam fish, so I turned around and walked straight out.

~~~

“Tony, Tony we found her! Hurry up” Steve was panting whilst trying to get Tony off the floor. 

The jet hovered just inches off the moss-covered ground when Tony opened the door and leapt out. He ran straight to the cabin that once belonged to his father. Knocking the door down he searched the small home for his daughter, when he came to the closed bedroom door his heart hammering in his chest, his hands trembled with every breath. The team stood behind slightly to the right of him all wearing the same expression. Nervous with a slight look of hope.

The creak of the hinges revealed his oldest daughter laying in the bed. Tony was never a religious man but in that moment, he was begging to God that his baby girl was just asleep as he took tiny steps towards the bed. 

The team waited with bated breath for Tony and you to emerge from the room. That was until they heard the heartbreaking cries and pleading from a broken man. They bowed their heads and wept.

It had been hours since Tony had found you, he held you close to his chest crying and begging you to wake up. “I’m so sorry I f-failed you my pump-pkin, please come back! I’m sorry. Please. I love you. I’m sorry I let you down time and time again my pumpkin”

Tony’s life was never the same after the loss of his greatest accomplishment.

~ banners credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

#marvel fanfiction #tony stark #marvel #tony stark fic #tony stark x daughter #tony stark angst #avengers x y/n #the avengers #bucky barnes #steve rogers #tony stark x stark!reader #tony stark x y/n #Avengers #tony stark daughter #tony stark x fem!reader #tony stark x female reader #avengers x fem!reader #tony stark x you #avengers x reader #avengers angst

[weirdmorefics]

I think I got mugged... Carmen Berzatto X reader

Reader's pronouns- (She/Her)

Word Count- 2,063

Summary- Reader gets mugged on her way to work and tries to act like it is no big deal but Carmy forces her to sit down and patches her up.

"Y/N why the hell are you so late? We are slammed! Carmy's losing his ever-loving mind!" Richie shouts at me before I even fully step through the door.

"Shh. You are being so loud right now," I groan while holding my head.

Richie looks at me and grimaces," Woah you look like shit!!"

"Thank you that's exactly what every woman wants to hear. You must be drowning in ladies." I roll my eyes because I am well aware I look like shit I don't really need to hear it.

"Ha ha Y/N you are so funny... but seriously are okay?" Richie fake laughed then looked at me seriously.

"Yeah... I think I got mugged or something... but it's chill," I mumbled a tad embarrassed because I may or may not talk a big game of being tough.

Richie's jaw dropped and he shouted "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU THINK YOU WERE MUGGED! YOU WERE EITHER MUGGED OR NOT MUGGED!"

At this loud statement, courtesy of Richie Carmy peeks his head out of the window and Sydney comes out to check on guests.

Sydney pauses what she's doing and concernedly says "Y/n are okay?" Then proceeds to shout as well "Is that blood!"

I touch my head and feel the warm wetness on my head, "I suppose it is.. can we just stop the shouting though so I can finish walking in the door and actually help with the rush."

Carmen is instantly rushing out of the kitchen at the statement, "There is no way you are working today!"

"I swear I am fine! I will clean up in the bathroom and get right to work." I attempt to walk away but fail miserably as Carmen instantly grabs my arm.

"Bullshit you are not fine! You are bleeding from your head! If you won't take care of yourself I will do it for you. Sydney cover for me!" Carmen seethed so hard I thought smoke would blow out of his ears.

Sydney responds "Yes, Chef." I mouth I am so sorry as Carmen drags me to the back office.

"OOO Carmy is mad," Richie drags out like a high schooler watching a school fight.

"Shut the fuck up, Richie!" Carmen shouts not even looking back.

I clamp my mouth shut and Richie laughs "Good luck Y/N! I'll beat the mugger up for you though if Carmy doesn't get to him first."

I glare at Richie and I kind of blame him for the whole restaurant finding out I was mugged.

Carmy slams the office door open and basically forces me to sit down without saying a single word. I watch him silently as he mumbles profanities and makes a mess looking for something. After tearing half the office apart he pulls out a first aid kit. He shines a flashlight annoyingly close to my eyes and grumbles for me to follow the light.

I chuckle slightly and ask, "What are you a doctor now?"

He simply glares at me and does not say a word. "Um.. are you mad at me for getting mugged? I mean trust I am mad too I lost fifty bucks I am just glad I only had cash on me and not my wallet. I just don't see why you are mad."

He sets the flashlight down and looks at me like I am an idiot. "Are you serious? You do not know why I am mad? Also, you are concussed so you are not working and I am driving you home."

"What! I am so not concussed they barely even pushed me! Can you even diagnose me with a concussion?" I tried to stand up and walk away from him but was instantly pushed back down in the chair.

"I need you to let me take care of you for once," He said like it was no big deal at all but it made me blush so bad. He did not acknowledge it and poured some alcohol on a towel and cleaned the dry blood off the side of my head.

"You know I'd give you a ride to work anytime," he whispers as he puts my hair behind my ear.

"You being all nice now is giving me serious whiplash. I don't mind taking public transportation anyway and my apartment is literally in the opposite direction from yours I could never ask you to go out of your way to just drive me to work. If you are not going to let me work I will just walk home." I went to stand up again and once again pushed back down.

"Let me get my keys I'll drive you home it is not a question. I will drive you to work when you are healthy enough again. Can't have you getting hurt again." he said bossing me around. This time he noticed my blush and quickly added to the statement " Can't have you getting hurt because we can't afford to lose an employee I mean... just stay put let me get my keys."

As soon as he left the office I stood up and sneaked out to the kitchen.

"Hey Marcus what are you working on," I said in a sing-songy voice. He showed me a wide variety of donuts he was taste-testing for his new donut recipe. I instantly took one and started to help him determine the best ones. Then we both heard Carmy shouting "Y/N where did you go? I thought I told you to stay put!"

I hold my head and groan "What crawled up his ass today?"

"Well, maybe the fact you got mugged and he is obsessed with you?" Marcus says like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

I laugh at him "Shut up I may be concussed but I am not gullible. "

"You may not be gullible but you are certainly oblivious. Better go your boyfriend is still calling for you." He teases as I roll my eyes.

"I am taking a donut because you are being mean," I say and steal my favorite donut out of the batch.

I walk out of the kitchen while taking a bite of my donut and am greeted by a glaring Carmy. "I thought I told you to stay put."

"You did I just didn't listen," I tease.

"Come on we are leaving. Richie behave, Sydney please hold down the fort." He says and Sydney responds with a yes chef and of course, Richie mocks her.

We go outside and Carmy opens the passenger door for me, "Wow a gentleman."

"Thanks, I can be sometimes," He smiles as he gets in the car.

We sat the majority of the ride in silence he still seemed mad at me and I couldn't stop thinking about what Marcus said he had to just be teasing me.

I notice we are going in the wrong way and go to point it out, "Hey Carmy we are going in the wrong direction maybe that's why you always offer me rides home."

"No that's not why. I am taking you back to my place," He says like it is no big deal at all.

"What!" I shout so loud that it makes me instantly hold my head.

"You obviously aren't going to take care of yourself and you can't go to sleep right after getting a concussion either so someone needs to watch you." He said annoyed.

"I still don't get why you are so angry at me. I appreciate you taking care of me but it's unnecessary and I never asked you to." I responded also annoyed at his attitude towards me.

"The thing you don't realize is you don't need to ask me." He says lowly while gripping the steering wheel.

We arrive at his apartment and I am a blushing mess and there is no way of hiding it. Then he opens the car door for me and again and I am way too nervous for my own liking.

He smirks at my reaction at least he is somewhat happy now even if it is at my own expense. He puts his hand on the small of my back as we ascend the stairs.

He sits me on his couch, "Seriously don't move this time I am going to get you an ice pack and make you some breakfast because we both know you always skip it."

"Do you even have food in your fridge we both know you don't even feed yourself," I jest and he laughs.

"You know me so well," he smiles and kisses the top of my head.

I instantly flush at this gesture and he again walks away like it is no big deal. For someone saying he just wants to take care of me, he is certainly stressing me out.

"Okay, I found cereal the milk has gone bad though... on the bright side I also have peanut butter and crackers." He comes back with peanut butter crackers on a plate and a box of cereal.

"My savior," I put my hand on my chest.

"Yes what I crave to be," he responds back.

"Is that why you crave to drive me to work when I can just take the bus and walk the two blocks after?"

He rolls his eyes, "Would you really rather be mugged than drive to work with me?"

I am quick to defend myself "That's not it all I just don't want to be a hassle!"

"You a hassle never, well of course when you refuse to listen but I will never see you that way. Not after all the times you have helped me with the restaurant." He says seriously with a lot of eye contact that makes me feel awkward.

"Well, I am your employee it's what I am supposed to do... but Marcus seems to think we are more," I mumble the last part.

His eyes widen, "What did Marcus say?"

"Does Marcus know something I don't?" I awkwardly smiled. "Marcus did say I am oblivious."

"He shouldn't have said that," He shakes his head.

"I mean it is true I am quite oblivious," I laugh.

He starts mumbling about Marcus and teaches me to open up to him. I put my hand on his shoulder "You know you can open up to me snitches get stitches as I say"

" I mean I didn't want to tell you this way and I wanted to make sure I was good enough," He said.

"What you didn't want to tell a concussed me with a head wound you don't think you good enough? I can assure you are good enough. You are the best chef I have ever known and the smartest guy I have ever met."

"That's not what I meant... but I do appreciate the compliment." He picks the ice pack back up and holds it to my face as I roll my eyes. "What I mean is that I am um good enough for you. I can't focus when you're late to work when you don't text me your nightly I'm Home text. You are distracting my mind no matter what I am doing."

I try to fight the smile appearing on my face but I just can't I feel like the Chesire Cat. "It sounds like you like me," I smirk some more.

" I do."

At that bold confirmation, my face gets extremely hot I must look like a tomato. I look to the side and stutter over my words unsure of what to say " I guess you can drive me to work as long as we go on a proper date together that is not The Bear."

"There is no argument from me," He kisses me making me even redder, more than I thought was possible.

"One more thing to add to these conditions is you must take care of yourself," he whispers in my ear.

"Your one to talk! How about you promise to take care of YOURSELF." I rebuke

"How about we both make sure we are taking care of ourselves," He smirks.

"Deal" I smile and kiss him. I pull back, " I am kinda glad I got mugged today totally worth the fifty bucks."

He shakes his head, " I am glad you think it was worth it I am still incredibly mad they hurt your beautiful crazy brain.

#carmen berzatto #carmen x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear x reader #the bear imagine #carmy x reader #carmy x you #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #the bear x y/n #hurt/comfort

[not-sleepys-blog]

Wolf!Nanami in heat

Content: Wolf hybrid Nanami who is have a rough time with his heat, !escort freader, masterbation, sex, size kink?, unprotected sex

Word count: 1,595

A/N: I made reader black because me too sis

“I don’t need help” Nanami grumbles into his phone, the voice on the other end sighs. “You can’t keep pretending that you can handle your heats by yourself, Nanami” Satoru, Nanami’s friend co-worker at the office he works at finally says. He can already imagine the shit eating grin on Satoru’s face as he continues talking. “You know this service is legit, they have all kinds of escorts, hybrids, sirens, succubus, and I’m pretty sure they even have humans working for them! Maybe I should try out a pretty little human.” Satoru giggles mischievously, earning an annoyed groan from Nanami as he hangs up on Satoru. Nanami tosses his phone on the couch next to him alongside balled up  tissues and ripped up porno magazines that didn’t help satisfy his heat. His hand moves up to his hair, his nails digging into his scalp as he struggles to fight off the urge to punch a hole into his wall near his tv.

Nanami’s heats have always been bad but this never this bad. Satoru was right even though he didn't want to give him that satisfaction of being right. Nanami is at his breaking point, he should've known that the back alley doctor’s heat suppressants he’s been taking would eventually fail him.

He can feel his cock hardening again, basically pulsating in between his thighs as he’s sitting on the edge of his couch. He groans rather loudly, the overstimulation almost painful. He’s already come six times, maybe eight. He stopped counting being too lost in the temporary relief of jerking off to care. But no matter how many times he cums it still doesn’t ease up his heat and he knows he can’t do it alone anymore. It’s been proven that going heats alone puts the body through stress and causes health problems. It’s gotten to the point that the government legalized escort services, for all the lonely and single hybrids that didn’t have a partner to ease the heat. 

The last thing he’d imagined himself doing was ordering from one of the many relief services he heard from Satoru and Suguru. He pushed it off for as long as he could but as the troublesome duo sent him links to various websites just as the haze of his heat came over him. By the time he realized he ordered an escort it was too late and there was no damn way to cancel. The worst part he didn’t know who he ordered, what he did know was that next time he saw Satoru and Suguru he was going to grab them by their tails and jump rope with their annoying asses.

The front door rings, his fluffy ears perking up as he’s pulled out of his thoughts. He stands up from the couch, his rock hard cock slapping against his thigh, dripping pre cum onto the floor beneath him. He doesn't even have enough common sense and mental capacity to put on pants or boxers, his breathing is ragged and heavy and his vision is blurry as he reaches the door to his apartment, yanking it open. He feels embarrassed when the cool air from the night time blows in from his doorway, the heat and musk of his more apparent but he’s too busy looking at you. His pupil dilating as a damn near debilitating rush of heat washes over him, his bushy tail swaying behind him, He wasn’t expecting a cute, petite human. He could probably break you in half if he wasn't careful. Your brown skin, curly hair, and curvy body was driving him crazy, well in his current state any woman would drive him nuts, but you were just… something else. Everything about you made his cock throb, the scent of your perfume and the way your hips moved as you rubbed your thighs together trying to hide your own arousal. “Fuck me” he muttered under his breath unable to tear his eyes away from you curvy figure. He wanted to break your tiny frame. 

His hand reached out, grabbing your arm roughly, yanking you inside before slamming the door shut behind them. “You’re going to do as I say, understand?” He growled as he grabbed your face, squeezing it slightly, not enough to hurt you, he didn’t want to damage your pretty face. You nod, whimpering as your breath catches in your throat. Your nod satisfied him, he licked his lips as he imagined how good you would taste, how good you would feel around his cock. He imagined your soft moans and whines as you claimed his thick cock wouldn’t fit in your pretty little pussy. He shook his head to focus on the pretty little thing in front of him, making his tail wag. “On your knees, doll. You’re going to suck me off.” His voice, low and husky. You drop down to your knees taking his already hard cock into your hands, kissing the shaft before you licked a small lick along one of his veins. You open your mouth wide, taking his cockhead into your mouth, you swirl your tongue around the head, teasing the sensitive spot beneath his foreskin. You sucked on his cock, your lips moving up and down his shaft, earning a groan from him as you massage his heavy balls. Nanami’s eyes glazed over with pleasure, his giant hands braced against the wall, his hips rocking slightly. “Fuck, thats a good little slut.” He praised.

You suck in your cheeks making your already tight mouth, more snug. Your teeth gently grazed against his shaft, you moaned around his cock as you took his full length. His eyes widened as you took his entire length into your mouth. He couldn’t help but moan, his hips rocking faster, his cock hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. His hands gripped your beautiful curls, holding your head steady as his fingers tangled into your locks. Nanami’s cock throbbed in your mouth, his cum building up inside of him ready to come out. He pulled out of his thick cock glistening with your saliva. “Stand up” he demanded as he pulled you up to your feet. He pulled his shirt off, revealing his muscular body. His wolf ears twitched  and his tail flicked behind him, the tip twitching with excitement. He stepped closer to you, his cock pressing against your pussy. Without any kind of warning he lifted you up, pinning you against the wall with one hand while using his other hand to yank down your skirt and panties. His cock rubbing against your sensitive folds, teasing your entrance. You whine in response to his teasing, he responded to your whines with coos “Shhh doll, be patient. You’ll get it soon enough.” He groaned as he rocked his hips back and forth, rubbing his cock against your wetness. 

“I’m going to fuck you so hard” He groaned, thrusting his cock into your pussy “Ahh, fuck you’re so fucking tight babydoll” he moaned as he began to pound into you, his hips moving in sync with his thrusts. His cockhead hitting your G-spot, sending waves of pleasure through your body. His hands slide down cupping your ass, squeezing it before giving it a slap, while his other hand grips your hair, pulling your head back, exposing your neck and collarbone.You let out a series of loud mewls, your eyes rolling back in pleasure. “It’s too big… can’t take it, won’t fit.” You whined into the wall, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth. Nanami growled, his wolf instinct taking over as he felt you clench around his cock. His ears perked up, and his tail swished back and forth. He couldn’t help but bite down on his lip, his teeth scraping against his skin as he thrust harder and deeper. The scent of your arousal filled his nostrils, your sweet moans and whimpers filled his ears, driving him to the brink of madness.”You feel so good around me” he growled, his voice filled with lust. “I’m gonna make you take every inch of my cock, and you’ll love it like a good little whore.” His hand slid down to your clit, rubbing it in circles, his thumb flicking over it with the write amount of pressure. His other hand tightened its grip on your hair, pulling your head back even further. He leaned in, his fangs grazing your skin, leaving a trail of hickeys as he whispered into your ear.

