#please i’ll crawl hands and knees through glass and nails for you !!!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

desswright29 · 9 months

Text

On Bended knee

Pairing: Shuri X Fem reader

Word Count: 7.3k

Contains: Sexual content (not really smut), Angst, Cheating, Physical fighting, Drama!, Lots of tears, Shuri begging

A/n: Enjoy the drama! 🥰

Song inspo: Dreaming with a broken heart- John Mayer, Since you been gone-Day 26, Shame-Tyrese

Present

“Shuri are you going to be ok? Do you need anything? Nakia was very worried. Shuri seemed to be going into her mind. Her eyes had been consistently glassy, but no tears fell. They’d finally made it to the hotel and Okoye and Nakia escorted Shuri to her room. “I’ll be fine both of you. I just need some time to myself. Okoye please inform everyone I would like to be left alone for the rest of the evening.” She said peering between the two women. “We’re here for you Usisi. If you need anything.” Okoye says, reaching to touch Shuri’s arm. Shuri flinched stepping out of her reach a bit. She nods. “ I know. Enjoy your night.” She walks away entering her room.

Shuri looked around the luxury hotel room. Finally alone. She leaned back onto the door, taking a deep breath, blinking fast trying to stop the tears from falling, still one stubborn tear fell. Wiping it away quickly she walked over to the fully stocked bar, grabbing a glass and a bottle of bourbon. She poured a generous amount, and took it with her to the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Alone. Taking a sip of her drink and leaning forward, her knees on her elbows, drink still in hand. She let her head fall forward allowing the tears to fall freely now. Big silent tears fell down her cheeks as she placed her drink on the night stand and crawled to the middle of bed laying in fetal position, fully clothed from the day. There she cried long and heavy until she fell asleep.

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Flashback

“OMG Shuri! Yessss! Fuuuckk meeee.” Shuri pounded into Eve. They were in the back of the car Shuri had bought Eve a few months ago. Shuri was silent, biting into her bottom lip eyes shut tight. Eve dug her nails into Shuri’s back as she got close to the edge. “Omg! Baby im sooo clooosseee!” Shuri drilled faster reaching between them to play with Eve’s clit “I’m cuuummiiinnngg” Eve quickly reached her climax. Shuri pulled out pressing her kimoyo bead, retracting the strap and immediately fixing her clothes.

“Shuri you didn’t even cum. I wanted you to fill me up baby! You weren’t as into it today.” Shuri remained quiet as her eyes began to water. What was she doing. “Baby, what’s wrong.”

“Stop”

“Stop what?”

“Calling me baby. I’m not your baby.” Eve scoffed. “Then what am I. You pay for my house, you bought this car, and you fuck me. I’d call that a relationship.”

“I’d call it bribery.” Shuri looked at Eve incredulously. “No. Don’t do that. I didn’t make you start fucking me again. You came to me.”

It was now Shuri’s turn to scoff as she buttoned her slacks. “You’re right. You didn’t make me fuck you again. But, I never came to you for shit! I ran into you. You looked good. I fucked up and you bribed me into buying shit for you and I thought I might as well get some pussy for my troubles. Don’t flatter yourself. Because I stopped wanting it a long time ago. You’re the one begging. ‘Shuri, I neeeeed it, I’m feening, you don’t want Y/n to find out do you.’”

“Puh-leez Shuri! For all the shit you put me through after you met that bitch. I deserve everything I get from you!” Shuri sat back with a huff. Rubbing a hand down her face. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. Sighing she leaned her head back against the headrest closing her eyes. Once again she attempts to speak. “I-I’m sorry.” Eve immediately straightened up. She dared not say anything. She needed to hear the rest. “I know I never said it, I get it. I waisted four years of your life and when Y/n came along I threw it all away with no explanation. I get how that would make you feel less than.” A tear dropped from Eve’s eyes, she’d never expected to get an apology from Shuri. “I guess I never apologized before because it made me feel better making myself believe I did nothing wrong. So I’m going to say it now. What I did to you was wrong and I sincerely apologize. What we’re doing now is wrong and I’m once again being inconsiderate of your feelings, because I love that woman Eve.”

“If you love her so much Shuri why are you here!?”

“Because I’m fucking stupid! I’m an idiot Eve and I’m going to loose her if I keep this up! You are a connection to my past. Everytime I think about Mother, o-or brother, or Baba, I find myself running to you because you were there and you knew and loved them just like me. But that doesn’t mean we’re good for eachother Eve. The truth is I was scared to move forward, scared to be happy. So I continuously do things to sabotage myself. It always feels good in the moment but afterwards I always regret it. Now it doesn’t even feel good anymore. I’m not scared of happy anymore Eve. I want to move forward.”

They both sat in silence for a while before Eve broke it. “So what now?” Finally turning to face Shuri, she saw her staring at the car ceiling. Shuri reached up wiping at her nose. Turning to Eve, she spoke “Your house is paid for, this car is paid for. I can set up an account where I send you a monthly amount that we can agree upon. But we can’t see eachother anymore. I want to do better. Let’s let bygones be bygones, and leave this here.” Eve huffed.

“ You think it’s that easy for me Shuri? What if I love you.” Shuri’s head dropped shaking it from side to side. “You don’t Eve” She reached over gently touching the side of Eves face wiping a tear with her thumb. She closed the distance and placed a kiss onto her cheek. Pulling back she gave Eve one last once over before saying “I’m sorry” once more. With that she exited the car, and never looked back.

That was a year before she asked for your hand in marriage.

————————————————————————

It had been five months since the proposal and Christmas was near, snow was falling and the smell of cookies and eggnog was in the air. You were at the home Shuri had built for you both in Manhattan. You called it the entertainment home. It had a full studio, A bowling alley, A fully equipped theatre room, 3 kitchens a huge backyard built for entertainment and three Five bedroom Five and a half bathroom guest houses attached to it. It was were you worked with and entertained other artist and industry people. And if things ran late. They could always stay. You were here working; and starting on the planning for your wedding that you both decided would be in October. Shuri was in Washington on business with the avengers and would be joining you in Manhattan for awhile once her business was complete.

The past few months had been some of the happiest of your life. Spending time celebrating with your fiancé. Actually doing sit down interviews together for the first time. Making love over and over and over. It didn’t matter where you were. You’d be quick to excuse yourselves to enjoy eachothers bodies. Currently you, your mom, your sister, your best friend Bruno, and his girlfriend Zoe were gathered at the kitchen island going over wedding destinations. Bruno being more so in the way.

“Mommy, we have to have our first ceremony in Wakanda. The elders have to bless our wedding and I’ll be crowned Queen. I’m not marrying just anyone. We have to follow protocol. It’s going to be beautiful!” Grabbing an olive and a peice of cheese from the charcuterie board, your mom frowned. “I didn’t say it wouldn’t be beautiful, I just want everybody to see my baby getting married and crowned Queen. Why won’t you guys televise it.”

“Absolutely not! We could never give outsiders any view of Wakanda. You all were allowed in on the strength of me and were thoroughly investigated before you were granted entrance.” Your sister cuts in to save the day. “Mommy it is what it is. The first wedding will be private and in Wakanda case closed can we get to the second location. So we can get to the fun stuff!” Your mom rolled her eyes a smile ghosting over her lips. “There’s a fun part of planning a wedding” Bruno jumps in looking bored elbow on the island chin in hand as he scrolled on his phone looking agitated. “Why don’t you go to the arcade or something babe. I’m tired of looking at your pathetic little grumpy face.” Zoe says. “Please” “head on out” “make your exit” You all excuse Bruno at the same time, laughing. “Thank you ladies that sounds amazing. I’ll be taking these.” He grabbed a cup of the spiked eggnog and picked up the entire plate of cookies. “What are you doing!” All of you yell as he ran off laughing. “There’s literally so much food in the Ar-“

You were cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing. Which was odd because you weren’t expecting anyone and Griot usually notified you of visitors. The only way you could be granted access to the property without being announced is if you had a specific kimoyo bead connected to the gate. So, you figured Shuri was home early with her hands full and couldn’t enter the code. “Bruno! Put that stuff down and make yourself useful. Answer the door!” He rolled his eyes as he put the drink and plate back on the island and went to answer the door. Upon opening the door Bruno was met with Eve. She wore a tan trench and brown leather gloves. A brimmed hat tilting slightly over her eyes. Her way of being inconspicuous. “ How can I help you?” Bruno asked curiously, eyes scanning the stranger, until they fell on a large Manila envelope. “Is Y/n here?” She said her Wakandan accent thick.

“Yes. I could go get h-“

“No!” She quickly cut him off. “Just give her this for me.” She lifted the envelope to give to him. He hesitantly took it. But she didn’t immediately let go of the envelope causing him to look up at her. “Tell her I thought it was best she knew all of the information first. Only a small portion will be national. Tell her I’m sorry. It won’t be enough, but it was all I got for the hurt I was caused.” She let go of the envelope and strolled away. Bruno stood at the door watching her hop into a Jag and drive away. “Y/n!” He yelled before closing the door heading back into the kitchen. “Yo, that was some weird cryptic shit!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Some lady was at the door. She told me to give you this. Said something about you should know all the information and She’s sorry” Your heart immediately jumped into your throat. Something in the atmosphere had changed. And something told you things were about to be different. “What did she look like? Did you get a name.” Your sister says.

“I can’t really tell you she had on a trench and her hat was covering her face but she sounded Wakandan.” You walk over to him eggnog in hand and take the envelope. “This is probably Shuri playing some type of kinky game” you laugh as you open it. You dump the contents of the envelope onto the island. Spreading them around with your hands. The mug slides out of your hand and crashes onto the floor.

————————————————————————

Shuri sat in the meeting manspread leaning back in her chair head perpendicular to the ceiling. Rocking a black turtleneck and black slacks with black and gold heeled boots. Accessorized with her Kimoyo earrings, a three layer gold chain, a gold Rolex, and her fingers adorned with several rings. Her perfectly tailored trench coat was draped across the back of her chair. Your fiancé was scrumptious as usual, and she was anxious to get back to New York to be with her fiancé; but this pointless meeting was the only thing holding her up. “Could you atleast act like your interested” Peter exhaled.

“But I’m not and I took a vow of honesty” She rolled her eyes.

“Panther, I think you have bigger problems right now” Colonel Rhodes announced as he walked into the room changing the monitors to CNN.

News Anchor One: -Young lady claims to be the ex-girlfriend to recently engaged Queen of Wakanda, Who we all know is engaged to pop super star y/n y/l/n. She released documents proving the Queen has been paying her off to keep quiet about the illicit affair.

News Anchor Two: That’s right Nadine. There are also some explicit photos and videos of the pair that have been leaked it’s pretty clear who it is. The young lady is well known model Eve Wanimi. I can only imagine how Y/n is feeling right now this is such a sad situation.

The voices slowly fade from Shuri’s ears as the walls close in around her. Everyone in the room was dead silent. Heat radiated through her entire body. Her eyes watered and her hands were clammy, and shaking. She could hear her heart beating in her ears. This couldn’t be happening. Nakia, and Okoye had accompanied Shuri on this trip with thoughts of celebrating the holidays with You and Shuri and helping with wedding planning. They rushed inside the room beside Shuri who was stuck staring at the screen that she’d tuned out long ago. A look of disbelief frozen on her face. Nakia placed her hands on top of Shuri’s hands, that were frantically twisting and pulling on the rings upon her fingers.

“Shuri.” Nakia spoke softly. “Shuri let’s get you out of here. Ok” She didn’t move. She couldn’t if she wanted to. She’d done everything she told Eve she was going to do. The affair ended almost two years ago and she hadn’t missed a payment. Why was she doing this? A tear fell from her eye. “We’re going to have to move her Nakia. We’ve got to get her to the ship before the media figures out she’s here and starts to swarm.” Nakia nods as they both get on either side of Shuri grabbing her arms and wrapping them around their necks. They lift her to her feet, snapping her out her trance. “Hey, we gotta get you to the ship Shuri. Are you good to walk?” Shuri nods. “Let’s go” She grabbed her coat from her chair and stormed out of the room fast not acknowledging anyone in the room as she left, Okoye and Nakia trailing behind her.

All eyes were on her as she walked out of the room. Her usual perfect posture slightly slumped. She was starting to feel like she was choking, her breathing becoming irratic. ‘Just get to the ship, just get to the ship’. Once at the glass doors of the building they could see media gathering at a respectable distance; but they saw her and the flashes began. “Take off your jacket Shuri.” Nakia grabbed at the sleeve helping her pull the sleeve of the trench as Shuri pulled her arm out. She takes off the jacket and they cover her head guiding her out of the building to the car that would take them to the hanger. As soon as the door opened they began to rush. “Your highness, is it true that you’ve been having a salacious affair with your ex!” “Is it true she’s stayed in you and y/n’s shared home when she was away?” “Are you Ashamed your highness?” Other Avengers immediately came out to help. “She is not making any statements today!” “This is government property please remove yourselves” “Leave her the fuck alone!”

They got into the car, the driver honking as he pulled off, giving the reporters warning to move out of the way. The ride was quiet as Shuri sat forward elbows to knees her fingers locked into her curls, as her forehead pressed into her palms. The car came to a stop as they finally reached the hanger. They exit the car and enter the ship. Upon entering Shuri immediately began to pace. “Shuri what the hell is going on. Are you cheating on y/n with Eve.” Nakia gave her the most disgusted look she could muster. Shuri looked into Nakia’s eyes shaking her head. “I I-it. I need to call her. Maybe I can get ahead of it before she sees huh? Griot call umfazi wam” She says voice rattling in her chest. “Calling umfazi wam, Panther” They all stare at the projection as the beads chimed. Once, twice, three times. The call ended. Shuri continued to stare at the projection. You’d discontinued the call. “Panther, It seems Umfazi wams beads have been destroyed.”

Her heart dropped into her stomach. You knew. Shuri sat. Slouching into her seat, a tingling numbness taking over her body. She bit into the pillow of her bottom lip chewing nervously. A wet exhale escaping her lungs. “Take me to her.” Okoye walked away getting ready for take off as Nakia sat across from Shuri. Tears began to pool in Shuri’s eyes and she turned to look out of the window as they took off. Her thumbs nervously fiddle with the rings on her fingers as her bottom lip began to quiver and the tears fell. She began letting out painful huffs of breath to try and settle herself. Nakia got up kneeling in front of her grabbing hold of her hands. “I’m going to *deep breath* I’m going to lose her Nakia. She’s going to leave me.” Her head falls as she began to sob.

“No, no. I don’t know what the story is. But, you can’t panick now. You have to get yourself together so you can talk to her. You have to prepare yourself to tell her the truth, and see where it goes. But you can’t unravel right now.”

“I’m scared, I’m not afraid of much, but I’m afraid of loosing her Nakia. I love that woman with all of my being. She’s already given me a chance when I didn’t deserve it. I fear this is it.”

Shuri looked at Nakia searching for reassurance that wasn’t there. She closed her eyes and prepared herself for what awaited her once they landed.

————————————————————————

They all sat in silence. The ship had landed about fifteen minutes ago. Shuri sat staring at the ceiling. She couldn’t stop herself from trembling. Whatever happened once she stepped off this aircraft would be final. And no secenario she conjured up turned out well. “Prolonging speaking with her won’t change the outcome Shuri” Okoye spoke. “I just need a moment”

“You’ve had several. The longer you sit here, the less likely you are to go through with this.” Shuri swallowed. Suddenly she stood putting on her trench, she placed a skully on her head covering her hears, her curls that lay neatly on her forehead still making an appearance. Putting on her gloves. She took a deep breath and made her way toward the exit. Leaving Nakia and Okoye behind.

The walk from the ship to the front porch of the house felt too short. Like she was being sent to the electric chair. Walking up the steps she decided she’d ring the doorbell instead of just walking in to give herself time to think. She pressed the button and immediately her entire body went hot. She stood waiting shuffling from one foot to the other. And then the door opened.

Bruno stood before Shuri. His face draining color once he saw her. “Ay, Shuri. I gotta be real with you. I don’t think it’s the best time for you to be here. Maybe give her a day or two.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s in the living room with my girl, Dani, and her mom but I-“

“No I’m right here.” Bruno’s shoulders dropped as he closed his eyes and bowed his head. Moving slightly over but still standing between you and Shuri. Shuri’s lips began trembling the moment she connected eyes with you. Your eyes were swollen red and puffy, face bare wearing large pajamas and your hair was wild.

“Come in Shuri it’s freezing out there.” Bruno said before you quickly intercepted. “No Shuri, you stay right there. Why are you here?” Suddenly, Shuri felt the chill of the snowy night all too well. Your mom and sister appeared behind you staying at a distance. “I-I came to talk. To explain myself” you let out a chuckle that sent chills down her spine. “Oh she’s here to explain herself guys. This should be good. Let’s hear it!” You smiled, and it was chilling. Crossing your arms over your chest tapping your foot and raising your brow, you give her the floor. Shuri licked her lips squeezing her fists as her anxiousness kicked up a notch. “Y/n can I come in and we could just talk about this alone.” Her voice trembled as she spoke.

You scoff, “Alone! Everybody in the world knows you’re a fucking a cheater Shuri, no need for privacy now, so you can speak were you stand or get the fuck off my porch.” In the years you’d been with Shuri, you always handled her gently. Hardly ever raising your voice. Today, you spoke hard and callous. Looking deep in your eyes she searched for the love that was always there. It was missing. Shuri began to panick. She felt out of breath just standing, trying to speak as she looked inbetween all of you. “I-It’s t-true” she let out. “But I ended it a year before I proposed. I swear I haven’t cheated since. I’ve changed Y/n I promise you.” You nod impatiently, biting your lip to control your anger. “Thank you for the explanation. Explain something else to me. Will you? Tell me how long had we been together before you proposed Shuri hm?”

“T-two years.”

“Two fucking years. Ding ding, correct! Your a genius for a reason huh… so tell me mathematician. If we were together for two years before you proposed and you ended things with Eve a year before. That would mean you cheated on me for a year of our relationship. Not to mention the five months you spent pursuing me! ‘Making it right’ for the last time you had me fucked up with Eve. Would I be correct?!” Your voice was coming out hoarse with emotions but your point was coming across crystal clear. Shuri was continuously blinking back tears as she tried to control her breathing. She nodded as she used the back of her glove to wipe at her eyes. “Yes” She let out with a breath. “During that time you bought her house, and if I’m not mistaken that Jag she’s riding around in too?” Shuri bit the inside of her cheek as she turned her head away nodding again, not bothering to speak knowing her voice would betray her. “$300,000 a month, that’s the amount of hush money you send her so she can maintain her lifestyle. While you also still cover all of her properties expenses. Don’t bother. that one wasn’t a question.”

Shuri’s head dropped in defeat. “Anything else you want to explain yourself about? Or is that everything Shuri?” Her head shook from side to side breathing becoming shallow, she could feel herself weakening. “Oh really?” You walk out of eyesight into the kitchen grabbing the envelope, quickly coming back reaching over Bruno and dumping the contents inside at Shuri’s feet. “That there says there’s a whole lot more to tell.” Shuri looked at the photos that were facing upward and that was the moment she lost hope. “Multiple. Several fucking women in the span of a year.” You say calmly. Shuri officially couldn’t breath. “You bitches were having orgy’s! Ha! She brought you all the hoes huh? While I worked and stayed faithful. Missing you! Seems like she was a blast! Huh. She was nice enough to leave that out of the media for you though.” You were now in a puddle of tears. Your sister began to step up now but your mom held up her arm holding her back for the time being allowing you and Shuri to have your moment with Bruno tucked safely between you two.

Shuri opened and closed her mouth not having any words. Her head was swimming and she felt faint. All she could muster was an “I’m sorry.” And with that something snapped inside of you. “Sorry.” You repeated. “She’s sorry! You hear that everybody THE QUEEN is sorry!” You threw your head back in manic laughter, your sister already clocking the signs stepped forward, but not quick enough. You charged toward the door clearing Bruno before he could get a hold of you. Just as your hand was about to connect with Shuri’s face She stepped back in shock slipping on a patch of ice. She fell back on her butt, but you continued charging as everyone tried pulling you back, you broke free again, and tried to making contact with her face again. She fell all the way back and threw both hands up crossing them over her face as you threw blows that only connected with her forearms. Okoye and Nakia heard the commotion and ran over to assist. “FUCK YOOOOUUUU!!!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. Tears streaming down your face.

“I loved you all the time! I was faithful to you all the time! And you had me out her looking ssstuuuupiiiid!” you were still struggling to break free as Shuri still lay on the ground hands still blocking her face her legs curled in fetal position as she rocked from side to side, hyperventilating and repeating “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“LEAVE! Stay the fuck away from me! Get her away from me! Get her away from me!”

“I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go” Shuri repeated hysterically. Everyone was in tears.

“Get her in the house!” Your mom yells to Bruno and your sister as Zoe comes out and helps them pull you inside shutting the door behind them. Leaving your mom, Nakia and Okoye outside with Shuri who now lie on the snow covered porch in fetal position clutching her stomach she lets out a blood curdling scream that was accompanied by body racking sobs “Pleeaaassseee! I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry. I changed, I changed!”

Your mom sat in the snow next to Shuri and placed her head in her lap, rubbing her back. “You gotta try and calm yourself Shuri.” She said calmly as Nakia and Okoye watched shedding tears. Shuri couldn’t calm herself. She’d run hundreds of scenarios in her head. Never did she picture it turning out this badly. Shuri’s sobs became hoarse and shallow and she began to wheeze. “She’s gonna pass out. She’ll be alright her body needs it that’s the only way she’s gonna be calm” No later than your mom said the words Shuri’s body went limp. And she was silent save for a few whimpers. Your mom stroked the side of her face and leaned down placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. “I wish it turned out different baby girl.” She looked up at Okoye. “Take her” Okoye approached lifting Shuri from the ground laying her head on her shoulder. “Thank you” Nakia says as they take Shuri back to the ship and head back to Wakanda.

————————————————————————

Shuri woke up in a bed on the aircraft. Her head was pounding and her eyes were glued shut with the crust of her tears. Nakia got a notification from griot that Shuri had woken up, and hurriedly grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge, heading to the bedroom.

As she entered the room. Shuri was pulling herself up to lean against the headboard. “Hey there Usisi.” Nakia whispers. Shuri looks at Nakia as she hands her the opened bottle of water. She took a large gulp feeling extremely parched. Looking back at Nakia, she asks the question that had been on her mind since she’d opened her eyes. “Was I dreaming?” Nakia looked down, hesitantly shaking her head side to side. Shuri nodded to herself, looking away, jaws clenching. The feeling of loss flooding her chest once again. “So, I lost her?” Nakia didn’t have words, but they all knew the answer y/n was gone and she wasn’t coming back. Shuri couldn’t think of a gesture in the world that would make up for her transgressions. She could see it in your eyes that this time you were done. “I lost her.”

————————————————————————

Opening the door to the place you and her had called home in Wakanda, a waft of air brushed against Shuri’s face. The smell of you both combined hit Shuri like a ton of bricks. Knowing that over time the lingering smell of you would slowly dwindle and all that would be left was hers. Closing the door behind her, she pressed her back against it taking in her surroundings. The memories flood her mind, she felt as though she was drowning. Releasing a low groan she slid down the door, as she hit the floor she heard a ruffling underneath her. She reached under her finding a Manila envelope. Her heart rate picked up as she slowly opened it. Inside she found a picture of her and Eve with a note attached. In the photo they were younger. Teenagers, about sixteen. Shuri’s head lay in Eves lap, on a couch in the common area of the palace looking up at her smiling, as Eve looked down adoringly at Shuri. Shuri began reading the note.

I did. I did love you Shuri. And watching you love her was killing me. How could you throw us away so easily?

Shuri threw the picture and note to the side as her tears reappeared. “Bast.” She whispered. Now she understood. She’d underestimated the amount of love Eve had for her. It always seemed as though she was just in it for the status. Figuring that Eve would let her go if she took care of her financially had ultimately been her downfall. Feeling sick to her stomach. Shuri crawled to the bathroom, crying so uncontrollably she began to dry heave until the contents of her stomach released themselves. What kind of person was she really? Nakia had been right. She should’ve healed before continuing a relationship with either of these women. Now she’d scorned her first love, causing her to lose the love of her life.

“I made a promise to you Bast. That I would give my all to her. That I would be better and I am better.” She sat on the floor of the bathroom at one of the lowest pointsof her life. Hiccuping from all the tears she was shedding. Once again finding herself finding solace in Bast. “I will continue to be better. I want to make my family proud. And Bast, I want to make her proud. I want her to know it wasn’t a front. I became better because I wanted to be better for me, so that I could be the best for her. I need her to know that.”

————————————————————————

Living without you proved to be difficult. Shuri couldn’t sleep in the room, so most nights she spent working tirelessly in her lab, not sleeping, not eating. She’d closed herself off and never ventured out of Wakanda for the first year. She’d find herself still sending gifts, and letters of apology. All of them going ignored. Your mom and her would speak often but she wouldn’t give information about you. Just let Shuri know you were ok, and make sure that she was doing ok as well. She wasn’t. Not until one day, after about three months, she finally collapsed.

She was walking the halls feeling ill and her body gave out. A Dora saw her falling and caught her just in time. She was starved, dehydrated, and overworked. They’d taken her to the med bay and made her stay. Force fed her through tubes and gave her meds to make her sleep. There she had to face herself. And with the help and the guidance of those who loved her. She became strong again. When she’d been released back to her home, it was a little easier. But she looked in the mirror and what she saw didn’t resemble how she felt. Grabbing the clippers from the drawer she cut her hair as low as possible. She was now 27. She’d grown and learned so much. Now she looked in the mirror and saw the mature woman she was. Afterward, she ran a bath, taking the time to reflect, only shedding a few tears. Progress. Putting on her silk pajamas once she was out and applying her shea butter, for the first time since you left her. She slept in her bed.

