#i am writing this what is for me late at night as a morning person bear with the. absolute rambly nonsense

[kamimarroco]

A story where Ren suddenly starts chatting with you because he apparently cares about you staying up late at night. Not reviewed, may undergo corrections in the future.

Words: 1100+

“are you still awake?”

The vibration of your phone and the appearance of a notification startled you, almost making you drop the device. You looked closely at the top left corner of the screen and saw the time.

It is currently 2:35 in the morning.

People at this time are usually sleeping, and those who aren't are probably sorting out work issues or are insomniacs.

You didn't fit into either of them, since your irregularity was due to the fact that you were too stubborn.

A shame, really.

You didn't stand on ceremony and immediately clicked on the notification, being taken to the chat with an unknown person.

Well, not really an unknown person... Looking more carefully, your sleepy mind managed to rationalize and recognize who you were talking to.

Oh, it's Ren.

“yea but dw, i'll go to sleep soon”

You immediately saw him start writing after receiving your message.

“are you sure? that doesn't sound honest to me. you've been online a lot lately”

How long exactly has he been watching you to say that? Sure, it's possible to see when your profile is online because of the app's settings, but it makes you wonder if he's been watching you all this time.

“have you been watching me online?”, you ask without hesitation.

You feel him give a slight chuckle from the other side of the screen.

“haha maybe. but don't get me wrong, you really do spend a lot of time awake at night, and that makes me a lil worried”

You're torn between finding his statement strange or acknowledging your not-so-healthy habit. It's true, you're weird, anyone would find it at least slightly worrying that you spend so much time online in the early hours of the morning.

“and what about you? you are also online right now at this very moment”, you retort back, anxiety consuming you as you wait for his response.

He would be considered a hypocrite for finding your habit troubling if he does the exact same thing.

“i have a very valid reason for that. my routine makes me stay awake at night and sleep in the morning or afternoon”

Now you feel an arrow hitting right in the middle of your heart. Sure, of course he would have a good reason to be awake at this hour.

You are the only odd one out in this situation.

“i'm sorry about that, i felt defensive about my habit being called out”, you apologized, worried that your words had come across as rude to him.

“that's alright. it's 2:42 am, no hard feelings”

You felt relieved that he didn't resent your words, despite knowing that they did not convey the same intonation as in real life.

you're thinking too much (or too little), your emotions are starting to eat you up.

“but i still think you should sleep”, he sent a second message.

You felt like a child being scolded by your father, being called out for your unhealthy behavior. You felt your cheeks flush and shame enter your system.

“i already told you, i'll sleep soon”, even if he doesn't notice, you felt like a sullen child trying to explain yourself.

“wheeen?”

“by the holy of god Ren, i'm not some kind of child”, you felt the need to say his nickname (name?) for the first time, trying to emphasize your slight irritation.

This time it took him a while to answer you, seeming to process the fact that you called him by his name. You felt judged in some way for this, thinking that maybe you weren't close enough to call him that.

when did you get so soft? is it sleep that's making you think too much?

Just as you were about to text him an apology, he interrupted you.

“i know that, i just worry about you”, his message warmed your heart in a way you couldn't imagine.

That's… sweet of him. Worrying about you even though you two are just strangers on the internet who bump into each other every now and then.

Are you falling in love?

“i appreciate ur concern, but i know what i'm doing”

No, you don't.

He sent you a picture of a fox with one eyebrow raised, appearing to doubt your certainty.

That brought out a genuine laugh you didn't know you were holding back.

you're leaving yourself vulnerable around him.

“aaaw what a cutie fox!! <3”, you said, referring to the image received.

“it really is! do you like foxes?”

“yea i like them! they are cute and fluffy and i honestly feel like hugging them”

For a while, Ren seemed to forget the fact that you were awake and kept talking to you about random, unrelated topics. Neither of them really had any connection with the other, but one thing led to another.

You noticed how easy it is to talk to him. He has a fluid oratory and is always making associations with other things he knows.

You found yourself incredibly interested and captivated in the conversation you suddenly began having with this stranger.

is this a red flag? shouldn't you be more concerned about a sudden approach?

When you looked at the time on your phone, you realized it was already 3:56 am, almost four in the morning.

Jesus, did you really spend that much time talking to him?

Feeling the tiredness consume you completely, you (finally) felt it was time to let your body have some much-needed rest.

“hey i know we're still talking, but it's almost four in the morning…”, you began delicately, not wanting to give him the wrong idea that you didn't want to talk anymore.

why are you so concerned about what he thinks, in the first place?

“i don't want to let our conversation end here, so i thought we could continue it another time”

Nonono, stop this, you're falling into his trap

“i'm sorry about this, my body is really screaming for sleep”

You idiot.

Ren analyzed your messages a bit before giving a proper response.

“awe that's alright! i really wanted u to sleep in the first place, and i feel kind of guilty that i did a bad job xd”

“keeping u awake and everything”

You felt guilty for him feeling guilty because it wasn't his fault in the first place! You were the idiot who decided to stay up at night, so the damage was already done.

“nonono u didn't! i was the dumb one for staying awake until now”

“i really enjoyed our conversation tbh”

You sent it and already felt your eyelashes getting heavy.

“hehe me too! i look forward to our next conversations”

“but now u really need to sleep, so pls don't stay up too long <3”

Silly little guy. He really gets you, doesn't he?

You felt happy that you had at least met someone during your time awake at night.

[chiistarri]

what if instead of messaging me in the middle of the night about your stupid fucking girlfriend and your stupid fucking problems with her you actually act like my fucking friend and message me like how you message everyone else in our group

[mxescargot]

Be aware I am slow to respond to donation requests and cannot currently donate myself, only share.

[Profile picture description: An image of KAITO, an anime-style character with fair skin, short messy blue hair, and a headset, against a muted genderfluid pride flag background. End ID]

[Header description: a digital drawing of a glowing white butterfly perched atop the spherical knob of a brass cage. Also atop the cage is a decorative horn to one side of the knob; the entire cage is coated in a translucent, glowing white filigree pattern that varies in opacity, getting brighter towards the butterfly. End ID]

helix or leucine or kamino, they/them mostly, east asian, adhd diagnosed autism vibechecked by every autistic person i know, disabled and a mobility aid user, very queer, also a median system that mostly uses i/me dwai

tealblood, prospit dreamer, mage of light ✨

i try to put image descriptions on my posts with images whenever possible and i use tonetags when i feel like tone is unclear. posts with undescribed images are tagged #no ids

i talk in caps and i dont tag weaponry or most "creepy crawlies"; i tag arthropods as #bugs for my own usage though. most common triggers + foo d and fire are tagged #trigger, #cw trigger, or #trigger mention

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my occasional vents are tagged #vent, block that if u dont wanna see them

i reclaim cripple and queer

dni in a nutshell: dont be awful or assholeish or exclusionary (esp militantly so) thanks, more detailed dni in my carrd

i draw things sometimes (usually in autodesk sketchbook) and thats under #helix draws, sloppy stuff is under #helix doodles

i dont make much music but what i do is under #helix composes even though the only thing there rn is not an original composition

i answer mostly non-askgame asks under #helix answers and other talky talking is under #helix talks

i have so many fandoms a list can be found in my carrd although it is probably not complete also i have ocs in some of the fandoms and ocs in my own universes; here is a list of most of them

my current hyperfixation is MLP:FIM, and i have special interests in biology, costuming/textiles, and linguistics as well as old sci fi, social justice, and US politics i think?

pfp by @prosekai-pride, header my own screenshot redraw from the silksong trailer

my carrd hasnt been seriously updated since i was in a big "heck yeah art is my Thing" phase sorry about that lmao

our sideblogs:

@mxescartgot - art blog

@ask-chinastuck - homestuck au askblog

@tako-luka-adventures - plush blog

some of us have personal blogs @orchid-of-kamino @cornu-of-kamino @phoenix-of-kamino @justynia-of-kamino @rarity-of-kamino @zhongyin-of-kamino

[fireinmoonshot]

surprise | tyler owens x reader

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader Summary: You drive to Oklahoma to surprise Tyler before a chase after he's had a stressful week. Warnings: Tyler calls reader baby. Other than that, I think there's nothing! Word Count: 1.2k A/N: I randomly had this idea after I rewatched Twisters tonight and thought it was so cute so I had to write it. I am also working on some requests you guys have sent in, just have been having a crazy few days at work so I haven't had the chance to finish and post them – but they're coming! For now, enjoy this! 💗

The second that Tyler stops the truck, it’s practically swarmed by tens of fans, all wanting an autograph and a selfie and the chance to see the famous Tornado Wranglers in person. The gas station is packed to the brim full of actual professional storm chasers and amateurs. You would consider yourself to be neither.

From your spot across the parking lot, you watch as Tyler exits the car, yelling his famous catchphrase: “If you feel it…”, the fans finishing it off with “chase it!” You’re leant up against the door of your own car, a smile on your face as you see the smile on Tyler’s. He almost always takes the time to greet everyone that’s come out to see them, signing photos and taking selfies. His stash of pre-signed photos that he keeps in his car always coming in handy.

Dating the one and only Tyler Owens, famous storm chaser, was not something for the weak. You’d known that from the very start. To anyone else, it’d probably bother them, having to wait for him to interact with all of the fans before he could make his way over to you. But for you? You love being able to watch him, see the genuine joy on his face at meeting the people who had changed his life by watching their once little Youtube videos. You wish you got to do it more often.

You know that when Tyler does eventually spot you, it’ll be worth all the waiting, worth the hours of solo driving you’d done alone to get here. Nearly seven hours of driving from your home in Arkansas just to surprise your boyfriend. He’d been stressed lately with the lack of storms across Oklahoma and the neighbouring states along Tornado Alley, wondering what was going to happen to their channel if they couldn’t produce content for it.

But the sight of everyone still taking selfies with the Wranglers proves to you that Tyler has nothing to worry about at all. You can see the Tornado Wranglers have a loyal fanbase. 

You watch for a few more minutes, stifling a yawn as you do. You’d stopped after five hours of driving last night and spent the night at a motel which had given you one of the worst nights sleep of your life, and done the last few hours in the morning before arriving at the gas station that Tyler had told you they were headed to today. It was the closest gas station to where storms were predicted today, hence the crowd. 

You’re about to start wandering over towards Tyler and the other Wranglers, still making their way through the crowd of fans, when you can see Tyler spot you. He’s just finished taking a selfie with a middle-aged woman when he stops in his tracks, eyes settling on you. Even from your distance, you can tell he’s spotted you.

It’s confirmed when he mutters a quick word to the people around him before he takes off at a run, straight towards you. He kicks up dust and dirt as he runs, trying to get to you as quickly as possible. You can’t keep the smile off your face as he gets closer.

“Baby, what the hell!?” He yells, not long before he reaches you. 

Tyler almost knocks the wind out of you as he barrels into you, wrapping his arms around your body and lifting you off the ground. He spins you around in a circle and it’s impossible not to laugh at the feeling, his arms tight around you. He sets you back down on the ground and pulls away, hands still resting on your waist.

“Surprise,” you grin at him. 

“You drove all this way just to surprise me?” Tyler looks at you in awe, his eyes both filled with an immense amount of love as well as a tinge of worry. “Baby, that’s a seven hour drive. Didn’t you have a shift yesterday? Please don’t tell me you drove all night.”

You shake your head. “I only drove till midnight, then I stopped at a motel. Promise.”

Tyler moves one of his hands to cup your cheek before he leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You’re insane, y’know that? Drivin’ till midnight after an eight hour shift. You should’ve told me. What if something had happened to you on the road?” 

You can see the worry etched on his face so you waste no time in pulling him in for a hug again, burying your face in his chest. Tyler reacts immediately, gently resting one of his hands on the side of your head. You feel him take a deep breath, taking everything in, taking your presence in. 

“Ty, nothing happened. I’m here, I’m safe. I’m with you.”

