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snowsinterlude · 4 months

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stuffed.

(coriolanus snow x f. reader)

summary: what better way to show your affection towards one than trapping them by your side forever? well, if there was one, president snow didn't knew about it.

c.w: forced breeding, baby trapping, president snow, cnc, slapping, forced creampie, possessiveness, stockholm syndrome at the end, fem. reader, reader is (was) a opera singer

singing like there was no tomorrow was something you did quite often, being a opera singer to the capitol was the best thing that could've happened to you before. especially since you were from the districts.

so now, knowing the president is your fan (something you didn't expected, not even in a thousand years), you were singing your heart out at his parties. every bouquet of white roses he gave you always hid something. pearls, diamonds, earrings of white colored jews. he seemed to like white very much- even though his suit was always the red ones.

then, there was money.

the motive for him to give so many things was revealed when he was pinning you on the wall, the posca he drank seemed to have took control over his brain. somehow, you didn't mind it. maybe because the idea of being the president's favorite girl was something quite appealing- something your stupid self seemed to like very much.

feeling so desired, feeling so loved was something adorable, lovely. especially when he woupd promise you so many things.

you didn't believe any of them. you always made sure to be on the pill, always made sure to put a condom on his dick, always made sure to tell him to pull out when you didn't had a condom.

he was tired of it. he wanted you to be pregnant for him, wanted to see your belly showing through your clothes and the fantasies you used when performing. he wanted you closed on his room with your legs open and your pussy wet- he wanted to kill all of those who were thirsting over you, over the way your corset hugged your body so nicely and made your boobs bounce.

with that in his mind, you noticed just how rude he was tonight.

"i want you to be my wife," he said, midfucking. he would always say things like that while pounding inside you. it was crystal clear to you that he didn’t really wanted it, or so you thought, because his intention ever since he saw you was to fuck his babies into you and make you bear all of them.

"c-cory, let's talk about it later- oh, fuck!" you moaned, fucking yourself on him as his dick entered you so nicely, hitting all the right spots. as always.

you recieved a slap on your ass, accompanied by a thick, strong grab. "not later," he pounded inside you, hand on your waist, grabbing you so tightly you felt like you'd simply die at his touch. maybe it was a good thing. "now. 'wanna talk about it now."

you mewled as he thrusted inside your cunt again, his dick hitting all the right spots, from your cervix to your sweet g spot. "n-no, later, mm, truly."

he slapped your clit. it was getting rough now. you could notice from how hard he bit your nipple, it's not that you don't like it- it's just because you weren't ready for it.

"i'm serious, dove. i want you to be my wife." you didn't listen, too caught up in the pleasure, in the painful bites on your nipple, on the angry soft slaps on your swollen clit.

"s-stop it, you know i can't- i'm a performer, i-"

"i don't fucking care," he grunted, his nails buried into your skin "you're mine. from the moment i layed my eyes on you you were mine." he said, looking at your mewling melted state. "you're so wet, so tight on me, and yet you claim you don't want to be my wife?"

he laughed, as if telling a joke to himself, as if that was the biggest joke on the world. each two thrusts made you squirm, you already came some minutes ago. there were two condoms filled to the brim with his seed by your side on the bed of his guest room.

trying your best not to cum again, he took himself out of you, taking the condom of your side into his hands. he hated the texture. if it depended on him he would fuck you raw everytime. and yet there he was, obediently following your rules just to fuck you senseless.

"w-wait, what are you doing? stop. stop it! ah, fuck!" you squirmed at the hot feeling of his cum entering you, being poured inside of you, it felt so good you couldn't help but want more, for your own surprise. "p-president snow-"

"now is president? until some seconds ago it was coryo." he said, fingering his own cum inside you, making sure nothing would spill.

"p-please stop, i can't be pregnant-"

"you can." he stuffed you with it again, spilled all the cum of he other condom inside you "you will. i'll make sure of that"

taking the condom out of his dick again, the blonde introduced his dick into you again, smiling at the sight and the feeling of your wet cunt.

"fuck- look at you. so wet and still trying to say you don't want it." he smiled, nibbling on your nipple.

"n-no- i dont want to be pregnant, i can't- i have to sing!" you moaned, your hips meeting his with every thrust. you bucked your hips on him, did your best not to like it, but you couldn't lie to yourself, it was wonderful.

"if you don't want this then why are you fucking yourself on me?" his answer was a long moan you gave him, your nails scratching his back, burying themselves deep inside him. "god, you're a whore."

"p-pills. i-i need to find my pills!" you squirmed, your cunt tightening around him so deliciously god that you had to bite your bottom lip as to not let anything out- not to let him know you liked it, from his dick inside you to his cum stuffed into you.

"you wont find them," he smiled. "threw them away"

"oh fuck- pull out, p-pull out!!" you squirmed, but it was too leste already, you were cumming on his dick and he was laughing at you while pinching your clit.

"you said you didn't want that"

"i-i don't. i can't, i sing. my entire life revolves around singing"

"not anymore" he came inside you, dick throbbing into your cunt as you squirmed. "just for nome months, you'll be a caged bird."

the idea he pictured to you was terrible. a wife, always in white, drained out from taking care of two babies. even if the feeling of his cum inside you was terribly good, the thought of being a mother was your worse nightmare.

he proposed to you again the next night. and of course you had to accept. being a single mother is never good to a girl who were originally from the districts. a lot of the capitol's people were running their mouth already, saying you seduced him, manipulated him, or whatever it was.

it was the contrary.

but of course they wouldn't know that, not with your wings clipped together for you to not sing your way out.

not with your round belly showing up. not with the two babies on his arm and his. both looked like you both. your nose, his eyes. his mouth, your hair. you loved them.

maybe it wasn't so bad.

#young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #young president snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tbosas smut #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #x reader #president snow

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kunikuyu · 2 months

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Until he gets tired.

Heian Era! Ryomen Sukuna x Male! Reader

Warnings: 🕊️ DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. Dom! sukuna, sub! reader. reader is simply crazy. Size kink, cut play, mention of the term 'sex slave', dub-con, sex even when passed out, bulge in the belly, begging, abusive relationship, words written intentionally wrong, sukuna has two dicks, fainting, monster romance (for obvious reasons). DNI MINORS.

Summary: Being Sukuna's partner is something completely insane. Aside from the fact that Sukuna is incapable of loving anyone, he seems to take a twisted pleasure in hurting his partners. Every night, [Name] knows that the next day, he will wake up completely destroyed.

The climate was pleasant. Not too cold, not too hot, a gentle breeze blew through the walls and windows of Sukuna's temple. But what made everything scary and strange were the screams that came from inside.

Today was a special day. [Name] and Sukuna, the king of curses, had completed a hundred years together, as partners. Normally no one would celebrate this, since... Who would want to stand next to Sukuna? No one would be crazy enough to do that.

But, [Name] is.

"Uhm~ 'Kuna..."

The ancient sorcerer purrs. [Name] was sitting in the lap of the curse, skin completely exposed for anyone to see, but protected so no one can touch. And of course no one would touch, who would even dare to come close to the one who is so 'well taken care of' by Ryomen Sukuna. His chest was already completely red and full of small cuts, which were leaking almost invisible drops of blood. He didn't even know how he managed to stay awake anymore, it seemed simply impossible not to pass out there. Not because of the small and insignificant loss of blood, but rather for the pain in his lower parts.

[Name] couldn't move, couldn't even dare breathe wrong, if he didn't want to get slapped in the face. It seemed like an impossible task, and it really was, since Sukuna's dick wasn't just anything, or just an organ. It was big, ridiculously big, it seemed like a joke to imagine that it could fit on someone. So much so that only the cockhead managed to enter the sorcerer's body.

But Sukuna didn't care at all, of course not. He smiled when he saw his flushed face, expressing pain and clearly distorted pleasure. And instead of helping, he only makes the situation worse, squeezing hard around [Name]'s entire length so that he's unable to cum. This felt more like a punishment than a reward for staying by his side for so long.

"Such a dirty little whore... Are you that used to it? Don't you even scream in desperation for me to get out of you? I don't know if I find this interesting or pathetic." He says, with his typical arrogant and self-centered tone.

Deciding that he would take things more seriously, the King of Curses pulls [Name]'s hands close enough to him, so that the younger man is completely lying on top of Sukuna, being the perfect target for the all-out aggression the older man has in mind. He liked seeing his partner like this, but he much preferred seeing him screaming and crying because he couldn't handle his dick.

[Name] lets out a howl of pain as his severed chest is thrown hard against Sukuna's chest. It was like a thousand needles going into his skin because of the small cuts located in the area, but he still managed to find pleasure in the pain.

"Sukuna...! That hurts...!"

"I know."

Suddenly, agonizing screams of pain can be heard from far away. The screams were definitely from [Name], who was now being fucked mercilessly. He drooled against the other man's shoulder while still going through the trouble of jerking off his other cock. It was always so painful, the older man's balls aggressively slapped his ass, while his dick reached the deepest layer of his body, crushing his prostate with ease.

"Stop, please!~ Sho painf- ah!"

He doesn't even have time to complain before another of Sukuna's tricks is revealed. The two bodies completely glued together served so that the mouth on the monster-man's stomach could willingly take in [Name]'s red and swollen cock. He doesn't even know what to feel. It hurts, but he's about to cum!

And...

...To faint...

This lasts all night, and several times, [Name] even faints. It didn't end until Sukuna got tired, and he could never easily get tired of his beloved sex slave. When [Name] wakes up in the morning, a small pool of blood was formed on his bed, and next to the bed, a calm and silent Sukuna was cleaning his own body, which was dirty with fluids from both of them. When looking at his body, the sorcerer realizes that his chest was no longer the only thing that was bleeding, but his entire body. His belly was even full, certainly from Sukuna's loads of cum, which were clearly not few. He can barely stay awake for long before passing out again from exhaustion and blood loss.

#male reader #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #jjk sukuna #smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x male reader #jjk #dead dove do not eat

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snapnov4 · 5 months

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marry me | gojo satoru

synopsis: a bad idea disguised as a practical joke turns into something way deeper than you intended it to be.

wc: 1.1k

cw: just good ol fluff!

a/n: happy late birthday to my baby daddy and man of my dreams gojo satoru. i have to marry this man. i have to i have to i have to. anyways. enjoy reading this cute little fic i wrote, meaning i thought abt gojo proposing as a joke and vomited this out. enjoy!

it starts, like all things involving gojo satoru, with a bad idea disguised as a practical joke.

you're sitting across from him, in a restaurant that’s not too fancy, more of a family-type deal. he's forgone his blindfold in favor of his square-framed glasses, but his uniform is still on. he insisted on treating you to dinner after you exorcized an unregistered special grade on your own. however, with gojo, things can't always be so easy; he always adds his patented gojo twist to things, and this time the twist is this terrible joke.

“come on, it'll be funny!” he whines, from across the table.

“you want to propose to me in this restaurant for free food? when you make well over six figures a year? and have full access to thousands of years of old clan money?” you ask, incredulously, reaching to take a sip of your drink, suddenly wishing you had gone with a stronger option.

“yes, exactly. what's not clicking?”

“uhmmm, all of it?”

“look it'll be funny. you could even say no, then you can run out and i get free food as pity points,” he smiles at you, and you find it hard to keep saying no. “i mean, they'll probably all call you heartless and tell me i deserve better but that's fine.”

“okay and if i say yes, what about a ring? or the fact that we're not even together? how is anyone going to believe you?” you ask, thinking you've backed him into a corner, until he just sighs softly, keeping an easy smile, and reaches into his pocket. he pulls out a black velvet box, and shakes it a bit by his head.

“you think i hadn't planned for that?” he asks, smirking in your direction, trying to hold back laughter at your aghast expression, you drag a palm over your face, finally conceding.

“okay. fine! fine! just…try not to embarrass me. please?”

“no promises! also the waitress is coming this way, so get ready. tears are optional but preferred.”

you roll your eyes at his statement, your gaze following him closely when he stands up and walks over to your side of the table. you look around desperately hoping that no one will actually have their attention drawn to you but the thing about gojo is wherever he goes he commands attention. consequently, when he stands at a whopping 6’7 everyone’s already looking, and when he drops down on one knee in front of you, holding that little velvet box in front of you, you catch people’s smartphones shooting up immediately, great. and you're sure the vision of jujutsu’s strongest sorcerer, taking off his sunglasses and holding up a ring box to you would haunt you forever. you think right under reverse cursed technique in his list of talents, they should add acting, because the look in his eyes almost feels real.

the way your name falls so delicately from his lips, before he clears his throat, feigning nervousness. the way he struggles at first to look you in the eyes, the ring sparkling in the dim lighting. he starts:

“you are truly the most beautiful woman i've ever met, inside and out. to know you and love you is a pleasure too great for words, and i want to continue living in it every day. will you marry me?” you roll your eyes, but the smile across your face is genuine, maybe he was right, maybe this is funny. so you have no issue, saying yes, throwing your arms around his neck as he spins you around, delicately sliding the ring onto your finger. the two of you giggle all the way back to jujutsu tech, containers of your free leftovers in hand.

and so it becomes a tradition.

satoru continues to propose to you every time the two of you get the chance to have dinner together, and despite all your better judgment, you laugh and say yes every time.

and what started as a joke, turned tradition, starts to morph into something else.

satoru notices it on a summer day. you're out with the students, supervising them as they spar. the sun’s been beating down for days, he's standing beside you his eyes trained on your hands. your left ring finger has a tan line, it's from that ring. you're not wearing it, you returned it to him last night, forgetting to give it back after dinner and then desperately trying to get your schedules to align for at least five minutes, but he'd been out of town for a week and when he finally got back late last night to find you working on paperwork in your office, he didn't know why it felt like his heart sank when you slid the ring off and put it in his hand.

now, the box feels heavy in his pocket (when did he start carrying it all the time?) and he looks at you with so much adoration that had his blindfold not been on, he'd look like a love-struck puppy to any passerby. you'd been wearing the ring so much it's left a mark on you, it's obvious you'd been wearing it, the tan line a stark reminder that it was there; and something about it makes satoru wish he could make the next proposal permanent. you turn your head to him, smiling softly.

“the first years are something else this year, gojo, did you see yuuji and maki spar? they're going places,”

and he's not sure why but before he can stop himself he's blurting out:

“let me take you on a date.”

you sputter and falter, turning fully to look at him, “are you being serious?”

he nods, that goofy smile of his making you weak to his every whim, it's the same one he gave you that night at that dinner table; the same one that made you start this tradition.

so he takes you out, and then that becomes a tradition. still every day, he thinks of the way that ring looked on you whenever he slid it on your finger, and how he felt rejected every time you gave it back. he'd clear his schedule if he knew he could have dinner with you, just to see the smile you couldn't stop whenever he got down on one knee.

satoru doesn't propose anymore. he figures the next time he does it, he should be serious about it since you're his girl now. on a tuesday night, you're sitting with him on the couch, your legs are thrown over his lap and he looks at you, focused so intently on a book you've been dying to finish, the bookmark always staying near the end as you get called into emergency exorcisms, and he knows. he fishes that ring out of his pocket, the same one he gave you in that restaurant almost two years ago, and there's no fanfare, no cameras, no theatrics. he just opens the box, looks at you, and says,

“hey baby, let's get married.”

and just like the first time, you smile and say yes.

#gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jjk fluff #vela is a softie #vela loves gojo #fics #trying out a new header style also #got tired of finding those stupid manga panels

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kalims · 1 year

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you say I love you as a goodbye accidentally | all

premise.

"okay," you smile at no one in particular, though you've got a feeling the other person on the line can feel your smile. "thanks. I love you, bye," without a single thought behind your head you hang up and emit a dreamy sigh.

wait.

your smile drops as your face shifts into panic.

completely spaces out, lowkey having a crisis. did you mean it or no? part of him wishes you were because his heart is just gonna start combusting either way. everyone is concerned why he's been staring into thin air for the past two minutes tightly gripping his phone like it's his life support. he looks like he's in a dilemma and two seconds away from suffocation because of how long his breath seems to have been caught away.

can't stop thinking about it and seems more silent when in person with you. *ascends to heaven*

riddle, deuce, azul, jamil, silver.

ㅤ

is very.. verbal about it. is either bragging to everyone who really does not want to listen to his constant nagging or proclaiming, as in busting everyone's eardrums off with his shrill screams of excitement. if he could he would practically be characterized by someone jumping around the room in a fit of joy and adrenaline. he just has to do something to tame the literal mile his heart is running.

is way more affectionate with you than normal which you don't know if you should be concerned with or happy.

cater, floyd, kalim, epel, rook (sometimes.)

ㅤ

on the more calming side. but can't help but crack a smile at your words, partially aware that it was out of habit but it didn't exactly stop the myriad of crisis you just sent his mind to. though he looks completely fine on the outside he's just teensy, tiny bit freaking out on the inside. don't worry, all you need to know that he is very pleased about it.

starts to tell you 'I love you too' by the end of your calls, making everyone assume you're dating but it's more like a married couple than a normal.

trey, jade, vil, lilia.

ㅤ

is just a big fat tsudere that can't seem to look you in the eye properly when you both meet in real life. you have no idea what he's thinking but what you do know is the words you accidentally blurted last night so.. basically two idiots who are thinking the same thing but refuse to talk due to the embarrassment. would talk about it if the other initiates first though..

wants to talk about it but also doesn't wanna talk about it?

deuce, epel, sebek, jack, idia.

ㅤ

NEVER LETS YOU FORGET ABOUT IT. having dinner? oh would you look at that, that's before you told him the words. raining? it was raining during that time too. do you just want to rest? too bad, because his face is twisting to that smug look and you know full well what's coming out of his mouth next. he's always teasing you about it.

thinks what you said was a joke but doesn't really mind if it is. an 'I love yous' an I love you and he will keep reminding you that :) playfully but uses it against you :'( *descends to hell*

ace, leona, ruggie, lilia.

ㅤ

immediately brightens up and flashes everyone with his sunshine because he's so happy. his familiar love for you just grows a thousand times bigger than before and he finds himself doing what you ask without any complaints. he just wants to help you <3 cause he just kinda considers you as a family figure now..

leaves idia in the dust lowkey haha.. he still loves him tho

ortho (platonic)

ㅤ

grins and looks immensely pleased. his giggles are a little ominous but even you can discern the clear happiness in them. it was so subtle that you didn't even notice him straying closer than usual.

can't seem to leave you alone now.

rook, jade, floyd.

ㅤ

uhm.. hello? child of man? lilia told him that this.. electronic box would make him hear your voice even through the portal of diasomnia but he can't seem to hear anything, nor see anything but a black screen. strange. is it broken? (yes malleus, you broke it because you were too excited to talk to the prefect.)

did not know but probably would have died if he ever heard it and immediately propose to you and stage a ceremony.

malleus.

note. why did I forget about some characters until the last moment lolll. I am out of ideas fr HAHA. perhaps this is the end of the posting streak?

not proofread

kofi

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ashtxrie · 2 months

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that feeling when

— alternatively, enhypen as types of love

PAIR. ot7 enhypen x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, domestic love, blurbs WORD COUNT. 0.4k total

이희승 — lee heeseung

love is expressed with sparkling eyes and carefully chosen moments; words slipping past your lips sure but unprompted, less in a confession than in an attempt to nudge them into doing it first, that you’ll get them to hint to it enough for you to be sure. love is in the mix of a crooked smile with endearing eyes, wondering do you feel it too?

박종성 — park jongseong

a ‘found family’ type of love; someone who doesn’t share the same blood as you but you love just the same. a tear-inducing hug, head resting on the other’s shoulder, a soft pat on the back saying hey. i see you, and i am so proud of the progress you have made. love is the warm embrace of finally being found and truly belonging.

심재윤 — sim jaeyun

love is flirty, fun, dynamic. the entertaining and never dull feeling of playing a game only the two of you seem to know the rules to. the quick back and forth and the excitement, the butterflies, the anticipation that never gets quite finalized and the perfect excitement of something to look forward to.