“Mine. You’re mine now doll, I’m going to fill you up and breed you yeah” He grunted his voice rough with desire as his own climax building rapidly. His cock twitched violently inside you, hitting your g-spot again and again. “‘M gonna cum” you babbled, his cock has you seeing stars as he rammed into you. “Gonna cum f’ me? Cum for me doll” A string of mewls leave your lips, squeezing your eyes shut as you come around his fat cock. Your vision became blurred as he thrusted into you repeatedly.

 His cock twitched violently inside you as he felt you hitting your peak. He thrusted into you, burying his entire length inside her, his cockhead hitting your cervix. He grunted as his knot formed before his cum spilled into your tight hole, filling it to the brim. His hand moved back down to your clit rubbing faster, milking every last drop of your orgasm from you. His hips sputtered, his cock still buried deep inside you, as he continued to pump his seed into you, claiming you as his. <3

#jjk smut #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #nanami x you #nanami x reader #nanami kento #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami smut #jujutsu nanami #kento nanami #jjk kento #kento x reader #kento smut #nanamin #sleepy’s thoughts #sleepy’s thoughts on nanami

[alwaysmicado]

Trouble

5.3k | 18+ MDNI | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 5

Warnings: no outbreak AU, implied age gap, D/s dynamic, rough oral (m receiving), spitting, cum eating, leg humping, degradation/praise, humiliation kink, pet names, aftercare, feelings Summary: After you’ve distracted Joel from work with your explicit texts all day, he decides to teach you a lesson.  A/N: Consensual degradation & humiliation – my beloved. This one's for you if you're into unadulterated filth with feelings sprinkled on top hehe. Let me know what you think, I love hearing your thots! 🤍

pt. 1 ・ pt. 2 ・ pt. 3 ・ pt. 4 ・ series masterlist

“You sure you got nothing else to say to me?”

“I’m—sorry?”

“No,” he tilts his head and you see the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “But you will be when I’m done with you.”

---

“Sneaking out for a hot date?” 

Busted. 

You sigh and turn around to face Kristen’s triumphant grin. Beautiful Kristen. The only person at your job with a bearable personality. 

If you only had Janice from accounting and her incessant yapping about her feral kids, or John from HR and his never-ending tirades against “modern women”, you probably would have burnt down the building already.  

Kristen’s been your lifeline over the past two years at this job. She’s upbeat, fun, a gifted painter and the closest thing to a female friend you have. 

Her only flaw: she’s so nosy it’s not even funny.

After your get-well-fuck with Joel three days ago where he left multiple marks on your neck, you not only plastered a bunch of foundation over the purple reminders of his fever-fueled nipping, you also wore a silk scarf which, in hindsight, was a dumb idea.

The first thing you were welcomed with when you came in that morning was an enthusiastic “You go, girl!” followed by giggling after Kristen saw your unimpressed face. 

You shoot her a half-hearted smile and raise an eyebrow. “Who says it’s a date?” 

Kristen’s grin widens. “Oh, come on! You think I don’t notice the way you giggle at your phone like a lovesick idiot?”

“Oh, shut up,” you protest in mock offense. What the hell is she talking about? You don’t do that. “I got a doctor’s appointment. Nothing hot about that,” you say nonchalantly.

Kristen leans in, lowering her voice dramatically. “A doctor, huh? Do you have an ache only he can cure with his special tool?”

“You’re a pervert, you know that?” 

“Yeah, duh. That’s why you love me,” she chuckles, causing the corners of your own lips to twitch. 

“Well,” she smirks, “I hope the doctor will take the best care of you.” 

You roll your eyes at her teasing, grab your bag and blow her a kiss before heading out. You leave the office with a grin, reveling in the sunshine that greets you when you step out.

The warmth of the day feels refreshing against your skin as you stroll to the parking lot. Your dress, despite being a result of prolonged laundry procrastination, is surprisingly comfortable, allowing you to appreciate the light breeze that rustles its fabric. 

The sun casts a golden hue on the cityscape and you can't help but smile at the small pleasures of life – the sun on your face, a staff meeting getting canceled earlier, finding twenty bucks in an old pair of jeans this morning.

Life is okay at the moment.

Despite work kicking your ass, your mother trying to guilt-trip you into coming “home” and the last hookup you had throwing you out in the middle of the goddamn night because his wife came home from her business trip early.

You’re feeling good. 

One might even say you’re happy.

If only there wasn’t this nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You take a deep breath and straighten your shoulders when you see your Uber pull up. Get yourself together. 

The car winds through the city streets, and as you give Joel's address to the driver, you can't help but feel a flutter of anticipation. The engine hums softly as you navigate the familiar turns, presenting the perfect background to lose yourself in a daydream.

As you settle into the comfort of your bed, the world outside fades away. In the gentle embrace of your imagination, you feel a figure appear behind you. Their warmth is a soothing balm, and as they pull you close, a profound sense of security envelops you. The weight of the world, of your being lifts, replaced by the tender reassurance of this ethereal embrace.

In this imagined sanctuary, sleep finds you easily, cradled in the arms of solace. The whispered promise of warmth and safety lingers, allowing dreams to unfold like petals, undisturbed and serene in the soft glow of moonlight.

The notification sound of your phone pulls you back to reality. Glancing at the screen, you see Joel's name. You open the message and involuntarily press your thighs together, your pulse quickening instantly. 

Door’s open. Get naked, then come upstairs.You’re in real trouble, angel.

---

The familiar scent of Joel’s home greets you when you step inside. It smells more like home than your apartment or any other place you’ve lived in since you were a child. Safe, warm, comforting – like its owner. And it’s a surprisingly well-decorated and welcoming home for a bachelor.

So much so that you asked him flat out if he had a wife on your first night together.

You take your shoes off and put your bag on the couch in the living room before heading to the downstairs bathroom to wash your hands and quickly check if you look presentable. Your eyes are a bit swollen from lack of restful sleep, but other than that, you’re good to go.

As you take your dress, bra and panties off, you somewhat fondly remember the last time Joel ordered you to his home because you were sending him filthy texts and photos while you both were at work. 

You spent thirty minutes sitting still on his lap while he worked on his computer, his throbbing cock buried deep inside you. Every time he would shift in his chair a little, you would whimper into the crook of his neck and he would whisper into your ear how well you were doing for him and draw soothing circles on your back with his palm.

You hated and loved every torturous second of it. 

The office door is open when you come upstairs. Your eyes widen when you see Joel sitting at his desk. It’s incredible how handsome he looks. He’s wearing a black t-shirt, blue gym shorts and his glasses as he’s staring at the computer and typing something with his index fingers.

Your heart starts beating faster as you take him in, the domesticity of this scene giving you an unexpectedly warm feeling deep within you. 

“You just gonna stand there and stare at me?” Joel asks with a swivel of his chair, his body now facing yours. He saw you out of the corner of his eye before but now that he’s getting a good look at you, his jaw almost hits the floor.

He will never get used to seeing you naked. 

“God, you’re so much more beautiful in real life,” he murmurs, his pupils blown wide and the admiration in his voice unmistakable.

You give him a satisfied smile as you lean against the doorframe. “I sure hope so,” you tease. 

“Do you know why you’re here, darlin’?” Joel asks with a tilt of his head, his brow slightly furrowed.

“I’m assuming it has something to do with the silly little texts and pics I sent you to brighten up your day,” you say, feigning innocence. “Did you like them?” 

“You really think now’s the time to be a brat, huh?” He chuckles and shakes his head. “Alright, then.” His eyes sparkle dangerously as he sits back in his chair and spreads his legs wider.

“You sure you got nothing else to say to me?”

“I’m—sorry?”

“No,” he tilts his head and you see the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “But you will be when I’m done with you.”

You bite your lip as your eyes focus on the visible bulge in Joel’s shorts, and try to suppress the huge grin that’s threatening to spread across your face. This is exactly what you wanted and you both know it.

“Hands and knees, baby,” Joel orders calmly and puts his hands on his thighs. “C’mere.”

You lower yourself on all fours without hesitation and crawl towards him slowly, making sure to sway your hips and never break eye contact. Joel’s the only person you’d put yourself in such a submissive position for and you revel in the exhilarating feeling it gives you.

Joel keeps his eyes trained on you, subtly rubbing his thighs as you come closer to where he’s needed you all day. His eyes are dark and full of need as he licks his lips and follows the mesmerizing movement of your body. He likes how you, despite your brattiness, know perfectly well where your place is. 

“Look at what you did,” he says, once you’re kneeling on all fours between his spread legs. He palms his throbbing cock over the fabric and your eyes widen a little, your pussy clenching around nothing.

“That's right, baby, you did this. And now you need to take responsibility for your actions.” He gently caresses your cheek, tracing your lips with his thumb.

When he presses on your lower lip, you instinctively open your mouth enough for his finger to slip inside. He presses on your tongue, admiring the feeling and your willingness to submit.

“Look at you,” he chuckles, gently rubbing his cock. “Such a little slut, always wants something in her mouth.”

He moves his thumb further along your tongue, causing you to furrow your brow and gag a little. “You couldn't help yourself, huh, just had to put on a show all day like the needy whore you are.” 

He takes his thumb out of your mouth and pulls his shorts all the way down, letting them fall on the floor next to his chair. His heavy cock flops against his lower belly, causing you to swallow and part your lips instinctively. Joel smirks at your reaction, enjoying the raw need sparkling in your eyes as he strokes himself slowly.

You start squirming, pressing your thighs together to alleviate at least some of the uncomfortable ache between your legs, and let out an almost inaudible whine as Joel continuously strokes up and down his length while looking at you curiously. 

He leans in and tilts your chin up, his dark eyes boring into you.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” He asks softly, feigning concern. He looks from you to his cock and back, raising an eyebrow. “All of this just because you’re a pathetic little cockslut with nothing else in her dumb little head than my cock. Isn’t that right, angel?”

You nod slowly, your lips slightly parted, hypnotized by Joel’s big eyes and filthy words.  

“Use your words, slut,” he growls, gripping the back of your neck to tilt your head up even more. 

“I just—wanted you so bad, I–” 

“Aww, of course you did,” he teases you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Tell me your safeword, angel.” 

He looks into your eyes intently as you say it out loud, then puts a soft kiss on your lips. You whimper when he withdraws, the feeling of his warm lips lingering. 

“Open up,” he orders with a tap of his fingers to your bottom lip. “Stick your tongue out for me.” 

You obey and do as he says, looking into his eyes expectantly. You watch in awe and pure need as the thick glob of saliva makes its way down from Joel’s mouth and lands on the back of your tongue. A shiver runs down your spine as you feel it run down your throat. 

“Swallow.” He gently puts a strand of hair behind your ear as you show him your empty mouth. “Good girl.”

You moan softly at his praise and furrow your brow when your eyes find his cock again. 

“You really want it, huh,” Joel purrs, trailing your neck and chest gently with his hands. When he brushes your nipples, you wince a little, eliciting a low chuckle from him. “Spread your legs, baby. Let me see your little pussy.” 

He sucks in a sharp breath, his cock twitching impatiently when you sit back on your heels and present your glistening folds.

“Fuck me,” he murmurs, tracing your belly all the way down to your mound and stopping right before touching your clit. “Must’ve been uncomfortable to sit in that all day, hm?” 

He gently pulls your lips apart with his thumbs and index fingers, inspecting you closely. “Your little clit is so swollen, baby, does it hurt?” 

“Mhm,” you whine, his touch so close to your neglected bundle of nerves torturing you beyond belief. “It–it hurts so bad, Sir.” 

“Hmm,” he searches your eyes, “and that’s why you thought it was a good idea to send me all those naughty messages?” He spreads your lips apart further, eliciting a long moan from you. “You thought I’d fuck you if you did?”

“Y–yes,” you stammer, your legs trembling, “I’m sor–”

You’re cut off when Joel lets go of your lips and swipes his fingers through your dripping wet folds agonizingly slowly, once, twice, three times, barely brushing your pulsating clit. 

Listening to the noises you make and feeling your hot cunt on his hand is enough to make him almost come, despite his cock not having any contact at the moment. His eyes never leave yours as you whimper desperately, his barely there touch enough to build your long overdue orgasm.

“Go on, angel,” he withdraws his hand and holds his hand up to your lips, “clean up the mess you made.”

He pushes his wet fingers into your mouth, forcing you to suck your own juices off of him. You do so eagerly, sucking and licking his fingers, moaning around them. 

“You would’ve sucked my cock in front of everyone if I had let you, huh.” You let out a desperate moan, feeling your pussy get wetter at the thought. “That’s right, baby,” Joel chuckles. “Show everyone you’re my little cockslut.”

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, satisfied with the job you did, then grabs your chin hard, his wet fingers pressing into your hot cheeks.

“You want it so bad, baby? Then beg for it.” 

“Please,” you whine. “Please let me suck your cock, please, I–I want your cock so bad—”

“All yours, baby.”

He leans back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head, looking at you through lidded eyes. 

“Fuuuck, that’s it,” Joel groans as you start licking and sucking at his balls, then lightly trace the veins of his cock with your warm tongue, swirling it around the tip, licking up the salty precum. You look at him expectantly as you lick up and down his length, fondling his balls with your hand. 

He smiles at the needy look in your eyes, finding it unbelievably hot that you want to, need to hear his praise so badly even though it’s obvious that everything you do to him is and feels beyond perfect. 

“Good girl,” he says softly, eliciting a little whimper from you. “Now stop teasing and take it.”

You immediately hold him up by the base and take the tip into your mouth, sucking on it eagerly. You take him further, inch by inch, bobbing your head up and down his shaft until he’s nudging the back of your throat. Your eyes well over with tears as you gag around his cock. Joel groans in response, his whole body tensing as he tangles his hands in your hair.

You make a surprised sound when he leans over you and pushes your head down until your nose is rubbing his pubic hair, giving you no chance to move your head. He keeps his length buried deep inside you for a few seconds before pulling you up, a thick string of saliva mixed with precum connecting you two, only to push you right back down.

“Fuck, I love the sounds you make,” Joel pants as you choke and whine loudly. 

He pulls your head back up to let you catch your breath and make sure you’re enjoying yourself as much as he is. He knows from the look in your eyes that you are, but he wants to make sure before you continue. 

“What’s your color, angel?” 

You look at him with bleary eyes, but give him a dazed smile and whisper, “Green.”

Joel nods and caresses your wet cheeks, wiping away some of your tears with his thumbs. 

He traces your swollen lips with the head of his cock, loving the way his precum sticks to them. 

“Breathe through your nose, baby,” he pants. “Can’t have you passing out on me.”

You wrap your lips around his head, swirl your tongue around it, then bob your head again – messily, sloppily, just the way he likes it. 

“Good girl,” he breathes, thrusting his hips to slide in and out of your mouth, smiling at you and petting your hair. “Such a perfect little fleshlight.”

You tremble and moan around him, not entirely sure if his filthy mouth, his groaning, or the fact that he’s using you for his pleasure  is turning you on the most. You just know you love it when he holds your head steady and fucks your mouth roughly, taking what he wants from you, making you gag and choke, saliva and tears running down your cheeks, chin, neck, and body.

You look like a masterpiece. 

“I’m close, baby,” Joel pants, your perfect, wet mouth and the admiration he sees in your big, wet eyes making him tremble every time he thrusts his hips into you. You push him right over the edge when you squeeze his balls hard. 

He comes with a strangled groan, shooting rope after rope of warm cum down your throat and onto your tongue. You welcome it with eager moans, so far gone that you don’t realize what you’re doing until after it’s too late — you swallow it all without his permission.

Fatal mistake. 

Joel grabs you by your hair, pulling you off his pulsating cock, still breathing heavily.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, huh?”

Your eyes widen in shock, your lip quivering. “I–I'm sorry, I–I forgot.”

“You forgot?” Joel sighs and raises his eyebrows. He loosens his grip in your hair and looks at your eyes welling up with tears. You stumble over your words as you keep apologizing over and over again. You’re so perfect like this. 

“What’s your color, baby?” 

“Green, Sir,” you sniffle. “It’s green.”

“Now what am I supposed to do with a fleshlight that doesn’t work right, hm?” He tilts your chin up and rubs it softly with his thumb. “Do you think you deserve to get fucked?”

“I’m—please, I'll be good, I promise,” you choke out through tears and hiccups. “Please, I’ll do anything you want, just please—”

Joel smirks and leans back in his chair. “No need to tell me that, angel. I know you’ll do anything.” He lifts his foot between your thighs, eliciting a small, needy noise from you when he presses it against your swollen cunt.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby. All from being used, hm?”

“Yes, Sir,” you whine, wiping your cheeks and trying your hardest to stay still. “Thank you.”