He nods and rubs one of his hands up and down your back. “Thank you for comin’, baby. You have no idea how good it feels to be holdin’ you right now. When I looked over here and I saw you… was like everything felt like it might actually be okay.”

“Cause it will be, Ty,” you assure him. “But I do feel a little bad for tearing you away from the people that didn’t get selfies or autographs with you before you ran off.”

Tyler pulls away from the hug, but he still keeps a hand on you. “You got nothin’ to feel bad about, baby. I promise you that. And they all know who you are, I’m sure they get it.” 

You smile up at him and then have to stifle another yawn. Your attempt at hiding it fails spectacularly, though, and Tyler narrows his eyes at you. 

“Did you get any sleep last night?” One of his hands rests on your cheek again, a thumb gently stroking back and forth over your cheek. 

“A little,” you say. “The motel was kinda dodgy. The mattress was like a rock.”

Tyler gives you one of his best unimpressed looks and shakes his head. “Okay, I’m sending you back to our motel. I’ll give you my room key, it’s in the truck, and you can go and rest up while we try and chase this storm this afternoon.”

“No, no,” you disagree. “I’m comin’ with you, Ty. I didn’t drive all this way just to be cooped up in some motel watching your chase on a computer screen. I gotta steal my seat back from Boone. He’s been gettin’ way too comfortable up there.”

Tyler let out a laugh and leans down to gently peck your lips. “Oh, baby, you know that seat belongs to you. And believe me, Boone knows it too.” 

He attempts to step backwards, then, but you’re quick to move, placing one of your hands on the back of his neck and bringing his lips back to yours. Tyler has no objections, wrapping his arms around your waist as he kisses you back. It’s been weeks since he last saw you, weeks since he got to kiss you like this. You’re surprised he managed to hold off on it for so long after reuniting with you. 

“Come on,” you say after breaking apart from the kiss. You reach down and grab Tyler’s hand in yours, weaving your fingers through his. “Let’s go give the rest of these people their autographs and selfies and get me my seat back.”

Tyler grins, giving your hand a squeeze. “Lead the way, baby.” 

[lampiridaes]

♬ now playing: "falling for you"

-> don't you see me? i think i'm falling for you (fallingforyou - the 1975)

summary. various hsr men realizing they're in love with you

chars. dan heng , sunday , aventurine , jing yuan

notes. THIS ONE IS FOR U MIZU-ANON (still gonna call u that despite the username change) had sm fun writing this. i am a biiiiig loser for these types of tropes i need to admit it. I HOPE WHEN U READ THIS U ENJOY MIZU-ANON!!!!!! LOVE U <3

contains. fluff, pre-established relationship, spoiler-free, reader is a trailblazer but not the trailblazer, march & trailblazer mentioned (dan heng), 'pretty' used as a compliment for reader (jing yuan)

inspired by -> this post!

track one: dan heng

staying up late talking to you. dan heng tends to pull all-nighters, but he never expected you to join in one time. it was actually a bonding moment—he felt as if you grew closer since that day. it wasn't exactly a deep talk, it was more like an icebreaker. compared to march and the trailblazer, dan heng was much more reserved, so you saw a different side to him that night. one that you ended up seeing more and growing quite fond of.

always turning their head if your name is mentioned. every morning when the express crew gets up and eat breakfast together, dan heng finds himself always looking over whenever someone calls you. "[name], let's share!" march 7th would exclaim, then the black-haired man's attention immediately turned to your direction.

... and when you notice that a certain someone is staring at you, you make eye contact and smile, which seemed to have flustered him a little. ah, he's growing smitten, slowly.

track two: sunday

realizing certain traits about you that he finds endearing, your curiosity being the most prominent one. with sunday being a halovian, you couldn't help but admire his features, namely his wings. yet you were far too shy to ask if you could touch them—after all, what if he were to feel uncomfortable? but, to your surprise, sunday was the one that offered, finally acknowledging your silent wish. his wings were undeniably soft, but also quite sensitive, fluttering away from your touch. at first, you thought you did something wrong, but judging from the light blush on the oak family head's face, you could tell he actually enjoyed it.

realizing he's in a better mood when you're in a good mood. being head of the oak family, sunday has a tough job. and yet, when he sees you smiling to yourself, sometimes even attempting to help him in any way you can, sunday finds an odd warmth in his chest. one he doesn't experience quite often.

track three: aventurine

the first smile you share. sometimes you wonder whether or not aventurine is serious in certain situations. sometimes you wonder if he's even your friend or if he's using you in a gamble you aren't even aware of. but that one fateful day when he met your gaze and smiled, you could feel your heart skip a beat. aventurine constantly wears a confident smirk, one that makes him seem like someone to be weary of. and that smile of his... perhaps you were the lucky one this time.

flirting with you. actually, your friendship as a whole had some... weirdly romantic undertones, but after a while, the both of you sort of started to truly think about the entire thing. was he serious when he said that you were the only person he wanted? were you serious when you said you wouldn't mind it if he kissed you? only one way to find out, no?

track four: jing yuan

getting things that remind him of you. whether it'd be a shiny trinket he figured you'd like, or even an expensive piece of jewelry, jing yuan slowly started gifting you different things quite frequently. and whenever you'd ask, his response would always be, "it looks pretty, just like you."

finding time for you and spending his free time around you. it's no secret that jing yuan is a busy man, being the general of the luofu. and yet, after those hours are finished, or he managed to catch a break in the middle of the day, he always looks for you somewhere in exalting sanctum and ask if you'd like to take a short stroll with him. you answer yes every time.

[ariaxmu]

cancellations

summary: theo keeps cancelling your dates, and you think it's because he isn't interested anymore. however..

warning: anxious!theo, theo has a mini panic attack, reader helps calm him down.

a month. that is how long it's been. an entire month.

a month ago, theo and i both desperately, and drunkenly, confessed our feelings for each other, after months of pining and flirting. it was truly the best night of my life. he asked me on a date, it was all planned perfectly, but it never happened.

he cancelled the first one, saying he was sick and couldn't make it. i saw him the following morning with his friends, looking perfectly fine, but i thought maybe he just took some potions and was feeling better. he apologized profusely, and we rescheduled. so i did not see this as a red flag, but now i'm not so sure.

the second time, the week after, he cancelled again. blamed it on the boys had thrown some impromptu party for blaise as his birthday was a couple of days after and they didn't realize. so i told him it was okay, we could reschedule, and that was that. he didn't even invite me to the party. and then, reluctantly we rescheduled again.

then he started ignoring me more around the school, and in classes. it's like he was avoiding me like the plague. everyday, i just prayed he would come up to me, apologize for everything and make time for me. but that day never came.

which leads us up to today. our date was supposed to be tonight, but as i stare down at the letter in my hands with watery eyes, i'm let down... again. i glance over at the slytherin table, i notice him almost hiding from me as his friends look over apologetically.

''hi, need to reschedule again. something came up - t.n <3''

i feel frustration bubble up in my chest as i read the pathetic note. i'm not one to usually get angry, but this is beyond hurtful and embarrassing. i'm tired of defending him to my friends, i'm tired of having my hopes crushed. i'm just tired.

i wipe a stray tear from my eye as my friends look at me, sympathetically. i sniffle, why can't i just be the girl someone chooses for once.

i grab my quill, quickly writing a response to his note, scoffing because he couldn't even tell me in person.

''don't reschedule this time. tired of being let down. thanks for wasting my time. - y/n.''

i stand up, hot tears still in my eyes as i walk over to the slytherin table, theo's eyes widening and cheeks bright red as i walk over. i put the note down in front of him, angrily, before walking away and out of the great hall. the dam breaks as i sob into my hands, rushing back to my dorm room to hide.

--third person--

theo quickly grabs the note, his heart and stomach dropping as he reads the words. ''shit... shit!'' he exclaimed, worriedly rubbing a hand over his face. he throws the note to his friends, as they all read it and cringe.

''damn.. you really messed this up, huh?'' mattheo mumbles out.

''yeah no shit'' theo groans.

''man you should have just told her from the start, she is kind, she would have understood'' draco says, patting theo's back.

''and what would i say? oh hi love of my life, i'm going to cancel on every one of our dates because i'm too anxious and shy?'' he scoffs.

''not exactly, but essentially yeah. she would've helped you'' draco says with a soft sigh.

''what am i supposed to do now? i can't lose her, you all know how i feel about her'' theo sighs.

''you need to explain to her why you cancelled so many times. just be honest, tell her you have anxiety and this stuff makes you freak out.'' enzo says, ''if you don't you're going to lose her.''

''what if it's too late?'' theo gulps.

''go there now. only one way to find out'' mattheo nods. theo takes a deep breath in, standing up and rushing out of the great hall. his hands shaking, palms sweating as he tried to keep himself calm.

this is what happens every time he is near y/n. he stumbles on his words, feels light headed, sweats and shakes. it's not something he has truly ever experienced before, having feelings this strong for someone. but he knows it's something he can't let his anxiety get in the way of.

--back to normal--

i cry into my pillow, feeling utterly humiliated. i have never liked someone as much as i like him, and i thought he felt the same. but clearly not.

my head snaps up as i hear a knock on my door, and i quickly hop up thinking it would be one of my friends coming to comfort me. i wipe my eyes, opening the door, heart dropping when i see theo there.

''h-hi'' he stutters out. he looks flushed, breathing ragged as he stands there.

''hi..'' i sniffle. ''what do you want?''

''i came here to uh, explain myself. can i c-come in?'' he gulped.

i nod once, feeling defeated. he walks in, sitting on the end of my bed. ''sit with me'' he takes in a deep breath.

''look, if you're just here to tell me that you don't like me anymore, or that you found someone else then just leave. i don't need to hear it'' i say, tears welling up in my eyes again just at the thought.

''n-no! it's neither of those things. my feelings for you haven't changed from the moment i met you'' he says, a little on edge but softly.

''then what is it?'' i say, confused as i sit beside him.

he shakes his head for a moment, his face going more red, breathing sounding shaky and irregular, body shaking slightly. i furrow my brows, becoming a little worred.

''are you okay? theo?'' i say, grabbing one of his hands with mine gently.

''i-i just get like this sometimes, no big deal'' he gulps, barely getting his words out through his fast breathing.

''no big deal? theo i think you're having a panic attack'' i say, standing up so i can kneel in front of him, grabbing both of his hands in mine.

''i-i can't breathe'' he choked out, breathing getting faster by the minute.

''you need to take slower breaths, theo. look at me, breathe with me'' i say as gently and as calm as i could.

''n-no i can't'' he coughs, only making the breathing worse. i look into his eyes, noticing them watering with tears, one trickling down his red cheek. hair sticking to his forehead, i am frantic as i try to think of something to help because the breathing exercises aren't.

i furrow my eyebrows, thinking of anyway i can stall his breathing without making him worse. then i get an idea.

''forgive me for this, theo, just trust me'' i say softly, before i lean up and press my lips onto his. his eyes widen for a moment, my kiss stopping his frantic breathing as he looks at me extremely shocked.

and after a moment, i feel him breathing softly through his nose, watching his eyes flutter and close, and he kisses me back. i keep my hands locked with his as we kiss, the shaking stopping as they grip mine.

and after a while, he pulls back, taking one deep breath in, and out. he locks eyes with me as i look at him with rosy cheeks.

''are you feeling okay?'' i say softly.

''yeah... thankyou'' he gulps. ''how'd you do that?'' he breathes out.

''well.. i know to help a panic attack you need to slow the breathing so um.. when i kissed you, it slowed it down'' i say, nervously.

''woah. like magic..'' he says, nodding his head as his body finally relaxes.

''this is why i have been cancelling on you. because- i have been terrified that if we go somewhere or- if i'm just with you then i'll get like this, and i didn't want to embarrass you or make you like me less..'' he explains.

