burnmp4

[a-yarn-of-purple-prose]

Every single one of these pics looks like it belongs in the inspo folder. Stunning.

[wandasaura]

IMGONNAGETYOUBACK

summary — after you push wanda to her limits at the pumpkin patch, she returns the favor once you get home

warning(s) — dom/sub dynamics, slight mean!wanda, punishment, spanking, pussy spanking, thigh spanking, flogger, spreader bar, condescending tone, light degradation, slight dumbification, praise kink, aftercare, men/minors dni

kinktober

The position she had you in was nothing short of compromising, definitely beyond humiliating, but it had been more than earned after your attitude carried on throughout the nice day of fall activities she had planned for you both, you could see that now, even if you whined behind your hands that concealed your flush cheeks from her dominating stare. There was no reason for your constant complaining and grumbling, bratty remarks and sarcastic quips slowly twinging her smile into something forced and sad, even as she dragged you through a pumpkin patch filled with perfectly round pumpkins for picking and whimsically shaped gourds with amusing bumps and ridges. You hadn’t had a reason, merely not being in a good mood when she’d dragged you out of bed before your social battery was ready. That wasn’t an excuse for your behavior, you’d told her that in your apology on the car ride from the pumpkin patch to the apple tree farm, but still you needed to be punished, reminded of your place beneath her; she’d already made her mind up on that.  

Your back was flush against the plush gingham print comforter, its sweet vibe reflective of the equally devine aesthetic of fall with its burnt orange stripes and murky cream patches, your legs held taught by the spreader bar suspended from the headboard, keeping you exposed to her view with your legs above your belly and your cunt unhidden despite any efforts made to gain back some modesty. The cool air blew against your center wickedly, provoking goosebumps to rise along your skin as you anticipated the next blow to come from what could either be her hand or the flogger she held tightly. Her previous hits had been interchanging, a pattern only identifiable by the movements of her body reaching and grabbing, letting go and holding on. She was in no mood to warn you about which type of sting would come from her swats, nor did she feel pity enough to keep her strikes the same harshness. Some were soft, pleasant, welcoming, others were crippling spanks of blinding pain that left a powerful, slightly unpleasant sting behind that you would feel for days. Tears pricked your eyes as her palm clashed against the globe of your ass again, right in the spot that the last three had fallen. You wiggled vehemently, desperate to get away, to lighten the sensation of pain that was becoming more agonizing than pleasurable, but the spreader bar and rope bound you in place, and her hand only further emphasized your vulnerability when it fell upon your thigh with an equally cruel spank, pushing your legs closer to your chest, only opening you more for her eyes to drink in.  

“You were so bratty, my love, so testy, and now you’re trying to run away from my hand. Haven’t I told you, never bite off more than you can chew.” Her tone is inflated with that sickly cold condescending tone that dampens your cunt even against your best attempts to remain unaffected, and a lewd whine slips off of your lips, mingling with the tear tracks that have slowly begun to dampen your palms that still cover your mouth and cheeks. She allows you this much control, this slightest ounce of modesty, but its not without her ministrations practically tripling on your ass. “How pathetic you look, reduced to nothing but a sobbing pet on my bed. Tell me, darling. Will you try that attitude with me again?” 

“No!” You sob, unprepared for the next strike that comes, but it falls onto the center of your ass just after you’ve answered, and it leaves you writhing, thrashing for security that isn’t prohibited, not until she’s done with you anyways. “No! I promise! I promise!” 

“Hm.” She coos, and you can feel her jostling the bed as she reaches for the flogger discarded near your hips. It’s a strike that feels like a peace offering, the instrument not nearly as severe as the pain her hand is capable of bringing upon you. “I don’t know if I believe you, darling. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you remember what happens to little girls who want to catch an attitude after this.” 

Your blood runs cold as you feel the flogger trail across your most definitely scarlet red ass, it kisses your skin with its leather delicacy, cooling the patches that feel so painfully warm from where her palm had struck the most, but then it trails upward, higher and higher, past the dip of your ass, up to your thigh and you know you’re in for it now. A weak plea falls off of your lips, strained and muffled by your hands, but Wanda has made her mind up already, and your desperate attempt to earn yourself pity falls flat. The first lick of the flogger clashing against your sensitive skin is pleasurable, and a breathy moan fills the air at the same time as another lands in the same spot. That isn’t pleasurable, not anymore. You whine, subjected to the harshness of her assault with no escape, but Wanda doesn’t seem to care that you’re writhing and wriggling about, whining and whimpering so daintily sweet that it nearly contradicts the cruelness of her actions as she rotates between her palm and the flogger deliciously so. You’ve stopped counting how many strikes stain your skin with tingling, stinking pain, but when you think its over, when the blows lighten, she only starts again, high and lower, in the middle, on the side, assuring that every inch of your skin is red and bruised for days to come, wanting to assure you remember your place beneath her each time you sit or brush against something. 

A sharp cry falls off your lips when the flogger trails lower once more, the official marker of where her next destination will be. When it falls between your legs, catching on your clit that's pulsating and erect despite the pain that warps your senses, you’re hysterical, a babbling mess of pleas and whines. The once pleasurable sensation has ebbed away, and yet Wanda’s cruelness remains intact. You’re not sure how much longer you can take before it becomes too much, before you’re trying out your safe word and begging for forgiveness and comfort. She’s pushing you to your limit, the same as you pushed her. 

“Shh.” She concedes, her tone soft and light as it floats through the room and lands upon your ears, somehow feeling a million miles away despite her close proximity to your body that's ablaze with sensations beyond simplistic definitions. “Almost sweetheart, almost. I know you want to cum, do you think you can cum from me spanking this cute little cunt. Mmm, you’re all spread out for me, all drippy and soft. You’ve been tempting me, teasing me with this little clit that jumps anytime I hit you. It’s only fair I get to play with you how I want, isn’t it, sweet girl? You’ll let me play with you? Spank this pretty cunt raw?” There’s a subtle undertone to her taunting, a gentle easiness in her words. She’s asking if you can take more, promising that she won’t overdo it, bringing you back down to that pit of pleasure despite the stinging pain that still shoots through you. 

Unable to form the words on the tip of your tongue, you simply nod your consent, your hands finally falling away from your face as they grab onto the comforter beneath your back, sodden with sweat and arousal that has dripped down your body from your weeping entrance that remains empty and untouched. 

“My hand or the flogger, sweet girl. You can pick this time. No surprises.” She cooes gently, her fingers delicately spreading your folds, massaging the skin that hasn’t been striked yet. Tauntingly, she dabs her finger against your entrance only to pull away when you moan in sought after pleasure to instead marvel at the ropes of arousal that cling to her digit red from the impact of her palm clashing with your ass. 

“Hand.” It’s a weakly mumbled decision, but one that Wanda hears and accepts with a pleased hum. The position she has you in is beyond perfect, your entrance and clit unhidden and so spankable. It doesn’t dawn on you that this had been the plan all along, but it had been. Wanda had wanted to reduce you to nothing but a desperate submissive, wanted to remind you of your place, and selfishly she’d been waiting for the right time to truly spank your cunt, more than just the few soft teasing taps she gives whenever you ask her to go down on you. 

The first hit is soft, but the second is hard, and the third is harder. She’s not trying to break you anymore, but there’s still an ounce of punishment in her movements, although you can’t help but gasp and writhe in pleasure each time she strikes your clit so perfectly with her palm. You’re not counting how many times she’s strikes you, but before you know it, your back is arching off the bed and you’re pleading with her for permission to let go, to cum from her spanking your cunt with her hand, as dirty as it sounds. 

“You want to cum, darling? Go ahead, cum for me. Make a mess on my hand, it’s okay. You’re forgiven. Just let go, let go. Shhh, there you go, so good for me. Such a good girl.” She coaxes you through the powerful orgasm that laps at your being with immense intensity, not easing up on the spanks she delivers to your sensitive, abused skin. When you calm down, desperately tapping at the bed for her to stop, she’s undoing the cuffs around your ankles, placing the spreader bar aside and collecting you into her arms. You cry weakly, nuzzling your face into her neck as you mumble apologies and soft, indistinguishable things that equally break her heart and heal it. “All is forgiven. You took your punishment so well. Such a  good girl. My good girl. Let me get you cleaned up, huh? Put some lotion on you, get you in some comfortable clothes, and then well just lay here and cuddle, okay?” 

“Hold me. Please, just hold me for a little bit.” You plead, your voice scratchy and hoarse. 

“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll hold you for however long you need.”

[julietsf1]

Chef's Kiss... but Maybe Not the Cooking - Franco Colapinto x Reader

Summary: Franco might not be the best chef, but that doesn't ruin the night (1.2k words)

Warnings: None :) wholesome vibes

AN: reminder to check your smoke alarm batteries!! kisses <3

__________________

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” I called out, eyeing Franco with a mix of amusement and mild concern as he confidently moved around the small kitchen. His apron—bright red and definitely way too small—barely covered his front, leaving the rest of him looking like he’d outgrown it by several sizes.

Franco turned to me with a grin that oozed confidence, waving me off like he had it all under control. “Help? Please, I’ve got this. You’re in for the best dinner of your life, mi amor.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. His green eyes were sparkling with energy, despite the ridiculous apron that was comically snug around his waist. His fluffy brown hair, still slightly damp from his shower, bounced with every exaggerated movement he made as he whisked something in a bowl.

“I’m serious!” he continued, pointing the wooden spoon in my direction, like he was daring me to doubt him. “This pasta is going to blow your mind. My abuela used to make it for us, and I swear, the whole family would fight over it.”

I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching him in full-on ‘Franco Chef Mode,’ which mostly consisted of him yapping enthusiastically and throwing ingredients into the pan with dramatic flair. “Sounds amazing,” I teased. “You sure your abuela didn’t mention anything about using a bigger apron?”

He glanced down at his too-small apron and smirked. “I think it looks great,” he quipped with a wink, “Makes me look extra muscular.” With that, he turned back to the stove, tossing onions into the pan like a pro. Well, a very confident, slightly chaotic pro.

“So, where was I?” Franco rambled on, stirring the onions with a flourish. “Ah, sí. My abuela always had a secret ingredient for this dish—made it the best in all of Argentina.”

“Let me guess,” I said, already knowing what was coming. “Love?”

“Exactly!” He spun around, pointing the spoon at me again like he’d just revealed the greatest culinary secret of all time. “You’re catching on. It’s the love that makes it special.”

I chuckled, shaking my head as I watched him. He was talking a mile a minute, bouncing between stories about his family and random facts about the pasta, his enthusiasm filling every corner of the kitchen.

“Oh! And one time I tried making this while camping with my cousins,” he continued, stirring the pan with far too much confidence. “We had no pans, no stove, nothing! So we made this big firepit ourselves, and I swear, we nearly set the tent on fire. But the pasta? Still amazing. Not to brag, but it was probably the best meal ever made on a camping trip.”

I laughed, unable to help myself. “Really? Best camping meal ever, huh?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a nod, his voice filled with pride. “I think my cousins still talk about it to this day. Of course, they might have been a bit crazy from hunger after the hike and the whole nearly-burning-the-tent-down incident, but I’m pretty sure it was my cooking skills.”

“Uh-huh,” I teased, my eyes flicking to the stove, noticing the onions beginning to smoke. “Are you sure we’re not about to have a repeat of the tent fire here?”

Franco waved me off without even looking. “No way, mi amor. I’ve got this under control. Trust me, once I add the garlic and—wait, did I add the garlic yet? No, no, we’re good. Anyway, as I was saying, the key to any great dish is improvisation. You have to feel the ingredients, let them tell you what they need. You can’t follow a recipe too strictly, you know?”

“Uh-huh…” I tried to hide my smile, but the smell of something burning was unmistakable now.

“So, this one time in Argentina—”

“Franco!” I finally cut in, pointing toward the stove. “The onions!”

His eyes widened in shock. “Mierda!” He lunged for the stove, but it was too late. The onions were charred beyond recognition. With a dramatic sigh, he grabbed the pan, lifting it up to inspect the damage. “Okay, so maybe... I overestimated the heat a bit.”

I laughed, covering my mouth with my hand. “A bit?”

Franco turned to me with a sheepish grin, still holding the smoking pan. “Hey, it’s all part of the process, right? Even the greatest chefs burn something every now and then.” He set the pan down with a shrug. “You know, I think this is fate telling us we should be eating takeout instead.”

“Oh, is that what it’s telling us?” I teased, stepping closer to peer into the burnt remains of his ‘famous’ recipe. “Your abuela’s going to be so proud.”

Franco groaned dramatically, setting the pan down with a defeated sigh. “Okay, so maybe my abuela wouldn’t be proud of this particular attempt.” He looked at me with that same sheepish grin, charming as ever despite the burnt onions. “But next time, I’ll definitely get it right.”

I raised an eyebrow, giving the mess on the stove a pointed glance. “Next time? Are you sure you’re up for it?”

He chuckled, pulling me closer by the waist, his hands warm against my skin. “I’m always up for a challenge, mi amor. Besides, I make up for it in other ways.” He leaned in, brushing his lips against mine in a soft, teasing kiss that left me smiling.

“Is that so?” I teased, tugging playfully on the string of his too-small apron. “Because right now, all I see is a confident chef... with no dinner.”

Franco smirked, his green eyes twinkling with mischief. “Good thing I’m great at improvising, then. How about this: I’ll make it up to you with pizza—takeout, of course. No burnt onions, I promise.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re really going for the easy option, huh?”

“Hey,” he said, leaning back to look at me, his grin widening. “Sometimes the best plan is knowing when to call it quits.” He pulled out his phone, already scrolling through the takeout options. “So, what’ll it be? Pizza? Sushi? Anything you want, I’ve got you covered.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I rested my head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body against mine. “Pizza sounds perfect.”

He laughed, wrapping his arm around me and kissing the top of my head. “Deal. But I’ll still win you over with my cooking skills one day. You’ll see.”

“Mm, we’ll see about that,” I teased, grinning as I pulled him in for another kiss—this one deeper, slower. His hand slid up my back, pulling me closer until there was no space between us, the warmth of his touch sending a flutter through my chest.

When we finally pulled apart, I smiled up at him, pretending to be unimpressed. “Okay, so maybe you’re better at this than cooking.”

Franco smirked, his confidence back in full force. “See? I told you I’m quite talented at some things.”

We settled onto the couch, Franco’s arm wrapped around me as he ordered the food. I snuggled into him, enjoying the warmth of his body against mine.

“You know,” I said after a moment, glancing up at him, “I think I’m kind of glad you burned the onions.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Glad? Really?”

I grinned, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “Yeah. Because honestly? I much prefer cuddling up with you here on the couch.”

Franco laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he kissed the top of my head. “Well, in that case, I might have to burn dinner more often.”

[kingkunigami]

— hate you

You hate Oliver Aiku more than anything, if only he’d believe you.

Of course Oliver Aiku would be the first and only man to have me use the word ‘cunny’, but that’s the reason why we hate him right? Right—

Pairing: Aiku Oliver x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, hate sex, Oliver uses the word ‘cunny’ once, semi-public sex, dirty talk, no prep, creampie (reader tells him not to cum inside but he’s a prick).

Word Count: 2k.

You hate Oliver Aiku. Loathe him entirely. It’s as though this man exists to make your life miserable— and to destroy the battery in your vibrator, not that he ever needs to know that.

“Do you even know what the offside rule is, sweetheart?” He practically spat, his large form towering over you as he looked to intimidate you.

But it would never work. You were used to the same chauvenistic bullshit time and time again, by men who were far more powerful than Oliver Aiku. Remaining strong as you kept the flag high in the air and stood your ground, maintaining your verdict that the footballer was offside.

“I wouldn’t want a refresher from someone that doesn’t know what it is either.” You quipped coolly, watching his brows furrow as he kicked the ball towards Isagi in irritation.

And you tell yourself that the only reason why you’ve attended this stupid party in the first place was to annoy the centre back, and remind him that there’s no one else you hate more than him.

“Can you two just fuck already?” Chris Prince nudged your shoulder as he caught you looking across the room at Oliver, “You’re putting me off my pint.”

“I’d rather die.” You scoffed, chugging the rest of your drink before making your way towards the bathroom.

There’s no way you’d ever want to fuck a man like Oliver Aiku. He’s a misogynistic jerk that doesn’t deserve an ounce of your time, and you’ll spend the rest of your days reminding him of the fact. Worth nothing more than masturbation material as you rub your clit raw to try and get a quick release, replaying your sordid fantasies in your mind while you lay awake at night.

Or at least that’s what you try to convince yourself, as you now find yourself pressed against the bathroom wall by one extremely arrogant looking Oliver Aiku.

“I feel like you’ve been avoiding me all night, babygirl.” He teases, closing the door behind him.

“Don’t call me that,” You glower, but the cocky lilt to his voice had your clit betraying you. Stowing the sound of it away in the sordid core of your brain for later when you’d settle in bed with your trusty toy.

“Aww, don’t be like that,” He coos, placing his cup down on the corner of the bathroom sink as he corners you.

“I hate you,” The words are laced with venom as he cages you against the wall. The downstairs bathroom holds barely enough space for one person, nevermind Oliver’s hulking form. His broad shoulders box you in, and if you wanted to escape there would be nowhere to go— at least that’s what you tell yourself as you lean into his touch.

His lips ghost yours, and you can feel the warmth of him laced with a mixture of beer and far too much cologne. It leaves you feeling dizzy and disorientated as he invades your space. His palm circles your neck as he tilts your chin with his thumb, pressing the faintest butterfly kiss against your glossy lips as he gives you a chance to pull away. And you should, because you fucking hate him, right? But you don’t.

Oliver is ravenous as he captures your lips in a fierce kiss, his grip against you firm as he holds you in place. It’s difficult to think as he swipes his tongue against your parted lips, trying to delve deeper as he searches for entrance. Lashing against your teeth as you let him in, swallowing the groan that forms in your throat as he deepens the kiss.

Your legs feel like jelly as your thankful for his frame keeping you upright, your hands fist into the cotton of his shirt as you pull him closer. Your nose knocks against his clumsily as you feel him palm your clothed breast, slotting his thigh between your legs as he presses himself against your core.

You can’t help yourself— can’t stop your hips from jerking as you grind yourself against pure muscle, desperate to give some needed stimulation to your throbbing cunt. You can feel Oliver’s grin against your mouth as you pull away, licking his lips childishly to taste the saccharine of your gloss against his tongue. The messy pink hue tints his skin as he shamelessly slips his hands beneath your skirt to pull your soaked panties down.

You should tell him off when he pockets them without question, chastise him for being such an asshole. But the thoughts fall on deaf ears the moment his slender fingers brush through your messy folds.

“I hate you,” You repeat, although the venom has virtually disappeared to be replaced by the desperate sigh that escapes past your lips.

“Sure feels like you fucking hate me, sweetheart.” He groans, shamelessly prodding at your tight hole as it pulses in response, inviting him in like a tempting siren ushering a sailor to his death. Dragging the moisture from your weeping hole to press it against your puffy clit, stealing more pretty sounds from your throat.

“I do.” The words leave your lips as though you’re trying to convince yourself of a truth to them, sounding them against your tongue before licking your glossed lips.

He’s quick to undo his buckle, letting it hang in the loops of his jeans as he tugs them down enough to free his thick cock. It’s clear Oliver is unconcerned about foreplay, another reason why you should hate him more. But he has the decency to drag the leaking swollen tip of himself through the mess between your thighs before he presses himself against your tight entrance. Calloused fingers dig into the plush of your leg with even more urgency as he pulls your thigh higher against his hip.

“Yeah, yeah,” He gives a harsh rut of his hips that has your thick lashes fluttering as your nails dig into broad sboulders, “Can you feel how much I hate you too?”

He’s so deep inside you that you’re certain you can feel his cock pulse in your throat, the swollen tip angled perfectly to hit your g-spot with every messy thrust. Oliver gives another rough thrust to emphasise the statement, pushing you harder against the wall as you knock your head against the cool porcelain tile.

“You’re disgusting.” You groan, your chest heaves as he pulls your top down. Exposing your round breasts to his greedy eyes as he pinches a taut nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger as you tremble against him.

“I know,” He sniggers, “That’s why you’re soaking my cock right now.”