박성훈 — park sunghoon

love is expressed in a million unspoken ways; unrelenting but never directly, fully but never clearly. love is shown with attention, soft and hesitant, lingering references to things they’ve mentioned before, the adoring insistence of a repeated and pleaded “i notice you”. they would give up anything in a heartbeat just to see you smile.

김선우 — kim sunoo

love is a best friendship, a duo that knows each other better than anyone else. finished sentences in each other that elicit uncontrollable laughter, eye contacts that speak a thousand words, endless inside jokes, and a little sun burning in your chest with knowing you have someone you can always trust, always count on. sometimes home could be a person too.

양정원 — yang jungwon

love is holding their face, wiping their tears, smiling through watery eyes and sobbed out laughter, saying everything’s going to be okay. love is knowing that the other person won’t view you as any less no matter what. it’s okay to be vulnerable, to let go of the things weighing you down. you have someone other than yourself to rely on now.

西村力 — nishimura riki

love is less of the kissing in the rain but rather the moment right before it, when your eyes meet in spluttered out giggles and knowing. love is in the whispered out confessions between smiling lips and blinking rain out of your eyes as you feel your heartbeat speeding up in your chest, because finally, yes, they know that you’ve loved them from the beginning.

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starlightsearches · 1 year

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Yes, absolutely! So. Eddie x FemReader. They are best friends and have this special bond but all of a sudden Eddie pushes her aside for another girl he's dating or is interested in, letting her sit in the reader's seat, canceling traditions of years like movie night, etc. But somehow he wakes up and realizes he has been an ass to her (maybe because he actually wanted to get over his own feelings for her) but the reader isn't so quick to let it all go - she wants him to prove how sorry he is!

Jealousy, Jealousy

📼✨ mixtape milestone ✨📼 requests are open!

thanks for the request, bestie! and an even bigger thanks for your patience 😬 i hope you enjoy!

Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader

Comments likes and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think 💖

Warnings: mostly just language and a little drama and angst and then fluff I think but let me know if I missed anything. I've always wanted to play around with POV switches like this, which is probably why it's taken me so long to finish this one 🙄

You're fuming in the front seat.

Eddie keeps his eyes on the road—more than he probably ever has while driving—afraid that if he even glances in your direction all the smoke you're letting off will start to fog up the windshield. Like he's driving around with a forest fire in his van.

"Listen," he says, even though he's not sure what's going to come after, "it's not even a big deal."

They're the first words out of his mouth since he told you, and they're definitely the wrong ones. Your eyes flash, smoldering at the center like cigarette ends.

Your look may be fire, but your voice is all ice.

"To you."

"What?"

"It's not that big of a deal to you, Eddie," you tell him, shifting against the dirty leather seat like you can't even stand to be near him, "but it is a big deal to me."

Valerie fucking Reed—just thinking her name has you seeing blood. Everything about her puts the wrath of god in you, from the fake-ass pitch of her voice to the way she flips her hair over her shoulder whenever she thinks she's said something clever.

You'd hated her from the moment you'd met her, after the painfully cliche the freaks sit over there cafeteria routine she'd put on for you your very first day in Hawkins. You were more prepared for that shit now—had educated yourself in the art of biting comebacks and fought only with words even when you wanted nothing more than to bash her head into the linoleum tile.

But at a brand new school when you were desperate to make friends? Absolutely devastating.

If you were held at gunpoint and forced to say one honest, nice thing about her, there'd only be one you could offer up: it was her fault you'd met Eddie. With tears still stinging in your eyes, you'd carried your lunch tray in the direction of her pointed finger, falling into the nearest empty chair and tucking your chin into your chest so no one would see you cry.

That was when Eddie swooped in, big doe eyes and denim vest rattling with pins, and a thousand stupid jokes—not exactly a knight in shining armor but you'd never wanted one of those anyway.

Now Valerie wants to take him away from you, too.

Eddie drums his hands on the wheel, fidgeting with the volume on the tape he'd let you choose to soften the blow. He let's Fleetwood Mac fill the empty space between you, all the words he should say replaced with Stevie's soft vocals.

He's not used to fighting with you. Your friendship has always been as easy as breathing—except when it's not.

. . . But you really can't be blamed for that. It's not your fault he feels all weird inside every time you smile.

He wishes you'd smile at him now.

"You know," you say, feet planted on his dash and your chair pushed all the way back, "I didn't say shit when you started ditching me at lunch to deal to her and her friends, or when you skipped on movie nights for all those parties she threw because I get why you had to go, but a fucking date?"

"She just needs a place to smoke . . ." Eddie mumbles, skin hot at the word date.

You roll your eyes with enough bite he actually feels the sting.

"Right. She just needs to get high with you at your place, because she has nowhere else to go.”

Your lips drip with venomous sarcasm—absolutely soaked through with the belief that he couldn't possibly sit in the same room as Valerie and not touch her.

Do you really have so little faith in him? Eddie's got way more self-control than either of you would give him credit for. There's never been a moment he hasn't wanted his hands on you, and he's alone with you all the time.

“Come on,” he says, swallowing so his voice won't crack, “we do that.”

“It’s different," you snap back quickly.

Yeah it fucking is, he thinks, but Eddie doesn't say a word. Maybe the silence will speak for itself—or maybe it could, if you'd let it.

You carve a frustrated hand through your hair, staring him down. “Like, how do you think it would feel for you if I went out with fucking Jason Carver?"

He resists the urge to gag. "It's not like that."

It's really not like that. Just the thought of it has Eddie feeling both sick and violent, unsure if he was more likely to throw a punch or throw up.

He takes the turn into your driveway, watching you collect your stuff with a brutal speed.

"Yes it is, Eddie," you tell him as you slide from your seat before he's even fully hit the breaks, "actually, it's worse. Because Jason is a dick to everybody, and Valerie's got some fucking target on my back. I wouldn't be surprised if this was all part of some evil plan of hers to make me jealous because—"

You cut yourself off immediately, words stoppered by some invisible dam, eyes wide. Eddie's body goes cold when you slam the door without saying goodbye, stomping off to your doorstep.

He scrambles for his seat belt, practically falling out of the van in attempt to catch up to you before you get inside.

"Wait a second," Eddie says, holding the door open with his hand and trying to catch his breath, "why would that make you jealous?"

You scuff the toe of your boot against the step. "Nothing, it's stupid."

Eddie raises a brow, but you can’t look at his big, brown, beautiful eyes right now, tracing down along his leather sleeve to where his hand is planted against the door, black-painted nails splayed wide and already chipping, although you only did them a few nights ago.

Rude that the only time you get to hold him is when you're doing him a favor.

"Stupid how?" he asks.

You shrug. "I dunno . . . she just thinks I have a crush on you or something."

It's a surprise he hadn't already heard; about half of the girl's locker room were still stripping out of their gym clothes when Valerie had to bring everybody's attention to your black lace bra, before sharing a few theories on who you were wearing it for.

"Like I said, stupid." You ignore the heat in your cheeks, gripping the door again and trying to force it shut, but Eddie's not finished.

You wouldn’t notice, but his chest is heaving under his black t-shirt, palm sweating against the door. A crush? On him?

Is Valerie as delusional as he is?

"Wait," —his mouth is on a roll before his brain has caught up— "do- do you?"

Your eyes go wide with surprise, and then shrink into slits as you push him back from the door, one hot hand planted against his chest.

"Fuck you, Eddie," —he catches the words just before the slam— "fuck you for real."

It wasn't a no.

He repeats the words in his mind like he’s casting a protection spell. Like it’s some kind of ward against your anger as he scales the tree outside your window.

It’s harder than it looks, and he’s already making it look pretty difficult—but one hand’s busy clinging to the greasy paper bag packed full with burgers and those crispy tater tots you love. He manages to wiggle his way up to your window sill without losing his pants, even though the tears at his knees got caught on every twig and branch he passed.

Eddie steals a glance of you through the sheer curtains, holding back his fist from knocking. Just so he can look at you properly, without all the static of having you look back.

You're stretched out on your bed, feet in the air and headphones caught over your ears while you flip through the pages of a book. He hasn't seen these pajamas before—the little shorts that just cup the edge of your ass, and a sheer tank top. His nails are leaving little indents in his palm.

Eddie hasn't made a sound, but with the way his eyes are tracing over you, you gotta feel it. You find him at the window, and he panics, rapping his knuckles against the glass a second too late.

You roll you eyes at him, but at least you let him in.

There are honest-to-god butterflies in Eddie's stomach when he flops beside you on the bed. And he wouldn't lie—at least not to himself—but he'd tried to feel something like this before, when Valerie first started paying all that attention to him.

Her manicured hand would brush over the sleeve of his jacket while he'd be getting her product and he'd wait for this same feeling, hoping he had a weakness for all pretty girls, that any attention would him stumbling over his words and these feelings didn't have to be the end of the best friendship he'd ever had.

But it's you.

You cross your arms over your chest, frowning. "What are you doing here?"

Eddie's smile is sheepish, but not nearly apologetic enough for your taste. He holds up the paper bag in his hand, dotted with dark splotches where the grease leaked through. It lets out the heavenly scent of fried food.

"I brought dinner, you know, for movie night."

He slips a tray of tater tots from the bag, and you're resolve falters. You hold back your hand from reaching for one even though you already know how incredible it would taste, the little rivulets of salt and shining grease coating the golden skin.

"What about Valerie?" you ask, stealing your eyes away from the junk food. You hate how petulant your voice sounds.

He just shrugs, pouring out some ketchup onto the tray, licking the excess off of his pinky finger. "Told her I had other plans."

Eddie pops a tater tot into his mouth and bites down with a heavy crunch, but it feels like your heart's the thing being popped between his teeth.

And what more were you expecting? That he'd tell her to fuck off and take her money and friends with her? She's the queen of Hawkins, and you're . . . not.

Maybe you and Eddie are both delusional—or stubborn—enough to pretend like you don't care about the politics of high school, but people had abandoned their morals for less.

“So you blew both of us off, then?”

He pauses mid-bite, like a prey animal, like if he doesn’t move you can’t be mad at him.

“What?” he mumbles through a mouthful of chewed-up potatoes.

You snatch a tater tot from the tray, chewing and swallowing even though your stomach is starting to churn because something bad is going to happen and you can feel it coming like a storm in the air.

“Why are you here, Eddie?”

“I- uh, to say sorry,” he stutters.

The food's getting cold in his hands before you respond.

“What’re you sorry for?”

What’s he sorry for? Eddie has a whole list: sorry for making a fool of myself, sorry for hanging out with Valerie because I thought it might make you jealous, sorry sorry sorry for trying so hard to get over you and doing such a bad job at it.

“I, you know . . . I shouldn’t have made other plans on movie night.”

Those were the wrong words again. Crazy how easy it is for him to fuck this up—like it was something he was born with.

For a second, Eddie thinks you'll yell at him, and he's comforted by that. If you yell at him, you still care.

You take in a deep breath, and Eddie braces himself. He can take whatever you give him, will shoulder any insults you hurl and forgive you for it the second it's over.

But your shoulders slump. You let out a heavy sigh.

And he knows he can't take that.

"I'm really, really tired, Eddie," —you won't even look him in the eyes when you say it, sliding the window open again,—"see you tomorrow?"

But Eddie doesn't see you for two whole days.

That's a fucking record.

He thought you might need space, you know. So he gave you Saturday to cool off, kicked around at the trailer and gave Wayne vague answers about why you weren't around and ignoring the look in the old man's eyes. Listening to sad records and getting high and trying not to stare at your smile in all the photos plastered on his wall.

Sunday, Eddie drove by your house with the volume all the way up on your favorite Rolling Stones album, windows down while he idled at the curb. There was a twitch in the curtains, but you weren't there to shout at him for all the noise before climbing in on the passenger side.

Eddie knocked at your door this morning, hoping at least you’d want a ride to school. Your mom opened it with a sad little frown, telling him you’d already taken your bike.

And really, the two days have only ended on a technicality. Eddie sees you right now, reading a book with your head bent low, sitting at the far end of another table.

"Hey—" Eddie twitches when the flying french fry lands against his cheek with a wet slap— "are you gonna go talk to her, or did you just wanna stare?"

Mike laughs at his own joke, and the other guys giggles along.

Eddie's used to the ribbing. He's never minded it—when you're not around. Kind of enjoyed it a little. Even with his heated cheeks and stammered shut ups that completely gave him away, he needed somebody to acknowledge what he was feeling. It made it more real.

But Eddie's not in the mood for jokes today. And he doesn't need anybody to remind him that he's in way over his head with you.

He shoots the freshmen a look that works just as well as throwing a hand over their mouths—without the risk of being licked—and brushes the potato chunks from his hair while the rest of Hellfire pick timidly at their lunches.

And Eddie goes back to staring.

This time, though, you're staring back.

He meets your eyes. Just for a second, wide with surprise before you snap your head back in the direction of your book, tucking your nose between the pages. Doesn't matter how quick you were though. Eddie caught the look you were giving him.

And his heart is beating hard, like it did on the day he first met you. His limbs all staticky and weird, palms sweating because even from the first second he knew you existed he's wondered what kissing you would feel like and the question never left his head.

Eddie's on his feet before he can think about how bad of an idea this is.

"Hey," Dustin calls to him through a mouthful of square pizza, "what're you doing?"

Eddie just shrugs.

"Probably something stupid."

You can see Eddie's long legs moving in your direction from the corner of your eye, and your stomach drops out of your ass like a dip on a roller coaster in the dark and you can't see the end. He says something to the guys—his lips are moving—but you can't make it out over the sound of the cafeteria rumble, the chatter of the other girls sitting at the same table as you, talking animatedly about all the dates they went on over the weekend and completely ignoring your presence.

You dip your head closer to the pages of your book, so close all the words blur together, trying to hide from Eddie like you've been hiding the past few days. You shouldn't have even glanced in his direction, should have let the burn of his presence so close and still too far away swallow you up.

It’s getting hotter with every step he takes toward you, and you’re getting smaller, body tight and your lips caught between your teeth.

He slides quietly into the seat beside you, fingers drumming against the table, and the sound feels louder now that the girls have quieted down, not-so-sneakily listening in on whatever's about to go down between you and Eddie—hungry like sharks for any new gossip, ready to spread the nitty-gritty about why the freaks are fighting.

Eddie dips his head down, eyes big and already so sorry it feels like a punch to the gut.

"Hey," he whispers, trying to smile and failing miserably, "come here often?"

You try to smile back, but it's not much better. "Hey, Eds."

It's quiet, but not the comfortable kind of quiet you're used to around Eddie. It's a hot and sweaty quiet, a trapped-in-a-car kind of summer burn that makes your lungs go shallow.

Eddie perks up, the first words he can think of spilling out of his mouth.

"The guys were thinking about going to the record store after school. Would you wanna come?"

You wouldn't have thought for a second about refusing an invite like that a week ago. Heaven was nothing compared to wandering around a music store with Eddie.

"I don't know if I can today," you say instead, and then when you see the look of hurt on his face, you soften the blow with, "I gotta go to the library for some . . . stuff."

He hums. "Stuff?"

You shrug, playing with the pages of your book. If you're quiet enough, maybe he'll give up.

But he doesn't go anywhere. His hands stay planted on the table, silent and still for once. The black nail polish is almost completely chipped off his nails—probably picked off and littered all over the linoleum.

Eddie's voice is a whisper when he breaks the silence. "Are we gonna talk about it?"

"About what, Eds?"

"Why you're so mad at me . . ."

You've seen Eddie through a lot of shit, but you've never seen a look like this on him—eyes like saucers and brimming with shiny tears.

And you thought being in love with him was rough, but hurting him is a thousand times worse.

"I'm not mad at you, Eddie," you admit, hiding your eyes in the palms of your hands and pressing down until you see stars, "it's just . . ."

You don't get to finish your sentence.

Valerie's calling Eddie's name from across the whole fucking cafeteria. You watch her waving, standing on her tip-toes like she's not the only place in the room anybody can look, like every facet of her doesn't already scream give me attention!

Eddie sandwiches his lips together, pressing until they turn white. You're not going to like whatever he has to say next.

So you slip the dagger from his fingers, standing from the table. He can't hurt you if you hurt yourself first on his behalf.

"Actually, we can talk about this later," you tell him, slipping your bag on over your shoulder.

"Hey—"

There's sparks in your hand where he holds you, an eruption of butterflies in your stomach. It's just your hand in his, but that's all it takes for you to forget yourself, eyes caught on his soft mouth and pink tongue.

Valerie's approaching. You can see her stalking toward you over Eddie's shoulder. There's no room for vulnerability within a mile radius of her. You've got to get away before she sees all the softest parts of you exposed and decides to go for the jugular.

The door's within reach when the room goes quiet. Quiet enough Eddie doesn't even have to raise his voice when he says your name.

He's no stranger to standing on tables, but it's the first time you've seen him look so awkward, hands swinging at his sides in tight fists.

"I- I think I might be in love with you," Eddie says, "and I'm really, really sorry."

There's a chorus of ooooooooooohs from the audience, and maybe a few confused whispers from all the people who passively assumed you were already dating. Then all eyes are on you, waiting.

It's too fucking hot in this room, and your vision's starting to blur at the edges, feeling like you're on a stage and you can't remember the next line after Eddie's verbal punch to your gut.

You mumble a sound, falling backwards through the door and into the safety of the hallway.

Eddie's down off the table as soon as you disappear from the cafeteria, totally ignorant to the laughter and the jeers from all the dickheads watching.

Valerie's in his line of sight when he hits the ground.

"That was weird," she says, and Eddie can't tell if she's purposefully getting in his way, or if she's just got that aura of somebody who could tackle you to the ground but would never bother because she doesn't have to. "I mean I always knew she was a freak but—"

"Fuck off."

Eddie really would like to get into it more with her, maybe mention that he's been up-charging Valerie every time she mentioned your name, or that half the stuff he's been selling her was mixed with ten-year old spices from the cupboard above the oven.

There's more noise, but nobody else trying to get in his way, the path clear all the way to the door.

It's quiet in the hallway, and that alone leaves Eddie disoriented, swinging his head wildly, unsure which way you went.

"I'm down here."

You're on the floor a few feet away, head rested back against one of the lockers, and all of the bad shit goes away. It's that simple—like a light-switch—Eddie's panicked, and then he's not.

You're looking up at him with a soft kind of smile, despite the tight look in your eyes and sheen over your skin.

He slides down to the floor, long legs stretched out into the empty hall, shoes leaving little scuff marks across the linoleum.

"I'm sorry,"—you tell him as soon as he hits the ground, "about, you know. It was just, um, a lot."

"Don't be," he laughs, "that wasn't the smartest idea I've ever had."

The smartest idea he ever had was talking to you that first day, snatching you up before anybody else could.

Your tongue snakes out from between your lips, and Eddie has to physically hold himself back from tasting you. Your eyes dropped to his lap, your voice is small when you ask, "did you mean it?"

"Yeah, honey,"—probably should've kept the nickname to himself— "meant every word."

He's about to mumble something like, but if you don't feel the same it's totally fine, even though it definitely wouldn't be, when your head drops onto his shoulder.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know . . . just felt like a personal problem."

You laugh, and the sound shakes through him.

"I dunno, Eds. You being in love with me kinda sounds like something that I'd wanna know."

"I'll keep that in mind, for next time," he whispers. You're looking up at him with those big, soft eyes, breath pillowing against his face.

"It's the same for me," you tell him, "in case you were wondering."

In all the time Eddie's thought about kissing you, he never imagined it happening like this—on the floor with somebody's combination lock digging into his back. With your hands in his hair and the dull roar of the lunchroom somewhere nearby and his thumb tracing along your jaw and you smiling against his lips.

He was definitely missing out.

There's the metal clank of the door, and a chorus of footsteps somewhere down the hall. Eddie recognizes Dustin's voice.