''theo.. that would never happen. i've been crazy about you for ages now, your anxiety will never change that. a-and if we went somewhere and you felt this way then i'd take you somewhere quiet and try to help you. you know that'' i whisper, moving his hair from his forehead. ''i just want to be with you, is all. i want to be the person you do come to about these things'' i explain softly.

he nods his head, smiling softly. 'i'm so sorry about the past month, it's been tough. i want to make it up to you'' he says, pulling me back up to sit beside him. ''i was so anxious but- now i'm here with you i have no idea why i was...'' he mumbles, pressing his lips onto mine for a split second, a gently peck ghosting my lips.

''date is back on for tonight. i'll meet you by the great hall at 7, okay?'' he says, smiling at me as my face lights up. i nod quickly.

''and if you feel anxious before then, come here and i can use my magic powers again'' i giggle, as he walks towards the door.

''even if i don't i will still be coming back here for that'' he winks as he leaves the room.

[eccentricallygothic]

When I want to read dark fics, your writing just hits. One of my guilty pleasures recently has been dark!winter soldier stuff and I was hoping you could write one.

If you can, can you make it where Bucky is still the Winter Soldier and finds himself completely enamored with the reader. He stalks her briefly and decides he has to have her. So where it gets dark is mean, brooding soldier kidnaps reader and makes her his housewife. (I’d like to think that some of Bucky’s 40ness is still there along with some good old fashion 50s idealization where he basically molds her into being his perfect little housewife.)

He can still be with hydra or not but this thought has been buzzing around in my head recently and I personally am not good at writing dark fics.

Um, hell yes I can! Also, not me having almost exactly the same idea (it was in my drafts and I totally merged it with yours). Sorry for being late uni kicks my butt hard TT. Also, please note that this is a headcanon kind of situation type deal but apparently there's a limit to how many bullets you can put per post so that's why it looks the way it does! Hope you like it still. Unedited ❤️

Warning(s): Dubcon (just to be safe), stalking, kidnapping, housewife kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, misogyny, domestic discipline, breeding kink (dash), age gap (I mean, man is over a century old). Contains mature content. Browse at your own discretion. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 

You are absolutely shit faced as you stumble out the backdoor of the club with two of your girlfriends tangled around each arm. 

You are all giggling, stumbling and slurring out curses, trying to shush each other as you trudge your forms to your apartment complex that is close by because driving is obviously out of question now. 

Were it not for your overly intoxicated state, you would have totally noticed the dark silhouette that stills in the dark alley facing the backdoor. 

The man masked in the darkness tilts his head to the side as he tries to read your party, having gotten caught off guard by the sudden bursting open of the door. 

One of your friends stagger in his direction and he moves back, his labored breaths warm in his mask, watching the girl as she retches her guts out.

Silence follows the wheezes and gags of the girl.

Then there is a sound– a melody in the air.

Soldat feels something stir within himself.

Something his masters did their best to suppress. 

Not that they would be doing any more of that. 

They needed to be alive to do something like that ever again.

His eyebrows furrow as he scans your group for the source of the sound; you. 

You are laughing.

At your friend that is throwing up.

Hands clutching your hurting sides, eyes scrunched, head thrown back, flushed and sweaty face vibrant under the bright moonlight as your hair frames it in the most perfect way possible. 

A shaky breath escapes the man covered in tears and blood of his captors and oppressors.  

His eyes scan your form. 

Beautiful. 

His metal hand clenches into a fist and he makes his resolve almost instantly;

Mine.

Soldat cannot recall much of his past except for a few things like his name.

But he knows that it has been a long, long time. 

And it's time to go home.

But a home is not walls and concrete. 

It is the people that live in it. 

His head is a mess as he scales a wall and follows you to your building, skipping from roof to roof effortlessly with a careful eye on your form.

James had finally broken free against hydra yesterday morning while they were experimenting something more brutal. 

And during the following hours, all various leaders that made the organization what it was were dead.

For what is a structure without its pillars?

He had plundered them single handedly. 

And now he was a slave no more.

James would live, and he would take.

Just as had been taken from him.

You woke up the next morning, sprawled across your bed.

As you winced and sat up, you could swear you had knocked out on the couch last night. 

But since you couldn't teleport, it was probably just a gap in your memory.

Right?

The second sign was the painkillers and water next to you on the bedside table.

The third was the window of your room that was open wide.

But you shook your head as you were behind on your schedule for the day and got on with your busy university student life. 

You should have taken notice of the signs. 

How things would always somehow work out when you were struggling with some sort of a problem. 

Regardless of whatever type of an issue it was. 

Your friends joked about it as Divine Providence. 

And Divine it was, you lived to learn. 

When it happened, it wasn't after a dramatic chase or anything. 

You had simply woken up in a room you had never seen before, tucked in the bed like it had been yours for ages.

What even happened? 

You had finished an assignment before heading to bed for an early class the next morning. 

But now you were timidly surveying the room, more and more panic filling you by the passing second. 

The house is beautiful and bright outside the dark room you had woken up in, big glass windows facing tall trees and various other type of greenery outside. 

A loud gasp escaped you when you were somewhere in the middle of the living room.

You turned around to find a huge and by that you mean, giant man standing a few steps away from you.

You could swear he wasn't there a minute ago.

But now he is towering over you, head tilted to the side as if interacting with something from an outer planet, eyes scanning your form slowly. 

As if he's savouring the sight of you in a…

Your blood runs cold as you look down to realize that you are dressed in a white sundress with yellow and red flowers printed on it.

Your eyes widen in horror.

Because you had been wearing your PJs last night–

Or, rather, the last time you were awake.

Before you can say anything, he extends a hand towards you invitingly, nodding sideways to what seems to be the kitchen. 

Something in his hand glints in the sunlight coming from the windows.

It is when your panicked vision realizes that the hand and the whole arm is made up of metal, your body backs away.

With your mouth agape, you demand shakily.

"Who the hell are you?" 

He sighs. 

"What the hell is this place? Why am I here? What the fuck is going on?!"

The man's features scrunch in disapproval. 

Your choice of words is much unappreciated.

"Good little wives don't ask questions." 

In his angry, fried and entitled delusional mind you are as much in love with him as he is.

Otherwise, why would you just accept all the favours he did for you during all these months he was building a perfect home for the both of you and your future children?

He takes a step in your direction and you leap back.

After a short game of cat and mouse, you are trapped against the glass window.

He is too close. 

There is a heavy looking vase on the table next to you.

The shock on his face is evident.

He hadn't expected you, his wife, such a small and innocent girl to disrespect her husband like this. 

You whimper in horror when he doesn't budge against the decoration piece exploding against his brow bone.

James' eyes narrow as he leans in, a thick stream of blood running down the hurt side of his face.

"Bad girl" and you take off without a second thought.

Thankfully, the door is straight ahead and surprisingly unlocked.

You run without looking back. 

The man is not chasing you like you expected. 

But you don't want to stick around and find out why. 

Though the reason is soon revealed when you race through the little garden and out of the fence door. 

You are looking behind you and at the house so it is not until you are a good distance away from it do you turn your head to look ahead. 

Icy horror pierces its way down your spine.

Sand and palm trees dominate your vision as far as you can see where you are and your right side.

A devastatingly vast ocean washes the shore you are running on from the left side.

That doesn't stop you until your body gives up after a few minutes. 

You ran into the jungle for some cover.

Sobs and tears burst out of you as you collapse on a blanket of leaves.

Your body is weak and confused. 

Many hours pass.

You wander and starve.

You hide and shake.

You tip toe and give up.

There are wild animals all around you.

You can hear them.

It's terrifying. 

So terrifying that when you hear the stranger's voice some time after dusk, you are almost glad.

Are you done? His bright blue eyes that you can make out even in the dim light ask you silently. 

"How'd you even find me?" You were sure you had run a good couple miles.

He refuses to respond until you place your shaking hand in his awaiting metal one. 

"I can smell you" his accent is almost foreign as he pulls you up, frowning at your hurt bare feet. 

It took you hours to get to where you were but it only takes James a few minutes to get you back home. 

"Before I clean you up, I need to punish you." You are baffled. "Good wives don't run away from their husbands." 

He doesn't listen to any of your protests and reason that day or ever.

"Little girls don't know what is right for them. Only their husbands can decide that." 

He thoroughly washes you that night after giving you the worst spanking, paying no mind to your begging and crying.

You are sniffling as you sit on the bathroom counter wrapped up in a towel an hour later, your sore ass buzzing under you.

Your captor is kneeling in front of you as he tends to your hurt feet. 

He tells you your rules as he does so.

"First, you are to always obey me no matter what. Second, your body belongs to me as I am your husband, so you should not try to deny me of it because it will never end well for you. Third, you will respect me or you will live to learn to do so. Four, you will do your chores like a good wife and fulfill your wifely responsibilities. Five, you are to always accept your punishments and thank me for disciplining you after I am through with you, should you choose to break a rule or misbehave. Six, you will not indulge in any activity that can potentially corrupt your little mind. Seven, you will speak with respect and never out of turn. Eight, you are to always greet me when you wake up or if I have been gone a while. Nine, you can try to run. I will never stop you. But when you return home after failing, you will take your punishment obediently. Ten, you must never touch yourself. You are mine and mine alone." 

Since the spanking is still fresh on your skin you panic a little and fear forgetting them.

But you find them pasted on the fridge the following morning because he knew you were too dumb to remember them.

A few days pass before you explode about not being his wife and call him crazy.

"You weren't saying that when I did you all those favours." 

Horror dawns upon you as you realize that it was him all along.

You don't give up easily, though.

You try to run more times than you can keep count.

Every direction, every plan and every map you make proves to be useless.

Because the last time you do so, you realize that you are on a fucking island.

And since there is a dock near the house with the pantry never running low on groceries, James has a means of transport hidden somewhere is no mystery. 

But you don't know when he does it. 

So far you haven't been able to figure out a pattern. 

Either he was right about you being dumb or your captor was really good at staying one step ahead of you.

Anyways, you have no choice but to return to him crushed and sobbing as always.

He is reading something when you collapse between his legs; ready to accept your punishment as you have learnt that hiding and denying only makes it worse. 

James isn't so bad if you follow his rules. 

He is just a kidnapper and a misogynist with dangerous reflexes. 

His face is smug as he puts the book away. You have noticed that he is not as stiff and troubled as he used to be when you first woke up here months ago at this point. 

"How was it, doll?" He loves to hear you talk about it as he bruises your ass. "Any luck?" 

Today, though, something different happens.

You don't know if it's resignation and surrender finally settling in or if you have actually started to like this life.

How James gives you a nod of approval and pats your head rewardingly whenever you follow all your rules without any trouble.

The way he lets you stay up past your bed time (yes you have one because good wives are healthy for their husbands) to read a book or watch a movie.

If you were extra good and talked to him (though he was a man of a few words) and helped him out with a little farming thing he had going on in the backyard/patio, he would even let you sleep in the following morning. 

No stress or pulling yourself through classes and tight budgets.

Just being what he considered good and then whatever you would mention briefly would be in the house within the next few days.

When he is done punishing you, you thank him and apologize according to routine. But then you hug him.

You tell yourself it is due to the sad reality that your torment is your comfort.

Has to be.

You have no choice.

And then something unexpected happens in the course of the next few days. 

While trying to make the best out of this situation, you start to notice the little things, quirks and rituals, habits and mannerisms of this man. 

How he doesn't say anything if he doesn't like a certain ingredient or condiment in something you cooked but pushes it aside to use as compost later.

The way he holds you extra tight some times when he mutters a foreign language in his sleep. 

How he stares at the scary metal arm after a long day while waiting for you to finish up dinner.

Or the way he struggles to hold himself back whenever you are in a close proximity to him because you cried once he crept his hand up your ass in a sexual way. 

You don't get him sometimes.

His morals are as mysterious as him. 

Because he kidnapped you and forced you to be his wife in a '40's way, strips you to spank and humiliate you during punishments, then bathes and comforts you in his own way of silently holding you against his chest in his arms until you calm down.