“Fuck you,” The words leave your lips like an insult, but your body betrays your repulsion.

“At least your pussy’s fucking honest,” He continues, his grip almost bruising against your skin as he starts a brutal place, “Feel her sucking me in.”

It’s hard to focus with the way he uses you, messy stubble scratches against the column of your neck as he peppers searing hot kisses against your skin. Your hands reach the base of his skull, nails scratch against his scalp as you try to find purchase. To find some semblance of reality as the man you’re so certain you despise splits you apart on his cock.

“Oh, baby. You’ve got the sweetest little cunny.”

“Shut the fuck up,” You feel yourself blanch at the childish word, the humiliation swirls in your pelvis as you scrunch your nose in disgust, “Don’t call it that.”

“Oh?” You can hear the mirth on the tip of his tongue as he noses the side of your face, lips pressed against the shell of your ear, “You’d prefer if I called her my perfect little cunt instead?”

The crude spit of the word has your walls clenching around him. A pitiful, carnal response to his words as his lips curl into a smug grin. Oliver laughs and you hate him even more, the desire to push him off you and leave him drooling with your slick to wipe that stupid smirk of his face is strong. But the desire to cum is stronger.

“She’s not yours,” You snarl, your nails practically dig into his skin now, leaving long red lines down the expanse of his back even through the thin cotton of his shirt.

“She isn’t?” He tilts his head to the side with fake perplexity, “Is that why she’s fucked into the shape of my cock?”

You hate his stupid dirty talk, or the pathetic attempt of it. But your body betrays your consciousness, drooling down the length of him as you leave creamy rings of slick around the base. Oliver wonders what you’d think if you knew he wasn’t going to shower tonight, content to fist himself again to the memory— with his cock still covered in a thick layer of you.

“It’s like she knows who she belongs to—” You dont know whether he’s talking to you or your cunt now, as he reaches between your bodies to thumb at your swollen clit. Rubbing messy figures of eight against it as your hips buck into him, trying to match his thrusts as you feel the coil onside you tighten.

“Yeah, not to you—“ Your retorts are just as pathetic as you are now, barely able to form a coherent response as you’re focused on the way Oliver manages to hit that same spot inside with precision. The engorged tip bruising your cervix with each roll of his hips, intent on leaving you with a buoyant throb between your thighs the next morning. A reminder of just how well he fucked you—

“Let’s ask her, shall we?” He sneers, pressing his lips against yours in a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth. Smearing what little is left of your sparkly lipgloss against his lips and your cheeks, “If you love my cock cum for me, sweetheart.”

You clench in disdain, refusing to submit to a man— no less Oliver Aiku. But he feels the way you squeeze him, the way you try to fight back and he refuses to lose to you now. Increasing his pace as his balls slap against the swell of your ass, the crude sound mixes with the squelch of your cunt as he pushes you towards the brink. Challenging you to hold back, to deny your pleasure.

“I know you want to,” He continues, “I can feel you squeezin’ my cock.”

And he’s right, you hate how right he is. Your toes curl in your shoes as your eyes roll back into your skull, finally succumbing to the pleasure flowing through your veins as a pathetic whine of his name spills from your lips.

“Oh you good fuckin’ girl,” He gloats, cherishing the way your cunt throbs around him. Continuing to use your body for his own pleasure as he pounds into your convulsing heat.

Your cunt continues to clench around Oliver’s cock, trying to milk him of his release as your head lulls back against the porcelain tile. His palm reaches up to hold the back of it, and normally you’d shout at him for touching you when his fingers are covered in your slick. But it’s uncharacteristically caring as he stops your skull from banging against the wall as he uses you for his own pleasure, shamelessly seeking out his release as he fucks into your quivering hole.

“Not inside,” You whine, staring at him through half lidded eyes as he pouts pathetically.

“But she wants it,” He chimes between sloppy thrusts, “She wants me to fill her up— oh, fuck.”

The way your walls pulse around him in response is all it takes to have him tumbling over the edge into his own pleasure, his forehead pressed against yours as he empties his balls inside your silky walls. Lining them with white hot spurs of his release as he gives a few more sloppy thrusts, fucking the mixture deeper inside you as he rides out his high.

“You’re such an asshole,” You groan as he pulls out of your abused hole, feeling his spend leak out of you as it drools down your inner thighs.

“Would an asshole have you this wet, sweetheart?” And you can already feel your cunt throbbing at the sight of his softening cock glistening under the fluorescent light.

“That isn’t me,” You sneer, but Oliver unabashedly holds himself up so you can see the creamy slick pool around his sac.

“You keep telling yourself that,” He grins, “And I’ll keep believing it.”

[springwitch26]

flowers and firsts (melissa schemmenti x fem!reader)

summary: being the gracious friend you are, you offer to share your weed with melissa and jacob for a fun friday night at their place. when jacob goes to bed, things get heated between you and your favorite coworker.

warnings: smut (18+), consensual high sex, recreational marijuana use (be responsible), strap-ons, praise kink, vibrators, soft melissa, stoner reader, attempts at comedy (it's a fun fic guys), mario kart 8 GONE SEXUAL

notes: happy 4/20. this wasn't requested, but my OCD is beating the fuck out of me rn and writing it brought me comfort. let me know what you think. much love from your favorite slutty stoner 💚

"i know kids are curious, but eighth grade is a bit early to try weed, right?" jacob bounced his leg anxiously as he raised the question to his friends in the teachers' lounge. one of his students had just been suspended for bringing marijuana to school, and jacob was characteristically worried about the kid.

"i started in tenth grade, but teenagers are growin' up younger and younger these days," melissa responded. barbara raised her eyebrows in shock, and melissa reacted with an amused half-smile. "like trouble over here. when was your first time, hon?"

you tried to ignore the innuendo as melissa invited you into the conversation. you had been hired to teach the third grade a few months ago. you and melissa had a rapport from the first moment you walked into the lounge. every time you were in a room together, you made each other laugh. melissa made you feel at ease in your new workplace, and you felt lucky to have her.

because you both got along so well, ava often paired you up for team-building exercises and combined-class activities. the two of you weren't exactly close friends yet, but you had chemistry. that much was obvious to everyone at abbott.

"tenth grade for me, too," you answered between sips of your morning coffee. "a friend and i did it in the bathroom before art class. good memories."

"what, did you have some kinda fancy vape pen?" melissa cocked an eyebrow at you.

"i wouldn't call it fancy, but yeah, we mostly smoked carts," you explained. "bought 'em from the upperclassmen in the parking lot before school. i'm pretty sure they weren't pure weed, though. we had to be smoking battery acid, or plastic or something."

"god, your generation is weird. smokin' chemicals out of a flash drive," melissa said, gesturing wildly to convey her amazement. "the first time i got high was in detention. my buddy steve would sneak in and bring us cigarettes and blunts. they all looked the same, so we played russian roulette with it. now everybody walks around with those neon devices in their pockets."

"i can't tell if you're being serious or if you're referencing the breakfast club," you giggled, nudging the redhead's shoulder jokingly as you sat down next to her.

"ha ha, very funny, little miss," melissa deadpanned. you had asked her to stop calling you "kid" a few weeks ago. she respected your wishes by coming up with all sorts of endearing synonyms to call you instead. "what about you, jacob? you used to vape—ever experimented with mary jane?"

"or mark john?" you added. melissa snorted and gave you a playful swat on the arm.

"no, actually, i haven't," jacob said, rolling his eyes at your quip. "i didn't have many friends in high school or college, and after that i had to be drug tested regularly for teachers without borders. i never got the chance."

"well, if you ever feel like trying something new, i have plenty to share," you offered. "can't have you over at my place, though; every time i bring guests around, my crazy neighbor thinks they're cia operatives."

everyone in the room except melissa gave you a shocked look. barbara looked especially aghast, her brightly painted lips curled into an 'o' shape.

"damn, i thought janine was the only after-school stoner here. what a pleasant surprise!" ava broke the silence.

"i suppose i would partake given one of those weed pens you mentioned," jacob said to you. "the only thing i've been vaping lately is air, and it gets stale after a while."

"oh no, i haven't used a cart since high school," you clarified. "if you're smoking with me, you're smoking. don't worry, it's easy. just like vaping, but better in every way."

"first of all, no smoke circle is happening under my roof without me." melissa chimed in, looking at you with a silent question in her eyes. you nodded—of course you wanted her there. "and second, where do you even get the weed? if you buy the legal stuff from new york or massachusetts, you're not bringin' it to my house."

"i wouldn't dream of it," you affirmed. "i only smoke authentic philly weed. don't worry about it; i got a guy."

---

that friday night, you showed up on melissa's doorstep wearing a casual t-shirt dress, with a tote bag full of goodies slung over your shoulder. jacob was the one to answer the door.

"hey! come on in, melissa's making pizza," he said cheerfully, a bit jittery with anticipation.

you followed jacob inside and found melissa leaning over the kitchen island, smiling fondly at you. she was wearing sweatpants and a loose-fitting striped shirt, with her hair loose and a bit messy from cooking. she looked radiant and comfortable.

"you know, the pizza will taste better if we smoke before dinner," you proposed.

"bold of you to assume my pizza could taste any better," melissa joked back.

"i'm game," jacob said. "i want the full marijuana experience."

"in that case, help me set up," you said to the history teacher. "i want you to see how everything works."

you laid the contents of your tote bag out on the island countertop: a ziploc baggie full of flower, a little purple grinder, a holographic pink bowl, and a yellow lighter with white flowers on it.

"jacob, this is a grinder," you said, uncapping the grinder and opening the ziploc bag. "we're gonna use it to break up the flower into little pieces."

"oh wow, that is... pungent," jacob remarked. he watched as you ground up the weed, then handed the pink glass bowl to him.

"and this is a bowl, or a pipe if you're lame," you said. "you wanna do the honors?"

jacob grinned and reached into the grinder, bouncing excitedly on his heels. you put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. he filled the bowl, looking to you for approval several times while he did it.

"awesome, we're ready," you said. melissa placed her pizza in the oven and joined the circle.

"let's take it out on the patio," melissa suggested.

she led you and jacob out to the patio, a small ledge overlooking the city with three chairs conveniently set up in a tight circle. it was 7pm and the sun had just begun its descent, casting philadelphia in an orange glow.

the three of you sat down. you held the bowl up to your lips and moved to light it, but melissa snatched the lighter from your hand. she leaned in and held the flame to the bowl, her face inches from yours. you tried to concentrate on the task at hand, rather than her painted lips or her vivid green eyes dancing all over you.

you took a long inhale of the smoke and blew it up toward the sky. melissa plucked the bowl out of your hand and took a hit. she held the smoke in her lungs for an impressive amount of time for someone who didn't smoke regularly. she passed the still-lit bowl to jacob.

as soon as jacob took his hit, you knew it was gonna hurt. he overestimated his own lung capacity, and he didn't even finish blowing the smoke out before he was coughing.

"happens to everybody, pal," melissa patted jacob's back to ease his pain.

"ugh!" jacob sputtered between coughs. "why didn't you guys tell me smoking hurts?"

---

several rotations later, the three of you were high. well, you and melissa were high; jacob was outright fried. not altogether unexpected, but funny as hell.

when melissa's pizza was done, you all resolved to eat outside so you could watch the sunset together.

"this is heavenly, mel," you moaned after a delicious bite of the pizza.

"ha!" jacob exclaimed, and you and melissa turned to him, confused. meeting melissa's gaze, he threw his arms up in the air—like he expected her to understand what he meant by that one noise. "she stole two syllables from your name. you can't just take syllables, y/n. they're not yours."

"since when do you care about private property rights?" you quipped back before turning your attention to melissa. "i'm serious though. this pizza is sooo good. like last-meal-on-death-row good."

"keep talkin' sweet like that, and you can call me whatever you want," melissa replied with a wink, sending a flood of warmth to your face.

"what were we talking about? just now?" jacob chimed in, his eyes wide and darting every which way.

"... i actually don't know," you said with a giggle. you tried to remember, you really did. but you could feel melissa's eyes on you, and you heard her words echoing in your head. and it was hard to focus on anything else.

"short term memory loss! add that to the list of things you guys didn't warn me about," jacob scoffed.

"jacob, eat your damn pizza," melissa cut in. a peaceful smile graced her lips as she stared out at the city skyline, now a twilight blue in the absence of the sun. "i've missed this feeling, everythin' all fuzzy and light. how are you holding up, lovebug?"

your heart fluttered at the endearing name. melissa, it seemed, wore her heart on her sleeve when she was high—judging by the adoring way she gazed at you while she awaited your response. maybe the weed was messing with your head, but you swore she'd never looked so beautiful.

her eyes lacked any trace of the fire you were used to seeing (though they were quite red). for once, she wasn't on guard. her plump lips curled around her wine glass as she took a sip of merlot, vocalizing her sensual appreciation with a hum.

her long auburn hair was tucked behind her ears, resting on her shoulders in loose waves instead of her preferred meticulous curls. you wanted to run your fingers through her locks, feel their softness and smell her shampoo.

entranced by the redhead, you forgot she had asked you a question. melissa tapped your knee in reminder.

"i feel perfect," was your soft reply. you were beaming brightly before the sentence even finished. rather than sitting in a chair, you felt like you were floating on a cloud. the colors of melissa's patio and the sky blended together in a beautiful, swirling mosaic. the sounds of the city were clear and pleasant as philly wound down for the night. "i'm so happy."

"glad to hear it, sunshine. but i'm pretty sure jacob is asleep," melissa chuckled and patted the man's shoulder. he didn't stir, remaining slumped and conked out in his chair. "he's been losin' sleep over the kid who got suspended. bending over backwards trying to keep 'em on track."

"oh gosh," you said sympathetically before patting jacob a bit more firmly than melissa had. "jacob, hey. c'mon, it's time for bed. get up, go get cozy."

your words were slurred and hushed, but they seemed to pierce the veil of jacob's slumber as he awoke with a start.

melissa stood behind jacob's chair, gently rocking it back and forth to bring him back to the conscious world.

"can't go to bed, we just started," jacob grumbled, but his eyes were still closed. he was dangerously close to falling asleep again.

"from the looks of it, you're either gonna spend the night sleepin' in this chair or in your bed, so get up," melissa said resolutely.

"yeah, and besides, there's always next time," you assured jacob as he stretched and groaned his way into an upright position. you made eye contact with melissa, and this time you winked.

---

after helping jacob into bed (his motor skills really deteriorated when he got high) and smoking another bowl together, you and melissa were ready to continue your night.

"alright, sweetheart, it's down to you and me," melissa said, sitting down next to you on the couch. "what do you wanna do?" you pondered the question, looking around the room for inspiration.

"oh my god, you have a nintendo switch?" you asked excitedly, gesturing to the black tablet plugged in next to the cable box.

"that's jacob's. he showed me one of the games on there—animal crossing, i think it was. i don't get it. why play a game if you can't win?"

"alright, i know what we have to do now," you said, walking over to jacob's game cabinet and pulling out mario kart 8. holding the case up for melissa to see, you grinned. "four races. whoever wins gets whatever she wants from the other."

you were distantly aware of the implications, but you were too high to reconsider what you'd proposed.

you figured melissa would want something from your thoroughly decorated classroom if she won. if you won, you'd ask her to make you a custom pizza.

"you have no idea what you just started, hon," melissa said with a confident smirk.

"may the best woman win."

---

how the hell was she so good at everything?

melissa had needed some time to warm up to the switch controls, complaining about how the little red rectangle was too small to hold comfortably. but she was a quick learner with skilled fingers, and soon she was absolutely demolishing you.

it also didn't help that your coordination escaped you when you were high. you had driven off of too many ledges to count.

"two wins in a row for luigi," melissa bragged as she crossed the finish line of the third race. "hope you're ready to give me whatever i want, princess. don't think i forgot about our bet."

"daisy won the first race," you pointed out calmly. "i can still bring it back. but you know what this last race has to be?"

"what?"

"rainbow road. it's the perfect final showdown course," you explained, navigating to the course with your controller.

"get ready to be mine for a night," melissa said lowly. god, you knew she was talking about the bet, but she knew damn well what she was doing. by this point your panties were almost uncomfortably wet.

you leaned into her unconsciously as the race countdown began. you both held your controllers tight, almost shoulder to shoulder.

3...

2... (you push down the gas pedal button)

1...

GO!!!

daisy took off with a boost of speed thanks to your timing. luigi had a false start as his engine blew out. you cheered, and melissa cursed.

"how the fuck do you do that?" she asked, exasperated.

"play the game!" you demanded without looking away from the screen.

the competition was intense. you and melissa weaved around curves, nearly fell off the road, passed and bumped each other. neither one of you spoke until lap 3.

coming up on one of the last turns of the last lap, your hands jerked and you swerved. reacting on instinct, you bent your arms dramatically in the other direction to overcorrect.

melissa's arm bumped into yours, sending your controller flying out of your hands.

"hey!" you said, thinking she was cheating.

"hey yourself," she said, her eyes still fixed on the screen.

if she was gonna play dirty, so were you. you thrust your arm forward to grab her controller. but she saw you coming from a mile away. effortlessly, she shifted the controller into her left hand alone and held it up and out of your reach.

desperately competitive (and stupid high), you launched yourself toward the controller. you'd stop at nothing to get even. before you could snatch it out of her grasp, though, your balance faltered. you fell out of your position and started to fall backwards off the couch.

melissa dropped the controller and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you back up before you could hurt yourself. there was only one problem with this heroic act.

you were in her lap now.

her hands remained clasped at the small of your back, and your balance shifted forward. you put your arms out for stability, and wrapped them around her neck.

"careful, don't hurt your pretty head," melissa cooed. the two of you stared at each other for a moment. she surged forward and pressed her lips to yours.

if sitting outside with her felt like floating, kissing her and feeling her body against yours felt like riding the ocean waves. but unlike the atlantic, she was warm. you relaxed into her warmth as her tongue licked into your mouth.

you felt her tongue everywhere. in response to her, you gave a few tentative kitten licks. she moaned, she moaned, and pulled back before giving you one last kiss on the lips.

she stared at you with heated eyes for a while before switching her focus to the tv.

"look, baby," she said smugly while gesturing to the tv screen, where luigi was driving victory laps after placing first on rainbow road. "i won. you remember what that means?"

it was a fair question, considering how many conversations you forgot happened tonight. still, you nodded shyly and bit your lip.

"smart girl," melissa praised. "can you guess what i want from you?"

you shook your head no with a frown. melissa beamed and kissed you on the forehead. then she leaned in to whisper in your ear.

"i wanna touch you everywhere. i wanna hear your pretty voice moan my name and see your face scrunch up when you come. i want you to feel me all over you, and i want you to spend the rest of your life craving that feeling," melissa said her piece all at once, as if revealing a long-buried secret to you and herself.

you swallowed.

"would you let me do that?"

you nodded, pressing your forehead against hers.

"i need to hear you say it," she said softly, so softly you almost missed it.

"i want you, melissa. i have since the day we met."

that was all the confirmation melissa needed to attack your face and neck with kisses.

"sorry, let me just," melissa said as she pulled away abruptly and reached for the tv remote. she changed it to cable mode and navigated to the jazz music channel. "there we go, perfect."

"you're ridiculous," you giggled upon seeing melissa's proud face.

"honey," she leaned in to nip at your ear before whispering, "watch your mouth. you wanna be on my good side tonight, trust me."

you shuddered and wiggled in her lap, aching for her touch. a slow grin spread across her face and her hands found your legs, running up your thighs and lightly dragging her nails along your skin. they soon made their way up your waist to your breasts, cupping and squeezing them. melissa even took two fingernails and circled your nipples teasingly, to which you squeaked.

"do you know how many times i thought about havin' you like this?" melissa whispered. her voice was sweet like molasses and flowed right through you. you could feel your nipples tingling where her fingers had been, swimming in a bubble of desire. "in my lap, all whiny and squirmy."

she pinched your nipple and you keened. you held your breath as her hands once again traveled to your thighs, making a beeline for your core.

"and now i got my angel in my arms," she said, gently spreading your legs for better access. you sucked in a breath and trembled when her palm caressed you through your panties. "but i gotta say, even in my imagination you were never this wet for me."

she punctuated the sentence by pressing her pointer finger on your clit through the fabric, drawing tiny circles. you gasped and hid your face in her neck. the high made every touch feel like it rippled through your whole body. the world felt like it had been knocked off its axis, and melissa was your new center of gravity.