"Oh my god, dude. Fucking finally."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson #requests #my writing #eddie munson fluff

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jen-with-a-pen · 3 months

Text

Dancing in the Kitchen

summary: After the worst night imaginable, your best friend helps you when you need him most. What you don't realize is just how much you've always needed him. or: Tony Dumps you. Steve picks you up and puts you back together.

parings: protective!best friend!Steve Rogers x best friend!f!Reader

word count: 4.9k

warnings: fluff, angst, self-doubt and insecurity, verbally abusive relationship elements, insults + language/name calling, reader cusses and so does Steve bc he can, no smut!, wearing Steve's clothes (very little to no description about reader's body so do with that what you will), intense feelings, confessions, crying, anxiety, best friends to lovers, intimate touch, VERY SLIGHT possessiveness, protectiveness, not Tony Stark friendly, cap quartet mention

a/n: these characters are out of college! It's set in their early-mid 20s following graduating and I thought it'd be a little more relatable (also since I'm not in college anymore I wanted this specific fic concept to be more relatable. self-indulgence and stuff). the cap quartet rent a house together. there might be more shenanigans in the future involving them. maybe. who knows? enjoy <3

If I've missed any tags, please let me know!

gif by @annislittleshopofhorrors | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Everything was cold.

Everything was ruined.

Everything was a fucking nightmare.

Dark clouds shrouded the night sky, hiding helpful moonlight. Rain pelted at you from above, mixing with fresh tears, drenching you to the bone as cold water collected on your skin and soaked through your dress. Your hands morphed into balled fists at your sides as you shook with rage, heartbreak, and the innate need to punch something.

You couldn’t wrap your pounding head around the events of the night; everything blurred together after ten o’clock. It was like a cruel joke, one where you waited an eternity for the punchline, begging for it not to be real no matter how hard you screwed your eyes shut and prayed.

You didn’t want to believe it, yet there you were.

It sure as hell wasn’t the first time you found yourself standing at the backdoor of Steve Roger’s house on the cusp of a breakdown– and a breakup– warring with your own body to simply knock on the fucking door. Hell, Steve was already expecting you. He knew something was wrong the second you called; there wasn’t a warning text, just you, asking in a choked-up whisper if he was home. His response spilled out in a rushed ‘yes’ before you could explain further. A ‘no questions asked’ request, something not uncommon in your friendship. Steve, since day one, was one of your main sources of comfort within a thousand mile radius.

Now, he was your only source of comfort within a thousand mile radius.

Remnants of the phone call from Tony only minutes earlier echoed in your eardrums like a bad case of tinnitus. Annoying, repetitive. His hoarse, drunken slurry of vicious words clawed at the inside of your skull. Another fight. Another screaming match. Another forgotten birthday– this time, it included meeting your family. You’d planned it for months prior, making sure Tony knew not to forget it.

Your insides were twisting in knots as you waited at the restaurant awkwardly with your parents, brother, and an empty seat next to you. After an hour, eight failed calls and fifteen texts later, Tony finally picked up. Delight revived the few butterflies left in your stomach, only to be crushed, turning them into weighted dread as loud club music obliterated your ear drum as he shouted at you.

“You bitch!” he spat. “Why the ever-loving f-fuck are y’blowin’ up my phone for?!”

You didn’t have time to process what he was saying before he’d already reloaded and shot you with more.

“What the hell is sooooo important? Huh? Y-you stupid bitch! You fuckin’ knew I’m busy t’night!”

You tore the phone away. Even at arm’s length, you, and the rest of your family, could hear every single thing he spewed at you. A couple from the table next to yours stopped mid-bite to turn and throw rude looks at you and your family.

“Tony, please, I–”

“‘Tony please’– just shut up!” he mocked. “Just shut the fuck up! I don’t fuckin’ care what you gotta– what you have t’say! I can’t f–fuckin’ stand you anymore!”

Hurt and hunger morphed into churning waves of anxiety and embarrassment. Your throat was closing. Tears began stinging your eyes. You looked between your parents in shame, meeting their stunned looks filled with pity and disappointment. Your brother refused to look anywhere but the spot on his plate where he played with his food, sadness and second-hand embarrassment plaguing his face.

Yelling, jeering, and chanting echoed out of your phone. Tony didn’t stop.

“Y’know what? I’m not doin’ this anymore,” he slurred, gulping some unknown liquid down, swallowing, gagging. More cheering. “We– we’re fuckin’ done. You’re out. I’m done.”

The other line fumbled. You winced as you heard Tony wet his lips, preparing the final blow. His breathing became heavy, ragged, hard enough you could smell the liquor through the phone.

“Fuckin’ cunt.”

Click.

You loathed yourself for tolerating him; the endless cycle of poisoning you, providing the antidote, and taking it away when it seemed to get better. The whiplash from his unpredictable moods and personal attacks on you hurt as bad as it felt when he’d come around with endless apologies– accompanied by flowers, cuddles, and kisses– to heal each wound he was responsible for.

This time, though, the stab was fatal. This time, you bled out; it’d been akin to getting gutted and hung helplessly in front of your fucking family.

A sob snuck its way up your throat. You choked it down, willing your fist to reach up and knock on the door. You didn’t understand why this was next to impossible. Steve was your best friend. It wasn’t like he was a stranger. It wasn’t like he’d chastise you or yell at you or tell you to fuck off. Yet, there was a fear, deep down, feeding on the anxiety and self-doubt in the pit of your stomach, telling you the opposite; it whispered to you, telling you to run back to your car, scream into the steering wheel, and speed off to disappear from everything and everyone for just a little longer. It’d only be until you got your head on straight, until you figured out what to do with the apartment and your classes and your stuff and–

Knock. knock. knock.

In the blur of a million thoughts racing through your mind, you automatically reached up and weakly knocked, body tensing every muscle as you waited.

The door swung open, revealing one extremely concerned Steve Rogers.

Steve panted, a result from sprinting down the stairs from his upstairs bedroom in an attempt to open the back door by your first knock. Acutely aware of his jaw hanging from its hinges, Steve’s soft baby blues bore into you, scanning you up and down, stunned at you and your dress and how desperate you looked.

Time stopped the second you saw him; it was difficult to describe, but everything magnetizing between the two of you was different. You felt different– different in the way he was familiar and somehow new at the same time. Steve felt different– different in the way you were single for the first time in two years and he was single since… forever ago.

This time was unlike the million other times.

You both stared. Your lips quivered, his parted in disbelief. Both your minds instantly went blank, unable to think of anything to say, to do. So, the sky thought for you. It opened its floodgates, releasing a torrential downpour as you stood inches from warmth, from comfort.

“Steve,” you croaked, reaching for him.

It was then, everything came crashing down.

You crumbled to the ground in a heap, knees buckling while your hand and arms braced for impact with the ground. Steve quickly abandoned his tight grip on the doorframe, catching you, helping you inside. Lungs gasped for air as heavy sobs poured from your chest and tears flowed steadily down your face. You pawed at Steve’s arm hooked around you as he stumbled back into the house, kicking the door closed and collapsing onto the kitchen floor with you in tow. He immediately pulled you closer and hugged you tightly against his chest. You heaved, crying out from the painful pit in your heart, digging your fingers into his flesh, hard enough to bruise. You buried your face into his t-shirt and bawled.

All of it– the rage, the hurt, the mess of balled-up emotions from the last two fucking years– came unraveled. Hands twisted into Steve’s t-shirt, balling the fabric and pulling it taut enough to rip.

Steve didn’t shout. He didn’t complain. He didn’t utter a single word as he leaned against the kitchen cabinets, rocking you gently, squeezing you harder as his chest rose and fell rhythmically against your pounding skull, silently coaxing you to follow his breathing. Blubbering in his lap, stringing words together became futile as thoughts became unrecognizable. Another wave of panic and anxiety crashed over you. Steve’s mumbled shushes softened you; the deep timbre and honeyed bass of his voice and vibrations in his chest grounded you, welcoming you to safety. To home.

“Shh… don’t worry, I got you. I have you. You’re okay,” he muttered, running a hand gently up and down your back.

“I–he–bu–” you fumbled, lip quivering as another sob overtook you. Rage clawed at the walls in the chasm of your chest. You screamed. Guttural, pained. Again. And again.

“Shh… it’s okay, let it out. You’re okay. You’re safe here,” he soothed, rocking you, adding in a lowered octave, “I’m here.”

“T–Tony,” you hiccuped, fists twisting more of Steve’s t-shirt. “He–he–”

“What, angel? What about Tony?”

“He–he c–called me n–names a–and,” you shook your head violently, “he b-broke up with me. For real, this time.”

Steve cupped your cheek, softly wiping away fresh tears with calloused fingertips. While you continued to cry in his arms, his focus turned to the back door you tumbled through. Inside, he seethed; his rage nearly boiled over at the thought of anyone doing this to you, let alone Tony fucking Stark. Out of all the things you’d told him over the last couple years– all the threats, the cruel jokes and abandonment and insults– tonight was the ultimate cherry on top. It validated every time Tony’s actions made Steve think vengeful thoughts on what he’d do if he ever got five minutes with the douchebag. Just five minutes. Alone.

He shook the thought away, looking back down to you. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him upset, let alone remotely think you were the cause of it. He’d promised himself that the first time you met.

Tony was going to fucking pay for what he’d done to you every single second for the last two years. And on your birthday, for chrissake.

“What–” Steve swallowed the excess rage in his chest. “What kind of names, sweetie?”

You softened, sniffling, refusing to look at him. “He called me a b–bitch, a–and,” you bit your tongue, “a… cunt.”

The moment the word left your lips, Steve fought every last nerve in him not to put you to bed, get in his car, and go teach Tony a lesson on some fucking manners. Hell, even the idea of taking Bucky and Sam crossed his mind.

He pushed the thought away, focusing back on you. You needed him. You came to him for help. No one else but him.

Steve slid his hand off your back and placed it under your chin, thumb and forefinger gently coaxing you to look at him. Big blue eyes swam with concern and worry. In the dark of the kitchen, they seemed brighter than ever– a beacon guiding you back from the hurricane in your head.

In an instant, everything in your head went quiet. No more muffled echoes from the phone call. No more sobs readying to burst out your chest. No more caring about how swollen and puffy your eyes were, or the drying combination of mascara and tear stains running down your cheeks and neck. Your sopping wet dress that drenched the floor, and Steve, was pushed to the back of your brain, the cold no longer leaking into your bones as he brought you back down from the ledge.

All you saw was Steve. All you smelled, all you could feel, was Steve.

Steve swallowed. His jaw slacked, tongue jutting out to wet his lips, slowly drinking you in for as long as he was able.

And honestly? You couldn’t care enough to stop him. It’d been so long since someone looked at you the way Steve did.

Had he always looked at you like that?

“Listen to me. You are none of those things. Not even close,” he whispered, hoping you believed him.

You nodded lightly. “I–I know, but it hurts,” your voice cracked again, eyes drifting away from him.

“Hey, look at me,” he tugged at your chin, “you will never be anything like he says you are. Ever. Okay?”

You stared at him. A small smile pulled at the corners of your lips as you placed a hand on his, taking it from your chin to your chest. Warmth bloomed as it rested against your damp skin.

“‘Kay.” Barely a whisper. Enough for only him to hear.

He paused, gaze holding steady on you, lips twitching at the corners.

“Let’s get you up ‘n out of that thing, yeah?” He nodded to your dress. “You gotta be freezing.”

Gently, he lifted you off his lap, rising from the kitchen floor and pulling you up on your feet. Your legs felt like a wobbly blend of jelly and nerves that forced you to lean onto Steve for support. He anticipated this, catching you and gripping your shoulders. You didn’t say a word. Instead, you clung to him as he guided you through the living room and up the stairs to his bedroom. You passed by Sam and Bucky’s rooms, both empty for the night, just like Natasha’s downstairs.

As Steve rifled through his drawers and closet, your focus wandered to his messy desk: the lamp cast a soft, warm glow across the room, sitting next to history books and sketchbooks stacked high on top of one another; pencils and dirtied paint brushes littered the surface, products of his latest art assignment. His bed was half-made, dark green covers on one side neatly tucked in while the opposite was thrown aside, exposing gray pinstripe sheets. The walls were covered with scattered art– some his, others his favorite artists’– posters and pictures of family, friends, and some local bands. You bit back a smile. Memories of the shows you both went to over the last few years played like a highlight reel in your mind. You never regretted it; you never passed up a single invite, even after the time Tony locked you out for a whole weekend.

“Here, these are clean,” he handed you a neatly folded pile of his clothes before adding, “I promise.”

A fuller smile broke across your face. The first of the entire night.

“Uh huh, sure, I believe you,” you joked sarcastically. He feigned hurt, scoffing at your false accusation.

“I did the sniff test, if that makes you feel any better.”

You giggled, taking the clothes from him and turning to head to the bathroom.

“I’ll be down in the kitchen,” he called after you. “You, um, you want something to drink?”

You paused, turning to look at him from the bathroom doorway halfway down the hall. From where he stood, the saturated pink creeping up his neck and reaching his face was more visible than the light on his desk. You couldn’t help but hold in a snicker and flash him a relieved smile, thankful.

“Coffee would be a godsend, right now.”

Steve smiled, saluting you. “Coming right up.”

You headed into the bathroom, tossing the clothes onto the counter, slumping against the door the second you shut and locked it. Finally relaxing, you realized how much tension was pent up in your tired shoulders– which, in turn, prompted the realization you were holding your breath the entire time in Steve’s room.

Brushing the self-induced lightheadedness, you slipped the ruined dress off your body and hung it up on the shower rod. You hated the color, the texture, but wore it anyway. For Tony. On your birthday.

You cursed yourself, pulling your bra off next– a pushup that held your rib cage hostage the entire night. Just how Tony likes it.

Or, liked it.

You silently prayed Steve included some Bailey’s in your coffee.

Pulling on Steve’s sweatshirt, the scent of him enveloped you instantly. You couldn’t help but nuzzle into the neck of it, filling your lungs with the familiarity of Steve. He was a quiet, sunny Sunday morning and freshly brewed coffee. He was a nice night in watching your favorite movies and playing cards.

Your head was swimming, swirling, caught up in the entirety of your best friend. He was yours just as much as you were his. Through Tony, through other guys you’d subjected yourself to the last few years, none of them compared to Steve.

You tugged the sweatpants on, catching sight of yourself in the mirror and realizing the runny makeup staining your face. You snorted at how fucking ridiculous you looked, remembering the caked-on layers you’d put on for the evening. Again, just for Tony. The snort turned into a giggle, utterly grateful for Steve not making fun of how you looked and for ignoring the mascara stains on his poor t-shirt from earlier.

But, again, it was Steve. He’d never make fun of you. Ever.

Butterflies– the ones you’d thought were long gone months prior– stuttered suddenly, alive and fluttering in your stomach.

You instantly recognized the feeling: it was the same you had the day you met Steve.

The same feeling you’d get on roller coasters, or reading an exceptionally good romance novel. Giddiness, dizziness. It was as if you were spinning while the room stood still. Your head felt light, high on helium. Your skin burned. Meeting your own gaze in the mirror, you scanned yourself, the question ‘is this happening right now?’ running on a loop at the forefront of your mind.

Bzzt.

You jumped at the buzz of a text. With the trance broken, you took into account your shaking hands and the bumping tempo of your heart. Turning on the sink, you made sure the water was as cold as possible before cupping some in your hands and splashing your face. Refreshing. Needed. You rubbed the rest of the runny wakeup off your skin, stuffing your face into the fluffy hand towel and silently promising to get the boys a new one. Picking up your phone, teeth chewed on cheek to hold in your smile at the sight of Steve’s name on the screen.

⍟ Steve: You doing OK? Coffees ready

You looked at yourself in the mirror.

“You got this,” you told your reflection. “He’s only your best friend.”

The butterflies continued to multiply, bumping against one another, fluttering and escaping out into your chest and your limbs.

“Fuck.”

You opened the door.

⋆˙ઇଓ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“I was beginning to think you climbed out the window up there,” Steve quipped upon seeing you round the corner into the kitchen. He couldn’t help the stupid grin spreading across his face when he saw you in his clothes. You looked more relaxed, more comfortable.

More like you.

You noticed he changed, too, donning a heather-gray t-shirt that clung to his torso in all the right ways– ways you hadn’t noticed before.

You mentally scolded yourself.

“A–Almost. But I’d never pass up a cup of world-famous Rogers Roast.”

“Wow, world-famous? I would’ve preferred universally-renowned, but I’ll take it.” He held a mug out to you, one faded with a ‘I ❤ New York’ logo– the one you’d gotten for him during your senior-year college internship. “Made it just how you like it.”

He paused as you took a sip. You could feel his eyes on you, watching you, biting his lip in anticipation as you drank. The coffee tasted like liquid gold, warm and comforting and all-around delicious. You didn’t care if you burnt your tongue. This was what you needed.

He was what you needed.

Was he?

You looked back up at Steve. His cheeks flushed as he pressed his lips together, entranced with the mug in your hands, eyes ever-so-slightly flitting from it to your lips and back again.

“Thank you, Stevie.”

“You’re welcome, angel.”

You pinched yourself, then took another sip.

Silence fell, comfortable and calm, as you both nursed your drinks, checking your phones and letting time pass. You didn’t care to check the clock.

Steve cleared his throat and set his phone down.

“So, um,” he began. “What else did you have planned for your birthday?”

His voice was low, tender, careful with the question so as not to upset you. He was curious, however, and determined to see exactly how much Tony fucked up your night.

And your life.

“Oh,” you swallowed, chewing your lip in an attempt to remember what you’d originally planned.

“He was, ah, gonna take me dancing. After dinner, after he,” you took an unsteady breath, “after he met my family. It was the one thing he told me he'd let me do after dinner.” You shook your head, adding under your breath, “besides him.”

Tension seeped into the space between you both. You didn’t want to meet Steve’s stare; it was the one you’d always see whenever you told him about Tony, one filled with anger so palpable it made his arms flex subconsciously, one he thought he hid well enough so you never saw, but you always did. Without looking up, you already knew his jaw was clenched and his shoulders were stiff and his eyes bored a hole into the wall behind you. Butterflies started to somersault, crashing into the waves of worry and anxiety.

“Why?”

You looked up. Blue eyes. Stormy, swirling, stubborn.

“What?”

“Why did you stay with him?” Steve asked steadily, voice barely above a whisper. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

You paused. “Because he wouldn’t let me leave.”

“I could’ve helped you. We could’ve helped you,” he gestured vaguely to the rest of the house.

Your teeth tore into your bottom lip. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“I–” Steve sighed and carded a hand through his dirty blond hair, frustrated, trying to keep his promise while also appealing to you and balancing the fragile tightrope you two stood on. “I care about you, angel. I care about you so fuckin’ much. I just wanna know why. Why he was– why you were–”

“I–” Don’t fucking cry. “I was trapped. Every time I tried to leave, he’d tie me down more. It… it wasn’t as easy as you fucking think, Steve. Rose-colored glasses, wool over my eyes, wolf in sheep's clothing, that sorta thing, ya know? These last couple years, I… I don’t know why tonight was it, and I don’t know how I was able to get out, and I just… I don’t fucking know. I don’t. I–”

You felt tears again.

“I– Angel, I wasn’t trying to–”

“No, I know,” you cut him off, setting down your mug to rub your face in your hands. “I know. But I need you to understand that I– God, my fucking brain feels so scrambled. I just feel so confused, I feel like I’m going insane right now. Fuck!”

You tried to calm down, taking deep breaths to feed your strained lungs, holding on to each before exhaling. In, hold, out, repeat.

The room was spinning again, whirling around like a sick carnival ride as your center of gravity began to give.

As you braced the counter, strong hands and warm, muscular arms engulfed you, lifting you back from the countertop and guiding you into the middle of the kitchen. Steve pressed into you until you relented, reaching your arms around him and pulling him closer. The tension in your shoulders melted, migrating to your chest where your heart surged the moment he touched you, where it pounded against your sternum, threatening to break out of its marrow cage. You inhaled him, savoring him, feeling him all around you.