“Such a pathetic little slut.” He rubs his foot against your folds, and you moan, closing your eyes, your lips trembling, your face hot from embarrassment and arousal. Joel presses harder and you cry out, your hips jerking instinctively. 

“Pathetic enough to hump my leg?”

He snorts when he sees the stunned look on your face. You are definitely startled, but you don't protest. Joel can see a mix of hesitation and need in your eyes, and he understands that he needs to push you.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” he says, gently petting your hair, “so you better thank me for letting you come at all.”

He sighs and pulls your head back by your hair when you don’t answer fast enough. 

“Use your words, slut.”

“Th–thank you,” you whimper. “I–I just–” You trail off, too shocked and embarrassed to finish your sentence, your voice trembling as you babble unintelligibly.

You hear Joel say your name and feel him cup your cheeks. “Look at me, sweetheart.”

You sniffle and try to focus on his eyes. “Tell me your color,” he says gently, his deep voice soothing your nerves. 

“Still green,” you breathe, swallowing hard. 

He searches your eyes and nods before sitting back up and extending his leg a little.

“Go on, then.”

You look at the satisfied smirk on his face before taking a deep breath and scooting forward, adjusting yourself against Joel’s leg. Gripping Joel’s thigh for balance, you tilt your hips forward until your clit makes contact with his hairy leg. You shudder at the feeling, a needy little moan escaping your lips. 

Joel’s pupils are so blown, his eyes are completely black now. 

You slowly drag your hips upward and duck your head, embarrassed that you’re actually enjoying this – and that you’re this wet. After slowly rocking your hips up and down a few times, you can’t keep yourself from moaning anymore. It feels to fucking good.

You shift a little and allow yourself to set a pace that will make you come. You nuzzle your face against Joel’s thigh and don’t hold back anymore, rutting against his leg with abandon, chasing your release. 

“That’s it, angel,” Joel purrs, gently brushing a wet strand of hair out of your face. “You’re doing so well for me.”

You rock your hips against his leg over and over again, your brows furrowed, whimpering desperately as you grind your wet folds against Joel’s leg, the friction causing your whole body to shudder.

Joel fucking loves seeing you like this; pliant, obedient, wanting to be good so badly that you’d do anything to please him. Most of all, though, he loves how much you trust him. 

“You’re such a good girl,” he praises, tilting your chin up to look into your glazed over eyes. “My good girl.”

You moan at his words, your fingers digging into the flesh of his thighs, your hips jerking frantically, desperate for release. Joel smiles softly at your reaction, reveling in the fact that he's ruining you for anyone else.

He fucking delights in it.

“That’s right, angel. Keep looking at me with those beautiful eyes.”

You barely hear what he says as your breathing comes out in noisy, deep gasps, too far gone, too overwhelmed to feel embarrassed at fucking yourself on Joel’s leg. There are no thoughts left in your brain, your only focus now is chasing your climax.

“Feels good, huh? Such a spoiled brat, aren’t you,” he taunts, marveling at your blissed out expression and the sheen of sweat glistening on your naked body.

“You think you deserve to come, hm? Even though you’re just a dumb little whore, only good for taking my cock in all her holes?”

That’s almost enough right there to tip you over the edge. 

“Tell me what you are.”

You let out a choked sob, fresh tears making their way down your cheeks. Joel wipes them away with his thumbs as you stutter, “I’m–I’m your dumb little whore, Sir. I’m all yours — please, please–”

He gives you a warm smile as his dark eyes bore into. “Come for me, angel.”

You press your throbbing clit hard against him, humping his leg feverishly until the tension finally snaps and shockwaves grip your whole body, your legs trembling as you moan uncontrollably. Your walls contract around nothing as you collapse onto Joel’s thigh and start sobbing.

It’s all too much right now. 

He immediately draws you into his strong arms, lifting you up and cradling you. “Shh, sweetheart,” he purrs, holding you tight and stroking your hair, “you did so well. Are you alright, hm? You want me to go get you a towel?”

Your eyes widen at the suggestion of him leaving you, causing you to shake your head fervently, your tears flowing freely now as you gradually come down from your high. 

“Shh, it’s okay, baby” he coos, putting soft kisses on the top of your head and rubbing soothing circles on your back. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

You're still naked and Joel wants you to feel comfortable and warm, so he swivels you two towards the couch to snag the blanket and drape it over you. He holds you close, whispering into your hair how well you did and how good you are, intermittently pressing soft kisses on your wet face. 

You feel the steady rise and fall of his chest with each breath, a comforting rhythm that wraps around you like a protective cocoon. The warmth emanating from his body seeps into yours, making you feel calm and protected. 

Joel’s not surprised that you need physical affection and closeness right now, knowing that humiliation is one of the most effective ways to make you fly – and crash.

Falling apart in front of somebody, allowing them to see you in such a raw, uninhibited state, is an incredibly vulnerable act.

Joel is not taking your trust lightly. 

When he sees you wipe your nose with your arm, he swivels you back to his desk and opens the drawer to get you some tissues. Your heart skips a beat when you see what else is inside, but you keep quiet. 

“Was I really good?” You mumble after listening to Joel’s calming heartbeat for a few minutes.

“You were perfect, baby,” he says softly, pressing a tender kiss on the crown of your head. 

“So, can you fuck me now?”

The vibrations of Joel’s chuckles reverberate beneath you, making you laugh yourself. 

“How about we make sure you drink enough and eat something first, hm?”

“Just say that your refractory period is getting longer, old man.” 

“Why, hello,” he laughs and pinches your sides, making you squeal, “the princess is back.” You lift your head to look into his eyes. His beautiful, warm eyes. “You think I’ll fuck you if you keep being a brat, hm?” 

“That’s exactly what I think. Because you always do. Because you love it.” 

“Wow,” he chuckles and shakes his head. “All this just now and you’re still sassing me?”

“Just admit you fucking love it, so we can move on and decide what we wanna have for dinner,” you murmur. 

Joel can’t hold back the beaming smile that’s spreading across his face.

Save for last time, you usually leave shortly after you’ve come down. He’ll sometimes ask if you want to stay a bit, but will never pressure you into doing so – even if it hurts him. 

And it does, sometimes, if he’s being honest. 

“Alright, alright,” he sighs deeply, his smile betraying his mocking tone. “I fucking love it when you’re a little brat and torture me all fucking day, making me sit in a fucking meeting for hours on end with a hard cock, listening to some rich fucks who want me to build some bullshit building for them.” 

You giggle at the description of his day and kiss his dimple. “I really am sorry, you know.”

“No you’re not,” he shakes his head. “Now, what are you in the mood for?”

“Can we, um, can we go eat the fattiest, unhealthiest junk food ever and then wash it down with huge cups of pure sugar, so we’re both gonna have a stomach ache for the next three days?” 

“Have I ever told you you’re perfect before?”

---

You step out of the shower, dry off, wash your face with Joel’s face wash and drink a glass of water. Joel put your bag outside the door when you were in the shower, giving you space to do your thing and going downstairs to take a shower there himself.

You’re kind of tired now, feeling a little burnt out.

You put on your panties and retrieve the comfy gym shorts you were smart enough to bring with you from your bag. They’re the only other clean piece of clothing besides the dress you could find in your drawer this morning.

“Joel?” You shout from the top of the stairs. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I borrow a t-shirt?” 

“Sure, darlin’. Just grab one you like.” 

“Thank you.” 

You smile and make your way to Joel’s bedroom. Opening the drawer, your eyes fall on a white shirt you’ve seen him wear many times. Don’t do it. You sigh defeatedly and lift the shirt up to your face, inhaling the unmistakable scent. 

Then you suddenly remember it. Fuck. You need to make sure. 

You put on the shirt and quickly walk to the office. Taking a deep breath and making sure Joel’s not watching you snoop through his things, you open the drawer. 

The polaroid feels strange in your hand as you lift it to take a closer look. 

It’s one of Tommy, you and Joel in it, from the night Tommy introduced you two. You don’t even remember taking this one, but now that you’re looking at it, you see something. It’s the way you’re smiling.

You turn the photo and read the handwritten note that catches your eye. 

when I met her

You swallow hard and put it back. It doesn’t mean anything. You hung the other polaroid, the one of only you and Joel, up in your apartment and that doesn’t mean anything either—right?

“Babe?” Joel’s voice pulls you back.

You turn around and look at him, startled. “I, uh, was just looking for some batteries. Couldn’t find any though.” 

“I got plenty downstairs,” he says with a tilt of his head. “Come on, let’s go.”

---

You’re sitting in a booth, munching on your burger, intermittently sipping your soda. You don’t even realize you haven’t answered Joel for the third time. 

“Are you sure everything’s okay, sweetheart?” Joel touches your arm, his brow furrowed. You look at his concerned face, his cute little frown, before putting down your burger with a sigh. 

“I, uh,” you start but can’t think of the right words. “I’m just feeling a little off these days, I guess. Work’s been stressful and, um, you–you’re gonna think I’m weird,” you murmur while picking at the fries on your plate. 

“Darlin’,” Joel sighs, taking your hand into his, “you’re the weirdest person I’ve ever met.” He chuckles when he sees your offended face. “And I wouldn’t change a thing.”

He rubs the back of your hand softly and searches your eyes. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

“It’s, um,” you clear your throat. “Do you ever get this feeling that there’s something looming?”

He tilts his head and looks at you curiously. “I’m not sure I follow, darlin’?”

“Like if you’re happy, do you ever feel like it’s not real, it can’t be real, and there’s something looming? Like there’s something just waiting to fuck everything up?” 

When he doesn’t answer, you avert your gaze and try to withdraw your hand. “I’m sorry, I’m killing the vi–”

“No, sweetheart. Hey, c’mere.” He extends both of his hands to you on the table and you give him yours to hold. “I’m sorry, darlin’,” he murmurs, “your question just caught me off guard a little.”

You softly rub his hand with your right thumb and study his features. He looks gorgeous with his tousled hair and his big cow eyes.

“Look, I know that happiness is hard to accept sometimes because we’re afraid of it not lasting. It may even seem easier to sabotage it preemptively, so we’re not disappointed or don’t get hurt when something bad does happen. And I also know that we sometimes don’t think we even deserve to be happy.”

Bingo. 

“But sweetheart, I need you to understand something,” he squeezes your hands gently, his sincere eyes boring into you.

“If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.” 

You try your best to blink away the tears that are forming in your eyes.

---

Thank you for reading! 🤍 part 4 || part 6 || series masterlist

#fwb!joel miller x f!reader #fwb!joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller tlou #tlou hbo #humiliation kink #fanfic #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel tlou #the last of us #joel miller au #smut and fluff #joel miller fanfiction

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Return to Sender [5 of 7]

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dark! Andy Barber x Reader, Ari Levinson x Reader

Summary: Andy Barber promised he would never let you go, and come hell or high water, he's going to keep that promise.

Warnings: Dubcon/Noncon, Kidnapping, Minor Violence, Gaslighting, Basement Wife Trope, Manipulation, Stalking, Obsessive behavior, Possessive behavior, Smut, MORE TAGS TO BE ADDED

A/N: 👀 is… is anyone still there? i promised i’d update this this weekend, and i delivered. an hour before midnight, but i delivered. 😅 i know it’s been a while for this fic, but it hasn’t been forgotten about. i really hope you all enjoy this latest installment, and please don’t hesitate to let me know what you think! as always, comments are great, reblogs are golden. thank you for reading, and mind the warnings. ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics

 Where am I?

You stare blearily at the distant ceiling, dull and rusting metal beams criss-crossing over exposed brick. You reach out for Dove, and when your fingers meet empty air, your throat tightens as you remember. 

Pronge walking away with your baby, and Ari—

You sit up, your fingers knotted in the thin blanket. The repurposed garage office is still and silent, the springs creaking quietly underneath you. The air smells like old motor oil, singed rubber and citrus-scented antiseptic, and it burns your nostrils. You’re almost afraid to shatter the fragile silence with the sound of your movement, but it can’t be helped as you shove your feet back into your sneakers. The office is long abandoned, the desks all pushed up against the sides of the room to make space for the bed.

The hallway is slightly better, boxes of papers and car parts lining both sides, lit by old yellow florescent bulbs that give off less light than they should. There’s a dusty, unlit neon sign that reads Gary’s Auto-body, leaning against the wall. Down the hall, you can see that the light is on in the garage proper, this one bright and brilliant white. You squint as you pass through the doorway, spots dancing in front of your eyes as they slowly adjust to the light. 

In its previous life, this place had been a car mechanic’s garage, but now it serves as something like a speak-easy operating room. The car lifts have been mostly dismantled, and sitting on the concrete in the rusted outline of where they used to be are two operating tables. Ari is on one of them, speaking quietly to the man winding a length of beige bandaging around his right shoulder. 

Zemo. Ari called him Zemo.

“Mouse, you’re up.” You cover your mouth with both hands to stop the surprised squeak from reaching him. Guiltily, you peer around the door frame, waiting for a reprimand that doesn’t come. The “doctor” regards you with cold, calculating eyes. 

“So this is the young woman Mr. Barber is tearing the city apart to find,” he says. “How nice to finally meet you.” Andy’s name sends a cold shiver down your spine, and you clutch yourself. Zemo’s welcome feels less like kindness and more like tolerance. It makes you wonder how long you’ll be staying here. 

“You know Andy?” You ask, careful to keep your face as neutral as you can manage. 

Zemo scowls. “Well enough to know we do not get along.” He shakes his head, before regarding you with a cold smile. “Your husband has just as many enemies as he does friends.” Beside him, Ari sits up on the table with a pained grunt, swinging his legs over the side. 

“We can trust him, Mouse.” Ari offers you a watery smile. Nervously, you step closer, skirting around the now defunct counter as you attempt to give Zemo as wide a berth as you can manage. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, cleaning his tools with a cloth before dropping them with a loud, metallic pap into the metal tray next to the table. 

“Are you okay?” You ask him in a quiet voice as you approach, fingers dancing nervously around the gauze. You shake your head, closing your eyes as you blow out an exasperated breath. “I mean, I know you’re not okay, but—” Ari places a warm hand over your own, a quiet laugh rumbling in his chest. 

“I’m okay.” 

“Lucky for you Pronge is a terrible shot.” Zemo quips. “He missed bone.”

“See?” Ari says, squeezing your hand tight before letting go. “I’m just fine.” 

“You’re not fine. You have a six millimeter hole in you.”  

“Semantics.” 

“Keep activity to a minimum. I shouldn’t have to tell you this,” Zemo replies dryly. “And keep it clean, I’m not going to do it for you. This isn’t a hospital.” You watch him pack up his tools, ferrying them over to the deep sink on the other side of the room. Ari slides off of the table with a grunt, and you watch him press his lips together as he stands upright, gritting his teeth against the pain. 

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” Ari mutters, cutting his eyes at Zemo over his shoulder. “Six millimeters.” The doctor tosses him a worn looking cloth sling. Ari tries to fit it over his shoulder, and you rush to help him. “Thanks, Mouse.” Your cheeks warm with an uncomfortable heat. “I could have done it myself.” 

“This is all my fault,” you mumble angrily, shaking your head. “I have to do something.” You step back from him, tucking your chin. He rests a warm, comforting hand on your shoulder. 

“No it’s not.” 

“If I—If I hadn’t—” Guilt is an achingly heavy cowl about your sagging shoulders. 

“Mouse, what good is this going to do you?” The gentleness in his touch makes you flinch.

“As much as I am enjoying this conversation,” Zemo clears his throat. “I have my own wife and son to be getting back to.” You watch as he places his cleaned tools back into his bag. “Do remember what I said about your… hole.” He gestures to Ari’s injured arm with a grimace. “I’m rather keen on not amputating.” 

“You and me both.” Ari says. The two of you watch as he makes his way over to the front of the shop, pulling the metal garage door up enough to slip underneath it. “What time tomorrow?”

“Noon.” 

The garage door slams down hard onto the concrete, and then there is silence. You stand there awkwardly, twisting your t-shirt in your restless hands. They’re so used to holding the baby, without her sure weight in them they feel… useless. 

You feel useless. Adrift. 

And it isn’t just Dove—it’s everything. Despite what Ari says, you know this is your fault. He’d never have been hurt if you hadn’t been so fucking helpless. And it’s your own fault, you’d let your guard down, let Andy back inside, let him make a home inside your head, and it was your fault. 

“What are you thinkin’ there, Mouse?” Ari’s voice interrupts the self-depreciating internal monologue running rampant in your head. “I hope it’s about getting some sleep, you need it.” Again, his earnestness puts you on edge. You don’t know what to do with it—it feels alien to you now, almost like you’d prefer Andy’s smug cruelty—at least then you know what to expect. 

You don’t want to admit that you’re blaming yourself, thinking about all the ways you could have prevented this exact course of events just by being better. 

“Yeah,” you lie. “I’m exhausted.” If anything, you’re too awake, recalling last night’s events with perfect clarity. You can’t even look at Ari as the two of you silently make your way back to the repurposed offices, shuffling along beside him as your insides squirm. You feel too much to go to sleep, so many warring desires it feels like you’re being torn apart from the inside out.