————————————————————————

Present

Shuri woke up still in the center of the bed, fully dressed down to the shoes. Groggy, from crying. Sitting up, she saw that it was now dark outside. Checking the time she saw it was 2:33 am. Standing from the bed she walked to the bathroom, running the tap and splashing water on her face as she looked into the mirror. She took a towel drying her face and ridding it of all the dried tears. Still not having the energy to get undressed, she just unbuttoned her blazer and walked out. Grabbing her drink off of the night stand and taking a sip, she walked towards the living room. Sitting in an accent chair in the corner across from the door to the hotel room. Placing her drink next to the lamp on the table beside the chair, she turned on the dim lamp. Manspread, head leaned, backeyes closed, blazer opened so far it barely covered her breast. “Griot, play American soul music”

“Playing American soul music”

Piano sounded softly throughout the room as “Bended Knee” by Boyz II Men began to play. Taking a deep breath she took another sip of her drink. Suddenly, she heard a card being swiped at the door. Not bothering to look up or open her eyes as the door opened, already knowing who it was. Shuri called out softly “Nakia, I thought I told you I wanted to be left alone.” She heard the door shut and a couple of steps were taken. When a voice responded softly “Hey. Sweet Lady”

Shuri froze, she unconsciously squeezed her eyes shut tighter. Believing she was hearing things. The room was silent, except for the music, as you waited for Shuri to process. “Open your eyes Shuri” you finally say, realizing that she wasn’t going to move. Slowly she opened her eyes, looking forward seeing your silhouette, the lamp casting a soft glow onto one side your face. Her chest felt tight at the sight of you. Your perfectly curvy body, clothed in a white form fitting maxi dress. Your beautiful natural hair had been taken out of it’s updo and it fell heavy at your waist in all it’s full kinky glory, just the way she’d always liked it. You looked like an Angel. Shuri’s hands shook as she reached for her drink. Taking a sip and placing it back down as you two stared at one another from your respective places.

“How did you find me?”

“Nakia.”

“She sent for you?”

“No. I reached out to her.”

Shuri was taken a back. “Why?” She whispered. “I don’t know” you answer honestly. Once again Shuri grabbed the drink, at this point it was just there to give her hands something to do. She leaned foreward knees on her elbows both hands cupping the glass. Her voice shook as she spoke. “Congratulations are in order yes?” You look down at your feet unable to maintain the intense eye contact. You had forgotten the effect Shuri had on your body. She’d matured beautifully since you’d last seen her and it made you feel things you weren’t allowed to. Why did you come here? “Married. Wow.” She chuckled with no humor behind it. “I really fucked us up.” You remained silent, looking down. Shuri stood as another song began to play. A song she’d listened to many times since you’d left. One that said all the words she couldn’t find as she made her way toward you.

I need your forgiveness

And your mercy too

I must be all kinda crazy

For what I've done to you

I hope you understand

That my heart is true

Mistakes, I've made 'em

But I'm making change for you

Shuri was now in your space, her powerful presence starting to feel suffocating. She stood in front of you intense eyes trailing your body up and down, before settling on your face. “Bast, you’re more beautiful than I remember.” Walking away she drained the rest of her drink and placed the glass on a nearby table. The last time you saw this woman you’d left her in a literal ball in the snow. Now you couldn’t gather your thoughts enough to speak to her. Next thing you knew she was back in front of you. “May I touch you, sthandwa”. Without looking up and without thinking you nod. Slowly Shuri’s hand came up to grab your chin. Pulling your eyes up to meet hers. That’s when you finally saw the tears. The red rimmed eyes. You noticed the shake in her hands.

Have I learned is your question

And my answer I have

“I never got the chance to express to you how sorry I am. But I don’t t-think there are words that I could say that would suffice. Ndophukile (I’m broken). I’ve learned to function, but everyday I suffer with the loss of you. And sorry will never be enough. I know it’s too late. But I wanted to say it now that I have the opportunity. I was young and dumb, and hurting and I should never have dragged you into it. I should’ve waited, healed and come back to you better. But I was also selfish, by the time I’d gotten better, the damage had been done. Everyday I lived in fear that the things I’d done would catch up to me. And they did. And it hurts baby girl. It ( trembling exhale) Hurtssss” The S turned into a sob as tears streamed down her face. She grabbed ahold of both sides of your face. As if on command your hands came up to hold her wrist. Placing her forehead against yours, you trembled under her touch.

I know why you left me

But since you've been gone

My understanding

Has more than grown

I've come to this conclusion

Over and over again

I don't want an enemy

I just want back my friend

You step closer, removing a hand from her wrist you place it on her bare skin revealed by the open blazer. She lets out a soft breath closing her eyes basking in your touch, as your hand lingers on her toned stomach before gliding around her waist pulling her closer to you. You both released shuddered breaths as your bodies connected. Shuri dropped her hand from your face. One going to your waist the other went underneath your hair to grip the back of your neck as she nuzzled into your neck. Inhaling your scent.

Oh, I'm ashamed of me

I wish I never done you wrong

Every night of us I dream

That I wake up in your arms

Shuri sang the lyrics into your neck, sending vibrations throughout your body. You’d always loved Shuri’s singing voice. You’d begged her to do a song with you, but she’d always say her voice was for your ears only. The combination of her voice, the meaning of the lyrics, and the feel of her pressed against you again after so long, sent signals straight to your core. Both of your hearts thumped loudly against one another. As you stood in the embrace.

Wish I could say sorry

Oh, and you come back home

Hey, baby, yeah

I was diamonds can do it

So I wouldn't have to be alone

Yeah, hey

If I knew then what I know now

Everything would be fine

I’m soooo ashaaamed

Shuri’s voice broke as she sung. And suddenly you both were on your knees in a full embrace. Both of your hands around Shuri’s waist inside of her jacket. Her arms wrapped around your shoulders. Your noses brushing against eachothers, wrapped up in eachother like you never wanted to let go. “I wish I’d never done you wrong” She speaks through her tears. Unwrapping her arms she slides down your body head lying on your chest. As she completely broke in your arms.

I'm ashamed of me, yeah

I'm ashamed of all the lies I told

Wish I’d come home, wish I’d come home at night

Girl, I wish I've never creeped, oh, Lordy

(I'm ashamed of me) said I'm ashamed

Baby, I thought there was something better out there for me, yeah

You broke with her. Lifting her head to face you as sobs shook her body. The powerful woman that was before you when you entered was long gone. Before you, was a woman aching for your love, someone who had learned long before she lost you, but still had to suffer the consequences of her betrayal. With everything she’d lost, she’d learned and grown and become a better woman. And you wanted her, you wanted nothing more than to fall back into the arms of the woman you loved. But you were married. You leaned down to Shuri and placed a peck on her lips. Then another, then another as she sat up onto her knees, allowing her better access to your lips. The next peck lasted longer until you were in a full blown French kiss. She’d pulled up your dress, picking you up and placing you in her lap. Both of your hands going to the back of her neck, as you tried to swallow her mouth. You began grinding against her as her hands gripped underneath your ass spreading you apart. You released her lips and hungrily began to attack her neck. “Ssssss fuck y/n”. The sound of her pleasure sent a jolt through your body, causing you to moan out as your core leaked with want. The feeling made you pull back. Snapping out of it, both of your breathing was heavy as you looked into her eyes. You knew then you were still very much in love with Shuri Udaku. You immediately hop out of her lap.

“I-I gotta go. I’m sorry I came here.” You say as you head to the door.

“Y/n baby wait! Please!” You stop still facing the door.

“I’m married Shuri.” You spoke in a shaky voice.

“I can’t do this without you sthandwa. I-I just can’t.” She pleaded. Finally you turned to look at her. Fresh tears falling.

“You can and you have to, because we’re done.” Turning away, you walk out and close the door behind you. Leaving Shuri, The Queen and Black Panther on her knees, for the final time.

Baby, I’m ashamed

I'm so sorry, babe

I'm so sorry

—————————————-————————————

A/n: This is the Final Chapter of Shame!! Thank you guys so much for reading I hope you all enjoyed this series as much as I enjoyed writing it! 😘

#letitia wright #letitiawright #shuri udaku #spotify #shuri x reader #shuri fanfiction #shuri x you #shuri angst #shuri fic #shuri smut #shuri imagine #shuri black panther #Spotify

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bearwriting · 2 years

Text

Healing Hands

Summary: Matt Murdock just needs some comfort after a night in Hell's Kitchen. Fortunately, he has you, whose touch and voice are better than any painkiller.

Word Count: 721

Warnings: Mentions of violence, bruising, and stitches

When you heard the crash from your living room, you probably should have known that it was Matt. It had happened enough at this point that you should at the very least have been prepared for it, but you grabbed your aluminum bat anyway and slowly crept down the hall.

When you reached the entrance to the living room, you jumped out with the bat held aloft but dropped it with a clang when you saw Matt sprawled across your sofa.

“What the hell, Matty?” you demanded, rushing to the couch and kneeling in front of him. Your hands fluttered over his face, fingers skimming bruises and cuts. “You promised you’d be more careful.”

He didn’t say anything, just closed his eyes and leaned into the feeling of your fingers on his cheek. Your hands were soft and warm and, above all, gentle. He almost wanted to cry.

“Matt,” you prompted.

He sighed. “I said I’d try.”

“And this is you trying?”

Matt remained silent.

Your eyes landed on the neat stitches peeking through the tears in his shirt. “At least you were smart enough to go to someone who actually knows how to do stitches.” You paused for a moment. “Wait, if you already saw Claire, why are you here? Are you not exhausted?”

He groped around for your hand and grabbed it, placing it against his cheek. You sighed and traced your thumb along his cheekbone.

“I just wanted to be with you,” he said quietly.

You gently brushed his hair back from his forehead, gazing at him sadly.

“I can feel you staring at me,” he said softly.

You touched your forehead to his.

“I just worry about you,” you mumbled. “I hate seeing you hurt like this.”

Now it was his turn to hold your face with his hand. “I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

“There’s no point in asking you to stop though, is there?”

He shook his head and you let your hand drop, getting to your knees and standing.

“Wait,” Matt said, grabbing your hand, his voice tight. “P-please don’t stop touching me.”

Something in his voice made your heart ache and you squeezed his hand.

“I’m just going to get you some water, I promise I’ll be right back.”

He settled back against the cushions, anxiously waiting to hear your footsteps return.

When you came back, you helped him to his feet, guiding him down the hall towards your bedroom and easing him onto the mattress. You pushed the glass of water into his hands and dug through your dresser until you found what you were looking for. Matt’s clothes that he’d left behind. A clean henley, fresh boxers, and flannel lounge pants.

“Here,” you handed them to him, “get out of those nasty crime clothes before you get in my bed.”

He chuckled softly and you placed a small kiss at the corner of his mouth.

“C’mon, you’re exhausted.”

“Actually,” he said, his voice so quiet it was almost shy, “could you…could you read to me?”

You blinked. “What?”

His cheeks reddened slightly. “It doesn’t have to be anything long, I just, uh, like the sound of your voice.”

Your heart melted. “Of course I can. But you have to promise to try to sleep, okay?”

He nodded and changed into the clean clothes while you dug around for the book of poems you had been reading. When you finally found it under a stack of notebooks on your dresser, you crawled under the covers and adjusted so Matt could rest his head on your chest. He liked to feel the vibrations of your voice when you spoke. You carded your free hand through his hair, gently running your nails over his scalp. He smelled like sweat and dirt with the added metallic tang of blood. But he was here. He was bruised and bloodied, but he was here. He had come back to you.

Pressing a kiss against his hair, you flipped to your favorite poem and began to read aloud to him. He sighed contentedly and let himself drift off to sleep as your voice filled his ears and your chest rumbled against his cheek, and your hand running through his hair felt like it was doing more to heal his battered body than all the stitches and Ibuprofen in the world.

#matt murdock imagine #matt murdock x reader #daredevil imagine #daredevil x reader #i know i've been on a kick with short fics recently and i'm SORRY #i've just been feelin short and to the point stuff recently #but i've got some stuff planned for future rewatches of other stuff #and i'm hoping it'll give me enough juice to write something that's decently long #bear writes

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littlefreya · 3 years

Text

The Devil’s Tongue

Summary: A mask of virtue hides a man riddled with lust and while his stoicism proceeds him, even he can’t withstand a begging girl.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x OFC (3rd person POV)

Warning: 18+. Manhandling, abuse of power, MaleDom/FemSub, some thigh riding, unprotected sex, deflowering, loss of virginity, mild mentions of blood, sex in front of mirror (auto-voyeurism), profanities, bodily fluids, possessive behaviour.

Words: 4.5k

A/N: Many thanks to my muse @agniavateira for supporting me through this story and for betaing. This was inspired by a certain scene in the film. My pervy mind took it elsewhere. Sincerely, I am not sure how I feel about it, so I’ll let you be the judge while I’m having my panic attack.

Please reblog and give feedback if you enjoyed. 🖤

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own*

Title: The Devil’s Tongue

The treacherous moon was already high in the midnight sky and winds of melancholia whispered through the ivy leaves that grew timidly around the window’s panes. Despite the solace of night, her blood seeped with venom, and vicious thorns grew beneath her skin.

Striding through the desolate corridors of Holmes’ estate, Vanessa fumed while listening to the sounds of the old house: the creaking of the floorboards, the glass panes rattling in the wind, and the scratching of mice that ran between the walls. A kerosene lamp hung heavy between her sweaty fingers; her knees cracked as she marched forward to face her master.

Same as every night, Sherlock hid in his library to chase adventures behind thin sheets of paper. He was not to be disturbed, though he left her no choice.

Sent her away he did, claiming that her service was no longer needed even though she was promised a home at the estate, despite Enola’s departure. The worst of it was that he didn’t even bother telling her himself, but simply sent another servant to announce that she must pack her belongings tonight.

‘Like hell, I would!’

Vanessa willed her heart to beat slowly as she tiptoed, cursing every wooden plank that grated beneath her feet. It’s been over a year since she started working for the Holmes family, and despite battling her concupiscence tooth and nail, Mr. Holmes has possessed her very existence. Sleepless nights left her yearning to drink the mead of his mouth and feel the slapping of his skin onto hers.

Wistfully, the brooding detective only stared at her with a lustre of ice. But the notion of never seeing him again felt like holding a blade pointed to her chest; the wish to confess nibbled in her gut like a pesky little fish.

‘At least I will have the chance to say farewell…’ she mused as she finally reached the open doorway of the library. It was a cosy cavern, stuffed with endless shelves of books and vases of pink roses to mellow its austerity.

Wood burnt to a crisp within the hearth, its aromatic scent bleeding into the air and a light layer of ashen mist wafted over the chamber. There sat her master, resting comfortably on his maroon leather armchair with a book in one hand and a pipe pressed between his succulent lips like a king on a throne of solitude.

Silently she stared, brow furrowing at his sight. It baffled her how a man can be so oblivious to the dangerous power he had over women. Sherlock was as divine as the coldest day of winter: eyes of crystal snow, curls darker than the night, and sharp facial features that gave a tinge of intimidating flavour. The ancient god Hades would have been jealous of his divinity. Even in these serene moments, Sherlock’s presence exhumed dominant masculinity, consuming oxygen like the fire that burnt in the mantle.

Clad in a white cotton shirt loose over his broad chest, he calmly turned a page on his book and sighed.

It was impossible not to sense her nearby. The young woman was a breeze of autumn wind: spiced yet soothing, bringing the omen of a season’s change. She tried very hard to hide her feral nature, abiding, serving, and acting polite. While she fooled everyone, including herself, he detected the brazen kiss that raged within her.

Nights were riddled by dreams of dismantling her shackles, only to bind her further to himself. And yet, every time he looked at her a loathing rage gnawed inside. To him, she was a dire trap meant to expose the thing that hid behind his mask of virtue—a reckless savage, sick with twisted desire.

It took true power to send her away. Yet, here she was, barging into his shelter to pour another drop of simmering turmoil into his already seething blood.

“Can’t sleep, Nessie?”

Vanessa jolted with a startle. His deep voice threaded tendrils of dark silk around her heart, attempting to draw it further out of her fragile ribcage. Maintaining attention on the book in his hand, Sherlock’s mouth twitched into a cold grin of respect, sensing her glare stabbing at his nape.

“You might be a mouse, but you have the stomp of an elephant.”

Forcing the book shut with a soft thud, Sherlock turned his head aside, daring to catch a glimpse of her. His pretentious smile died, and a surge of passion seized at his groin. Like the virgin Persephone, she stood before him wrapped in a sheer nightgown, the creamy fabric barely hiding her delicacies. A mystic glow of sweet honey and amber gold rimmed her flesh, kissing down her clavicles and leading his enslaved gaze to the soft heaps at her chest.

By courtesy, he should have looked away, but the wish to incinerate the silken threads that retained whatever left of her modesty whispered in his ear like a little devil that sat on his shoulder. It was cruel of her to provoke him like this.

Quirking an eyebrow with disdain, he finally battled the sight away.

“Something ails you, girl.” Sherlock’s rich baritone dropped. Touching the pipe to his maw, he took a long whiff and suckled his lip. “You seem unnecessarily emotional,” he noted dryly, pretending as if her appearance was a mystery.

Noticing the uncaring shift in his tone, she scowled and stepped carefully into the room. Placing the lamp on a nearby stand, she purposely stepped into his line of sight and looked at the frowning detective with the feral wilderness growing inside her chest.

“You’re sending me away tomorrow,” an unmistakable hint of rage seeped between the cracks in her voice. Grasping her knuckles, she began striding back and forth across the Parisian rug as if lost in her own musings, “why? What have I done to you?”

A small huff escaped his nose, and he rubbed a finger beneath his bottom lip. His patience spread thin as the young lady scurried about with hysteria. The mere idea of bending her over and teaching her some discipline caused the fabric of his trousers to stretch over his engorging desire.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, it was simply my decision.” He answered, striving to sound neutral and remorseless. “A lady’s maid without a lady is useless in a place like this. But now, Vanessa, it’s late, and I’d like to get back to my book. No reason for you to stand here in your... undergarments.”

Lips agape and feet nearly colliding on to one another, Vanessa paused on her steps. His words crept a chill down the length of her spine, making her cheeks blaze. Passionate and irrational, she never even noticed her lack of chastity when she left her room.

“I… didn’t think much, I was upset…”

‘Of course, she didn’t think much. Irrational, savage thing.’

A string twitched in Sherlock’s cheek, and a dark errant lock fell rogue upon his pale temple as he turned his head aside, adamant to brush her away. His self-restraint was but a delicate, dying leaf, hanging by its last yellowing strand.

“I came here to ask you to…”

“I’m afraid it’s not negotiable.” Sherlock interrupted and swatted his hand flat on the leather binding. His stern glance floated out the window, focusing on a large spider that threaded lines of silver amidst the peeling frames. “You will find a new job in London, a better house,” he apprised and took a deep inhale, turning the book over to open it where he paused. “Now please leave before we’ll both hurt one another.”

‘Before I will pierce cavities in your soft flesh.’

Stunned by his dismissive, arctic demeanour, her stubbornness and frustration only grew to monstrous proportions. With clenched fists and water pooling at her lids, she grunted and took a courageous step closer, standing at the fore of his couch while shaking her head.

“No!”

“No!?” he scowled, eyebrows lowering with dismay. “You forget your place, woman.” He flashed her a quick warning look, his icy glare tinted midnight black as he stood at his wit’s end.

If only it didn’t make her heart shrivel with wanton. Their proximity perilously close, Sherlock’s strong scent pervaded into her lungs: a musky blend of whiskey, leather, and fine tobacco that made her thighs wobble. Before she could even register what’s happening, her knees were brushing the thick carpet, her decorum and dignity gone.

“I want to stay here. With you.” Slender like stalking vines, her fingers crawled onto the armchair, squeezing at the smooth leather with pitiable desperation.

“Keep me, please!”

“Vanessa,” Sherlock drawled, still refusing to meet her gaze while his thumb circled deep into the coarse binding. Furious tides rose in his eyes, whisked by the rageful storm that inhabited his mind, “Do not make me regret this night.”

He didn’t want to hurt her, but she was pretty when she begged.

“You don’t know what it is that you’re asking, I am not the gentleman you think I am.”

Ignoring his warning, she insisted. Daring, needy talons rose from the armchair to claw at his arm, clutching it with demand. Even through barriers, a surge flushed between their bodies.

“Sherlock,” she half-whispered, crystal droplets of sadness gliding down the smooth slope of her cheeks. Not caring the least as they dribbled onto the soft sleeve of his shirt, leaving tiny stains that dampened his arm.

“Guide me, teach me, make me yours!”

Nostrils flaring and breath rigid, the large man finally snapped his stare at her with the sanguine hunger of a starved vampire. The mask of his virtue fell shattering to the floor, and a harrowing silence took over the room, diffused only by the sound of crackling embers and Vanessa’s shaky breath.

“Remember this tomorrow when you’re raw and hurting; this is what your begging bought you, little Nessie.”

A strangled gasp died at her sternum as his hand suddenly grasped her throat. With a quick yank, she was up on her feet, her toes barely scraping the ground as the hulking man held her up to his face.

“Oh the things I’ll do to you..” he whispered as his thumb dug deep onto her cheek and the rest of his fingers etched at her throat.

Swinging on his boots, he swept her across the silent halls. His stride a dark ceremonial gyrate, the creamy fabric of her pristine nightgown floating mid-air like a sheer tongue of white morning mist.

“I will make you mine as you begged,” he rasped barbarically, one hand pushing the door open while the other held her attached to his chest, “I will teach you what you asked…” his lips brushed her ear, his breath hot over her cheek, “your first lesson begins... in my bed.”

With a swift shove, she was forced into his realm. Feet stumbling upon the tepid wooden floor, her ears throbbed with shock. Her hands reached to grasp onto the engraved bed column to prevent herself from falling.

His bedroom smelled of dying roses and smoked wicks, echoing the putrid decadence that gnawed at Sherlock’s mind. A dozen melting candles burned in every secluded corner, their little orange tongues licking the reflection of a sizable mirror that stood opposite of his large bed.

A dull metallic click broke the air, followed by Vanessa’s sputtering breath as she saw him lock the door. Her faith sealed - now caged in the lair of the beast. Reduced to his own shimmering shadow, Sherlock advanced toward her, ripping his shirt off.

Fingers biting into the wooden pole, Vanessa stared, unable to determine if it was a man or a lycan god who stood before her. Every breath made his bare torso look menacing. Under the deep dusky twilight, his muscles curved and stretched, coated by a virile, dark fur.

Curious, her gaze followed the striking veins and the trail of unkempt hair that paved its way down his fine abdomen and disappeared beneath his trousers. Guiding to that which she feared and wanted at once.

Eyes of blue flame shone with absent remorse, brows arched with a pretentious demeanour as he reached a hand to seize her to him. “Your innocence dies here tonight,” he hissed in her ear, “from now on, you’ll be my little whore to plough as I please.”

The air died in her lungs as his firm chest collided with hers and his knee forced her legs apart. Bulging and muscular, his thigh rose to brush at her clit, the thin fabrics a shy barrier.

Shuddering, she swallowed hard in a dire battle to find her voice. “I will be whatever you need me to be,” she retorted as the thought of being exploited by her master released fluttering butterflies of fear and excitement in her chest.

Sherlock smirked and captured her jaw between his finger and thumb as he leaned in. Torrid lips hovered over her own, offering a phantom kiss to distract her from the greedy fingers that pushed the sleeves of the gown off her shoulders.

Like warm milk it poured down her body, exposing her delicacies to the night and to the gluttonous hands that kneaded her breasts while he flicked his tongue over her closed mouth, tasting the plumpness of her lips.

A true creature of the underworld, Sherlock’s touch was cruel like his promises; he took as he pleased, leaving his sigil seething on her skin. Her sputtering gasps served as an opportunity to invade her hot cavern. The detective’s kiss was even more ruthless, his tongue smooth as silk seized and conquered her breath.

She could feel him streaming in her blood, tasting him all the way down through her gut. Dark and intoxicating like poisonous absinthe, the promise of death swung amidst their hot, serpent-like dance.

Yet she only yearned to drink to her demise.

As if under a stupor, she swayed to his spells, bucking her hips to ground herself on the meat of his thigh, leaving the coarse fabric wet with sticky arousal. A condescending grin tugged at his lips, and his hand rushed to the back of her head, weaving through her hair and yanking her back.

“Already the wanton harlot,” he spat, swiftly turning her over and holding her against his chest. “Look at yourself,” he growled hoarsely in her ear, forcing her doe eyes to stare at their reflection. Sherlock rested his dimpled chin on the top of her head with his brows lowered like an apex predator examining his prey.

His hand disappeared behind, hastily fumbling with his trousers, “You wanted me to show you, you want to see,” he called as his trousers piled at his feet and he carefully stepped out.

Something hefty and hard nudged at the small of her back, turning her veins into thin tendrils of ice. Abysmal panic coiled at her gut at the realisation that Sherlock meant to reshape her as the vessel of his primal urge.

Hand snaking around her belly, he snatched her to fall back onto the mattress with him pillowing her fall. Her firm buttocks slid across his hairy abdomen, hands fumbling to grasp his thick thighs while her eyes flared at the sight of his hardened cock displayed in front of her in its full generous size.