Slowly, delicately, Steve unwrapped from you. He was careful with every touch, as if he would shatter you– even though he had no problem with putting you back together again. He’d done it a million times before, and he’d do it a million times again.

He’d do it all again for you.

Steve carefully slid your hands from around his center, placing one onto his shoulder, then– nervously and ever-so-slowly– he held your other hand out, sliding down your forearm and entwining his fingers into yours. His free hand fell softly onto your waist, fingers absently and lightly kneading the fabric and skin underneath his palm.

“May I have this dance?” he whispered.

You looked up from the floor to Steve, speechless. You nodded.

Then, he started to sway. He guided you both, rocking side to side to an unheard rhythm and subtly spinning in unison under the soft glow of the kitchen light.

He smiled softly, boyish and genuine, with admiration and tenderness in his eyes. Something gentle and kind, something about the feeling and the familiarity of it– of him– sank into you the longer you looked at him. Your focus shifted around the features of his chiseled face. You recognized the light freckles stippled across his nose and cheeks leftover from the summer; the scar on his earlobe from the night Natasha drunkenly dared you to pierce his ear and failed; the faint worry lines sculpted into his forehead he inherited from his father; the soft, full pink of his lips that innocently parted when you caught him staring at you.

It was the feeling that felt foreign to you; the one missing from your life after the last two years. But, it wasn’t missing. It had been right in front of you the entire time stealing glances, accidental touches, and irreplaceable memories.

Steve had been there.

Steve had been the one looking at you like that for the last two years.

He wasn’t missing. He was just waiting his turn.

And, judging by the realization that washed over your face, his waiting was over.

Steve's smile widened as he squeezed your waist, wordlessly confirming the thoughts running rampant in your head. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the ghost of a cry, blinking away tears forming in the corners of his vision.

Your lips trembled as you smiled back. Slowly, you snaked your hand from his shoulder to his cheek and cupped his face. He leaned into your touch instantly, stubble and skin rubbed against your palm as he kissed it lightly. The press of his lips sent a spark coursing through your veins, electrifying your body and the air around you. The two of you continued to sway while the kitchen spun faster, a blurred whirlwind while you both remained in focus.

“When?” you asked, voice barely audible.

“Since the day I met you.”

“Why didn’t you–”

Steve shrugged. “I wanted to get to know you first. Didn’t wanna be some random dude who just wanted you for your number. You seemed too special to rush into something. Still are,” he sighed. “I wanted to be your friend first, but before I could muster up some courage, Tony swept you out from under me.”

Guilt crawled up your throat. “I– I’m sorry, Stevie.”

He stepped away from you, twirling you, then dragged you back to him. You could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating.

“No, baby, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. I promise. I–” his voice broke. “I wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy. I just– I wish I did more for you. I should’ve done more for you.”

He tilted his head to the ceiling trying to stop his tears from falling, but you pulled him right back down to you.

“Steve,” you started, keeping on his baby blues while your own voice struggled to remain steady, “you’ve done more for me than anyone else in the entire world. Hell, in my entire life. I just lost the last two years of my life suffering with someone I thought I loved. Who I thought loved me.”

You brought your other hand to his face. “You did all you could. I just… I thought it was gonna get better, you know? I thought, I hoped– God, I even fucking prayed– that he’d get better, but he didn’t. Nothing did. And I couldn’t find a way out. It’s like he conditioned me to believe he was the only one I had, like, he was the only one who’d ever save me.”

Steve frowned, but nodded in understanding.

“I’m glad you came to me. Not just tonight, but every night. It was like reassuring me that I didn’t totally lose you, or like I never totally lost you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Stevie.”

His face, red-hot underneath your touch, moved closer to yours. You couldn’t tell if you were pulling or he was pushing. His hands gripped your waist the tighter you held his face, the two of you crashing into one another in slow-motion. The light above you grew brighter, the humming of the appliances was getting louder, the room spun at an infinitely unfathomable speed.

You crashed together.

Soft lips– softer than either of you could’ve ever pictured feeling– fit together like the perfect puzzle pieces. Neither of you moved, staying locked together until your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer and smashing his nose into your cheek. His grip became bruising as his fingers kneaded into your waist, steadying himself with your hips. You felt another surge of electricity as his tongue jutted out, parting your lips and swiping along the bottom before retreating back behind his.

He tipped you backwards on your heel, smirking against your lips as you flinched and grabbed onto the collar of his shirt.

Setting you upright, he pulled away from the kiss and whispered, “I’ll never let you go.”

“Never?”

“Ever.”

You kissed him again, and the butterflies went wild.

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mrs-weasley-reid · 1 year

Text

Doctor is In

bau!team x psychiatrist!reader

Summary: It was their turn to heed for echoes of your cries. Unweave every inch of your life to find their beloved psychiatrist. And whoever the unlucky b*stard who took you was, he was as good as dead.

Warning: abduction, use of y/n and l/n, curse word(s), stalking, pedophilia, erotomania

part 1 (Therapy Sessions)

Saturday, 12:21 AM

Time passed quickly when a whole pack of profilers searched every nook and cranny of your life. Not a blink of sleep, yet none of them needed a drop of caffeine to stay awake.

For you, they would stop breathing if it meant finding where you were. They would spend thousands of dollars to get all the needed equipment to find you. And even ignored other patrons that requested their assistance.

It wasn't irrationality. Your case was just personal. A taunt to the BAU team. How dare someone take away their psychiatrist? How dare someone take the only person who listened to their horrific stories with a kind smile? How dare someone take the only person they felt comfortable being vulnerable with?

Penelope's heels clacked on the linoleum floor, pushing the glass door open as she sped to the conference room. "I found something!" She announced as she gasped for air, handing the paper to JJ.

"What is it?" Hotch asked, nothing but a stoic manner radiating out of him.

JJ scanned through the document, lifting her gaze to meet the others. "Y/N is not Y/N." She stated, processing the information in her head.

"What do you mean?" Derek knitted his brows, straightening up on his seat.

"Dr. Y/N L/N used to be Odette Solace. She changed her name when she was fifteen years old." Penelope elaborated, picking up the remote.

"Her name sounds like a celebrity. Why would she want to change that? At the age of fifteen too?" Emily's mouth fell slightly open, and her brows locked in confusion. She wasn't lying at all. And she was one to possess different names during her days at Interpol.

Penelope hummed, pressing the button of the remote. Images of police reports appeared on the screen. "At first, I had a hard time digging into our angel dove, Y/N's past, because it came out blank as in plain white canvas type of blank. But then I thought, let's look more into her parents. That's when I realized how Y/N and her parents have different last names. And then my powers did wonders, speed like the Flash, ka-chow! Y/N had been stalked by this creepy neighbor across the street since she was four. And hear this, one time, her parents were out late, so a babysitter was hired. This dude claimed that Mr. and Mrs. Solace asked him to fix their sink to watch little Y/N playing in the living room. Happened a lot of times that her parents decided to move to a different house five blocks away. And guess what?"

"The neighbor moved to a house in the street?" JJ continued more of a statement than a question, earning a nod from Penelope.

"Because of that, Y/N was not allowed to go out, and she always wore a veil to cover her face if she really had to. The stalking stopped for a few years after the owner of the house this dude was renting kicked him out because they heard about his creepy secrets from Y/N's parents. So, all was well. Y/N got to go outside got to play with her friends. She even started going to school." Penelope triggered the screen to flash younger pictures of you.

Everyone loosened up, looking at your little smiles. A momentary relaxation amid their anxieties regarding your safety.

The first photo was of you in a fairy costume. Wings and wand and all. You carried a pumpkin bucket filled with sweets that shot up the smile on your face.

Spencer was particularly grinning at the image. He remembered how you always had a small bag of candies waiting for him every Halloween for him to pick up, whether he needed someone to talk to or not.

You even personalized it to his liking. Every candy inside the bag was taped on a small piece of paper with a nerdy joke or pun about the candy's brand.

The second photo was Emily and Derek's personal favorite. You wore a camouflage suit, two lines of black paint on each of your cheeks, and a paintball gun almost as big as you. Your face was scrunched in an attempt to look threatening, but you failed and looked constipated instead.

The team once had a horrible case where Emily and Derek disagreed. Hearing about it from Penelope, you asked both of them to visit your clinic without the other knowing.

They argued in your office but stopped when you handed each of them a paintball pistol and said, "Go on. Shoot each other. I'll be watching with more bullets if you need more."

The third image was you at the early age of fourteen. You were surrounded by four-year-old kids who latched onto you. It was the day you volunteered to help your mother, who worked in a daycare.

Hotch couldn't help but recall the day he had to bring Jack to your doorstep. The little boy was missing his mother and wouldn't talk to Hotch, which left him feeling hopeless until you crossed his mind. Maybe you would be able to encourage Jack to talk.

And just like he predicted, you were terrific with Jack. The boy was more open to his father after just one lunch date with you. Even if he didn't know the trick to mend his son's broken heart, as long as Jack could express his feelings to someone, Hotch was forever grateful to you.

Rossi wasn't impressed by your fourth photo. The fettuccine pasta you made from scratch looked more like angel hair pasta. But the caption that your mother typed clearly stated fettuccine. He made a note to teach you the difference between different kinds of pasta when they get you back.

And then there was the last photo that Penelope and JJ found hilarious. It was a yearbook photo of you. Your hair was a mess, and your braces sparkled from the flash.

Sometimes your hair still ends up that way, especially on rainy days. And they couldn't wait to see you again, alive and well, so they could tease you about it.

Sunday, 3:45 PM

You woke up from a throbbing pain in your temple. It has been a week since you got the impact wound on your head, and it still was excruciatingly painful. You needed to see a doctor as soon as possible.

And you would've walked straight into one if you could only get out of the knot that bound your limbs together.

It was dim where you were. The light that flickered as your only source of hope.

Somehow, you knew some people searching for you. And you wanted to stay alive for them as long as you could.

"Hello?! Hey!" You called out, looking around the dark room. "Please just let me out! Please!" You begged, your voice hoarse from the long week of screaming at the walls.

The door swung open, welcoming light that came from outside. You squinted your eyes, blinded by the sudden brightness.

You've heard the same door open and close for a week, and you had a great estimation of what it was made of. Metal.

A man threw a tray of food on the table in the corner of the room. He wasn't evil to deprive you of water, either. So why was he doing this to you?

You weren't a federal agent like your favorite patients. You didn't catch any serial killers. You didn't send anyone to jail. And for years, you have been a psychiatrist and never received a complaint. All your patients seem to feel better, as far as you know.

He glowered over you, "Come and eat, Odette. You don't want the food to get cold." He said in a loving voice.

"Why do you call me that? My name's Y/N. Why do you keep calling me Odette—"

A loud bang almost bled your eardrums. You thought he shot you. You shakily opened your eyes again, figuring out which part of your body had been shot.

But you weren't. He smacked the tray so loud it sounded like a gunshot. Relief spread all over your chest, and tears raged down your face.

"No, no, no, no..." His face softened, kneeling in front of you. "Don't cry. Please, don't cry." He cooed, wiping your tears.

The touch of his hand on your skin only made your tears flow like a mad river. You were disgusted by the way he acted like a lover. You had no lover.

You had no other choice. You held his hand. "Please... just let me go. I won't tell anyone. Just let me go." You sobbed.

Monday, 6:42 AM

"Sir, Mr. and Mrs. Solace is waiting for you." An agent announced in the conference room after interrupting them with a knock.

With her communication liaison background, JJ took the initiative to meet your parents. She walked down the small flight of stairs and was met with a worried couple.

"Hi, my name is Agent Jennifer Jaraeu. I'm the one who called you yesterday." She greeted kindly, flashing them a soft smile.

Your mother stole JJ's hand, clutching it for dear life, your dear life. "Please save my daughter. She's a very, very good daughter. She's always caring." Her tears fell in an instant.

JJ's heart shattered into pieces. You were loved, for Pete's sake! How dare the unsub take you? She calmed herself down before placing a hand atop your mother's. "We're doing everything we can to find her. She's a friend of mine, of all of us. We're not going to stop until we find her."

"Thank you—" Your father said in a broken voice, breaking into sobs. He was worst than your mother. He may have put on a brave face at first, but he was a mess as he shed massive tears for his only daughter.

JJ led them up to the conference room, introducing the team, your friends, hoping it would lessen your parents' worries.

"Ma'am—" Rossi was cut off by your mother.

"Lara, Agent Rossi. You can call me Lara." She sniffed.

Rossi offered her a small smile, "Then you may call me David." He waited for her nod before continuing. "We found out that Y/N changed her name when she was fifteen?"

Your father's eyes widened. No one was supposed to know that. It was a secret your parents swore to bring with them to their graves. "How did you know about that?" He defensively asked.

"We don't mean to offend you, Mr. Solace, but we needed to know everything about Y/N's life to figure out why she was abducted." Emily leveled, making sure her words did not alarm your parents.

"She doesn't know," Your mother cried, feeling your father wrap his arms around her to make her feel safe. She exchanged looks with your father, conversing through their eyes.

"She doesn't know," Your father repeated. "Y/N doesn't know her name used to be different." He explained vaguely. And when the whole team remained quiet, he knew they needed more than that. So he sighed, "That bastard took our daughter on her fifteenth birthday. It was a whole car chase that led to an accident. Y/N was hurt badly and had a head injury. She had difficulty remembering us because of trauma, so we changed her name and let her live a life free from that asshole's memory. To this day, Y/N has no idea. My wife and I made sure no one would ever know. We even hid the files from the government as best we could. Please, we don't want our daughter to remember. She already had a hard time." He rambled, holding your mother close as he fought the threatening tears to fall again.

Tuesday, 5:55 PM

The pain you were feeling has only gotten worse. But the worse thing of all was your dreams.

The man who abducted you was in those dreams. He was a lot younger, and so were you.

One of the dreams showed your four-year-old self running around a living room you weren't familiar with. And there was the man, smiling and rattling a toy in front of you. He brushed your hair, held your hands, and even playfully asked you to kiss him.

You felt nauseous. Your stomach hurled at the vivid dream. But something in your mind was telling you it wasn't. You gagged at the thought that it was real.

And tears began to rain on your lap. You stared at the door, "Someone, please, get me out of here."

Wednesday, 10:01 AM

"Garcia, search for a job with much free time. The unsub would've used those times to stalk Y/N. Maybe he's a janitor somewhere." Spencer stood behind Penelope, watching as she did her magic with her sets of keys.

One result popped up. "Oh, my god." Penelope blurted. Her eyes were filled with terror.

Spencer's brows furrowed, "What? What did you find?" He leaned closer to the screen, squinting his eyes.

"I know that address really well. That's—"

"That's Y/N's clinic." Spencer continued, stumbling his way out of Penelope's bat cave.

Penelope knew she couldn't catch up to him, so instead, she dialed Derek's number.

"'Sup baby girl, what you got for us?" He greeted her, putting her on speaker.

"The unsub. He's working for Y/N's clinic as a janitor. He's been under our noses this entire time. And–and it says in the schedule, he should be working." Penelope stammered, panicking despite the great news.

All of them shared a look as Spencer flew inside the room. Hotch gave Rossi a nod, "Alright, let's head there now." He turned to JJ. "If it's okay with you, JJ. Can you stay with Y/N's parents?"

JJ glanced at your parents, who sat in the kitchenette area in the bullpen. "I'm alright. I'll keep an eye on them. Go get our psychiatrist back. I have so many rants for her." She smiled, earning a stern but soft nod from Hotch.

It was as if they were all thrown off their seats when they moved. Derek paused, focusing on his phone. "Thanks, baby girl. We're gonna go get mama bird." He hung up the phone and followed the others.

The drive to your clinic was like flying from Quantico to New York in under fifty minutes. They were at the doorstep of the building faster than they usually go.

"I'm Agent Hotchner. We're a friend of Dr. L/N. We just wanted to know if you've recently hired this man." Hotch handed a photo of the unsub to Dr. Basset.

His eyes widened, "No, it's not recent. We've had him working for us for two years. He even stays in the spare room in the basement. He was old, so I thought it was harmless." He explained, worry creeping under his skin. He had never expected anyone to hurt his fellow doctors.

"And where's the basement?" Emily followed, nodding when Dr. Basset gave them the directions.

Meanwhile, Spencer, Derek, and Rossi made their rounds into every maintenance closet in the clinic.

"Clear," Spencer stated, stepping out of the third closet they checked. And when he turned his gaze towards Derek, he found the unsub behind him, coming out of a room. "Hey!"

The unsub's eyes blew wide, discarding his cleaning equipment and running on reflex.

Derek quickly followed in his footsteps, tackling him with a heavy body. "Don't move! Stay down!" He hissed, pinning the man down.

Rossi and Spencer followed suit, gun pointed to the man that made your entire life a living nightmare, aware or not. "Where's Y/N?!" Rossi grilled.

The unsub's deranged laughter echoed in the clinic halls, sure to leave nightmares in everyone that heard him. "I don't know a Y/N. You must be mistaken." He struggled out.

"Where's Odette?" Spencer interrogated, urging the unsub to halt his maniacal laughter.

"My sweet, sweet Odette... She was born to be my wife..." The unsub seemed to be in a trance of what he thought your lives together would be.

Hotch and Emily reached the basement, checking every corner, hoping you would be there. And then, there was a door made out of steel.

Emily softly tapped on the door, pressing an ear against it. "Y/N? Y/N, are you there?"

Your ears rang at the sound of her voice. You knew Emily's voice like the back of your palm. You attempted to pry your eyes open, but they were too heavy.

"Y/N?" Hotch knocked thrice on the piece of metal. "This is Hotch. We're here to take you home."

A strangled sob came out of you. Finally. "Hotch..." You called out in a raspy voice, feeling all the pain surge in your body.

It was faint, but they heard you loud and clear. Emily and Hotch exchanged nods before Hotch turned to the door. "I'm going to kick the door. Make sure you're away from it, okay?" He announced.

Light filtered in like a spotlight directly on you. One side of your face was stained with blood, pale skin, and dry lips that turned gray.

Hotch immediately removed his jacket and wrapped it around you while Emily untied your limbs.

And a hoarse giggle shook you, "I knew you'd find me." You whispered, slowly drifting off. "I knew you all were too attached to me to find a different psychiatrist." One last chuckle, and you were out.

Thursday, 1:23 PM

You were awakened by the annoying beeping on your side. Luckily, the pain didn't seem to factor in your consciousness returning.

You slowly opened your eyes, subconsciously squeezing the hand that held yours.

"Y/N! Oh, my, god! My baby." Your mother sobbed, squeezing your hand tighter. Your father went out to call for a nurse.

You gathered a smile as you adjusted your vision under the bright fluorescent lights. "Hey, mom." You rasped, feeling a lot better than the past week.

You felt her kissing your knuckles, catching her silent sobs. "I was so worried about you... I thought staying away from you would've kept you safe." She was apologizing, and she didn't need to say a word. Her hold on your hand was enough sign that she felt awful for letting you out of her sight.

"So... they weren't dreams, were they? He really has been on my tail this whole time?" Your mother stopped sniffing, hesitating. "Please be honest. I'm not mad. I just want to know who I am."

"Oh, sweetheart," She tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. "You are you." She started, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Your father and I may have changed your name, but you are the same daughter we were blessed with. He was trying to take our baby. We just wanted to keep you safe."

You nodded, squeezing her hand back. She stayed by your side the entire day, afraid that someone else would retake you if she left you even for just one second. Until you insisted that she and your father go home and get some rest.

An hour later, came piling in a pack of profilers. They were like children at the edge of your bed.

Penelope had a massive basket for you. She said you must take all of them because they keep you hydrated.