"aw, don't be embarrassed, babygirl. it's cute you're so sensitive," melissa soothed, easing you out of the crook of her neck to face her again. she trailed her fingers down to swirl around your wetness under your panties. "let me take care of you, yeah?"

---

a few minutes later, you were spread out on melissa's bed, naked save for your (now useless) panties. she'd practically carried you to her room as you were baked and horny and unable to walk straight.

in spite of your writhing and needy whines, the redhead took her time to savor you. she kissed every inch of your torso before she even considered taking your panties off, mumbling sweet nothings between love bites.

when she finally pulled away to admire her work, the view did not disappoint. you were panting and covered in melissa's marks, and god, you were her favorite piece of art ever created. all hers.

"alright, sweet girl, i know," she cooed as you continued to plead for her touch with your best pout and puppy eyes. unable to resist you, melissa hooked two fingers in the waistband of your panties. "i'm gonna slip these off ya, okay? there, down they go."

melissa discreetly tucked the saturated material into her pocket. not as a trophy or proof of her conquest; rather, a token from the first of many magical nights with her girl. she would treasure it.

she wasted no time getting situated between your legs so she was face-to-face with your pussy. she inhaled deeply, basking in the heady aroma of your arousal. you overwhelmed her senses. everything she saw, everything she smelled, everything she felt, everything she thought—it was all one big, bottomless pool of you. and there was only one sense left for you to conquer.

the first drag of her tongue up your slit set you ablaze, flames licking from your core all the way to your extremities and your head. she let out a small noise of appreciation, and you felt it more than you heard it.

"you taste like fuckin' heaven," melissa rumbled between determined licks through your folds. her comment reminded you of the pizza, and you found yourself amused at how much things had changed in just a few hours.

"last-meal-on-death-row good?" you joked, and melissa seized the moment of levity to latch onto your clit. you cried out before remembering jacob was sleeping in the next room. you clapped a hand over your mouth.

"mhmmmmm," she moaned in agreement, and the vibrations on your bundle felt incredible. "but if you're still crackin' jokes, i'm not doin' my job."

with that, she shut you up completely. her tongue poked at your clit between harsh sucks. your back arched and melissa changed her strategy, prodding at your entrance with her tongue while her fingers took over on your clit. when her tongue penetrated you, you bit down on your hand to keep from screaming.

"i said i wanna hear you, remember?" melissa pulled out to chastise you.

"but jacob—" you managed.

"is passed out. he's dead to the world. now sing for me, angel," melissa's tongue dove back into your weeping cunt and lapped at your walls. you wailed her name.

"oh, mel, right—ahhh—there!" you mewled as her tongue teased your most sensitive spot. now that she'd located her target, melissa changed her play once again. two fingers replaced her tongue and crooked into your g-spot while her mouth returned to your clit. "close..."

melissa nodded her permission, her mouth busy with your button. with another hard roll of your clit between her lips and drive of her fingers into your sweet spot, you fell apart. you moaned and cried unbidden as she worked you through your orgasm, which felt twice as powerful thanks to the intoxication factor. your body shook in the grip of seemingly endless waves of heat.

your climax eventually died down and you squirmed away from melissa's touch. your mouth opened in dismay when instead of staying by your side, she stood up and disappeared into her closet.

after a short while, the older woman reappeared by your side. she was now nude and sporting a long, girthy strap-on. she placed a few other items on the nightstand, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the thick faux cock. unless it was to look at her gorgeous tits, which swung with her every move. she was a goddess.

"okay, sweets, i'm gonna spell this out nice and slow because i know your brain is a little messy right now," she said as she crawled on top of you. "i'm gonna fuck you with my strap. and i know it's so big, but i have this to help you take it."

melissa reached over to the nightstand and retrieved a green mini wand vibrator. her intentions were clear, and you gulped. the redhead peppered kisses all over your face in reassurance.

"now relax, little love. let me in," melissa instructed as the wand buzzed to life. she smeared your wetness around your clit with her fingers, then pulled back its hood to position the vibrator tightly against your nub. even the lowest setting was a shock at such a direct angle.

while you were distracted trying to adjust to the clitoral stimulation, melissa aligned the tip of the dildo with your entrance and pushed in. you both groaned, and you felt yourself stretch around the toy. melissa turned up the vibrations on your clit as she progressed to being fully seated inside you.

"that's a good girl, so brave," melissa cooed. you thrashed underneath her, the sensations overstimulating you. the pain of the intrusion staved off a powerful orgasm from the wand vibrator.

again, you wondered if the drugs were messing with your mind—the dildo felt indistinguishable from a part of mel's body, and you were full to the brim of her.

as she began to rock her hips back and forth, you saw her bite her lip. you assumed that the strap had some kind of clit attachment for her based on the telltale signs of pleasure.

melissa built up a steady rhythm and drank in your pathetic sounds of pleasure. her tits swung in your face with every thrust, and you made a mental note to give them proper attention next time. with another tactical increase to the wand's speed, you felt yourself approaching the edge once more.

"you gettin' close? yeah, i can tell. feels too good to hide it, huh bunny?" that was a new one. you clenched at her words and she set the wand to its maximum power, rubbing it up and down on your clit. your vision went white and you spun out of reality as you came. "that's my girl. good little princess, coming so hard for me."

with a few more thrusts, melissa also came to a release. she shuddered and shimmied her hips at random while she rode it out. as soon as she recovered, she turned off the green wand and relieved you. next, she eased herself out of and off of you.

with a chaste peck to your lips, she sat upright and reached for the nightstand. she smiled at your fucked-out expression as she laid out the pajamas she'd picked out for you.

you watched in awe as she took off the strap and put on her own sleep clothes. her red hair was wild from the night's activities and glowed like a warm hearth against the white backdrop of her walls.

in your state, you wanted nothing more than to cuddle up with melissa and fall asleep. but she insisted that you get ready for bed so that you'd be comfortable through the night. she guided you into the bathroom and gave you a new toothbrush to use.

returning to the bedroom, you found a silky green nightgown with flowers on it waiting on the bed for you. given your exhausted and intoxicated state, melissa had to help you into it. neither of you minded. as a reward for your cooperation, she gave you a kiss.

the two of you snuggled into bed, tucked in together with you curled up against her chest. the tides of slumber lapped at your feet.

"g'night, lovebug," melissa whispered as you drifted off. "sleep well. see you in the morning."

and tomorrow would be the first of a lifetime of tomorrows waking up in her arms.

[gilverrwrites]

Skinny Dipping

Pairing: Dean WInchester/F!Reader

Authors note: This has the been the hardest, and biggest of my re-mastered fics so far. I’m pretty sure the original was an amalgamation of imagines from supernaturalimagine and dirtysupernaturalimagines but I couldn’t even guess at which imagines exactly. This is like, my 4th public/semi-public fic in like 3 months, I’m starting to feel like this is a kink I didn’t know I had.  Also, Metallica have not cancelled anything, don’t worry. (and I don’t know jack about cars, people that do, please don’t come for me, I really did try, k, thanks, bye.) 💖

Plot: Reader is a mechanic who Dean's been checking in on, and checking out for a while now. Dean has the perfect excuse to see her after baby breaks down nearby.

Rating: M/18+

Words: 2936

Content: Swearing, consumption of alcohol, reckless drunken/tipsy behaviour, being submerged underwater, skinny dipping, teasing, brief retraining, size-difference, dry-humping, (or I guess wet-humping), semi-public sex, unprotected sex, p in v, water sex, mild angst.

Please remember: If you never try, you’ll never know.

You switch off the radio, listening to the purr of your car's ignition as you pull up behind a familiar black impala. It was a beauty, but it was nothing compared to your ‘70 boss. You watched as its owner climbed out of the front seat and headed towards you.

Its owner being your old friend Dean Winchester. He and his brother had saved you from a coven of witches a few years back, and ever since he’s been popping back into your life every few months. ‘Working on a case nearby’, ‘just passing through’, ‘baby needs a new compressor’. Every visit he laid the flirting on thicker. You weren’t sure if he was just joking around with you, or if he was serious, or if he saw you as a challenge. Either way you’d been making him work for it. Today it just so happened that his car had broken down a few miles out from your shop, the perfect excuse to see you on a Friday night.

You were pulled from your train of thought by a light tapping on your window. You snapped your head to the side to see Dean hovering over your door. His familiar smile set your heart racing. Okay, so maybe his seduction tactics were working, he was hot, who could blame you?

“Is there a problem, officer?” You joked, rolling down your window.

Dean rested an arm on the hood and leaned in. “No, no, just a routine check.” You knew he impersonated officers and agents all the time, but you hadn’t seen it firsthand. It was impressive how easily he slid into character.

“I am, however, gonna have to ask you to step out of the vehicle for a full strip search.”

Act ruined.

“At least buy me drink first.” You quipped.

“If you can help me, I’ll buy you a whole dinner.” He winked and opened the car door from the outside. You raised your brows at him but climbed out anyway before making a b-line for the impala’s engine.

“What’s wrong?” You directed your question to the car in the same tone you would address a small child or animal, gently rubbing a hand across its roof as you walked beside it. "Has someone been neglecting you?”

“Hey!” Dean barked, clearly offended. “I take better care of this baby than I do myself.”

At that you looked back over at him. He’d forgone his usual flannel today, leaving him in a pair of jeans that hugged him in all the right places and a grey t-shirt that clung tight and accentuated his broad chest. By the time your eyes reached his face, Dean was sporting a wicked grin, clearly ecstatic to have caught you checking him out. You avoid his smug gaze by popping the hood of his car to take a look at the engine.

“You weren’t kidding.” You whistled; Dean really was taking care of the thing.  The motor was almost gleaming. You felt his warm hand suddenly press against your lower back and turn to look up at him. The expression on his face could only be described as that of a proud father.

“Yeah.” He agreed before pointing to the main battery with his free hand: “This is the problem. It’s busted.”

“Ah, you’re gonna need a new one. I’m surprised you don’t keep a spare.” 

“Yeah.” To his credit, he looked pretty sheepish. “I normally do, but guess I forgot when the last one went out.”

“I don’t have one.” You said, pursing your lips to express your sympathies.

Dean didn’t respond, biting his lip while he waited for you to continue.

“But I could give you a jump start if you gotta head out soon.” You bring the hood back down and start heading to the boot of your car.

“No good,” Dean calls after you. “I’m not in a rush, but I don’t have enough gas to get me where I’m going.”

“Well… I’ve got a guy. He’s a few towns over. He’s closed at this time.” You inform as you open your boot and pull out your tow rope, flashing it to Dean with a smile. I can tow you into town for tonight, then drive you there and back in the morning.”

“I knew I could count on you!”

An hour later, you’d slowly but surely managed to drag Dean and his baby back into town, argued with him about him staying at a motel or on your couch (you’d won), and successfully swindled him into buying you that dinner he’d promised. Dinner being take-put pizza and over-priced ice-cream. Now, the two of you were sitting in your backyard, sharing the aforementioned ice-cream and an old bottle of Jack Daniels you’d pulled from the back of your cupboards. 

“So,” Dean began, his speech slurred by the spoon hanging from his mouth. How’s the garage doin’?”

You take a sip of the JD and proceed to suck on your teeth as you consider how to respond.

“Honestly, bad. Ever since that shitty corporate place set up shop down the road, we’ve been going downhill.” You punctuate your statement with another sip from the bottle before offering it to Dean. “I’m keeping it up and running by tooth and claw, but truthfully, it’s probably only got a few months left in it.” 

He gives you a sombre smile as he exchanges the tub of ice cream for the bottle. It's a touchy subject, but you can’t help admiring the way his neck moves as he tilts his head back to drink. You avert your eyes by scooping up the last bit of cold, sugary goodness and placing the empty container on the grass beside you.

“That sucks.” He places a hand on your shoulder, attempting to offer comfort. “That really sucks. Do you have a back-up plan?”

You grab the bottle back from Dean and take another sip before answering.

“I dunno. Sometimes I think about doing what you do. Kinda.” You begin. You don’t miss the way his entire body stiffens before you clarify. “Without the monsters. Just hit the road, get drunk at every bar in the country, visit Disney, become Metallica groupie, an-”

“You know they cancelled that tour, right?” Dean butts in.

“WHAT?” You shake his hand off and stare up at him in disbelief.

“Yeah.” He shrugs. The smile on his face is anything but sympathetic.

“Bastards.” You cross your arms and pout dramatically. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but the laugh that escapes Dean's lips is magical, and you can’t help but join in. When he returns his hand to your shoulder, this time reaching for the furthest from him, thus wrapping himself around you, your skin tingles, and you let yourself fall into him.

As the two of you slowly seize your giggling, Dean checks his watch. He quirks an evocative brow at you when he speaks, “It’s getting late. Maybe we should head inside?”

You mull it over, dramatically swaying your head from side to side before you voice your decision. “Actually, I have a better idea.”

You stand up, offering your hand to Dean, who eyes you sceptically. Nevertheless, he takes the bait, placing his hand in yours and allowing you to lead him toward the footpath just outside your garden.

“Where are you taking me?” he asks, and you can sense the caution in his voice. You assume it’s the hunter in him being paranoid, and you know for a fact that his free hand is hovering over the knife he keeps tucked into the back of his jeans at all times.

“I’m taking you here,” you answer as you pull him through the last set of trees and onto the shore of the local lake. You scan the surrounding area as you kick off your shoes. Satisfied that nobody is nearby, you start pulling off your trousers.

As you bend down to pull your socks off, you look up at Dean. He’s staring back at you intensely, mouth open, cheeks pink.

When you start pulling your top over your head you feel his fingers lightly brush against your hips. He’d stepped closer, and you’re tempted to touch him back or to reach up and kiss him. But you don’t. Instead, you throw your top over his head and sprint for the water.

“RACE YOU!” You challenge, discarding your bra and panties before you reach the water and forward dive in. Dean follows you moments later with a cannonball that splashes your face just as you’re resurfacing from your own dive.

“Fuck! That’s colder than I expected.” You yell to him.

“I’ll warm you up.” Dean replies as he swims close to you. You let his hands return to your hips, not expecting it when he dunks you back under the water.

You cough and splurge as he brings you back up. You flail your arms around until you find the top of his head, and you cling to him for dear life, but Deans is stronger, taller, and he’s found solid ground to plant his feet onto below the water. He escapes your grip and throws you under again.

“STOP. MERCY!” You yell when you come back up. This time, you use your legs for safety, wrapping them around his hips. You'd be safe if you could just get a grip on his arms. You’d been too distracted to notice his erection until you feel it poking at you. You’re about to make a comment about it, but Dean speaks first.

“You’re cute when you’re scared.” He laughs, you silence him with a swift but playful punch to the chest. In defence he grabs at your wrists, able to trap both in just one of his hands. His other hand slides up your arms, over your shoulder, your neck, until he reaches your cheek. He leisurely rubs his thumb against your wet skin.

You stay like that for a while, watching each other, before you finally ask, “Are you gonna kiss me or what?”

Without any further hesitation Dean lunges forward, forcing his lips against yours. His kiss is hard and animalistic; he skips straight past the pecking and teasing to roaming your mouth with his tongue. His fingers leave your cheek and weave into your hair, holding you against him, his stubble scratches against your skin.

In a play for dominance, you dart your own tongue out, grazing his chapped lips, but he denies you. Instead, he pulls away from your lips, refocusing his attention on nipping and kissing at your jaw, neck, and collarbone.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been imagining this.” He utters onto your skin.

“What, this exact scenario?” You joke.

“Not exactly.” He lets out a breathy chuckle, and the gust of air against your skin makes you tremble.

“Then what?” You challenge. Your inability to touch him is frustrating you. In an attempt to stimulate him back, you grip your legs around him tighter, using him as leverage to grind against him. The tip of his cock doesn’t quite reach your clit, but its added pressure helps it spread your lips. “Tell me.”

He drops his hand from your head, and cups it under your asscheek. Firmly guiding you up and down, assisting you in rutting against his cock. Shakey breaths become grunts, and after a few seconds he releases your wrists so that he can grip you with both hands. Free to move, you shimmy down his body until you can feel his dick brush against your clit with each grind.

“Come on, tell me.” You plead, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair, your grip tightening every time he hits your sweet spot. You know he's not shy, that he’s just getting lost in the feeling, and it pains you to say it, but eventually, you taunt. “I’m not gonna fuck you if you don’t tell me.”

He whimpers at your empty threat but finally confesses. “Just you. Your body, under me. Every night, I think about how you’d look, how you’d feel squirming, moaning my name.”

“Fuck. That’s hot.” You reply and he smiles as you plant your lips against his once again.

“Can I fuck you now?” He asks, speech slurred as he tries to speak between kisses.

“Yes.” You respond instantly, pulling back to look him in the eye. “Please fuck me, Dean.”

He doesn’t hesitate. His grip on your ass is like a vice as he lifts you up slightly. You both work in sync to position yourselves just right until he lowers you onto his cock, slowly pressing into you. There’s some resistance as he stretches your walls, but the sound of his whispered praises helps you relax until he finally bottoms out, stretching you in all the right places.

“Fuck, that feels so good. You took me so well.” He affirms, and even though he’s already balls deep, you can’t help the heat that spreads across your face.

He begins lifting you again before you can respond, sliding you up and down his cock in slow, steady movements. You grip tight to his shoulders and hips with your hands and knees, using them as leverage points to help move your body up and down. Each thrush is slow and shallow, but Dean seems to be loving it; his head rolls back, and he releases breathy moans with every rock.

“Shit.” You shout, holding tighter still when Dean unexpectedly shifts below you, repositioning his legs to a sturdier position. You watch through hazy eyes as he reaches up and grips your hand, before guiding it down the tight space between your bodies. You get the message quickly, and begin rubbing your clit in lazy circles, keeping in time with the pace of Dean's cock.

The added stimulation had your toes curling in no time. When your pussy starts clenching around Dean’s cock, you see the sudden concentration in his face. His brow furrows, and he bites his lip as he focuses on riding you through your orgasm. The sight was the final push you need to take you over the edge.

“Fuck, Dean. Fuck fuck fuck, that feels good.” You cry out as you hit your climax.

“Keep saying my name, baby.” Dean begs as he continues rolling your hips together. You feel his body shake as he starts to struggle with your combined weights as he chases his own release.

You try to assist, desperately pumping yourself up and down despite the newfound sensitivity as you chant his name.

“Fuck, yes baby.” You feel the twitch of his cock inside you. He buries his head in the crook of your neck as he hits his orgasm, rutting his cock as deep as he can as he cums inside you. “oohhh yeah.”

You stay in position for a long time following, holding on tight to each other, listening to each other's breathing as you come back down, until Dean guides your body backwards so that you’re face to face again. “How you feelin’?”

“Good.” You reply with a smile.

“Good.” He grins at you mischievously before plunging backwards into the water, taking you with him.

“So, was that everything you imagined it to be?”

He purses his lips in thought before teasingly responding. “Eh, it wasn’t bad.”

You both laugh as you lay your head down on Dean's bare chest; his arms envelop your body as you both blankly look up at the stars. You play with the hem of the shirt you’d stolen from him when you emerged from the water and re-dressed.

“You should do it.” Dean says when you're both fully settled down.

“Do what?” You query, popping your head up to look at him, unsure what he’s talking about.

“Hit the road.” He clarifies, revisiting your earlier conversation. “I mean, life on the road isn’t easy or sustainable, trust me, I know.”

“But…” You prompt, knowing fully that he wasn’t going to stop there.

“But it could be fun for a while. If it’s what you wanna do. Hell, I’d totally be a roadie if… you know.”

“I know,” You reply. You’re smiling at him, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. The reminder of your failing business stung, but you didn’t want it to spoil your night. You lean forward, caressing his cheek; his stubble feels rough against your fingers. You gently pull his face forward and plant a chaste kiss on his lips. “I might. I probably will. If it comes to it.”

“I can’t come with you.” He says when you lean away. You hadn’t expected him to want to come with you. Hoped, maybe? But you knew it wasn’t a possibility.

“I know.” You repeat.

He carefully reaches up to run his hand across your damp hair as he pulls you in for another kiss. This one is longer, softer than any you’d shared all night. When you’re done, he lets his head fall back against the ground, and you perch yourself against his chest once more. 