You suppose that’s one thing you sort of miss about Andy—you didn’t have to think, didn’t have to feel. He did it all for you. You arrive back at your “room”, fidgeting nervously before you cross the threshold. You don’t think you can sleep in here now, now that the adrenaline has worn off. Now that the terror has been waylaid by your other earthly concerns. 

 Ari notes your hesitation. 

“I can stay with you util you fall asleep, if you don’t think you can.” 

You duck your head, shaking it emphatically. “I should be looking after you,” you reply, shooting him a look over your shoulder. “You should, um, rest.” Ari looks around, raising an eyebrow. Oh. There’s only one other bed—and it’s current occupant is currently snoring so loud you can hear it in here. 

“You sleep here, and I’ll—” You look around. “I’ll sleep in one of the rolly-chairs or something.” He laughs softly at your sudden determination. 

“You know I’m not letting you sleep on chairs, Mouse.” Ari rests a hand on your shoulder. “You take the bed.” 

“You got shot, Ari!” You hiss. “I-I-I can’t—”

He holds up his hands placatingly, like he can see you working yourself up. Hell, he probably can. 

“Okay.” He threads the fingers of his good hand through his blond hair. “I’ll sleep on one side, you on the other. Fair?” 

“Y-yes. Fair.” Your words shock the both of you, and you feel your face heat as he regards you with a look of pleasant surprise before you look down at your feet. 

“You don’t have to agree if you aren’t comfortable, Mouse. You know that. I wouldn’t—”

“I know.” You grip your own forearms tightly as you speak, like you’re afraid saying the words out loud will make them untrue—like speaking the name of your demon will bring him down upon you. “You’re not Andy.” 

Ari takes the left side of the bed, and the springs creak under his weight. You crawl in beside him, holding yourself as stiff as you possibly can to avoid even brushing him by accident. The truth is, you are scared—but not of Ari. 

And that frightens you, too. 

He’s a man, a stranger, wearing a face too similar to the one you’re running from. Now, though, when you’re brave enough to peek at him, you see Ari—not Andy. And the longer you’re here, the clearer you see him.

You lie there in the dark, your arms held painfully stiff over your chest as you search the dark with wide, glassy eyes. The ceiling is far enough above you that your brain begins to construct patterns and shapes on it’s popcorn-textured surface. Grinning faces, tall, shadowy figures—

“Mouse, are you sleeping?” 

You hesitate. “…No.” 

“Go to sleep.” You swallow against the thick lump in your throat, blinking back hot tears. 

“It’s… It’s hard without Dove.” It’s so silent without the baby, the darkness uncomfortably quiet without the sound of her sleepy burble. She’s probably awake right now, wailing for you. You press the heels of your palms against your eyes like you’re trying to hold the tears in. 

“I know.” The mattress creaks, and you feel Ari’s weight shift. The weight of your loss settles in on you, then, the crushing vacuum of your daughter’s absence sucking the air out of your lungs as you gasp for it. You can’t keep quiet anymore, your hiccoughing breaths rising in pitch until you’re sobbing, hot tears streaming down your cheeks to soak your hair and the thin pillow beneath. 

“Hey, hey, come here.” Ari’s touch is hesitant. He lets his fingers linger on your shoulders before he hugs you, like he’s waiting for you to rebuke him. You don’t. Instead, you curl into his chest, your wails muffled by his body as you tangle your fingers in his over-shirt. You cry so hard it hurts, your throat raw and aching. 

Ari’s hands don’t stray. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t murmur false platitudes or make promises he knows he won’t be able to keep. He just…holds you, his breath steady and heartbeat slow and even under your ear. 

And then, finally, you fall asleep.

—

In the light of day, Irene looks terrible. Her left eye is swollen black and purple, a patchwork of burst blood-vessels and yellow bruises spread out over  cheek. The other side of her face is not much better, the other eye open but blood red, and her nose swollen. It’s obvious she took a beating, a bad one. Still, she seems to be in higher spirits than last night as she shovels the last of her cereal into her mouth. You’re doing the same thing, hungrily crunching down the contents of your own bowl. 

“We need to talk about next steps.” Irene draws the back of her hand across her mouth, her one good eye focused on you. “We need to move.” 

“I’m not going anywhere without Dove.” 

“That isn’t an option anymore.” 

You clench your hands into fists on the table. “I’m. Not. Leaving.” 

“We will figure out a way to get her back, but right now? You cannot go back to Boston, he is never going to let you go, do you understand that?” It’s like you’re speaking two different languages, talking around one another in dizzying circles. You shove yourself away from the foldout table, knocking over your plastic chair. 

“I’m not fucking leaving without my daughter!” You haven’t felt like this in months, and something about it feels freeing as the hot rage pools in your chest.  No, it isn’t that you haven’t felt it, you haven’t let yourself feel it. Anger was hopeless with Andy, firm and stone faced in the hurricane of your rage until you exhausted yourself, your freedom, your life still frustratingly far out of your reach. 

You storm away from the table, kicking aside one of Zemo’s silver trays, and his tools skitter across the concrete. Behind you is the sound of Ari’s voice. 

“I’ll talk to her.” 

You don’t know where you’re going, but you know you need to be away from them. Alone. The bathroom is on the far side of the garage bay, and you slam the door behind you, your chest heaving. You can’t leave without Dove, you won’t. 

You won’t abandon her. 

You grip the porcelain edges of the sink hard as you blink back fresh tears. You turn on the water with a fierce jerk of the knob, and begin to rinse last night’s tears from your face. This is the cleanest room in the building, fresh towels stacked on on the shelves, and medical supplies arranged neatly in the glass cases across from the standing shower. 

It’s probably the only room Zemo actually uses. 

As you’re drying your face, a knock sounds at the door, and you glare at it as you huff. 

“What?”

“It’s me. Can I come in?” You chew your lip. 

“Fine.” 

You unlatch the lock, and fold your arms across your chest as it opens. Ari peers around the door. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” You repeat, and he chuckles, stepping fully inside as the door swings shut behind him. “I’m not leaving without Dove.” You say it firmly, watching his shoulders sag with his deep sigh. “It’s not happening.” 

“Mouse. Look at me.” Reluctantly, you drag your gaze from the air over his shoulder. “Your husband—”

“We’re not married.” You spit, and Ari rolls his eyes at the technicality. 

“He’s dangerous, Mouse. You know that.” Ari places gentle hands on your shoulders. “You know that as soon as you step foot back in that house that he will never, ever let you go again.” Your stomach twists at his words.

“I can get out again.” 

“Will you want to?” His bluntness feels like a slap across the face, and though Ari hadn’t struck you—would never—your cheeks smart anyway. You know what he’s implying—Andy scrambled your head all up inside, and half the time now you don’t know up from fucking down.

But it still hurts to know he knows. Knows how changed you are, even though he never got to see the before, just the after.  

“Fuck you!” You snarl. “I am not leaving her! And if you won’t help me get her back, then I’ll—I’ll go back my fucking self!” For the first time since you’d met him, Ari actually looks angry at this, his eyes darkening beneath his furrowed brows. “If you don’t care about her—”

“I let Leah go back.” It takes you a moment to realize who he’s talking about, what he means. “I let Leah go back, and then I had to bury them both.” Ari’s hand is a pale, trembling fist on the bathroom sink. His next words are hoarse. “I didn’t know they made coffins so small.” 

“Ari…”

“I care about Dove.” The words are heavy, and you hate that you know he means them. “We are going to get her back.” His eyes are shiny, but he doesn’t cry. “I fucking swear we will get her back, but you are not going to do that. Okay? You’re not.” 

“You promise?” Your mouth trembles. 

“I promise.” Ari wraps his pinky around yours, holding your entwined fingers up at eye level. “And you aren’t going back.”  

“I-I won’t.”

“Promise.” His dark eyes burn so fiercely you want to look away. “Promise.” He repeats it firmly. 

“I promise.” 

And then he’s kissing you, cupping your chin with his good hand as he presses his lips desperately against your own. Your heart pounds in your ears as you go stiff in his arms. Ari breaks away, releasing you with a soft curse. 

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Mouse, I—I didn’t mean to do that, I just—” For once, he’s flustered, his cheeks ruddy beneath the shadow of his beard. Ari cards his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry.” 

The moment hangs between you in the air, held like a breath. 

Your body stays tensed, like you’re ready to fight, or run, like it remembers Andy’s strict instructions. Except… Andy isn’t here to deliver them himself. 

“It’s…” You don’t know what to say, hell, you don’t even know what you’re feeling. Everything is all mixed up, the emotions all biting the tails of the ones they’re chasing—you’re terrified, you’re exhilarated, you’re nauseous and scared and happy and—

“I’ll go. I should go.” Ari mutters the words more to himself than to you. You’re moving before you really mean to, leaning up on the tips of your toes to press a clumsy kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“I—I don’t want you to go.”  With a sigh, Ari melts against you, resting his forehead against yours.  You know you have done this before—many times, even just with Andy—but somehow there is a marked uncertainty as you lift your own hand to Ari’s face, stroking your thumb along his stubbled jawline. He hums, turning his face into your palm, and you feel the press of his lips. 

 Ari wraps his good arm around your waist, his fingers pressing into the meat of your hip through your pajama pants. His right arm flexes, his fist clenching and unclenches in the sling like he wants to move it, but he knows better. Instead, he buries his nose in your hair, the tips of his fingers creeping up beneath your t-shirt to stroke at your belly. You tense at his touch and then relax again, shivering. 

“You tell me to go, I go.” Ari repeats softly, nosing down the side of your jaw. “I won’t be angry.” You look for the pool of cold dread that usually sits in your belly whenever Andy touches you, the reluctant fear that you stamp down to please him but find it entirely absent. 

“You don’t have to make me happy, you don’t have to do what I want because I want it.” You have to stand on the tips of your toes to wrap your arms around Ari’s broad shoulders. There is undeniable excitement uncurling in your belly, warmth skipping under your skin at his touch. You want Ari to touch you.

“What if… it would make me happy?”

Ari huffs out a breathy laugh, his lips curving against your own. “That’s all I seem to want to do.” He takes your mouth again with a fervor that leaves you pleasantly breathless. Ari tangles his fingers in the curls at the nape of your neck, holding you still. His teeth tug at the weight of your lower lip and you gasp, opening for him. Ari tastes faintly of cinnamon sugar and something distinctly him that makes you shiver. 

“Been wanting to do that for a goddamn week.” He sighs the words against your mouth. He smooths his hand down the back of your neck, tracing a gentle finger along the length of your spine. You don’t know you’re holding your breath until you release is as his palm skirts over the curve of your ass. He chuckles. “Is this okay?”

“Y-yes.” Ari palms your ass in response and you gasp, tangling your fingers in his over-shirt. It feels strange to be asked what you want, to even consider your own feelings as worth listening to. Andy tells you what to want, what to think, how to feel—Ari simply…allows you to be. Just as you are. 

“I wanna touch you, Mouse,” he breathes. The admission sends a sharp bolt of electricity straight down your spine. “Can I?” You can’t avoid his eyes anymore, reluctantly meeting his gaze with your own. The words stick in your throat.

“You have to tell me, Mouse.” He strokes your trembling chin with the pad of his thumb. “I’m not him.”Andy always played at giving you choice, but you know Ari isn’t. That if you tell him to, he’ll walk away, and he won’t punish you for it. 

You close your eyes hard, pressing the lids shut till they hurt. You don’t want to think about Andy right now, don’t want to think about Dove without you—you just want this. It feels like you have to reach down your own throat to find it, pulling your own voice up and out through your mouth with force.

“Please?” 

Ari groans, plunging his hand into your loose sleep-pants to wrap around your thighs. He’s strong enough to lift you one-armed as you adjust. You wrap your legs around his waist as a reflex and he hums approvingly, his fingers sinking into the meat of your hips. 

The hard planes of his body press against yours, and your face heats as you think of the new weight that has settled around your hips and belly, but Ari does not seem to notice its presence, his fingers skimming appreciatively along your skin. You can feel the bulge of his cock pressing against your core, and the breathy, surprised noise you make in the back of your throat at the feel of it prompts a chuckle. 

Ari grips your hip hard as he takes a few long strides backwards until you feel cool tile beneath your back. He holds you there, pinned comfortably between his body and the wall as he grinds into you. He ruts against you with a groan. The thin, stretchy fabric between you offers little protection, considering, you can practically feel him throbbing through his zipper. 

“See, Mouse?” He says lowly. “All for you.” Ari releases you, and your feet have barely touched down on the tile before he’s pulling at the hem of your t-shirt. 

“Let’s take this off.” You nod, tugging it up over your head breathlessly, unaware of where it lands after Ari tugs it from your fingers. He drops to his knees, hooking a finger under the elastic band holding up your pajamas. You tense, remembering the last person who had been between your legs, but Ari grounds you, his lips brushing over the curve of your hip. 

“Don’t.” His mouth moves softly against your skin. “Stay here. With me, right now. Don’t go anywhere else.” Ari peels the layers of clothing back from your skin, his hands roaming hungrily over each newly revealed inch. You step out of them and then quickly scoot off your socks. Ari looks up at you from between your thighs, making hard, heavy eye contact as he places a hand beneath your knee. 

“Can I do this for you, Sweetheart? Can I make you feel good?” God, you want to let him. Everything’s out of you control—Andy, Dove, your whole life, but this? This is yours. This, you get to choose.

“Yes.” Even the act of consent feels unfamiliar. “I—I want to.” You don’t know how to describe the way you see the relief leave his body, his broad shoulders relaxing as he widens your stance, pushing your thighs apart till he can kneel between them properly. He squeezes the back of your thigh reassuringly before slowly lifting it to rest on his good shoulder. Ari holds your gaze as he leans forward to place a kiss on the chubby curve of your vulva through your cotton panties. 

His mouth is warm and soft—reverent as he mouths at your swelling lips through the fabric. Ari strokes your hip as he catches the fabric with his teeth, before pulling it aside to marvel at your bare pussy. You want to look away but you don’t, your mouth dropping open as he delivers a sloppy kiss against your slick folds. 

“O-oh,” the sound falls from your lips unbidden, and you feel his mouth curve against you. He pauses briefly to shrug out of his flannel, and dimly you are aware of the sound of his zipper before he’s back, his face thrust hard into the soaking place between your thighs. You mumble his name. 

“Ari, Ari, Ari—” 

He rolls the pearl of your clit against the roof of his mouth, circling your entrance with one finger. You press your head back against the tile, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. You do not remember threading your fingers through his hair, but as you tighten them, tugging, he moans, throaty and low. When you chance a look down, Ari is staring at you with lidded eyes. He flicks your clit sharply with the tip of his tongue, humming appreciatively as you jackknife. 

“Go ahead and cum, Mouse,” he murmurs the words against your slick, twitching skin. “It’s okay, Sweetheart, I know you need it.” One hand remains buried in Ari’s hair, tugging on it helplessly as the other scrabbles for purchase against the tile, looking for something—anything—to hold onto. You push against the hot water knob, and the pipes rattle as water rockets through them. You are tangentially aware of the spray of warm water from the shower head—but only barely. You whine helplessly, hips rolling against Ari’s face as you cum. 

He presses the tip of his finger into your cunt, groaning at the feel of you, wet and swollen and sucking at him. He gently lowers your leg, and your trembling knees nearly buckle. You watch as Ari wraps his fist around his cock, pumping it slowly as he stares at the sticky, messy spot at the apex of your thighs. It’s thick, veiny like his forearms. He sweeps his thumb across the tip,  spreading the dewy drop of precum gathered there. 

Ari stands, fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. From inside, he produces a wrinkled—but sealed—condom. He tears into the packet with his teeth before discarding it. He fumbles with one hand, nearly dropping it, but you help, gingerly pulling the condom from his fingers. Ari stands stock still as you roll it slowly down to the base before he grasps your chin, his mouth crashing against yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue. 

This time when he lifts you, he uses the wall to leverage your weight, sinking you down slow as you lock your ankles behind his waist. Ari’s head lolls, his lips parting in a silent “o” as he draws his hips back, and then fully sheathes himself inside. The air in your lungs escapes in a sharp, needy whine. 

“F-full.” You don’t even realize you’ve said it until Ari hums in agreement. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it Mouse?” He breathes. “Shit, you’re squeezing me so nice,” he breathes, drawing back until your cunt is sicking at the tip of him before driving all the way back inside. You manage a nod, your hips rolling greedily into his.

“I-I—fuck—again—” The words don’t want to leave your tongue in any sort of sensible manner, but Ari understands them, grinning hungrily as he picks up the pace. He skims your clit with his thumb, and you can feel the sparks skittering up your spine and you gasp as he does it again and again—

“Come on, Sweetheart, you’ve got one more in there for me, don’t you?” He mutters, angling his hips up into yours as you writhe against him. “Wanna feel it on my cock—mmm, fuck—” You do, leaning forward to bury your face against his chest as you wail, your cunt clamping down around him like a fist. Ari curls his massive body over yours as he empties into you, his hips pressing softly against yours. He holds you there, his cock jerking and throbbing inside of you as he mumbles soft ‘mm’’s and ‘yeah, fuck yeah’’s into your hair until he’s done. 