Spencer carried his own gift for you. A book. One that you repeatedly mentioned to him but never seemed to find the time to read. He handed it to you, tucking his long curly hair behind his ears. "I annotated it, so it's easier for you to read." He gave you a tight-lipped smile.

"How are you feeling?" JJ asked, sitting beside you.

You smiled, "Better." You announced.

A wave of relief washed over them. You found it adorable. How much they loved you. How much they depended on you in a way that would disrupt a doctor-patient relationship. But you didn't care. They will always be your favorite patients.

"Jack made this for you," Hotch giddily said, giving you a customized card.

You flipped it open and immediately laughed, making you wince as your head throbbed. Your gaze met Hotch's, "You have yet to learn from Jack, Hotch." You said, showing him the inside of the card.

The others peeked behind Hotch as he scanned the contents of the card.

There was a drawing of a woman, a stick figure, with flowers in her hands. But that wasn't what made you laugh. It was Jack's message below it.

Dear, Y/N

I hope you feel better soon so we can bake cookies again!

Love, Agent Jack

P. S. Dad drew you, which was terrible, so I added flowers to make it look better.

The others also erupted in laughter while Hotch grew into a red tomato. He passed you the card back, unable to meet your eyes.

"Wanna talk about how your son embarrassed you in front of your colleagues? I can help you bounce back from the trauma." You cooed, a teasing grin on your lips. "The doctor is in."

#bau x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fandom #criminalminds #bau team #ssa jennifer #ssa spencer reid #ssa emily prentiss #ssa aaron hotchner #derek morgan #penelope garcia #dr spencer reid #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #emilyprentiss #david rossi #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner

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renaiswriting · 9 months

Text

Under the moonlight

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol/Reader

Summary: Late-night adventures with the guy your parents hate.

Word count: +2.6k words.

Warnings: snicking out of your house, mentions of your parents not liking Seungcheol, kind of forbidden love (?), mentions of tattoos and dyeing hair being seen as something that criminals do.

Author's note: I had a dream like this probably a week before my birthday, and every time I heard the song "In the middle of the night," I kept remembering it, so I decided to write it down. It's cringy, so you're welcome.

Under the moonlight moodboard

Under the moonlight playlist

Masterlist

*if you wanna be tagged, please fill out the tag list form

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Your reflection on the other side of the mirror looked back at you with the same intense sparkle in its eyes as yours.

You put on your favorite perfume once again. It was your favorite perfume. The one for special occasions

The one you avoided wearing at all costs because it was too expensive to buy again, but that you wore because it was his favorite.

You touched up your eyeliner one last time and your red lips.

There was a sweet melody playing in the background.

It was one o'clock in the morning.

The sky was invaded by thousands of stars and the beautiful moon that had watched you grow up since you were a little girl.

It was still early.

You approached your window, sighing as your eyes were mesmerized by such overwhelming beauty.

You could feel your stomach being invaded by the tingling of hundreds of butterflies.

As nervous as you were.

A small chuckle escaped your lips, the sound startling you and causing you to quickly cover your mouth with your hands.

You were about to do something your parents would punish you for if they found out.

And that scared you a little.

But you couldn't help it.

The feel of his arms around your waist

His lips on yours

The sweet words he said as his hands drew you closer to his body

His perfume.

His husky voice.

The way he laughed

The way he looked at you

It was all so addictive.

That every time you set out to end this weird situation you were in, it just left you craving more.

Waiting for the next time you see him.

The images of the last time you had met only made the warmth in your cheeks spread to the rest of your body.

You looked at the time once more, wiping your palms against your clothes, before stopping the song that had been playing until then.

The volume was barely audible inside your room, so you knew your parents simply couldn't hear it.

Seungcheol: I'm here.

Taking a deep breath and a last look in the mirror, you walk as slowly as possible and carefully down the stairs.

You could feel your heart beating a thousand miles per second, pounding hard against your chest.

Seungcheol's black car was parked behind some trees, the spot he always chose because it was almost completely dark in case your parents or some gossipy neighbor wanted to look out the window. They couldn't spot him at first glance.

Its windows were tinted, so you couldn't see inside.

You bit your lower lip, trying to keep the smile that threatened to appear on your face from being too obvious.

The light inside the car came on as you slid into the passenger seat.

Seungcheol had one hand on the steering wheel, and his back was completely relaxed against the seat.

"You took your time; I was starting to think you might have changed your mind." He greeted you; his eyes traveled from your face to your dress, smiling broadly. "Looking pretty, as always." His minty breath washed over you; it was so addictive.

"I know." You rolled your eyes, gently tapping him on the shoulder.

You loved the way his strong biceps felt under his black leather jacket.

"I thought you might have fallen asleep; it's kind of late already. I was looking forward to seeing you in your pajamas." He teased you.

"Me in my pajamas? For you? Never." I joked back.

"Aw, trying to look all cute for me?" He continued the joke, starting the car and starting to drive away from your house.

The further they drove away, the more relaxed you felt.

You rolled down the windows, letting in some of the fresh air from outside.

There were almost no cars; it was as if you had the whole night and the whole world to yourselves.

"Did your parents hear you?" He asked, not really minding the silence between you both.

"No, my dad was snoring last time I checked."

"I was ready to take an emergency escape route just in case." He replied, and while there was a teasing smile on his face, you weren't sure if he was joking or not.

Seungcheol hummed the song that had started playing and turned up the volume a little.

You smiled.

Carefully, you moved your face closer to the outside of the window, trying to get a better view of the dark sky and the stars.

"Enjoying the view?" Seungcheol asked, his voice deep and husky.

"Yeah," you sighed, moving back to your seat. "It's definitely way peaceful out here."

You closed your eyes against the back of the seat, enjoying what came to be this little taste of freedom.

Seungcheol's hand rested on your knee, holding it gently.

The warmth of his hand spread from your knee to the rest of your body, making you suddenly all too aware of every move Seungcheol made.

"I'm glad," he replied.

You wondered if he also felt as nervous and anxious about these little meetings as you did.

Your fingers began to drum against the inside of your leg, trying to calm your nerves a little.

Seungcheol's hand caught yours without needing to look away from the road. "Why so nervous?" He asked quietly.

And truth be told, it wasn't at all fair the way he seemed so calm.

When one look from him had you shaking from head to toe,

"I'm not," you tried to defend yourself.

"Such a terrible liar." Seungcheol replied.

"What's that?" you asked, when the reflection of a light shone on his wrist.

Seungcheol smiled proudly, moving his arm closer to you so you could discover it on your own.

Your hand carefully moved along the red skin and dark lines. "Do you like it?" He asked.

"It's beautiful." You breathed, taking a closer look at the little details. "When did you get it?"

"This morning." Seungcheol replied happily.

"Did you actually wake up early? Wow. Unbelievable." You teased him.

Seungcheol pockets out his tongue at you. "I actually fell asleep while they were doing it." He confessed.

Your eyes were wide open with this new piece of information.

You didn't have any tattoos, but everybody that you knew that had one always complained about how painful they were.

"I must say, it's pretty, but the one on your neck is still my favorite one."

Seungcheol looked in your direction, making eye contact for a brief second. You couldn't ignore the obvious glow in his eyes. "I can take you to the person who did it; maybe you can get one of your own." He smiled, biting the inside of his cheek.

"And get my ass kicked out of my house? No thank you." You laughed.

"Well, what if you have it in a more discreet place? Like your lower back or something like that? I bet it would look good on you."

"I would pay just to know how many times you have thought about me getting a tattoo there."

Seungcheol didn't reply, but he changed the song.

You grinned when your brain recognized the song. Seungcheol glanced at you, chuckling at your reaction.

"Oh, you still remember it." He laughed, his cheeks tinted pink.

"How could I not?" You replied, laughing, "How old were you, nineteen?" You asked him.

Seungcheol snorted a yes, looking out of the window to avoid your teasing eyes.

"God, you have always had such a cheesy music taste." You laughed but still sang every single line of the song Seungcheol dedicated to you after your first encounter.

"It's not cheesy!" He sulked. "It's romantic."

Seungcheol would never know how much you replied to that song, dancing around your room like a fool in love, the first time you read the text with the name of the song.

Seungcheol and you were not exclusive.

Never spoke about not seeing other people.

But truth be told, you weren't interested in anyone else.

Since the moment your mother told you to stay away from him, it has been as if you had only eyes for him and no one else.

The first time you both spoke to each other was when your teacher sent you to give back the exams. Seungcheol accidentally bumped into you, and he apologized.

If he liked you at first, he was not sure about you.

Sure, he did look in your direction here and there. But he didn't talk back to you for months after that.

And you weren't sure if it wasn't for that party one of your friends made you go to, things would have gone the way they did.

Seeing him was fun, and it made you stop thinking.

Something that you needed so badly because overthinking seemed to be the only thing you knew how to do well.

Hours felt like seconds, and you always forced yourself to stay in the moment because the night was so short that you didn't have much time in your favor.

But then you were back at your house, back in your bedroom, between the four walls, wondering if it meant the same to Seungcheol as it meant to you.

"Are you sure you didn't fall asleep there?" Seungcheol asked, his hand coming under your chin and moving your head in his direction. The physical touch brings you out of your thoughts.

"Still wide awake." You mumbled, but a yawn made its way out of your mouth anyway.

"You sure?" He smiled at you. Finally reaching your favorite spot and stopping the car

It had a name, that's for sure, but you never learned it. However, you called it stars. Since it was so high, you could see all the lights from the city and all the stars in the sky at the same time.

The sky seemed way bigger from there.

It was usually occupied by tourists during the day, but at night it was mostly just you two in there (except one time where there was a car with a couple doing god knows what inside).

You went ahead of Seungcheol, getting out of the car and rushing to the edge, looking at the beads of lights that were shining brighter that night.

Seungcheol turned off the car's engine, and now that the place was completely dark, everything seemed even more private.

Seungcheol got out of the car and walked to your side at a slow pace, his hands resting in the front pockets of his black jeans.

"It is so beautiful," you sighed, trying to take in every single detail of the view in front of you.

"It's the exact same view as always." Seungcheol replied, You didn't need to turn your head to see him smiling, "but I agree, it is beautiful." You could feel his eyes on you.

You hummed, taking in the fresh air of the night.

There was not a single sound.

Seungcheol leaned against the hood of the car.

His hands were crossed over his chest.

The cold air was moving your hair, and that got you fighting against the air to avoid getting your hair on your face.

"You cold?" Seungcheol asked, removing the jacket from his shoulders.

You didn't respond; instead, you took a few steps back until you reached Seungcheol, who, after gently placing his jacket on your shoulders, moved his fingers up to your chin, lifting it so you could look into his eyes.

His free hand moved a lock of hair that was falling over your eyes, leaving it behind your ear.

"Your lips are purple." Seungcheol frowned, bringing his forehead together with yours. His sudden closeness got the reaction he was looking for, causing you to close your eyes in anticipation of his lips.

Seungcheol mumbled something, but you didn't really pay too much attention to it; your brain turned off the second you felt his soft lips against yours.

Seungcheol's hand moved to your cheek, his thumb stroking it gently.

Your heart was pounding so hard against your chest that you were afraid Seungcheol was feeling it.

Seungcheol moved his lips so slowly that a fire was slowly forming inside you, sending a shiver down your spine.

You broke away first, taking a step back and avoiding looking him in the eyes.

This was the part you hated—the moment when you wondered whether or not these weird emotions you were feeling were mutual.

If Seungcheol noticed any strange expression that was reflecting the mess you had in your mind at that moment, he did not mention it.

You sat next to him. Neither of you were looking at each other, but Seungcheol bumped you with his shoulder, lightly shaking you with his shoulder, and laughed when he heard your insults.

"Asshole." You told him, giving him back the push he had given you but using your hands instead, trying to use more force because Seungcheol was as easy to move as a mountain.

Seungcheol laughed, catching your hands and moving you until you were sitting between his legs.

"There, there, stop struggling." Seungcheol shushed you as if he were talking to a puppy that wasn't obeying.

He rested his chin on top of your head, drawing you to his chest as another tremor swept over you, hugging you.

"Maybe we'd have to get back in the car," Seungcheol muttered, trying to use his hands to create more warmth in your arms, rubbing the cold jacket. "You're going to be sick."

"In a few moments," you replied, "I want to enjoy this view a little longer."

"When you wake up tomorrow and can't talk because of a sore throat, remember to tell me so I can say, 'I told you so.'" Seungcheol complained, but he held you tighter anyway.

"What did you do today?" You asked, moving your head slightly to discreetly take in some of his perfume.

"No much," Seungcheol replied, his voice vibrating against your back. You closed your eyes to the sensation, liking it a little bit too much to be surrounded by his scent and his warmth. "I woke up early to help Wonwoo repair one of his motorcycles, and then I went to get the tattoo."

At the mention of the tattoo, your hand went instantly to his arm, your fingers carefully touching it.

"For someone who swears that she loves my other tattoo more, you're surely giving it way more attention."

"Yeah, well. The place where the other one is makes the whole attention thing difficult." You shrugged, freeing his hand.

"I'm still insisting that a tattoo on you would look amazing."

"I'm not against the idea, but my parents would be so furious at me." You replied.

"But what can they do once it's done?" Seungcheol asked, holding your cold fingers once again. "I never asked my mother for permission for my first; she saw it around a month or two later, and by then it was too late anyway, so she couldn't really do much. I bet your parents would get around the idea someday."

"I'm not so sure about it," you replied, but my mother sometimes still holds ground whenever she remembers that my older sister dyed some of her hair blonde when she turned twenty-five."

"But she was old enough already for that." Seungcheol frowned. "I was seventeen when I got my first tattoo." He chuckled.

"Was it good?"

"Nah," Seungcheol said, shaking his head. "It was so cringy, I got it covered up by another one."

You laughed, moving to get away from Seungcheol's arms. You were freezing, and the warmth that the car could provide was now way more tempting.

"Don't you think your parents would change their mind once they see you doing stuff like tattoos?" Seungcheol asked.

"I honestly don't know; my parents think that things like tattoos or dyeing your hair mean that you're a criminal." You smiled sadly.

"I would love to know what they think about me." Seungcheol smirked, turning the car on and starting to drive to MacDonald's to buy something to eat in the drive-through. Your stomach was already begging for some food.

The rest of the night passed so quickly that when you started realizing that the sky was now filled with much more light, you started feeling disappointed.

"You keep it." Seungcheol shook his head, passing his jacket back to you when you tried to give it back. "Use it in front of your parents; maybe like that, they'll start getting the idea that you'll soon also become part of the criminal life." He joked.

"I'll see you soon." You asked, hoping that Seungcheol didn't hear the hope in your voice.

"Sure, Wonwoo wants to try his motorcycles tonight; you can join us. Who knows? Maybe next time you'll be robbing banks."

You laughed, remembering the time you told Seungcheol what your father had said about Seungcheol's friends and their motorcycles.

"Yeah, maybe." You joked back.

And then the cycle began again.

You were dancing around your bedroom.

Wondered if he was blushing in his bedroom thinking about last night as well.

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lunarw0rks · 8 months

Note

please tell me i’m not the only one who thinks soap would be horny at the WRONG times?

like let’s say you’re hosting your very first end of the year bbq and you invite your close friends, the task force, + los vaqueros. you’re excited because you just had moved into your first house as well.

all is good until good until soap starts getting needy, purposely brushing up against your backside whenever he passes by, mumbling the most sarcastic ‘oops my bad’. he even says something along the lines of ‘sending everyone back home so we could have some alone time’ and plays it off as a joke but you know he’s being serious 💀 like that man does NOT CARE, he’ll take you in the bathroom if he has to.

a/n: naur, you're onto something anon. I always picture Soap as a horny bastard; not much restraint in his not-so-little body. got a little carried away on this, lol. warning(s): nsfw, horny stuff, fem!reader

imagine you bought a house together and the nice idea of throwing a little housewarming party, for him, for you — inviting his co-workers and some friends of your own. he insisted a thousand times that you didn't have to invite them; but only because of all the embarrassing stories they were going to tell you about your boyfriend.

but, when all was said and done, it was a great gathering. you did it all yourself — the meals, the decor, the staging of your newly purchased outdoor furniture — everything. it was alluring to Soap, how frazzled and insistent on "perfection" you were. though, you heard about a thousand times, that they would eat anything you put in front of them.

when you two sat around the fire, gaz asked how you two planned on celebrating the new house once the festivities died down. an innocent question; but it sparked in your boyfriend's mind. "aye, we'll find a way to celebrate, that's for sure. jus' gotta make sure the timing's right," he played it off with a chuckle, but there was no mistaking how flustered it made you.

it was going perfectly, or as perfect as a party with these people could be. a lengthy dinner in the backyard, endless conversations, and a little too much indulgence in the booze for some of them. "great party, great house. should have you decorate the base sometime, eh? if it's half as nice, it'll help with morale." price commented as he talked to you and him.

Soap's arm remained around your shoulder, your waist, or anywhere throughout the night. you didn't think anything of it, frankly, you were too laser-focused — until his neediness grew. brushing against your backside, a caress on your thigh lingering, a small wink when the guests weren't focused on you.

some went off to the side to smoke, and others remained on the patio to continue their conversations. by now, it was time to get the mess cleaned up. plates, cups, wrappers, empty bottles, and the other trash that had accumulated.

"i'll help you with that, love. you've done enough tonight, haven't ye?" he approached after dismissing himself, grabbing the second stack of silverware and following you inside. Soap finally had his opportunity to seize what he desired, when he knew the party was much less alive, much less prying eyes on you two.

you stepped inside from the patio, him closing the sliding door behind you. dumping the plates into the sink, you turned on the faucet with the intention of beginning a long night of clean-up duty. his hand reached around you, turning off the faucet, "not what i meant by helpin' you, lass. c'mon," he motioned his head in the direction of the hall.

you took one more look out the window, seeing the preoccupied guests, most paying little mind to your guys' close proximity in your new kitchen. why the hell not? might as well cross the guest bathroom off your list of "places we've had sex in our new home" — right?

before the door even closes, he's hiked up the hem of your evening dress, shoving his hand down the waistband of your panties. Soap ends up fucking you senseless on the bathroom counter, gagging you with his fingers in case any of his co-workers came inside the house to grab another chilled drink. you were only a few feet from the kitchen, it was the definition of risky.

mid-thrust, there was a soft knock. price, goddamn price. "everything alright in there, sweetheart?"

even with his superior on the other side of a door, about a foot away, did Soap stop? no, of course not. he slowed down but never stopped. he removed his fingers from your mouth, biting his lip to mock you that look in your eyes, whilst they shot open in a frenzy. you cleared your throat to conceal a moan, using every ounce of strength to not feel Soap bottoming out over and over again. "uh, just a— just a little wine on my dress, John. no worries!"

as soon as price's steps retreated down the hall, Soap's ragged, growly breaths resumed. in a split second, his ruts went from mockingly slow, back to a relentless pounding.

before there was any chance of another interruption, he finished with a sneer on his face. "wine on the dress, eh? smart girl. i like that." he heaved against your lips, gently wiping any mess that smudged on your lips. you were livid, despite coming down from your own high. a palm smacked his chest repeatedly until he shut your heated whispers up with a hundred pecks across your jaw and mouth.

Soap walks outside first, blaming the lost time on him fishing through the moving boxes for a Tupperware you needed. whether it was believable or not, that was up for debate. the sweat lingering on his brow, the afterglow of sex on his face? unmistakable.

now, you've either have to splash water on your dress to imitate where you would've scrubbed a wine stain off. or... just, walk on out of there like you hadn't just been fucked stupid — with trembling legs, naturally.

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whatlovelybones-if · 4 months

Note

"the screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain" THE WHAT?! YOU DARE AVERY??? AND WTF J???

What would happen if MC and J were about to kiss, but MC suddenly stopped and just apathetically stared at them and said that they resented them for not being their first kiss, and just left? 😂😂

(Also, did MC have a some sort of relationship before the story began, or is that left for headcannon?)

it started with a simple statement.