“You’ll still call me though, right?”

“Always.” He replies instantly. “You’re my best girl. Well, second-best girl.”

“The car?” You ask deadpan. Of course, the car is his number one.

“Who else?” He replies shamelessly.

You’re not sure how long you stayed like that, entwined in each other’s arms, spent and damp under the stars, until eventually, you feel your lids growing heavy. You fight it for a while, willing yourself to remain awake, until eventually your tiredness wins out. You cuddle closer into the warmth of Dean's chest as you fall asleep.

[noosayog]

gravitate ft. miya atsumu

wc: 2.2k part 2 of 2

part 1

contents/warnings: fwb dynamic, a lil bit of jealousyyy <3, angst to fluff, suggestive but sfw, she/her! reader, referred to as girlfriend, wife, reader has minor social anxiety

Atsumu thinks he did the right thing. 

It’s the truth after all, that even if he got a committed partner now, he wouldn’t be able to give them the time and attention they deserve. 

It’s the responsible thing to do. 

Never mind the fact that he’s fallen absolutely head over heels for you. It’s okay, though, because you had always seemed so on board with casual. At the end of the day, he’d only be hurting himself by getting more involved with you; you were the better one at drawing boundaries and saying goodbye.

Yet, after that night, he’s never been more grateful for a lull in the season, a brief break before the games begin again. He could dedicate time to practicing and conditioning and more importantly, no games meant no afterparties for him to give himself the wrong idea.

The idea that you might also have feelings for him. 

It’s wishful thinking right? He’s reading into the fact that you asked if he could wear his jersey right? Logically, he couldn’t stop you from wearing it, so why did you ask? Some roundabout way of asking if that would give all your friends the wrong idea? Of course it would. They would never miss out on a chance to clown him. 

All to say, the break in the season gives him some time away from you.

It’s all completely ironic though because all it does is gives him nothing but more time to think about you. The longer his runs are, the more time his brain has to drift to thoughts of you. At the gym, every rest interval between sets is spent remembering your smell, taste, sounds. And rest days, rest days were the worst. 

The time passes excruciatingly slowly and quickly at the same time until the season picks up and your unsaid meeting time comes around again. 

– 

A part of him had expected that you might not show up to the after-game party after what had gone down between the two of you. 

That’s if you even see what happened as note-worthy. 

So when you show up, laughing it up and enjoying yourself like nothing happened, he’s convinced that he did indeed make the right decision. This is and always has been casual to you, like what was agreed upon. It’s like a stab in the chest, but a foolish part of him thinks that means maybe the two of you will casually be drawn together at some point tonight and he’d be able to take you home and get the small piece of you he sees as his. 

But, damn, he had missed you. He can’t help the way his eyes drift to you every 5 minutes to see when he’ll finally be able to catch you alone. 

Typically, it wouldn’t take long, since he knows you tend to run low on social battery within a couple minutes of mingling. But tonight, you’re like a different person, talking and drinking all night. Every time he looks over at you, you’re a part of some circle of friends laughing like you’ve been friends forever. 

As the night drags on, Atsumu gets antsy, glancing over every other minute. He finally catches you when you break away from your group. 

“Hey,” he says, hoping he sounds significantly less – just less – than how he actually feels. “I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to you all night, miss Popular.” 

You raise a brow at him. 

“I haven’t seen you talk to this many people ever,” he jokes. 

You give him a weak smile at that. “So you think catching me during my one and only break is gonna win you any favors?” 

He relaxes a bit at the quip. “My company should count as a break.” 

You laugh and he grins back. At long last, the sound he’d been wanting to hear all night. Not aimed at some stranger, not the forced robotic sounds he knows you offer out of politeness. He’s about to throw his arm around you and lead you to someplace quiet when you seem to catch the eye of someone you know. You wave them over and he suppresses a groan. 

How many more minutes until he can have you to himself? 

A girl he dimly recognizes from some other gatherings wanders over to the two of you and Atsumu’s eyes narrow a fraction when you take half a step back to let her get closer to him. 

“Atsumu, this is Yukie. Yuki, this is Atsumu.” 

“Hi! Nice to meet you!” She comes in for a hug and almost instinctively, Atsumu shifts his body to turn it into a side hug. He pats once at her shoulder before pulling away but she keeps her hold around his side for one second too long to be friendly. 

“Well then,” he hears you say. His gaze whips to you, like knows what you’re about to do and can’t believe you’re doing it. “I’ll leave you kids to talk alone. I need to take a bathroom break. Don’t have too much fun!” 

Don’t have too much fun? He mocks you in his mind. Could you make it any more obvious? 

Atsumu pries the hand from his side off, intent on chasing you but Yukie steps in his path, starting to chat up a storm, leaving Atsumu frustrated but trying not to be rude. Something akin to rage starts to fill up in his gut, clouding his brain with impatience to end this conversation already and find you to figure out the what fuck your intentions are here.

He finally got one moment, just one moment alone with you after weeks of nothing and you just pass it off to someone else like you don’t give a damn. 

It takes several reassurances that he’d be seeing her again at other mutual friends’ gatherings to break away, and he immediately weaves through the crowd to find you. Fuck subtlety and whatever cat-and-mouse bullshit the two of you used to play.

He half expects you to have gone home; he could feel the social exhaustion oozing out of you in waves even in the couple of minutes he did manage to get with you. So imagine Atsumu’s surprise when he does indeed find you still present, chatting up Tobio-kun of all people. Sure, being high school friends with Shoyo-kun means you had the same relationship with Tobio, but why the fuck do you have a hand on his shoulder, doubling over with laughter as if listening to Tobio’s jokes made your whole night of small talk worth it. 

The red hot feeling bubbles over, and before he knows what he’s doing, he stomps over to rip your arm off Tobio’s shoulder. 

“What? You just pawn me off to some other girl so you can go off and find someone else for tonight?” 

Tobio, bless his heart, with all his social ineptitude picks up the cues and makes himself scarce. 

You shake Atsumu’s searing grip from your wrist and put some space between you two, but he’s not having it. He steps even closer, backing you up until you hit the wall. Suddenly, the hallway seems too empty, too quiet. Atsumu doesn’t hear anything over the roaring in his ears anyway. 

You only look at him for a moment before closing your eyes and turning away. “What are you talking about, Atsumu? It's not that seri-” 

“It is and you fuckin’ know it.” 

“Atsumu, I don’t think this is the place to talk about this– ” 

“So come over to mine. Let’s talk.” 

“Atsumu…” 

“Please,” he’s damn near begging, one degree from being on his knees.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

He grabs your chin and forces you to look right into his eyes. “And why not? I think we both know something happened tonight that we need to talk about.” 

“Tonight?” you echo. You slap his hands away and shove at his chest, forcing him half a step back. “Something happened last time too and you didn’t seem to wanna talk about it then. Well, now it’s my turn to tell you. Nothing happened tonight, so there’s nothing to talk about.” 

His chest aches, so much so that he can’t get any words out as he processes what you’ve just said. So he didn’t do the right thing after all. 

The aching intensifies hearing you refer to whatever went down tonight between you two as “nothing.” 

He takes a deep, heavy inhale before eking out, “don’t say that, baby. I’m sorry. Can we please talk about this?” 

“I don’t want to. In fact, Atsumu, I don’t think we should-” see each other anymore. 

“No,” he cuts you off. “Whatever it is you’re about to say, my answer is no and that’s final.” 

“And what I want doesn’t matter?”

“It does! But I won't allow you to make that decision for us until we talk properly.” 

“I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you anymore.” 

“Just-” 

What should he say? What can he say? He’s running out of words to convince you and you’re not budging. It’s pure panic that arises in his throat when he watches you desperately try to pry his fingers off your wrist. 

He grips tighter. He has a feeling that if he gives up now, it would be that easy for you to venture beyond his reach. You’d never come to another one of these gatherings. Maybe he’d get a glimpse of you at a game against Tobio, you wearing an Adlers jersey with a #20 printed in the back and fuck- 

That’s such a terrible image, he almost feels like physically doubling over to soothe the stabbing jealousy in his chest. 

“I love you,” he utters out. 

“What?” 

His forehead comes down to rest on yours, pouring out his entire being into those three words again. “I love you.” 

“Atsumu! That is not casual!” you whisper urgently. 

He can’t help but laugh. It’s a mixture of relief that the confession has finally freed itself from the confines of his ribcage and at your alarmed but adorably frank comment. 

“No,” he agrees. “It’s not.” 

“So then… why did you… that night…” 

“That night, I was an idiot that didn’t realize how much I felt for you. I took for granted that I’d always be able to see you again like this and have you like I always have. But I don’t wanna live on hope or ‘next time’ anymore. I wanna know that I can and when I will see you again.” 

Foreheads still pressed against another, he leaves you with nowhere to run. You close your eyes. He does too. 

“So will you please come home with me so we can figure this out together?” 

Much like that very first night at the bar, you waver between going back out to the party or staying with him. He sees the indecision in your eyes and for those few moments, he walks on a tightrope and you hold the scissors. 

“Okay,” you whisper, so quiet it barely makes a sound. 

–

“Missed you so damn much.” 

“Atsumu, wait-” 

It’s immediate when his door swings open. Suddenly, you’re pressed against the wall and the door slams shut. Atsumu pushes closer one leg forcefully opening yours up and picking you up by the thighs. With nowhere to run, you wrap your legs around his waist and open up for Atumu to deepen the kiss. 

“Thought we were gonna talk,” he hears you say between breaths. 

“Later,” he rasps, kissing you harder and starting to rock his hips against you. “Missed you so fuckin’ much.” 

“Me too,” you admit quietly and that’s all you get to say before you succumb to his desperation. 

– 

“You know,” you say, much later that night as you rest your cheek on his chest. “You still owe me an explanation. Just ‘cause we slept together doesn’t mean I totally forgive you.” 

Atsumu considers making a quip about how you being here with him, drawing indiscernible patterns on his torso with your finger, wearing his clothes, sleeping in his bed, smelling like him is making it look pretty good for him, but he figures he flew way to close to the sun for today. 

“I know. And I promise we’ll talk more. No more dinin’ and dashin’ in the mornin’, yeah?” 

You consider this for a moment, before propping both arms on his chest and resting your head on your fists thoughtfully. 

He thinks it's the cutest thing he’s ever seen. 

“Just so I don’t misunderstand anything again-”

“You’re not misunderstanding anything, I promise.”

“I know, but I have to hear it.” 

“Will you be my wife?” 

“Atsumu!” 

“Okay, okay sorry. We’ll do that later then. Can we start with girlfriend?” 

“Hmm… I’ll need to think about it. Not sure how I feel about a guy who goes straight to home plate before he even takes me out to dinner.” 

“Y’know what, now that you mention it, I don’t know how I feel about a girl who goes home with a guy she just met-” 

“Shut up.” you snort and something’s definitely not right because every sound you make is the most adorable thing. He swears he’s got hearts in his eyes.

“And ‘Tsumu?” 

Lovestruck, he croons, “yeah, darlin’?” 

“I’d love to be your fiance.” 

“That’s my girl.”

[lovebugism]

band!eddie and reader finally having some alone time in the tour bus *wink wink*

18+ rockstar!eddie universe <3

It was one of those rare occasions where the rest of the band wanted to go out and you wanted to stay in. There hadn’t even been a show that day, just interview after interview after interview. It left your social battery at an all time low. So when Jeff and Gareth wanted to barhop the night away, you lamented that you were way too tired to accompany them. 

And Eddie, being the nice guy he was, opted to stay in with you. “Someone’s gotta make sure the lady stays safe. Wouldn’t want someone to steal ya,” he’d half-joked.

You scoffed. “Because, god forbid, you lose your bassist, right?”

“Well, if I lost you, I think I’d die, but…  yeah, having to find a replacement would definitely be more emotionally taxing.”

Eddie Munson was the only person in the world who could rival your sarcasm. It was so easy for the both of you to cover up a sweet thing with something so playfully sour. The boy finishes his quip with a stupid, lovedrunk grin that nearly makes you melt. 

“Obviously,” you retort.

The rest of the boys disappear for the next several hours, enough for the sun to have set and stars to sprinkle the sky. If you had to guess, they’ve probably got a running bet on how many bars they could get free drinks from. It’ll go on until they can’t see straight anymore, no winners or losers — unless you count your manager, who’ll no doubt have to escort them back to the bus. 

With them gone, the bus is practically silent for the first time all tour. There is no boyish yelling or tuning guitars or video games. There’s not even the muffled sound of tires on gravel with the tour bus parked. It’s total silence filled only with the faint sounds of Charlie’s Angels coming from the common area. The episode is practically on mute, though, because Eddie knows you’re tired and doesn’t want to disturb you.

The soft quiet ushers you into its velvet arms. It almost lulls you to sleep several times over, but something in the back of your mind refuses to let you slumber. You were annoyed at first. You were squirming in your tiny bunk for nearly an hour until you realized you were filled with a need of a different kind.

You didn’t need sleep. You needed Eddie. Like a child needs their baby’s blanket — you can’t be without him for too long, or you might start screaming. The sudden ache to be close to him hits you like a freight train.

The sliding door of the bunks glides open with a mechanical schlick. You lean against the frame of it, clad only in a too big shirt that probably belonged to all the boys before it got to you, and admire your boy in his element.

He’s all spread out on the leather couch, curly hair untamed and in a messy chestnut halo on his head. He wears a piece of outdated Corroded Coffin merch from back when you only played gigs at The Hideout. The shirt clings to his torso while a pair of old pajama pants hang low on his hips.

Eddie’s eyes are firmly trained on the small television in the corner of the bus. The chocolate of them dart around the screen as Farrah Fawcett turns flips beneath a shoddy cable service. He barely acknowledges your presence, too engrossed in the climax of his show.

“Thought you were sleeping,” he says without looking at you.

“I’m too bored to sleep,” you practically whine. 

Your feet shuffle along the carpeted floor as you walk the short distance to him. You all but flop onto the couch at his side, burying your face into the warmth of his neck.

“What do you mean you’re too bored to sleep?” he mocks with a soft laugh. He turns to press his lips to your head, not exactly kissing you there, just resting against you. His words are muffled: “Why didn’t you go out with Jeff and Gareth?”

“Didn’t want to,” you answer shortly.

“Solid answer,” he nods. “What do you wanna do then?”

He doesn’t necessarily mean it suggestively. He’d probably go lie in traffic if it’d make you less bored, he loves you so damn much — but fuck if a million dirty things don’t pop into your head all at once.

It’s practically the first time you’ve been alone all tour. 

Now that you think about it, every time you’ve fucked Eddie, it’s been at the discretion of prying eyes just behind a door or in a room over. Hotels are few and far between, and you and your boys are the tightest clan the universe has ever seen, so it leaves little room for opportunity time for you and Eddie.

But here you were now, with no one around, and practically all the time in the world (or rather, until sunrise, when the rest of the band shuffled back onto the bus).

“I don’t know,” you lilt, though you’re already hooking a leg over his thighs.

Eddie feels like a teenage boy all over again as you settle onto his lap. A wide grin tugs slow at the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t bother to hide his excitement. “What are ya doin’, doll?”

“Nothin’,” you shrug, feigning innocence, like you’re not slipping your fingers through the hem of his pants. The tips of them inch into his boxers and trail down the thin patch of coarse hair there with a touch that’s smoother than water.

His cock is already half-hard when you take him into your hands, warm and soft and stiffening in your grip. Eddie exhales deeply through his nose at your gentle caressing, his gaze now turned down to where work him harder.

“Keep watching your show, baby,” you tease with a knowing grin as you slip his dick from the confines of his pajamas.

“How can I—” he tries to joke, but the words get lost in his throat when you slide your panties to the side. He goes instantly stupid at the sight of your slick collecting along the manicured thatch of pubic hair just above your pussy. His brain all but ceases to function when you rub yourself along him, drenched folds parting to welcome the bulbous tip of his cock.

You feel like silk, he concludes, or maybe something somehow softer. 

Eddie swallows thickly while his obedient hands settle on your hips to steady you. He continues, this time with a tremble in his voice. “How can I when you’re pullin’ this shit, huh?” his button eyes flit back up to look at you, a smirk forming on his pink lips. “You just wanna ride me, huh? That’s what you need?”

You don’t answer him. You’re barely listening, if you’re honest, too concentrated on positioning him at your opening. You gasp softly when you pierce yourself with him, then exhale low moans as you sink slowly onto his cock. The burn is a minimal one, somewhere in your lower tummy, that washes away with a flood of velvet-coated pleasure. 

Eddie fills you so perfectly, just like he always does, like he was made to be seated inside you.

“Well, this is an excellent way to pass the time, if I do say so myself,” he manages to quip through bated exhales from where he’d been holding his breath. You rock your hips over his lap without warning. His pink lips form a tight line as something short of a growl bubbles in his throat and rumbles in his chest.

You watch with a proud grin as his eyes flutter shut and his head falls back. You push his curls over his shoulder to press open-mouthed kisses along the pale expanse of his neck, occasionally dragging your teeth along the milky white tendon there.

Eddie hums to himself when he feels you mewl softly against his skin. Your hips sway back and forth over his thighs, moving to a rhythm of their own accord — all slow and methodical. It’s a pace that always gets him pussy drunk. A steady rise and fall that forces him to feel all of you and makes him swear that you’re some kind of succubus.

“Oh my god,” he says within a dragged out exhale. He starts to babble to himself while you work yourself over his lap. “Fuck me… This is so… so fucking hot. Shit— your pussy is so good to be, doll…”

He forces himself to open his heavy eyes to watch you mount him. His chin tilts down towards his chest and he shifts his hips so he has the perfect view of you. Your honey coats his lap, leaving his cock and pubic hair glistening with your slick. The sight of him all shiny with you makes him dizzy.

His palm leaves your hip and seeks purchase on your ass, not really thinking about it, just gravitating to hold you there. He grips you with guitar-string calloused hands that encourage you to rock harder against him.

Your hand trails from his shoulder down to where the two of you meet. You start to rub your clit with a lust-fueled fervor that just about makes him implode. You whine when your fingers meet the sensitive button, clenching somehow tighter around him as your pleasure begins to crescendo.

“That feel good?” he wonders through bated breaths. His hand leaves your ass, rising for no more than a moment, only to come down again in a practiced slap that makes you jolt against him. The sting of his palm adds gasoline to the simmering embers of your impending orgasm.

You whine, louder this time, arching your back and keening shamelessly against him.

It makes him grin. “Huh? Feels good on your pretty little clit, doesn’t it, doll?”

“Fuck yes…” you cry through a tight throat. “Feels so good, Eddie— fuck.”

Your hips lose their rhythm as your body fights to find its own pleasure. 

You’ve got his dick locked inside you with a grip so tight it’s got him seeing stars, and it makes him wonder if you’d stop. Like, if the boys barged in right now, would you keep going, too far gone and dumb on his cock not to see it through. 

Something about that, you riding him for all he’s worth, whining while you come on his cock with your friends watching — seeing firsthand who you belong to — makes him want to burst all at wants.

“God, this pussy’s amazin’, baby… ’S gonna— holy fuck… You’re gonna make me come if you keep riding me like this... Shit, yeah, just like that, doll.”

When you come, you do it together.

It’s a borderline spiritual feeling, one that doesn’t happen very often because Eddie’s usually adamant about you coming twice before he has the first time. But now, both of you are sensitive and whining through your orgasms, heaving out incorrigible moans and grasping tightly onto one another.

Eddie takes to fucking up into you while you reach your simultaneous highs. He grips you hard enough to leave bruises while his thighs audibly slap slap slap against your more slick ones. You cry at the oversensitivity — electric shocks that contrasts heavily with the warm feeling of his come spitting into your fluttering walls.

You shake violently in his hold, moaning his name over and over like it’s the only word you can remember. Your orgasm comes and goes, and you’re left whining pathetic Eddie, Eddie, Eddie’s into the mostly silent tour bus.

The boy isn’t in much better shape either. He fights off a cramp in his foot from where he’d curled his toes too tightly and blinks away burning tears that sing the backs of his eyes from coming so suddenly.

Your hips come to a slow stop over his lap, too quickly and yet not soon enough. You rest your forehead over his own, knocking your nose with his before you lean in to press several lazy pecks upon his lax mouth.