Your tears don't effect him. 

But then he refuses to touch you sexually after the one time he tried.

It takes you a while to make the most peace that you can with James, but it happens eventually because you don't have a choice.  

The loneliness starts to drive you mad otherwise.

You are helping him with his farming one day when you collapse.

James isn't happy to find out that you haven't had any of your daily water intake for the day. 

After he is sure you are hydrated, it is punishment time because caring for yourself is also a rule you are supposed to never break.

Your ass is red and seething by the time he's done. Everything is pretty much routine except that you don't sit up to apologize and maybe hug him like usual.

Not even when he pats your ass to signal that he's done.

"H- Hubby?" You sniffle as you use the endearment.

It had been a proud discovery of yours.

James always gave in a little whenever you used it.

"Yes, little mouse?" You bite your lips as your thighs tremble.

Fuck.

"Y- You say we are husband and wife…"

"What about it?"

You bite your lip as you push your ass out and towards him, letting your legs part.

"Then why don't we act like it?" James is good at concealing his emotions and showing restraint.

But he can't help the way his cock hardens at the sight your pretty red thighs reveal to him.

Your perfect pussy is glistening with your creamy arousal, the entrance of your vagina blinking to indicate its need to be filled.

Fuck. 

Though James starts off small and slow with his fingers rubbing your cunt, the night ends with him balls deep into your pussy with his length rearranging your organs.

Whatever was left of you to own for him, he does so after that night.

You cannot go on for long without having some sort of physical proximity to him.

The sex is wild and it's amazing with his stamina. 

It is also instrumental in bringing you two closer than ever. 

James opens up to you slowly, but only when you ask about it.

You had done so in the past as well. 

But since it's genuine curiosity now, he feels comfortable telling you all about it.

It is a lot for you to take in and you almost don't believe him until he shows you some of his belongings from his time.

Things drift on as smoothly for a while as the waves outside your house.

And then comes the ultimate test. 

Which decides the course of your future with him.

He is still asleep one morning when you wake up.

It isn't a usual occurrence. 

But you had introduced him to comics lately and he had been obsessed with them despite claiming that they were too childish and unrealistic. 

While he had a metal arm himself…

You adjust the quilt before getting ready for the day and heading out to make breakfast. 

It is when you realize in panic that there aren't any apples left even though James had asked you to make a grocery list (that started when he started trusting you more) and you had assured him that you had enough apples for a while.

"I am gonna get the hairbrush today, I swear to God!" You mutter to yourself as you rush through the house like a headless chicken. 

Thankfully, your garden had an apple tree so you could save yourself from a breakfast spanking at the very least.

But something standing next to the dock catches your attention before you can the apples you try to budge free from their branches.

A motorboat. 

Before you can decide what you think of it, you are standing next to it on the dock.

It has fuel and a map. The key is in the ignition.

You narrow your eyes and feel your head splitting. 

A lot goes through your mind.

Flashbacks play before your eyes.

It is almost a full circle moment. 

And then you are standing in front of James who is seated on a stool next to the kitchen counter you use for dining. 

His head is lowered as he sips on his coffee and stabs at the breakfast you prepared with a fork.

"Hubby?" Your captor freezes before he slowly looks up at you. 

The blue of his eyes is troubled. He is in disbelief. As though he wasn't expecting you to be standing here.

"There is a boat outside. Do you think someone could be–" 

"You didn't leave." His voice is heavy. 

"What kind of a wife leaves her home?"

You two just stare at each other for a while. 

No words exchanged.

Then, for the first time ever, James gets up and hurriedly closes the distance between you two, enveloping you in his arms before pushing you against the wall behind you.

"I felt so angry and wronged that I thought I could take anything because I deserved it after everything that happened to me but… I love you too much, mouse."

He has never spoken this earnestly before.

"I just realized that I do too."

James kisses you passionately before you wrap yourself around him and close your eyes blissfully. 

He tightens his own arms around you gladly.

He would have hated to end up back on square one with you had you chosen to try and escape. 

The boat would have blown up a small fuse that would have been loud enough for his enhanced hearing if someone– you, were to turn the keys in the ignition.

Yes, he wasn't expecting you to be back but only too soon.

It was a test and you passed. 

As always, James stuck to his ways and rewarded you for being such a good wife. 

By giving you a ring, a new wardrobe and a baby that was the first of many to come.

.

What do you think hAH-

[thestarkinternship]

Mine

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader: One Shot (Smut)

Summary: When you went out for drinks with the team one Friday, you had no idea that this was how the night would end: with your back pressed flush against your bedroom door, a shaking thigh hitched over your boyfriend's shoulder and his pretty mouth daring you to completely let go for everyone to hear.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: no mention of Y/N, profanity, oral sex (female receiving), jealous!Bucky, posessive!Bucky, slight praise kink, slight exhibitionism (people overhearing), hickeys, MINORS DNI!

A/N: This is my first time writing anything like this and i was (still am) very nervous to post it. But I promised myself I'd get back into writing, even if this is how I'm doing it. Thank you @ellemj for encouraging me to do this <3

"What do you think you were playing at tonight, huh?" Bucky's low voice caught your attention the second the pair of you walked through the door to your room. Looking up from the dresser where you had set your purse down, you met his eye. What once were bright blue had now clouded over with something else, something darker. Jealousy.

A lot of things came from having a secret relationship with Bucky. You got to see the sweet, caring side that he showed to no one else. You got to be the one he trusted most, and in turn place your trust in him. Above all else, you got to love each other. Tenderly, passionately, consumingly. And to you, the best part of it was that the other Avengers were none the wiser. All of the love and shared moments were kept just for you, hidden in late night walks and early morning kisses. It was better kept that way, you had always thought. No one was able to interfere with what they didn't know about.

But Bucky's mind thought differently, even if he had never wanted to admit it. He would've shouted from the rooftop of the Avenger's tower how much he loved you if you would've asked him to. He'd wrap a strong arm around your curves in front of everyone and kissed you on the cheek, a proud grin on his face as he got to show off the fact that you were all his. But he'd suppressed how he really wanted to act in favour of keeping you happy. After all, that was what mattered to him most of all.

That was until tonight. Bucky knew he was in trouble from the second you set foot in the place. There you were, your skirt grazing the top of your thighs, your long sleeved black shirt clinging to your curves like an elastic band. His eyes were no longer the only ones on you, and there wasn't a damn thing that he could do about it. Until now that you were back home.

"What are you talking about?" You asked quietly, looking up at him.

"You know damn well what i'm talking about." He took a daring step closer to you.

With a mind of their own, your feet took a hesitant step back, the soft click of your heels dragging across the floorboard in the uncomfortable silence. It wasn't like you were afraid of him, you never had been. But there was a dangerous atmosphere surrounding him that made you nervous.

He closed in on you as you didn't answer. Leaning down, his lips hovered close to your own, leaving just enough space for his thumb to reach up and trace your quivering bottom lip. You'd always thought it felt more personal when he touched you with his right arm. As much as you loved the feel of the cool metal sliding acros your skin, it was like he craved the true feeling of the flushed heat from your skin as it reacted to his touch and his touch only. In between your shaky breaths, his thumb dipped between your parted lips. But you resisted the urge to suck on it in the way he liked until you got to the bottom of what was getting this much of a rise out of him. When he saw that you weren't giving in to him just as he wanted, Bucky's tongue rolled in his own mouth.

Fine, if that's how you were going to be. He thought stubbornly.

He withdrew his thumb from your mouth, dragging down your bottom lip as he leaned in to capture it in a hungry kiss. As confused as you were about the whole thing right now, one thing was certain - when it came to kissing Bucky Barnes, you were certainly not about to complain or ask him to stop. His metal arm flew to your hip, the soft material of your skirt bunching up in his fist. You shivered slightly as the vibranium unintentionally brushed against your bare skin. Still holding onto you, he guided your hips back until you heard the soft thud of your body against the door as your back pressed against it. His right hand slid from the side of your face and to the nape of your neck. Reaching up, Bucky tugged gently at the root of your curls, twirling the soft strands around his rough hand. A soft gasp left your mouth, giving him the opportunity to slide his tongue against yours. You welcomed the feeling, giving in to him completely as the curious thoughts about what had led you to this position slipped from your mind.

And just as quickly as it had began, his lips were gone. They trailed across your trembling jaw and down the soft juncture of your neck. His tight grip released your hair, and your head nearly fell slack against his at the sudden loss of the physical control over you. Bucky tilted your chin back up and to the side, his precise movements giving him all of the access to your exposed throat that he desired. Delicate kisses on your skin turned rough, and his teeth gently nipped at you to earn soft whimpers. He smirked against your skin, rolling it between his full lips even harder.

"Fuck, you're gonna leave a mark…" you whined, "Bucky, you're being too damn rough, you're gonna…"

Bucky finally let go off your skin, but kept dangerously close to your ear instead. There was a split second before he spoke where all you could here was his panting breaths, and that alone kept your heart pounding.

"Maybe I should mark you up," Bucky's voice was ragged, "send you down to breakfast tomorrow morning covered in hickeys that I gave to you, just to remind Steve every time that he sets eyes on your pretty face that you're mine."

Your hazy eyes shot wide open. There it was. That's what this whole ordeal had been about? Bucky was jealous of Steve?

"Wh-what do you mean?" You could barely stutter out.

"Back in the bar tonight."

You swallowed nervously as you cast your mind back over the events of the evening. Being excited to see everyone. Knocking back several drinks over the course of the evening. Bucky smirking as you found any excuse to get close to him without anyone noticing. Nodding politely in your conversation with Steve as you tried to distract yourself from the less than pure thoughts that arose whenever you made eye contact with Bucky. Thinking about how good he looked in that leather jacket. Wondering how long it would be before you'd be dragging him back to the tower and taking it off him- Fuck. You were doing it again.

Bucky's face softened when he realised that you truly had no idea what he was talking at. He chuckled slightly at your obliviousness. How could someone so intelligent miss the careless flirtation thrown her way from her teammate?

"He was flirting with you all night, you know?" Bucky pulled back slightly, his hand moved from your chin to cup the side of your face. His earlier confidence wavered as he suddenly felt a pang of guilt for getting so jealous. "Did you really not see how he was looking at you? I swear, he must've pulled every trick in the book to try and get your attention tonight."

Looking past the jealously, you saw a vulnerability. The fear that he might lose you to someone else. You hummed gently, stroking his cheek as he kept you so close.

"How was I supposed to notice when all of my attenion was on you?" You asked gently.

He smiled at your reassurance. "Really?"

"Of course, James."

"And what about right now? Where is all of your attention?" Bucky tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"Right on you." You murmured, watching him lean in again.

"Exactly where it should be." His hand left your face. It trailed down your neck, and then your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake as it joined his vibranium one at your hips.

And suddenly, his lips picked up where they left off, kissing and teasing your skin. He bent his head down further to your collarbone, and then the crest of your cleavage as it peeked out of your lowcut top. Squirming, your back arched away from the door and into his waiting arms. The subtle movement of your body gave Bucky space to slip his hand up under your skirt to cup your ass. His fingers pressed into the soft flesh as he hooked your leg around his waist, pressing his hips against yours. A soft gasp echoed from your trembling lips as you felt just how hard he was through his jeans.

"Can't say I blame Steve when you look this good, doll. So fucking pretty. And it's all for me.. God, I don't know how much longer I can keep us a secret. Want everyone to know you're mine." He mumbled in quick succession as his lips worked their way back across your skin to capture you in another sweet kiss.

"What if I want that too?" You asked softly, biting your lip.

The corners of his lips tugged into a smirk. "You sure? I thought-"

"I'm tired of hiding us," you interrupted, "i'm yours, and it's time everyone else knew."

"If that's what you want…" He teased, an idea playing out in his mind as he dropped to his knees in front of you.