You stay like that, your body buzzing as the warm water streaming down over you. Eventually, when you can no longer feel the hammer of his heart against your cheek, he pulls out, and you press your lips together in embarrassed amusement at the crinkle of latex. He knots it off before tossing it into the trash bin. Your cheeks burn as Ari cleans between your legs, cupping your swollen cunt with an appreciative hum. He slides his fingers through the folds of your sticky sex, and your breath hitches. 

“I’m just cleaning you up, Mouse, I promise.” He’s true to his word, there’s   hungry, lustful intensity in his touches, only care. You str heady yourself against his shoulder, and your heart drops at the  sight of his bandages. The center is tinged with a pink circle, and as you stare at it, it darkens a little. 

“You’re bleeding.” Ari looks down at his shoulder and grimaces.

“Occupational hazard, Mouse. I’ll be fine.” He attempts to reassure you with a smile, but it doesn’t completely do away with the cold feeling in your belly.

“We’re going to need to change these, at least,” you say, fingering the edge of his wet bandage. “I think Zemo will be mad if we don’t.”

“He’s always mad.” Ari replies, and you laugh. “But yes. We’ll change them” 

It somehow feels more intimate to stand there in the shower with Ari, slowly washing off the events of the last day and a half. He shampoos your hair, rubbing it in gently at the roots with the tips of his fingers. When you’re finally done, he helps you towel off, before producing a generic grey sweatshirt and pants from one of the cupboards after a bit of rummaging. 

When the two of you return to the garage, dewy cheeked and differently clothed, Irene snorts. 

“Had a good time, did you?” 

—

Dove won’t stop crying. 

Andy isn’t a bad father, he knows he’s not, but for some reason, he can’t get her calmed down. Her little fists are clenched tight, beating the air above her head with a frustration Andy as her father, cannot seem to quell. He bounces his daughter tiredly as he paces around the nursery, mumbling soothing baby speak as he rubs circles on her back. 

She’s been wailing practically nonstop since Pronge had delivered her, his expression grim as he’d handed her over. 

I couldn’t get your wife.

Andy had wanted to rage, then, and he almost had, itching to slam the whiskey glass in his hand into Robert’s face for the trouble—but Dove’s fussing had provided a sufficient reminder that it might not be appropriate to do so. She cries herself to sleep, hiccoughing in his arms until her breathing evens. Andy carefully lays her down in the crib, stroking his hand over the curve of her cheek. He closes the door to the nursery, and to his disgust, Robert Pronge stands in the hallway, the decanter of whiskey from his office held in his hand. He takes a swig from it. 

“Who else was with her?” 

Pronge grimaces. “Irene. And her new assistant. Fucker’s as big as a goddamn house. Name’s Ari Levinson, he owns some shithole bar.” Andy’s eyes narrow.

“Get out.” He shoulders past the killer in his hallway, not bothering to take back the bottle.

“And do what, exactly?” He sneers. 

“Finish your goddamn job, and find my wife.” Andy waits to hear the sound of the front door before returning to his office. He’d had you—and you’d slipped right through his fingers again. You wouldn’t want to be apart from Dove, at least, that much he could be sure of. You’re a good mother, regardless of the doubts he knows he’ll have to plant in your beautiful head to get you to stay. 

Ari Levinson. 

The name is unfamiliar, and a search through both Massachusetts and New York state databases return no results. He does, however, get pings on basic search engines.

Ari Levinson. Dishonorable discharge, tried for murder, dismissed as self defense.

Now that is interesting.

It’s after midnight when he finally decides to turn in for the night, and as he closes his office door, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He reaches for it, frowning at the unfamiliar number—but then his eyes widen at the caller I.D. 

Albany.

“Hello?” At first, there’s only grainy silence on the other end, until finally, you speak. 

“I’m ready to talk, Andy.” 

He smiles. “Oh, Honey. I knew you would be.” 

to be continued…

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[beyondthesefourwalls]

Remember You Even When I Don't (5)

Summary: A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement.

Words: 5.4K

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw/Reader (no use of y/n, so can be read as unnamed oc)

Warnings: angst, hospitals, memory loss, language, eventual smut

Notes: The response for this continues to blow me away. Thank you all so much! Hearing your thoughts about these two makes me so happy and is so encouraging to write a little bit faster. Please continue to comment and reblog, and my inbox is always open! I love to talk about these two :)

This was inspired by a one shot by the lovely @roosterforme and would not exist without her assistance. If you haven't read any of her stuff, please check out her masterlist - you won't be disappointed! All of the thanks to her and @mak-32 for being the best cheerleaders and friends I could ask for!

Buckle in, folks!

-----

He spends that first night tossing and turning, fighting to find sleep. It’s hard for him to be down the hall, knowing you were so close, yet so far out of his reach. In only a few days, he had gotten used to falling asleep and waking up with you in the chair beside his bed. The next morning, you somehow look more tired now than you had the whole time he was in the hospital, and he was sure that he was the same. 

Being here was different than he anticipated. Part of him expected to walk into this house and have every memory he’d lost rush back to him in technicolor. He was disappointed when that didn’t happen, and he thinks that even if you won’t say it, you are, too. 

He didn’t remember anything, but his instincts were there. He knew which drawer held the utensils and which cabinet housed plates and bowls and which one had coffee cups. He knew where the two of you kept Florry’s food and that her treats were kept in one of the drawers in the coffee table. It was muscle memory, he supposed. 

But his brain tickled sometimes, like it wanted to remember something but couldn’t. He often felt that frustrating sensation of something being right there on the tip of his tongue, but he’s unable to produce exactly what it is. 

He dreams every night. His subconscious creates scenes of flying and crashing ocean waves, of snow covered streets and twinkle lights. He swears your laughter echoes in his ears when he rouses to consciousness. 

He doesn’t know if they’re memories, or if they’re figments brought on by the yearning he feels toward you the longer he’s around you. Either way, they’re never quite clear enough for him to even ask you about them. But he sneaks into your office one night and swipes a pen and a pad of sticky notes and takes to writing down all the details he can recall when he wakes up. 

Over the first few days of being home, the two of you get into a tentative routine. You somehow wake before he does, and there’s coffee waiting for him when he makes his way downstairs. You’re not much of a breakfast person, but you make him eggs and bacon and toast or whatever he’s in the mood for, even if he insists you don’t have to. You take him to his follow up appointments or evaluations, which takes up his time until the early afternoon. The two of you have taken to grabbing lunch while you’re out everyday, before going back to the home you share and making yourselves busy until dinner.

He finds himself wanting to touch you more. There were no more forehead kisses, but his knee will knock against yours sometimes when the two of you are eating. He always holds the door open for you whenever you two are out, and sometimes you’ll brush against him just so when you’re passing by. When the two of you are walking somewhere, his fingers twitch to hold onto yours. He’s taken to placing his hand near your lower back, not quite touching you, but close enough where he can feel your body heat. 

You like to curl up in the corner of your sectional couch, and he feels like you’re a million miles away when he sits on the other end. 

Getting to know you again is a whirlwind of feelings he doesn’t understand. You’re kind, and beautiful, and you make him laugh. He has near constant butterflies in his stomach whenever you’re around. 

He knows himself well enough to know that he’s developed feelings for you, and the concept makes his head hurt, knowing this isn’t the first time but not remembering it. He doesn’t mention it to you, because he doesn’t know if it would make things better or worse. 

He wants to ask you questions about the two of you, too. You told him how you met, but he wants to know what your first date was like. He wants to know who said I love you first, though he thinks it was him. He wants to know how he proposed after only 4 months of knowing you and he wants to know why you said yes. 

He wants to know everything, but he can’t bring himself to ask. Part of him is scared of the answers.

He’s seen the way you look at him, sometimes. Like it breaks your heart for him to be there with you, even though he knows how relieved you are for him to be. You don’t say anything to him, but he knows that you’re struggling. You do your best to always keep a smile on your face around him, but it’s your eyes that give you away, combined with this deep instinct he seems to have when it comes to you and your emotions.

After dinner every night, you’ve been finding yourselves sitting out on the back porch. The weather has been getting cooler and watching the sun go down with you has become his favorite part of being home. You avoid anything too heavy, too intimate, but you regale him with different tales from the last few years with your friends and your individual careers, or of you before you knew him, but the light in your eye is dim whenever you finish a tale and there’s no recognition in his. 

He’s worried about you, but he doesn’t know if he has the right to tell you that. There’s something of a tension building in the air, and he can’t figure out how to cut through it just yet.  

But he enjoys getting to know you again, and he hangs onto your every word. He loves every single moment the two of you have together and craves more of them. Even the most mundane of things, like when he went with you to the grocery store of all places. Phoenix had loaded their kitchen with essentials, but there was a specific recipe you were wanting to make that you swore he would love but that you needed a few things for. You looked surprised when he had asked if he could go with you, but pleased at the same time. 

He pushed the cart as you checked things off your list and god, he loved watching you. You were looking up and down the aisle you were standing in, seemingly a little puzzled, and he was completely enraptured. 

“I can never remember where the dates are,” you muttered, and he thinks it might have been only to yourself, but he couldn’t help but smirk a little bit. 

“On a calendar?” 

You shot him a look, looking incredulous but amused, and smacked him lightly on the arm with the list you were carrying. The touch sent a shot of electricity through him and he laughed, feeling warm. “Ow.” 

“Okay, you comedian,” you rolled your eyes playfully, “I was going to make you dessert, but maybe I won’t now,” 

“No, come on,” he laughed, pushing the cart forward, nodding his head to the side, “They’re in the next aisle over,” 

You stop walking, and after a second, Bradley does too, realizing what he just said. He turns to you and you’re looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes. He thinks he might see a little bit of pride in them, too. And it’s so silly, getting choked up by instinctively remembering where something is in a grocery store he can never remember being in, but he feels a lump in his throat anyway. He coughs, trying to dislodge the emotion. You don’t say a word, maybe sensing the moment that he’s having, but you squeeze his arm when you pass by him on your way to the aisle he indicated. After a moment, he follows behind you. 

He thinks he would follow you anywhere. 

————

It’s a Friday and he's been home for eight days now. He has a headache when he wakes up that morning, and he can’t remember anything notable from the previous night's dream to write down in his notebook. Part of him wants to go back to sleep and try again, but he pushes himself out of bed anyway. 

Like she had been the last few days, Florry is laying at the guest room door when he opens it. She looks up and meows at him, nuzzling into his hand when he squats down to scratch her head for a moment before she gets up and struts away. He snorts at her, amused at how as soon as she gets what she wants, she moves on to something else. 

He makes his way downstairs slowly, feeling like a drum is pounded right in his ear with every step. There’s a distinct spice in the air as he walks toward the kitchen, and it takes a few sniffs before he places it. 

“Pumpkin?” 

To his surprise, you gasp, and the knife you were holding slips from your grasp and clatters to the granite countertop. You jumped back from it, but your wide eyes were looking straight at him. 

“What did you just call me?”

“What?” 

“You said - you called me Pumpkin.” 

This was one of those significant moments that he was missing. Bradley suddenly felt incredibly awkward, and a little ashamed. A flush crept up his neck to warm his cheeks in the worst way. 

“I uh - I was talking about the smell.”

Watching your face fall cuts him worse than the knife you had been holding ever could. For a brief moment, he saw raw devastation completely overcome you. He starts to say your name, but you cut him off before he can.

“I’m making pumpkin banana pancakes,” you tell him after a moment. You pick the knife back up to continue cutting up the fruit you had on the cutting board. He wants to ask you what had just happened, but bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself. He’s frustrated that he can’t remember, and the hurt in your eyes was making his head pound harder. He hates that he’s putting you through this. 

The two of you eat breakfast together, but it’s quieter than it normally is. The air was awkward, tense, and it seemed that neither one of you really knew what to say. 

The day had only gotten worse from there. He was late for his doctor's appointment because the two of you had gotten stuck in traffic, and there was little he hated more in life than being late. His headache had only gotten worse, and he hadn’t been cleared to drive or go back to any sort of desk duty yet. To top it all off, the two of you had run into someone you knew during a near silent lunch and he had to awkwardly push himself through the conversation while pretending he did, too ashamed to actually say he had no idea who he was. 

By the time you returned back home, he was in a sour mood, and he really wanted to go back to bed. 

“Do you need anything?” you asked softly, hovering between the kitchen and living room as he settled himself on the couch unceremoniously. 

“No,” he said shortly, pulling a blanket over him. 

You sigh, and he’s irritated with himself for making you feel bad, too. 

“I’m going to go up to my office for a bit then, okay?” he doesn’t respond. When you sigh, he’s irritated with himself even more for making you feel bad, too. “You can come up and get me if you need anything.” 

Bradley tries to nap the afternoon away, but it’s more fitful than restful. He tosses and turns on the couch. Florry jumps on him at one point, waking him from one of his dozes. 

He closes his eyes, trying again to find some sort of sleep, but nothing comes for him. His mind was moving a little too quickly now, and the guilt was setting in. He had been short with you almost all day, and even if he was frustrated, you didn’t deserve that. You were frustrated too, even if you wouldn’t say it. 

Sometimes he wishes you would.

Why the hell did this happen to him after everything else in his life?

His dad, and then his mom, and Mav pulling his papers. He still hasn’t brought himself to reach out to the man he had apparently reconciled with, but you’ve mentioned how he’s asked after him whenever the two of you speak, as had the rest of the crew. It’s frustrating, suddenly having all these people in his life who he views as family, only to have no recollection of who they are. Seeing himself in all of these pictures that are throughout the house constantly boggles his mind. He hates being so confused all the time. 

He hates that he can’t remember you, and that you spend all of your days trying to be strong for him. 

He groans, running a hand roughly over his face. After another 45 minutes of staring at the ceiling fan spin, he throws the blanket off of his legs and forces himself up. He couldn’t do much, but he could at least apologize. 

He drags himself up the stairs slowly, trying to figure out exactly what to say. The door to your office is pulled closed for the first time since he’s come home; he tries not to read into that as you wanting him to stay away. He goes to take a step closer and knock, but your voice through the door stops him. 

“The timing is awful, Jake.”

His eyebrows furrowed together. The only Jake he knew was Hangman, and he hasn’t wrapped his mind completely around the fact that he was apparently one of his best friends now. 

“Bringing a baby into this would make everything so much more complicated. He’s struggling enough as it is. You think suddenly becoming a father would make this all better? The test being negative is for the best.” 

He sucks in a breath, feeling like he just got suckerpunched right in the stomach. He braces himself against the hallway wall with one hand, unsure if he heard you correctly. 

“I’m okay,” you say, and he wishes he could hear both sides of the conversation. He feels like he’s going to pass out. “I promise.” 

There’s another pause, and you let out a small laugh, “I might take you up on that, J.” 

Bradley backs away from the door, his mind going a thousand miles a minute as he tries to process what just happened. 

A baby? You were talking about having a baby. You had mentioned a test. Had you taken it recently? Since he had been home? Why hadn’t you told him, if you had? Was this something that had happened before his accident and just another thing that he forgot? 

He’s your husband. He may not remember it, but he was. Didn’t he have a right to know? 

He stews for a while, and that’s his biggest mistake. He’s scared, and bizarrely disappointed, he’s hurt, but most of all he’s angry. He’s angry that you’re talking to other people about something so personal, but not him. And Hangman, of all people. It festers inside of him, and by the time you come back downstairs, he’s sizzling in it.

“How does chicken and asparagus sound for dinner?” You’re smiling as you walk into the room, but it drops when you see the look in his face. “Are you alright?”

“You thought you were pregnant?”

The color drains from your face, and he knows he has his answer. He stands up from the couch to face you, his thoughts jumbled together, fighting for dominance in his head. You had thought you were pregnant. And you didn’t tell him. 

“How did you know that?” 

“I overheard you on the phone with Hangman,” he practically spits the name, feeling his anger swell even more. “When did you take it?” 

“Bradley-” 

“When did you take the test?” 

You let out a long, shaky breath. You’re twisting your ring around your finger again, and your eyes are starting to glass up, but he forces himself not to focus on any of that. “Yesterday,” you admit softly, “I took it yesterday.” 

He groans, running a hand through his hair. You both had been in this house almost all day yesterday. He had been right here. “Why wouldn’t you tell me? I could have been there with you!”

“Bradley-” 

“Why wouldn’t you tell me that we’d been trying to have kids before I got hurt?” 

“Bradley, I really don’t think we should talk about this right now,” you said, trying to remain as calm as possible, but he was already way past that point. 

“Well I want to talk about it,” he snaps, “Why would you keep this from me?”

“I’m not keeping anything from you!” you say, your voice rising to meet his. “We aren’t trying for a baby, Bradley. It was a scare. That’s all.”