It was nothing like the medical illustrations she saw in books: bulging tendons swerved across an imposing, meaty rod. Ridges rippled across its girth like soft silk, and the heart-shaped head dripped of glistening, pearly arousal.

Curious, her trembling hand wandered to feel him, stunned by the liquid-like texture that engulfed the absurd rigidness. By order of her touch, he twitched and swelled, causing the radiating heat at the apex of her groin to palpitate.

Pressing his lips to the shell of her ear, Sherlock growled, “Do you like what you see, little one?”

His taut hands reached to grasp her thighs, spreading her wide over each of his legs and holding them apart to expose her untouched sleek at the mirror. The thundering in his throat was nothing but animalistic as he glowered at her perfect sight: his little Nessie, his little untainted flower blooming fresh with dew, yearning to be plucked.

“Look at yourself,” Sherlock demanded with a whisper drenched of fervour. His coarse hand dragged to capture her chin and forced her to face the salacious spectacle reflected before them. Her breath shuddered; she saw their skin mapped onto one another, their bodies entangled and their souls unmasked.

How could something so forbidden be so beautiful?

“I dwell in the darkness, Vanessa.” Sherlock explained, his voice stroking her temple as his lips inched closer, “You must know that, you must have me as I am.”

He laved his tongue over her cheek as if he was tasting the sweetest delicacy and reached for his erection, stroking the pulsating girth between his fingers. Eyes still glued to their likeness on the glossy surface, she glanced as he pressed his pink, meaty tip between her dripping petals.

“Watch as I take something from you that can never be given back, something that will forever belong to me.”

“Sherl….”

His name died on her tongue, the moment forever lost in a loud shriek. Savagely and unceremoniously, he pried her virginal cunt open the way a predator rips at its prey’s throat. His massive shaft tore through her purity with no resistance to fight back against his brutal invasion.

Pain rattled its way through her entire entity while the dark spectacle of the loss of her innocence played right in front of her eyes, spurring grievous tears. Lost to the bliss of her warm cavern, Sherlock chanted in loud groans, continuing to force himself all the way between her squeezing walls. Remorseless of her cries, he never stopped until every hollow inch inside her was full of his cock and his sac smacked against her stuffed opening.

“My! You feel good!” He panted with astonishment, his virility twitching within the lush sanctuary between her thighs. Noxious pride flowed in his veins at the reflection of the naked young girl, spread open with him inside her.

“Do you like having me inside you, my little harlot?”

“God!” Vanessa screamed, stunned by the sensation of him swelling at her core. His invasion seared, her legs trembled against his in a plea to be kept together. But he only stretched her wider, hooking both hands below her thighs.

“It will feel good in a little while,” he promised and slowly shifted his hips back. Inch by inch, his cock slid out of her now defiled slit, coated by blood and a sheer layer of arousal. It was something of decadent theatrics; his broad chest puffed against her spine, a blissful hum leaving his bobbing throat at the image of the crimson stain that decorated his sword.

“From this moment and beyond, this belongs to me,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck and planting wicked, butterfly kisses along the tender slope, “do you understand? Your little cunny is my property, your moans, your pleasure, all belong to me.”

Her cunt clenched around nothing as she watched his full length slipping out, tainted by broken purity, the empty void leaving pure urgency to course through her tendons. Hopeless for something she couldn’t even recognise, she whined and writhed on top of him. Her eyes levitated from their sexes to meet his icy glare.

“Sherlock, please, more! Please put yourself back inside me!!!”

“Fuck!” Sherlock rasped in awe of her wanton, his control nearly lapsed. Fingers digging into her thighs, he undulated his hips and pulled her down the length of his throbbing erection. Low melodies of pleasure rolled on his tongue as her wet cunt pressed around him again.

Gawking at the mirror, she nearly fell apart in his arms, cries of daze escaped her as Sherlock's drove back into her sleek. Every bit of his flesh unfolding hers, disappearing within her body to defy the loneliness aching in her cove until his entire shaft was lost in her depth and the tip of his cock hit something lush and tender. She could have sworn she felt him waver deep in her gut.

“Sherlock!!!” she cried, shutting her eyes at the sharp twinge that shuddered through her core.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes, dove,” he warned, and the authority in his voice left her no choice but to obey. Wickedly, his fingers slithered to the little nub of flesh above her slit and ruthlessly tugged at it to expose more of her battered sex. He continued to pound into her mercilessly, quickening the rhythm with each one of his thrusts.

“Look at you, taking me so obediently. Perhaps I was wrong about you, perhaps you are easily tamed.”

The thick bones of his hips crashed into her rump vigorously, his girth violently splitting her protesting walls. He was fast, wet, and hard inside her, his cock drilling into her over and over, every plunge stripping more layers of her soul and pushing her higher toward the heavens.

Enslaved to the beguiling aphrodisiac, she squirmed on top of him, her body beginning to push down to meet every thrust. The vision of herself being brutally taken by the large, civilised beast made the blood pool at the seams of her womanhood and tingle with frustration.

A shuddering quake began to spread within her, spiralling out in a sequence of spasms sourced at the spot where they connected. Bliss and ecstasy shattered her body and a sudden flush of pleasure exploded through her body as she came all over his cock.

Engulfed in her milking cunt, Sherlock could hardly believe what beheld his eyes. His beautiful nymph, coming undone around him, ethereal and divine. Her blissful chants a song to his ears only, she was like dryad humming a hymn to call upon a lonesome hunter.

“‘My Vanessa, I wanted you for so long.” He called, fucking her wildly through her orgasm. “Tell me you want me to come inside you,” he choked out on his grunts, her sugary walls closing around his thickness like a predatory flower, demanding to suckle his sweet elixir.

Still riding her climax, she shook her head, hesitant of speaking such profanities. But the stern glower on Sherlock’s face instantly forced her into submission.

“I want you to come … come inside me!” She panted and then screamed as another wave of intense rapture swept her away.

Her squeezing cunt forced the thick stream to vibrated through his shaft, making him drill into her with zeal. His fingers clutched her waist as he slammed her down onto his swollen cock, burying himself the deepest he could. Vanessa yipped as something hot sprouted into her, flooding her womb like a soothing kiss that slowly began trickling between their tight flesh.

Still locked in an embrace, they shivered together. Soft maple hues glimmered over their wet skin, their bodies heaving against one another while a symphony of pants and gasps filled the silence.

Sherlock’s glaciers sought to capture her reflection, a dark, brooding look on his sweat-silken face while his lips ghosted over her shoulder. There was no question in the rough expression of his face.

Nothing spoke louder than the possessiveness that pierced through the sharp reflection.

~*~

A tender stream of sunshower kissed her lids awake. The cerulean sky winked at her through the open window while her senses gingerly regained their functions after what felt like graveyard slumber. Finding herself alone, she wondered for a moment if the night before was only a fantasy; but this bed was too soft and far too large, and the sensation of shame licking between her thighs told her otherwise.

Even in his absence, Sherlock’s presence lingered. His pungent sweat layered on her skin, and from her torn seal trickled the pearly, forbidden essence of his loins. She allowed herself a moment of coy bliss, pressing her lips upon her bare shoulder to kiss the taste of him off her flesh when the thud of inching footsteps and creaking wood made her sit up with fright as if her presence was forbidden.

Huddling the blankets around her chest, she gulped as the door flung open.

Already dressed in a clean shirt, a vest of golden brown, and a long black jacket, the hulking man offered her a small wrinkle on his brow. Fine silks were folded on his forearm, and his eyes fell upon the naked beauty in his bed. A shadow of dark desire danced upon his slanted smirk as he noticed the little inkling of dry blood on the edge of the mattress.

“Slept well, my little Nessie?” He asked, passing a finger over his neatly combed locks before gesturing for her to approach him. Obedient as ever, his little servant quickly climbed out, immediately regretting her haste as a spear split through her core. With jolting legs, she swallowed her discomfort and approached him with her head lowered to the floor.

“No, we will have none of this,” Sherlock chided, his finger stalking beneath her chin to fix her stare on his. Their gazes met for a shy second and then he stepped back, unfolding the fabrics held beneath his arm.

A waterfall of black and crimson flowed down, hanging from his hands.

Vanessa’s eyes rounded with wonder; being a woman of lower status, she never owned anything as beautiful and expensive as the dress he held before her.

“Lift your arms, dove,” Sherlock commanded and she did as he bid.

The soft fabrics felt like warm liquid washing over her skin as Sherlock carefully slipped the dress over her head. His hands smoothly roamed her body, tugging at the delicate fabric to fit over her figure. The tall detective stepped to stand at her back and began working the laces of the corset embedded into the gown.

One by one, he tightened the silk binds as he pulled at the laces. Vanessa slightly hissed when her breasts squished against the generous cleavage.

“Forgive me,” Sherlock mumbled as he heard her distress, “I am not used to such… arrangements.”

“Arrangements?” she asked naively, though it quickly dawned on her that her dear master never had a wife or a mistress, which didn’t come much as a surprise after witnessing his bohemian desires the night before. And yet, no regret touched her heart as Sherlock pressed his hand over her torso and perched his chin atop her head once again.

“Look at us.” His lustrous eyes carried to the mirror, guiding hers to follow as he stroked his hand lower to flatten the folds of her dress and pushed her hair over her shoulders with the other.

“Don’t we make a pair?”

Glancing forward, Vanessa took a deep inhale. Crimson and black were unusually beautiful as they graced her figure. The rim of the cleavage was beaded with fine black jewels that gave her appearance an elegant, yet erotic flavour.

Taken by her new design, she allowed herself to be swallowed into Sherlock’s beautiful darkness.

She wouldn’t have him without it.

___________________________________

Additional notes: I don’t own Sherlock Holmes or Enola Holmes franchise. Thanks to @wondersofdreaming @wolvesandhoundshowltogether and @sapphirescrolls for moral support.

#henry cavill #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x ofc #Henry Cavill fanfiction #henry cavill sherlock holmes #henry cavill x reader #sherlock holmes x reade #enola holmes fanfiction

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

An Offer

Warnings: coercion, threats, slightly blackmail-ish, intimidation, entrapment, implied noncon

This is dark!(lumberjack/nomad) Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Steve makes you an offer you can’t refuse.

Based on this drabble request:

Nomad Steve Rogers + “You'll never find anyone better than me.” + Lumberjack AU + Smashed and broken dreams of a good career forces reader back home. With a degree in her hand but no real chance of finding a good job reader has to accept any job she finds and Steve isn’t making it easy cause he wants her so he sabotages any job opportunity to make her depended on him. This really hits home 😭. Sorry 😭.

When you sat in your college lectures, you never expected to end up there. Never expected to be carrying armfuls of wood to a large stack, splinters catching in your gloves as each piece clacked between the noise of the logs being split. You didn’t expect to be working for pennies, busting your ass for hours, just to pay for the room above the liquor store in your hometown.

You didn’t expect any of it. It was a surreal nightmare. It was as if that purgatory could never let you go. The small town’s always claimed what was theirs. Blood grown of that soil could not venture far before the roots dragged them back, a constricting coil around the throat.

Another log split, almost exploding as the two halves fell on either side of the stump. Steve took one and chopped it again, then the other. Perfect quarters for you to pile in your arms and add to the mounting stack. Your sweat soaked the flannel coat, the same kind your father wore when you were a child, the same that everyone in town seemed to have somewhere in their closets.

Steve rested the head of the axe on the stump and leaned on it as he watched you.

“Think that’ll do,” he said as you heard him scratch his beard, “supposed to be a mild winter.”

“Mild? Around here? You know that just means the snow stops at the knee, right?”

You carried the last of the wood to the pile and laid it out in the niches perfectly. It was like a Tetris game, every piece had its place. You clapped off your gloves and looked back at Steve as he shook out his jacket and pulled it back on. Even as his work left him sweaty, you didn’t know how he could stand to take it off and bear the bitter winds in only a tee.

“My knees are higher than yours,” he said, “think I’ll be fine.”

“Uh huh,” you put your hands on your hips and looked out at the trees, the sun setting behind them in an amber haze.

“Hey,” he interrupted your sightseeing, “how about you stay for dinner? I finally tried that chili recipe…”

“You? Cooking?” you shook your head, “so that’s why I’m out here lugging wood.”

“Is that yes?”

“Do you have pepto?” you joked, “sure, guess I could. Save me the trouble of opening a can at home.”

You followed him inside as he held the door for you. You shoved your gloves in your flannel pocket and hung it as you wiggled out of your boots. Usually you tidied and did the household chores as Steve worked outside. It wasn’t much of a job but there was nothing to be had in the lifeless town. Still, even with the work you found in the city, you couldn’t afford even a closet to live in.

The house was nice, big. The country land was cheap and as Steve told it, he built the entire thing himself. It was a wooden castle with better amenities than most of the antique houses in town. He bragged about how he chose every countertop and cut down every leg of every chair and sanded and polished the thick table over a willowy fall.

But you wondered how he ended up there. He wasn’t from the town and his accent was not of the nearby metropolis. He must be from far away. You could see it was an escape from the life he didn’t talk about.

You sat at the table as he clinked around in the kitchen. He came out with two red bowls and set one before you as he sat at the corner near you. He handed you a spoon with a wooden handle and you twirled it as you watched the chili steam.

“Did you make these too?” you asked.

“Ha,” he said dryly and stirred his bowl.

“Well…” you shrugged and looked around.

He smiled at you and leaned his head back until his neck cracked. He let his spoon rest and rubbed his jaw. It twitched and he looked out the big bay windows of the dining room, the ridged bark and overgrown grass staring back.

“I…” he shifted and leaned on the arm of the chair, “I slipped your pay in your jacket.”

“Oh, thanks,” you were embarrassed to talk about money. He knew how little you made even if he did pay you generously for the work you did.

“But… I did want to talk about it, er, about…” he sighed and rested his chin in his hand as he traced his lower lip in thought. He sat up and cleared his throat, “we get along, don’t we?”

“Sure,” you blew on a spoonful and tasted the chili. It was spicy but not bad.

“I know how hard it’s been, Maggie, Lester, Jeff… tough break.”

You swallowed and sat back. You frowned. “How did you…” your resume had been turned down by almost every business owner and manager in town.

“It’s a small place, like that box you’re living in.”

“Steve--”

“I’m not saying it to embarrass you but… because I… want to…” he gripped his spoon, thought about having a bite, then let it go again, “I want to make you an offer.”

“You pay me more than you should for doing your chores,” you left your spoon in the bowl and ran your nails up and down your jeans, picking at the little metal snap by the pocket.

“That’s not--” he squared his shoulders and all humour left his face. He bit down and the vein in his head surged, “you could live here. The place is more than big enough… lonely.”

“I can’t--”

“Please, just listen,” he raised his palms, “I’m lonely and you’re in a bind. We could help each other.”

You squinted and shook your head. He took a breath and leaned forward. He reached under the table and touched your knee. He slid his hand up your thigh until it met yours and you stopped him.

“What--”

“You don’t even have to keep on cleaning or any of that,” he said quietly, “just be mine. You’ll be comfortable here. All you have to do is… be here… with me.”

“Steve,” you held onto his thick fingers, “maybe you don’t mean it that way but I’m not… not a prostitute.”

“It wouldn’t be that,” his throat constricted, “it would be convenient; practical.”

“I should go,” you shoved his hand off of you and stood, “you did a good job with the chili.”

The chair scraped behind you as you stepped out from between it and the table. Steve was fast and caught your shoulder before you could evade him.

“Go where? Do what exactly?” his voice was stern and stolid, “huh? No one in town’s gonna hire you, we both know that. And you can’t make it in the city.”

“That’s mean, Steve, I want to go,” you pouted, “let me go.”

“Why can’t you see I’m helping you?”

“You have helped me but what you’re… offering is insulting, don’t you understand?”

“It’s generous is what I’d say,” he grabbed your other arm and pulled you close as he snarled down at you, “I can give you everything you need and want, all you have to do is give me…” his eyes crawled down your body, “a little sweetness.”

“Steve--”

“You’re proud, I get it, you don’t want to admit you have no choice but what happens when Fletcher needs that room for storage or he rents it out to a higher bidder? Where do you go then? Huh, you keep handing out that resume and what has that degree got you but sorrys and no thank yous?”

“Get off--” you pushed on his chest as he squeezed your arms painfully.

“Let me tell you I will be the only yes you ever get,” he growled, “I made sure of it.”

“Wha-- I--”

“I’m not driving you back to town,” he released you, “so if you really wanna go, if your pride is worth all that, you can walk and see if you beat the wolves. Or you can stay and earn that extra bill I put in your pocket.”

“Steve, what the hell?”

“Your call,” his fingers stretched around the waist of his jeans as he flexed his chest, “reception’s shit so good luck getting a ride.”

“You can’t--”

“Let me make this easy for you. Walk and see if you make it home, stay and you’re already home.”

You searched his face. You’d never seen this side of him. You blinked and spun on your heel. Fuck him. You’d drive yourself and he could tell the police you stole his truck. You ran to the front door and snatched his keys from the hook. You bent to grab your boots but his hand on the back of your neck stopped you.

He wrenched you back and tossed you against the wall. The keys tumbled to the floor and he kicked them away, “no cheating,” he said, “you wanna go then?”

Before you could answer the high whine of a coyote cut through the air and the glass slats of the front door dimmed. You faced him and your heart beat wildly.

“Why?”

“You going?” he asked again.

“Steve--”

“Well?”

“You can’t do this,” you pleaded, “keep your money then. Just take me home.”

“No,” he marched towards you and pinned you by your neck against the wall. His hand threatened to stifle your breath as he leaned in, “go or stay?”

You batted away tears with your lashes. You turned your head as far as you could whimpered as the sky continued to darken through the marbled glass, “Steve.”

“Go or stay?” he rasped as his breath tickled your cheek.

You trembled and touched his wrist. He squeezed just a little and you gasped, “and if I get lost? If I die out there?”

His lips curved and he chuckled lightly, “you willing to take that risk?”

You watched him, looking for any crack in his veneer, looking for an ounce of the man who’d been your godsend in that desolate town. He wasn’t there. It had all been an act, a trick. He had you in his snare like any good hunter.

“What choice do I have?” you whispered.

He pressed his forehead to yours and his large nose brushed against the tip of yours, “I’m not that bad,” his other hand crept along your stomach, “you’ll see that,” he played with the ribbed cotton, “you'll never find anyone better than me.”

🪓🪓🪓

Please reblog and leave some feedback if you enjoyed. Thank you 💕

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #nomad steve rogers #nomad!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fic #drabble #dark fic #dark drabble #dark!fic #dark!drabble #request #marvel #mcu #captain america

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monodipita · 3 years

Text

Security (Yandere!Satoru Gojo x Non-Sorcerer Reader

Part 2 of the Yandere Satoru Gojo Reader-Insert Series!

Word Count: 1,954

Warnings: YANDERE CONTENT. GORE WARNING.

"When will you see that what I'm doing is good for you, [Y/N]? The world isn't safe for you anymore. I've told you this many times, and yet, you won't listen to me." His voice used to be as smooth as butter, now scratchy and raw from the screaming he'd done. Yours was completely gone. It'd given out by the second day of being in this hellhole.

Still, your eyes glared at him through the cage's bars like you had plenty to say to him.

"Don't look at me like that, please. I love you too much for you to be upset with me," his brows crumpled as his expression did behind those black optics of his. He reached up to grab your hand through the bars, but you only slapped it away from him. He recoiled from the bars and glared at you silently for a few moments.

"FUCK!" His outburst was sudden. You flinched at it, just in time to miss him use one of the many powers at his arsenal to flip the couch over in his apartment. A loud clang, followed by the sound of glass breaking, however, spared you any details you might've missed. The couch had been flipped over and it destroyed the coffee table.

You gasped and pressed your back against the cold, metal bars of the cage. Any distance mattered with him. "Y-you're a monster-!!" You sputtered through the pain of your throat begging you to stop speaking. You coughed, squeezing your eyes shut from the pain. "No, n-no, no no no," Gojo stormed over to the bars again, gripping them taut in his hands and looking at you intently. "[Y/N], no, please. It's not what it looks like, please-"

"-Leave me alone," your mouth worded. Your hands went over your face.

"...you'll come around again. You'll love me again, I know you will." Gojo removed himself from the bars. "All you need is time, I know it, and we'll go back to having dates every Friday... we'll go back to holding each other under the moonlight while Law & Order plays on the TV, I know it. I-I'll be back, okay? I'll give you some time to yourself. I'll get some medicine for that nasty cough while I'm out, okay?"

There were some sounds likely concerning the flipped-over couch, followed by the sounds of footsteps and the door opening, then closing. Another day to yourself... maybe. He might just drop off the medicine and leave. You sighed with relief. You could go back to focusing on how to get out of the cage in peace.

But it was hopeless. Some hours later, you were stuck with staring at the TV that faintly played anime on it. The door opening caused you to flinch and swallow thickly. Who was it?

It was none other than him. Two bags were in his hands. One was small, while the other... smelled good, like food. Your favorite food. "...[Y/N]," he addressed you as he walked up to the cage. "I got you something to eat to take with these meds, alright? A friend of mine hooked me up with something." He reached into the small bag to produce a pill bottle for you to see. He reached into the cage and gently set it down on the blanketed ground. "...would you like to come out here and eat it with me..."

He swallowed thickly.

"W-would you like to go outside... and we eat it together..."

You glared at him through the bars. Your stomach audibly growled, but you were stalwart. Eat? With him? He was just tempting you. There was no way he was going to let you out of this cage willingly. But that food... how long could you willingly ignore him until he left the food behind?

"Please," Gojo bowed his head, "I know you can't speak right now, but I know you're ignoring me... I-I can't take it."

"No, I can't take it anymore..."

He was careful to put the food down elsewhere and out of the way. You clambered to scramble away from the middle of the cage, to the back, where you would've been safe from his arms. But no... he was doing something different around this time. You looked on in awe and horror as his hands unlocked the cage. The door slowly crept open to reveal a world that you'd been deprived of for far too long. But you stayed put. Your eyes never left Gojo's figure, even if your heart beat at the anticipation of freedom. There was no freedom with this man, he was only unlocking his cage to restrict you further.

His arms climbed into the opened cage, soon, his body followed. His arms wrapped around your frozen body and pulled it close to his. The warmth of another human being was comforting, it almost made you close your eyes and nuzzle into his form.

But this was no man that you could live comfortably around any longer.

You struggled against his grasp, your hands went to his cheeks, your fingers dug their nails into his skin and pulled down. You could feel the skin underneath tearing, enough so to draw blood. "I won't let go," Gojo hissed through clenched teeth. With your body now taut against his, he pulled you out of the cage. He felt so much stronger than you... because he was. He picked your body up like it was nothing. He grabbed onto the pill bottle he left inside the cage, he grabbed the food, and he began to carry you out of the apartment.

It was uncomfortable at first... you didn't want to be anywhere within the proximity of this man, but to be out on the street, enjoying, bathing and basking in the sunlight that touched your skin for the first time in days... weeks, maybe, it felt all too good. You were frozen by simply enjoying the outside. You ate your food like it was nothing and scarfed down every last bit of it. Your drink felt nice running down your throat. Being outside was nice. No one around but the two of you, it would've been an ideal date.

"Are you enjoying yourself, [Y/N]? Isn't this nice?" Gojo's voice threatened to shatter your grandeur illusions. You nodded quickly to dismiss him, and returned to eating your food.

Until you felt Gojo's hand violently push your body down onto the ground.

You let out a coarse scream as your body collapsed on the sidewalk. Your arms did little to absorb the blow, in fact, it just made things worse, you could feel how skinned-up they were after only a moment of being in contact with the cement. You turned your head in horror to see Gojo lifting himself off of the bench and turning to face away from you, as if you weren't even there anymore... like he didn't know you existed.

"You're pretty perceptive, aren't you? I thought slaughtering your friend was enough of a hint for you to leave me alone," he spoke. It seemed like he was speaking into the air at nothing for all you knew. Your eyes widened with bewilderment, and they watched as Gojo walked up to whatever it was, or whoever it was that he was talking to... and wrapped his hand around it. You audibly gasped when you heard something audibly choking while Gojo raised it into the air... but what was it?! Nothing was there!!

You scrambled to your feet. This might've been the chance to escape!

"Get down, [Y/N]! NOW!" Gojo roared, "don't you EVER walk away from me!" His head flung in your direction and made you freeze with those deep, impossibly blue eyes of his. You swallowed thickly and dropped back to your knees by command, grimacing in pain from the feeling. How... how were you still responding to his commands? You had every chance to be free...

...instead, you watched, your eyes glued to the scene before you. Gojo had resorted to taking his anger out on whatever it was that he held in his hands by now, you could see every little piece of gore splattering all over the place. Blood coated his fists as his punches became progressively aggressive, until he resorted to bashing. Brain matter flew where it could.

The smell of iron began to flood the air, making you feel almost nauseous. What was he doing? What was he hitting that could actually cause all of this blood to come out of it? Was that... was that brain matter?

"I'm not going to listen to them, do you understand me?" He hissed to the corpse underneath them, "I love [Y/N] with all of my heart. I won't listen to anyone... who tells me that I cannot experience love in my life, no one!" His voice broke out into a yell, making you flinch again. It was horrifying to see something like this. The blood on him was real, the brain matter on the ground was real. You hysterically sobbed; you needed to get out of here, and fast. You felt that your life was in danger.