"Bucky, what are you-" Your own gasp cut you off as you felt him lift you leg, resting it over his shoulder. He kissed your inner thigh and your head fell back against the door.

Oh, that's where he was going with this.

Tracing lazy circles up your thigh, his mouth worked it's way up. Every movement made left you needy and wanting more. Soft moans from you filled the room, and his enhanced hearing heard every one as your thighs cushioned his ears. The sounds you made when he hadn't even touched you yet were embarassing. But you couldn't help yourself. Bucky knew how to push you closer to the edge better than anyone, and he wasn't afraid of showing it. By the time he reached the edge of your underwear, you were done for. Your arousal soaked through the thin material, and you knew he could feel it. Bucky chuckled slightly against the lace fabric, his heavy breath sending waves of pleasure straight to your core. Hips stuttering against his face, you grinded closer in a desperate need for him to do something else. Anything else.

"What's the matter, hm?" He murmured, licking right up to your clit. Even over your underwear, the touch was more than enough to make your body quiver.

"Bucky…" You whined, running your hands through his hair and tugging lightly.

"Someone's awfully needy," He tutted. Looking up at you, Bucky grinned like a devil as your wetness spread across his pink lips, "Who's got you like this?"

But you were so far gone in your own world that you almost didn't hear him. When you didn't immediately answer him, he grew impatient. Bucky's tongue rolled over the flimsy lace once again and your thigh tensed over his shoulder. The stem of your heel dug into his back slightly, drawing him in closer to you. To where you so desperately wanted him to be.

"Tell me." His voice was hoarse and demanding.

Another flick of his tongue. Another cry from your lips. "Y-you… always you."

"Good girl." He paused momentarily, hooking his thumb under the delicate edge of your underwear and ripping it to the side. You gulped nervously at the tearing sound of it as he finally set eyes on your bare core. "And now I want you to let everyone in this damn building hear it."

-

The next morning at breakfast was awkward to say the least. When you walked into the kitchen midmorning, legs still shaking, all eyes were on you.

"Morning." You mumbled, avoiding eye contact as you prayed no one would bring up the night before. You simply wanted them to realise you were dating Bucky now, and leave it at that, not another word mentioned. The few team members already there smiled politely, ignoring the obvious elephant in the room. As you wrapped your hands around a coffee mug, the sleeves of Bucky's sweater encase your hands. The cheeky bastard had insisted that you wear it today 'for good measure', because apparently the way you had screamed his name all night long wasn't enough. It still smelled like his cologne, marking both the jumper and you with traces of him. You kept your head down, hair covering the purple marks on your neck. As the strands brushed over the sensitive skin, you winced.

"Everything okay?" Steve asked quietly, glancing your way.

As you turned to meet his eye, your carefully placed hair shifted. Steve's gaze dropped to your neck, eyes widening at the sight he was met with. Looking over the purple that stained your skin, he swallowed nervously whilst trying to find the right words to say.

Eventually, he cleared his throat and spoke what was on everyone's mind. "So, uh… last night… was that you that we heard with… you guys are…"

"Yeah." Your head snapped up to the doorway of the kitchen. Bucky leaned against the frame, his arms folded across his chest and a smug grin plastered across his face, "She's mine. And don't you ever forget it."

[ozzgin]

A nice character with a yandere split persona. The Yandere persona was born out of the abandonment of the character by a loved one, maybe mom. Did he kill her just so she could stay? Maybe. Only the Yandere persona knows, the character is oblivious, he just knows his mom left him. But he oddly feels ok about it as though the situation has been reconciled... which is weird to him.

Now he meets and falls in love with yn. She must not leave. It's f around and find out

Btw I love you ❤️❤️❤️ The Yokai series is my fave

Oooh, I’ve been thinking of a context for your idea and I somehow got stuck on a serial killer who is unaware of it most of the time. Since you mentioned abandonment and obsession, my mind wandered to some of the typical habits, such as collecting trophies. I’ve also been wanting to try my hand at writing a serial killer, so hopefully it turns out to your liking. (Sending back the love, always a pleasure to see your comments ❤)

Although let me include a little disclaimer, because I am aware many things in the sphere of true crime are problematic: this in no way glorifies or romanticizes serial killers. Just a reminder that this is a work of fiction and all behaviors displayed are for the sake of an interesting story, not to be admired in real life.

Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader

You're temporarily staying with a kind, quiet man renting out a room in the house he inherited. It's just the two of you, and a locked bedroom he claims to be vacant. Yet as night falls, you hear the whispered arguing of a voice you don't recognize. Is anyone else there?

[Part 2] | [More original works]

Content/TW: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror

You must break the pattern today, or the loop with repeat tomorrow

He stares at the locked drawer of the bureau. The clock ticking in the background fades into an irritating buzz, drumming against his ears at irregular intervals like a swarm of insects. Once again, he cannot remember where the key is. Yet he does not feel compelled to search for it. It cannot be anything of significance, he tells himself. Forgotten knick-knacks, perhaps. Despite the apparent lack of curiosity, he is drawn here every morning. He wakes up, carefully folds the sheets, and goes to sit in the office. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Until, at last, the noon hour strikes, and the hallways are flooded with ghastly chimes.

Lately, however, other sounds have taken over the usual silence that envelops the house. The main door rattles faintly before opening with a creak.

“They were out of our bread rolls. I got a baguette instead.”

It’s you.

He stands up, as if startled from deep slumber, and hurries downstairs to greet you. He takes the grocery bags from your hands, flashing a smile of gratitude. Somehow, the idea of another person living here is still foreign to him. He’s gotten so used to the solitude, the quietness of the house. Time stands still when there’s no one else to remind you of it.

You glance up at the tall man, noticing his slight frown.

“Another brain fog?” You ask, worried.

“Don’t mind me. It’s a morning routine at this point”, he jokes. “More importantly, what would you like for breakfast?”

He always cooks for both of you. Initially, you were rather hesitant to go for his offer. You’d been looking for temporary accommodation and stumbled upon his advertisement. A cozy, vintage house the man had inherited from his lamentably departed mother, with one too many spare rooms. He had no need for all the space, he said in his description. You paid him a visit and were taken aback by his appearance. A massive, muscular frame that did not fit the rest of his mannerisms and features. He was soft-spoken, polite, and terribly shy. His eyes reflected the kind of gloom to be expected from anyone in his situation.

A sweet, gentle soul looking for company. On top of that, if you are to be technical, he’s a housemate difficult to compete against. Well-kept, mannered, organized, and thoughtful. He keeps to himself. You’d learned, soon after moving in, that he suffers from the occasional brain fog and memory loss. He goes for walks at odd hours to clear his mind. Enjoys reading in his office, although you’ve caught him just staring into space many times. Terribly inconvenient for the poor lad, you imagine.

The house itself is also not a bad deal by any means. Old fashioned, littered with trinkets and paintings. “My mother liked to collect many things”, he’d told you. It certainly has personality, to put it mildly. Some belongings are more bizarre than others: portraits of faceless people, with features smudged or distorted, doll heads in pompous, feathered collars hanging in clusters across the musty walls. Peculiar, but manageable.

Only at night does it become unsettling.

“Going for a walk?”

You’re curled in one of the armchairs, flipping through a magazine you found. It’s been hours since your little breakfast together and now the sun is beginning to set. The man is buttoning up his coat, standing in the doorframe and gazing at you with a smile.

“Yeah. I’m starting to detach a little. Maybe some fresh air will help.”

It’s nice, he thinks, having you here. He didn’t expect much when he ventured to rent out a room. He just wanted to hear the murmur of life again. Ever since his mother has passed…when did it happen, again? Better yet, how did it happen? Christ, he can’t remember. The last memory he has of her is not something to cherish. She was angrily shoving him out of the way, visibly annoyed by his cries and pleading. “Please don’t leave me”, he kept croaking in a pathetic tone, dragging his knees like a beggar. Then it’s all black. Black, like the cover they kept over her body at the morgue, to hide the mutilated remains. Black, like the tie he struggled to knot before her funeral. At that time, the sheets of her bed were still scattered, as if she never left. He could almost see her there, reflected onto the mirror’s surface – rather dirty as a matter of fact, he should wipe it soon – sitting melancholically on the edge of the mattress.

To think he’d be hearing footsteps again. A soothing voice. Even if it’s temporary, your presence in the house has been a blessing. Even if you must leave eventually. His lips purse involuntarily.

You hear the door close, followed by the key twisting inside the lock. You’re alone now.

With haste, you get up and sprint upstairs. You pull out a hairpin from your pocket and discreetly insert it in the cylinder. Today you find out if the spare bedroom truly is as vacant as your housemate claims.

When you first viewed the house, he mentioned that only this room will remain locked. It was his mother’s and he’d rather not look at it, he said. Let it gather dust, for all he cares.

Only at night, you’ve been hearing someone else’s voice. It didn’t happen immediately. Weeks after you’d moved in, you woke up thirsty and tiptoed on your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. On your return, you were surprised to see dim light coming from underneath the door of the forbidden bedroom. Visitors of your housemate? You hurried back into your bed, not wanting to intrude. But the following night you jolted up from the same mumbled voice. Strange that he’d invite someone over this late - twice in a row! - without saying a word to you. Even more, they were arguing like this. Curiosity got the better of you, so you snuck out and placed your cupped ear against the wall.

“No, no, no, no. I’m telling you, it’s different. She’s different from the others.” A deep, ragged voice retorted angrily.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud, a fist smashing against something, then glass shattering over exasperated, shouted curses. You ran back to your room, baffled. Who on Earth was there? You could feel your heart throbbing inside your chest.

Morning couldn’t come quick enough. You marched over to your housemate, demanding to know who this stranger was. He stared at you, wide eyed and incredulous. “There’s no one else here, dear. Just you and me.” Nonsense. You knew what you heard. You’d been wide awake! He gently placed the back of his hand against your forehead. “Could it be that you’re sick? Weather has been dreadful lately.” You scanned his face with hitched breath. Was he mocking you? Yet his features betrayed no such intent. The man seemed genuinely worried; face twisted in a caring frown.

Then what? A ghost? An intruder that fancied having a chat in a dead woman’s bedroom?

You fiddle with the pin until you hear the click. Finally. Surely whoever has been frequenting the place must’ve left some clues behind. You carefully open the door and peek inside. A broken mirror and some furniture covered in webs. There’s a lingering rusty smell that tickles your nostrils, and soon enough you find the source. Next to the old bed lays a cloth splattered red. On top of it, a leather folder from which scalpels and other surgical tools fell out haphazardly. Blood? Your mouth curls in disgust. You crouch to the floor to inspect the odd items and notice a jar glistening from underneath the bed. You pull it towards you and give it a rattle. Nothing heavy. You lift the jar into the light for a better look and gasp.

Fingernails.

“Oh, I forgot to put those away.”

It’s the same deep voice you’ve been hearing at night. Your stomach drops and you turn, slowly, towards the entrance. Horror is swiftly replaced by confusion once you realize it’s none other than your housemate.

“Y-you’re back from your walk?” You blurt out.

“Walk?” He inquires. “Ah, that’s what he told you.” He steps towards you and lowers himself to your level with a grin.

“Have you come to say hello?” He points towards the tall, shattered mirror. “This is (Y/N), mother. See, I told you she’s stunning. You didn’t believe me.”

He ruffles your hair with a boldness completely unfamiliar.

Nausea overwhelms you and your ears ring in panic. Whatever is happening right now is beyond your understanding.

“I’d like to go to my room now.”

“I recognize that speech all too well. You want to run away.”

Within seconds, he grabs one of the scalpels and points it towards your throat, poking your skin with its cold tip.

“Now, don’t embarrass me in front of her like that. Do you know how hard it is to convince this bitch of anything? I told her you’re not like them, (Y/N). Don’t prove me wrong.”

“Them?” You whisper, lungs devoid of air.