“See?” you manage to tease through heavy pants. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“I guess that wasn’t the worst idea you’ve ever had,” Eddie quips with a wide grin and eyes that are still slightly glazed with dispersing pleasure. He rubs his hands over the skin of your ass to soothe where he’d held you too tight. It’s soft, too soft for what he’s about to tell you. 

“Now, how about you spread yourself out on this couch and let me clean you up, ‘kay?”

[anilovie]

My Love, My Life

Summary: You and Anakin are on a supply-run and get caught in a storm, forcing you to find shelter amidst growing tensions.

WC: 9.3k

CW: MDNI, pwp, oral (f recieving), mild size kink, shared shower, lots of fluff

AN: I swear this whole thing was revealed to me in a vision.

You and Anakin had been watching the weather closely since being sent out in the dingy little transport ship. The mission was to deliver supplies and medical aid to an incognito Obi-Wan on the planet Leaze— before the storm got bad enough where travel became impossible. 

It was a simple mission, if not complicated by the sudden turn in their seasons, bringing forth a front of strong winds and heavy rains. Anakin could have even come himself, but the two of you played up the extent of Obi-Wan’s sustained injuries so that the Council would feel the need to send a medic – you – along for the ride as well. Any opportunity for you and Anakin to spend time together, you exploited. 

Really, Obi-Wan just sprained a wrist. He was low on food, water ammo, batteries, and his clothes had been all torn up in a nasty skirmish with some bounty hunters. “A joyride,” Anakin referred to this mission as. That is, until you began the descent into Leaze’s misty, swirling skies.

In between tracking his location and watching the weather radar, Anakin’s focus was on bringing you down to the ground safely — with a little more emphasis on safe, since you were here. Thus, his hands gripped the controls with a bit more force than normal, jaw clenched and brows furrowed as he met each gust of wind with a controlled parry. He pulled the shuttle through the misty skies, stabilizing the rocking foundations through the whipping winds that threatened to toss you right out of the air.

You weren’t sure how he could even see. The rain and leaves that had stuck to the window obliterated any view– he likely wasn’t even trying to see. You realized this as he answered Obi-Wan’s incoming call without even sparing a glance out the window, fingers flying over the dashboard, weathering the elements through intellect and feeling alone. 

“Anakin, Y/n, I trust that you’ve made it here safely,” Obi-Wan’s hologram displayed before you and Anakin. He looked alright – his disguise was off, for now, and he seemed to be someplace warm and out of the rain, a complete juxtaposition to the two of you.

As soon as the words warbled through, something slammed into the shuttle, rocking the foundations with an ominous groan as you began to plummet.

Anakin swore and yanked on the yoke, flicking some switches on the dashboard. “Working on it,” he bit through clenched teeth, huffing as the inferior ion engines sputtered and popped to life, breaking your fall. The shull continued to rattle and jerk, throwing you around in your seat despite being fully strapped up. 

“I can see that,” Obi-Wan quipped. “Well, once you make it to the ground, don’t bother coming to my location. The storm is worse than the reports have indicated. Find shelter for yourselves – I can hold out another day.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. It’ll do more harm than good forcing you out there in these conditions. I am safe where I am.”

“Which is where?”

The transmission cut out for a moment, shuttering off and on again as sheets of rain pelted the aluminum roof. You caught the last half of his explanation. “--they offered a room for the night, though at a high price. I hope you brought extra credits.”

“Some,” Anakin grit. 

“Perfect. Well, I won’t keep distracting you. It looks like you’ve got your hands full,” Obi-Wan bid goodbye, his cheery tone outlandish among your current predicament. “Happy landings,” he bid, and the transmission cut off.

Your fingers dug into your armrests, trusting Anakin’s skill to see that wish through. He was still deeply concentrated, and more than a little stressed as he pulled the yoke and typed over multiple colorful buttons. 

“Well, at least he’s safe,” you offered offhandedly, trying to diffuse the tension. Another hard gust of wind slammed into the hull, this time on your side, followed by a hard sheet of rain. You flinched. 

The lights had begun to flicker a while ago, and now they shut off completely, leaving you in the pitch black. Your sharp intake of air was audible, heart dropping to the pits of your stomach as the assault on the ship heightened.

“It’s okay, I did that on purpose,” Anakin explained. You could hear the strain in his voice, the clacking of his fingers over the overworked dashboard. “We need more power to the engines and thrusters. It’ll be a bumpy landing either way, but–”

“It’s okay,” you squeaked. 

“We’re almost there…”  

Bracing yourself, you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped the armrests, anticipation swirling around in your gut. You trusted him. You didn’t have to be so afraid. It was the weather you didn’t trust. Maker forbid you land in a pit of mud, swallowed up before you could escape. 

A sudden jolt threw you forward, the sickening screech of bolts and rods fighting to hold the metal panels of the shuttle together drowning out all other senses. Inertia pushed you forward in your seat, and you would have gone flying out the windshield if it weren’t for the double straps tightened over your chest, the lap belt, and the death grip you had on your armrests.

Slowly, the sliding of the shuttle ship began to slow, the tension in the shuttle easing, parts settling back into place. Then, the sounds of the vicious rain pelting the roof returned, your body relaxing against the seat with a huff, blinking your eyes open to the pitch blackness of the hull.

“You okay?” Anakin worried, clicking out of his own seatbelt to reach for you. 

You followed suit, fingers fumbling around in the dark for the clasps that would free you. “All good,” you released one set of straps, and Anakin found the two others for you. “Thanks.”

Another gust of wind nudged the shull forward, groaning under the pressure. Some lights flickered on, and there was Anakin fiddling with the control panel overhead so you could see. 

“I don’t think we can stay here for very long, unfortunately,” he said, and you weren’t sure you’d ever seen him look so stressed. “The ship appears to be sinking. We’ll have to pack a bag and get going.”

Abandon ship? In these conditions?

Again, your unshakable trust in him erased any fear in your mind. He’d done far riskier and more dangerous things – his own fear now was because of you. You’re safety. 

But you were fine – just a little shaky as you stood and reached for the supply crates in the back, rifling through them for necessities, tossing them to Anakin to shove into a bag. You managed to get half of what you’d originally planned to drop off for Obi-Wan into two bags. Anakin shrugged the larger one over his shoulders, and you took the smaller one.

You’d both come prepared, already wearing rain ponchos, but it seemed like they’d do little good as Anakin kicked the stuck door open. The sound of the rain coming down was deafening, a roaring torrent that could easily sweep you away. 

“Hold on to me,” Anakin yelled over the sound, and you hooked an arm around his, pulling you out of the ship with him.

Mud and rain splattered your face as your boots met the ground, and he immediately took off, dragging you with him. Again, your blind faith in him came in handy. All you could focus on was spluttering around the rain for any pocket of air you could find, trying to keep upright as your heels slipped and skidded in the mud, hoping you weren’t slowing Anakin down.

Of course you were slowing him down. You were no Jedi. But you both knew that, and he didn’t mind. Just wanted you out of the wind and rain so you wouldn’t catch a cold.

After what seemed like ages of the two of you fighting through the elements, narrowly avoiding trees and branches and sharp rocks, Anakin pointed out an abandoned shed in the distance. He ran for it, pulling you under the awning with him so he could pound on the door.

“No one’s here,” he spoke after a moment as you were still wiping water out of your eyes. Something clicked in the door, unlocking so Anakin could open it up and peer inside.

He found the light switch on the wall, flipping it up and down uselessly. “Power’s out,” he mumbled, searching around in the force for some mechanism of light. Apparently finding something, he released your hand. “I’ll be right back.”

You stood shivering by the closed door, dripping a puddle of water onto the ground as you waited for him to return. With your sight gone, your other senses were heightened – you could smell the dust of furniture long forgotten, hear the creeks of unkempt floorboards as Anakin explored the shed, and feel the bone-cold chill of the storm seeping in under the crack in the door. Wherever you were, it was very old, and likely abandoned.

Anakin came back around the corner brandishing a candle, shielding the flame with one hand as he made his way back to you.

“This looks like it was somebody’s home at one point,” he thought aloud, pointing to the way he just came. “That’s a kitchen over there, and there’s a loft with a bed in the back. Pretty sure I saw a shower, too. I can probably get the pumps running long enough to make use of it.”

You wouldn’t question how he could do that– sometimes it seemed like he had magical powers, even without the force. 

“Is there a fireplace?” you wondered, shaking off your drenched poncho and stepping further in now that you could see. “Maybe I could heat up some water to use, warm this place up a bit, too.”

Anakin held the candle out before him, casting shadows over the interior of the little shed. Right in front of the door was a wooden stairway – more of a ladder – that led to what you assumed was an attic. Deciding to avoid any bats or rodents, you agreed to keep that shut and rounded the ladder to what looked like a tiny living room opposite the kitchen, separated by a thin wall.

A couple threadbare sofa-chairs sat dusty and weathered on the dull carpet, a table set before the both of them, and – jackpot – a little stone fireplace in the corner.

“The wood from outside is too wet to burn,” Anakin poked at the empty log pit. “But I could break down that table and use it as fuel…”

“Good idea,” you chirped, taking the candle from Anakin to free up his hands for the task. “I’ll go look for more candles and matches.”

The kitchen was just as tiny, standing room only and no dining table. It consisted of a slab of wood for a counter, an empty ice box that was cracked down the middle, and some drawers which were also mostly empty.

One of the cupboard up top held a few random supplies, mostly rubber bands and bottle caps and dead batteries. But amid that was a bag of little tea candles, a few larger ones made of a slippery wax, and a box of matches. Half were no good, but you only needed to light one and then share the flame with all the others.

You planted the tea candles around on various surfaces, lighting the space up as Anakin broke down the table. You threw some old papers you’d found bunched in a drawer into the fireplace for more starter fuel, scratching another match to life against the grated box once Anakin dropped a leg of the table into the fire. You tossed the match in after it, satisfied when the flame caught the edge of the papers and flared to life, enveloping the wooden leg.

“That’s so much better,” you sighed, holding your hands out to warm by the flame. 

“Mmhm,” he agreed, crouched beside you. He stared, mesmerized by the flames for a long moment before suddenly standing. “Alright, I’m gonna go look at the pipes. Will you be okay for now?”

“Yup,” you nodded cheerily. “Where are the pipes?”

“There’s a cellar out back. Should be down there.”

“Oh…” this time, your shiver wasn’t from the cold. “Want me to go with you? Sounds kinda creepy.”

Anakin huffed a laugh, running a hand down the back of your head affectionately. “No, I think I’ll be alright, thank you. Want you to stay here and warm up.”

“I’ll go get the bed ready.”

“Perfect,” he brought you toward him with that hand, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be back.”

Now alone, you fed the fire with some more wood from the table, crouching down before the bags to get out your and Anakin’s spare set of clothes. You hung them up on the sill of the fireplace, weighing them down with the candles so they could dry. 

There were a couple of large buckets beside the fireplace, probably meant for gathering wood. You took one and set it outside to collect rainwater. It didn’t take very long at all – it filled up from the downpour within minutes, and you hung it up on the metal rod above the fire to boil for drinking water.

Then you grabbed one of the thicker candles to light your way to the back of the shed. The floorboards lifted slightly back here, half of a wall hiding the bedroom from the rest of the interior. 

The bed was quite large for such a small space, half-made with a quilted cover. It looked all dusty and gross, so you tore it off and opened all the drawers and cupboards in the space, praying for some spare sheets.

Luck seemed to be on your side. There was a set of sheets, blankets, and even a couple of pillows stowed away atop the first shelf in the closet. You had to strain on your tiptoes to reach them, but eventually knocked them down to your height. You took them to the living room and shook them out, making sure no dust or any bugs hid inside, then brought them back to the room and made the bed.

It was a lot more than you were hoping for, for an abandoned shed in the depths of the forest.

With the bed all made and Anakin not back yet, you decided to use the old dirty blanket to wipe down the interior of the bathroom. There was a shower – if that’s what you could call it. Really, it was just a spigot attached to the wall with a drain beneath, the floor here made of smooth rock rather than wood. But if Anakin could get it to work, and you warmed up some more water over the fire, you could have a real, warm shower using the soap you’d brought from the ship. 

The sound of the door opening let in the roar of the rain once more. Anakin closed it behind him, shaking water out of his hair.. “Good news,” he called, voice carrying from the door to the bedroom in the small shed. “There’s a water heater down there that I got working, as well as the pipes. I just have to fill the tank and we’re good to go.”

“Ohh,” you cooed excitedly, rounding the corner to meet him again. “I found a bucket we could use– hold on.” You grabbed the spare bucket from the fireplace and handed it to him. “The bed’s all set, I found some clean sheets and cleaned up the bathroom. There doesn’t seem to be anything useful in the kitchen or anywhere else,” you shrugged. “But I think this will do pretty well for the night.”

“I think so, too,” Anakin said, and despite the howling wind and icy rain pounding into the roof and threatening to shatter the windows, he smiled. 

He left to go fill the tank, and you laid out the rest of the supplies before the fire. The bigger bag was for Obi-Wan– those things you didn’t touch. But you and Anakin had a couple extra blankets, some food, a blaster, maps, and your medical supplies. Most of it survived the rain.

By the time Anakin came back, you were still sitting before the fire, occasionally feeding it with more scraps of wood and poking it around with a longer piece. He kicked the mud and dirt off his boots at the door before coming in, shrugging off his poncho. 

“Alright, bad news…” he started this time. You turned to look at him. “The heater is the slowest thing I’ve ever come across. It’ll take hours. I don’t think showers are in the cards for us tonight.”

You twisted your lips, trying not to seem too disappointed. “Bummer.” 

All you wanted to do was get out of these sticky, soaking wet clothes and immerse yourself in a warm shower. But at least he tried, and it really wasn’t the end of the world.

“Maybe in the morning,” you reasoned, trying to stay positive. He joined you by the fire as you tugged on the clothes you’d hung up, seeing if they were ready. “At least these are dry, and warm now. That’s better than nothing.”

“It is. Smart girl,” he tilted your face toward his with a finger, crouched before you again. His lips met yours – wet meeting dry, cold meeting warm. It took you by surprise a little bit, the intensity he kissed you with out of nowhere. But you responded in earnest, as if the simple touch of your flesh could warm him from the torrents coming down outside. 

After a long moment, he pulled back an inch, mumbling against your mouth, “Let’s get out of these wet clothes, yeah?”

You nodded silently, standing once he gave you room to take the clothes down from the fire. 

You’d been on missions with Anakin before, just the two of you. But nothing like this – so raw, so intimate, so secluded from the rest of the world. You could feel a strange tension in the air between you two, not bad. Just… different. Like there was an energy pulsing alive, waiting for something to snap.

You’d been with Anakin for a few months now, and in love with each other for far longer. But… you’d never truly been with him yet. In any way. 

He knew you weren’t ready, and explained you could take it slow. As slow as you wanted. He, of course, was already experienced, and that intimidated you. Which is why it had been months, and you still hadn’t made a move to progress things. Just the thought of doing those things with him made you impossibly nervous.

But lately, like now, you were thinking about it more and more. You couldn’t do this with anyone else, you thought. Just Anakin. You loved him more than life itself, and your ability to express that with words or innocent touches was growing limited. 

You wanted more of him. And you wanted him to have more of you.

What are you thinking? You shook the thoughts out of your head as you took your clothes into the bathroom to change. These thoughts had nothing to do with the predicament you found yourselves in. The last thing he was thinking about was sex.

In fact, upon exiting the bathroom, you found him already changed into his dried pair of pants and nothing else, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you with a tired, slumped look in his eyes.

He’d given you his spare shirt to wear since it was bigger and warmer than yours, and he wasn’t going to wear it anyways. You also had on a pair of shorts, the comfy ones you brought for sleeping since you thought you’d be in an inn right now. 

You approached him slowly, shadows cast over his face from the candlelight, flickering off the walls. The air was a bit chillier back here, away from the fire that you’d let simmer to embers for now. Naturally, you gravitated toward his shirtless form, slotting yourself in the space he’d opened up for you between his knees, and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“What an odd change of plans,” you muttered into his hair softly.

His flesh hand found your back, holding you close as he nestled his head against your chest. “Agreed.”

You remained like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other’s warmth and rain-damp hair, listening to the constant thrum of the downpour above, the gusting wind in the trees. 

“You tired?” you asked, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. You liked how it looked dark and burnished in the candlelight, holding the shape of a ringlet curl as you wrapped and uncoiled it from around your finger. 

“Very,” he breathed, turning his face into your neck to leave a kiss on your collarbone. “C’mere.”

Both of his wrapped around your back, securely holding you to him as he fell backward onto the bed, with you on top of him. You laughed, steadying yourself with your arms on either side of his head, ducking down to plant a sweet kiss above his brows. 

“You’re not even on the bed,” you pointed out, referring to his legs which were still on the floor. You pulled back the covers, and you both slipped under, instantly finding the spot between his chest and shoulder to lay your head. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you snuggly into his side, allowing you to slot one of your legs between his. 

This is how it always was when you and him could truly be alone, uninterrupted, with no threat of someone finding you out. It was a rare moment, which is why your skin sang with every inch it pressed against his, heart soaring in your chest as your body seemed to settle so perfectly against his, erasing any doubt in your mind that any of this could be a mistake.

Before long, and without even realizing, you slipped into a deep sleep. Despite the harsh weather outside, you’d never felt so comfortable, wrapped up in warmth and darkness. That is, until Anakin woke with a start, wrenching you out of your slumber.

“What issit?” you slurred, rubbing sleep out of your eyes. It wasn’t like when he’d have nightmares, where you’d usually wake up before him due to his tossing and turning and mumbling. This was sudden – like something had possessed him, stolen all the air from his lungs as wide eyes turned to you.

“The transmitter,” he said, throwing the blankets off of him and getting out of bed. Your head was still lagging behind, having no idea what he meant.

“What transmitter?”

“The one on the ship. The only way we can contact Obi-Wan. We left it behind.”

He was already pulling on his boots and reaching for his other shirt, sparing no time. You pushed yourself further up in bed, swiping your hair out of your face. “D’you have to get it now? Can it wait till the morning?”

“The ship was sinking when we left it. It could be buried in mud right now,” he rushed the words out, grabbing his utility belt from the sill and securing it around his waist. “I’ll be back in an hour. Go back to bed… I’m sorry for waking you.”

“No, I’ll come with you,” you were already swinging your legs off the bed too, about to stand up when Anakin put a hand on your shoulder. It was dark now, the candles having been blown out without you realizing, and you could barely see his face.

“No. Stay here. I don’t want you out there, it’s too dangerous.”

“It’s just some rain,” your argument sounded meek, even to you. “Come on, Anakin, I don’t want you to go alone. ‘S not fair.”

“Fair?” 

“You shouldn’t have to be out there while I stay here and sleep. I won’t be able to, anyway. It is dangerous, so I should come with you, in case something happens.”

“Y/n. No,” he said sternly, and you flinched. A heavy pause hung between you, where you searched for what to say among the scattered thoughts in your brain. He’d never been stern with you before. Ever. 

“I won’t be gone long. I promise I’ll be there and back as fast as I can. Okay?”

“But,” you insisted stubbornly, desperately fighting back the sting in your eyes. “I want to go with you, Anakin. I want to help you.”

You tried to stand up again, but the hold he had on your shoulders wouldn’t let you. You tried to fight back the emotion rising in your throat, threatening to spill over your eyes at his defiance. He was too strong, his word absolute– and for once, you couldn’t sway him.

The thought of him out there, alone in the dark and cold and rain… it killed you.

You grasped at his wrists, still holding onto your shoulders, and squeezed as if you could keep him there. As if he wasn’t laughably stronger than you, and could pull away from your touch without realizing you were trying.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? This isn’t like you,” his words came out hushed now. Worried. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” you sniffed, lip beginning to wobble. “Just don’t want you to get hurt.” It’s scary out there.

“I won’t. I promise… I’ll be okay. You’ll see,” he kissed the stray tear that squeezed out of your eye, collecting it with his lips before it could trail a path down your cheek. You tried to steady your breathing, shaky as it dragged in and out of your lungs, quelling the rising feeling of dread and fear.