You tried to bring yourself to stand, but your knee pain was unbearable. You hissed and sat back on your ass to examine the wound, light scratch marks mingled with blood, dirt, and loose cement like you'd fallen off a scooter. "Ugh!" You sobbed out. Keep trying, keep trying, keep—

"Did you hurt yourself? I'm so sorry for not paying attention, but something important grabbed mine,"

Gojo lifted himself from the ground. You glanced up at him through bleary eyes... no, you couldn't let him touch you, at any cost. So you did what you thought was best: and began to backwards crawl into the street behind you, to reach the other side of the sidewalk. He wouldn't dare walk into the street, would he? It was hypocritical of you to think that way of course, but you felt safer being in the street than anywhere near him.

"[Y/N], no! Please," Gojo stumbled forward, clenching the bench tightly in order to balance himself while his free hand extended for you. "Please, come back. I can't bear the idea of losing you!"

"St-stay away from me!" You screamed at him, your voice clearly scratchy. That was enough speaking for now, your voice couldn't handle anything else. You could feel your hands touch the hot bitumen under you. You were on the street now. As quickly as you could, you attempted to pass. But he was quicker.

"Don't you understand? The world doesn't want us to be together," he sounded delirious. The blood coated his face and hands, his shirt. His glasses were gone. Those blue eyes that you'd never seen before stared at you. "But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to keep us together, even if it means resorting to drastic measures." A wary smile spread across his lips. "I need you for my sanity, I need you for my serotonin. I can't envision a world without you, I don't want to, don't you see that?"

Your hands gave underneath you and made you fall flat. You rolled over into the fetal position and squeezed your eyes shut. You didn't have the strength to resist his arms as they wrapped around you so carefully. He lifted you off the ground and pulled you into his arms, hugging you taut to his chest as he forced you to stand. He kissed your temple sweetly as he began to drag you back into the house.

Back to the cage.

"The world doesn't want us to be together, but I won't let that stop me."

#yandere #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #yandere satoru gojo #reader insert #gender neutral insert

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garbagevanfleet · 3 years

Text

Brightest Blue (series)

PART THIRTEEN

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: light sexual content, feelings Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place.

Notes: SURPRISE! My depressed ass is back and I missed fawning over this fic. Thank you to everyone that stuck around. I love you guys.

Big thanks to my girlfriend and beta, @lantern-inthenight <3

taglist: @valleyd0ll @satingrass-maidensfair @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @peaceisouranthem @oblvions @hansonobsessed @myownparadise96 @anditsmywholeheart @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies @bigblack-catattack

MASTERPOST

When you woke the next morning, it was to the sound of a muffled melody. The room was cast in a fiery orange glow as the rising sun peeked in through the window. You sat up in bed, straining your ears to listen.

Noticeably missing, was Josh - the side of the bed he had been sleeping on was turned down, but you placed your hand on the sheets to find them cold.

The chill on the hardwood made your toes curl as you padded across it, first to your bedroom to pull on a pair of sweatpants, and then back to Josh’s room to slip one of his sweatshirts over your bare chest.

Once you were no longer naked, and a little more awake, you quickly figured out that the music was coming from under the closed bathroom door, and you stopped in front of it to have a listen.

The sound of Josh’s voice carried well into the hall, though he was keeping it quiet, probably for your benefit.

You placed your fingers over your mouth absently as you listened to the notes rise to a lovely height and then dip down again. You couldn’t quite make out the words, but you didn’t need to.

It shocked you enough to make you flinch when he opened the bathroom door abruptly - you had figured he was just taking a pause in the song.

When he spotted you, he jumped back, letting a curse fall from his lips. “God, I didn’t think you’d be awake yet - you almost gave me a heart attack,” he blurted through an exasperated smile.

“I’ve never heard you sing before,” you said, just above a whisper in the quiet space. “Your voice is so lovely.”

He looked you up and down for a second, his face turning peachy. “I haven’t wanted to for a while. Outside of school, anyway.”

You let a smile find your lips at the implication of his words, and it fell silent between you again. He was standing, posture unsure as he, undoubtedly, tried to gauge whether everything was still okay after last night.

The temptation to touch him was too much, especially once you realized he probably needed all the reassurance you could give. His skin was warm as you reached out and ran your fingertips lightly over the pink skin on his cheek. He careened into your touch, turning his head just enough to press a kiss into the meaty part of your thumb. The gesture made your chest feel tight.

“Come back to bed,” you suggested through a whisper and watched him suck his bottom lip into his mouth, teeth visibly pressing into the plush skin.

“I can’t,” he replied breathily as you took his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “I don’t have the time.”

You nodded back at him with a teasing smile. “Sure you do.”

“Don’t tempt me, babe,” he pleaded from low in his chest. “I have a show at noon.”

You breathed a laugh, threading your fingers through his hair. “Call me that again,” you said against his ear. It was you dragging your teeth over his earring that made him groan.

“Please - for the love of god - keep this energy for when I get back tonight.”

You hummed, pressing a kiss to the peak of his cheekbone. “Okay. Can I help?”

“Oh, yeah, for sure. Just wait for me here - it’ll probably help save time if you’re naked ahead of time-”

You smacked his shoulder, pulling a delighted laugh from his chest - always excited to say something stupid. “With the show.”

“If you’d like to, I’d love to have you. But you’re going to have to hustle and get dressed,” he instructed.

You scoffed. “Not the noon show-” You turned back towards his room and looked back over your shoulder. “No, right now I’m going back to bed.”

+++

You hadn’t put any thought at all into what you’d wear for the other two shows you’d be attending - you knew you could recycle the dress once on Sunday if you paired it with something else, but for Saturday evening’s show, you were stuck crawling to the only other person you knew whose clothes would fit you.

This time when you approached Kate’s house, you had come prepared with a milk-bone, which was good, because it was her huge dog that greeted you. When he stood up on his hind legs, he was able to look directly into your eyes through the glass on the door, his tail wagging.

You watched Kate round the corner into the entrance hall, wearing a knee-length black robe, the silk shining as she moved in the sunlight. She gave you a puzzled look, cracking the door.

“Sorry to show up unannounced,” you said with an insincere smile. “Can I give your dog a treat?”

She laughed at you, opening the door the whole way and letting you slip in.

“I’m going to assume that you’re not just here to make Yeti fat.” Her voice sounded a bit too knowing for your taste.

“You’re right! I’m also here to raid your closet, if you’ll let me,” you replied. “I need an outfit for the show tonight.”

She started down the hall and towards her room, ushering for you to follow. “You’re going again?”

You nodded, though she wasn’t looking directly at you. “Yeah, of course.”

When you got into her room, you sat on her bed, and you absolutely wouldn’t have noticed Jake if Yeti hadn’t instantly trotted over to him to sit by his feet. He was sitting at a little circular cafe-style table in the corner of her room, a mug of something hot in front of him.

You glanced over at him and were met with a cheeky little smirk.

“You - uh. Yeah, I’m going to help with the show tonight,” you said after you decided you weren’t ready to address that situation yet.

“Ah,” she started, and though she was facing away from you into the closet, you could hear a matching smirk through her voice. “I really only have clothes that match my style, which I would define as ‘mildly tramp’.”

You hummed contemplatively. “Let’s start with the most professional ensemble and then work our way back. Maybe something you’d wear to a wedding?”

“You don’t want something I’d wear to a wedding,” she teased but pulled out a few garments all the same.

“So, uhm. Am I interrupting something?” you finally chanced, sneaking a glance back at Jake.

“Not at all,” Kate replied, unhelpfully. “Now go try some of these on and tell me what you think.”

In the end, the only thing she owned that you deemed acceptable - and also even remotely your style was a thigh-length, black dress - form-fitting.

You stared at it dubiously in the mirror.

You’d have to put a coat over it, but you thought you could make it work.

“Are we going to talk?” Kate asked, a little smirk playing on her lips as she held her nails out to inspect them. They were unpainted but perfectly manicured.

You chanced a glance over at Jake - who was now sitting on the floor with Yeti nearly in his lap. He was working his fingers through the thick, white fur as he met your eyes.

“Yeah, let’s talk about it,” he agreed, flashing you his teeth.

Luckily enough, you found the moment more humorous than embarrassing, so you just scratched absentmindedly at the back of your neck.

“Well,” you started and then paused as you tried to figure out how much was appropriate to disclose. “I’m going to his show again tonight. And tomorrow.”

Kate huffed, feigning impatience. “Yeah, okay, but that doesn’t tell me anything because you’d do that anyway.”

You gave her a playful shrug. “That’s all I got for you right now. But I’ll tell you all about it when I’ve processed everything.”

“Ooh, shit. That sounds juicy.” Her eyes lit up as she spoke, making you chuckle. You turned your attention to Jake again then.

“And I’m sure you’ll hear all about it,” You flicked your eyes back over to Kate in an accusatory look. “One way or another.”

+++

That night you sat in the audience alone - well, not alone, but without Kate or Jake. Most of the seats were filled again, at least partially with faces you remembered seeing the night before.

The show was just as fun and entertaining as the last, except this time, when Josh walked out onto the stage at the end, he met your eyes for a moment, letting them linger before tugging a couple of his kids into a side hug and smiling wide for all the parents.

As soon as most people had dissipated, he met you at your seat, but before he could even open his mouth to greet you, a parent of one of the kids was shaking his hand. The dad poured his praises, thanking Josh for working with his daughter - you guessed maybe it was Alice, but you had nothing to base that guess on. Josh handled it effortlessly, charming as ever.

By the time the parent had left you, you and Josh were some of the last people still lingering.

“I’ve gotta grab my stuff backstage,” he informed you, tiling his jaw up in that general direction. “Wanna come?”

With a smile, you nodded an agreement and let him offer you a hand as you made your way out of the tight seats.

Backstage was infinitely more chaotic than it was when you’d last seen it. Set pieces were strewn about - not unorganized, but everywhere. You had to weave through them to get to where his backpack was propped against a folding table, costume accessories spilling off the surface of it.

“Do you want me to help clean up back here?” you asked, eyeing the messes. He hummed through a smile.

“Nah, I’ve got a system,” he informed you, and then after you gave him a doubtful look, he added, “Seriously. And until you’re directing a cast of children in a play that you produced, I don’t want to hear your objections.”

His teasing tone made you bite back a grin. “It’s amazing - really. I’m just offering my help.”

The backpack looked heavy as he slung it over his shoulder, holding the strap across his chest with both hands. “Then take me home,” he requested playfully, flicking his eyes to the back exit.

“Happily.”

+++

On Sunday, after the very last matinee show, you spent an hour helping him sort all the costumes - every tiny piece in a garment bag and labeled accordingly. The rest, he insisted, he would work on during school hours the following day.

You suddenly wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a hug, resting your temple on his shoulder and taking a moment to relish in the fact that you’d taken him by surprise.

“I want to take you out tonight - a congratulations of sorts,” you said as you leaned back far enough to see his cheeks flush a flattering peachy color.

“Really?”

“Only if you want to.” You paired your sentence with a casual shrug.

He flashed you a pleased smile. “Of course I want to. I’d love that,” he agreed.

You let him pick the place, and in the end, he landed on a hole-in-the-wall diner that he swore was the absolute best place to get pancakes in the middle of the night. Even though it was close to nine, you both sipped on coffee as you waited for your order.

“I can’t believe it’s over,” he said as you watched his fingers idly rub across the ceramic mug in his hands. “There was so much lead-up and drama that it feels weird for it all to be behind me.”

“It was really incredible, Josh. I honestly can’t believe that you pulled it off with all that went wrong.”

He looked up at you through his fan of lashes. He looked tired, but not uncomfortably so - just enough that you knew he worked his ass off.

“We pulled it off. I could have never done it without you,” he stated, charmingly earnest as always.

You huffed a humorless laugh. “That’s not true - If I hadn’t moved in, you’d never have lost your assistant in the first place.”

His expression melted away until his face was blank. “I-”

He paused, visibly trying to figure out how he wanted to word the next line out of his mouth. “That wasn’t your fault. I didn’t really know what was happening until it was too late to change it.”

“I know, I just. I’m happy that it ended up this way, I just wish it hadn’t almost derailed your whole production.” You could feel your features slip into something mournful, making him frown.

He was quiet for a moment before speaking again. “How do you even know about that?”

You hummed. “Kate told me. Jake told her.”

He glared off into the distance, but on him, the look was completely unthreatening. It was so out of place that it made you giggle.

“I’m not sure I like how close they are,” he grumbled through a smile he couldn’t hold back.

“Yeah, I hear you. I went to her house this morning to rummage for this dress-”

He cut you off, eyes raking over your form. “You look amazing, by the way.”

You gave him a pointed look and a little eye roll, though you had to admit you were flattered.

“Yes, well, Jake was at her house this morning. Petting her dog.”

His eyebrows lifted, lashes blinking a few times in surprise. After a moment, he cleared his throat and spoke again. “Well. I suppose you got what you wanted then, right?”

The irritation that was evident on your features was unwarranted - you knew that in your heart, but it didn’t stop you from letting out a childish huff.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you and I would be-”

You cut yourself off just as his eyes flicked up at you over the rim of his mug.

“You and I would be what?” he asked coyly. You took a moment to admire the fact that his cheeks and the bridge of his nose were still a bit tanned despite it now being well into winter. A little like a bronze statue.

“I didn’t think you and I would be...a thing,” you finished simply, keeping your tone light.

He quirked an eyebrow at you, all too suspicious for your liking. “No?”

A puzzled look flashed across your face. “No,” you agreed. “Why? What does that mean?”

He took a too-long sip of coffee, holding your eyes just to fuck with you - you were sure. He cheekily bit his bottom lip as he figured out how to word what he wanted to say. “Nothing really,” he assured, though you were unconvinced.

You were going to press the topic further, but your thought was cut short when the server showed up with a tray of your food and another carafe of hot coffee. He made light conversation with Josh as he filled both of your mugs near to the brim, and you watched the steam rise off of it as you pondered which flavored syrup you’d drown your pancakes in.

The sound of the little metal cup of creamer being slid across the tabletop toward you got your attention, and your eyes lingered on Josh’s hand as his fingers brushed past yours.

“Cream, babe?” he inquired, though he was well aware of exactly how you took your coffee.

Your heart skipped a beat as you processed what he’d said. That was the second time he’d called you that in the months you’d known him, and it had the same effect on you this time that it had the last time. You met his eyes, catching his fingers with yours for just a brief second, forcing a mischievous smile to his lips.

You poured a bit of cream into your coffee and stirred it until it was a medium brown.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” you asked fondly and watched him bite his bottom lip absently to try and keep his smile from stretching into a grin.

“Help myself from what?” His tone was cheeky, informing you that he knew exactly what you were talking about. It was evident that the two of you were playing a game now - something light and coy. You paused to take a bite or two of your food, happy enough to leave him in suspense for a moment longer.

“Calling me that.”

He hummed, low in his throat. “Is that not alright?”

“Doesn’t it seem a bit out of place?” You watched as he reached across the table to stab at a piece of your pancake, bringing it to his mouth and chewing it before giving his answer.

“Why would it? Are we not on a date right now?”

A look of genuine shock flashed across your features. Not caring how rude it was, you asked through a mouth full of food, “Are we?”

There was a long pause in the conversation as he ate, and you wondered for a moment if you had upset him until he looked back up at you. He was biting back a smile as he leaned back in his seat.

“Back before the musical, you were complaining about the cold - do you remember?”

You frowned in concentration as you searched your brain. “Which time? I pretty frequently complain about the temperature here.”

He breathed a laugh. “Yeah, you do. I thought you were going to freeze to death at first. But there was something you said that glued itself to my frontal lobe.”

You gave him a questioning look, prompting him to continue.

“You said, ‘if we move away from here, can we move somewhere warm?’.” He just held your eyes for a moment as your heart beat suddenly inched toward erratic. “We.”

You took a deep breath, suddenly feeling a little jittery and took another bite of pancake before you could say something truly stupid.

After a moment of silence to let you process, he spoke again. “So, I think maybe you knew we would end up being a ‘thing’, right?”

“I don’t know a whole lot, Josh,” you admitted, reaching out and placing your hand on his and lightly running your fingers over his skin. “But, I do know that since the moment I met you, I wanted to be close with you. You’re magnetic. I truly think you could have anyone you wanted if they listened to you talk - just once.”

Despite having been the one to start the whole conversation, a peachy pink tint surfaced across his cheeks and nose at the compliment.

Clearly not interested in continuing such an intimate conversation at a busy diner, he placed his palm flat on the table and asked, “Are you ready to get out of here? I think if I drink any more coffee my heart might give out.”

“You could just switch to decaf,” you suggested, smirking at him as he squinted back at you like you had personally insulted him.

He stood and leaned across the table until his face was only six inches or so from yours. “I’d rather die, thank you.”

#brightest blue fic #Greta Van Fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #josh x reader #joshxreader #josh kiszka

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thecolordemon · 4 years

Text

Short story: Belphegor kills MC

This is a angsty and sad short story about the MC during their dying process after Belphegor hurt them so bad...

⚠️❗Angst, Sadness, mentions of blood, wounds and death❗⚠️

Title: "I forgive you"

The nightly silence in the House of Lamentation was broken when Belphegor pushed you against a huge vase. The fragile object crashed to the ground and shattered into million pieces. The fragments on the black marble looked like spilled stars and there was a strange beauty in it. But you couln't care less about it right now because you couldn't breath. The marks which Belphegor's rough tail left on your sore throat just seconds ago were bright red and the sensitive skin was on fire.

You fell to the ground after your harsh collison with the vase and a painful gasp left your lips when the sharp shards burried themself deep inside your pink flesh. The pain was hot and jolted through your whole body like a lightning bolt. Crimson copper oozed from the many jagged wounds inside your palms and colored the floor like red rain. Your breath hitched in your throat and inhaling air was like swallowing knifes down your trachea. It felt like a hot blade sliced right through it and the pain made you feel nauseous.

Belphegors laugh ringed inside your ears from the room behind you. Sounding like a dark curse. "You humans really are foolish, idiotic, weak creatures, aren't you?" His evil snicker dripped from delight and you could hear his footsteps coming closer. "It's your own fault if you trust a demon. Don't blame me for your current situation, MC." His sing-sang voice scared you to death and you tried to crawl forward and away from the door. Away from the gates of hell... "That's all your fault."

But your hands couldn't carry your own weight and that's why you collapsed on the ground again. The adrenaline throbbed inside your ears and the sharps just pressed in further. Shakly you robbed forward and tried to get up on your knees. The fragments cut all through your clothes and left hurtful cuts all over your arms and legs. Some of them even sank into your kneecaps and made you cry out in pain.

Right at this moment Belphegor's long tail shot forward and wrapped itself around your left calf. All it needed was just one strong pull and you were on the ground again. Belphegor stood in the doorframe, all tall and drunk with power, when he dragged you over the black marble, over the the whole mess of broken glass and towards himself. He laughed like a maniac when the cutting continued and you cried because of the stinging pain. Being dragged all over the sharp shrads felt like you were being dragged over jagged gravel. Your legs already started to bruise from the impact before. The demon towered above you like a predator above it's prey and the sadistic grin on his lips bared his razor-sharp teeth.

"You smell delicious, you know that? Your blood really makes it even more fun." Now you laid right in front of his feet and his tightly wrapped tail cut of the blood supply to your leg. It already started to tingle and to feel weirdly numb. "Please-" you begged and the words stung in your throat, your voice being nothing more than a raspy whisper. "Please don't do this-"

"Oh MC, begging will get you nowhere." Belphegor kneeled down next you and grabbed your chin harshly. His dark, pointy nails burried themself inside your flushed cheeks and they drew blood. The smell of iron filled your nose and made your stomach twist with desperate protest. Tears watered in the corners of your eyes and dribbled over your flaming hot skin. Belphegor grinned and his rough tongue slid over your overheated flesh, catching all of the tears. He left sticky stripes of saliva on your right cheek and grinned even more when you crunched your nose in disgust.

"Who do you think you are to make such a face..." He licked over the red stains of blood that oozed down from your abused face. "You should be more grateful towards me, MC..." Suddenly his fist shot up and hit you violently on your right eye. You screamed in pain but he covered your mouth to shush the noise. He wanted to enjoy the show and he did not want to be interrupted too early. The hammering pain made you quiver and you were sure you heared some of your bones crack. You couldn't even see rigth with the eye anymore. Everything was a pounding, hurtful, black and red mess-you were pretty convinced that all the blood vessels in your right eye did burst because of the impact of his fist. But you were still losing tears.

Belphegor laughed louder as he examined your face closely. "Such a fragile creation! Useless! Utterly useless!" He laughed uncontrollably and his shoulders were shaking because it was so strong. His lilac eyes were those of a madman and he let go of your face with a painful twist of his wrist. His tail loosened a little bit and you were able to free your leg. You pulled yourself up but because of the lack of proper eyesight it was hard to keep a solid balance. Within mere seconds you grabbed one of the bigger shards and threw it at Belphegor. The demon flinched and dodged the thrown weapon which caused him to back away into the room from where he came.

Without looking back you stumbled away as fast as possible. The fear blinded you and all your nerves were on edge. You could hear him roaring viciously and staggered around the corner of the next floor. The pain was nearly taking over your body but you had to move further!

I can't give up- I can't- If I stop,I'll di--' Your legs gave in and you fell to the ground. The glass splinters pierced nerves and, muscles and caused your wounds to vomit even more blood. Like an hurt animal you crawled over the rough carpet beneath you. But you had to get up again-otherwise-

"YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT!!"

The blank anger in Belphegor's voice triggered you so much that you got up again. Fear can be a motivation-. You could feel a strange mixture of tears and something else dripping down from your abused eye and had to struggle with the feeling of throwing up. "-help-" you breathed out as you stumbled rashly along the never ending floor. "Somebody--help-" The beast was approaching. His thumbing steps were coming closer and closer within seconds. Furniture crashed behind you and a broken picture frame missed your head with mere inches/centimeters. You limped faster and wanted to scream but just as you opened your mouth, a heavy and powerful body smashed you to the ground.

You hit your head very hard on the black marble and again you heared a sickening cracking sound. You could feel something running down your neck, how something agglutinated your hair... You blinked dizzily and had a hard time to stay conscious. Your whole head was overwhelmed by the hot and dull throbbing pain and little black spots danced across your, already bad, vison. The heavy creature on top of you was growling dangerously and the monstrous shadow fell on your demolished features. It was hard to breath-

"I'll kill you, you know?" Belphegor's voice was a dark snarl and his teeth grazed the sensitive skin on your throat so carelessly that he drew more blood. "I'll will erase you from all the three realms and your soul will perish-" His hot breath made you sick and your weak attempts to push him away from you failed miserably. The power within you faded faster and faster... You wanted to say something but the words were like lava, heavy and gooey-You couldn't even understand them yourself.

"Don't you dare to look away MC! I want to see your eyes when their light fades away-" He laughed maniacally and grabbed your jaw violently. His nails dugged deep inside your chin and you could feel them claw over the bone beneath the skin. The hammering pain got more awful as his other hand slid to your hips to hold you in place. You tried to kick him away but your legs weren't listening to you anymore. His tail twitched threateningly above his head like a agressive snake and whipped through the air. It was hard to focus on anything else but the thickening atmosphere around both of you. The danger was so present, that it seemd like you could cut it with a knife. Belphegor hold your head in place with the other hand and his eyes glistened crazily and were glassy. It seemed like he wasn't there anymore...Like something overtook his body...

That wasn't the demon you knew-

"B-Belphie---pl-please-" you breathed. "Shh...don't waste your last breath, MC!" he replied happily. This was the biggest fun he had in years...He longed for this! "We were friends-" You could taste iron in your mouth. "Oh no. We never were friends. You're just a toy that I mobilized for my purposes." His lilac eyes pierced your dizzy vision and his long tongue curled in excitement. "I trusted you-" you whimpered. "Bad thing to do...Good bye, MC." And with this words he pierced your soft body with a harsh snap of his tail.

You wanted to scream but the only thing that left your lips was a sore whimper and a deep, aching breath of air. It felt like someone knocked the wind out of you and your lungs screamed in terror. Belphegor's tail was burried deep inside the pale flesh of your body and when he pulled out, he left a deep, bloody hole. Your heart went on a rampage and pumped the blood with all it's remaining energy through your veins. Calling out for help... It was like your heart was crying. It cried red tears of broken hopes and shattered promises, tears of despair and a lost love...

You didn't knew what hurt more...The fact that your life slowly faded away into the dark or the horrible reality that you've been so wrong about Belphie? Your hearbeat got weaker...you felt kinda cold and breathing in felt like inhaling razor-blades. "B-Belphie-" The demon above you frowned at your desperate whines. "Don't call me like that!" That was a thing only his twin was allowed to do, just him and nobody else! "You know nothing, you hear me? Your death means nothing to me! You're just like every other human being in this world."

Now, with your physical form broken, he tried to hurt you otherwise. And in a way more personal way. He was aiming for your psyche. He tried to break you in every possible way. He showed no mercy. He had no mercy. He was a wild beast driven mad by hatred and bad treatment. You winced and tried to calm your breath. "If-my death means nothing-then why are you-so eager to kill me anyway?" Belphegor blinked in confusion. "What's--the difference?-" You managed to look the avatar of Sloth right into his eyes. He stared at you like you insulted him. You could see his thoughts wild'n behind his head. He tried to find a valid reason. He tried to think of a justification why it would help him to kill you.

But there wasn't a valid reason. You helped him. He knew that. Without you he would be still stuck in the attic-locked away from the world like a caged animal. "Can't you see that you became the monster that Lucifer feared you could be?--" You coughed and spit blood all over your lips. Your breath lacked of power and the words sounded pretty slurry. "Shut up-I'm not a monster-" You interrupted his denial. "You are. -but that's okay--" You closed your eyes and hot tears poured over your lashes and cheeks.