“But you still took a test! And you didn’t tell me!” 

“There was nothing to tell,” you try, but Bradley shakes his head as his anger reaches a boiling point. 

“Not to me, apparently. You told fucking Hangman about it, but not me? Aren’t I the one who is supposed to be your husband?”

“Yeah, Bradley. You are,” you finally snap, your voice raising for the first time, “But how the hell was I supposed to tell you when you don’t even remember who I am?” 

It was a low blow, but Bradley has never been one to back down.

“I’m trying!” he yells, and you startle back at just how loud he is, “I’m trying every single day. You think I don’t want to remember you? Someone I apparently almost had a kid with? Someone who I want to care for and protect even though I have no idea why? I know this sucks for you, but think about what I’m going through here.” 

“You think I’m not thinking about you?” you demand, shaking your head, “You’re all I’ve been thinking about, Bradley!” 

“Am I?,” he asks, and your mouth drops at the words, but he keeps going anyway even though every instinct in him is screaming at him to shut up. “I trust you without being able to remember you, but it’s hard to do that if you keep things from me. I have no idea what the fuck is going on the majority of the time and you’re the only one I have who will tell me things. Or don’t you want me to remember?” 

The words came out harsher than he anticipated. The look on your face made him wish that he could take them back. His anger dissipated as he saw the tears that had been welling up in your eyes finally fall. 

Your name left his lips, but you cut him off before an apology could follow behind.

“Of course I do,” you choked out, a sob catching in your throat. It looks like there’s more you want to say, but after a moment, you just shake your head, your breathing labored. “I think I’m going to go for a walk.”

Those weren’t the words he expected. Alarm bells are ringing loudly in his head, demanding he fix what he’s done here. 

“What?”

“I need some air,” you explain, your voice cracking. His heart ached watching you gather your phone and keys. 

He speaks your name again, pleading and reaching out for you as you step toward the front door. To his surprise, you ripped your arm out of his grasp. “You don’t call me that,” you snapped. Bradley’s eyes widened. He watches as you take a deep breath, steadying yourself. 

“I’ll be back in a little bit,” you promise. You don’t look at him as you grab a pair of shoes from the closet by the front door, slipping them on. You don’t slam the door when you leave, but the sound of it closing still echoes like gunfire to him. 

He sinks back onto the couch, his aching head in his hands, wondering what the hell he had just done.

————

An hour has passed and you still weren’t back yet. Bradley has taken to pacing back and forth through the living room, peeking out of the curtains by the front door. He shouldn’t have let you leave when you were that upset. He shouldn’t have made you that upset to begin with. He was out of line.

When he really thinks about it with a clearer mind, he understands to an extent why you didn’t tell him about taking the test. He was virtually a stranger to you right now. There would have been little point to filling him in right now when it would have just panicked and confused him. He knows, deep down, that if the test would have been positive that you would have told him. But he had been so scared at that moment, overhearing you on the phone like that. And if he really admitted it to himself, he was jealous, too. He wanted to be the one you confided in for all of those things, big or small, certainty or uncertainty. But he had done nothing to really earn that. 

It wasn’t fair that he accused you of not thinking about him, either. It was so clear in everything that the two of you did that you were taking him into consideration. You had stayed with him every single day in the hospital. You had taken an impromptu leave of absence from work and drove him to all of his appointments. You cooked all of his meals for him and made sure he took his medicine on time and were readily available if he needed anything. You did everything you could to make him as comfortable as he could possibly be in this impossibly uncomfortable situation. You had sacrificed everything for him, and he was a jerk to you in response. 

He really, really wants you to come home soon. 

He had gotten his phone back, but he hadn’t brought himself around to touching it yet, knowing it would be full of a whole life that he wasn’t ready to face yet. Would you even answer if he called at this point? 

Maybe he could go look for you instead. 

Right when he’s about to grab his shoes, he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He heaves a sigh of relief when he sees you climbing the steps to the back porch through the window in the kitchen.

You must have come through the back gate instead. He doesn’t even care if it was because you wanted to avoid running into him immediately, so long as you were safe. 

You don’t unlock the door or move to enter the house. Instead, he watches as you settle into one of the plush chairs you have out there below the window that faces into the yard. Your back is to him now, but he’s breathing easier that you’re in his line of sight; you’re okay. 

He lets you be, for a little while. But after another 20 minutes had passed and the sun started setting without you coming inside, he couldn’t take it anymore. He was vibrating with the need to be near you again, to talk to you and apologize. He didn’t like being on the outs with you like this, and he knew it was mostly his fault. 

Your knees are tucked into your chest and your head leant back, but he could see that your eyes were open. They turned to him when he cracked open the door. 

“Hey,” he said simply. 

“Hey.” Your voice is still thick with the tears you had cried earlier. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, knowing he was the one who caused it. 

“Do you mind if I join you out here?” 

“Sure.” 

He steps out onto the porch, sliding the door shut behind him. You look back out into the orange covering your background as he sinks into the chair next to you. 

“How uh..how was your walk?” 

“It was fine,” you respond, hugging your knees a little bit closer. You go to push a piece of hair behind your ear and your ring glints in the setting sun. 

“I was worried about you,” he whispers, barely loud enough for you to hear him. But you do, turning your head to look at him. For the first time, he can’t quite read the look on your face. He takes a shaky breath, rubbing his palms on his thighs as he tries to figure out his words. “I’m sorry,” he finally says. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I shouldn’t have kept something that big from you.” 

He shakes his head, because blaming yourself is the last thing he wants for you. “You were looking out for me,” he says, “I understand that now. You…you would have told me, if the results were different. I know that.” 

You nod, not saying anything, and Bradley sighs out your name again. “It wasn’t fair for me to snap at you like that. To yell at you like that. I-I’m so sorry.” 

“You’re going through a lot right now.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, “but so are you. All of this, me being hurt and not….” he cuts himself off, but by the way you close your eyes and let a tear slip down your cheek, you knew exactly what he was going to say. 

Not remembering us. 

“I’ll never be mad at you for being injured, baby,” you say quietly. The term of endearment takes him by surprise. You were always careful with calling him by his name in an unnecessary effort to make him more comfortable; part of him wondered if you were trying to curb his own guilt. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says back. He desperately wants you to know that. You take a shuddering breath at the words. 

“This isn’t your fault,” you say it like it’s an oath, so much so that he almost believes you. But it was hard to do that when there were tears sliding down your cheeks. 

“Having you here is harder than I thought it would be,” you admitted so quietly that Bradley could barely hear you. “It’s like a part of me is missing, even though you’re right here in front of me. And I know it’s hard for you to not remember anything, and I’m being selfish-“ 

“You aren’t being selfish.”

You chuckle humorlessly, wiping away at your tears. 

“I’m serious,” he says, and his fingers itch to reach for you. “I think you may be the most selfless person I’ve ever met. You’ve done nothing but take care of me the last two weeks, even when I was in the hospital.” 

“I’ll always take care of you,” you promise, “You’re the most important person in the world to me, Bradley.” 

He doesn’t quite know how to respond to that at first, overcome with the emotions that it caused. He thinks that he would do anything for you, too. 

“I want to remember you,” he finds himself saying, and your eyes shoot to him again, startled at the words. He nods. “I’m not-I’m not good at saying how I feel. But I’ve never, ever felt like I do when I’m with you. You give me butterflies. And I have this instinctual urge to protect you and make you happy. Being around you has been the best part of everyday, even if I’m so confused the whole time.” 

You sniffle as more tears fall. 

“You say all those things about me,” he continues, “and how you’ll always take care of me. And I know I would do the same for you. Even now.”

He lets out a shaky breath, ”It’s like I know who you are right here,” he taps his hand against his chest over his heart, and you let out a small sob. He raises his hand to tap his fingers against his forehead, too. “But I think I need your help to remember you here, okay?”

“I can do that,” you hiccup, nodding rapidly. “We can do it together.”

“That sounds nice.” It really, really does. He returns your soft, watery smile, and he revels in how your eyes shine in the moonlight that had appeared, looking at him like he really was something special to you. 

“Can I -” you stop, clearing your throat and shaking your head as if you’re trying to talk yourself out of something. 

“What?” he encourages. 

“Nothing.” 

“No,” he insists, “please. Tell me.” 

“Can I ask you to do something for me?” 

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation in his answer; he wants to do whatever he could for you. 

Your breathing is shaky, and your voice is as small as he had heard it since he’d opened his eyes and had no idea who you were to him. Your eyes are bright with tears and dull with heartache all at the same time, but you’re still so heartbreakingly beautiful to him. 

“You tell me everyday. Multiple times most days, and even when you’re deployed, I don’t think you’ve gone this long without saying it somehow. I’ve been wanting to hear it so bad since I got the call you were hurt, because I knew it would mean that you’re okay, and I know you aren’t okay, but you’re here and that’s all that really matters and I-” 

He whispers your name to stop your rambling, worried about how tightly you were wringing your hands together and how quickly your breaths were coming. “What is it?” 

“Can you just…tell me you love me? Please?” 

Tears spring to his eyes this time, hating himself for putting you in this situation where you ever, ever had to ask him for something like this. The him from three weeks ago would hate the him sitting here right now. Hell, current him hates himself a little bit. He pushes that hatred aside, though, because this is something he can do. You’re going through misery because of him and this is the first request you had of him.

He doesn’t stop himself this time from reaching out for you. He drops to his knees in front of the chair you were curled up in, cupping your face in his hands. You gasp softly through your tears, reaching up and gripping his wrists in your own hands. He likes to think it was because you wanted to hold him there against you. Even with your tears splashing against his skin, it feels so right, touching you like this. 

You were breathing the same air as one another. He wipes a tear away when it hit his skin. He waits until your glassy eyes lock with his own to whisper the words: “I love you.” 

And he knows, in the deepest depths of his soul, even after so little time passing since being reintroduced to you, that it’s true. He feels a peace settle over him that hadn’t been there before; a missing piece slotting into place, even if the puzzle is nowhere near complete. Saying it feels so, so right, and he can’t help but close the distance between the two of you. It’s a gentle touch, but your lips are so soft against his that he leans into it. 

There's electricity burning under his skin. 

Something flickers in his mind, like a light struggling to turn on. A burnt orange dress and a Cinderella reference, cobblestone streets and a latte that tastes better on your lips than in the cup. There’s a word right there, and he struggles for a moment to grasp onto it. But when he does, it’s like he’s seeing in color after being in a black and white movie. 

“Pumpkin,” he breathes against your lips, “I call you Pumpkin.” 

You sob, then, nodding your head. You’re so close that he can feel your nose brushing against his. You kiss him again, the salt of your tears mixing with his. Your hands move from where they had been grasping his wrists to wrap around his body and you let yourself fall into him, slipping from the chair to meet him on the ground. 

When you pull away from his kiss, you bury your face in his neck, still crying softly. He holds you against him tightly. 

“I’m right here,” he says into your hair like a promise, pressing his lips wherever he can reach, “we’ll remember everything together.”

----

Part Six :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: I hope you liked this one! Would love to hear any thoughts you may have :)

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#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw #top gun fanfiction #tgm fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster x reader #Bradley bradshaw fic #alli writes #Bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster imagine #bradley bradshaw angst #Bradley Bradshaw fanfiction #rooster bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw x you #rooster x you

[florence-nomachine]

hi! I was wondering if I could request something angst/fluff where the reader defends Mike to his aunt Jane and the custody case worker about how he gives his all to take care of Abby by himself? I wish someone could have advocated for him during the scene where they discuss the case and his aunt talks down on him a lot :’( thanks so much for sharing your writing!

A/N: Hi Anon, thank you for the ask and being patient! My inbox was a little crazy…It wasn’t specified what relationship they have, so it’s neutral, and can be read platonically or romantically. I hope you like it :) 

When Mike had asked you to accompany him to a meeting with Abby’s safeguarding officer and their she-devil of a relative - Aunt Jane - you’d said dropped your things without hesitation. You knew it was going to be rough, as the woman had been on him practically since the day their mother had been buried, but you never expected to be blindsided. Still, from the moment you’d walked into the room and seen the catatonic man with a briefcase clutched to his chest, you knew it wasn’t going to be good.

“Just look at my nephew — It's not even 10:00 and he can barely keep his eyes open!” 

That’s because he can’t sleep properly. He’s literally on prescription pills, but you wouldn’t know that, would you?

“And this degenerate is who they trust with the wellbeing of a mentally ill child?”

Degenerate was such a strong, vile word. You’d visibly flinched at it, both in disgust and agitation. Mike hadn’t seemed to react, but you knew that deep down he was internalising each and every word that was leaving the woman’s mouth. 

Abby is not mentally ill, she’s just introverted. All kids are different. 

“You’re the doctor, and you're making me feel like I'm the crazy one - and after what he did to that poor man…”

Oh, of course it was time to break out the tears. Luckily no one - bar herself - was buying it, instead producing a deep collective sigh shared between yourself, Mike and Valerie. Even though the display was all fabricated, you knew that there was a darker side to her behaviour. She’d probably grown up entitled; being able to cry her way out of things so she could mould her victim and bend those in her path to her will. You were livid, and you were sure Mike was too.

“I have tried to play nice - but I have to think about Abby now…Enough is enough - Doug —” 

The click of the briefcase and a rustling of papers brought the final blow. She wanted custody, and there was a high chance that - should the case go to court - she would get it. From the corner of your eye, you cast a glance over at Mike, watching as he let out a sigh and straightened his back as he came to terms with what was in front of him. His hands trembled slightly, and he bit his lip, mind likely racing to find the appropriate words. With a cocked brow he looked up at you, and you ran your tongue over your lips before pursing them. 

You didn’t want to hold back anymore.

“Pardon my language, but this is bullshit,” you spoke, and Jane seemed amused by your sudden aggression. Valerie looked at you with wide eyes, but subtly nodded her head for you to go on. “Mike is a good carer, and he has been for the past few years,”

“Have you not listened to anything at all?” the blonde woman scoffed. “Abby is sick. She’s not progressing like her peers,”

“Obviously, sickness runs in the family,” you said pointedly. “We’ll all be damned if Abby has a fraction of whatever you’ve got going on up there,”

“Are you implying that I’m some sort of sociopath? It’ll say a lot when a judge grants her to me instead of him,”

“Can you stop using Abby as some kind of bargaining chip?” you said, rolling your eyes. “She’s a human. A growing girl who’s lost her family at such a young age, and Mike is the only real person she has left! Yes, he’s made mistakes, but what parent hasn’t?”

Mike’s heart swelled slightly at the flippant use of such a strong word. He was always the ‘older brother’, forgetting that he was basically two things.

“Mike was barely an adult when your sister died, but he’s done a hell of a job becoming one. He’s never missed a doctor's appointment, spends half of whatever shit salary he earns on keeping clothes on her back, and he’s even sitting here silently, not acting out because Abby means just that much to him– ” you spat, feeling your heart race as it pumped blood furiously around your body. Pausing, you loosened your jaw and dropped your shoulders. Your voice had certainly escalated, and the last thing you needed was to be detained.

Mike’s brown eyes were wide, and there was a small smile that lay hidden under his flushed face. He didn’t need to say anything for you to know that he’d really fucking needed that.

“--- Take it from someone with experience…You don’t separate those two. They’re a package deal.” you said softly, glancing over at him again, reminiscing on the moment you’d met them. Being close to the pair, you’d seen it all; the good, the bad and the frequently ugly, but you’d never once doubted Abby’s love for her brother. It was evident that your speech, in the grand scheme of things, didn’t mean much, but you knew you were going to fight like hell beside Mike to make it a small part of a larger story.

They were going to get their happy ending.

#request fill #florence writes!! #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf x reader #mike and abby schmidt #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt fluff #mike schdmit x reader fluff #gn! reader #fnaf x gn! reader #mike schmidt x male reader #fnaf x male reader

[vicsnook]

Moving Everywhere But On | Jake Seresin x Reader

word count: 1659

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, 18+

notes: Hey y’all! Happy New Year 🎆! Hope everyone is doing well and that your holidays were amazing!! I will try this year to regularly post Jake on Sundays as previously promised. Hope you enjoy this one and as always please don’t forget to like & reblog 🫶🏼

Moving was something you absolutely dreaded despite having done it your whole childhood due to your father’s navy career. However you thought you’d put those days behind you when you decided to date a doctor instead of a certain navy pilot. But oh how wrong you were as you watched your father and best friend load the boxes onto the truck from the house you’d once shared with your now ex-fiancé, Tom.

Setting down the key on the kitchen counter, you took one last look around what you once thought would be your future. Inevitably replaying the image of your neighbor and Tom fucking on the living room couch. Thankfully the horn of the moving truck snapped you out of the painful memory as you made your way out of the house and shut the door to that chapter, forever.

“You ready to do this, darlin’?” Jake asks quietly as you shut the truck door and settle into the seat, his hand reaching over to squeeze yours reassuringly as you weakly nod in response. A feeling of relief overtakes you as you catch sight of your dad in the moving truck following close behind you both.