“Come, let’s put this with the others first.” He pockets the scalpel and lifts you up by the hand, tenderly kissing your fingers in the process. “Then we can talk.”

You follow him into the office, and he unlocks one of the desk drawers. Against your better judgment, you stretch over his shoulder and glance inside. ID cards of various women, jewelry, lipsticks. Teeth. Fingernails.

You want to cry.

He nonchalantly dumps the contents of the jar into the drawer and slams it back shut, then throws himself in the chair and pats his thigh, eyeing you. With a sob, you clumsily climb onto his lap.

“Back to our matters. What were you planning on doing?”

“I just wanted to lay in bed.”

He takes out the scalpel and draws a line across your cheek. It stings.

“Don’t lie, (Y/N). You have nothing to gain from being naughty with me.” He coos, placing a kiss over the fresh wound.

“I wanted to run away.” You confess, petrified.

“Good. Do you now understand what happens if you try to run away?”

You briefly look at the drawer and nod.

“I knew you would. You’re so smart.” He strokes your hair fondly. “Not an easy decision to make, mind you. I love you more than anything in this world. Who’d enjoy killing their one and only?”

The man ponders his next words with a hum.

“Don’t count on getting away while he’s awake, either.” He taps his temple and chuckles. “He has no idea and won’t stop you, but I can easily find you again.”

The eggs sizzle in the pan as you stare at your plate, background sounds melting into shapeless static. After a couple more minutes, the man turns off the stove and places the food on the table with a cheerful whistle.

“Eat up!” He encourages you.

You hold onto your fork with faintly trembling hands.

“This might be the last breakfast I cook for you, after all. You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” His last sentence trails off and he smiles, dejected.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could…stay here instead.”

He gazes at you in disbelief.

“Truly? I-…That’d be fantastic.” He laughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his head, a deep red blush spreading over his cheeks. “Do excuse my rudeness. To be honest with you, I’ve grown quite fond of our arrangement. I really do like having you here.”

You return the smile without responding.

“Most exciting news. I’ll get the documents from the office after we eat, so we can draft a new lease.”

“That’d be lovely”, you answer curtly.

“Say, have you by any chance stumbled upon a small key around the house? I wanted to finally unlock the drawer upstairs, but I can’t remember where I could’ve left it.”

The knot in your stomach tightens.

“Not at all.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m sure it’s nothing important, anyways. Old memorabilia, most likely.”

[cherrycolored-punk]

those summer nights

pairings: best friend! Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

author's note: just a little late night thought I needed to write. This is briefly edited so if there's mistakes or spelling errors, I’m sorry! I hope you enjoy it 🖤

w/c: 3.2k

warnings: PURE SMUT 🔥 fingering, oral (reader receiving), a little bit of ass play, unprotected sex, creampie, ass smacking, dirty talk. Sorry if I missed anything!

‼️ THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG, MINORS DNI ‼️

“What are we watching?” You ask as you bounce onto Steve’s bed, sundress riding up your thighs and resting just below the curve of your ass. 

Steve gulps as he stares, resisting the urge to reach out and run his hands beneath the fabric.

You turn to him, a knowing smile spreading across your lips when you catch the initial direction of his gaze before he meets your eyes. His cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink, and he laughs awkwardly before responding.

“You asked to watch A Nightmare on Elm Street, remember?” He states and clears his throat. His gaze shifts to the screen of his TV as the opening trailers play, doing anything to distract himself from you.

“Right,” you nod and turn back toward the screen, the fat of your ass bouncing as you do, and Steve watches from the corner of his eye.

It had gone on like this for weeks, a game of cat and mouse ever since your drunken kiss. A steamy kiss that had plagued your thoughts and took over all your dreams. Every night, you’d wake up in a cold sweat just as Steve finally touched you - his big hands gripping your waist or lost in your hair, and god, you didn’t want them to just be dreams.

But Steve was worried. You were his best friend, the one person who knew all his darkest secrets and had stood by him through it all. He didn’t want to ruin that with a silly crush, and he was worried that he almost had by kissing you the night of his birthday—the alcohol dulling all his usual inhibitions. You’d looked too pretty, all dolled up and dancing with him. Smile infectious, smell intoxicating, just like now. 

He can smell your perfume from where you lay and wants to bury his face in your neck. To run his fingers along your exposed flesh and to hear you sigh just as you had that night. 

Instead, his back remains pressed to the wooden headboard of his bed. Mind not entirely focusing as the movie plays. 

His distance from you kept you distracted, focused on how far he was instead of laying right next to you like usual. 

“Is something wrong?” You turn onto your back and ask him suddenly.

Steve’s eyebrows push together, and he shakes his head.

“W-what do you mean?” He stammers.

“Do I suddenly have cooties or something? Why are you over there?” 

“Just thought you’d be more comfortable,” he waves an absent hand.

“Don’t be silly,” you scoff, throwing the spare pillow in his direction. 

“Come on,” you pat the spot beside you and turn back over. Your eyes settle on the screen, but your mind focuses on his movements.

Steve takes a deep breath and slowly stretches onto his stomach beside you. He can smell the scent of your coconut shampoo, the vanilla body oil you rub on every morning, and his jaw clenches. Your gaze turns to his at that moment.

“Are you watching?” You nudge his shoulder with yours, a playful grin spread across your lips. Steve’s gaze darts to their plump flesh, licking his bottom lip, wanting to taste you again. 

He shakes his head, trying to escape the trance you’d put him in. 

“‘Course I am,” he refocuses his gaze, and the two of you fall into silence as the movie continues to play. Neither of you paying much attention, thoughts on the other. 

“Can we readjust?” You press yourself up and onto your palms to look at him. Almost instinctively, his eyes glance to the peaks of your breasts pushing out of your blue sundress before averting to look anywhere else in the room, and you notice. A devilish smile pulls on your lips.

If he isn’t going to make a move, then you will.

“Uh, y-yeah sure. Where do you want me?” He pushes onto his knees and looks at you to direct him.

“I just want to lay on my side,” you shrug innocently.

“I can lay behind you?” He suggests, just like you wanted him to, and you nod.

He grabs his pillow and moves so you can get comfortable before slotting himself behind you, resting his head in his hands. His hazel eyes dance along your shoulder, and you can feel the heat of his stare. 

“Can we cuddle?” It wasn’t unusual for you two to snuggle closer during a movie, often sharing a blanket or resting your legs on one another if you were nestled on the couch. 

“Yeah,” Steve scoots closer without a second thought and you grab his arm to drape over you. Enjoying the way his chest feels against your back. The feeling of his breath fanning against your skin.

You play with his fingers absently as the movie continues, admiring how long and thick they are. Imagining how they’d feel digging into your skin. Stretching you, and the thought sends tingles that zip straight to your center. You squeeze your thighs together and, in the process, rub your ass against Steve. 

His body stills, breath hitching in his throat at the sensation.

Steve tests the waters and begins to slowly grind against you. When you wiggle your ass against him once more, he slots his fingers between yours and turns your face with his other hand. He stares at you for a moment, measuring your response. Encouraged by how your eyes dance close and your lips purse in anticipation.

He kisses you gently, a little uncertain. Still in disbelief that he’s kissing his best friend. Again. That you're grinding against him eagerly and looking at him with needy eyes when he breaks from the embrace. 

He untangles your clasped hands and drags them up your legs.

Your breath hitches as his hands trail up, up,up, and along your thigh. Under the material of your dress, his mouth latching to your neck and sucking at your pulse. You press your ass into him, the evidence of his growing arousal pressing back into you, and you moan. His fingers play with the edge of your panties, tracing the lace before pushing underneath the fabric. Your breaths grow heavier, chest rising and falling rapidly as you anticipate his touch. 

“Is this okay,” he asks, and you nod.

“More than,” you assure.

His fingers run along your slick folds, circling your clit, and you whimper. 

“Fuck,” he breaths against your neck, a digit pushing against your entrance. You squirm against him, ass cheeks pressing into his cock, desperate for his finger to stretch you just like you’d been imaging. 

He withdraws his hand suddenly and pushes himself on top of you, slotting a leg between your thighs. His mouth was on yours before you could protest the loss of his touch. The kiss wasn’t like the first one you shared. The sweetness replaced with an intense hunger, a need you didn’t know that each of you shared. 

Steve’s hand held your face, the other pressed into the mattress holding his weight above you. Your lips continue to mesh together, want driving you despite the burning in your lungs. 

His teeth graze your bottom lip, pulling gently and swallowing your small moan. Gingerly pushing his tongue against yours, savoring the way yours meets his and slides across his flesh. It felt like you were floating out of your body and experiencing everything with heightened senses all at the same time. 

His hand left your face and traced a trail down your body, pushing the material of your dress up. 

He pulls away, an unspoken question in his eyes, and you nod. 

Steve pulls the pale blue fabric over your head and throws it to the side. His eyes dance over your body, admiring every curve and every dimple. 

Your hands push against the hem of his striped t-shirt, and he helps you pull it over his head. You’d seen his naked chest plenty of times, but now you admired the constellation of freckles that decorated the flesh openly, tracing along and connecting the dots.

He was beautiful, and your heart was nearly hammering out of your chest. 

You were almost naked in Steve Harrington’s room, lying below him in just your bra and underwear. It was a scene you’d daydreamed about since you were in eleventh grade, but nothing could compare to how his warm body felt against yours. 

“Can I take this off?” He whispers, fingers playing with the strap of your white lace bra. You nod, and slowly he pushes both straps down—one with his hand, the other with his teeth. 

The cold air greets your supple flesh, creating goosebumps along your skin and making your nipples perk. Steve’s jaw goes slack as he stares and works his hands around your back to unclasp the material, throwing it to the other side of the room absently. 

Steve’s hand traces a line to your breast, fingers pinching your nipples before he cups it fully in his large grasp. You hum as he massages your heavy flesh, eyebrows pushing together as he plays with your nipples. 

He bends his head down, running his warm tongue against the other. 

“Oh,” you moan, absently grinding against his thigh, urging him on. 

He continues to flick and suck as your hands curl in his hair. Soaking through your panties and creating a spot on his jeans. Their rough material creates just the right amount of friction against your clit. 

Steve groans against your breast before releasing it, trailing kisses down your sternum and to the tops of your panties. His fingers hook around the elastic, pulling the material down as he eyes you.

You lift your hips to help him, fingers digging into his wrists as you do and watch as he discards them over his shoulder. He kisses up your legs, sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh of your thighs until he reaches your sex. 

Your eyes closed in anticipation, fingers knotted in his hair. 

He drags a line along your folds with the soft pad of his tongue, moaning when he tastes your arousal.

“Fuck, baby, have you always been this sweet?” His warm breath fans against your wet heat. 

You could only whimper in response.

Steve uses a hand to spread your lips, tongue darting against your bundle of nerves and down again. Savoring the sweet metallic taste of your cunt. You twitch in response, your grip tightening in his hair.

His tongue juts in and out of your sopping hole, creating a lewd noise that fills the air. Your moans escape in quick succession, and it feels like you can’t breathe. 

“Steve.”

The way you mewl his name only seems to egg him on. He buries his face deeper into your pussy, his nose pressing against your clit as he continues to eat you out. You hold him to you, grinding yourself against him and nearing the edge of your release.

You whine as he pulls away and glance down at him. His gaze meets yours, brown eyes nearly black and blown with lust. Your arousal glistens against his lips and along his chin. He runs a finger along you collecting your slick before pressing into your entrance. He allows you to adjust to the stretch before he begins to push out and in, adding another finger as he increases his speed. Steve was hitting a spot you hadn’t before, his longer fingers reaching where your smaller ones hadn’t been able to. 

Your moans grow louder, and your entire body stills, boobs bouncing as he fingers you. He watches you, his dick throbbing as they press against the tight material of his jeans, and he begins to grind against his mattress in search of his release. 

“I-I’m close, Steve,” you stammer, bucking against him when his fingers curl inside you and his tongue darts against your clit. 