“i won’t be riding back with you today,” J said.

you didn’t mind, not really. of course, you used to take every opportunity to spend time with them, but you could understand that they had their own life and sometimes their plans didn’t line up with yours.

“anything special you got planned?” you joked while closing your school locker, but you feel your insides wither and shrivel like a crumpled flower when they give you the actual reason.

“avery wanted to take me home today,” J said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal but the embarrassed pink on their cheeks give them away.

you had a feeling whatever was going to happen today, you wouldn’t be liking it at all. on top of that, J was acting weird as hell. not to mention that this avery person had been someone they’d been weirdly close the past couple of days.

you also happen to know that avery lived on the other side of town, completely off the route you and J took to get home every day. avery wasn’t just giving them a ride; it was something else. the more you thought about it, the more it sounded like a date. a motherfucking date.

you felt your heart starting to weigh three times heavier as you forced a smile and said, “oh, sure, that’s fine.” and then, before you could stop yourself, you found yourself stupidly asking, “so did they ask you out on a date or something?”

to save yourself the embarrassment and act nonchalant, you find yourself ruffling their hair slightly. if J noticed that you were forcing it, they didn’t let it show. instead they just laughed nervously, trying to fix their hair, and said, “actually, i was the one who ended up asking them out.”

wonderful. you wanted to scream, but you managed to give them the fakest smile you could. “i’m so happy for you.”

J picked up on the hint that maybe you weren’t feeling as happy as you’re saying you are because they asked, “are you alright, teddy?”

that nickname hurts even more now as you nod, “of course, why wouldn’t i be?”

one of J’s love languages has always been physical touch and everything just gets a lot more complicated; their hand on your back is warm, the inky dark eyes that stare back at you are kind and worried, the full pink lips that you wish to kiss look so inviting. they smell the same as always: leather, strawberries, spearmint, and marlboro red smoke masked by a fancy cologne/perfume.

“did i do something wrong?” J asks, looking like a kicked puppy.

you can’t stand it. the concerned look on J’s face as they ask you what’s wrong when everything is wrong right now. it’s wrong that they can’t see how much you love them. it’s wrong that they can’t see how loving them has become second nature for you. it’s wrong that they can’t see how you don’t want to be just their best friend.

knowing them, you know your best friend is probably imagining a thousand different scenarios of how they must’ve hurt you. but you know that they didn’t hurt you, they could never do that, at least not intentionally.

then you do it. you actually do it. one of the stupidest things you have ever done in your 15 years of existence.

you leaned in and kissed them.

the look on J’s face makes you wanna crawl into your own skin and die. their body had tensed up, their lips frozen open, parted but not uttering a sound. all of that was enough to tell you that it was fucking mistake. so you do the only thing that made sense to you at that moment: you turn and run outside like a fucking coward.

time seemed to slow down, each second stretching impossibly beyond normal. the only sound that could be heard was the rain. heavy, rhythmic, and coming down without pause. you don’t even feel the chill setting in as your whole body burns with the shame of what you did and the image of J’s reaction only makes your skin crawl more.

stupid, stupid, stupid!

you run across the parking lot to get to your car and book the hell out of the school campus. you utter a loud curse when you check your pockets and realise you left your car keys in your locker.

you’re soaked to the bone and you aim a swift kick at your car; panting like you just ran a marathon, hair sticking to your neck and cheeks, heavy breathing pushing your chest up and down, your face wet from both the rain and your tears.

tears? no, you’re not wrong, you can feel the saltiness mixing up with the rain and pouring down your face. you haven’t cried in forever. at least not in a genuine way.

why in the world did it have to J of all people that you had to fall for? they had been your best friend since you were kids, always a constant and comforting presence in your life. almost a decade of friendship down the drain because of your stupid feelings. it wasn’t worth it at all to lose your best friend like this.

your best friend who’s now calling your name. a yell in the distance muffled by the sound of the rain and of your breaking heart. your breath hitches but you ignore them. there’s no way you can face them, not right now.

“for god’s sake, you can’t just kiss me and walk away! hey!” J yells out.

“go away, J! i really don’t want to talk to you right now.”

they catch up to you, refusing to let you run off again. “and why is that, hm?”

“i don’t know!” you answer, throwing up your hands in exasperation. “i’m ignoring you right now.”

“well,” J continues to stubbornly come closer, “i am ignoring the fact that you’re ignoring me.”

you give them a glare. “that’s not how it works.”

J matches your challenging glare. “fine then. tell me why you kissed me and i will leave you alone.”

“i kissed you because i love you, you daft dumbo!” you nearly yell, frustrated beyond reason. ignoring the dumbfounded look on J’s face, you continue, “i’ve loved you ever since we were kids. i love your eyes and how they sparkle like stars when you’re talking about music. i love your voice and how it soothes me whenever i’m having a hard time. i love how you know me and know exactly what to say to make me feel better whenever and wherever. i just love you so much and i cannot stand the thought of you with avery. i will get over this though, J, just give me some ti—”

in a heartbeat, they lean in and their lips are on yours. you can’t help the gasp which slips out of your mouth, too surprised, too tense, and J holds your face dearly like you’re something precious, pressing your lips and body against theirs with something akin to desperation. both of you so entirely soaked from the rain, so entirely frightened, so entirely in love.

when the kiss ends, it’s because both of you are completely out of breath. J doesn’t let the space between the two of you grow any further, though. they instead press themselves further against you, your bodies fitting like perfect puzzle pieces.

“don’t get over me,” they plead, the taste of strawberry in your mouth, forehead against yours, dark eyes fluttering close. “don’t ever get over me.”

“b-but,” you stutter, head still spinning, “what about avery?”

J groans, following it up with a chuckle. “one date and i think even they’d be able to see it.”

“see what?”

“how you are the one i’m in love with.”

before you can even process what they just said, they lean in again to seal it with a kiss.

#asks #wow this was longer than i’d planned #an AU where everything went perfectly and they were high school sweethearts?#this is my late christmas gift to J romancers #also yeah you can headcanon if MC has dated someone in the past #what lovely bones #ro: j park #bonnie nonnie #ro scenarios #interactive fiction #interactive story #ch: the killer #interactive game #ignore the typos lmao 💀

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spiderlyla · 9 months

Text

Tensions — Miguel O'Hara

🕸summery: your tense relationship with your boss is blooming into something you two refuse to give into.

🕸tags: miguel o'hara × fem!reader. reader is implied to be shorter than miguel. lots of tension, part two is out now.

🕸a.n: this was inspired by @general-dweebous 's idea of Miguel having an Anthony bridgerton-esque tension before having a full blown confession. will be taking inspiration from the lake scene and the lavender soap scene from bridgertone. hope you enjoy!

Miguel O'Hara and you are not friends, that was clear from the start.

You thought him an oaf, harsh and unforgiving, a man with a rage inside him that burned within his core like a thousand suns. He was impatient, barely listened, denied any help offered to him. The words 'world's greatest brain' on his mug seemed so odd to you, considering how idiotic you thought he is.

He did not like you either. He thought you reckless, stubborn, always speaking what's on your mind and standing up to him when no one ever dared. Having you in a meeting guaranteed him a headache. You were harsh with him, lenient on others. You never liked him, he never liked you. Nothing ever was going to change your minds. He was unredeemable to you, you were unbearable to him.

Sure. You'd find yourself staring at him. At his plump lips when he talked, at his condescendingly beautiful ruby eyes, at his nose that he scrunched up whenever he was irritated. You'd find yourself staring whenever he runs his hands through his dark locks, pushing back his stupidly soft hair out of his forehead. You'd find yourself staring at his body, his slim waist and broad shoulders, staring at how his muscles and abs ripped and moved underneath the tight fabric, at how anything looked small when held in his big palms.

And yes, sure, Miguel couldn't deny the way he looked at you when you walked into the room. The way he'd glance at your lips when you were berating him, the way he'd glance back into your eyes, momentarily holding your gaze. He couldn't deny the way he looked at you when you brushed past him, at how tight your suit was around your curves, the way his eyes would droop to stare at your hips when you moved, the way he'd clam up and sweat after you'd accidently touched him.

But that didn't mean anything. To either of you. Miguel O'Hara was always going to be a prick, you were always going to be a pain in his ass.

"You two are very similar, you know?" One of the Peters once said while the two of you were arguing. Miguel's head snapped towards him, you sneered and rolled your eyes.

"We are nothing alike." You said in the same breath, before the both of you took off grumbling under your breaths.

His relationship with you was unchanging, even if you two were great work partners. The way you two worked together always guaranteed a successful mission. You were delicate and graceful, a good negotiator. You'd lead the anomaly right into the trap Miguel had set up for them, you'd have have them exhaust themselves to the brink, and that's when he would go in for the final blow.

It was a running joke in HQ by now that the two of you are utterly inlove with one another, just too prideful to actually admit it. When asked about it, the two of you had different things to say.

"Okay, LYLA here! Just wanted to ask you about the rumor that you and Miguel are actually inlove!"

"Inlove? With that—With that dickhead? Is everyone out of their minds? If he was the last man on earth, I would never love him—Jeez, LYLA!"

"Hey boss, did you hear the new rumor?"

"Where are the tabs I asked you to open."

"There are rumors that you are inlove with—"

"I know about the rumor, LYLA. Now, could you please—"

"What's your opinion about it?"

"Sin comentarios." [No comment]

This rumor began to fade away little by little when you were seen hanging around Webslinger. Miguel noticed that you were almost always in a good mood if you were sent with him on a mission, or if you sat with him during tasks. It was good that you were getting off his back, he was suppose to feel relieved, but all he could really feel, was this nagging twig in his chest. Like something was tugging on his heart. You started asking him if he could send the two of you on more missions together, and begrudgingly, he would, but just so he could hear your stupid voice yelling at him when he critiqued you for being slippery, always saying that if he was there, the mission would've had no faults.

"Oh, why is that?" You once spat out at him, folding your arms over your chest, your beautiful eyes narrowing at him. "Is it because you're so good that no one does anything better than you? Patrick and I are compe—"

The phrase 'Patrick and I' made his heart clench, for no apparent reason. "It's because you and I make a good team. Always have. I'm simply stating the truth. It's not a matter of pride." He rolled his eyes, and you started arguing with him again. You hadn't argued with him for weeks when that happened, and for some odd reason, Miguel felt satisfied when he saw you marching out of the room, angrily mumbling and cussing him out.

"Yeah, boss, gotta say this isn't healthy." LYLA appeared by his shoulder, painting her nails. "You could just admit that you like her—"

"I don't." His hand moved to swish her away, causing her virtual nail polish to 'fall'. "Hey——Then why do you care so much if she goes with Webslinger or not? They make a good team too, never failed a mission together—"

"Its about efficiency, LYLA."

"They seem pretty efficient together."

"Can you—" He shot her a look, noticing how smudge she was about it. "Can you not."

LYLA just shrugged and continued to polish her nails. This game of back and forth with the two of you went on and on, with Miguel and you head-butting more often than not. You spent all your time with Patrick and your friendgroup, not even attending meetings Miguel spesfically made so the two of you could argue even more.

"If that's your love language," Jessica said, "Then honestly, I'm not surprised she doesn't want to speak with you."

"It's not a love—" Miguel groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "I just want her to care about her tasks like she used to. Pay attention to them."

"Pay attention to you, you mean."

"Por el amor de Dios—" [For the love of God]

And when a month passed without Miguel nagging you or bothering you, you started to get a bit shifty. He rarely even put you on missions with him, not bothering to invite you to meetings useless to you like he used to. You were glad he got you off the hook, but it wasn't just that. He was avoiding you, and it became pretty obvious even when you were in the same room as him.

Something changed about him.

He stole glances at you but would look away as soon as you looked up, he'd not engage in the conversation if you happened to be standing, he wouldn't even respond if you barked an insult at him.

"Why are you doing that?" You said to him, finding him standing alone on his platform. He tried to walk away, but soon realised you'd put him in a corner. "Doing what?" He asked, putting down the rapture vile on his desk. "You're....not bothering me as much."

"You asked to not be bothered."

"And you listened."

"Are you upset that I did as you wanted for once?"

"I'm surprised you did as I wanted. Since when do you listen?"

"Since when do you care?"

He took a step towards you, and you towards him. His chest bumped against your nose, and be leaned down, eyebrows knit closely. He finally met your eyes, having been avoiding your eye contact all night. His irsis were cloudy, something was on his mind. Something was brewing beneath the surface, the way he was looking at you was not what you were used to. "I...I don't." You whispered out. Your nose was filled with the scent of his minty cologne, your body heated up. Miguel shuffled in place, his eyes trailing from your eyes to your lips. He leaned in further, you could swear you felt his lips brush against yours. An electrifying spark pulled you away from the trance you were under, and it seemed it had gotten to Miguel too. He straightened up, clearing his throat.

"What do you want then?" He asked, now completely avoiding your gaze. You looked at the ground, frowning. "I want to be included in missions and meetings again."

"Ah, the work you neglected? You are remembering it now?"

"Oh, I was doing work, you know that, you put me in Tech and I went on all those missions with—" You paused, hearing a low sound. When you looked up, Miguel's lips were curled up into a small grin, his fangs protruding just a bit from the corners of his mouth. He was chuckling.

You folded your arms over your chest, biting the corner of your mouth to stop yourself from smiling. "You...You said that on purpose. To piss me off."

"Yo no." [I did not]

"Don't give me that."

"It isn't my fault you can't control your anger."

"Oh, Oh, Who's speaking?"

"Ay, por dios, eres tan atrevido. Just leave." [You're so sassy]

"Whatever."

You rolled your eyes and turned around, jumping off the platform and heading to the door.

"Hey," His baritone voice echoed through the room, you stopped in your tracks. "It's good to have you back." The smile you've been hiding all this time spread wide across your face, as you continued to angrily march towards the door.

That man drove you absolutely mad.

"I'll see you at Jess's welcome baby shower."

a.n: hi! you can check out more of my writings on my main blog: @spider999sposts :)

#spiderman 2099 x reader #spider man atsv #spiderman into the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o hara x reader #astv #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #spiderman 2099 #spider999sposts

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lovifie · 3 months

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Her Royal Highness Pt.4

Masterlist

Prologue — Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4

“Mornin’ Princess.” Soap is the first one to see you arrive at the courtyard. He looks at you with a cheeky smile as always.

“Good morning, Johnny.” You greet him smiling as you jog a bit to stand next to him close to the light torch next to the door.

The sun is still not meant to be out for another couple of hours, but because the castle is so far away from the next town, the king decided to leave so early to make it there by nightfall. Last night you packed all your most liked clothes for the travel, leaving out the warmest dress with the warmest cape you owned. But still, being used to being sheltered inside of the castle, the chilling cold of the early hours was enough to make you shake. Soap is quick to take notice of this because he adjusts your cape closing it around you and stroking your arms up and down to warm you up.

“Ar’ ye shaking cause ye cold or cause ye excited to finally be leaving the castle?” He asks smiling, his breath being visible but he remains apparently unaffected by the temperature.

“Both, but mostly the cold.” You admit with a shaky breath. “Where is the Prince?”

“Aw, lovebird dyin’ to see her man.” Soap jokes faking a pout and earning a slap to the arm. “C’mon, I'll take you with him. Take my hand, o’ ye'll fly away.”

You stare confused for a second, wondering if he is joking again. That is, until he opens the door and you feel the cold wind. You quickly hold his hand and stand close to his back so he can shield you from the wind.

If you thought it was cold inside of the castle, you were wrong. And the frozen wind reminds you, feeling like a thousand needles make their way inside your bone. Soap and you soon arrive at the carriage you assume you will be travelling with Ghost, and you pop your head over Soap's shoulder to check who’s there.

Gaz, Price, Ghost and Laswell look back at you. You notice Ghost looking at you up and down from behind the helmet he is wearing, but before you can say anything Laswell speaks.

“Good morning, Princess. Glad I could see you before you left, I was just explaining to Kyle some of the care required for your wound.” She says as she walks up to you and places her hands on your cheeks. “God gracious, child. You are freezing, get inside quickly. I'll see you when you get back.”

She gives you a quick hug with a smile before going back inside the castle, to keep sleeping most likely. You try to turn to the carriage when the cape gets stuck on something opening and leaving you exposed to the cold. When you turn to check it, you realize that is a who and not a thing on what the cape got stuck.

“What kind of shitty cape is this?” Ask Ghost as he plays with the material in his hand. “No wonder you are shaking like a leaf.”

The tone of his voice is of annoyance, making you feel ashamed of having a completely natural reaction to the weather. But when you are going to complain that you can’t help it, he lets go of your cape and moves his hand to undo the clasp keeping his on.

He takes it off himself and smoothly drapes it over your shoulder putting the hood over your head as well. The click of the clasp makes you look down at his hands, noticing they are so close to your face, almost touching you.

You look up from under the hood and make eye contact with him. The words suddenly die in your throat and blood rushes to your cheeks as he quickly adverts your gaze clearing his throat. “Get inside.” He says putting a hand on your lower back and opening the door. He lowers the hand a bit more and pushes you inside with a single hand on your butt.

You are met with a closed door when you try to protest and redeem yourself sitting down close to the door. You play with your hands as you wait for something else to happen trying to listen to anything outside. Keeping the cape close to your body you bend yourself to try and get your ear closer to the door. Almost touching it with your cheek, finally being able to hear the footsteps going away and the voices getting more and more silent.

“What are you doing?” A deep voice grumbles behind you and the surprise makes you stumble forward almost falling from your seat.

“Nothing.” You say quickly as you play with the fur on the cape trying to act completely relaxed with the fact he just caught you being nosy.

A low chuckle can be heard erupt from the Prince as he sits next to you shaking the carriage with his size. Even though you are sitting next to the door, his sheer size makes it impossible to not brush against your knees with his. He knocks twice on the door and almost instantly the horses begin to walk moving the carriage. Next, he sits even more relaxed on his side of the carriage, takes off his mask and crosses his arms getting ready to sleep.

Him taking off the mask mere seconds after beginning the travel was not the first thing you were expecting. So you can't help it but to look at his face, especially since he has his eyes closed and can see that you are looking at him. Surrounding his eyes is some kind of grease or black paint that blends up to his eyebrow. Blonde curls, long enough only to be able to tell they are curls, frame his face in contrast to the rest of him.

He is handsome.

Your soon-to-be husband is handsome.

“Is rude to stare.” A brown eye opens and looks at you, making you whip your head to face the front of the carriage.

“Sorry.” You answer quickly. “Was just surprised.”

“Why?” He said closing his eyes again.

“Because you look good… I mean, you look fine, like, I don't know, I thought you had something you wanted to hide, but everything about your face is fine. Like, you are fine. You look good.” You start mumbling without knowing where to look and end up looking out the window. “How much longer until the next stop?”

A chuckle from the Prince makes you look back at him and when you turn your face you come face to face with him, being a lot more close to your face and keeping eye contact with you as feel one of his arms rest over your shoulder.

“You think I look good, Princess?” He said with his face almost touching yours, so close you feel his breath over your lips. His other hand comes to your neck and undoes the clasp on his cape, you stay making eye contact as you feel the fur fall off your shoulder. With a smooth motion, he manages to take the cape away from you, barely moving you. Then, as easy as he got on your face he gets away taking his cape back. He lays back again and pulls the cape over himself as a blanket.

“There are still at least 8 hours until the next stop, you should rest.” He says smirking and goes back to the position he was before.

You turn back to the door and hug yourself trying to keep warm, but you only feel the heat of your embarrassment.

————————————————————————

There is shouting outside of the carriage when you wake up, so many voices but still unable to figure out what they are saying. Simon must have left the carriage before you woke up, and only his cape draped over you remains.

The unmistakable sound of blades being drawn bolts you awake and you open the door stepping outside. All the men that came with the carriage, ready to attack whoever was brave enough to stop the convoy.