Somehow, he’d coaxed you back into bed, on your back, tucking the sheets in around you nice and tight. Tight enough so that you couldn’t get out, perhaps. Whimpering in defeat, you felt another few tears squeeze out of your eyes, turning your head away from him to bury into the pillow.

“Don’t do this,” Anakin murmured, stroking a hand over your hair. “Please, don’t cry.”

“Fine,” you snipped, immediately regretting it. “‘M sorry… just don’t get hurt. Come back.”

“I will,” he whispered, and trailed warm kisses down your temple. 

And then he was gone.

His voice, his touch, his scent, his warmth – all of it, vanished like it had never been there to begin with.

It’s not the fact that he’d left to go do something dangerous on his own – it was the fact that he was out there all alone, in a terrible storm, fighting through the unpredictability of the elements. It had been violent for the short time you’d been out there earlier, the rain pelting your skin so hard it stung, the mud sticking to your boots, refusing to let you move, the wind nearly toppling you over if Anakin hadn’t been there to steady you.

You could have gone with him. You could have kept up. And Maker forbid anything happen to him – if he got stuck, trapped somewhere, if a tree came down over him, if he got lost and couldn’t find his way–

You couldn’t stay in bed. Half of you wanted to pull your boots on too and meet him out there, but you knew that was a stupid decision. You didn’t have his sense of direction, the built in radar that he had. And even as you peered through the cloudy window to the outside world, you knew it would be in vain. The night forest was alive with shuttering tree limbs, branches fighting each other in the sky as the terrible wind tossed them around. The rain never let up, the same suffocating sheet of water dumping from the moonless sky above.

Anakin was far gone at this point. You could only sit by the window, alone in the cold, dusty dark, until he returned.

The sleeves of your – Anakin’s – shirt had grown damp by the time you spotted his figure appear out of the trees. 

It startled you at first, worried some stranger had come across the shed in the same way you and Anakin had, and was now heading this way to seek shelter. Once he arrived, he might find you here, and maybe he’d try to hurt you.

You slipped off the ledge you were sitting on and grabbed for the water-logged blaster you’d set on the floor, shaking out some raindrops and hoping it wasn’t one of the things that got destroyed by the rain. 

Your worry was for naught - the closer the figure grew, the more you recognized the height, shape, and gait of Anakin Skywalker. The hood of his poncho was pulled up over his head, but it did little good as the wind tugged and pulled at it, letting the rain drench his face anyway.

You set the blaster down and met him by the door, pulling it open to reveal him soaked to the bone and panting. He truly had run the whole way.

“Anakin,” you started, trying to stay out of his way so he could take off his poncho and boots without spraying you with water. “Are you okay? Did you get the transmitter?”

“I made it just in time,” he explained, reaching into his belt pocket and brandishing the little metal device. Such a small thing, important enough to risk his life over. 

At least, to him it was.

“You must be freezing,” you muttered, still upset at the fact that you hadn’t shared in his suffering. You hated seeing him go through these things alone. You should have been with him. 

“The heaters have probably had enough time to warm the water up,” his attempt to distract you didn’t go unnoticed. “You wanna go check for me?”

You whispered, “okay,” and flit back to the bedroom, lighting a couple of candles inside so you could see. The spigot was stuck in place due to years of sitting unused and abandoned, but eventually you managed to wrench it to the side, almost splattering yourself with brown water.

Your face crinkled in disgust, but soon it began to run clear. You tested the temperature with your fingertips, pleased to feel that it was warm.

Anakin rounded the corner, leaning against the doorway of the bathroom with his arms crossed. “Is it working?”

“Yeah. It’s warm,” you pulled your hand away and wiped it dry on your shorts. “You should get in quick so it’s not wasted.”

“Wanna join me?”

His offer caught you by surprise.

Join him? In the shower? As in… naked?

The look on your face must have given your thoughts away. He chuckled and reached toward one of the tea lights you’d just lit, snuffing the flame out between two gloved fingers. “I can turn off the lights…” he teased.

Damn him. As if you weren’t already flustered – 

The steady trickle of the spigot remained at your back, seducing you to the warmth of the shower. It would feel so good to be able to wash up. And with there only really being enough time for one shower… it would make sense for the both of you to just do it together.

But Anakin had never seen you without clothes before. And you hadn’t prepared for that to happen today.

“Yes… no…?” he drawled, uncrossing his arms and reaching out for the other candle. Like the first, he pinched the flame out, blanketing the room in darkness. The sound of the floorboards creaking was the only way you knew he was approaching, tensing as you felt his hands tug at the hem of your shirt. “C’mon, sweetheart. I’ll behave.”

You were still upset with him being stern with you earlier. And even more upset that he didn’t let you go with him. 

But something about his honey-smooth voice reduced you to putty in his hands. Warmth budded and bloomed deep in your stomach, and a certain resolve passed over you. You didn’t want to be upset anymore. You wanted this. 

“Okay,” you whispered, fingers finding Anakin’s at the bottom of your shirt. You didn’t miss his slight inhale.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” you tugged the hem up yourself, urging him to guide the material over your head. 

The darkness of the room was the only thing that offered you any sort of comfort, knowing he couldn’t truly see you just yet. You knew, logically, that he could fathom things in his mind without having to see them, but purposely ignored that fact.

You weren’t sure where your shirt landed, as he’d been the one to tug your arms out himself. Riding the adrenaline high, you slipped your thumbs under the elastic of your sleep shorts and pushed them down, kicking them somewhere in the corner.

And there you were, standing completely naked in front of Anakin Skywalker – your love, your life – for the first time ever.

Again, the only reason you could really do this right now was because it was pitch black in the room. You only had enough nerve to then reach for him, hand finding the soaking wet material of his own shirt as you shivered in the cold.

“Hurry up and get undressed, I wanna get in,” you pleaded. He’d gone eerily silent.

At your request, he started into motion. You could hear the sounds of his wet clothes slopping to the ground heavily, trying to fight the blush off of your face as you turned around to pull the spigot further. The water began to rain down in a warm current now, and you stepped underneath to douse yourself in the glorious heat.

“Where are yo–? oh,” you jumped as you felt his hands find their way around your waist, his naked chest pressed up against your back. The water sprayed over the both of you, trickling down his body to fall onto yours, shivering at the added heat.

The blood in your face grew warmer, trying not to think about how close his hands were to two very sensitive parts of your body. They spanned almost the whole length of your torso, tummy twisting as you realized just how big he was. Just how strong.

But he chose to be gentle with you.

Trying to steady your breathing, you reached for the soap you’d stowed away in the notch in the wall, flipping the cap open and squirting a generous amount into the palm of your hand. Anakin trailed his fingers down your arm, taking the bottle from you and setting it down again. 

You rubbed the soap between your hands, letting the excess drip down your body so it wouldn’t go to waste. Then, you began rubbing the suds all into your skin, feeling impossibly feverish at the predicament.

It just felt… wrong, somehow, to be touching yourself like this in front of Anakin. Even if you were just washing up.

His hands had returned to your waist, and you smoothed them over his own as you worked your way down your body. Wordlessly, he turned his hands over, capturing your soapy fingers in his and stealing some of the suds. You huffed a laugh, heart fluttering in your chest as he began to work that soap into the soft skin of your stomach, hips, and waist. 

You tried not to squirm too much. Forced yourself to relax, and just let him do what he wanted. He was obviously enjoying it, the way he lingered, rubbing circles into your soft skin, kissing at your shoulder blade as he brought his hands around and up your back, almost massaging the soap into you. 

The way his hands moved over your body was so different than anything you’ve ever felt before. You’d never been touched so tenderly, so unrestricted yet loving as you’d been now. And though he had free reign, he avoided the parts that might make you uncomfortable… until you grew bold enough to capture his wandering hands in your own, leading them to the soft mounds of flesh yourself. 

On instinct he squeezed, ever so gently, with your smaller fingers bracketing his own. “You can touch me,” you whispered, encouraging now that you were fully relaxed and comfortable with him.

“You’re perfect,” he replied, lips finding the curve of your neck.

What had he said about behaving?

As if he could read your thoughts, his lips released the skin of your neck with a small sound, pressing a kiss above that spot, and then one more under your jaw. Then he began to move his hands over your breasts, not quite sexual, but gentle. Caring. Washing you of rainwater and chill, so all that was left was the sweet smelling soap and the feel of him.

You sighed in relief, bones turning to mush in his hands. Soon, he reached for the soap again and squeezed more out, stepping around so that he was in front of you.

His hands found you again, your waist this time, the unpredictability of his touches making your heart hammer against your ribs. Something about it was so thrilling, not being able to see where he was or where he was planning to go, especially now that you’d given him permission to touch you. You weren’t sure where you’d draw the line if it came to that. If you’d draw the line. 

His touch remained wholly innocent, though, focusing back around on your stomach, dragging down the curve of your waist, your hips, the tops of your thighs. You could feel his breath on your tummy, butterflies flaring to life as you realized he was on his knees before you, dragging his touch up and down your thighs as his lips pressed a sensual kiss to the top of your tummy. Then above your belly button. Then one below–

You held your breath, anticipating him to keep going. But he lingered on the last kiss, and you could feel his teeth on your skin as he smiled.

“On my best behavior, remember?” his voice was deep, almost a purr. 

You could only manage a meek “Mmhm,” as he continued on, tracing his fingers down to your knee, lifting one leg slightly so he could trail kisses down your thigh, over your knee, down, down down, all the while rubbing soap into your skin in his lip’s wake.

By the time he reached your foot, you were bracing yourself with your hands on his shoulders, trying not to jump out of your skin as his lips continued. He kissed your ankle, the top of your foot, massaging soap into the soles of your feet. 

He wasn’t just washing you. He was worshiping you.

That much was clear as he released that leg and started over on the other side. 

You were almost relieved when he was done. Every inch of your skin was alive and buzzing, standing on edge with electricity and embarrassment and something else. Something deep, and smooth, and warm like bubbling molasses. You could barely breathe, glad for the moment of reprieve when he finally released you, and deposited more soap in his hands so he could wash himself. 

Your legs were jelly, afraid you’d fall down right there in the shower, completely baffled how he could just do something like that and continue on like nothing happened. Then, you heard the speed at which he was rubbing the soap over his own body – clearly, he wanted to get out to continue this elsewhere. 

You weren’t terribly ashamed to admit you were thinking along the same line.

Before the water could run cold, Anakin had urged you both under the spigot again and rinsed all the suds off your body. Then he grabbed for the single towel that you’d brought from the supply bag, turning the water off and wrapping you up in it.

“Hey– what’re you doing?” you pouted, undoing the towel just as soon as he’d tucked it into you, secure.

“Getting you dry,” he responded like it was obvious. You rubbed the towel over your skin quickly, then wrapped Anakin in it like he’d done to you. Or– you tried to, at least. You still couldn’t see, and completely missed your mark, caught off guard by the absence of the body you confidently reached for that you almost slipped, bracing yourself on the first thing you could reach.

“Woah,” Anakin chuckled, easily steadying you with his hands around your waist. Your bare chest was pressed against his, glaringly obvious with the way the cold air tightened your skin, and you blushed furiously. 

“Sorry– couldn’t find you,” you mumbled, hopelessly patting at his chest with the towel now that you had him.

“Alright, let’s get you dressed and out of here before you take us both down,” he teased, bending to retrieve the clothes you’d both discarded in the dark.

You let him pull his shirt over your head first, shielding you from the nippy air. You were disappointed with the loss of contact, but glad for the sense of normalcy. He knelt before you again and urged you to lift your leg with his hand around your calf, guiding one leg, then the other into your shorts, pulling them up until they rested comfortably on your hips.

He pulled his own pants on, the only thing he’d be wearing, and you finally reached for the bathroom door, ready to be able to see again even if it was only by candlelight.

It was like re-entering life, after being in the dark for so long. You turned to see if Anakin was following you, finding him close behind as he shut the door behind him, and just the sight of his ridiculously handsome face, gilded by the glow of the fire, set your heart aflame.

You needed his lips on yours. Now.

This time, he was taken by surprise with the intensity of your kiss. You stood on your tiptoes and captured his lips with yours, barely noticing as he fell back into the door slightly, hand finding your hip to steady you. His surprise quickly melted into an intensity that matched your own, hot lips sliding over yours, tongue dipping into your mouth for a taste, palm guiding your jaw just how he liked.

He kissed like he was drinking you in, breathing your air, as if he wished to share the same skin as you. And though you’d started it, now you were trying to keep up, head growing fuzzy from lack of oxygen as he began to guide you backward, onto the bed.

As soon as your back hit the mattress, the reality of the situation dawned on you. He wasn’t slowing down, and you didn’t want him to. His touch dragged fire across your flesh, tracing down the places he’d just worshiped under your clothes, pulling you so close to him you could feel his heart hammer in his chest.

Your hands buried in his hair, the other on his shoulder for stability, grounding as he released your lips with a gasp, wasting no time before claiming the sensitive skin of your neck with the same furiosity. 

“Anakin,” you breathed, not really sure what you wanted to say. You just wanted to taste his name in your mouth, the way the syllables sounded so pretty, so perfect between your teeth.

He answered with a short “mmm,” listening but not really. He was too deep into it, kissing and sucking and nipping at your neck, tongue laving over the small hurts that his teeth dug into you. 

Somehow his flesh hand had drifted to the elastic of your shorts. You’d missed it before, too caught up in him toying with the skin over your pulsepoint. But now his fingers teased the elastic that he’d just put on you, and despite your livewire nerves and the pound of your heart, you lifted your hips in invitation.

His mouth detached from your neck, shocked again as he breathed, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you forbid him from asking again by pulling him back to your lips. You needed the distraction, bracketing his jaw in both your hands as he pulled your shorts down your legs, slowly. Giving you time to back out.

You kicked them off once he reached your feet, flinging them out of sight. Anakin settled back between your thighs, your knees squeezing his waist, squirming as his touch now roamed free under your shirt.

“Anakin,” you pulled away to breathe once again, lips swollen and wet, filled with the taste of him. “I– I don’t know what to do.”

His eyelashes shuttered, delicate as a butterfly wing, and he leaned back in to peck you gently on the lips. “Don’t worry about a thing,” he murmured, eyes all melted and soft. “I’ll take care of you.”

There it was again. That blind trust. 

He could do whatever he wanted to you right now, and you’d let him. Half dressed, strewn over the bed, all for his taking… and he moved down your body to recount the kisses he’d pressed to your stomach in the shower only moments before.

Your muscles clenched and unclenched, hips squirming as you felt an uncomfortable warmth, a wetness, an ache between your legs the further down he moved. You were no stranger to that feeling, or how to relieve it– but you were new to sharing it with someone else. Sharing it with him. 

Though it made you incredibly nervous to have him down there, the need for his touch outweighed everything. He kissed your stomach, hips, and thighs until he felt you relax under his palms, and only then did he slide his hands beneath your knees, pausing one last time to ask:

“Will you let me taste you?”

It felt like something exploded in your face, with the intensity that heat bloomed in your cheeks. Those bejeweled eyes shining in the candlelight, intent on you, hands clutching the plush softness of the backs of your thighs, breath ghosting over the bottom of your stomach– it was almost too much.

“Okay,” you answered quietly, nodding your head. “Y-yes.”

His responding grin was wicked – roguish. Broad hands pushed your legs up and spread them apart, baring it all for him to see.

It was quick– so quick you barely had time to be embarrassed, like ripping a bandaid off. He just… did it. And now he was looking at you, holding your thighs so steady in his strong grasp that you couldn’t even dream of closing them on him.

You threw a hand over your eyes, unable to watch him look at you.

“Baby,” he breathed, flesh hand releasing one of your legs so he could slot it between your thighs, thumb pulling you open a little. You didn’t think it was possible to be more embarrassed as he studied you, only opening your eyes to look at him when he tugged at your wrist in silent demand.

“C’mon, don’t be shy,” he teased, though when you blinked open your wet eyes to look at him, his face had melted into one of adoration. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, before pressing his lips to the swollen bud of your clit, taking you by surprise again. “The prettiest there ever was,” he smirked when he saw your reaction, pulling you open with both thumbs now so he could press a hot, deep, lingering kiss into you.

You gasped at the contact, blood rushing in your ears as your back bowed off the bed. Sparks of pleasure battled the humiliation as he continued planting sweet little suckling kisses to your clit, over and over, as if he couldn’t get enough. 

Once you’d relaxed back onto the bed, and the first pathetic whimper left your mouth, he let his tongue roam your folds, collecting your taste.

He knew this was new for you, so he went slow. Started gentle, getting you used to the feeling. And it was strange for you, just a little bit, but mostly it felt… good. So good. Indescribably good. So much so that you couldn’t believe you’d held out on this for so long.

Couldn’t believe you were letting him do this to you now. 

Your hips twitched and jumped as his tongue traced down to your entrance, teasingly licking you in circles, using pressure like he might try to put it in. The thought had you reaching for the bedsheets, needing something to squeeze in your fists. One of his hands intercepted yours, bringing it back to your thigh so he could hold you still and let you squeeze his hand at the same time. 

He licked your arousal up, truly drinking you now, allowing his tongue to lave over your clit all slow and smooth and warm. You mewled, a sweet, innocent sound that went straight to his cock. With a desire to pull more pretty sounds from you, he kept drawing circles over your clit, increasing the pressure and speed until your eyes were closed, and you were biting your finger between your teeth, unable to help the sounds escaping you.

“Fuck, Ani–”  gasped, thighs falling open by themselves now, inviting him deeper. He licked you again, closing his lips at the top of your heat to suck your clit into his mouth, pulling it between his lips with a pulsing suction. 

He didn’t let up. 

Your muscles tensed, the fuzzy warmth building in your gut, between your legs, spreading down your thighs, becoming all consuming. And just when you thought it would burst, he let go.

“Shit,” you cried, breathless as your hips rocked against his mouth. He laughed, sticking his tongue out so you could hump the met muscle, hot breath fanning over your most sensitive parts. His teeth gleamed in the firelight, dark eyes trained on you, and you had to shut your own so you didn’t cum right there.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he pulled his face away, pinching the inside of your thigh just enough to sting. You forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze again. “Stay with me, pretty girl.”

His mouth, shining with your slick, lowered to your pussy again. And you couldn’t stop from moaning, hips canting up and down even though you knew it made his job more difficult. You just couldn’t help it– it felt too good. 

And he knew that, so he was nice. It was your first time, after all. So he relaxed the hold he had on your hips and let you squirm, just a little, to delude you into thinking you had even an ounce of control.

“You gonna cum in my mouth, sweet thing?” he spoke against your cunt, sealing the words off with a loud, wet, kiss. “Gonna make a mess for me?”

You’d never appreciated the velvety timber of his voice more than right now. 

“Mhm,” you whimpered pathetically, eyes squeezing closed. And again, he let you. There would be other times to play his wicked games.

“Alright, sweetheart. Whenever you’re ready,” he soothed, returning his mouth to your clit. He licked and sucked, sliding his tongue back down to your hole and breaching the entrance like he’d fantasized about doing with his cock for so long now, carving the exact path he would take. You gasped for air, humming it out in cute helpless whines and whimpers, cheeks permanently stained in a flush.

“Anakin, I–” you wanted to say you loved him, no matter how pathetic that sounded. But it was true, it was all you could feel as his lips suctioned around your clit again, pulling it into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue in torturous circles. You loved him, loved his mind and his body, and the way his lips and tongue were pulling that glorious wave of heat from out of you now, swallowing the gush of hot slick that escaped from your pulsing hole.

He brought you down with his thumb on your clit, soothing gentle circles into it as you cried, body shaking and jerking beneath him. He watched you come undone with a small smile on his face, not allowing you to escape his attention for even a moment. 

The last gulp of air that you took to settle your shivering muscles felt like the sweetest breath you’d ever taken. Anakin climbed back up your body, hands sliding over your knees, so he could kiss you deep on the lips.

You tasted yourself – it wasn’t bad… slightly salty, but not quite. That mixed with the taste of Anakin had your brain turn to mush again, lips lazy and compliant under his.

“See how good you taste?” he hummed, going back in to flirt his tongue around yours. “Fucking delicious.”

“Anakin–” you were pushing at his chest now, the buffer of arousal no longer shielding you from so much embarrassment. He laughed as you covered your face with your hands, immediately trying to tug them away again.