Every nerve in your body felt like it was alive, your blood thrumming in your veins. Vision turning white. 

Steve sucks your clit, and the rubber band inside you snaps. Your cunt clenches around his fingers as the orgasm pulses through your body.

“Oh my god-” you keen, hips beginning to lift from the mattress. 

He presses his free arm against your waist, holding you there as you practically ride his face. Pussy pulsating with your climax.

Steve releases your hips as you sink back into the mattress, slowly pulling his fingers out of you. Digits sticky with your release. 

You watch with an open mouth as he licks your come from each of his fingers, groaning as he tastes you again. He turns and grips your hips with both hands as he kisses his way back up your body, over the soft of your stomach and chest, until he reaches your lips. 

His mouth was on yours with a new intensity, and you can still taste yourself on his tongue as it pushes at the seam of your lips. 

And it was no longer slow, no longer hesitant. You reach your hands between your bodies and push at the button of his jeans, working them off of him and only pulling away from each other so he can slide them off along with his boxers. He kicks them off the bed, the length of his dick pressing against your stomach. It was bigger and thicker than you’d imagined - than you’d ever had experience with.

His gaze dances between yours as he reaches between your bodies and lines himself up with your entrance. 

You nod at him, eyebrows marrying in the middle when you feel the stretch of his tip as he pushes into you. 

The stretch is delicious, making your jaw hang slack as the entire length of his cock settles inside you. Steve’s breath is heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly as your walls wrap around him. 

Your nails dig into his biceps, creating half-moons along his freckled skin. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, not moving. Allowing you to adjust to his size. 

He curves his head and presses kisses along your jaw before dragging his hips back and slowly pushing into you again. 

You moan at the sensation, your pussy already sensitive. 

Slowly, he picks up his pace. Mouth sucking a bruise into your neck. 

Your tits bounce against his chest, perked nipples stimulated by the patch of his hair on his chest.

“Holy shit, Steve,” you groan his name. His grip on your thigh grows tighter as his hips snap into you. 

“Baby,” he moans, warm breath fanning against you. He was close, but he wasn’t ready for it to be over. 

You whine as he pulls out of you suddenly, flipping you onto your stomach and slapping your ass. 

Without being told, you get onto all fours wiggling your ass in the air and anticipating the feel of his hands on them. 

“You’re so pretty, honey,” he states, voice dripping with admiration before he slaps the flesh again. Mesmerized by the bounce of your cheeks, he grips the dough of them, spreading them apart. 

His tongue brushes against clit, following your seam up past your entrance until it is circling the rim of your ass. You gasp, hips jerking beneath him. 

“Is this okay?” He asks, resting his chin against you. 

“Yes,” you respond breathlessly, needy to feel him again. 

His fingers dig deeper into your skin as his tongue darts against you. Your muscles are taut, every inch of you on alert as the new sensation crashes over you. 

Steve groans against you, kissing over the peaks of your ass before straightening his spine and dragging his cock along your folds. 

Your hands twist in the comforter, back arching and ass pushing against him. Aching to wrap around him.

His tip pushes inside of your entrance, and you stretch over him once more, eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

He isn’t slow this time, instead gripping your hips and slamming his cock inside you at a brutal pace. One that makes your eyes begin to water as he hits your spongy center. The spot that has your toes curling in ecstasy, his name on your lips like a prayer.

“Steve, Steve, Steve,” you chant as you turn to face him, tits bouncing with each jut of hips. 

Your pussy squelches around him, tightening as you climb to the peak of your next climax. 

Each rut of his hips sends you closer to the edge. 

“Are you going to come for me, baby?” He questions between pants, and you can only moan in response.

He slaps your ass and grips your cheek.

“I need to hear you,” he moans your name as he continues to fuck you, his pace not slowing but his hips stuttering.

“I’m going to come, Steve,” your words leave your lips in a whine. 

Your vision becomes spotty, and you come undone once more. Your moans are loud and drawn out. Every inch of your skin blushing, goosebumps sprouting. The grip you hold on the comforter loosens as your cunt pulses against his cock, and it’s more than Steve can take. He grips your hips, teeth marring his bottom lip as he concentrates on not finishing inside you.

“Where do you want it?” He asks between grunts.

“Inside, please,” you beg. Pussy gripping him tighter as you imagine the way his hot release will feel.

“Oh, shit,” he groans, and his body stills as his hips sputter against your ass. 

His warm come fills you, releasing in hot spurts and felt against your sensitive walls causing you to moan. 

Steve’s head is thrown back as he continues to paint your walls until he is entirely spent, jaw clenched and chest a bright red from the intensity of his orgasm. 

He watches you with hooded eyes as he slowly pulls his softening dick from inside of you. The loss of it causes you to whine. The mix of his and your come dripping out of you. 

“You’re a mess, baby,” he slaps your ass again. Softer. Playful. Before kissing where he’d marked. 

“Let me get you cleaned up,” he pushes off the mattress and walks to the adjoining bathroom. You remain in the same position, ass in the air and head still in the clouds. Brain mush after he fucked you dumb. 

He smiles at you when he returns, an affectionate glimmer in his gaze highlighted by the light of the TV. You jolt as he drags the warm cloth against your sensitive skin. He gently cleans you, tossing the washcloth to the ground as he wraps his arms around you and brings you to his chest as he joins you on the bed.

“Wow,” it’s all you can manage, and he chuckles. 

“Yeah,” he agrees and presses a kiss to your hairline.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” you admit unabashed and look at his lips. He traces his nose along yours, lips hovering over your own.

“We could’ve done that a long time ago?” He jokes, his breathy laugh felt against your mouth, and you nod. 

“Should’ve made a move, Harrington,” you tease, and his lips press to yours. Slower, sweeter, and savoring every curve of them. 

“Does that count?” He asks as he pulls away, his lips smacking softly as he does, and you nod. 

Gaze trained on how his smile curves, committing the look in his eyes and the press of his chest against yours to memory. 

[n0thingbutlov3]

need you now | 2 |

in which readers true feelings are revealed.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings/tags: angst again (whoops) miscommunication (it’s short dw) fluff, reader is hungover lol, spencer is handsomely disheveled (moans) mentions of blueberry muffins being readers favourite type of muffin (sorry for not being vague but also if you don’t like blueberry muffins??? why) some tears, some swearing, some kissing, suggestiveness at the end of you squint (WHOOPS *evil smirk*) no use of y/n!! wc: 2.1k a/n: call me slim shady because i am back!!! i procrastinated writing this because i was scared everyone was secretly judging my writing and actually hated it and a second part would be a stupid idea but THEN i realised that was a little bit silly so im here B) part one got over 1000 notes (INSANE) all the support has been so so lovely—every note, reblog, and comment means the world to me, thank you!! i hope this part is okayy, feedback is always appreciated :) i hope you enjoy it you choose to read!!! <3 p.s kissing scenes are so difficult to write, i think i done absolutely awful!!!so let’s ignore that…. if you haven’t already and you’d like to, you can read part one here!

Your eyelids twitched as the early morning sun filtered through your bedroom. What was usually a calming wake-up call now felt like being blinded.

You burrowed your face into your pillow, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to dull the throbbing in your head. This is why you didn’t drink often.

Asides from the obvious headache and nausea, you always seemed to wake up with a sense of dread; ‘hangxiety’—a friend had called it once. It was creeping up on you now, and even though you weren’t sure exactly what you had done, you knew it was bad. You flipped onto your back, fixing your gaze to the ceiling as if it could tell you what irreparable mistakes you had made last night.

It couldn’t, of course. The only thing you had realised is that you should probably coat it in a new layer of paint soon.

“How’re you feeling?”

You shot up, eyes widening at the sight of a man in your doorway. A man whose sleepy voice and disheveled hair threatened to make you melt, but a man who should not be in your doorway, nonetheless; Spencer.

Your brain was quick to supply you with information then, your memory coming back in hazy remnants. You were upset so you…called Spencer for the first time in months. Yikes. He didn’t answer so you turned to a bottle of high end whiskey instead—yikes, again—and passed out on your couch, only to wake up to your ex-boyfriend in your apartment. Cue more sobbing, a pathetic attempt at asking—no, more like begging—him to get back together with you, and that was it. Well, mostly. There was also the promise of discussing your breakdown in the morning. The morning, which was now.

What the fuck.

“Like I’ve been napalmed.” You weren’t sure you were just referring to your raging hangover.

That prompted a raspy kind of chuckle from him and Jesus Christ—you really shouldn’t have called, because it was going to be infinitely harder to watch him leave when he inevitably told you you were sad loser who needed to get a grip and move on—except, he’d be a lot nicer than that, wouldn’t he? Because even if things were over between you, he was still the sweetest person you had ever met and he’d never say anything to intentionally hurt you. Maybe things would be easier if he did. If he wasn’t so sickeningly perfect—if he just insulted you in the way you were certain you deserved, then maybe you’d get over him quicker.

“So, I-ah-uber’d breakfast—“

Your inner turmoil came to a screeching halt at those words.

“You uber’d? You?”

He scoffed, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

“The team’s been very into it lately and I always finish my paperwork first so it only makes sense that I—stop laughing! I can uber!”

“Sorry! I just can’t imagine the great Doctor Reid stooping to the levels of a fast food delivery app. Do you ever order to the wrong place?”

“No.” he said, unconvincingly. “Well, only once—“

You were laughing again.

He whined, turning on his heel.

“Just take your aspirin and hurry up!” He grumbled petulantly as he left the room, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

After a quick freshen up and taking the pills placed on your bedside table—as per his request—you padded through to the living room, joining Spencer on the couch.

You gasped delightedly as he pulled out muffins from a brown paper bag. To be more specific, blueberry muffins; your favourite.

“Did you know that blueberries are good for fighting hangovers? They’re rich in vitamin C, which helps break down and metabolise blood alcohol. Muffins too, they—what? Do I have something on my face—“

“No! No, sorry,” You had been caught staring—ogling, more like. “I just missed…that.”

��What? My incessant rambling?” He was joking, but you could hear the insecure twinge in his voice—the one that told him he was too much. Over the course of your relationship, you had showed him that he didn’t have to think like that around you—that he was never too much; he was perfect in your eyes. You hated that he doubted that now.

“Yes, actually.” You tried to keep your tone light, unserious. But there was nothing unserious about just how badly you had missed the man sitting beside you. How you could hear his voice in your mind when you drove late at night, giving you statistics on accidents. Or how on other late nights, you swore you could feel his hands ghosting over your skin—only to find out it was your imagination.

If he could see how truthful you were being, he didn’t acknowledge it, turning his attention back to the coffee table.

“I’ll, um, save you the facts on how beneficial coffee is for hangovers, anyway.” He smiled awkwardly, shuffling a paper coffee cup to where your muffin sat.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, “for the coffee, not the withholding of information—i’m a real fiend for coffee facts…especially when they’re related to curing hangovers!” You said a little too cheerily, trying to alleviate the awkward tension. Although, that only seemed to make it worse.

Spencer just huffed out a little laugh in response, taking the wrapper off of his muffin.

The rest of breakfast went by in silence. Not the comfortable silence you always seemed to have with Spencer—when you were together, you reminded yourself—but a strained one. The kind of silence that occurs when there’s something left unsaid, and you’re just waiting for someone to spit it out.

Spencer broke first.

“So we should probably talk…about last night.”

You finished the remainder of your coffee, setting the empty cup down before turning your whole body to Spencer, tucking your legs up underneath you.

“Right, yeah…”

A beat passed, Spencer’s eyes darting around your face—assessing you.

For someone who had imagined this conversation in your mind countless times, you certainly weren’t saying much.

“I—uh…was very drunk.”

Something in him shifted, like he was putting up imaginary walls.

“So you didn’t mean…any of it?” His brow furrowed, his nose twitching slightly.

“Well no, but I—“ You what? Meant every word you said and more? You couldn’t just say that. You had just got a small part of Spencer back and you didn’t want to ruin it by coming on too strong.