“I have already said that you cannot get through the border, they are closed until there are explicit orders from the next in line. The King is dead, and the kingdom is mourning. So get back to wherever the fuck you are coming, and wait. What is so hard to understand?” The voice from someone you don't know says.

“And I, have already said that we are the next in line. So get out of the way, we need to make it to Auntry City before midday and we are going behind.” The King Price argues back. “So unless you want to get hurt, move!”

“If you want to get through, it will be inside of a coffin, Sir.” The guard says.

You can see the blade being drawn over the heads and it makes you gasp, surprising Ghost who whips his head back (covered with the mask again) and you see the shock in his eyes when he sees you.

“Get back inside!” Ghost barks looking at you over his shoulder just for a second before looking back at the front, but you stay put, curiosity for knowing who is on the other side being too tempting. “Princess, get the fuck inside!”

At the mention of your royal title, begins a round of whispers and mumbles. You are finally able to see who the other people are, and you realize they are your late father's guards, positioned at the border of the town where the castle is located to make sure he knew who entered.

You manage to make your way through the wall of men, and just when you are almost through a hand you recognise as the Prince’s, grabs your arm ready to throw you back inside the carriage. But before he can, you make eye contact with who, if you don't remember wrong, is the captain of the guards.

His eyes widen in shock upon seeing you, and he quickly kneels before you, the rest of the guards following shortly. “My most sincerest apologies, your Royal Highness. We didn't know you were travelling with them, I ask in the name of my men for your forgiveness.”

The same face of absolute incredulity is plastered on you and on the men around you. You quickly smile back at the king over your shoulder, almost like trying to say: “Look how much they like me! Look how different they are treating us now! Look how much I just helped you! Look how much they prefer me over you!”

You turn your head back to the captain kneeling before you, still looking down almost afraid to make eye contact with you again. You lay your hand on his shoulder and when he timidly looks up, you give him your most sincere smile. “Everything is forgiven, captain. You were just following orders.”

“Thank you, princess.” He answers fast, surprisingly relieved to have been forgiven. There is a voice of alarm in your head, that makes you remember what Laswell told you about your father being a bad king.

The guard shouldn't have been so scared of you, you remember him. From so many years ago, you would hide behind your mother's skirt when he would come to update your parents on the new visitors. He would always give you a small smile.

So it wouldn't make sense for that man to be scared of the little girl hiding behind his mon, and he should be scared of you now.

The guard picks up your hand for his shoulder and kisses it on the knuckles. He stands to his full height, the size difference making you feel uneasy about his fear of you. “Princess, allow some of my men and I to escort you into town. As an apology. In case you came into trouble of the remain of the travel.”

“There really is no need, Sir.” You say and you can see the guilt behind his eyes. “But I will accept your offer. Should we keep going, then?”

You turn around to look at the King, and for a second, you see something on his expression that you are not able to read, but the moment he realizes you are looking at him, his expression changes. It softens.

“I will get my men ready, your Royal Highness.” The guard says, kneeling quickly before standing again and turning back to his team.

You turn back to the king, walking a couple of steps that separate you. You notice his gaze following you, and you keep eye contact until you are face-to-face with him. You motion him to bend down so you can actually be at the same height, and he obliges, curiosity taking the best of him. You move closer to the side of his head and whisper in his ear smiling: “Aren't you glad that I tagged along, your majesty?”

Before he can answer, you begin to move back to the carriage; taking a quick last glance, you notice Gaz laughing softly just in time to see the King slapping his arm with a cheeky smile on his face.

You sit on the carriage, closing the door and taking a deep breath.

What the fuck just happened?!

Having to act as an actual monarch is not something you are used to, you have been trained to do so, but never really needed to do it. Mainly resorting to being your father's shadow and echo, always present but never in sight.

And the braveness to talk like that to the king? Of course, you talk back to him in the castle, but that's different! In the castle, you can always run to Laswell or Farah, or basically anyone. But here? You are basically alone, with the King John Price, the Prince Simon, the knight Gaz and Soap and the rest of Price's guard. They don't owe you loyalty, they don't owe you anything.

If the King told them, you will be dead in minutes, no second thought.

“You ‘right?” The Prince asks when he sits next to you, again, too late to hear him coming and only noticing him when he is already seated and removing his mask.

“Yeah! I'm peachy.” You answer letting a sight escape your lips.

“Seems like it.” The Prince laughs softly but without pushing more. “We are a little less than an hour away from Auntry City. You may want to undo some knots.”

You frown at his word and follow his gaze, noticing that he is looking at your hair. You raise your hand to reach the top of your head and notice the unflattering way it is sitting. And slowly it downs on you.

“What must have that guard think of the Princess? Coming out of the carriage she is sharing with a man, hair looking a mess, wearing said man cape…” The Prince chastises his tongue shaking his head in a disapproving manner. “What an improper Princess.”

“Oh, shut up!” You say feeling the heat get to your face as you hear the Prince chuckle. “It's obvious I was just sleeping.”

“You sure about that, luv?” He says resting his chin on his hand, index finger extended to hide his smile behind as he raises an eyebrow.

You whip your head around ignoring him, looking into the pockets inside of your own cape, you pick up the comb and start easing it through your hair. Once satisfied, you braid a couple of locks away from your face; as you braid them, you hold them with your lips to keep them from un-braiding themselves.

Until…

You feel a pair of fingertips graze your lips, caressing your top lip slowly.

“I can hold it for you, Princess.” The Prince asks when you turn to look at him. Your jaw goes slack, mostly from the shock but still effective to let go of the braid letting it fall on Simon's hand. “Atta girl.”

If he says anything else after that, only he will know. Because the only thing you are able to hear anymore, is your blood rushing through your ears. Feeling your heartbeat on your throat, and warm simmer down your body to the bottom of your stomach.

Moving your focus to your hair, you braid quickly the rest of the little braids, leaving them on Simon's hand as you go trying to not touch him directly. Once satisfied with the amount of braids, you pick them back up and join them at the back of your head on a braid-like conjuncture, combing one last time the rest of your hair out of the braids.

Looking down, you try to put the comb away, but once again, Simon's hand find its way around your neck. This time, grabbing your jaw to make you look away from you.

He hums as he draws circles on your jaw with his thumb and looks at your hair. “Quite pretty.” He admits and move your hair again to look back at him. “Quite pretty indeed.”

There is a mischievous glint in his eyes that makes you feel trapped like a mouse in front of a cat. The air in the carriage begins to feel heavy, and the carriage itself feels smaller with each passing second.

And almost like it was meant to be, the coachman stops the horses and the second the carriage stops moving, you jump off trying to take in the very much-needed air.

“Damn, lassie, Ghostie here has ye losing yer breath?” Soap asks as he walks up to the carriage and sticks his head inside sending a wink to the Prince. “Cheeky bastard, can't wait for the honeymoon.”

“That’ll do.” The Prince says behind you smiling at Soap.

You huff a breath looking around and that's when you notice the King looking at you and calling you closer. You walk up to him and look at his face, not seeing any of the anger and displeasure you have grown used to.

“Yes, your Majesty?” You ask, more curious than scared for the first time you talk to him.

“The owner of the local inn has heard about you coming and has offered us enough rooms for everyone. Simon and you in different rooms, we don't want any scandals do we?” He asks smiling softly.

“I would very much like my own room, thanks.” You answer ignoring his innuendos.

“Lovely, they are getting ready a feast for everyone. It seems like they are very excited to meet you, that's why we are spending the night here. Anything you want… ask anyone, I'm pretty sure they will be gladly to help.” He says pointing to the inn with his head. “Oh, and Princess… I wanted to remind you, that we are more powerful together than against each other, all right? Keep it in mind.”

He picks up your hand, giving you a quick kiss on your knuckle without breaking eye contact and without another word, makes his way inside the inn.

The first stop of the travel, and you are ready to go back home.

Hi, lovies!! 💗

How are you? I finally figure it out how to add the Keep Reading thingy and the link for the other chapters, I hope it'll be more comfortable now.

I'm finally letting reader interact with Ghostie, let me know you guys opinions.

Thanks for reading! Have a nice weekend!

Tag List: @kristalhi @strawberrygato @ghostlythots @dumybitch

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girls-alias · 4 months

Text

Caught - Demon Dean Winchester

Title: Caught - Demon Dean Winchester Words: 5,109 Relations: Demon Dean Winchester X reader. TW: Smut, rough, Threatened SH, SPOILERS.

@angelofdarkness69 asked:

Demon Dean Smut 😈❤️‍🔥😈❤️‍🔥

I walked into the bunker, slightly out of breath as I rushed here. Sam had called me but I was away from my phone. He left a message where he sounded completely panicked, he said that I was needed at the bunker and that it was about Dean. I dropped everything I was doing to rush there.

I stumbled down the stairs, looking frantically into rooms as I rushed down the hallways.

"Sam?" I called out, looking around and wondering what was going on.

"Y/N," Dean's voice spoke behind me. I spun around instantly relieved. He's okay, he's alive. Why did Sam call me? I smiled brightly, backtracking to run to him. He was holding a hammer for some reason and watched me a little confused. He dropped the hammer happily accepting my hug. I smiled brightly, hugging him as tight as I could knowing the whole 3 hours drive it took me to get here I thought Dean was dead or was dying. Tears escaped my eyes the whole way here. I must look pathetic, I barely see them all year and now I show up crying and most likely completely overreacting.

"Oh, my God. Dean I thought you were dead," I commented, pulling away to smile at him. He seemed to study me a little longer than a normal person would. The thing is, I am crazy about Dean and can never tell if he likes me as more of an acquaintance. I raised an eyebrow waiting for him to say something. He smirked, my mood instantly lifting just from the sight. I have never seen anyone ever look at good as Dean. I've seen a lot of hot men in my life but none of them are anything compared to Dean.

"Why'd you think I was dead?" He asked, a smirk still present on his lips. I chuckled softly, a little awkwardly.

"Sam left me a message saying there was something wrong and it was about you," I explained and he nodded, taking in my words.

"And you drove straight here, crying the whole time?" He seemed to ask but his voice was flat. I chuckled dryly. Wiping under my eyes to hide some of the evidence of my emotional state from earlier.

"Well, yeah. I thought you were dead. I was mourning," I sassed but his smirk grew, eyes looking deeper into mine than they normally did. Maybe something is wrong with Dean. I grew suspicious.

"I wouldn't mourn you," He stated simply, I shook my head with a scoff. Smiling as I watched him study my expression.

"I don't doubt it, you're like a robot without feelings," I joked, he pulled a face as if he was proud of it. My eyebrows furrowed slightly, he didn't have a snarky remark to come back with, there had to be something wrong.

"I would agree but I have some emotions," He replied as if the answer was simple but I looked at him confused. He's being serious, what's he saying? He smirked watching me. "Like right now I feel like kissing you, seeing which room it leads to," He commented. My breath hitched in my throat. He wants to kiss me?! I parted my lips to say something but nothing came to mind. He smirked, stepping closer to me. I backed away, instincts telling me that something was wrong, my inside begging to see what would happen. He continued smirking, advancing till my back hit a wall. He grinned when I had nowhere to go.

He continued towards me, closing the distance till he was practically pressed against me. I gulped studying his eyes as I internally begged him to kiss me like I always did around him. He leaned down, hand on the back of my neck. He pulled me in the rest of the way till our lips crashed together. He kissed me roughly. I had imagined kissing Dean thousands of times but I never imagined it being like this. It was almost as if he needed to kiss me or he wouldn't live another day. I placed a hand on his chest while the other found the back of his hair. He smirked against my lips, his tongue sliding into my mouth with ease.

Butterflies flew through my veins, my whole body melting into the kiss. His hands held me roughly, the hand on the back of my neck keeping me close, a hand on my waist holding my body against his. I moaned softly as he held me tighter.

A whirling sound echoed through the halls before a small siren sounded. Dean didn't seem to care as he didn't react to the sound. I pulled away, looking down the hall as the lights dimmed and turned red. I looked back at Dean confused. He looked emotionless. My eyebrows furrowed as to why he seemed indifferent about the lights and loss of power. I opened my mouth, about the speak.

"Y/N!" Sam shouted, I looked down the hall as Dean did the same. Dean smirked at him. "Demon," He announced pointing at Dean. I quickly looked at Dean as he smirked and flashed his black-covered eyes at me. I punched him as hard as I could, his hands falling from my body as he held his cheek. I ran to Sam watching slightly as Dean looked pissed.

I ran with Sam through the halls, Dean wasn't running. Strolling casually. "You could have warned me," I argued quietly as he guided me through the halls.

"I didn't have time," Sam tried but I scoffed.

"It takes two seconds to say the word demon," I argued. He shushed me as we turned a corner and he stopped me. We listened closely as Dean walked around, a raised voice as he taunted Sam with how he escaped. I'm a little lost about what happened but there is a demon in Dean and that's my only concern right now.

"Dean is the demon, it's not a possession it's Dean," Sam whispered. I looked at him baffled.

"What the fuck? Why didn't you call me earlier?" I asked, fighting my wish to scream at him.

"I thought I had a handle on it," Sam shrugged not believing himself. I rolled my eyes with a sigh.

"Clearly," I whispered back, sassing him with sarcasm. I swear, these boys get dumber and dumber every time I see them. Sam looked at me uneasy as the power came on. I rolled my eyes as he rushed around the corner and closed the door to the electrical room where Dean was.

"Really, that's your big move?" Dean's voice was slightly muffled by the door but he showed no emotions in his tone. Why did he kiss me? I understand that he was probably messing with me but he had the perfect opportunity to kill me and he didn't. It's just weird.

"Listen to me. We were getting close, Okay?" Sam explained through the door. I rolled my eyes knowing he was a hopeless fool thinking he could talk this out with him. He doesn't have a soft spot he can get through to... Or maybe? No that's stupid. But.... No. Okay, maybe. "I know you're still in there somewhere. Just let me finish the treatments," I thought quickly as Sam waited for a response as if we didn't all know the answer was going to be violence. "Dean?" Sam jumped back as a heavy thud hit the door. I rolled my eyes.

"You act like I want to be cured," Dean grunted as he broke the door down from the inside. I took a deep breath, knowing I was either going to die here or live long enough to do something incredibly stupid and then die in this bunker. "Personally, I like the disease," Dean smirked evilly through the hole in the door he had created. My heart races. Mentally preparing for my own stupidity.

"Dean, stop that. Look I don't want to use this blade on you," Sam shouted, trying to gain some control of the situation.

"Oh, that sucks for you, doesn't it?" He asked sarcastically. "Cause you really mean that," He chuckled before slamming a hammer into the door again.

"If you come out of that room I won't have a choice," Sam tried, trying to sound strong.

"Sure you will! and I know which one you'll make," Dean taunted, knowing Sam didn't have the strength to kill his own brother. "Isn't that right Sammy?" I had gone ignored this whole time. I grabbed my gun from the holster strapped to my hip. Dean's eyes found mine through the hole in the door. He chuckled dryly. "Oh, you're going to kill me?" He asked sarcastically. I gulped. "You're in love with me, you wouldn't hurt me. I was surprised you even punched me and now you're going to shoot me?" He asked annoyance in his tone along with a taunting smirk.

"You're right," I spoke softly, my heart racing. He smirked stepping back ready to take another swing. I watched as his eyebrows furrowed before his eyes widened. He watched intently as I raised the gun, barrel pressing to my right temple. He looked at me slightly angry.

"Put it down," He instructed through gritted teeth. Keeping his voice down so he didn't scare me. A tear escaped my eye unconsciously. "I said, put it down," His voice showed his venom.

"Y/N, what you doing?" Sam asked looking at me like I was crazy.

"You said you only felt one thing, I was that one thing. You break that door down, you don't finish the treatment or if you even glare at Sam I'll pull this trigger faster than you can apologise," I explained simply. Emotions leaving my tone. Dean seemed to recognise that I wasn't bluffing. He lifted his hands, slowly dropping the hammer. I gulped. My life rests in Dean's hands.

"Just put the gun down," He spoke softly, his eyes looking pleading.

"I'm not putting it down until you're tied up and cooperating," I explained. He nodded, his eyes lowering and I could see he admitted defeat. I can't believe this is working. I didn't realise Dean cared for me this much but I'm glad he does. "Sam," I instructed without words.

Sam opened the door for Dean, stepping back in case he tried anything. He seemed to study me before scoffing, I worried he had tricked me.

"The safety-" He started. I aimed the gun up taking one shot before putting the gun back to my head. Sam and Dean flinched at the sudden shot.

"I'm not bluffing," I explained coldly. He studied me, heart rate increasing before he put his hands up and led the way to the cellar. He kept his eyes low as he took a seat in the metal chair but studied me as Sam tied him up. Once Sam confirmed it was clear I lowered the gun. Putting the safety on and unloading it. Dean seemed to take a deep breath of relief.

It was a while before Dean was conscious again, I gave him some of my blood since we have the same type, something we figured out years ago when he was electrocuted and in hospital. He joked he was going to keep me around in case he needed blood. I smiled softly at the memory. Cas had joined us, explaining he was already on his way to save us but was shocked we had it under control.

"How'd you do it?" He asked, looking between Sam and me. Sam and I had already explained the lead-up to what I did. Sam wondered how after so much human blood he could still want to be a demon. Cas explained it was easier to feel nothing than the pain of being human. I thought it was poetic.

"Y/N appealed to his human heart," Sam explained cryptically. I rolled my eyes.

"I threatened to shoot myself," I explained with a shrug. I couldn't take my eyes off Dean. Watching as his head was limp unconscious.

"Even as a demon he's in love with you," Cas commented, seemingly in a world of his own. My neck almost snapped as I quickly looked at him.

"What?" I asked, the word falling from my mouth.

"Dean's in love with you, even as a demon. Did you not know?" He asked as if it was a complete shock to him, his eyebrows furrowed as he watched me slightly.

"No, what makes you think he's in love with me?" I asked, a scoff wanting to come out but it wouldn't like it was too scared.

"Because I say it all the time," I looked over at Dean as he lifted his head. His eyes were black but soon dissolved back to the beautiful green. I watched amazed. Gulping slightly at his words. Sam splashed some holy water on his face. Definitely human. I smiled softly.

"Welcome back, Dean," Sam smirked, proud to have his brother back.

I stayed off to the side as Sam untied Dean. Cas waited in the library while we got Dean situated. He kept looking at me, a guilty expression on his face but every time I smiled softly. Dean hinted that he wanted food and so Sam took it as his hint to leave Dean and me alone.

"Y/N," He started as soon as the door closed behind Sam. His voice was full of sorrow. I shushed him as I closed the distance between us He was sitting on his bed, he watched me closely as I smiled at him. I let my body work without my brain being involved. I climbed onto his lap, straddling him. He looked completely shocked, his hands to his sides like he was scared to touch me.

"Shut up," I smirked, leaning in as I pulled him in by the back of his neck. I connected our lips, he seemed dazed for a second before his lips moved against mine, his hands hugging my waist as he kissed me back. His tongue entered my mouth with ease again. He smiled against my lips as our tongues danced.

I wrapped an arm over his shoulder, keeping him close as his hands explored me. They ventured down to my ass, squeezing harshly, a moan escaping my mouth and entering Dean's. He grunted, enjoying the sound. It reminded me of the grunts he had done when breaking down the door. I thought of how he kissed me even when he was a demon, the roughness, the need magnified and I could tell he was holding back now. I pulled back, quickly moving my lips to his neck.

He moaned, his head falling back as I sucked open-mouthed kisses onto his neck. "Y/N," He moaned breathlessly. I smirked as I continued kissing his neck. "I want you to move in," He explained. I paused, shocked slightly at the progression. Just 30 minutes ago I found out he loves me, not he's asking me to move in while we're finally enjoying each other. He pulled back to study me. Pleading eyes. "I'm sorry to spring it on you, I just. I've thought about it a lot and after today I can't trust myself to be alone with Sam and if I'm being honest I'm afraid of this," He explained gesturing between us. I looked at him sadly. I've thrown myself at him. I'm being ridiculous. He's just turned human again and I'm initiating sex. I'm sick.