—

The rest of the drive was uneventful, except for Jake’s attempts to cheer you up by singing off key. Your new apartment was small but to you it was exactly what you needed, a new beginning. Jake and your father set up your bed while you unpacked the living room which unsurprisingly didn’t take long since you’d sold a lot of your old things. All that was left to unpack was your kitchen, office, and the rest of your bedroom which you’d probably tackle tomorrow.

You waved your dad goodbye as he pulled out of the parking lot and joined Jake back up at the apartment. His back was to you and you watched quietly as he set up your nightstand, carefully putting your lamp and books in the same spot you had them before. You felt a tinge of regret for having turned him down all those years ago all because you didn’t want to deal with the Navy life and craved stability.

You’d loved Jake since the moment he sat next to you in Spanish class in high school and yet you gave it all up, just for everything to blow up in your face in the end. He must’ve sensed you looking since he turned towards you and shot you one of his signature half smiles making your heart flutter.

“You’re just gonna keep staring or are you going to help me out here?” He teases as you lend him a hand to help him up. The distance between your bodies becoming almost non-existent now. Backing up you stuttered out that you were going to shower, hurrying for the bathroom.

Leaning against the closed bathroom door you willed your heart to slow-down. 4 years was not enough to stop loving Jake Seresin and you were overcome with that currently. The hot water did little to soothe your thoughts about wanting to feel Jake’s lips on yours.

The cold air had you shivering for your towel as soon as you stepped out of the shower, only to realize you didn’t grab one. “Jake! Could you bring me a towel please?” You holler, but get no response. Peeking your head out the door you don’t see him either.

Figuring maybe he stepped out you have the lousy idea to make a run for the hall towel closet, only to stumble into Jake as soon as you open the door, his hand holding the towel you called for. Your eyes lock with his and you can feel your cheeks growing red with embarrassment as you take the towel from his outstretched hand and wrap yourself around it.

“Why didn’t you answer when I called for you?” You ask, trying to hide the nerves in your voice. Reminding yourself that it’s just Jake, which also seems to be the problem, that it is just Jake. “Sorry I wasn't thinking straight.” He shrugs, to which you nod and he puts one hand on the back of his neck which he only does when he’s nervous. The awkward silence growing thicker by the second but you can’t seem to snap out of it.

“Well, I should shower too, I left my phone in the living room so you can doordash us some food. You know the code.” He says, finally breaking the silence and turning around to go grab a towel before you can answer. The feeling of awkwardness was not something that you were familiar with around him but you try to shrug it off as you grab his phone to order food.

It’s not until Jake comes out of the bathroom with only a towel hanging around his waist that you realize you’re also still only wearing a towel. You can’t help but stare at his toned chest and muscular arms, longing to feel them under your hands and as he makes his way towards you, your breath catching in your throat.

“Be a doll and pass me my bag, sweetheart?” He asks coming to stand in front of you. His waist lining up to your face as you mentally curse yourself for choosing what feels like a very low couch. “Honey?” He takes your chin between his thumb and finger and turns your head up to look at him.

His gorgeous forest green eyes stare into yours and you can’t seem to form any coherent words. But at once you’re saved by the doorbell. Snapping back into reality you spring up from the couch, nearly falling over if it wasn’t for Jake catching you and steadying you in his arms. But you have no time to ponder about the action as the doorbell rings again.

You open the door and are grateful that the driver is now down the hall and had left your food on the doorstep. Jake’s still standing by the couch as you set the food down on the table, his eyes watching your every move. “Are you just gonna keep staring, Lieutenant?” You say playfully, hoping thebpet name still has the same effect it once did. His face turns up into that cocky smirk as he smoothly replies. “I thought you knew what happens when you play with fire, dolly.” Your flace flushes as you walk towards him, not stopping until you’re once again face to face with him.

Trying to seem confident you step impossibly closer to him, putting one hand on his chest before replying “Why don’t you teach me, Hangman?”

His hand grabs onto your waist and you know there’s no turning back. Maybe this is exactly what you need. “I don’t want to be just some rebound to you” He whispers, your lips nearly touching at the action. “You could never be a rebound Jacob, not when I never stopped loving you.” You reply, and you’ve never been more sure of anything as you close the space between you both.

His lips were softer than you remembered as he kissed you softly like you could break at any moment. You tugged on his hair causing him to grunt, granting your tongue access into his mouth. His hands squeezed your ass while you bit his bottom lip and you could feel yourself getting wetter as he pushed you against the wall.

You could see the hunger in his eyes as you pulled away and he went for that spot right under your ear that drove you crazy. The sound of his name leaving your lips was enough to make him lift you up and have you wrap your legs around him.

He carefully walks over to the couch and sits down with you still on top of him and you rock back and forth on his cock as he swirls his tongue around your nipple. The friction of his cock on your clit feels heavenly but you want more, you need more.

“Jake, more, please,” You beg into his ear, his eyes gleaming at your request. “Are you still on birth control, baby?” He asks, as you continue to rock against his cock. “Mhmm” You moan in response and that’s all it takes for him to lift you up and line himself with your entrance.

He slowly leads you down, letting you get adjusted to his length. The feeling of him stretching you open is almost enough to send you over the edge. “You’re taking my cock so good, doll.” He praises, his accent making you swoon as you reach the hilt of his cock.

You dig your nails into his biceps as he begins to thrust up into you making you lean forward into him. “Fa-a-s-te-r” You manage to utter as his thumb presses on to your clit and his pace starts to increase.

Pleasure is washing over you, and you can feel your legs start to shake as he thrusts faster and harder into you. Moans and groans fill your apartment as you both reach for that high. “God baby you’re so tight, are you gonna cum for me?”

His words are enough to push you over the edge. Hunching forward onto his neck as he continues to thrust into you seeking his own release. “Fuck baby, you feel so good,” he grunts, you lift your head slightly and kiss his neck in response. No one could ever send you over the edge this quickly.

His legs trembled as he sloppily thrusted and reached his own high. Pulling back you caught his lips on yours, tenderly kissing him until you both pulled away for air. “It’s always been you Seresin, I’m sorry I was too stupid to accept that.” You whisper against his neck, he hugs you tighter to him before responding, “Nothing to be sorry for darlin’. We’ve got a lot of time left to make up for it. But how about we start by cleaning ourselves up and eating?”

“Absolutely. And how about round two after?” You answer cheekily, earning yourself a smack to the ass from the man you’re glad to never have moved on from.

#top gun fandom #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin smut #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin

[missmeinyourbones]

TWO IS BETTER THAN ONE (suna x reader)

cw: implied AFAB reader (baby bump), lots of mentions of pregnancy & parenthood, doctors office talk, i think reader is referred to as mom twice ?? expecting-dad!suna, slightly suggestive bc he’s annoying. you know i’ve officially locked in a character when i start writing parent content for them LMFAO

part two

The plush chair of the doctor’s office is surprisingly comfortable, or maybe it’s the fact that your body aches with a soreness that can’t be relieved for another 6 months.

It’s not your first time making yourself cozy in the chair, nor is it your husband’s first time sitting beside you, palms locked together as he mindlessly rubs circles to your knuckles. 

However, it is your first time being this big at a doctor’s appointment, now approaching your second trimester and growing by (what feels like) the second.

The pressure in your back slightly fades with the support of the pillowy examination chair. Between it’s relieving comfort and Suna’s relaxing touches, you almost find yourself drifting off to sleep while waiting for the obstetrician. 

Lucky you, Suna’s voice lures you back to reality.

“If it’s a girl, you owe me twenty bucks,” he mumbles against your hand, bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to the cold back of your palm. As his tongue briefly swipes the skin, he faintly tastes the hand sanitizer you used after entering the room.

He grins when you tsk at his comment before reminding him, “We are not betting money on the sex of our child.”

He sighs in faux disappointment before pretending to mull over your empty scold.

“Fine, if it’s a girl… you have to blow me,” he settles on, looking rather pleased with the compromise. 

“That’s what got us pregnant in the first place, Rin.”

“Technically, no. What got us pregnant was when you—”

“And if it’s a boy?” you’re quick to cut off whatever crude memory weighs heavy on his tongue. 

“If it’s a boy...” he takes a moment to think the possibility over before his eyes light up with cocky realization, “then I’ll never ask you to get on top, ever again.”

His grin grows when your laughter echoes throughout the room. “Fucking deal,” you give in with little to no persuasion needed. 

The doctor knocks a pattern on the door, and you’re suddenly overwhelmingly grateful that she didn’t choose to knock thirty seconds prior. She waits for your call of confirmation before entering the room with a soft, reserved smile.

Not an obstetrician you’ve met with before, but not still adorned with professionalism, she greets the two of you with a comforting hospitality. Once all introductions and updates are out of the way, she slides her stool over where you sit. Suna doesn’t move from your side, even when the doctor struggles to wiggle in between his chair and the counter to squeeze by. 

“Alright, Mom and Dad, let’s take a look,” she slides on a pair of plastic gloves, signaling for you to lift your shirt and expose your bump. 

You wince slightly when she rubs the cool gel across your sensitive skin, and though he chuckles beneath his breath at your reaction, you feel Suna’s hand gently squeeze yours a few times in reassurance. 

The two of you watch intently as the doctor cautiously drags the transducer around your stomach, searching for the clearest image of your growing baby. Switching positions a few times, she points out a handful of quick images including tiny toes and twitching fingers. 

With the heartwarming flashes on the monitor, Suna excitedly remembers your harmless bet. He shifts in his chair, now impatient to prove you wrong. 

“Do you know if we can find out the gender today?”

The doctor wears a expression of doubt, “No, I don’t think so. Since there’s two of them, they’re tinier than babies normally are at this point in the pregnancy. You should be able to find out at your next appointment when—”

Your heart thumps heavily in your chest. You interrupt her mid-explanation, “Sorry, two of them?”

The doctor removes her focused gaze from the monitor and over to where the two of you gawk at her casual reveal of such an important, life-altering detail. 

“Yeah, you’re having twins,” her eyes wearily flicker between you and your husband. “Did you…not know that already?”

“The last doctor didn’t say anything about twins,” Suna retorts with surprise that somehow still drips of sarcasm, “think we would’ve remembered that part.”

Still in shock, you don’t have it in you to berate his impolite comment. Instead, your eyes remain bulging at the monitor displaying a black and white blob of baby, or rather babies. 

You do your best to keep your tone level as you digress, “You’re sure you’re reading it correctly?”

The doctor confirms with a confident nod, “Positive.”

Her hand returns to navigating the transducer around your stomach, gliding it in all different angles to attempt to prove her conclusion. 

“There’s one,” she stops on an image that though shaky, clearly depicts the outline of a head.

“And...there’s two,” she grins, slightly moving the device a bit to the left to reveal another identical forming head.

She goes between the two images as proof before applauding, “Congratulations, double the fun.”

The rest of the appointment whizzes by in a blur of disbelief and anticipation. The doctor books your next appointment, as well as giving you multiple pamphlets on your next trimester, explaining in simple terms what changes and symptoms to expect. You nod along, only half-listening as the thumping of your heart in your chest distracts you. 

She eventually leaves with the same friendliness she came with, but the room feels different from before she entered. There’s a hovering uneasiness that suffocates your thoughts. If your silence wasn’t loud enough, your heavy breathing was an indicator for Suna to bounce into action. 

He brings his idle hand up to your cheek, letting his fingers gently caress the clammy skin. 

“Y’okay, pretty?” he cautiously mumbles, eyes flickering over your dazed expression. 

Realizing how alarming your silence must be, you bring yourself to nod in reassurance. “Yeah. I mean it’s insane, but I’m okay,” you truthfully bare before turning the tables with a hesitant whisper.

“Are you?”

You anxiously await his response, because though unexpected and jarring to say the very least, you know that you can handle twins. A blessing of good karma granted to you through the form of an extra heartbeat. It’s incredible, but ultimately, you know it’s not what Suna signed up for. 

You haven’t a clue of where his head is at. Maybe this is too much for him, maybe he’s second guessing everything he knows about being an expecting father, maybe this is all he needed to up and abandon this whole relationship and—

“Are you kidding?” his voice is soft, but the smile on his face is anything but as it spreads from ear to ear, “I’m fucking amped.”

You don’t realize you started crying until his fingers are wet with salt and his coos are pressed into your skin. You laugh in relief at his giddy response, all emotion and stress and fear leaving your body through a release of happy tears. 

“Good,” you release a wet laugh before leaning further into his touch, “it’s just shocking, y’know?” 

Suna nods with an empathy he saves just for you, “I know, but we’ll be fine.” His words, though shaky and unverified, leave you feeling an instant wave of comfort. He squeezes your hand again before insisting, “Just gotta adjust the plan, right?”

You exhale, slumping against his shoulder, “Right.”

He places a few warm kisses to your temple, before allowing them to crawl to your forehead and cheeks. In between smooches against your skin, he murmurs.

“I mean,” kiss, “you were already gonna be a great mom to one kid,” kiss, “now you’re just gonna be a great mom to two,” kiss, kiss, kiss. 

He allows himself to hover over your lips for a moment, whispering the promise of a lifetime before allowing himself to kiss you where you need him the most.

“We’ll be alright, all four of us,” he concludes with a toothy smooch. 

You reaffirm his words against his lips, “We’ll be alright.”

Suna pulls away, getting a good look at you as he wipes any stray tears away he missed before. Like a cat, you purr beneath his touch and borderline nuzzle into the warmth of his hand. 

“Plus,” his eyebrows arch in a playful manner, “this just means that I fucked you so good, it knocked you up twice.”

Your scoff-chuckle hybrid is almost immediate, but still he marks it as a victory in his books. 

“Don’t think that’s how it works, Rin.”

“Just let me have it, will you?”

The moment is sweet, the only noises in the room being your shared breathing and the ticking of the clock hanging from the wall. The sudden jolt of Suna sitting up contrasts the peaceful moment. 

“Oh shit,” he furrows his eyebrows in deep thought. 

“What?!” you jump up from your seat, or try to. Within milliseconds, your husband’s cradling your stomach with one hand while sitting you back down with the other. 

“Careful, baby, sit down,” he breathlessly reprimands as he ushers you back into the seat, “It’s nothing, I just...realized something.” 

You glare at him with anxious expectancy, and he merely shakes his head in disbelief before grumbling out.  

“The Miya’s are gonna find this fucking hilarious.”

#suna rintaro #suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna fluff #suna rintaro fluff #suna fic #suna rintaro fic #suna drabble #suna rintaro drabble #suna x you #suna rintaro x you #suna haikyuu #suna rintaro haikyuu

[auspicioustidings]

Hey hope your doing well! Could I request Price with a really shy civilian reader?

Ohhh so I am going to cheat a little here and actually expand a little small AU I did before for this, I hope you don't mind soulmate AUs! (If you do you shall need to get your butt back into the ole inbox and I shall do something else) <3

You did not want to die. You especially did not want to die because of a bloody maniac seeing fit to blow up the building that you worked in. 

You could barely breathe with all the smoke and debris in the air, but at least the floor hadn't collapsed yet. Couldn't be long though, you could hear the building letting out great sighs as if struggling to stay upright. If it came down, you were toast. You took a breath and rubbed a hand to the raised words on your collarbone to steady yourself. Old habit. Your words had been there since you were born, the handwriting so bad that everyone assumed you must have a doctor for a soulmate. 

You broken love?

The only saving grace of this was that the office had actually been closed due to the aircon being busted. Of course, you had to have left your bloody laptop charger and had to have chosen to go get it when there was a terrorist attack, of course. Not much for it but to start crawling in what you were sure was the direction of the door to the stairwell.

It was a struggle, you were pretty sure in the initial blast your whole left side had been thoroughly fucked up so you had to pull yourself along on your right side, but you made it to the stairwell.

You took a breather and leaned heavily against the wall, trying to steel yourself for continuing on down the stairs. Wait, there were people coming up the way. That was very much the wrong way to be going. 

One of them bit out a curse and leaned over you. All you could think about in your state was how kind his eyes looked.

"Wasn't told there was anyone else left in the building Captain" one of the men said to the one leaning over you.

"You broken love?"

Oh. Oh.

"I'd probably be ok calling you Captain in bed."

The other men were howling with laughter, but you were mostly out of it now with pain and the rush of endorphins that came from those words on your collarbone finally settling fully into your skin.

"We can discuss that later sweetheart, let's get you out of here."

-

God you were a pretty thing weren't you? Had passed out the moment he had lifted you in his arms, like you had known that moment you were safe. You'd always be safe with him, after all he had fought his way to become a Captain to find you, the words wrapped around his left forearm always pushing him forward.

His boys were happy for him he knew, Ghost already taking over the rest of the op to allow him to be here for you when you woke up. They had already killed or captured most of the terrorist ring, the building sweep was just clean up.