You cried harder. "I forgive you-"

Belphegor's eyes widdened in shock and his fangs grew even sharper. Anger darkened his face like a dark cloud. "NO! YOU CAN'T FORGIVE ME! DON'T YOU DARE!" He grabbed your wrist and twisted it back in a sharp motion. Your bones cracked under his strong grip and you screamed in pain when he broke every single one of them. Your hand fell limp. Belphegor growled hatefully into your face. "You.won't.do.that!" His pupils were narrowed strongly and that made him look even more crazy.

This was his perfect moment, he wouldn't let you ruin it!

"You're nothing! A mere human like you does not have so much power over me! No one has! Your dumb and naive! Your dumb and naive if you think your stupid little words affect me!"

He was going insane. How could you not hate him?! How could you not beg for him to stop this torture?! Why were you still undermining his authority even though you were dying?!

You cried more and couldn't stop yourself from feeling sorry for the him. He was so lost in anger, so lost in his own mind that he lost all references to reality. "I forgive you, Belphie--"

"NO!" he roared and trew you across the whole floor. Again you hit your head hard but that didn't make such a big difference anymore. You were feeling awful anyway...

Belphegor kneeled on the floor, several metres away from you, crouched over and quivered like hell. His whole body shook from his jagged cries and his hands fisted into his bluish-grey strands of hair. His nails clawed over his face and left red stripes. He was fighting against himself, against the effects your words caused. It was like you put a spell on him and he tried to fight it off.

You were laying on your side and watched him apathetically. The blood colored the whole upper part of your uniform and stained the floor with it's red puddles. 'That's it...' you thought to yourself. 'It's going to be over soon...I am alone...'

That's when you heared a familiar sound.

Someone was talking-no...Lucifer was talking. You could here his voice growing louder as he came closer. He seemed to discuss something with Mammon. Powerlessly you rolled over to the other side, so that you could look down to the floor beneath you. You were lying on the balustrade on the second floor from which two stairs lead downstairs. Through the little pillars (that supported the railing)you were able to see Lucifer and Mammon coming closer. As you thought, they were busy with discussing something. Both of them totally clueless about the fight of life and death. That was your chance-

"L-Lucifer-" Saying his name was so exhausting... "M-Mammon-" They stopped right underneath the big chandelier but not because they heared your little pleas of help.

"-help-"

Lucifer spoke. "Mammon one last time, I'm not participating in your omnious bets. You'll lose all the money again because you do not learn from your failures." Mammon scoffed. "I'm not dumb, of course I learn!! It was just bad luck!"

You trembled and felt a strange cold approaching you. With your last ounce of strength you grabbed the railing with your good hand and pulled yourself up. It was hard and you had to balance your weight from one abused leg to another. Your body begged you to give in, to fall asleep-to give up-but your mind told you to keep on fighting. Now you were able to look down at Lucifer's raven hair and Mammon's white head. You were so close-

"Lu--cifer-m-mammon-"

One single drop of blood dripped from your chin and fell all the way down. You saw everything in slow motion. The little red drop brushed over Lucifer cheek and landed on his black shoulder pad. Mammon flinched and looked up. Lucifer did the same. When both their eyes land on you, you felt safe for a little moment.

Mammon smiled. "MC what--" He stopped right away when he noticed your terrible state of condition. His smile disappeared and turned into a shocked expression. All the color left his face and he looked like he saw a ghost. Lucifer's eyes widdened in shock, his mouth hung a little bit ajar.

Tears streamed down your face and the salty liquid mixed with blood and cold sweat. But you smiled powerlessly. They would help you-

"--thank yo-"

Suddenly something big appeared behind you. Before you could do anything else, claws digged deep inside your back and threw you over the railing. The next thing you remembered is that the whole room was rotating wildly. It all went so fast. You couldn't even scream. With a loud crash you fell to the hard ground.

Lucifer saw everything in slow motion. Your abused face, painted with dried blood and steamy tears, how hopefully your eyes lightened up when they noticed you, your broken hand which you pressed close to your body like a hurt little lamb...and Belphegor, his youngest brother, as he appeared behind you and hurled you over the balustrade like a doll.

Your fall was endless. But he couldn't do anything. But one thing was for sure. He would never forget the sound your body made when it crashed into the black marble ground. Your hair sprawled out around your head like a fading halo, sticky with blood and nearly all of your limbs were twisted in a sickenly wrong way.

Before Lucifer knew what to do, Mammon already started screaming in terror. "MC--NO--HELP!!!" He ran towards your body and crouched down beneath you. His screaming alerted the rest of his brothers and fast steps were coming from every direction. They all gasped in shock when they saw you laying there. You breath came in thin little gasps and you couldn't move. Everthing hurt so bad...at the same time you felt nothing at all. The crystal chandelier twinkled like a planet made of stars and mirrored your horrible reflection. You really looked awful...

That's you? The bloody mess with a smashed eye is supposed to be you?

Satan, Asmodeus, Leviathan and Beelzebub stared at you in shock. They couldn't move. They couldn't breath. They could just stare at you. Speechless. Hopeless. Clueless.

Lucifer fell to his knees and tried to stop the bleeding. He pulled his gloves off his hands and his long, slender fingers touched every cut, every bruise and every stab wound. "MC--stay with me-please-" His eyes were glassy with tears as he tried to heal the wounds but you already lost to much blood. Mammon sobbed. "MC--"

Belphegor stood on the balustrade and watched the whole thing going down. Pushing you over the edge seemed like the last possible thing to do. He watched how Lucifer failed to stop the bleeding and how your eyes wandered aimlessly over the ceiling. Your chest rose and lowered slower and slower with every passing second. Mammon cried loudly and hold you into his arms trying to protect you. "Dont do this MC-please-YOU CAN'T DIE!!"

Mammon's scream shook everyone to the core. You hiccuped blood and tried to say something but the red liquid drowned the words ruthlessly. Beel had to come forward and pulled his older brother to his chest. The big demon trembled and Mammon fought against his grip-screaming loudly and calling for help. But Beelzebub didn't let him go. He had to protect him. He had to protect MC-

Lucifer couldn't hold his tears back and he cried without any shame. "I'm so sorry MC--I'm trying b-but it's-it's not working--" Your eyes landed on his and he let out a shaky breath. You knew.

You knew you were going to die.

Lucifer embraced you in his arms and he pressed your fragile, abused body to his chest. "Please--someone--get Diavolo-he'll know what to do-he-" His voice broke as he lost his fight against the tears again. Diavolo was Lucifer's last hope--his only hope- After all he declared his loyal devotion to the demon prince. But he wasn't there. Diavolo wasn't there. And he wouldn't make it in time. Lucifer knew that. His brothers knew that. But it was impossible for him to just sit here and watch his beloved MC die in his arms-He had to do something, he-he is the oldest! He has to fix this, he has to find a solution, he-

"l-lucifer-"

His eyes shot back to you. You had lifted your good hand and managed to softly touch his cheek. Your fingers smeared blood all over his skin and the contact made him flinch. "-I'm sorry-" you whispered in a very thin voice. "I-should have-listened-to you-"

His hand found yours and Lucifer sobbed desperately. "MC-stop-don't say that-"

"it's--all my fault-" you explained with rasping breath. It was harder for you to focus your vison and big black spots interrupted the sight. You could feel your own life slipping through your fingers.

"-I'm-so grateful--for everything--you treated me like family-you welcomed me-I'll keep you in my heart-forever-"

Everything was going strangely numb...

You heared distant cries. They were from all the brothers. From all your beloved demons. You felt bad for leaving them. You felt bad for making them cry. You whished you could see them one more time.

Lucifer kissed your fingers softly and held onto you like his own life depended on it. His hands were shaky and he tried to keep his voice calm when he answered you.

"I love you-" he hiccuped and the tears streamed down without a stop.

Everthing was starting to black out.

You smiled sadly. "I--love you too--"

Your heart stopped.

"I---forgave---him---"

Your breathing stopped.

Your thoughts stopped.

Everything stopped.

Your hand fell to the ground. Lucifer could still feel your last touch lingering on his blood-smeared cheek. Time stopped.

And he screamed.

#obey me #obey me short fic #obey me sad #obey me angst #obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me lord diavolo #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me story #obey me hc #angst #sad short story #obey me satan #obey me brothers #obey me beelzebub

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jordanstrophe · 3 years

Text

Be a Good Guest, part 7

CW: Whump, captive Whumpee, *inhales* Possessive, parental, intimate overprotective whumper, shackles, belting references, whumpee chipped with a tracker, angst, emotional whumpee

(holo, yes, we are back with original Walter and Gabriel, and didn’t want to neglect the cabin)

Masterlist

Gabriel blinked awake, the sensation in his neck had shifted from burning pain to soreness. He squinted as he stared at the painting on the wall trying to remember where he was. Wait, when did he get into bed? Hadn’t he fallen asleep on the couch? He sat up and instantly winced, placing his hand over the fresh bandage on the side of his neck. Did he actually shoot a chip into his neck? How could someone be so heartless and cruel? He felt like a claimed and tagged animal. He touched his feet to the hardwood floor, the heavy chain around his ankle falling to the floor into a coil with a clatter. He hated himself for starting to get used to the chain.

He jumped when the door opened as Walter peaked his head in. “Hey little one, good morning.” He smiled with a soothing tone, almost worried speaking too loudly would hurt or frighten him. Gabriel hated even more how he talked to him like he was some tiny fragile little thing.

“How do you feel? Can I get you anything?” Walter asked.

Not wanting to talk to him, Gabriel only shook his head, regretting it instantly as a pulse of pain shot through his neck as he hissed with a cringe. Walter was quick to push the door open all the way, trying to sit next to him on the bed as Gabriel whimpered and leaned away.

“Oh, no no no. You’re fine honey, don’t be frightened.” He cooed, wrapping an arm around him to keep him from going any further. Gabriel was silent as he cowered in response, Walter could feel how tense he was as he trembled slightly. “Are you mad at me?” Walter asked. Gabriel didn’t even look at him, but a single tear running down his cheek answered his question. Walter used his sleeve to wipe it away as he tilted his chin up.

“Come on, I’ll make you some breakfast, can you play something for me while I cook?” He asked. Gabriel slowly did a single nod in response as Walter smiled joyfully, guiding him over to the piano in the living room. He lit a candle and set it on the table nearby to give him some extra light, the yellow gleam softly warming up the dreary room. Gabriel didn’t react when the chain was clasped onto his leg, he only sat with his head down and let him do whatever he pleased with him.

Walter held a pan as he made bacon and eggs, trying to cut the eggs into fun shapes. He couldn’t help but smile as music from the piano flowed through the cabin. This was just the best life~ The beautiful cabin, all the food he could cook, gorgeous music playing softly in the background, with his precious beautiful darling boy-

His thoughts were cut off when the music abruptly stopped, replaced with a loud slam of multiple keys struck at once. The music was replaced by hysterical sobbing as Walter bolted out of the kitchen, skidding into the living room to see Gabriel with his head hiding in his elbows collapsed onto the piano keys as he let out a heart-wrenching broken sob.

Walter was stuck frozen staring at Gabriel with wide eyes as the cabin was drowned in his sorrow. Gabriel couldn’t control himself anymore, the music was no longer enough to keep him grounded as his tears dripped onto the keys while his voice cried out with uncontrolled sobs.

Walter snapped out of his stunned phase as he grabbed him right off off the bench from behind and pulled him into his lap. Gabriel let out a wail as he was cradled in the man’s arms.

“Shh, sh shhh… Hush little one… You’re okay, everything is okay.” He shushed, cupping his cheek in the palm of his hand.

“... I w-want to go h-h-ome…!” Gabriel blubbered out between the sobs and sniffling. He could feel Walter sigh as he was held against his chest, squeezing one eye closed as he tried to thumb away his tears.

“You are home, Gabriel. You have a roof over your head, food on the table, the piano that you’re so talented with! You have me, someone who adores you, cares for you, and loves you. What more could I possibly give you?” He asked.

“No!” Gabriel shouted, shoving him away and crawling out of his lap. “You don’t love me! You don’t do this to someone you love! You took everything from me! You stole my freedom! You stole my life! You.... You stole me!” He shouted, more broken then angry.

“Gabriel! Don’t say that, that’s not true.” He said, his voice was hurt as he stood to his feet, Gabriel shuffling a few steps back at his sudden height.

“Everything I do is for you, Gabriel. This is all to keep you safe! Look at where you were before I brought you in, you were in a car crash! You were hurt and scared, you could have died!” He cried.

“No! I was happy! I still am hurt and I’m still scared! You belted me and shot a tracker in my neck!” He hissed, pointing at the band aid in his neck with a speck of blood soaked through.

Walter was silent as he tried desperately to think of a comeback.

“Well!... you’re not dead!”

Gabriel let out an agonizing groan in frustration as his hands pulled at his hair.

“Okay! Okay.” Walter shouted at him, his hands raised as he tried to calm him down. “Lets just go do something, let’s just.. Get out of the house today, okay?” He asked. Gabriel froze as his teary eyes stared at the floor blankly, trying to process what he was offering. “There’s a trail I used to walk on all the time, it’s beautiful.” He smiled, bending his body sideways until he could make eye contact with him.

“Will that make you happy?” He asked with a sweet hopeful smile. Gabriel's arms dropped from his hair limply to his sides as he dared a glance up. “Okay.” He mumbled, shutting his eyes as he wiped the rest of his tears away. Walter let out a relieved sigh. Gabriel looked like he was going crazy locked up in here for several days, maybe a peaceful walk on the trail would calm him down.

Walter quickly finished making breakfast and packed it in a woven picnic basket wrapped in colorful material. Gabriel sat silently waiting by the door with a neutral expression, which was quite a mood improvement. He didn’t look quite so miserable, exhausted or in pain, he was just ready for his walk.

Walter slung the basket around his arm as he extended his hand to Gabriel, who glanced at it, but didn’t take it. “Now Gabriel, I don’t want to kill the mood, but I need to trust you won’t run off on me.” Walter said, trying to keep his tone light and non-threatening. “Or else-” “-Or else you’ll track me, I know.” Gabriel grumbled, crossing his arms and swinging a leg over his knee. Walter closed his eyes with a sigh as he nodded in agreement. “Alright, I just needed to get that out of the way, come on now, I think you’ll really like the trail.” He smiled.

He took a coat and threw it over Gabriel's shoulders and zipped it up for him before he had a chance to do it himself. He wrapped a scarf around his neck and fiddled with it for some time before he was satisfied. “Is that comfortable?” He asked with a head tilt. Gabriel really wanted to say no out of spite, but he was desperate to get out of the house, so he just nodded his head.

Walter unlocked the countless locks on the door. The broken window by the door had boards nailed to the wall in an attempt to cover the shattered glass. Gabriel was quick to leap from the open door, the wooden porch creaking underneath his feet as he hopped down the stairs. “Stay with me, Gab!” Walter called, locking the door behind him as Gabriel let out an annoyed murmur.

Walter led him to a trail surrounded by trees and bushes on each side. It was a little bit cold, but the sun was just now shining and gave off some warmth that graced his face. He tried to ignore the crunching leaves from Walter walking beside him as he kept his face turned away from him, trying to imagine walking through the forest by himself.

“Gabriel! Look!” Walter called, taking his arm in his pointing over to a hill. At the top stood a proud fox, the orange fur lit up with a yellow highlight from the shining sunrise behind it. Gabriel's eyes shone bright as he watched the fox leap away with grace, Walter let out a heartfelt chuckle when he saw Gabriel's expression. This really was what he needed today.

What made the walk even better was Gabriel was so lost in thought he forgot to rip himself from Walters grasp when he took his arm. Walter's smile went from ear to ear as he held his arm with adoration as they walked continued down the trail. Gabriel perked up when running water could be heard in the distance. He glanced around curiously trying to find it.

“Hang on, we’re getting there.” Walter said, checking to make sure he was still bundled warm enough. They came to a large hill with water pouring down into a creek flowing through the forest. Over the creek was an old beautiful wooden bridge with an overhang with tables and chairs. Walter didn’t even look at it, he looked into Gabriel’s eyes that were wide as he took in every detail of the scene.

“I built this when I was younger. I had way too much time on my hands back then.” He chuckled.

“You still do.” Gabriel mumbled under his breath. He almost hoped he didn’t hear it, but the sound of Walter’s dying laughter said as much. “I was so proud of it, I spent all day, even some nights just chopping down wood, carving it. I had so much fun building it.” His voice trailed off as he was flooded with memories. “I just… I always wished I could have shared it with someone. When I finally put that last nail in, I had no one to tell. No one to share it with.” His voice was quiet with a rasp as he stared mindlessly at the beautiful scene in front of him.

‘B-but… Now I h-have you.” He sniffled. Gabriel made a double take as his eyes shot up. Was he… Was he crying?!

He was…

Walter sniffed as he quickly wiped his tears away. “I’m just really happy someone gets to enjoy it. At least I hope you do.” He muttered. He cleared his throat as he tried to quickly change the mood. “*Ehem!* Lets get seated before this breakfast gets any colder now, shall we?” He cheered as he took his arm and walked him onto the bridge.

Gabriel's stomach felt like it was torn and twisted in a knot, his heart felt heavy as his feelings were conflicted. He hated, hated this man, but he also couldn't help but to feel sorry for him.

Walter pulled a chair out for him and pushed him up to the table, setting the picnic basket down on the table and putting out a plate for each of them. They both got a healthy portion of bacon and eggs, Walter paused for a moment when he heard Gabriel crunching away on the bacon. He glanced over as Gabriel, for the first time, happily chomped into a bite without having to be threatened to eat first.

For some reason, the food tasted so much better out in the fresh air compared to the stuffy cabin. Walter kept shooting curious glances at Gabriel to make sure he was still enjoying himself and looked happy. After he finished the last bite of his bacon, Walter looked up at him and did a double glance when he realized Gabriel was sitting with his chin resting on his knuckles watching the waterfall with a small smile on his face.

@alien-octopus @yesthisiswhump @lave-whump @whumpasaurus101 @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @hamiltonwhumpdump @just-another-whumper @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @approach-me-and-ill-cry @whump-it @kixngiggles @as-a-matter-of-whump

ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ Thank you for reading!

#whump #whumpee #whumper #parental whumper #intimate whumper #overprotective whumper #possessive whumper #kind whumper #whump writing #whump stories #captive whumpee #whump angst #be a good guest

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nugnthopkns · 3 years

Text

dance me to the end of love (iii)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential percy jackson & the olympians spoilers, alcohol consumption, motion sickness and vomiting

series masterpost: here

a/n: this took me a hot sec to finish but here it is! there's a dumb little latin joke in here but that's just because i'm a nerd lmao

Ryan is certainly giving Bette a run for her money in the best friend department.

Magdalene has no intentions of usurping her best friend, but Ryan is quickly becoming the person she talks to most frequently. It started on social media but quickly moved to regular texting, both of them being twenty-five and capable of communicating through more normal channels. The text thread between them isn’t indicative of their newfound friendship – it looks like they’ve been friends since high school. At any given moment at least three conversations are going on, and Magdalene regularly sends him random updates throughout the day. Ryan likes hearing about any interesting artefacts she encounters at work so she keeps mental notes to tell him during their frequent phone calls.

Despite talking to him almost constantly, Magdalene hasn’t seen Ryan since they grabbed lunch at Barn Owl nearly two weeks ago. The lake house trip is a couple days out, and she’s been busy trying to get all her ducks in a row. At work, the current project is coming to an end and Magdalene will be sad to see it go – it’s the first thing she’s been on from start to finish. She’s got a neighbour coming to spend time with Caligula while she’s away so he doesn’t get too upset. Though the days are passing by in a haze as she tries to get ready, Magdalene is excited to get away for a little bit. It’s been a few years since she’s left Denver for more than a night, electing to skip on Bette’s previous vacation invites, and it will be nice to slow down. Life is moving at a comfortable pace, but having some time to pause and breathe will keep Magdalene from feeling too overwhelmed.

Halfway through her last day of work, Magdalene gets a text from Ryan that makes her nearly double over in laughter.

Julius Caesar walks into a bar and says to the bartender “I’ll have a Martinus please!” The bartender replies “Don’t you mean a Martini?” Caesar shakes his head and says “If I wanted double I would have said so.”

It takes her a minute to catch her breath, which piques June’s curiosity. Magdalene recites the joke and her boss rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but does let out a chuckle.

June didn’t think it was funny, but I did. Thank you for making today infinitely better. You riding with us tomorrow?

Magdalene tucks her phone back into her purse, determined to remain focused for the last few hours, and misses the reply telling her that Ryan won’t be riding with Bette, Tyson, and herself, but rather with Cale and his girlfriend to leave enough space for all the gear getting brought. She doesn’t see it until she’s walking across the parking lot to her car and it fills her with a sadness that doesn’t make much sense. He’ll be there for the entire week, so does it matter that he’ll be in a different car for the four hour drive? Magdalene has a sinking suspicion about why she’s upset, but she pushes it down. There’s no space in your life for a relationship right now, she reminds herself as she unlocks the door to her apartment. Caligula is waiting patiently at the door and distracts her thoughts from the handsome man with the kind smile that’s been all she can think about recently.

The cat is incredibly perceptive and knows the regular routine is going to change, making him particularly clingy. He follows Magdalene as she finishes packing, meowing and begging for pets, and she considers bailing on her friends. Caligula has mild separation anxiety and Magdalene doesn’t go away often partly because of it – though another reason is her homebody nature. Only the thought of seeing Ryan keeps her from hanging all her clothes back up.

“Don’t worry little boots,” she coos, “I won’t be gone long. Maria is going to check on you while I’m away, and I’ll be home before you know it.”

It seems ridiculous to speak to her pet as though it’s a child, but Magdalene knows Caligula comprehends what she’s saying. He’s always been smart, and the two of them share a bond that’s hard to explain. She picks him up, puts him in the pocket of her hoodie, and they spend the rest of the night packing and dancing along to the radio.

☼☼☼☼

Bette forgot to mention that the road to the lake house is winding, and Magdalene spends the entire ride with her head between her knees. Motion sickness is something that unfortunately plagues her during journeys longer than a couple of hours and she wishes she would have thought to take anti-nausea medication before leaving the house. Tyson tries to crack a joke about her being a bad passenger, but his girlfriend swats his arm and passes her friend a water bottle with a concerned smile. The two of them speak in hushed tones, almost certainly for Magdalene's benefit, and she does her best not to throw up on the floor of Tyson’s car. After what feels like two decades the vehicle rolls to a stop at the end of a gravel path.

“Mags, we’re here,” Bette says softly, praying that her friend will begin to feel better after stretching her legs and feeling firm ground underneath her.

There’s an unintelligible groan from Magdalene, but she rises out of the car and stumbles into the house. Tyson and Bette insist that she rest and they’ll handle the unloading of the car, so she crawls into one of the empty beds and falls asleep as soon as her head touches the pillow. It’s a dreamless slumber, one fuelled by the pure exhaustion of battling illness while travelling, and when she awakes hours later Magdalene feels oddly refreshed. Her energy level is still relatively low, but she knows that intaking food won’t be an issue.

Padding down the stairs as quiet as possible in an effort to not break the peaceful atmosphere, Magdalene is met with a quiet house. She’s utterly confused – she didn’t sleep long enough to miss dinner and judging by the way the sun is low in the final car full of people should be arriving any minute. For a moment she thinks the group left her in the mountains alone, but then the sound of a trunk closing breaks the silence.

“I fucking told you bro, you should have let me drive!”

Ryan’s voice echoes in Magdalene's ears and her heart skips a beat. She didn’t realize how much she had missed him or how excited she is to see him. Despite everything inside of her saying she should run into his arms Magdalene stays put in the kitchen, running the tap to get a glass of water. She focuses on the mountain on the other end of the lake, framing the setting sun and creating a postcard ready photo. The camera app on her phone is open and angles for the best shot are found. Ryan tumbles through the door a second later, arms filled to the brim with luggage and bags of food.

He drops them the second he sees her, running up behind her and lifting her off the ground. “Mags! Cale almost hit a deer!”

The shock of Ryan’s onslaught of affection catches her off guard, and Magdalene shakes her hand, forcing the picture to turn out as nothing but a blur.

“No hello?” She laughs as Ryan lets her feet touch down on the wooden floor. “It’s the least you could give me after destroying my chance of getting a National Geographic worthy picture.”

He smiles but doesn’t let his hands drop from their perch on her waist. “There’s six more days for you to nail it. I’ll even help if you ask.”

Other bodies enter the house then, causing Magdalene to slink away from Ryan’s touch even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. They’re simply friends, and she doesn’t want Bette to get any ideas. The last thing Magdalene needs on her plate right now is her best friend forcing her to paint a custom denim jacket with Ryan’s number across the back. “I can’t believe you almost hit a deer,” Tyson sighs in disbelief.

“It wasn’t even close,” Cale grumbles, picking up his bags and stomping off to find a place to claim as his own the next couple of days. A petite redhead follows after him, giving a small wave to those in the kitchen before scurrying away. When she asks, Ryan tells Magdalene the girl’s name is Livy, and that she’s Cale’s girlfriend from back home.

Everyone shrugs at his moodiness and disperses. Bette and Tyson stay in the kitchen to make dinner, Ryan goes to claim the final room, and Magdalene slips outside to sit on the patio furniture. The sun has dropped drastically in the past five minutes, causing the air to chill. She wraps her arms tighter around her legs and watches a pair of birds fly over the lake below. It’s so peaceful, a complete one-eighty from the insanity of her life in Denver, and Magdalene thinks about never leaving. She knows it’s impossible, but as she closes her eyes and listens to the quiet laughter of her friends inside the idea seems like a pretty good one.