"Sorry," I commented absentmindedly as I moved to get off his lap. His hands found my hips stopping me from getting up.

"No, I'm scared that I'll ruin it. Cas was right though, I am in love with you, I don't just want to have sex I want the real thing, the love, the relationship, all of it. Good and bad," He confessed, worry riddling his expression. I smiled softly.

"Dean, I want those too. You're not going to ruin it. I was willing to die for you less than an hour ago. You think I would do that for anyone else?" I asked rhetorically. He chuckled, noticing his mistake. He grinned widely.

"So, you'll go on a date with me?" He asked, the grin only growing wider.

"Of course, you goof," I chuckle, leaning in to reconnect our lips. He smiled against my lips his hands gripping me harder.

"Maybe we should stop," He commented, pulling away slightly. I looked at him expectantly wanting to know why. I'll get off of him if he wants me to but if he thinks that I want to then he's wrong. "I don't know if it's the leftover demon inside me, or if it's pent-up frustration or finally kissing you but I don't think I can contain myself," He confessed. His expression was thoughtful as he stared into my eyes. I smirked.

"Good," I answered simply, reconnecting our lips. He smirked, understanding my intentions. He snaked his arm around my waist, pulling my body closer to his. I smirked against his lips. He bit my bottom lip. Smirking as he pulled back. I glared at him with hungry eyes. His hands gripped my ass tighter, holding me against his body as he stood up. I squealed slightly surprised he was strong enough to lift me with no effort. Dean smirked against my lips. He turned around, lowering me onto the bed as he came down with me. Settling between my legs and hovering over me.

My tongue fighting his as I crave more of him, all of him. His hips seemed to fit against mine comfortably, perfectly. Like he was made to be there. His hands explored my body before finding the neck of my shirt and ripping it open. I squealed, my lips falling from his from the surprise. He wasn't joking about not being able to control him. I smirked excitedly, quickly reconnecting our lips. He ripped the rest of my shirt off my body. I'm glad I wasn't wearing a bra today, who knows if he was strong enough to rip that.

I moaned as his warm hands traced the lengths of my chest. His fingertips softly rubbed my body in a gentleness I didn't expect. It was like he was trying to map out my body with his hands, to memorise every pump and dip. I gripped his shirt, pulling it up before disconnecting our lips to lift it over his head. As the fabric passed his face he smirked, smiling happily as he moved back in to kiss me. My hands explored his back muscles as they contorted to my touch. He bit my bottom lip, pulling back a little before releasing it and starting. getting up. I smirked, watching him with hungry eyes. No matter how often I see Dean shirtless it will always weaken me.

He swiftly unbuttoned his jeans before stepping out of them. I gulped as I watched his dick press against his boxers, clearly hard and above average. He smirked as he watched my reaction clearly pleased. I blushed as he moved closer, grabbing the hem of my pants, I lifted my hips as he pulled them from my body. He trailed his hand up my leg, sending shivers down my spine as he reached closer to where I was wet for him. I gulped as he was close. He pushed his fingers between my sensitive skin and underwear. I smirked. He saw this as consent and slowly started pulling my underwear down. When I lifted my hips again he quickly pulled them off me, like if I didn't he would have stopped. I smiled at his adorableness. He stood up straight, putting his thumbs into boxers and slid them past his hips.

His dick sprang free. My first instinct was for my jaw to drop open but I bit my bottom lip to keep my mouth shut. I giggled as he smirked at me. He came back to me, hovering over me as he kissed me. I moaned as his tip poked my inner thigh. I reached between us, grasping his dick as he moaned against my lips. I smirked, the sound I didn't know I needed to hear but will forever be in my mind. I stroked the length of his cock as my pussy grew wetter. Even the thought of him makes me wet but this is making a waterfall.

His cock was so hard I wondered if it was hurting. I smirked against his lips as I removed my hand from between us and flipped us over so I was on top. I straddled him, his dick pointed up to the ceiling as I sat high on his thighs. He smirked, biting his bottom lip as he watched me. I smirked as I looked down at him. I leant down, kissing him as his hands moved down my sides and rested on my hips. I lifted my hips, moving my hand between us as he smirked against my lips. I licked his bottom lip, his tongue soon meeting mine. I grasped his hard cock, holding it steady as I lowered myself onto it.

I gasped against his lips as he smirked. He moved a hand to the back of my neck, pulling my lips back onto his. I lowered myself further on his cock. Moaning as he filled me and reached deeper than I thought was possible. I wanted to scream in pleasure as it throbbed inside me, I bit his bottom lip. I pulled away with hungry eyes. He looked at me deeply, admiring me as my eyebrows contorted with pleasure. His smirk grew as I adjusted to his size, a short pause before I began rocking my hips. He breathed through gritted teeth as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. I moaned at the sight.

I rocked my hips against his, my head falling back as the pleasure consumed me. Dean's hands found my hips, pushing and pulling me softly as he pushed his hips into me. I moaned as his tip pushed against my G-spot. Dean's groan made me feral. I wanted nothing more than to hear it again. I sat up fully, His dick reaching deeper inside me, a soft scream escaping my lips before I hurried to cover my mouth. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I quickened the pace. Dean's hands still guided my hips as he moaned, watching me and where our bodies met, his dick buried deep inside me. I placed a hand on his firm chest, using it to anchor myself.

God, he's amazing! The familiar feeling of an orgasm edged closer. I moaned as he pushed deep inside me, his tip kissing my G-spot again. "Fuck, Dean," I moaned, looking at him with hooded and needy eyes. He smirked, biting his bottom lip as he continued. "Fuck, if you keep going I'm going to cum," I managed through my laboured breaths.

"Cum for me, Y/N," His voice was pornographic. It was enough to make me do anything he wanted. I would act like a dog for this man if he asked me to. My thoughts clouded as my orgasm grew an inch closer. He seemed to recognise this as he lifted his hips, and my G-spot hit with a force I knew would make it hard for me to walk properly later. A scream escaped my lips as my orgasm peaked. Dean moved his hand to my mouth, quietening me as he continued pushing into me and rolling my hips with his hands. My legs clenched his side as my orgasm overtook my body. He groaned as my walls clenched around him, his laboured breathing becoming more jagged as he gripped my hips a little tighter, bruise causing tightness.

My orgasm subsided as he helped me ride it out. I practically turned to jelly in his hands. He smirked, moving his hand from my mouth and easing my upper body towards him. I smiled kissing him as his hands found my hips and lifted them slightly, my eyebrows furrowed with confusion before he bucked his hips up to meet mine. I moaned into his mouth, his tongue entering mine with the opportunity. His tongue silenced me as I tried not to scream. He thrust into my G-spot, pounding it relentlessly. He moved a hand to my cheek, pulling away a little to rest my forehead on his. His heavy breathing mixed with mine as a light coat of sweat formed on our bodies. I gasped, whimpering as I tried not to scream.

"Fuck," I moaned louder than intended but it seemed to cheer Dean on as his thrust became more precise. I moaned, my eyes rolling back, his tip hitting my G-spot with every thrust. The knot in my stomach came back quickly. "Fuck, Dean. I'm getting close again," He grunted at my words. His speed picking up slightly. He leaned up to kiss me, his tongue entering my mouth as he now knew I was the screaming type. His tongue silenced me as my orgasm peaked once again. His hand on my hip holding me securely my body shook from the power of the orgasm. I have never felt something so powerful. He fucked me through my second orgasm, slowing as he recognised I was coming down.

I pulled back, breathing heavily he lowered me back down onto him. I whimpered as I took all of him in again. He smirked kissing me sloppily as I wondered how he was doing this to me with ease. "Get on your hands and knees," He instructed. His tone was dark and his eyes piercing. I gulped, nodding excitedly as I kissed him quickly before getting off of him. I felt empty as I climbed off him. He rolled from under me so I could get in position on the bed. My knees were barely on the bed, my hands holding up my upper body as he stood at the edge of the bed. His hands found my hips. I moaned as he slapped my ass harshly. I bit my bottom lip.

He held my hips in place as he lined up his tip to my entrance, pulling me in slightly as he pushed into me. I moaned, eyes rolling to the back of my head as my head lost all weight. I whimpered, biting harshly on my bottom lip. His hand moved up my back before settling between my shoulder blades and softly pushing me down. I rolled my hips forward as I lay my chest against the bed and arched my back.

"Fuck," Dean moaned, his hand moving trailed up my back and found my hips again. He held my hips steady as he started to slowly fuck me. His pace practically quivered as he resisted going faster. I moaned, the pace making me weak. His grip on my hips was as strong as steel, keeping me in place. He moaned, breathing in through gritted teeth as he picked up the pace. My head fell limp as I moaned, his hips now pulling me in to meet him in the middle, his dick hitting my G-spot and massaging my walls. I gripped onto the bed sheet, biting down on my arm to silence myself. Whimpers escape my lips. "I want to hear you, baby," He commented, his breath laboured. His hand found my hair, pulling slightly so my head was up, neck extended and making it impossible to silence myself. My moans fall freely and loudly. "Fuck, just like that," He commented.

"Fuck, Dean!" I practically screamed as he pushed down on my hips to reach a new angle. The knot in my stomach contorting and tightening.

"Fuck, I'm getting close," He moaned. My body grew weak at his words and voice. My orgasm teased me with being seconds away.

"Me too, Dean. Fuck," I moaned. His hard dick throbbing inside me, hitting my G-spot.

"Mmm," He hummed before his nails dug into my skin. I moaned, my orgasm beginning to tip over. "I'm gonna cum," He practically shouted through his moan. My walls clenched around him as my orgasm peaked, his thrust still rough and deep but sloppy. A scream escaped my extended neck as his cum shot forcefully deep inside me. He grunted. Pushing deep inside me with each spurt of cum he shot into me. My orgasm seemed to last longer, his cum making it peak each time.

He breathed heavily, his hands staying on me as he stood still. My legs grew shaky as my body went limp. My breathing was erratic as he slowly pulled out of me. I practically collapsed on the bed as Dean chuckled lying beside me. I chuckled, admiring him as he grinned at me. He lifted his arm, waiting for me. I crawled up a little, snuggling into his side as he wrapped his arm around me. He smiled up at the ceiling as I blushed. If I had known the sex would be this good I would have made a move the day I met him. He looked down at me, moving some hair from my face as it stuck to some sweat on my face. Dean looked heavenly, the sweat looking like it was painted on his body perfectly as if an artist had the smallest brush in the world, working for hours to make it. He pulled me in with the arm around me, kissing the top of my head as I smiled.

"How about," He started, looking down at me with a smile. I smiled, turning slightly to put my hand on his chest and placing my chin on the top of my hand, admiring him as he talked. He chuckled slightly, his smile never fading. "We'll take a shower, get you cleaned up. Maybe some shower sex if your legs aren't too weak." I blushed at the thought. "We'll go get you things for you to move in and go on a date?" He asked, tucking some hair behind my ear as I smiled. I bit my lip nodding enthusiastically. His smile beamed as he admired me. He leaned down, and I met him in the middle connecting our lips. The kiss was sweet, sincere as if with a loving couple. I smiled as I pulled away.

"Dean," He looked at me expectantly. I blushed as I smiled. "I love you too," I added. His smile spread across his face as he leaned back in to kiss me. I giggled against his lips as he smiled. This is perfect.

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An extremely long chapter but I hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know in the comments if you read it all so I know if you guys like long chapters or want me to make it shorter in future. Thank you! 💜💜

#fanfiction #fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean #dean winchester fic #dean winchester smut #smut writing #spn fanfic #spn #dean smut

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scekrex · 1 month

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Just Adam getting worshipped. Body worship? Yes. Cock worship? Absolutely. Anything you can think of, You name it. Making Adam feel like a god in bed, not because the reader cares about his status as “first man,” no, no, no, but because they care about Adam.

Bonus points if Adam is insecure about “letting himself go” since Eden and gaining weight (fuck you Lucifer, he’s still hot >:( (Jk bbg I still love u)

Basically, I want this MF to feel loved for being HIMSELF not because of some superficial bullshit he tells himself to the point he starts crying tears of happiness.

Okay so um I kinda got carried away at some points I think and this is the most gentle blowjob I've probably ever written. Also reader doesn't fucking cum, because 'this is about Adam' and bc I said so lol

I hate everyone, it's so easy, I wouldn't do it if I didn't really care

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, oral sex, praise kink (implied)

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

When you gently placed your hand on Adam's chest to push him down against the soft, warm mattress and your touch continued to stay gentle as your hands roamed over his chest it was a little confusing for Adam - that he had to admit. He was used to heated sex, keeping it hot and heavy, rough and hard. Gentle? Well usually the only thing that he considered gentle when it came to having sex with you was the aftercare that always followed.

“Adam?” your voice sounded deeper than it usually did and while the first man was sure he'd find nothing but lust in your eyes, he was surprised to see admiration instead. A soft hum was the only response you got and so you continued, “Did I ever tell you how divine you look?” A smug grin appeared on the first man's face and he cockily replied, “Well, I'm fucking Ada-” you silenced him by kissing his lips, it was just a quick peck and yet it did the job and made him shut up. “No, not the first man type of divine. I'm talking about the Adam type of divine looking.” At that the brunette frowned, he wasn't quite understanding what you meant by that and it was obvious. You chuckled softly at his confused frown and patted his naked chest soothingly, “What I mean,” you hummed as your eyes flickered from his body to his eyes, “Is I'm not saying you're divine looking because you were the first human to be created,” you leaned down to place a gentle kiss on his right peck, “I’m telling ya you're the most holy thing I've ever seen with my own eyes because that's how it is - first man or not.” And that caused a very noticeable shift in the first man's expression.

Adam was quite surprised by the compliment you had just given him - that must have been the first time someone had told him that he meant that much to them, not because of his status, not because he was the first man, but simply because Adam was Adam, simply because someone loved him for himself and not for his rang. The confusion that had lingered in his eyes was replaced by something soft, something close to undying love for you and of course your curious mind noticed that. Your lips tenderly caressed the skin that covered his chest, from his collar bone down to his nipple and from there you left a trail of warm, loving kisses down his stomach until you reached his hip bone. Adam's hand had come up to pet your hair, there was no force, no guidance, he just went along with what you offered him. Because even though he would never admit it out loud, he had let himself go ever since Eden - nothing he could be blamed for, it's been over ten thousand years since his soul had first arrived in heaven. Yet it was something that made him feel uncomfortable if mentioned by others. Lute would joke about his dad-body, and to be completely honest, sometimes her jokes hit something inside of him.

Your lips kissed the skin of his soft belly, oh how you adored his belly, how you adored Adam's form in general. He wasn't ripped, he hasn't been ripped when you met him either. He had what earthlings would consider a small beer belly, you loved the soft meat very dearly. “God created the flesh you're made out of,” you whispered against his warm skin and kissed him right above his belly button, “But you alone make this body so purely celestial.” Adam wasn't sure how he was supposed to react - how would someone react to words as kind as yours even without his ego and insecurities? He didn't know. But he knew that your words made him feel warm, your words caused a smile to appear on his face - not the cocky ones he usually shot you but an honest one instead, a smile caused from pure happiness. “And you’re all mine, mine to love and adore,” you rested your chin on his sternum and looked up at him with the most adoring look Adam had ever seen, “Mine to worship and take care of.”

The brunette shuddered at your words and you noticed how his wings twitched, the light his halo casted over his face flickered for a short moment. The exorcists’ leader knew no one had ever spoken so purely about him, no one had ever appreciated his body the way you did. No one had ever been as honest about loving and adoring him as you were. He was also painfully aware of how all of your words not only went straight to his heart, but also to his dick - his erected dick. Oh to be loved and desired in such honest ways, it surely wasn’t something Adam had ever imagined, it was something the first man had never even dared to dream about. Because how? How should he have been able to dream about love this pure when the women that God had created for him and only him had traded him in for the devil? Yet you worshiped his body like you were the one made for him - and at this point maybe you were, only God knew. Your lips met his skin yet again, kissing town his happy trail until your lips were so, so close to the tip of his dick, Adam was able to feel your hot breath on it, an almost inaudible whine escaped his lips and yet you caught onto it. “I love the way your voice changes whenever you feel aroused, I adore the way you let me know I’m pleasing you well,” you whispered and because the only noise other than your voice was his heavy breathing you knew he had heard every word. “You always brag about being the first man - that all of mankind came from these fucking nuts,” to underline your words properly you ran your tongue over his sensitve testicles, which earned you a loud and strong groan. Your lips brushed against the heated skin of his balls as you continued to speak,”Yet you really have so much more to brag about - starting with your fighting skills, in God’s mighty name Adam, you defeated the radio demon.” Adam wanted to respond to that and if he would have done so, he would have probably said something like ‘His fucking mortal soul was no fucking match to me anyway’. But his response was swallowed by a moan that spilled from his lips as you sucked his testicles into your mouth, wet heat surrounding Adam’s most sensitive era so surprisingly quick that it took him a moment to comprehend what was happening. “Or your body that not only looks like the most holy thing to ever be created, but feels as heavenly as heaven itself - I must know, we are in heaven after all.”

The brunette’s cheeks heated up at your words. He knew you loved him, you assured him you did regularly, no matter if it was verbally or physically. But hearing so many honest and true compliments all at once was doing things to him. He was aware he wasn’t bad looking though most of his confidence was an act. A show to mask the fact that his body hasn’t been in shape for a few thousand years, a show to hide that he wasn’t as perfect as he’d liked to be. And yet you looked at him like he was the most beautiful, divine looking creation in all of existence, like he was actually that flawless, irresistible, pure, angelic dude he always said he was. And deep down inside he knew, Adam knew that even if Lilith or Eve would’ve worked out, even if they both wouldn’t have chosen Lucifer, neither of them would’ve admired and worshiped him the way you did. You. A man that had lived life on earth a couple thousand years after Eden, after Adam’s soul had entered heaven. A man that Adam had accepted as an equal way too quickly - not that you had disappointed him, you had gladly taken the equality Adam had been showing you, and now you were about to give some of it back to the brunette. His large hands were still buried in your hair as you licked up his balls, over his shaft all the way until you reached the tip. His grip tightened and his body tensed up a little - not due to discomfort but due to pleasure that shot through your body and wouldn’t stop, oh dear lord the way you made him feel. A woman could never, another dude could never. Only you were able to offer him this kind of bliss. “Please,” to say more wasn’t possible for Adam, he had drowned in the sweetness and kindness of your words, in the comfort your voice had provided and in the satisfaction your touch offered. He was out of his mind, felt your hot mouth closing around his cock and he knew his climax wouldn’t take long to roll over him. But he didn’t mind - cuming soon once was okay, especially given the situation. One of your hands caressed his testicles as your lips worked to swallow his length entirely, but before you were even close to taking all of him in, he whimpered and you were able to make out your name and ‘close’. You hummed around him, giving him the okay to cum inside your mouth and without hesitation the first man spilled his load. Rope after rope of thick warm liquid filled your mouth and you bobbed your head while Adam was experiencing his orgasm. Once the first man was spent, you pulled off his dick, your mouth filled with his seed as you crawled up his body and kissed him. The brunette was too out of it to notice you hadn’t swallowed his load just yet and eagerly parted his lips to deepen the kiss as his arm pulled you close and his now free hand slid down your body to cup your own erection. It was only then and there that he felt his own cum on his tongue - and it wasn’t just the taste of himself that lingered on your tongue, no, it was the entire load he had released inside of you that was now covering the insides of his own mouth. You pulled back a little as you whispered against his lips, “You simply need to know how wonderful you feel on my tongue.” And then you watched as Adam’s adams apple bobbed. He was swallowing his own cum and given his facial expression, he looked quite eager to do so. You gently removed his hand from your erection, moving it up to kiss the back of it instead, “No Adam, this was all about you.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

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