The paramedics said you weren't in any immediate danger, pretty bashed up though. Suspected break on your left arm, suspected fracture on the leg, some light burning on your face and neck. Price went with you in the ambulance to the hospital, holding your hand as you dipped in and out of consciousness and babbled away nonsense at him. Even when you had gotten the x-rays you were loopy as hell, the doctors said it was stress, exhaustion and pain, prescribing a heavy dose of painkillers and a good night's sleep.

When you eventually woke up properly, you were warm and cosy in a bed. You felt awful. You looked down to find your arm in a cast and your leg in a splint. You were also... Well, clean. And wearing clothes that were definitely not yours.

"Morning love."

You squeaked and dragged the blankets right up to the bridge of your nose, peeking over to see an incredibly handsome man standing by the door of what was not your bedroom. Wait did you know him? It felt like you did. What on earth had happened?

He laughed and it was the most gorgeous sound you had ever heard which made the tips of your ears burn and your heart race.

"You broken love?"

Wait those were your... only when you shifted to touch your words they were already settled into your skin. He had said them to you before. That's why you knew him. He said them when he had found you in your building, when you thought you had been dying. And you had said...

You would quite have liked for the earth to open up and swallow you whole, but you settled for pulling the blankets all the way over your head and hiding in the hopes he would never look at you again. You could not believe your first words to your soulmate had been about calling him Captain in bed. You were mortified. You would never in a million years have said something like that if you hadn't been delirious from the shock.

You heard his footsteps and the crinkling of his clothes as he crouched next to the bed, the feeling of a warm hand landing on your head over the blanket.

"Don't tell me you're embarassed now love, I've not even told you about what you were saying when I was trying to give you a bath" he laughed.

Jail, jail for this man. You would fix this by simply never emerging from this cocoon again. This was your home now. Even if he was petting at your head and you knew it would feel so much better without the duvet between your hair and his hand. Oh God the thought made you snake your good hand out of the safety of the blankets to snatch a pillow back inside and scream into it.

John Price thought you were adorable. He knew you were shy, you had babbled to him about it last night while he was gently trying to keep your cast out of the water in the bath. It had been you that stripped off and him trying desperately to slow you down, knowing you were off your head on pain meds. But you wanted a bath and he couldn't let you do that on your own in the state you had been in.

You'd told him all about yourself in broken jumbles of words. Your name (he had immediately tested in on his tongue and found it fit there), your favourite colour (he'd paint the walls on Monday), how it was so nice to be able to talk to him because usually you would be way too shy and he was so handsome and kissable (he was more than willing to prove you absolutely correct about him being kissable when you were sober minded).

You hadn't been kidding about being shy. He liked that more than he thought he would, that his soulmate was this sweet, soft thing who was so flustered over so small a flirtation. Oh he couldn't wait to see all the ways he could made colour deepen your skin, find all the words that would have you squeaking and trying to hide away.

"Sorry for teasing, couldn't help myself. Will you come out please? Let me see that pretty soulmate of mine?" he said with the gentle affection of a man finally content in life.

He coaxed you out like one might do a nervous kitten, no sudden movements, light sounds of encouragement. And when you finally looked at him your hand moved to your collarbone out of habit to trace your words, although you winced in pain when you bumped the cast.

"Try not to move it too much love, we can do some exercises to keep your mobility up after breakfast."

You nodded, still looking up at him with those big nervous eyes. He smiled at you and pushed up his sleeve, laying his forearm on the bed and letting you see the words there.

"They're yours, you know. I'm yours" he said, like the concept came as easy to him as breathing.

And as you gingerly reached out with your good hand to trace the words, you couldn't help but whisper the word mine before taking his hand and pressing it to your collarbone.

"Yours."

#mhairianswers #mhairiwrites #price x reader #john price x reader #soulmate au #Price is going to torment his love so much #Always flirting outrageously just because he likes how you have to scream into your hands about it #what a cutie of a war criminal

[xetswan]

IMAGINES- Carlisle Cullen

It’s Okay

Requested

(This is placed in the 1850s obviously this is fictional not everything is correct but I tried and this is also my first time writing for an earlier year set. But I hope everyone enjoys. I did my own spin on it but this is in which Carlisle can’t control himself around [Name] due to her being his blood singer.)

Masterlist

Carlisle moved again. Trying to find a better lifestyle, the last place got too sunny.

Now being in New York in the winter time for now until he figures out a better place, other than going to the freezing places.

He’s been exhausted, just wanting a better life, or what ever he can get being what he is.

“Doctor!? Is anyone a doctor?!” A woman shouted, desperately on the look out. Her face was in a frantic expression.

“My brother! Please!” She cries out, hovering over a teenage boy on the ground obviously turning blue. Carlisle’s eyes widen, looking around to see if anyone was going to help, instead people stared.

They crowded but did nothing but help shout for a doctor. He was just moving into his apartment.

He wasn’t expecting to already be putting his skills to use by being a doctor. He was still trying to find an office to build into his own.

But of course he quickly raises a hand half way, moving fast through the crowd.

“I’m a doctor!” He gets to the ground with the boy and woman, immediately getting hit with a strong smell of blood.

His nostrils flair but he tries to push the feeling back.

“What-“ He clears his throat. “What happened?” He needs to know before he does anything.

“He- I um, I’m sorry I don’t know. I walked away and came back to him struggling to breathe.” The woman tries to calm herself, hiccuping as tears fell down her face.

Not even noticing the fact that the man in front of her was struggling to contain himself around her blood.

“Okay,” He lays his head down on the boys chest, still hearing a faint heart beat.

Carlisle didn’t need to do that but if anyone was watching and knew what he was doing it was necessary.

He breathes out heavily, starting to push down on the boys chest, his one hand in a slight fist and the other laid on top.

Doing it for a while before pinching his nose and blowing air into his mouth.

Repetitively doing it until the boy gasps for air, coughing roughly.

Moaning from the pain in his chest.

Carlisle stands up, letting the lady hug her brother.

The crowd cheers, calling Carlisle a hero as the lady cries, cradling the teenager. The wind hits them and her hair flows out causing the young man to smell it stronger.

His nose burns in agony. It’s becoming too hard to resist and as the lady turns to thank him he’s already disappeared.

He rushes up to his apartment, opening the door like a mad man, slamming it right behind him as well. He grabs the wall, confused on what just happened.

Not understanding the pain he just went through.

Blood has always been a constant battle to fight off, not wanting to put humans in pain.

This.

This was different.

It was like her blood was special. Her blood hurt him in a good way.

The smell was so enticing.

He needed it. But he couldn’t it’s wrong. It’s against his morals.

He knew if he started drinking he wouldn’t be able to stop. He’d kill her just for a taste. He stiffens at the thought, he shakes his head, trying to stop it.

Stop all the thoughts of killing her from happening.

And just a week and a half later, as he thought he forgot about it all.

A week and a half later as he got his new Doctor’s office, getting it ready to open there she was.

Wearing a white dress and light pink details. She strolls down the walkway, he hoped he stayed across the street.

He practically begged any sort of God to keep her away.

It looks like God was against him.

“Sir?” She shouted, squinting her eyes as she made her way towards Carlisle. He glances at her and she waves her hand.

“It is you!” She breathily giggles, jogging across the street after looking both ways on the rocky road. “Hello, ma’am.” He politely smiles.

Trying to hold his breath, mainly towards his nose.

“Oh just call me [Name]. Ma’am is so aging! Anyways, I’ve been trying to find you for days!” Her eyes twinkle as she grins ear to ear.

“What ever for?” He jokes, he knows what it’s for.

“You’re the one who saved my brother are you not?” Her face dropped suddenly, now embarrassed thinking she got the wrong man.

He swallows thickly, her smell affecting him already.

“I am, sorry. Just jokes.” He says in a worried manner.

“Oh,” She laughs it off.

“My mind is scattered, apologies.” She sighs, she goes to step closer but he steps back as her smell is too strong.

“I wanted to thank you…” She waits for his name, Carlisle’s busy talking to himself to not attack her right in front of everyone.

“Carlisle.” He finally spits out, her eyes widen. “That’s a beautiful name.” [Name] compliments, completely oblivious to the man who’s extremely uncomfortable looking like he’s constipated from the pain of resisting her.

“I better get going ma- [Name]. It was lovely bumping into you.” Carlisle quickly speaks, trying to get into the building before she speaks again.

“Wait, could I take you out to eat sometime. As a true thank you.” She places a hand on his shoulder, he sucks in air, squeezing his eyes shut tight. Hissing under his breath quietly, his body tensed tremendously and she takes her hand back.

He calms himself down, building his demeanor back up, turning to smile at the girl.

“Well, I’m quite busy at the moment.” He offers a sad smile to which her shoulders drop but she still manages to attempt a smile back.

Wanting to be understanding but any form of rejection hurts. He observes every movement she makes too.

“Oh, I understand.” She forces a smile, about to turn to leave.

“I hope nothing stresses you too much, Dr. Carlisle.” She sweetly tells him. He watches as she goes to walk across the street, waiting for two carriages to pass. He mentally curses to what he’s about to do.

“Wait, I… I’m not busy tomorrow.” He informs her and her body freezes before turning to him with a smile.

“Meet me here at noon.” She tells Carlisle before crossing the road once again.

That night he was met with a letter on his desk in his room. He furrows his brows in confusion but still picks it up.

Its address from Aro.

Carlisle glances around the room, nothing was out of order. Nothing changed.

He obviously knew how he got in but it was still unsettling.

He wrote Aro yesterday, he wasn’t expecting something so soon but he knew how the Volturi was.

He’s not stupid.

It read:

“Dearest Carlisle,

You want to know what you are experiencing? That draw to the poor woman’s blood? She’s your blood singer. Your personal blood bank just for you. Addictive thing she’ll be. You’ll suck the life out of that poor girl. It’s out of your control. It’s bound to happen… Unless you can control yourself enough to turn her, knowing you, you wouldn’t want her to be in pain though. So thoughtful of you. Always so thoughtful, Carlisle.

Aro”

Carlisle rereads the letter over and over again. Getting angrier and angrier.

Some help he is.

“Why did I even think that was a good idea?” He whispers to himself.

The next day at noon, Carlisle amps up, he needs to learn to control himself around [Name].

Knowing for a fact it’s not going to be easy to get her out of his life.

He stands outside, hands behind his back as he waits for the young lady.

He glimpses up at sky, seeing the clouds getting darker. It’s about time for a storm.

“Hey!” A voice yells, he puts his head back down and sees [Name] holding her dress so she can run up to Carlisle.

“Sorry! My brother needed help with school work.” She tells him, slightly out of breath, still holding a smile nonetheless.

He tries to hold back a smile, nodding his head.

“It’s quite alright. Where shall we be going today?” He offers his arm to the girl, not even a hesitation, [Name] grabs ahold of it.

“I was thinking we could eat by the water, a picnic if you will.” She giggles like a teenager.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.” He compliments, and the two go to the store. [Name] talks Carlisle’s head off, all about thanking him and how he’s a hero to the town.

Everyone will be switching their doctors to him once he opens up his office. Updating him about her brother.

As he struggles to keep his composure. Sometimes he can handle it, other times he suffers when she gets a little bit too close.

It’s somehow worth it for him though. He feels oddly attached to the woman he just met.

Getting things for the picnic they went to a near by pond.

They even bought a blanket for the occasion and by they I mean Dr. Carlisle Cullen.

As he sets it up, [Name] patiently waits, observing the man.

How perfect he was, like he was created by God himself who took his time with him.

She enjoyed the way he looked.

She felt lucky to be in his presence.

Even though her brother kept telling her how cold his touch was, and even she felt odd about it but he saved her brother. He was good and that’s all that mattered to her.

Carlisle stands up, taking his hat off to wipe his forehead.

He goes to put the hat back on but [Name] stops him. “I would like to see your face.” She takes it from him, placing it on her own head with a laugh.

“Let’s feast!” She plops down, her dress puffing up from the air caught in it.

He carefully sits across from her, admiring the woman who got into the fruit first.

“It’s not fair that I don’t get to see your face now.” Carlisle smirks, flicking the hat off of her.

She watches as it lands beside her and she smiles to herself.

“How old are you?” She suddenly asks, popping a grape into her mouth.

“23,” He answers, clasping his hands together. “What about you? How old might you be?” He takes one of the grapes from her hands.

“A man should never ask how old a woman is.” She teasingly tells him.

“My apologies, ma’am.” He purposely pronounces ‘ma’am’ prominently. [Name] gasps, throwing a grape at him as he laughs.

“Ouch, how rude.” He takes the grape, showing it to her before eating it. She scrunches her nose at him. Then gets quiet.

“I’m 22.” She smiles sweetly.

“22, no husband?” Carlisle boldly asks, and once it’s out of his mouth he goes to apologize but instead is found with her signature giggle.

“No, no husband. Not yet at least. I’ve been waiting until I found the one I guess you could say.” She eats a strawberry, not looking him in the eyes.

“You’ll find him soon.” He sits up straighter, she nods her head. “I hope so.”

Throughout the picnic they talk, messing with each other as they joke about the people they see or the animals that pass by. [Name] offers food to some of the animals.

And soon that smell that was bothering Carlisle seemed to be in the back of his mind.

Until they were skipping rocks and stuck in the rocks was a broken glass bottle they didn’t notice.

[Name] clumsily cutting herself. She hissing, holding her hand like a baby.

Carlisle covers his nose with his sleeve, holding it tightly. Turning away from him.

“Hey, Doctor.” She huffs out. “Yes?” He squints his eyes, trying not to grunt from the uncomfortableness.

“I need a little help here.” She chuckles but then hisses again from the pain.

“Right, follow me.” He guides her to their picnic. He rips an end of the blanket.

Biting the inside of his mouth as he holds her wrist to show him her hand. His nostrils flare as he inhales the scent of her blood outside of her body now.

Wanting to bring it up to his mouth.

She looks away as he inspects the cut before tightly wrapping it.

“I have to get you to my office. I have supplies that will help.” He insists, she looks up at him. “It’s bad?” She frowns.

“It needs stitches.” He nods his head, letting go of her hand and quickly cleaning their picnic area up before taking her to the office which is only a block away from the pond they found.

She hums to herself to calm down. Only wincing in pain when she moves her arm a little bit too much.

He frustratedly opens the door to his office. Restricting himself from attacking her in broad daylight and now having to do it with them alone. “Sit on that counter.” He orders, to which she follows, using one of the near by chairs to get herself up.

“I’m sorry.” She mutters.

“What are you sorry for, love?” He asks, trying to sound as soothing as possible as he gathers his things to clean her off and stitch up the problem.

“You seem agitated… I’m sure this is not what you wanted to deal with on your non busy day.” [Name] apologetically explains to him.

“I don’t mind it. This is what I do for a living.” He shrugs it off, now bringing the tray of things over to her.

Setting it down beside her. He looks down at the wrap and hesitantly takes it off.

The smell hits his nose and he grips the cloth in his hand that has her blood on it.

He makes a low growl like noise and [Name] furrows her eyebrows. He quietly apologizes and moves away from her.

“I can’t do this.” He mumbles into his sleeve, dropping the cloth.

“You can’t do your job?” She questions.

“I can’t do my job on you.” He turns around, his eyes piercing into hers.

“I’m sorry?” She tenses up, holding her hand to her chest.

“Your blood, it’s strong, [Name]. It’s strong and it hurts.” He cries out, holding his head as he backs away from him.

“My blood is strong? What is wrong with you?” She asks, getting up from the counter and going to touch him but her pushes her hand back.

“Stop.” He groans, he backs into a wall.

“You’re scaring me Carlisle acting in pain like this.” She worriedly watches him fight with himself.

“I need you to get out of here and never come back.” He sternly tells her. She doesn’t move, her body frozen in mixed emotions.

“[Name] do you hear me? Get out!” He points to the door.

“I can’t. You’re in pain! Let me help!” She steps closer to him and in a swift movement she’s not against the counter.

“I told you to leave.” He huffs loudly.

“I can’t fight it, I’m sorry.” He grips onto her.

“It’s okay.” She assures him. Touching his face with her bloodied hand.

His fangs come down and her eyes widen, but weirdly she’s not scared of him.

“It’s okay.” She says again.

“I could turn you. You don’t know me. I don’t want you apart of this.” He cries, no tears come down his face but his voice breaks in hurt.

“It’s okay.” Is all she says.

“I don’t need to know you to know I need you to be mine.” She quietly tells him, and finally after all the restrictions he’s put himself on, his teeth sunk into her skin.

The pain was quick like a pinch.

Requested by: @nephitis

#bella swan #jacob black #twilight #twilight x reader #alice cullen #carlisle cullen #jasper whitlock #jasper hale x reader #alice cullen x reader #esme cullen #carlisle cullen x reader #x reader #twilight imagine #rosalie twilight #the twilight saga #twilight saga #edward cullen #emmett x reader #rosalie x emmett #embry call #volturi #charlie swan #twilight x y/n