The sliding door creaks open and Ryan goes through as quietly as possible. He tosses a sweater in Magdalene’s direction as he walks over, plopping down beside her on the small couch.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, slipping the fabric over her head. “I didn’t realize how cold it had actually gotten.”

He smiles in response and shuffles his body a little closer to create extra warmth. Magdalene leans into him, trying to appear casual even though her heart is beating rapidly, and pulls on the strings of the sweater Ryan gave her.

“So, are you excited for this week?”

It’s more awkward than she thought it would be – seeing him in person again, especially since they’ve been texting almost constantly, and the words kind of stick in her throat.

“Honestly? Now that I’m here I am, but I was a little leery about taking time off,” Ryan explains, detailing how he’s trying to improve some aspects of his two-way play and is worried his progress will plateau. Magdalene understands and shares her own worries about taking time off work even if her boss encouraged it.

After catching up quickly and running out of things to say, the pair of them sit in silence watching the sun set until they’re called inside for dinner. It’s nice to just exist, especially with Ryan beside her, and Magdalene feels her heart sink as they separate and he goes to make sure Cale isn’t actually mad at him.

☼☼☼☼

It storms the first two days at the lake house, forcing everyone to stay inside. Tyson complains about how he has less time to drive the boat that came with the property but the others take it in stride. Magdalene spends most of the time reading for pleasure, something she hasn’t been able to do much of the past few years, and Ryan joins her for large chunks of the time. It turns out that he too is an avid reader, and the two of them discuss their favourite novels and series while the other four play board games.

“So you’re telling me you wish Annabeth would have joined the Hunters of Artemis?” Magdalene shrieks in shock, almost knocking the wine out of her glass as her arms flail in disbelief.

“I think it made sense for her to,” Ryan defends.

“But she’s perfect for Percy!”

He sticks to his guns. “I’m not saying she isn’t. I just think that at the time the offer was presented it was the most logical choice. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about what would have happened if she did.”

She ducks her head in defeat because she had imagined it, on many occasions in fact. When reading the series for the first time in middle school Magdalene had desperately hoped Annabeth would choose the Hunters over Camp Half-Blood, gaining the family she herself never was privy to. They return to reading quietly beside each other, occasionally knocking elbows when trying to turn a page.

Tuesday brings sunshine and clear skies, which means Tyson is trying to corral everyone into the boat as soon as they’re up. Magdalene tries her hardest to get out of it but her pleas fall on deaf ears.

“You’ll be fine, stop being such a wimp,” Cale jests. She knows that he’s just anxious to soak up some sun, but the words hurt more than Magdalene would have liked them to.

Livy swats her boyfriend across the chest. “Enough! If she doesn’t want to come she doesn’t have to.” The smaller girl sends her a kind smile before speaking low enough that only Magdalene can hear her. “I know your book is just getting good and you look like the kind of person who needs alone time to function properly. Enjoy yourself.”

Seemingly excused from the day’s festivities, Magdalene gives a sheepish wave before climbing the small hill to the house. Ryan meets her halfway and is appalled when he hears of her plans.

“Nope, I don’t think so. You’re not leaving me alone to be the ultimate third wheel!”

He has her off the ground and over his shoulder in a millisecond, jogging lightly to catch up with the rest of the group. Magdalene’s laugh bounces off the tree lined shore, and she’s too busy having fun shrieking at Ryan to complain about being forced to spend all day on a boat away from her book. Tyson peels away from the dock before she can regret tagging along, and Bette tugs Magdalene to the bow.

The two girls chat quietly, giggling and sipping on the mimosas they made earlier. Magdalene isn’t a huge day drinker, but Bette makes sure there’s more orange juice than champagne to make her feel less guilty. Livy joins them a while later after becoming sick of the boys and their shenanigans. It’s nice to hang out with a group of girls that aren’t competing for the top spot in a class, Magdalene decides, and she revels in the stories they tell of going to hockey games and babysitting the children of players so they can catch a break. Twinges of jealousy creep up at the wonderful family dynamic the Avalanche seem to have, but she stomachs them. She reminds herself that other people deserve to have support systems and excuses herself from the conversation.

Magdalene slides into the free space beside Ryan, and without thinking he wraps an arm around her shoulder. It feels so natural that she wonders if it’s how he greets all his friends, but the looks of shock and Tyson and Cale’s faces say otherwise. After a bit more cruising they find a small bay to anchor in for a while. The sun had climbed to the middle of the sky and is unbearably warm, leaving everyone no choice but to jump into the water to cool off. Magdalene does her best to float peacefully a short distance away from the group but is somehow brought into a splashing war because the teams aren’t equal.

Eventually the constant barrage of water chills her to the bone, and Magdalene swims back to the boat. She watches from the sidelines and cheers for her old teammates with a towel wrapped snugly around her. Ryan breaks from the group too, insisting it isn’t fair to have teams on unequal strength. Once dry, he picks up the baseball cap he brought and places it delicately on Magdalene’s head.

“Your cheeks are starting to go pink and I don’t want you to burn,” he explains, passing her a bottle of sunscreen as well.

“Thanks Ry.”

They muse about the idyllic beauty of the scene in front of them until everyone rejoins them. For reasons unbeknownst to Magdalene Tyson is in a rush to get back to the house, which leads to him driving very fast and a little erratically. The contents of her stomach threaten to come up but she holds them down, tightening her grip on the leather seat. A wave crests and Tyson hits it head on, causing the boat to lurch and rock. Magdalene knows it’s going to happen before it does and leans over the side to save a mess from being created. All the alcohol and food she’d consumed throughout the day is no longer in her body, and heat creeps up the back of her neck. She’s embarrassed – what twenty-five year old gets sea sick?

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice.

She tries to smile but it comes out more like a grimace. “I just, uh, get motion sick really easily.” Bette passes her a water bottle and she drinks it quickly, eager to get the taste out of her mouth.

Ryan lets Magdalene curl into his side the rest of the way home, and rubs comforting circles on her back to ease her discomfort, doing his best to ignore the stares from his friends.

☼☼☼☼

The trip comes to an end much more quickly than Magdalene would have liked. Tomorrow morning they’ll pack up and drive back to Denver, returning to their normal hectic schedules. Cale and Livy are heading back to Alberta for the rest of the summer, and Bette and Tyson will be going for a visit as well. She’s heard Ryan mention going home in passing, which most likely means he doesn’t have plans to stay. Magdalene will be all alone in Colorado, but she’s used to it. The only issue being friends with professional athletes is that they leave. She’s been dealing with the loss since Bette and Tyson got together years ago – having them around as her support system most of the year and then them disappearing for a couple of months.

Not wanting to think about how soon she’ll be alone, Magdalene heads outside and starts a campfire. It’s a skill she picked up as a kid and it has come in handy over the years. The newspaper crinkles under the flame from the lighter, and soon the kindling is burning well. Everyone else is still inside, cleaning up from dinner and preparing for one last night in paradise. She places a few blocks of wood in the fire pit once there’s a good enough flame and curls up in a chair, lost in thought about what comes next. There’s rustling from somewhere behind her but she pays it no mind, assuming it’s a small animal wandering through the forest.

“Can I offer you some company?” a voice says softly, waiting for a response. The movement wasn’t a raccoon but in fact Ryan, and Magdalene gestures at the chair beside her with a smile.

He passes her a glass of white wine, which she takes with an appreciative hum. They sit in silence for a moment, admiring the beauty of the setting sun. “I’m going to miss it,” Ryan sighs, leaning back in his chair and extending his legs.

She nods. “Me too. It’s so quiet up here. Denver gets too loud sometimes.”

“Tell me about it. I’m not just going to miss the lake though, it’s also lounging around and not having to worry about hockey. And you.”

The ending comes out rushed, and Magdalene isn’t sure she heard him correctly. “Me?”

Ryan looks at her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes you. Why wouldn’t I? You’re funny, smart, and catch all of my West Wing references. There’s no one who gets me quite like you, even back home.”

It takes her by surprise. They’ve only known each other for a few months, and only really started associating after the party at Bette and Tyson’s. There has to be somebody who knows him better than she does. When she voices her opinion Ryan just scoffs, saying that people treat him as one-dimensional because he plays hockey. Somehow the conversation shifts to Magdalene, and when she lets it slip she gets lonely in Denver without her friends, Ryan asks the question she’s been dreading.

“So why don’t you get a boyfriend?”

“I can’t just get a boyfriend because my friends are gone,” she laughs, but there’s an edge to it, like she’s unsure of where this will go and how to question the follow ups.

He rolls his eyes. “I know that, but like, I don’t know, wouldn’t it be nice to not be alone all the time?”

It would be, Magdalene thinks, but she just shrugs. “I guess I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I just finished school and for the first time in a long time I can focus on myself.” She leaves out the part where Ryan gives her butterflies and that if he asked she’d probably jump headfirst into a relationship with him.

The topic is dropped then because Tyson comes out of the house screaming about the night is going to be wild because it’s their last together for a while. Magdalene and Ryan share a look of mild panic, but both of them are itching to have fun with friends so they raise their glasses in salute before finishing them in one gulp.

Magdalene drinks more than she should and wakes in the morning with a killer hangover. It seems that no one else is better off though, all stumbling around looking for Advil and coffee like it’s going to be their last meal. Packing up takes a bit longer than expected, but they’re still out before the official checkout time. There’s a bit of discourse on who Magdalene will travel home with. Bette wants her in Tyson’s car, no doubt to talk about how close her and Ryan seem to be, but Cale offers to bring her with them. His reasoning is that Ryan is driving him and Livy directly to the airport, and having the front seat could be good for her motion sickness. It’s ultimately Magdalene’s choice and the idea of having more time with Ryan before he leaves is too enticing to pass up. She bids her other friends goodbye, promising to come over for dinner before they fly out, and climbs into the cab of Cale’s truck.

Once again she’s a less than ideal passenger, but this time it’s because she sleeps the entire way back to Denver. The drinking took it out of her and coupled with the queasiness in her stomach from the winding roads sleep is the only thing that makes sense. So much for extra time with Ryan she thinks as she wakes up in the airport parking lot.

“Sleeping beauty has risen!” Ryan chuckles, “Why don’t you get out and stretch your legs for a sec? We have the parking spot for another fifteen minutes.”

Magdalene does as suggested because truthfully her joints are a little stiff, and finds Cale and Livy grabbing their bags from the back. She hugs them goodbye and wishes them safe travels, which Cale returns with a warning not to get into too much trouble before heading for the entrance. Once both of them are safely inside the confines of the airport, Ryan and Magdalene get back in the vehicle and finish the last leg of the trip.

She directs Ryan to her apartment complex, and he mentions that he’s never been in this area of the city. “That’s because you have no need to be around a bunch of university kids,” she laughs. Once they pull into the parking lot, he offers to help her take up her bag. It’s only a small suitcase Magdalene could definitely handle herself, but she wants him to come up, to prolong her time with him.

Magdalene’s keys jingle in the lock as the door opens. Ryan follows her in and shuts the door carefully, not wanting to disrupt the aura of peace that permeates the space. From what he can tell, the average size apartment is the perfect reflection of Magdalene – packed full of books and plants and feels very put together despite the owner being only twenty-five. After their shoes find a home on the boot rack and the coats they brought for the drive home are hung in the closet she leads Ryan into the living room. There’s a soft purring by his feet, and Ryan looks down to see an animal. He never pegged Magdalene as someone to keep pets.

“Who’s this?” he asks, bending down to pet the small white cat.

“That’s Caligula.”

A puzzled look graces Ryan’s features. “Who?”

“Caligula,” Madalene giggles. “You can call him little boots if you’d like. He’ll respond.” She picks up the animal when it comes to her and scratches gently behind its ear.

“Why would you name your cat something dumb like Caligula, and why does it respond to little boots?”

It’s then the woman realizes that not everyone understands the reference. “Caligula was the third emperor of Rome,” she explains, “But his real name was Gaius. He gained the nickname Caligula as a child and it just stuck. It translates to little boots in Latin.”

Ryan is in awe of Magdalene for what feels like the millionth time. Of course someone as smart as her would have a crazy name for a pet and have the knowledge to back it up. He feels his chest tighten with affection but he wills it away. She isn’t looking for anything right now, he reminds himself. Magdalene’s self-professed inability to reciprocate his feelings is frustrating, but Ryan knows he’d wait forever for her.

☼☼☼☼

additional notes: catch some extra content here!

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @ricohenrique @lovethepreds @cutiesara23 @hockeyallthetime @stlbluesbrat21 (add yourself to the taglist!)

#ryan graves imagine #ryan graves x oc #ryan graves fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #dmtteol

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writing-in-april · 4 years

Text

Star Wars vs. Star Trek

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

This is my entry for the secret fic swap that was organized by the ever amazing @imagining-in-the-margins

The person I got was- @sunlight-moonrise who is an amazing little bunny that I love

Thankies all around to my lovely helpers @definitelynotkatesblog , @clean-bands-dirty-stories and @httpnxtt Plus I was inspired by all the asks that @reidscardigan gets, it fuels my smutty thoughts!

Warnings: Jealous!Spencer, Rough sex, Impact play (on the heavy side), Face fucking, Light degradation, Choking, Bruising/Marking, Hair Pulling, Unprotected sex, and Orgasm Denial

A/N: I had a great time writing this I think its one of my best works! Feel free to drop a request in my inbox if you have a request (No duplicate requests please)

Word count: 3.6K

Masterlist

Spencer and I finally have some vacation time, and my god it feels like it’s been forever. We both worked ridiculously hard at the BAU, so Hotch had finally determined that it was time for the team’s mandatory two-week break this year.

As soon as we got home the both of us stripped of our work clothes and cuddled up on the couch to watch some movies. Spencer had the remote in his hand scrolling through to find a movie, the cursor landed on Star Trek. I could feel his puppy dog eyes looking up at me through his glasses that he only wore at home trying to convince me into letting him choose it. “Noooo Spencer, we watched it last week” I groaned. Sometimes it felt like your relationship was Spencer and Spock, and you as the delightful third wheel. “Ok what about a different one? We don’t have to watch any of the vintage ones, the new movies aren’t my favorite but they’re still extraordinary pieces of film art!” he ranted enthusiastically. “No, why don’t we watch Star Wars?” I begged, he knew it was my favorite but still insisted that Star Trek was better. “No, because I know you’ll ask to watch the sequels and I don’t like them, the story is just a repeat of the originals.” his eyes rolled and I was surprised they didn’t get stuck in the back of his head. Spencer and I have had this argument many times. The back and forth on which series was better was exhausting but so exhilarating. “Star Wars looks better, has better music, and better plot lines overall!” My voice slightly raised, I hated it when he tried to prove me wrong about this. Star Wars was my cemented favorite just as his was Star Trek. “Star Wars has straight up inaccuracies while Star Trek has improbabilities, not outright errors.” Spencer snarked back. I could tell neither of us were going to win this debate anytime soon. We always ended up in a shouting match about why we thought our favorite series was better. “Fuck you! I’m right, Star Wars is so much better! I mean look at Kylo Ren, he’s so much better then Kirk or Spock!” Spencer’s face turned into an expression mixed with jealousy and rage. “And look how good he looks during that interrogation scene!” I continued. “You think he’s hot?!” He accused profiling the look I had on my face as I was talking about Kylo “What are you jealous of a fictional character?” I asked mockingly, a knowing smirk adorning my face. Maybe I could get him riled up enough to get something else out of tonight. “N-no of course not that’s absurd!” He squeaked out, giving away how he truly felt. A coquettish smirk grew on my face as I got an evil idea. I deftly snuck my hands into my sleep shorts, slipping under my cotton panties and started to rub soft circles on my clit, not fully giving myself the stimulation that I desired. Spencer’s eyes bugged out of his head getting whiplash from the conversation switch. “Kylo” I moaned out with a simper, gathering my slick arousal I slid down my folds, pushing a finger inside, immediately crooking the digit to locate my g spot. I wanted to push Spencer to the edge of jealousy till he snapped. He got practically feral if I worked him up enough. I continued my descent into a selfish climax- adding another finger, as I picked up the speed of my thrusts into my dripping heat. My mind was so lost in the pleasure I forgot Spencer was there- until my hand was violently jerked from my pussy by a tight clasp on my forearm, just before I was about to fall into bliss. “What do you think you're doing?” Spencer spat.

That voice was usually reserved for unsubs, which served to further dampen my panties, his mind had switched into his dominant persona that was prevalent in the bedroom. “Just indulging myself, Spencer, since you won’t.” I bit back, irritated I’d been brought back from the edge of toe-curling bliss. He shot me a harsh look and tightened his grip on my arm, a warning if you will. I could tell I had just gotten myself into deep trouble, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to rile him up further. “Get in the bedroom and strip. You’ve earned yourself a punishment, brat.” His tone had gotten down right deadly at this point, but I didn’t let that deter me. I was on a mission. I decided to further dig myself in a hole by ignoring his order, simply crossing my arms and turning my head away. I could feel his bitter gaze boring into the back of my skull as I continued to defy his order, my excitement pooling in anticipation for the brutal punishment I’d surely earned. We sat like that for a while- refusing to break out of my sass, and him making sure that I was really ready for what he had in store for me. My legs started to squirm, the tension was almost unbearable. Just before I was about to give him another smart remark his other hand shot out to my leg, holding it firmly so I was no longer moving. A surprised squeak escaped my lips as Spencer flipped me onto my stomach, my knees coming to rest on the floor and my chest pressed into the couch. I tried to regain my balance in an attempt to crawl away from him but he quickly moved to hover over my form, boxing me in with his arms. “Are you trying to get in more trouble, Dolly?” he asked, his tone dark and condescending. A pathetic little whimper escaped my throat. When I failed to reply quick enough by his standards, a large palm came down on my backside, forcing an answer out of me.

“Yes! I’m sorry Sir, I was trying to get in t-trouble.” “Tsk tsk. Only bad girls like punishment, Doll.” He sounded disappointed. I dug my nails into the plush and hid my face into the cushion, trying to escape from under his heavy gaze. He pulled my hands to rest behind my back, tying my hands with what felt like a drawstring from sweatpants. He’d learned to improvise during our time together; had he left to find more appropriate rope, there was no guarantee I’d be in the same position he left me in by the time he got back. He snaked his hands through my hair, yanking hard to pull my body flush against his own. “Color?” He asked quickly, checking in with me, which only made the situation hotter-what can I say? Consent is sexy. “Green” I replied with a grin. Being disciplined was always exhilarating. “What’s my punishment, Sir?” He let go of the grip on my hair, his hands swiftly moving to remove my shorts and now soaked cotton thong, revealing my bare bottom to him. I rubbed my legs together trying to get some sort of friction but was interrupted by Spencer wrenching my legs apart. “You do that again I’ll add 20 more and you’ve already earned yourself 40- plus a little extra something.” His words hummed against the shell of my ear, sending a shiver trickling down my spine. I groaned in protest and tried to wiggle myself away from him, his hand coming down onto my left cheek in response. “Doll-“ He warned sharply. “If you keep this up I won't let you cum for a week.” His words shook me to my sassy core; I was greedy and there was no way I was going to get myself in more trouble. “I’m sorry...” I muttered into the couch cushion. “Say it louder, Dolly.” The sing song tone/cadence of his voice felt like a trap- contrasted to his previously dark tone and warning smack brought down on my backside. “I’m really sorry, Sir!” I shouted. With my cry, I gave up control to Spencer entirely. He loved when I acted like this, no matter how angry he pretended to be. “Do you mean it this time?” I could hear the devilish smile on his lips. “Yes!” I confirmed on a shaky breath. I was done fighting him. “You’re so good to me a-and I shouldn’t have tried to make you jealous.”

Although he couldn’t see my eyes, I put on my biggest, sweetest set of puppy dog eyes to really drive my point home.

“So you’re going to sit pretty and take your spankings like a good girl, right?”

I nodded sheepishly, secretly hoping that maybe, just maybe if I was good enough that I might get to come tonight. He let me stew in my thoughts for a minute before resuming his assault on my behind. His hand gripped both cheeks into his palms, kneading the tender flesh that was about to be covered in black and blue handprints. As the first strikes landed on my right side, he grabbed a blanket for me to cuddle into as he landed each smack, his full strength being used in each one, exhibiting just how much I pissed him off. My nerves were prickling, my ass had already started to sting and he hadn’t even reached the 10th strike. I’d definitely be able to feel the pain for the next week- maybe longer. Teardrops started to coat from my lashes onto my cheeks as he switched to the left cheek. By the time he’d reached the halfway mark, the blanket had become soaked by my uncontrolled muffled sobs. His rhythm never faltered as he continued to pepper the now-raw skin of my bottom with more punishing blows. “What are you?” He finally spoke as he was nearing the end of his count, my fingers digging into my palms to help me get through the last few. “I’m a bad girl, Sir” I pathetically whimpered into the blanket.

A brutal THWACK landed against my backside, letting me know he was looking for me to use my big girl voice. A sob raked through my chest, sending more tears down the blushed apples of my cheeks. “I’M A BAD GIRL, SIR!” My bruised bottom felt like it had been burned by hot coals with welts forming as evidence, as Spencer drew out the last few at a languid pace. When he finally finished, he dropped his head down to plant kisses on each injured cheek, a sign of appreciation for behaving. “You dirty girl, you're getting off to this ” He said matter of factly, moving to run his finger through my drenched folds, his fingers probed my entrance trying to get me more worked up. Surging forward, he replaced his fingertips with his tongue stirring a fire deep in my belly, placing delicate kitten licks along my folds. My body writhed against his touch and for a moment, I thought I might get off easy. Until, again, he pulled away just as I was about to shatter into a million pieces. “Sirrrrr, please?” I begged, my clit was throbbing in tandem with the blood pounding under the skin of my raw and tender bottom. His threat from earlier became evident- he wasn’t going to let me cum easily. “No, Doll, you still haven’t proven that you’re sorry enough.” He roughly yanked me off the sofa, positioning me on my knees in front of him, his clothed cock sitting right in my eye-line. The sweatpants that he had dawned were taken off quickly, I drank in the sight of his hard cock through tear-stained eyes. “Color?” He asked while cradling my jaw. The realization hit me, and I became blissfully aware of one thing: he was about to fuck my face. “Green.” I was always happy to give Spencer pleasure, and to see all the power just my mouth had over him was insanely erotic to me. He gripped his cock in one hand, pulling my chin down to open my mouth with the other. I stuck out my tongue for him and leaned forward, wrapping my lips around the head of his erection to begin gently sucking. Precum filled my mouth as I started to bob my head, working my way farther down his length each time until I reached the base of his cock. I choked slightly, my nose nuzzling against the hairs of his waistline. He gripped my hair on both sides with each of his hands and did a shallow experimental thrust forward, giving me a taste of what was coming. My eyes screwed shut as he set a fast pace, his tip hitting the back of my throat, tears starting to prick at the corners of my eyes again. The hardwood grinding against my knees sourced a new pain, but all I was focused on was the cock being shoved down my throat and pleasuring the man it was attached to. “Open your eyes, Doll. I want you to see what you do to me.” I glanced up with my glassy red rimmed eyes to gaze at the beautiful sight of Spencer, his head was tilted back, sweat coating his ruffled curls, with his mouth hung open in a silent gasp. Even through my tears I could see this man was an angel. I groaned, somehow I was even more turned on, so much so that I could feel a pool forming on the floor from my arousal. He rutted harder into my mouth signaling that he was close to his release, drool was now dripping from the sides of my mouth, wetting the thin material of my pajama top. Hot spurts shot down my throat with a strangled cry from him. Tasting his salty release on my tongue, I drank him in, savoring every last drop he had to give me. As he pulled himself out of my mouth, the string of spit connecting my lips to the head of his cock snapped, falling down my chin. Saltwater still cascading down my cheeks met with the mess on my chin, creating a messy mixture. Spencer pressed a thumb to my cheek, pushing the few drops of cum that escaped along with some spit into my mouth. “You being a cry baby, Dolly?” he cooed condescendingly, wiping away the drops that accumulated onto my cheek bones as I sent him a little pout. “You should’ve thought about the consequences before you broke the rules, Doll.” Turning me around, he pressed my chest into the coffee table across from the couch. Though I still had on my shirt, the cold surfaces rubbed against my sensitive nipples making them harden to a peak. He hadn’t done anything for a minute, so I tried to turn my head to see what he was doing. I was met with a harsh tug at my jaw forcing it to prop up facing the tv. The television flicked to life flooding the screen with the Disney+ logo I tried to glance back again to shoot him an incredulous look, but again I was repositioned roughly to stare at the screen. He clicked through until landing on the Force Awakens. My brows furrowed, but I decided not to push my luck by asking any questions. He pressed play and started fast forwarding until he landed on the scene I had been referencing that got in me trouble in the first place. Kylo Ren graced the screen, starting his interrogation with Rey. Was he going to sit here and make me watch it? Was he going to let me cum? Or was he going to edge me the whole night and hang me out to dry? I was snapped out of my thoughts by a tug at my neck, his palms wrapping around like a necklace, pulling my torso up so that my eyes locked perfectly to the moving figures on the screen. “You think he could fuck you better then I can, Doll?” he ground out. “That pathetic boy compensates with his saber, yet you have the whole package right here sweetheart.” I gasped and wriggled at his words, becoming down right desperate to have him do anything to me. He finally relented, dragging his free hand up my folds, still just barely touching me- ghosting around my clit. He sucked dark bruises into my neck, and as his teasing touches continued, I impatiently whined. “Please, Sir I need you.” “Why should I? You have Kylo don’t you?” “I already said I’m sorry, Sir! And I mean it really!” My begs filled our apartment, loud enough to completely mask the sound of the movie. I had been completely ignoring the film, focusing solely on trying to gain some sort of pleasure from the man endlessly denying it. “Ok, Dolly but only if you promise to never do it again.” I tried my best to nod against his vise grip on the column of my throat. He deftly snuck two fingers into my pussy, fitting snugly inside of me causing my body to unconsciously move my lower half against him. He started to pump and curl them, expertly hitting the perfect spot each time making stars appear behind my eyes. Suddenly he removed his fingers, quickly replacing it with something far more satisfying before I could complain. His cock bottomed out, filling me to the hilt eliciting a surprised squeak from me. He always made me feel so full-it felt like heaven. His hips propelled forward starting a rough rhythm that left almost no room to breathe, the movie had been completely muffled by our moans and sounds of slapping skin, a heavy dose of sex lingering in the air. His thrusts were irritating the already brutalized flesh off my ass, but the stinging sensation just aided in ecstasy that flowed through my veins. “You look so much prettier with these bruises.” He grunted as I tried to arch my back to a steeper angle so I could take him as deep as possible. “It shows everyone who’s mine, even if they are a fictional character.” Spencer was repeatedly hitting my g spot sending me closer and closer to the edge, but I knew I had to ask permission before I came. “Please, Sir, Please! I’m so close! Can I cum?” “Why do you think you deserve to cum Doll?” He asked, I should’ve known he was still going to throw one last tease in before letting me orgasm. “Because- I - I don’t know I just need it!” I let out a frustrated sob as he continued to thrust with reckless abandon. “Ok. Doll. Let. Go.” he said, accentuating each word with a sharp rock with his hips. My eyes rolled far into the back of my head as I was sent careening into pleasure, the coil that sat deep in my belly snapped, sending me into violent waves of pleasure. As I rode out my delicious high, Spencer’s hips stuttered and the grip on my neck was tightened as he shot ropes into me, stuffing me to the brim. He let go of my neck letting me relax my head onto the table. I’m sure I had a messy, freshly-fucked look on my face but I couldn’t be bothered to care.“Have you learned your lesson?” He asked once he had caught his breath. I nodded meekly, knowing full well I’d be back on my brattiest behavior as soon as these bruises faded. We both groaned as he slipped his softening cock from out of my folds. He slowly padded away to grab his items for aftercare-my favorite part. I had never had a partner show so much care for me like Spencer had. He came back with everything he needed and got to work, starting by cleaning my folds with a washcloth, then switching to a fresh one wiping the tears and spit away from my face. Aloe that he had made sure to warm up was then squirted onto my cheeks, he rubbed the liquid in softly massaging the abused flesh with gentle care. My limbs still felt like jello when it was time to stand, so Spencer helped guide me into new clean pajamas, he even made sure to pick out the velvet ones I liked, they always felt like little soft caresses were being peppered against my skin when I wore them. “You ok, Doll? You haven’t said anything.” He whispered gently, as if afraid he’d startle me. “Yeah” I croaked.My voice had been thoroughly abused throughout the night making rasp harder than normal. “Just feel a little woozier than normal.” He quickly enveloped my form into a hug, drawing me in close so I could smell the cologne that made itself a part of everything he owned. Sitting us both down on the couch, he found as many blankets and as possible making a little fort of warmth around us.