“It’s the truth,” he insisted with that lover’s pur, and you pouted once he finally succeeded in seeing your face again. He traced your bottom lip with his thumb, still smiling. “You okay?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded, unable to fight back your own matching smile. “‘T was so good, Ani. Didn’t think… didn’t think it’d be like that.”

“No?”

“Mm-mm,” you shook your head, leaning into his warm palm as he cupped your cheek, thumb still stroking your bottom lip. “Thank you. Do you– do you want me to…”

It took him a second before he realized what you were talking about. His eyes widened slightly and he looked down, then laughed. “No– no, you don’t have to do that.”

“Don’t you want me to?”

“Of course I do,” he insisted, mirth and adoration oozing from his gaze. “But I can handle it tonight. Think that was enough for you.”

You pouted again, about to insist, but he kept you quiet with a kiss. “Another time, okay?” he whispered against your lips.

You nodded, complaisant.

“Good.” With a deep breath of his own, he lifted himself off of you, carefully closing your legs so they wouldn’t ache from being held open for so long. “Wait here,” he requested, and then left for the bathroom again.

He grabbed the towel you both had used, and sat on the edge of the bed. “Can you open up for me?” he asked, fingers sliding around your thigh in silent request.

Your face burned even harder than before, somehow, as you fulfilled his request, spreading your legs a bit so he could clean you up. It was a strange feeling, almost more intimate than what he’d previously been doing– but it was quick, and it felt nice now that your arousal was all cleaned up, and he could slip your shorts back on with you having to get up. 

Anakin retreated back to the bathroom and was gone for a few long moments. You had an idea of what he was doing, another burst of heat blooming in your stomach at the thought of what was going on behind that door. You had half a mind to suggest helping him again. You were more than willing.

But he came out only a short time later to find that you’d straightened all the sheets, and were now waiting by the pillows for him to come back to bed with you. He blew out the candles as he passed them by, getting into the bed and wasting no time pulling you onto his chest.

He’d never felt closer to you. And you, him.

In the morning, you’d probably be embarrassed again, recalling what you’d done. The storm outside seemed to trap you in a bubble, your own world, and everything else seemed so far away now.

You pressed your palm to his chest, letting the strong thud, thud, thud of his heart lull you to sleep. Before he could feel you drift off, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you,” he said, and you heard it in your dreams. 

divider from @saradika

[tteokdoroki]

imagine if your bestfriend katsuki was really babyfaced until he hit his 20’s. total late bloomer, aure he went through puberty but his body looked like it had never gotten out of the awkward teen boy phase look!

so, anyways maybe you travel back him for some family time, gone for maybe 3-4 months. Katsuki had already looked really mature, he just had some baby fat, and you teased him, because in your words he still looked like he did when he was 5.

now you’ve come back, and boy, has katsuki grown. you and the group go out on the town, and when you see katsuki he has grown in height, build, and his face is now chiseled. and you cant believe your eyes. the whole night you can’t stop staring, seeing your bestfriend in a new light.

(sorry if this makes no sense im running on a low brain battery lol!)

kissing your brain actually absolutely just smooching it ??

growing up with katsuki and he’s just the kid you guys picked on ever so slightly cause it was easy to get on his nerves — he’d just run home and cry. definitely a mamas boy LMAO !! but you’re both so cute, with gaps in your teeth and messy cheeks and your parents think you’re gonna end up together when you grow up. katsuki thinks that’s gross and you think he’s being mean n you push each other away like ewww grosss even though you were probably crushing on each other back then.

when you’re a little older katsuki is still baby faced and his mom always pinches his cheeks and calls him handsome and does that thing mom’s do where they lick their thumb and use it to wipe their kids face. PLEASE but katsuki is still so cute n hasn’t quite grown into himself yet :(( and when you start hitting 13/14 everyone is talking about the boys they like and who they wanna go to the movies with after school — he doesn’t think you’ll wanna go out with him because you’re best friends and he doesn’t look like the guys in your teen pop magazines or the boy groups you like.

stop he has like braces, he’s a little lanky and his voice is always cracking !!! awkward teen boy katsuki for the win!!! he probably stays like that all the way through high school n then you end up losing touch after graduation/starting college.

but then a few years down the line when you’re back from college your friends are begging you to come to a local bar to catch up — you ask if katsuki will be there and they won’t stop teasing you about it because you haven’t seen each other in ages !! laughing and pointing when he rolls in with your other guy friends, taller, thicker more buff. you’re practically drooling.

the katsuki you knew was shy, and small if he wanted to be but this katsuki is loud. he fills the whole room with his presence, he’s got a waistline that could kill and a jawline so sharp you could cut diamonds on it.

“didn’t your ma ever tell ya starin’ is rude?” bakugou mumbles when he’s close enough to order a drink and you literally melt in your spot — because when did his voice get so deep? basically running through your ears like melted chocolate.

“you’ve changed.” you quip.

“for the better, i hope?”

“yeah… you look good.”

“and so do you,” he comments back smoothly. “but don’cha worry, ‘m still your same old katsuki.”

and god, the way he smirks at you afterwards makes your thighs shake and your stomach do back flips, and you kinda hope your katsuki is a little bolder, a little different when you ask him.

“do you wanna get out of here, katsuki?”

your suspicions are confirmed when bakugou kicks back his shot and says.

“i thought you’d never ask.”

[fantasyqueen502]

Officer O’Hara

Rated: PG

Word count: 950

Summery: Officer O'Hara hates spider-man, but doesn't know she's married to him.

“You're under arrest!” An officer barks, her gun raised and aimed at the luchador's skull, glaring at her. She steels her nerves, meeting the eyes that were concentrated on hog-tying an unconscious Lizard with its own tail. 

“I think the words you are looking for are 'thank you,'” the man says, speaking through a voice distorter. 

She maintains her distance. “Nueva York police department, you are under arrest for tampering, vigilantism, battery, bodily assault, and contaminating and jeopardizing numerous crime signs.” She lists. 

“I thought we had something, Officer L/N.” 

“And getting on my damn nerves. It's officer O'Hara now,” she corrects. 

“Is that against the law?” He quips. 

Gripping the walkie, pinned over her heart. “I need...” she managed only three syllables. And that's being generous before an electric hiss sliced the air, a force shoving her into a far wall. The wind knocked out of her two more zips, sound bright red webs pinning her hands to the brick. 

"Awww, we can't have our fun now that you're off the market.” He whines. 

“You're gonna pay for this. You hear me. There are consequences. You can’t continue evading the law---mmm.” Webbing glues her mouth shut.

“Till next time, officer O'hara,” he chirps. 

“Congratulations to the new beau.” He swings off. 

“You look like a chipmunk, mommy.” Gabriella observes. 

Her cheeks and lips are red and puffy. One hand holding an ice pack to her left cheek. 

“And you will be too if you don't finish your peas.” 

“I did.” She points at her empty plate with her fork. 

The mom lifts the plate, revealing a grouping of peas hidden under it. Using a butter knife, she slid them back into the plate, placing them before her. Gabriella pouts, slouching back in her seat, kicking her feet in a mild tantrum. “But I don't wanna!” She whales. “They’re yucky.” 

“Finish your dinner, and you'll get a slice of tres leche cake, Daddy made.'' She coos cleaning the dishes. Holding the ice pack with her shoulder. 

“With strawberries,” she mumbles.

“And raspberries,” she nods, smiling to herself, seeing the reflection in the window of Gabriella begrudgingly eating her peas. 

“I'm home!” Calls from the front door.

“Kitchen!” She returns.

“Ow.” She yelps as her husband sneaks a kiss on her cheek. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, looking to get a good look at her face. “Did adhesive solvent help?” He asks. He had received a slurry of texts while at work about the situation. Trying the call only to be declined until she sent him a selfie of herself. Red webbing covered her from below her nose to her chin. 

“Yes, but my face is now burning from scrubbing it raw,” she groans. 

“I'm sorry, honey.” Placing a kiss on her forehead. 

“Another reason to the list to keep myself restrained from wringing that thick neck.” She grits out

“Why do you not like Spider-Man, mommy?” She mumbles while taking a break from her peas. “He's so cool and saves people like you, mommy.” 

“That's right.” 

“No, honey.” 

The couple looks at each other. 

“He didn't go to school like mommy did, followed the rules, and not just swing around as I pleased and assault an officer. Me!” 

“But he's a good guy. He even wears your colors.” 

“Why are you defending him?” 

“I'm just playing devil's advocate.” He holds his hands up. 

“Finished!!!” Exclaimed the young girl. “Cake, now.” 

“Dinner’s in the microwave,” she sighs before leaving the kitchen.

Reading and rereading the same line from her tablet of a book she downloaded a while ago but never got the time to finish, thanks to life. 

Knock!!! Knock!!!

“We got ice cream for you, mommy.” 

Gabriella says, nudging the door with her hip. Big bowl in hand. Throwing the now useless melted ice pack to the side. To greet her daughter, taking the bowl as she focused on climbing into bed. Snuggling up close to her mom. 

"Thank you.” She coos kissing her cheek. “Got your slice of cake?” 

She nods. “Big slice.” 

“Did you brush your teeth?” She asks. From the smell of whipped cream and fruit, that was a no. 

Gabriella nods, hiding her mischevious grin. 

“Gabriella.” Calls from the doorway. 

“Uh-oh.” the young girl coos. 

“Busted.” the mother laughs. 

“Teeth and bed; I'll be there in a minute.” He instructs.

The tiny tot scampers out of bed past her dad. He pats her head as she makes her way to her bathroom. 

“I'm sorry,” she exhales through her nose. Eyes tired. 

“For what?” His voice is soft and gentle. Kissed her ears.

“I know how much Spiderman means to the city, seeing the looks on you and Gabby's faces when he’s on TV and the daily bugle.” She sighs, massaging the space between her brows. 

“I understand your feelings with the webslinger.” 

“The only feelings I have I can't say in fear of our five-year-old hearing and repeating.” 

He chuckles. She looks at her bowl of moose tracks topped with chocolate syrup and takes a heaping spoonful of cold goodness. Sighing as she closes her eyes and moans from the relief it brought to her lips. 

“Let me say all of the no-no words for you,” he offers. “Give him a piece of my mind.” 

“Really.” She chuckles. 

“Really,” he assures. “I’ll get him a stern talk on lowering the polymer strength in the adhesive in those weds.”

She laughs, but squeaks, holding her cheek, but laughs anyway through the pain. “I feel bad now,” she says through her breaks for breath. “I don’t want him to die from your science talk.” 

"Well, too bad for him,” he tuts. She leans in, giving his lips a peck. He smiles and licks his lips.

[demonicseries]

storytime

I was in target today and I saw this Deadpool plush.

Well I also thought it also makes noise or something because it said to hug it, and you could feel the inside was hard with a battery. Per the instructions on the label, I had to turn on the battery. The problem? Guess where the battery switch was.

YEP☹️ INSIDE of his Deadpoolussy.

disturbed, I’m fisting Deadpool in the middle of the target isle, like arm fully in there, when I finally find the battery pack switch. I’m excited to hear what funny quips they put in there, so I turn it on and IT STARTS VIBRATING AGGRESSIVELY AND I PULL MY ARM OUT AND CHUCK IT ON THE GROUND IN HORROR.

Like idk if you’ve ever been electrocuted but you feel that through your whole body and that’s how powerful those vibrations where.

I knew I had my fist up there but I FELT VIOLATED.

but the plush was still vehemently shaking/vibrating on the ground and I quickly reached in and turned it off, once again subjecting myself to the disturbing feeling.

“Hug simulator” my ass. They are selling a Deadpool combination vibrator/fleshlight in target. THEY ARE SELLING DEADPOOL VIBRATORS IN TARGET AND NO ONE IS TALKING ABOUT IT

[mysticallystilinski]

can u write a fluff where stiles has another panic attack and the reader is there to comfort him :D

trepidation | s. stilinski x fem!reader | fluff/angst

summary: you and stiles get trapped in the winter night of beacon hills, something may change it all

warnings: swearing, panic attacks, slight angst, anxiety, and mentions of harm

a/n: { hi! it’s lav, i hope you guys enjoy this, and please request more, as i’ve literally have no ideas.. }

trep·i·da·tion

noun: trepidation

a feeling of fear or agitation about something that may happen.

———————————————————

the night was cold as you held your hands in between your warm thighs. stiles was driving his jeep in the sleet, ice roads. the power previously went out, and now you and stiles were heading to the pack. before your phone died, lydia had called you when she sensed something was happening. she had a hard feeling in her conscience, but she couldn’t pinpoint on what it was exactly. her breathing fell short onto the phone as your battery level promptly went to zero.

“stiles, my phone died. do you have a charger?” you lifted your head up to catch the gaze of the quiet boy. he tilted his head slightly, and licked his lips in attempt to chap-pen them. “uh, i think it’s around here somewhere.” he states. he uses his free hand to navigate around the back of the jeep in attempt to find the missing cord. he directed his gaze to the back seats for a split second to try to find it. his other hand, controlling the wheel, slightly tilted to the right and you felt a bump hit the tire.

you and stiles both looked at each-other in accord as he released his right hand from the backseat and placed both hands on the steering wheel. the car slowly went for a stop as something got lodged into the old jeeps tire. “you have got to be kidding me,” you huff out. “stiles, please tell me you still have that spare tire on the back of your jeep?” you smile shyly in attempt to butter up his reaction to the unfortunate event.

“remember that day last year when me and scott were playing around.. with the tire,” he laughed playfully, but with a sense of frighten. “you have got to be fucking kidding me,” you grit straight through your teeth. stiles smile fades into the black of the night as you open up the jeep door, and head out by the back of the car.

it wasn’t an ideal night, it was freezing cold, the power went out, and not to mention you guys were in the middle of the woods.

you heard the jeep door ram as stiles emerged from the left side of the car. “who’s idea was it to take the shortcut route,” you sneer. stiles gave you a menacing look as he popped open the back of the trunk. the jeeps blue figure moved up slowly with the guide of stiles hand. his eyes scanned the messy space in front of him in search of something that may help. he sighed for a few seconds in defeat as nothing came up in his scan. “maybe you should look with your hands”, you snickered. you took a step closer to the large vehicle and dived straight in. you began to shuffle around the papers, and the tools in attempt to at least find something useful.

you couldn’t manage to find anything helpful in this situation. stiles was still behind you, and you felt his cold gaze latch onto your soul. “what if we never get this car started,” he questioned frightfully. “trepidation”, you said. “what?”, he asked. “trepidation.. a feeling of fear or agitation about something that may happen.” he fell silent at the sound of your quip words. the cold was bustling as the night grew darker. you knew stiles was panicked, and not knowing what to do. but you didn’t know to what extent his fear was at.

you heard staggered breathing from behind you. quickly, you whipped your head to see stiles on the floor, tears dripping down his eyes. “it just came out of nowhere”, he yelped in pain. “what did? what came out of nowhere?”, you briefly asked. stiles eyes were as cold as stone. he stared into the open gape of the trees from behind you. you quickly got onto the floor next to him. stiles was known for loving physical touch from you during these episodes. you pulled him into a hug, his head laid onto your chest. “stiles, it’s gonna be okay”, you whispered while hugging him. your hands got trapped into his brown locks of hair. his cold body shook while he whispered some words of breathe and it’s gone. “stiles what happened?”, you ask persistently.

his breathing began to get heavier, and heavier. you strained at the sound of him gasping for air. it was like his head was underwater, and you didn’t know how to drain it. “stiles, please, look at me”, you plead. he stares into your lighted eyes, and starts to breathe. “listen to me sti.. trepidation”, you speak. his eyes grew warmer as your voice seemed to echo in his entire mind. “trepidation.. a feeling of fear, or agitation about something that may happen”. you see his body move up and down with the beat of his each breath. his face was less tense, and his body more relaxed. panic attacks weren’t uncommon for him, but this one sparked fear into you.

“just remember stiles.. trepidation.”

———————————————————

[bad268]

Publicly in Love (Frog Boys X Reader)

[Blank] in Love Pt 4

Fandom: RPF/Miscellaneous

Requested: Technically no, but I incorporated two requests from @youngcreatorlady and @goldenstarofthunderclan. I hope yall don't mind <3 Side note, I’m gonna start taking requests for Pezzy! I’ve been in a Pezzy mood and found out I really like writing for him lol

Warnings: none.

Pronouns: First person (I/me/they/them)

W.C. approx 220 each

Summary: Going public with the Frog Boys

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~

<-Part 3

Puffer

“Are you sure this is the best way to go about this?” I asked, looking back at Puffer from my spot on his lap. We were looking at the screen where he was logged into his Instagram with a drafted post of the two of us. He thought the best idea was to hard launch on Instagram and hope for the best. “You barely post as it is. This will give everyone a heart attack.”

“Would you rather join a live stream?” He asked back rhetorically, knowing I would not do well under the live scrutiny. “This is just easier.”

“Easier for who? You, me, or your fans?” I laughed back as I leaned my head onto his shoulder.

“You and me,” he whispered, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist. “If we did a live stream, it would be an hour or two of straight questions. If we post something, I can log off and we can completely forget about it.”

“You are devious. I love it,” I chuckled, looking back at the caption. “What are you going to say?”

“I don’t know yet,” He admitted, “What do you think?”

“Fuck it, we ball,” I replied, straightfaced before turning back to make eye contact, “Hard launch edition.”

“That’s so bad!” He laughed, leaning in to hide his face in my shoulder.

“You never said it had to be good!”

~~

Pezzy

Drunk Q&As were fun. Especially when it had been going on for a couple of hours at this point. Ever since I came back from visiting my family, my mentions have been blowing up with clips from the stream where I called Pezzy my favorite simp. It was while drunk that I remembered that Pezzy and I never confirmed or outed our relationship.

“Are yall roommates or what cuz damn I wish my roommate looked at me like that,” one of the comments read.

“Yeah, if his roommate also gets to go out with him,” I laughed, downing the last shot of soju. “I also get to kiss him, so that’s fun.”

“Fun?!” he laughed, almost falling off his chair. “Kissing me is fun?”

“What would you rather me talk about?” I quipped back. “I can talk about how mindblowing you are-”

“And that’s enough from you,” He slapped his hand over my mouth to stop me from talking. “You’re cut off. Don’t continue that thought.”

“I was going to talk about your bike but okay,” I groaned after I pulled his hand away from my mouth, but kept his hand in mine. “Anyways, chat. He’s mine, so back the fuck up.”

“So possessive, damn,” he laughed, pulling our intertwined hands up to place a kiss on my knuckles. “It's hot.”

“Nah, just jealous.”

~~

Droid

“Guys, I swear to god,” I groaned into my pillow. I agreed to do a sleep stream with Droid weeks ago, but now, it was honestly hell. Not only was I so drained from the day in general, I was not feeling at all social to put up a facade for the viewers. My social battery was dead, and I just seemed pissed, probably. “Can we not play the Buzz Lightyear commercial nine times in a fucking row?!”

“That’s what that noise was?” Droid asked as he came back into the room with snacks and drinks. “Did yall make them insane or what?”

“Shut the fuck up,” I wined as I covered my ears. Droid set the drinks and snacks to the side as he laid down on his side of the mattress we set up. He also leaned over to the speakers to turn them down a couple of notches before leaning back. Once he was situated, I moved his arm, so I could lay into his side. “Chat, don’t. Just don’t fucking say anything.”

“Yeah, they’re allowed to do this,” He said into the microphone as he pulled up the chat on his phone, reading through some of the comments. “We get it, they’re cute and tired. Shut it.” 

Despite the noise, it did not take long to fall asleep. And it certainly did not take long for the chat to notice either. However, it was not until chat started spamming at Droid did he noticed. “Guys leave my s/o alone. Be lucky they even agreed to this.”

~~

Grizzy

Being on a panel at PAX AUS was a highlight of any creator. To have been invited was unimaginable. I was invited to be on a panel with the Misfits along with Grizzy and Smitty. We had flown in a few days prior (with a load of delays, might I add), and now, it was finally the day.

Sitting on the stage was surreal. With Grizzy on my left and Tobi on my right, we started answering questions down the line.

“Next question is for Y/n and Grizzy, technically,” the fan started. Immediately, I knew where it was going, so I lifted my hand that was already holding Grizzy’s onto the table. The fan began stuttering as they gestured to our hands. “Um, I think that answers my question.”