“I’m sorry I was harsh, Doll.” “No no, I liked it, it was just intense.” My scratchy voice obviously made him cringe. “So you are jealous of a fictional character?” I cheekily quipped to try and cheer him up. He let out a chuckle in response and started to ghost little butterfly kisses all across my face.

“I love you,” he whispered between kisses. “Sing to me?” I asked softly. I cherished his horrible singing with all my heart, it made me soft and mushy on the inside. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey. You’ll never know dear how much I love you, please don’t take my dolly away.” I started to drift to sleep even though I was fighting to giggle at Spencer’s croaky singing. Despite his god awful singing in my ear, sleep found me, whisking me away to the land of sweet dreams. I drifted off in his arms, knowing I was his good girl- knowing he would love and cherish me until the ends of the Earth.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut #Smut #fluff #aftercare #spencer reid fluff #comfort #criminal minds fanfiction

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myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants · 3 years

Note

Or Red Lilly with Iida 👀

Thank you so much for sending an ask! Sorry this took me forever but i hope you like it!!

Red Lily (Passion) with Tenya Iida

Warnings: MeanDom/Tenya Iida, SubFem/Reader, impact play, handcuffs, use of “sir, good girl”, oral sex (fem receiving) consent check, orgasm denial, degradation, vaginal fingering, no condom, d*cryphilia.

Also big shoutout to @doinmybesthere @patchworkpuzzle @eyebagsbutglam for helping me out!! I love all of you!!

The first time Iida found out that you sleep without clothes he gave you a two-hour lecture.

“What if there was a fire and you needed to evacuate immediately? What if someone broke in? What if you sleep walk and get out of your apartment? What if- “

“Tenya!” You grab his arms, concerned that they are going to fall off with how aggressively he was chopping them. “I understand that you are just trying to help, but I am comfortable sleeping like that. Could you please respect that?”

He looks down for a moment, the sun glare on his glasses making it impossible to see his eyes. When his shoulders drop, and he visibly relaxes you know he has calmed down. “I am sorry my dear, you’re right. It is important that you are comfortable.” He kisses your cheek. “Let’s go to bed now.”

Two years later

Iida was done, done with the day, done with people, done. Done. DONE.

He was late to the agency because of a villain backup that he couldn’t help with. When he finally ended up getting to the agency, he had to calm down several interns because number one hero Deku had stopped by. One of his engines went out because a villain on his patrol was able to get some sort of substance in his exhaust. This meant he had to go to Mei Hatsume because she was one of the few who could fix it. She tricked him into activating a “baby” of hers that exploded effectively covering his entire hero suit in ash and soot.

Numerous other things happened through out the day that soured his mood even further. The last thing was him getting home late, not 30 mins, not 1 hour, but 4 hours late. He had to take his hero suit to be cleaned and ended up taking a shower at the agency. All he wanted to do was go to bed with you.

Iida sets his stuff down by the door and removes his shoes. Walking carefully, so as to not wake you he opens the bedroom door and glances at your shared bed.

Iida’s breathing stops for a moment, the sight of you making his heart skip a beat. Laying on your side, one of your hands laying on his pillow; the blanket between your legs. Moonlight peaks through the curtains, bathing your naked form in a soft light that makes you glow.

As he shuts the door, he can feel his pants getting uncomfortably tight. You are so beautiful and what better way to ease the stress of a horrible day than to bury himself in your tight heat.

He walks up to the bed, reaching out to caress your face with his knuckles. Your eyes slowly open hazy, and unfocused from sleep, eyelids fluttering. “Mhm… Tenya?” A soft smile appears on your face and you grab his hand, turning your head to kiss it.

“Sorry I woke you darling, why don’t you go back to sleep?” Iida feels guilty, waking you up just to have sex with you. He moves to pull his hand back but you clutch it tight, he looks at you, raising his brow in question.

You push yourself up with one hand and sit on your knees in front of him, still holding his hand. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes you take a quick moment to stretch, arching your back and lifting your arms up in the air. You hear Iida suck in a breath and open your eyes with a smirk.

“Now why would I go to sleep when you clearly need some help turbo.” You lower the hand not holding his and graze your fingers over the obvious bulge in his slacks.

Iida shudders when you touch him but doesn’t react any further, more worried about your sleep schedule. “Don’t worry about me love, nothing I can’t take care of on my Ohh.” His sentence gets cut of when you give him a squeeze through his pants. His forehead pressing against yours you can hear his breathing getting heavy.

“Don’t worry about me love.” You repeat his words back to him. “Nothing we can’t handle together.” You place his hand that you were still holding on one of your breasts and grab the bottom of his shirt. As you pull it up, he reluctantly lets go of your warm chest and takes his shirt off throwing it behind him. You are already unbuttoning his pants before he throws his shirt and as you work to pull them down, he grabs your hands.

“Let me do this okay? Can you lay down for me? I want to look at you.” His eyes pleading, his face weary and tired you can’t help but abide by his wishes.

You lay back down on the bed, your legs bent at the knees resting to the side. Your hair is splayed out on the pillow a hand on your chest the other to your side resting with the palm up. Iida doesn’t move for a moment, entranced by the goddess in front of him. It’s only when you say his name on a breath that he remembers what he was supposed to be doing.

He undresses in a flash, quick and efficient his clothing forgotten in a pile next to the bed. Now its your turn to admire your partner. His dark blue eyes, chiseled jaw, and wide breadth of his shoulders. Iida worked hard to maintain his physique for hero work, and it showed in the way his muscles flexed as he moved to hover over you.

You both look at each other for a moment longer before Iida leans down to kiss you slow and deep. His lips melding with yours, his tongue meeting yours in a soft caress. You reach your hands to cup his face, but he grabs your wrists and pins them above you.

When he breaks the kiss, you can’t help but whine, arching your back and lifting your head to meet his lips once more. “Y/N.”

The authority in his tone makes you shiver in delight and submission. You lay back down on the bed, once again resting your head on the pillow as you look at his innocently. “Yes Tenya?”

His eyes darken further, almost black in the light. The hand not holding your wrists softly moves up from your hips to your breast. You sigh in contentment until his large fingers pinch one of your nipples and you yelp.

“Now dearest, I understand that you just woke up however – “He pulls on the nipple and you whimper, your eyes starting to water a sadistic smirk crawling up his face. “– I do believe you know better than to address me like that.”

“S-sorry, Sir. I’ll be good, I promise.”

He waits a moment after your answer then lets go of your nipple, rubbing soothing circles over it with his thumb. “That’s better. Now, I’m gonna handcuff you and you are going to keep your eyes shut understood?”

You nod your head before closing your eyes. “Yes sir, understood.”

You feel him shift on the bed and hear a drawer open before the sound of metal clinking together fills your ears. You fidget in anticipation before a sharp pain blooms on your breast. You cry out when Iida slaps you but keep your eyes shut, not wanting to anger him further.

“I thought you said you would be good for me dear. That also means staying still.” Iida lets go of your wrists locking one of them in the cuff before wrapping the chain on the reinforced hook he installed on the bed. Before he cuffs the other wrist, he softly grabs your chin and tilts your face up.

“Y/N, open your eyes for a moment darling.” When you do your eyes immediately connect with his, no longer dark with lust but softly filled with tender love and concern. “You ready for this? Let me know if you are too tired, we can stop.”

You shake your head and give him a soft smile. “I’m ready Tenya, I need you too.”

“Tell me the safe word.”

“Axel”

He kisses your nose, eyes quickly darkening again. “Good girl.”

Before he can ask you to shut your eyes again you do and lay still. “Thank you, sir.” You feel him shift again and you other hand is cuffed; he pulls on the chain to make sure its secure and double checks that the cuffs aren’t too tight.

When you feel the bed shift you know he crawled off of it. You try to listen, to hear any sound that lets you know what is going to happen next but there is only silence.

All of a sudden you feel to large palms on your thighs, giving them a squeeze before pulling them apart.

“Such a perfect pussy.” Iida lightly drags his nails down your legs, a breathy moan escaping your lips. “Look at you, such a good girl for Sir.” You feel a breath of air, the slick of your arousal on your cunt and thighs going cold.

It’s difficult, holding yourself still but the feeling of his large hands on your body keeps you submissive. His hands on your body, however, do not help with the anticipation. Iida isn’t moving, you can almost feel his eyes on your core but no movement, no dipping of the bed or shifting of his hands.

You whimper, trying to relay your need for touch you finally feel the bed move under his weight. “Are you trying to tell me something dear?”

You almost open your eyes, needing to show him just how bad you need his touch, but you don’t. “Please, sir. Please touch me, I-I need you.”

Silence, and then Iida slaps your pussy. You can’t help but arch your back and yelp, eliciting another slap from your lover for moving.

“I don’t remember this being about you. I vividly recall you saying that we were helping me.” Iida wrenches your legs apart father before shoving his face into your cunt, he licks a broad stripe up from your tight hole to your clit before biting to little nub.

“Ahhh! I’m sorry! I’m sorry sir you’re right!” You can feel the tears escape past your eyelids and Iida huffs before biting the inside of one of your thighs.

“Of course, I’m right now you will lay there and be obedient or I will punish you as I see fit.”

“Yes, sir.”

Iida kisses the mark he left on your thigh and continues kissing and biting until he gets to your core. “Fuck you look so good- “He licks you again, humming as your taste blooms on his tongue. “– taste good too.” He continues his ministrations, alternating between biting your thighs and licking at your sex. You can feel the faint tightening of your core, but he isn’t licking hard enough, not giving you enough attention for the feeling to build.

Iida relishes all the little whimpers and moans that escape your mouth. He can tell you’re getting frustrated with the lack of stimulation but like a good girl you are following his orders. After he has decided you deserve a reward, he slots his mouth over our cunt and starts dipping his tongue in and out of your slit.

The needy moan you let out at finally feeling something has his cock twitching. As you strain against the hand cuffs, resisting the urge to grind against his face Iida wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you impossibly closer.

You choke out a sob when he moves his mouth up to lick shapes onto your clit and gently suck it. He hums against you and the extra stimulation has you crying.

“Please S-sir, I’m m’gonna cum. Can I please cum?” Your thighs are shaking but you’re too focused on holding your orgasm back to care.

Iida thinks about it for a moment, slowing down his movements just to hear the frustrated cry from your mouth. He backs away from you for a moment, chuckling at your frustration.

“I don’t believe you’ve earned the right to do that yet.” He leans down to give you one last swipe of your tongue before sitting up.

The tears fall in earnest now, your need for release clouding your mind. “N-no, please sir I’m – I’ve been a good girl! Please sir I- “You let out a wail when Iida slaps the inside of your thigh.

“Are you such a needy slut that you can’t even follow orders?” He slaps your other thigh and growls when you don’t answer. He adjusts his position until he is at your side, wrapping an arm around your torso to pinch at one of your nipples before running his whole palm down your aching cunt. “Do you like it when I punish you? Is that it?”

You finally calm down enough to shake your head. “N-no, I don’t like it s-sir.” You are still crying, the tears running down your cheeks and wetting the pillow beneath you.

“I think your lying to me, because every time I hit you.” Iida lifts his hand up and slaps your clit, his fingertips rough from hero work. “You look like you enjoy it slut.”

You can’t help it when you feel the sharp pain on your clit you moan, the feeling slowly fading into pleasure.

“I told you, you like the pain, don’t you? My naughty little pain slut.” He hits your clit again twice in quick succession. “Do you want to be a good girl for me?”

You nod your head, tilting it to the side to rest on his shoulder. “Y-yes, I wanna be a good girl sir.”

He kisses your forehead. “If you can cum just from me slapping your clit then I’ll reward you with my cock yeah?”

“Yes sir!” You force your body to relax, knowing you’re your too tense the pain won’t give way to pleasure.

As Iida repeatedly slaps your clit you can’t help but utter a jumbled mess of words.

Yes sir…. thank you, sir, …. feels s’good…. m’close…please ..... harder ….

When you finally cum you back arches completely off the bed, your mouth open on a silent scream as tears pour down your face.

Iida lays there for a moment, watching as you come undone, he almost finishes right then and there. Before you can catch your breath, he is crawling on top of you and pushing your legs to your chest. He shoves two fingers in your hole scissoring them to open you up before he puts his cock in.

You only have enough energy to moan as he fingers you, your eyes shut from exhaustion instead of obedience.

Iida is intently watching his fingers move in and out of you, clearly you don’t have any control over your body anymore and yet your cunt still pulls his fingers in. When he pulls his fingers out, he shoves them in your mouth, without even a thought your sucking on them to clean them off.

“Good girl.” He lines himself up and thrusts into your cunt, balls deep in one go. No letting you adjust to his size he is now just after his own release.

It doesn’t take long for him to finish; he was already close to coming when he was slapping you. The sounds coming from your mouth and the tears streaming down your face, he will never get tired of it. Right as he is on the edge of cumming he feels your walls start to tighten again, he holds back just long enough so that your orgasm hits and you milk his cock for all its worth.

Iida stays like that for a moment holding your legs and enjoying the post orgasmic bliss until you let out a little whimper. He gently pulls himself out of your abused hole, wincing when he hears a small groan fall from your lips.

After he puts your legs down, he leans over and cups one of your cheeks and kisses your forehead. “You did such a good job my dear, I will be right back to clean you up.” Iida stays there until you give him a nod and gets off the bed without jostling you and heads into the bathroom. When he comes back, he has a warm washcloth and with a light touch he wipes the insides of your thighs and your slick folds.

You still haven’t said anything, but he knows you like the back of his hand and doesn’t push. “Let’s take a shower love, need to clean you up.” Iida takes your cuffs off and rubs your wrists you slowly open your eyes and focus on his face. He smiles down at you and kisses your nose. “I love you dearest.”

“And I you Tenya.”

#tenya lida #tenya iida x reader #tenya x y/n #iida x y/n #iida tenya #iida tenya x y/n #bnha x y/n #mha x y/n #tenya x reader #iida x reader #lilliths follower event #lilliths masterlist #lilliths 100 #lilliths 100 follower event #lillith masterlist #lillith writes #lilliths writing

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saxxxology · 3 years

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Freedom | oneshot

PAIRING: Sam Winchester x Reader WORD COUNT: 2,446 WARNINGS: spoilers for “Inherit the Earth,” character death, drinking to cope, minor trauma processing, smut, post-sex feels, stress/anxiety NOTE: This fic is set post 15x19 - “Inherit the Earth.” Do not save or repost my work without my consent. This work is 18+ only.

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“So we’re free.”

Sam glances up, casting his eyes over the rim of his beer bottle to where you’re perched on the edge of the counter. Legs slightly parted under the hem of your knee-length nightshirt, back slouched, eyes boring into him like you can see right through his skin and into his soul.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Chuck’s gone, Jack’s… doin’ his thing, I guess. There’s nobody calling the shots for us anymore.”

You hum, tipping back your bottle of vodka to take a long swallow. The clear alcohol burns your throat, and you let out a sigh that turns warm in your chest. “Where’s Dean?”

“Holed up in his room.” Sam swipes his tongue over his teeth. “He hasn’t really been able to process Cas, I figured we could give him a few days.”

“Yeah.” You swallow thickly and raise the bottle to your lips again. “Fuckin’ Cas, man.”

“I know.” Sam chuckles. “He was one of the good ones.”

You nod in agreement. “I’ll second that.”

There’s a long silence, interrupted only by the dull clink of glass on metal, the swish of liquid in an almost-empty glass, and a repetitive shuffle of paper as Sam flips absentmindedly through a two-day-old newspaper.

“How are you?” you ask, eager to break the quiet. Sam’s eyes flicker up to you once again, and you shift a little on the counter. “I’m just asking because you haven’t said much since we got back.”

Sam tightens his lips and takes a deep breath. “I don’t know, really. I feel numb. Like, I don’t know if it just hasn’t hit yet, but… yeah, I feel numb.” He rolls his shoulders back and downs the rest of his beer in a single swallow.

“Same here.” You sniff, screwing the cap back onto the tall vodka bottle and setting it aside. “I’m so tired of it. Dean said Cas died and I felt nothing.”

“You’re in shock,” Sam excuses, “and we’ve been dealing with so much shit, we can’t process all of it at once. Cas deserves to be… he deserves for us to grieve for him, without thinking about anything else.”

You chew on your lower lip, surveying him as he rubs his forehead with one hand. He’s tense, the relief of having Chuck gone only half-there. All three of you are used to things being too good to be true, only for shit to hit the fan right after you’ve booked a beach vacation or a weekend in Vegas.

But hell, you deserve to take a little bit of this newfound freedom for granted. Besides, it’s been a while since you had the time or energy to get laid. Sam’s hot, you’re needy… one night of not considering fallout from anything might be nice.

“Sam?”

“Hmm?”

You take a quick breath, leaning back to brace one hand just behind your hip. “If I asked you to fuck me, would you?”

He stiffens, unable to keep his gaze from drifting over to you. He looks beat; tired and lost and just a little scared of the world. For a second you regret asking, thinking he might just say no and get to blame it all on the alcohol.

“I…” he blows air through his lips as pink stains his cheeks. “Are you drunk?”

“Not really.” You speak a little too soon, as your focus begins to drift and you blink twice to clear your vision. “Well, maybe not enough.”

“No, don’t drink any more.” Sam stands up, abandoning his empty bottle on the table as he shuffles over to you. The toes of his boots drag on the polished concrete floor; he’s so cautious about it, like he’s scared to indulge in something other than people prying him for answers or questions. He hates selfishness, and taking this, taking you… it’ll be the ultimate self-indulgence that he may or may not come out of feeling like he deserved it.

“You scared of me?” you tease, tipping your head back as he leans a hip against the side of the counter.

“Never.” He chuckles softly. “You really okay? You want this?”

You lick your lower lip. “Am I ever okay?”

“That’s true.” He sighs heavily, raking his eyes down the column of your neck, over your nipples pressing through the dark blue fabric of your shirt, your stomach, the rise of your thighs, and then right back up to yours…

It’s like he’s a virgin all over again, you think to yourself. He needs a little help getting into it.

You reach for his hand. He lets you take it, guiding his fingers under the hem of your nightshirt. The tips of his fingers are still cold, chilly from his beer, and you shiver a little when he guides them against the inside of your thigh, creeping closer and closer to your core.

He inhales sharply through his nose when his fingers slip against the smooth, warm lips of your pussy. Your thighs part a little more, and you let out a little sigh when he takes the lead, nudging the tip of his index finger down into wet heat.

“Why are you not wearin’ any panties?” he asks.

You arch an eyebrow. “Why are you questioning it?”

He chuckles, bracing his free hand on the metal countertop next to your hip, and slips his fingers a little farther into your folds. You shimmy a little to encourage him, and he lowers his head, the tip of his nose pressing against your cheek to nudge your head back.

He kisses you hungrily, humming against your lips as you reciprocate eagerly. You can taste the beer on his lower lip, and he deepens the kiss, licking into your mouth as his fingers explore deeper between your legs. He finds your clit, targeting smooth, gentle rolls over it as your hand wanders over the front of his jeans.

“Fuck me,” you whisper, “please, Sam, I need you.”

He growls, stepping quickly between your thighs. “Not here.”

He scoops you up, striding towards the steps and feeling his way into the hall. You wrap your legs around his waist. The door to his bedroom is open, and you giggle when he kicks it shut, lips still glued to yours. He lowers you to the ground, waiting for you to stand still before running his hands under the fabric of your nightshirt.

“Get this off,” he murmurs, stripping it roughly over your head and tossing it to the floor. He palms your tits, thumbs rubbing over your nipples, and you arch into the sensation, pulling at the buttons of his flannel, popping each metal clasp until he can shrug it off. He cups your face with both hands, pushing his hips closer as you tug at his belt. His jeans fall to the ground with a dull thud, leaving him in just a pair of navy blue boxers.

He pulls back when you slide a hand into the waistband of his boxers, wrapping your fingers around the hard length of his dick. His pelvis jerks into your touch, and you grin up at him, stretching up onto your toes to claim his mouth in a deep, dirty kiss.

“Condom,” he whispers, “in the nightstand—”

“No,” you reply breathlessly, “I’m on the pill.”

Sam smirks, his hands sliding down to grope your ass. “That works, too.”

He kisses you hard, lifting you up just enough to dump you on the bed. He crawls over you eagerly, reaching down to stroke himself, and you whimper when the thick tip drags through your folds.

He sinks inside with a loud sigh, fisting his cock to push deeper as you squirm underneath him. Your knees fall open, giving him as much room as possible, and his hand falls beside your waist to brace when he gets himself deep enough to thrust comfortably.

Your nails dig into his hips on the first deep, desperate grind. He hisses at the sting and presses an open-mouthed kiss to your lips, panting hard as he thrusts into a rhythm that has the frame of his bed shuddering under the force.

He feels like heaven. Thick and hot and hard as his belly slides against yours, skin already dotted with sweat. His hand comes up to cup your face, fingers curling against your hair as his lips dot a line down your throat, over your chest, and then wrap around a swollen nipple. Your head falls back against a pillow, and you plant your toes firmly against the mattress for leverage. He grunts when you push up against him, allowing him to move even deeper inside until he bottoms out.

“Stay right there,” he mutters. He heaves himself up in one smooth motion, eyes locking on your face as he drops his entire weight into his thrusts. The loud slap of flesh on flesh echoes through the room, and you’re unable to stop your gasps and moans when you feel the ache of it. He grabs your wrists when you try and touch him, pinning them down on either side of your head, and you let out a long sigh of his name that earns a feral growl in reply. The roll of his hips changes when you squeeze around him, deep scoops that have your belly clenching.

“Oh my God, don’t stop,” you breathe, “make me cum, baby, please…”

“That’s the fuckin’ plan.” Sam dips his head to kiss you, and you wiggle playfully in his grip, the tease only making his fingers curl tighter. “You need to touch yourself?”

“No.” You catch a breath when he pauses, lips feather light against yours. “Just keep movin’ like that.”

He chuckles, shifting his weight for balance before resuming the same delicious, expert strokes. His eyes drift down your body until they land between your legs, and he groans at the sight of his cock plunging in and out of your cunt, shiny with your slick.

“Yeah, that’s it, honey,” he murmurs, “c’mon and cum for me.”

You push up against his thrusts, mouth falling open as the hot skin above his dick rubs against your clit. You’re almost there, you can feel it brimming in the pit of your belly, and when Sam’s thrusts turn into hard, bestial shoves, you spiral into bliss, convulsing between Sam’s body and the mattress as he fucks you through it. His grip on your wrists loosens, and you wrap your arms tight around his shoulders, dragging him down on top of you. He slows, then stops, lifting his head from the crook of your neck to press a lazy kiss to your cheek.

“Good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you reply breathlessly, “you didn’t—”

He stops you with a kiss. “I will. C’mere.”

He rolls onto his back, keeping you close with an arm looped around your waist. You situate yourself on top of him, eyes falling closed as your head spins.

“Whoa, there,” he chuckles, “here, baby, put your hands right here.”

“I know how to ride a dick, dummy.” You arch your back, leaning forward far enough to brace your palms over his shoulders, tits just inches away from his kiss-swollen lips. He huffs, fingers splaying out on your hips as you begin to ride him, rolling your hips and bouncing down on his cock. He grunts, mouth opening in a soft O, and you moan when he gives an instinctive little push of his hips, meeting you halfway as you find your own rhythm.

“Fuck,” he moans, craning his neck to lap his tongue against one nipple. You pull back before he can get a real taste, scraping your nails over his chest as you work him harder, faster, until his soft pants and grunts turn into full-fledged moans.

He cums with a strangled groan, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. You keep moving, giggling when he arches and bucks underneath you, breathing high in his throat as he crosses the brink from pleasure to overstimulation. Unable to take any more, he pushes you off with a hoarse laugh, and you collapse beside him, giggling with your lower lip between your teeth.

“Fuck, I needed that,” you sigh, turning your head to gaze at him.

“Me too.” He stretches one arm under your head, allowing you to scoot close into his side and rest your cheek against his chest. His heart is a steady beat, thumping slower and slower as his body calms, and you tip your head back to kiss under his jaw. He smiles, allowing his eyes to flutter closed, and skims his thumb over your shoulder.

You lie together in silence for a long time, calming down with soft kisses and touches. You’re the one to break the silence, running a hand over a small scar on his opposite shoulder.

“I don’t know why we never did this before,” you comment.

“Me either.” Sam kisses you tenderly. “It was good.”

You sigh against his lips, gazing up into his eyes as an ache suddenly builds in your throat. “Cas died.”

He nods slowly, exhaling long and slow through his nose. “Yeah. You wanna talk?”

You shrug. “I guess.”

“Tell you what.” Sam props himself on one elbow, leaning down to nuzzle your shoulder. “How about we take a shower, put something on the TV, we can take our time.”

“Uh… yeah,” you sigh, trying to keep your voice steady. “You go ahead.”

Sam gives you a soft, sad smile. “Don’t take too long, ‘kay?”

“I won’t.” You let your head roll back onto a pillow and close your eyes. “I just… I need to cry for a few minutes and I wanna be alone.”

He clicks his tongue and grazes his fingers over your cheek. “All right. I’ll save some hot water for you.”

“Don’t steal it all.”

“I won’t.” He kisses your cheek. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You sigh deeply. “I know. Go on, I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay.” He slides out of bed, and you watch him tread slowly to the door and disappear into the hallway. Rolling onto your side, you bury your face against his pillow, sucking in a deep, shuddering breath and holding it.

Your strokes of luck lately have been too good to be true, and there’s a weight in your stomach that usually only means one thing. All the big, heavy-hitting players are gone. It’s just you, Sam, and Dean now, left alone to form your own little path in the world for the first time ever. It’s terrifying.

Shit’s going to hit the fan, and when it does, this time, it’ll be the worst thing to happen to you.

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potentialproblem01 · 3 years

Text

More Padre!Domingo coming right up aka Daddy Sunday pt. 2

As per usual, all my immense love to @creme-bruhlee and my Daniel server for being a sounding board and to @gwaciechang cheering me on to the finish of this one.

Contained herein is 1.7k of somnophilia, unprotected sex, ambiguously negotiated kink, and further disrespect to Spanish Catholicism. If you’d prefer ao3 and Part One. Stands alone.

Rahab

Exodus 34, Joshua 6

You and Padre have been seeing each other for a while now, you’ve got a key to his place in the attic above the church. It’s a shame he’s an early riser since waking to the midmorning light above the city is one of the warmest things you’ve ever felt.

Padre always gets up early for work and you always come in late from classes and there’s always so little time for the both of you. What little time you get to yourselves is used for fucking and sleeping, not that you really complain about it, it’s just how things are.

It’s verging on summer, sticky heat tagging along to the end of the wet season. You’d gone out the night before and when you came in, he’d already been asleep. You were quiet, careful not to disturb his night before Mass beauty sleep. You had peeled off your boots by the door, yanked your socks and panties off and dived into bed still half clothed. He’d slung an arm around you, pulling you close, nuzzling into your sweat lank hair. The last uppers were worming their way through your system in a heady buzz as you snuggled into him like a second skin before conking out.

You woke when he got up for work the next morning, watching him dress lazily from the bed. Your head was cottony but you forced yourself up to hydrate and pull the rest of your clothes off. He watched you unzip your skirt, giving you a swat to the ass as you pulled it down. You gave him a filthy kiss before he headed out the door.

You left your clothes on the floor and went to shower, scrubbing the grime from the club off. You towel off preliminarily, the heat of the day will dry you the rest of the way as you collapse back on top of the bed sheets to sleep the rest of the morning away.

---

The late spring sun rises through the upper windows, casting the afternoon in stained glass tinted light, not enough to wake you but enough that when Daniel comes in, your skin is painted in the most delicious colors.

He undressed quietly, hanging his shirt up and dropping his slacks in the laundry basket before quietly coming up to where you’re sprawled face down on the bed, ankle twisted in the white sheets. He sits gently on the edge of the bed, sliding a hand from your ankle to knee, skin soft in sleep, clean of glitter and sweat. He traces the lax tendons on the back of your knee before travelling up, lingering on the inside of your thigh but you don’t wake.

He watches you for a few minutes, tracing sigils into your thigh before nudging them apart, dipping into the crease of your thigh, rubbing smoothly. He keeps watch over your face, looking for signs of consciousness. All you do is readjust your head against the pillows.

His finger gets more adventurous, skimming over your folds to tease at the other side, picking up a hint of damp. He smirks to himself before leaning over you, whispering into your ear “Good dreams, Princess?”

He shifts himself between your legs, careful not to disturb you before stroking himself as he dances fingers across your entrance before slowly inserting one, waiting for a reaction. When none comes he grows bolder, adding a second and gently pumping them, drawing out your wetness.

You’re wet enough for him to not have to worry about lube but he goes for some anyway, wanting you to wake to his cock being fully seated in you and not a second before. He slicks himself generously before crawling up the bed with the grace of a polar bear on thin ice. He’s vigilant in positioning himself over your thighs to get the easy angle. He approaches haltingly, adjusting himself with one hand around the base of his cock to guide and the other holding your lips apart.

He checks that you’re still sound asleep before he breaches you, hands falling to the sheets by your shoulders to avoid further stimuli that could wake you. It takes immeasurable self control on his part not to thrust in all at once. It’s smooth and a self-inflicted torture so severe it cancels out the sin of committing it.

He comes to be fully sheathed in you. He lowers himself to his elbows, rosary falling against your back in a warm cascade of beads, his hot breath fanning over you. You twitch in your sleep but don’t wake. He breathes through another quirk of his lips, you were always such a sound sleeper, secure enough in your position with God to never worry if you’ll wake again.

He straightens his back, moving to lay more fully over your back, dragging his rosary through your hair, shifting on his elbows to box in your head, pulling back a hand to loop his overly large heirloom rosary around your throat too.

He pulls out and thrusts all the way back in with all the violence of a man trying to earn his place with a personal God. This is what wakes you with a disoriented moan, dreams blurring with reality. You go to push yourself up only to be restrained by the sharp scent of myrrh and smoke all around you, warm skin pressing you down, beard hair scratching at the side of your face.

“Do you know what I preached about today, mi cielito?” A thrust, “Of course you don’t. Are you familiar with Rahab?”

You shake your head as he thrusts into you at a leisurely pace, soft and sleepy moans spilling from deep in your chest compressed between the pure sheets and his ribcage.

“The righteous harlot.”

You roll your eyes and try to wiggle some space to stretch your staticky limbs but are restricted by his beads chaining you to him. He feels you pull on them and shifts his weight again, freeing a hand to put his first bead and cross in your hand.

“Pray for me, Princess. Contemplate our sins for me.”

You make a half hearted sign of the cross, earning you a thrust and a kiss to the side of your neck. You begin to recite the Apostles Creed, each line earning you half a thrust. “Was crucified, died, and was buried- Fuck!” He pulled all the way out and proceeded to thrust back in with a rough surety, grinding down into you, digging his teeth into your shoulder.

“I don’t think that’s part of it. Start over.”

You let out a sob as you start the Creed over, trying to hurry through as he resumes his half thrusts. You close with a slightly hysterical ‘amen,’ the last of the sleep warmth leaving you for the heat of passion. The blood flow is no longer sluggish but concentrated in your core, flaring out in need. You make it through the Our Father before another sob makes you deviate from the script.

Daniel tuts in your ear, “Do you need to start over?”

“No, please. I’ll be good.”

“Are you sure? You keep messing up. Do you need a corrective hand, Princess?”

“No, no. I can do it.”

“Prove it.”

You struggle through the Hail Marys’ and pull in a shaking breath, really hoping he took Charity to heart. He hasn’t let up on his thrusts, he intentionally holds you in the limbo of regularity and almost but not enough. You know better than to beg, he’s given you an instruction and you have to thread the beads through your hand and pray.

He nuzzles into your ear, telling you how good you’re being for him. You make it through the first Glory Be and go to announce the first Mystery before you can’t take it anymore and struggle under him, trying to force yourself back on his cock. He pulls out, worming a hand under you to paw at your breast, pull at your nipple, “Bad girl. You still have an Our Father.” He presses you up into his chest, kneading at your breast, “Be a good girl for me.”

You struggle, feeling empty without is cock but you make it, begging to be delivered from evil. When you finish, he mutters an ‘amen’ against your throat as he stuffs his cock back in you, pulling the rosary from his neck to leave on you as he sets his weight against your lower back, pinning you down. He widens his stance and drives into you without delay.

The power in his momentum shakes the bed, causing the headboard to knock against the wall, a rhythmic tempo to accompany you being crushed into the mattress.

The sheets stick to your clean sweat as you edge closer, breathing hard and inadequately through your pillow. You whimper with the strength he’s using, bending your spine, wetly slamming into you.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, shuddering through you in one violent motion before you go limp under him; underwhelming and way too much.

He nudges your legs closed and you let him, creating a tighter channel for him to fuck into. He rebalances, one hand planted on your back, the other climbing up into your hair, yanking it back on the knife’s edge of pain.

His nails bite into your skin and the grip on your hair tightens before he lets out a long and low growl as he comes. He lets go of your hair but not before, “You’re my blessed whore aren’t you?”

“God, yes.” For that blasphemy he slaps the side of your face he can reach, the angle is awkward but the point is made, you wiggle your hips, clench around his spent cock, “But I’m still in your bed.”

He huffs out a derisive laugh, pulls out, “That you are.”

The mess of come and lube starts to cool between your legs, sweat growing tacky. You pull the beads through your fingers again, suck the bottom of the cross into your mouth and give him a half lidded stare before rolling over into a dry spot.

He leans down and licks a stripe up your stomach before latching onto a nipple before you swat at his head and he lets up, coming up to kiss you. He nips at your lips but you deny him, pushing his face away.

He doesn’t listen, grabbing a tissue from the bedside table to wipe himself off with before laying down next to you, pulling you into an embrace and throwing an arm over his eyes, ready to fall asleep on a Sunday afternoon with you.

Part 3

#daniel brühl #daniel bruhl x reader #padre domingo #padre domingo x reader #fem reader #somnophilia #daniel bruhl smut #priest!daniel bruhl #daniel bruhl fanfiction

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mummybear · 4 years

Text

Breaking The Rules

Words: 2929

Warnings: Swearing, Smut, Slight Somnophilia kink, Oral Sex (Male receiving), Quiet Sex, Secret Sex, Sam’s In The Next Bed….So Shh….;) ), Dirty talk, Lots Of Teasing And Being Made To Wait….Think that’s it :)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: You and Dean have an arrangement that works for you both, but you’re starting to test the boundaries, but you love it when Dean gets angry.

A/N: No Beta for this one, sorry it’s been so long since I posted! Been soooo busy with the kiddies and trying to write my new series! :P Anyway, I hope you like it lovelies! :D

You swirl your straw around your small glass and scan the bar, you know you don’t really need to look, you know he’s watching you, because you’ve caught his reflection in the bar’s mirror at least twice now. But this is the game that the two of you always play, because nobody can know what the two of you get up to, he’s your dirty little secret and your his, and that’s just the way you both like it. Your eyes fall on him once again, he’s sitting at the bar with a girl either side of him, but you’re not jealous, you have no reason to be, and he’s made that abundantly clear on more than one occasion.

The toilets are behind him this time, so you know you’ll be the one who makes the first move tonight. But you want to wait a little longer, let the anticipation build, until you can see him squirming, make him wait for you for once. He knows where you are and you’d agreed on ten minutes, but it’s easily been twenty. The rules are that he doesn’t turn to look at you, because you can’t let Sam or any other monster or hunter find out what you get up to, the two of you don’t need any other reason to be used against one another.

He’s tense, you can see it from the way he’s sitting. You’d decided to wear a dress tonight, one that doesn’t require much, before it falls away. Your stockings feel soft against your skin as your thighs rub together beneath the table. You finish your drink and keep hold of your glass as you stand from the table slowly, your heels click against the tacky wooden floors of the bar. You drop the glass back on the counter top and thank the barman.

Walking past Dean is always the fun part, you put an extra swing in your hips as you walk, discreetly dragging your nails along his jean clad thigh as you pass. And although you don’t look back, you can feel his eyes on you, like he’s trying to undress you as you walk past.

You walk into the ladies and check the cubicles are free, and lock the main door behind yourself when you find that they are. As you’re reapplying your lipstick you hear a knock at the door and smile at your reflection, not surprised that he didn’t wait the usual amount of time before he’d followed you. You’d wound him up the entire way here in the Impala, as well as the long wait in the bar itself.

You open the door a crack and smirk at him when his green eyes narrow at you, “can I help you?” you ask quietly, enjoying the way that his jaw clenches tight beneath his skin.

“Let me in, Y/N. I’m in no mood for any more fucking about,” he demands angrilly.

You bite your lip as you start to close the door, quickly feeling his foot wedge in the crack before you can close it. His arm manages to fit through the gap as well and you step back with a moan, feeling his fingers wrap around your throat.

“Is something wrong, Dean?” you ask knowingly, as he locks the door with his free hand and slams you back against the door.

“Oh, you fucking know what you’re doing. The plan works, Y/N! It’s worked for ages. So why have you always gotta fuck with me?” he demands, his voice rough and commanding.

You don’t care about how pissed he is, in fact you wanted it, you crave it, because there is nothing hotter than when Dean Winchester is angry. You pout at him as you tug down the zip that runs the length of your dress, “come on, Dean. You already know why I do it,” you purr as your dress falls open at both sides, revealing the lacy surprise that had been hidden beneath your dress, and Dean’s hand drops from around your throat.

“I guess you’re just lucky that you’re so fucking sexy, even if you are a complete cock tease,” Dean growls deeply, as he pushes your dress from your shoulders and lets it drop at your feet.

“Oh really? In that case are you gonna keep talking, or are you gonna fuck me already?” you ask cheekily, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He rests one hand on the door behind you as he gets down to your level and leans in close. And you watch an almost deadly smirk curl at his lips, “for a little slut you’re real fucking cheeky.”

“Hmmm, maybe you should shut me up then.” You dare him, keeping your eyes locked with his.

He doesn’t bother speaking, he doesn’t have to. He all but snarls as he slams you back against the door and claims your lips roughly. Your back aches at the impact trying to get closer, you welcome the pain as much as you crave the way his kiss makes you dizzy and lightheaded. Dean pushes his hand between your legs, and roughly tugs your panties to the side. Your head thuds back against the door when he pushes two fingers inside your slick opening, the stretch is just as incredible every time. His stubble is rough against your skin as he sucks marks along your collarbone, just low enough that most of your shirts will hide them.

You cling to his shoulders as he curls his fingers just right, against that spot inside you that makes you see stars. Dean’s panting hard against your ear as you squeeze your eyes closed, “not so chatty now, huh?” he mocks you, dragging his teeth over your earlobe and all you can do is moan his name.

“You gonna come for me princess? You gonna make a mess all over this floor?” he groans deeply, wrapping your hair tightly around his free hand and forcing you to look at him.

Your walls start to flutter around his fingers, and your breath is starting to get stuck in your throat. You arch into his touch, feeling yourself right on the edge of orgasm and he suddenly pulls away with a chuckle, “Dean, no, come on! Please don’t do this again,” you beg desperately, knowing your attempts will be futile.

“Oh what’s up sweetheart? You don’t like being teased or being made to wait?” he chuckles, stepping back, pushing on your shoulders and forcing you to your knees.

You glare up at him as he undoes his belt and jeans, pushing them down until they stop at his mid thigh.

“You’re such a dick,” you grumble under your breath as he pushes his boxers down, his cock is rock hard and the tip is red and leaking pre-cum, just begging to be sucked and you hate how well he knows you.

“Oh baby, who do you think you’re kidding? You knew what would happen if you made me wait. Now it’s your turn, so be a good girl and open that mouth for me.”

Dean’s grip on your jaw is tight as you lick your lips and open your mouth, you give him your best doe eyes as you look up at him.

“Good girl, I do love fucking this pretty little mouth,” he tells you as he pushes his cock between your lips, he rocks his hips slowly at first, keeping his thrusts shallow, until you wrap your lips around his girth and start to suck just the way he likes.

His head drops back and a deep groan leaves his parted lips, and his thrusts quickly become more insistent, you even have to hold onto his thighs to keep yourself up right. Almost every thrust now pushes the head of his cock against the back of your throat. You’re doing your best to relax, but you can’t help but gag around the intrusion despite your best efforts.

Dean pushes your hair off of your face and grips it tight behind your head, you can see his legs are beginning to shake, you know how close he is. He’s so thick and heavy against your tongue, you’ve never had anyone bigger or better than Dean, and you weren’t sure you ever would. He could make you come repeatedly, until you were feeling boneless and seeing stars, but you’d still crave more of him and still beg for more. He was like your personal drug.

You gasp and moan as he pulls his cock free and wraps his fingers around his girth.

“This what you want? You want my come, baby girl?” he rasps, eyes locked with yours as he fucks into his hand, hard and fast.

You nod quickly and stick out your tongue, Dean practically growls as his climax hits, and his free hand lands on the door behind you as he slump forward slightly, so he can keep himself up right. You swallow everything that lands in your mouth and lick your lips clean.

After a moment to recover Dean helps you to your feet and hands you your dress, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“You’re gonna pay for that later, Winchester,” you huff, pushing against his chest, until you can slip past.

Dean chuckles as he finishes buckling his jeans, and grins at you, locking eyes with yours in the reflection of the mirror. You roll your eyes and look down, before he’s able to annoy you further.

“Promises, promises, sweetheart. I’ll see you out there.”

Before you can reply, he’s already out of the door.

You smirk to yourself in the mirror as you sort out your appearance, trying to smooth out your hair and clean yourself up a little. Oh he’d pay alright, not in the way he’d expected, tonight you were gonna break another one of your rules. Because he didn’t know it yet, but he’d be fucking you in the motel tonight.

You can hear Sam snoring behind you, but you can’t sleep, nor had you planned to. You’d been too busy glaring at the back of Dean’s head for the past hour now. Waiting for the right time to exact your revenge. You were sure he was asleep by now, he’d barely moved and you can see his side rising and falling slowly.

Carefully you slip out of Sam’s bed and walk around to Dean’s. Pushing down your panties you drop them in your duffle, before crawling onto the bed the opposite side to Dean, and slipping beneath the covers, tugging off your t-shirt before you lay down.

You chew on your lip nervously as you shuffle closer to him, smirking to yourself slightly when you feel his hardened cock pressing against your thigh through his boxers. You gently push on his shoulder until he rolls onto his back, groaning and throwing an arm over his eyes. You carefully pull down his boxers, just enough to free his cock.

Glancing over at Sam you can see he’s still asleep, so you quickly and carefully straddle Dean’s waist, luckily he still hasn’t moved, and the slick between your thighs is becoming more uncomfortable, thanks to him you’re still so wound up from the bar. You remember the time that he’d mentioned something similar to this being one of his fantasies, so it was a win win situation really.

Wrapping your hand around his thick cock you carefully lower yourself onto him, clamping a hand over your mouth, trying to hold back whimpers and moans that want to fall past your lips. You start to slowly rise and fall over him, feeling that perfect stretch as he starts to get deeper inside you.

Dean’s hands quickly find your hips, and you watch his eyes snap open when your hands land on his chest.

“Sonofabitch, fuck,” Dean groans loudly, pulling you down roughly, so that his cock his fully seated inside you.

“Oh... s-shit,” you whimper quietly, suddenly very full and aching perfectly.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You win,” Dean moans, when you start to roll your hips a little faster.

“Shhh,” you giggle, leaning forward and pressing a hand over his mouth, glancing at Sam, thankfully he hasn’t moved.

When you look back at Dean, his eyes are completely focused on you and your hand falls away from his mouth, you lean over him and press your lips to his. Your pussy is clamping down repeatedly around his cock, you’re so close it’s almost painful after what happened at the bar. His tongue moves with yours slowly and deeply, taking your time to really kiss each other for the first time in weeks. You love Dean’s mouth and those perfectly plump lips of his drove you close to insanity. You regretfully pull away from Dean’s lips, feeling your lungs burning with the need to breathe and drop your head into the crook of his neck.

“See this is why we had this as a rule. Neither of us can stay quiet when I’m buried in this tight little cunt, so fuckin’ hot and wet for me. Go on sweetheart, come on my cock, I know you’re close.”

You can’t speak, as he rolls on top of you and your climax hits you hard, you have to bite his shoulder to stop yourself from screaming out his name. You know he’s right, but you can’t find it in you to care right now, it feels so good to have him inside you again. Dean hisses behind his teeth as your nails drag down his back, in an effort to hold onto something to ground you.

“Fuck. I love watching you come for me, so damn sexy,”

“Well you feel so good, Dean. I missed your cock so bad,” you whimper, feeling Dean’s cock throbbing inside you.

“So damn close already, sweetheart, fuckin’ love being inside you. I’m such an idiot.”

You bite into your smirk as you look up at him, feeling his hips starting to slowly move again.

“No arguments here, but you’re insanely hot and smart, so i’ll let you off,” you giggle, hooking your legs over his hips, and you try to keep him pulled tightly against you, as you start to roll your hips against him, doing your best to meet his thrusts.

You push your hands into his hair and gently tug when he starts to thrust harder, angling his hips perfectly so he’s hitting your sweet spot.

”Are gonna fill me up baby?” Dean’s about to speak but then Sam rolls over to face the two of you, and you both fall silent. You both carefully roll on your sides, so that all Sam should be able to see is the back of Dean’s head if he wakes up.

“Damn right, I am,” Dean grunts as he moves you into a better position.

Dean quickly hooks your leg over his arm, and clamps his free hand over your mouth as he starts to thrust his hips, there’s no build up this time his thrusts are hard and calculated.

“What about, sam?” you manage to gasp behind his fingers, as he repeatedly hits your sweet spot.

“Guess you better keep quiet then, sweetheart. Or maybe you can scream for me, like you usually do, and we can just show Sammy what a little slut you are for his big brother, but I bet you’d love that wouldn’t you?”

“P-Please, Dean. Only you,” you whimper, reaching between your legs and you start to rub your clit in time with Dean’s increasingly fast thrusts.

“Fuck, you know I love hearing you say that,” Dean moans, breath hot against the back of your neck.

Your head is spinning and breathing becomes a little harder, your stomach is clenching and your walls are repeatedly clamping down around Dean’s thick cock. Your heart thuds hard in your chest, and the wet sounds of your pussy are louder than the sound of Dean’s hips hitting your ass with every thrust. Your climax hits you out of nowhere, and Dean growls quietly against your neck as you soak his cock and the sheets beneath you.

Dean’s fingers tighten around your thigh, in an almost bruising grip, your head is still foggy from your orgasm, but you know he’s close when his thrusts begin to stutter. You groan, unable to speak as your sensitive walls clamp down hard when Dean comes, filling you like he hasn’t done in ages.

You’re shaking when Dean finally lowers your leg, and gently pulls out. Grabbing his t-shirt from the side of the bed, he does his best to clean you both up. You turn in his arms once he drops his t-shirt off the side of the bed. You both carefully move away from the wet patch and you curl up against him tightly, sighing quietly as the feeling of satisfaction finally settles over your tired body.

Dean gently runs his fingers through your hair, as you start to calm down a little.

“You’re getting too good at this,” Dean laughs quietly, giving your ass a squeeze with his free hand.

You roll your eyes and you can’t help but giggle, “too good at what?”

“Surprising me. I didn’t think it was possible, but you just keep doing it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the next time I break the rules,” you smirk up at him as you press a kiss to his chest, glancing over at Sam, pleased to see he’s still asleep.

Dean bites into his smirk and pulls you closer, “I think I can live with that.”

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