“If the question was if Girizzy and I are together,” I said just to confirm, and I was met with a timid nod from them, “the answer is yes. We have been together for a couple of months now.”

“And before anyone asks, technically, they made the first move,” Grizzy added.

“I thought you were asleep!” I objected, turning to face him while still keeping the microphone in my hand.

“That does not make it sound any better!” Grizzy and the rest of the group laughed.

“Trust me,” Fitz interjected, “that does not make it sound any less creepy. And I even know the whole story!”

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up, all of you!”

~~

Part 5 ->

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[nameless-ken]

Aight, so I don't know if this makes a lick of sense, but I'm trying.

Basically, can you do a piece where Billy and Reader are at the gas station at the same time (not that they really realize it). And Reader is trying to start up her car just as Billy is leaving the store, and her car won't start and she has run out of quarters for the pay phone (or something, not important). Billy watches this go down and they bicker a bit until he is just like "So you want to freeze in a dead car?" Or "Do you want my help or not." (Something like that) IDK how you want it to end, I have no preference.

Not necessarily romance, more like they know of each other but haven't really interacted, and Billy is either just trying to be a better person or is helping because he thinks reader is hot and slightly expected her to be easier to woo.

Feel free to change anything. I'm just a sucker for bickering really.

It's usually hard for me to not write romance lol so this kind of friendly behavior was fun to write! Thanks for the request, hope you like it <3

Check out my masterlist for more!

Roadside Assistance

You're standing by your car, frustration mounting as the engine refuses to cooperate. It's the worst possible time for a breakdown—at a gas station, of all places. You've tried everything, but the stubborn machine won't even sputter to life. You glance around, hoping for a miracle or at least a pay phone to call for help.

Meanwhile, Billy exits the gas station store, a bag of chips and a bottle of whiskey in hand. He's about to hop into his own car when he notices your predicament. There's a moment of recognition that crosses his face as he remembers you from high school. 

"What's the problem?" Billy asks, not unkindly but also not so friendly, as he approaches your car.

You shoot him a frustrated look, feeling a mix of embarrassment and irritation at being caught in this situation. "My car won't start," you reply curtly, patience running thin.

Billy eyes the car for a moment before glancing back at you, an amused glint in his eyes. "Looks like you're having a rough day," he observes, a hint of sarcasm creeping into his tone.

You bristle at his comment, feeling a surge of defensiveness. "Thanks for the observation," you retort, your tone laced with sarcasm of your own.

He quirks an eyebrow, not backing down. "Need a hand?" he offers, his expression unreadable.

You hesitate, weighing your options. Pride wars with practicality, but ultimately, the cold air and the sinking realization that you're stranded win out. "Fine," you relent, admitting defeat. "But don't think I owe you anything."

Billy chuckles, a smug grin spreading across his face. "Wouldn't dream of it," he teases.

You roll your eyes, begrudgingly grateful for the lifeline he's offering. With that, cooperation takes precedence over bickering, at least for the moment.

Billy steps forward with a confident stride, a smirk playing on his lips. "That's the spirit," he says, leaning across you with a smirk as he pops the hood, his movements surprisingly deft. He walks back around, propping it open. 

He seems to know his way around an engine, which surprises you. Maybe there's more to Billy than meets the eye.

"So, what's the diagnosis?" you quip, joining him. 

He shoots you a playful stare before turning his attention back to the engine. "Looks like your battery's dead," he replies, his tone matter-of-fact.

You groan inwardly, cursing your luck. Of course, it would be something as simple as a dead battery. "Great," you mutter, running a hand through your hair in frustration.

Billy shoots you a sympathetic look. "Lucky for you, I come prepared," he says, his voice carrying a hint of reassurance.

You watch as he strides over to his car parked a few spots away, starting it up and maneuvering it in front of yours. He returns by your side triumphantly with a set of jumper cables held high. Despite your embarrassment at having to rely on him, a sense of gratitude wells within you. "Thanks," you mutter, feeling the weight of the situation lift slightly.

Billy shrugs off your discomfort with ease. "No problem," he replies casually, connecting the cables to his battery.

"Try again," he instructs, gesturing toward your car as you climb back inside. With a sense of hope, you insert the key once more, willing the engine to start.

As the engine roars to life, you can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. Maybe Billy isn't so bad after all. You shoot him a small smile of gratitude, silently acknowledging that maybe, just maybe, you misjudged him.

Billy returns the smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he meets your gaze. "See? That wasn't so hard," he says, a hint of smugness in his tone. You roll your eyes, but there's a small flicker of amusement in your chest. 

Billy steps back, a satisfied grin on his face as he watches your car come back to life. "Glad I could be of service.”

"Yeah, thanks again," you reply, genuine appreciation coloring your words. He waves off your thanks with a casual flick of his hand. "Anytime," he says, his voice surprisingly warm.

Maybe this chance encounter was exactly what you needed—a reminder that sometimes, unexpected allies can come from the most unlikely of places.

With a final nod of gratitude, you climb into your car, ready to get home for the night. As you drive off, you can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, this won't be the last time you cross paths with Billy.

[leeeeeeeeech]

He Looks Good in Red

Trigger warning for gore, past sexual abuse, past psychological abuse, past physical abuse, PTSD, and violence.

This is based off of my personal experience with PTSD. I can't speak for other people's trauma. So take that with a grain of salt.

With all that out of the way, enjoy Beetlejuice beating the shit out of an abuser!! :3

The summer evening was warm and alive with the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses as The Maitland-Deetzes household enjoyed each other's company.

The golden hues of the setting sun filtered through the dust-ridden blinds, casting a soft glow on everyone's faces (shining through the ghostly majority of the party).

"Well! This has been a blast, but Y/n and I got some "alone time" to squeeze in." Beetlejuice waggled his eyebrows suggestively, pulling me close to him. I huff, embarrassed by the announcement, yet grateful at the same time. My social battery could only take so much.

Lydia gagged, "You guys are so gross! Get a room."

"That's why we're leavin'!" Beetlejuice quipped back, blowing a raspberry at her.

As the Maitlands lovingly scolded Lydia for her comment, Beetlejuice and I slipped out. He floated beside me, chewing on his fingers as we made our way onto the sidewalk.

"I figured us bonin' would be the quickest way outta there, toots." He explained himself, waving his hand dismissively. I shake my head.

"It's fine, Beej. I appreciate you looking out for me."

He snorts. "Uh, its kinda my job."

We continue like this for quite some time, laughing at each other and the strange looks I get from strangers for talking to the air. We turn a corner, and find ourselves just outside a charming little ice cream parlor.

"You know, ice cream doesn't sound half bad right now." I muse, watching the elderly woman pass a cone of rocky road to a child eagerly grabbing for it with their grubby fingers.

"Aren't you allergic to dairy?"

"Like that's stopped me before?"

"I don't wanna hear you complaining when my face is attached to your ass later."

I laugh at the implication. "Like you're not kissing my ass 24/7 anyway?" I retort.

He has no comeback for that, huffing and floating around me a couple times silently as I order a small cup of frozen dairy goodness. I turned to find us a seat, my eyes scanning the tables, looking for an open spot.

I feel my heart jump into my throat as I recognize one of the men sitting further back.

Him.

Beetlejuice's rambling muffles in my ears as I feel like my soul is trying to claw itself out of my skin.

Shit he just made eye contact with me.

Fuck.

He's getting up.

FUCK.

Every breath is misery as I look for an out. It takes the icy grip of the dead to shoot me back into reality. Beetlejuice is here. His hands on either side of my face.

"Y/n? You good babe?"

I shake my head, only noticing the tears when he wipes them from my cheeks.

"Y/n!" He tries to get my attention, waving his arm at me. Beetlejuice turns his way, looking at him, then back to me.

"I take it you don't wanna talk to this guy?"

"No, it's okay. I'll summon you if I need you." I whisper, steeling myself to face him. I had to at some point. Right?

"It's been ages! How've you been?" he claps me roughly on the shoulder. I flinch, taking a step back from him. Beetlejuice growls, floating closer to me.

"B-Better." I manage to say, cursing myself for stuttering. Way to show that you're stronger, Y/n.

He chuckles, going to touch my shoulder again. I take a step back, and his smile drops.

"Hey, what gives?"

"Beetlejuice beetlejuice beetlejuice." I whisper as quietly as I can.

"Babe! There you are!" A much more human looking Beetlejuice comes jogging to my rescue. I sigh in relief as he wraps an arm around me, pulling me into him.

"Aaaand you are?" Beetlejuice questions, his stance firm.

"I'm just an old friend," he said, though his eyes never left me. "Isn't that right, Y/n?"

It felt like the ground had vanished beneath my feet. The memories I've tried so hard to bury surging forward and crushing me under their weight.

"We aren't interested in catching up," Beetlejuice said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "So if you'll excuse us."

His face darkened. "I don't think you understand," he said, stepping closer. "Y/n and I have unfinished business. Isn't that right, Y/n?" His voice took on that menacing edge that made me want to shrink into myself.

My breath caught in my throat. I wanted so badly for this to be some sort of nightmare. Some strange manifestation of my trauma coming back to haunt me for the last laugh.

Beej's grip on my hand tightened, grounding me just enough for me to regulate my breathing.

"Look," Beetlejuice said, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't know what your problem is, but you need to back the fuck up. Now."

He sneered, leaning in as if to intimidate. "Or what?" He challenged, his eyes boring into Beej's.

Beetlejuice didn't flinch, his eyes burning a dangerous color.

"Or you'll regret it." He replied evenly. His tone was calm, but the threat was clear.

For a tense moment, it looked like he was weighing his options. His eyes flicking between Beetlejuice and me. Finally, he took a step back, his expression now cold.

"Nice seeing ya, Y/n." He hissed, before turning on his heel, sauntering back to his group.

Beetlejuice kept his eyes on him until he was out of range. Only then did he turn back to me, his expression softening.

"You don't have to tell me anything, but I know that look." He said softly, giving my hand a squeeze before looking around to see if anyone was watching us.

Satisfied, he snaps his fingers, and suddenly we're in my apartment. I look down, and I'm in my favorite set of pajamas.

The events of the evening come hurtling at me like bricks, as the gravity of reality smashes into me, all I can do is crumble to the floor, sobs wracking my body.

The intensity is too much, I feel like I'm drowning in fear. All I can see is him. His hands, his smile, his sadistic laugh. All over me, clawing, scratching, prying me open like an aluminum can.

Please stop. I can't take this.

Please.

Beetlejuice is talking to me, but I can't hear him. He's rubbing my back, but I can barely feel it.

I hate this. I hate how easily he can make me fall apart all over again. He should be the powerless one, not me. Yet here I am, having a breakdown in my living room all because I saw him again.

Beetlejuice mumbles something about bed, but before I can decipher what he's talking about, he hoists me up, carrying me with ease to the bedroom. I feel like I'm underwater as he tucks me into bed. Objects and faces blurring and feeling out of place.

"Do you want me here?" He asks softly, pointing to the spot next to me. I nod, and he's instantly under the covers, pulling me into his chest. I breathe a sigh of relief, not even caring about the B.O. smell wafting off of him.

"I could kill him." He says suddenly. At first I think he's joking to make me laugh, but his tone is far too serious. I meet his gaze, and see that he is absolutely serious.

"That wouldn't solve anything." I croak out. He huffs, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"That bastard deserves it."

"Yeah, but it won't fix anything."

He groans. "I just hate seeing you so… so…" He struggles to find the right word.

"Broken?" I try.

He shakes his head. "I was gonna say hurt."

I shrug. Close enough.

"You sure I can't beat the shit outta him?"

I laugh. "Sure, if you magically find him, you have my permission to kick his ass."

I'm tired. I feel my eyes fluttering closed. My surroundings all becoming fuzzy.

"You promise?"

"Promise what?"

"What you just said."

"Yeah, sure, I promise," I pause, really considering the hypothetical for a moment. "On one condition."

The blankets shift as he readjusts to look at me, his eyebrows raised, asking silently in question.

"I get to watch."

"What?"

"If you're going to beat him, I want to see it."

I cough, embarrassed with how bad that sounded. "You know, for closure, and okay, a little bit of sadism."

Beej snorts, pulling me closer to him, kissing the top of my head sloppily, I cringe as I feel a little drool sliding down the back of my neck.

"Thank you." I whisper

He pets my head affectionately. "Don't thank me."

The next couple days were spent trying to get back into the groove of normalcy. It wasn't easy, but I was managing. Music helped. Most of the time my headphones were on, full blast as I went about my business whether it was at home or in public. I could care less.

Beetlejuice was off doing who knows what in the Netherworld. Something about "unfinished business" I tried not to read too much into it, but the timing was suspicious.

"Hello again, Y/n." My eyes widened, my arm halting its journey to the top shelf. I turn, now completely in the shadow of him.

"What do you want." I manage to grind out. He chuckles, reaching above me and grabbing the can I was reaching for, and carelessly tossing it into my cart.

"Oh, come on, don't act like that." He smiles at me, but the mirth doesn't reach his eyes. I steel myself, and continue forward, pushing the cart. Each step away from him was easier than the last.

"I know you miss me." He drawls, following closely behind me. I let out a bark of laughter.

"What gives you that impression?"

"I can see it in your eyes."

I scoff, turning down the next aisle, cranking up my music. He's still there, gesturing as he speaks. I turn, focusing my attention back on my shopping list. Okay, bread, energy drinks-

My headphones are yanked off of my head. I flinch, turning back to him.

"It's rude to ignore people, Y/n." He tutted at me, placing my headphones out of reach.

"Please just leave me alone." I say, trying to keep it together. Why can't anyone walk by? I know there's people here. I know there's cameras.

"You're giving me mixed signals here, babe." He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. I don't respond. He leans in closer to me, making me back up, my back hitting the shelf behind me. I'm trapped.

"Don't you miss how I could make you whimper? How you would squirm? I know I do~" He grabs me by the chin, forcing me to look at him. I manage to hold back the tears threatening to spill.

"You were always so easy. So obedient~" His breath was hot in my ear. I cringed, struggling to push him away.

"Please."

"Here in the store~? Ohhh naughty Y/n~"

"This is a public place you guys."

He flinches, turning to face an employee. "Ah, sorry, ma'am. Got carried away heh." He apologizes, releasing me to step closer to her, explaining how sometimes you just forget where you are.

I grab my purse and run to the door, groceries and headphones forgotten.

Once I'm in my car, and the door is locked I let out a shaky breath.

"It's okay. It's okay it's okay it's okay it's okay. You don't need to summon him." I reassure myself. I couldn't call Beetlejuice everytime things went south.

I pull out of the parking lot, not missing him take a picture of my license plate.

"How tight of a leash does the netherworld have on you?" I ask Beej as soon as I walk in the door. He looks at me surprised, floating closer to me.

"It's loosened since we started dating. Why?" He squints at me, searching my face.

"What happened at the store?"

I sigh. "He came onto me."

Beetlejuice grabs my shoulders, concern evident in his eyes. "What do you mean 'came onto you'?" His tone venomous.

I tell him what happened. Each thing I say has his eyes darkening, and his jaw tightening more.

"How likely is it for the netherworld to find out if you 'hypothetically' cave his face in?"

Beetlejuice smirks, meeting my gaze. "Oh, I can keep it under wraps. Don't you worry babes."

He snaps his fingers, and suddenly I'm in a bubble, floating over an empty parking lot. The stars twinkle above me. I look around in awe, taking in the odd beauty of this place. My wonder is interrupted by a portal opening, and Beetlejuice dragging him through it.

"The fuck is your-!" He goes to stand, but Beetlejuice punches him hard in the gut, making him double over in pain. I wince, but despite myself, I'm grinning. Beetlejuice blows me a kiss while he's doubled over.

I blow one back. "Get his ass babe." I cheer from my bubble in the sky.

He coughs, spitting some blood onto the pavement. "Y/n send you after me? They've always been a scared lil bitch." He smirks, squaring up with Beej.

Beetlejuice just smiles. His eyes glowing red. His form splutters, melting into the concrete.

"Ohhh this is gonna be fun."

He looks around, fists still raised, but I can see his confusion taking over. A tentacle shoots out of the ground, grabbing him by the ankles and slamming him into the concrete. I see his nose break.

"FUCK." He screams out in pain. Beetlejuice keeps a hold of his ankle, dragging him towards his form as he materializes from the ground once again. This form I've never seen before.

Rows upon rows of teeth, flesh bubbling and oozing out of every orfice of his being. Eyes bulging, and blinking. A low rumble shakes the entire parking lot. The ground cracking and groaning with each step Beetlejuice takes.

"This is gonna be slow." He drawls, his voice low and booming. "This is gonna be agonizing." Another step, and he is completely engulfed by Beej's shadow.

"And this is gonna fucking hurt." He snarls, the form bubbling and spilling over, practically flying into the man's mouth. I watch in horror and disgust (and absolute delight) as he screams, clawing at his eyes. Viscera and blood spraying from his sockets as he continues to wail and screech.

He leans forward and vomits. Blood, guts, eyes, tongues, teeth all pouring from his body like a flood. The puddle forms back into the shape of Beetlejuice. Smiling wickedly.

"P-Please! I'm sorry!" He whimpers, now on his knees and blindly reaching for Beej. He scoffs, waiting for his hand to touch the pavement before stomping on it, his heel crushing the man's hand. He screams.

"Oh, you're not sorry yet." Beetlejuice keeps his heel pressed into the man's palm.

"This lil piggy went to market," Beetlejuice broke the index finger, it was now facing in the wrong direction. "This lil piggy stayed home." Crunch. "This lil piggy had roast beef." Snap. "And this lil piggy had none." Twist.

He continued this until the tenth finger. "And this one," He growled, taking it in his hands. "Went wee wee wee all the way home."

Riiiiip

"Now, what else can I do without killing you?" Beej pondered, tossing the man's finger aside. The man wept, his screams now a whisper. His breaths quick and rapid. Like a rabbit.

Beej snapped his fingers together, string shooting up from the ground, tying the man in place. Pinned like a bug.

"Babes? Anything you wanna do?" Beetlejuice looked to my bubble hovering a little ways above him. I was captivated by him. He looked hot as hell right now.

"Y/n?"

"Hmm? Oh! No, you've got this covered. Just hurry this up?"

"Are you getting queasy?"

"Not quite."

His eyes widen, a dark chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Ohhhh I see. Don't worry, I'm almost done. Then I'm all yours~"

"Are you two fucking flirting right now- AH!" The man screams again as a spike shoots through his shoulder.

"Nobody gave you permission to talk, fuck face." Beetlejuice seethed. The strings holding him in place tightened, cutting into his skin. He screamed, thrashing wildly, but the more he moved, the deeper the strings cut.

Muscles ripped and tore, tendons exposed to the cold air. His intestines spilling from the gash in his stomach. Veins popped, vessels of blood sprinkling from him like he was meant to water grass.

He sobbed, straining against the strings.

"Please, please."

Beetlejuice leaned foward, looming over him. "Please what?"

"Kill me!" The man sobbed.

Beetlejuice laughed. "Wish I could, bud. Fortunately for you, Y/n has asked me not to. They are the only reason you are still breathing. Not that you deserve to."

Beetlejuice snapped his fingers and the strings disappeared. The man looked back to normal, but he continued to sob and wail. Beetlejuice grabbed him by the collar, yanking him up to his level.

"You will never touch Y/n, you will never talk to Y/n, you will never look at Y/n, you won't even think about Y/n. Is that clear?"

He nods profusely, his sobs being occasionally interrupted by hiccups.

"Get the fuck outta here before I change my mind." The portal opens once again, and the man dashes through it. My bubble floats closer to Beej, popping once it lands safely on the ground. I look at him, absolutely drenched in blood and grinning like a madman.

"I love you." I find myself blurting. He jumps a little at the unexpected exclamation. "I love you too." He opens his arms and I crash into him, knocking him to the ground with an Oomph.

"You look really good in red~" I say, cupping his face delicately. He chuckles, grabbing my hand and kissing the palm of it.

"You really think this is a good idea right now?"

"Why not?"

"I just want to make sure you're okay."

I sigh, giving his forehead a kiss. He purrs at the contact, leaning into it.

"I'm okay, I promise. Now show me that monster form again~?"