He waited for you to add something, anything, to show him that maybe, maybe there was a tiny part of you that still wanted him as badly as he wanted you. But you didn’t. You just sat there, playing with the fabric of your—his—t-shirt.

He couldn’t do it.

He was so tired of loving people only for them to leave like he had meant nothing to them. Was that all he was to you? Someone you could call when your inhibitions were lowered, looking for comfort? He would do anything to be back in your life again, but he couldn’t be a person of convenience; someone you only wanted when you were lonely.

He ran a hand through his hair, swallowing down the tightness in his throat.

“You were drunk and you got carried away, I get it. I think I better go though—“

“What? No, I—“ You bobbed your mouth like a fish, trying to find the words necessary to keep him here. There were too many of them and yet none at all. None except for three. Three words that you wished you had the courage to say months ago, or weeks ago, or last night. But you never claimed to be a courageous person, and you weren’t about to spill your heart out again only for it to end up in rejection.

Spencer stood, making his way to your bedroom to grab his shoes and coat. He didn’t care about his other clothes, he could buy more—he just needed out before he broke.

You sat dumbfounded on the couch, willing yourself to do something, say something. It was like you were frozen. And you stayed frozen. As Spencer shuffled around your bedroom, as he returned to the living room—completely avoiding your gaze—even as he searched for his keys. You hadn’t realised he had driven over here. He didn’t usually drive unless he had to get somewhere urgently. Were you someone worth seeing urgently to him?

He picked up his keys, heading for your door and only then did you realise how dire the situation was. If he left now you weren’t sure he would ever come back.

“No—wait, Spencer!” You stammered, lunging off the couch to try and stop him. He unlocked the door, moving to leave when you grabbed onto his jacket sleeve.

“Please don’t—I love you!”

“What?”

He turned to face you and you noticed just how wrecked he looked—not at all dissimilar from how you had for the last few months. Had he looked like that the whole time?

You must’ve been staring because when you came back to your senses he was calling your name exasperatedly.

“Do you mean it?”

You were fed up living like this; harbouring so much love for someone and not being able to express it. Even if he didn’t love you back, even if he was over you, you couldn’t go another moment without at least telling him how you felt.

“Yes,” you heaved, “I love you—I never stopped loving you, I was just…” You knitted your brows together, unsure how to phrase what you were feeling.

“I’ve never loved someone the way I love you and that’s…terrifying. I thought the way I felt was wrong, like—when you were on cases, I missed you so much, more than I thought humanely possible and—well, I never wanted to be the kind of girl to base her happiness on another person because that’s how you get hurt. So, I thought the only way to combat that was by…distancing myself. I thought if you weren’t in my life anymore then I’d be able to get a grip and become more independent—“ you huffed, trying to stop the wobble of your voice. “but it didn’t work, because then I was just missing you twice as much, except I couldn’t see you at all—“

“You could’ve answered my messages, we could’ve—“

“So you could return your key? Then things would actually be over. Why do you think I ignored your messages?”

“Why do you think I kept messaging? Angel, I was never going to return that key—at least not willingly—I just wanted to see you, to see if you were doing just as horribly without me as I was without you. You know, I couldn’t even focus on cases—Hotch even suggested I take some time off.”

You frowned, your voice impossibly small. “I’m sorry.”

He took a step toward you, cupping your cheeks in his hands.

“Don’t apologise, you were dealing with your emotions in the best way you knew how. I just wish…” he swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I wish I hadn’t let you go so easily.”

His eyes were shining and—God, you wished you could take it all back. All the pain you had caused him, caused yourself, just because you were too scared to talk about your feelings.

“I wish I hadn’t left.” You blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes. “Y’know, I read a book on astrophysics because it reminded me of you. I didn’t understand any of it but I couldn’t put it down. I still—“ you let out a watery chuckle. “still have it in my bedroom somewhere.”

Spencer smiled, swiping under your eye at a tear that must’ve escaped.

“Yeah? Maybe I can read it to you—help you understand it.”

“I’d like that.”

You didn't know much about celestial bodies or the ultimate fate of the universe, but you could've sworn you'd seen the stars pictured in that book in Spencer’s eyes when he looked at you.

“Say it again.” He mumbled, tilting his head down so that your faces were just inches apart.

“I love you.”

And then his lips were on yours, impossibly soft and everything you had been missing since you had broken up. He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed and all you could do was sigh into him because you knew the feeling.

He leaned back all too soon, resting his forehead against yours.

“Well, I should probably go—“ He smirked, but you cut him off before he could continue his teasing.

“You’re not funny.”

He narrowed his eyes, sucking his teeth.

“I don’t know, I—“

You pressed a firm hand on his chest, bunching the cotton of his t-shirt into a fist.

“Stop. Stay—we can have a pyjama day and maybe for dinner, you can show me just how tech savvy you’ve become and uber us some food—“

He rolled his eyes, kicking the door shut before pressing his lips to yours with more force this time.

“Stop talking.”

[emphistic]

Interlude

A/N: did i write this in half an hour? yes. am i crazy? of course.

"Ah ah ah. I never said you could leave yet."

You immediately stopped in your tracks upon hearing a familiar deep, raspy voice at your back, coming from the confines of your shared bed.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

You whipped your head around, and were met with a set of half-lidded eyes in a shade of deep red. Their owner was propped up on one elbow atop the messy sheets, yawning loudly before running his long fingers through his unruly locks.

Sukuna was never a morning person, and his shifts always started later in the afternoon, so he always used it to his advantage.

Blinking once, twice, thrice, as you nervously averted your gaze away from your very enticing boyfriend, who only continued to stare at you sleepily.

The thought of going back to lay in your comfortable, warm bed was already something you wanted to do terribly, but adding Sukuna into the mix, too? This was like trying to drain the sea.

Merely one look at the pink-haired man, who was only covered waist-down by the blankets on his legs, was enough to pull you back beneath the covers and curl into his side.

However, you had already called sick two times in only a fortnight, and those bills were not going to pay themselves.

Unfortunately for you, or not unfortunately, you and Sukuna had been over this many times. Sukuna always told you, "I don't understand why you keep going back to that shitty job anyway. Just let me take care of you back in my place, I provide substantially for the both of us, anyway."

And besides, there really wasn't a way out for you no matter what.

Sukuna had had so many clients back-to-back lately, that he was forced to stay at the tattoo shop for nights on end. On top of that, Choso was unavailable for God knows why, so Sukuna had to fill in for him as well. And if that wasn't enough, sessions would take longer than expected because clients just wouldn't stop flirting with him, moving or twitching, accidentally messing up his work, talking so obnoxiously to the point Sukuna couldn't even pay attention, etc.

Only recently — just the night before, he was finally granted the chance to come home to you.

And you best believe he was going to spend every hour, minute, and second reminding you that you were his, and his only.

Not even your job's employee, apparently. Sorry not sorry.

But, it's not like you wanted to leave him anyway. You had missed Sukuna as much as he had missed you, if not more.

Phone calls while he was on break, sending memes through your text messages, playing together on Game Pigeon, FaceTimes while eating lunch together, were your only escapes from the sad, miserable Adult Life, into just Sukuna and You World.

"Baby, you know I have to. But I'll be back before you know it, okay? And besides, you need the free time. They've been working you nonstop—"

"I'm fine, not even tired. Don't you dare worry your pretty little head about me. As for free time . . ," Sukuna's held a mischievous glint to them, "how about you spend my free time with me?"

You bit your lip, in contemplation. Although you knew, clear as day, what would happen in the end despite everything.

Deciding to make a run for it, you swung your legs over the bed and planted your bare feet on the freezing-cold floor of your apartment. But before you could even stand up, a thick arm swiftly made its way around your waist and pulled you back to meet a hard, bare chest.

Sukuna was now sitting up.

You lightly gasped, as he brought his lips to your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin.

"Don't think you can run away from me just yet, doll. I haven't seen you in days, and I'm not going to be apart from you for another second."

You squirmed in his grasp, but when you realized his strong hold around your middle wasn't going to let up any time soon, you sighed, and, left with no choice, only slumped back against his chest.

Sukuna grinned, victorious, once again.

The rays of the early sun filtered through the cheap window blinds, and you fluttered your eyelashes, squinting to hide away from the inevitable.

"Yeahh," Sukuna laughed, "that's right, princess. Just listen to me from now on."

You frowned, turning your head around to narrow your eyes at Sukuna.

"Now, what can we do with all this free time? I'm thinking we should try something new." Sukuna raised a brow teasingly, twisting your body around and settling you onto his lap with your thighs on either side of his.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, mister. I'm only staying for five more minutes," you crossed your arms.

Sukuna placed both of his large hands on your hips; it seemed like that was their default resting spot. Every chance he got, they would always end up there. No matter the setting or occasion.

Sukuna let out a deep laugh, "We'll see about that."

-

"Five minutes? You said? Either way, I don't think you're even able to move your legs at this point and walk out of this room."

"S'kuna, you're—ngh—not funny!" Your nipples hardened, and rubbed raw against the material of your shirt.

You braced yourself by placing both hands on the headboard, but it didn't look like anything could help stable you now.

Sukuna licked a stripe up your dampening clit.

Your situation wasn't looking too good. It didn't help that your asshole of a boss just had to call you right then and there.

[pupkashi]

Ok so can i request something?

Im currently on my period and i feel my insides tearing apart. Im having rough months cause my roomate who was also my best friend got in a fight with me and blamed me for everything (that wasn't even my fault) and my final term exams are here as well :((( imagine all the pressure

Can i get something soft with toru?my period is killing me and I would KILL to have this man with me rn

a/n: me when a bad bitch tells me to write comforting fluff 🫡 in all seriousness i hope this helps you even a smidge my beloved !!! i know how terrible and hurtful fights with friends can be from personal experience and i hope things get resolved for you soon <3 i love u so so so much you sweet summer child I’m so proud of you & best of luck on exams !

masterlist

sundays are your favorite days, you’ve decided.

sunday means you’ll have a warm, lanky, white haired sorcerer asleep next to you when you wake up. his arms tightly wrapped around your torso with his over grown hair tickling the back of your neck.

it’s sunday morning, and satoru is wrapped around you like a koala bear. there’s soft snores coming from the tired sorcerer, making you wonder what time he got home last night. the clock on the nightstand reads 7:42 am, making you smile. you don’t move or try to turn to face your lover, opting instead for reveling in his warm embrace, letting your eyes close softly and listening to his steady breathing.

satoru is awake by the time you wake up again, he’s drawing light circles on your bare arms. you turn around slowly, finding him laying on his side propped up on one elbow with his head in his hand. part of his hair is spiked up every which way, the other completely flat and there’s stray strands of hair all over his forehead.

“morning sweetheart” he whispers, smiling softly as he wipes away an eyelash from your cheek. the pad of his thumb brushes against your cheek, his hands are a bit calloused and rough, but you don’t care. you let your eyes close at the feeling, smiling before fluttering them open again.

“g’morning toru” you whisper back, smiling as he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. “d’you get back late last night?” he nods.

“first years had more trouble than i thought they would” he adds on, “you didn’t wait up did you?” there’s a pout on his lips when he sees you nodding.

“not too long though don’t worry” you assure him, flopping onto your back and staring at the ceiling, “knew youd be upset if you found me awake when you got home.” satoru smiles, you had him all figured out and he loved it.

“can’t have my baby losing sleep over me, now can i?” his voice is still raspy and deeper than usual, it makes your stomach flip and your heart stutter.

satoru moves around until he’s got his head resting on your chest, closing his eyes when your fingers find purchase in his hair. you both stay quiet for a bit, your fingers running through his hair and satoru letting his body fully relax under your touch.

“missed you” he mumbles, not opening his eyes. “wish everyday could be like this” the sigh that leaves his lips makes you frown a bit.

“don’t worry angel boy, one day it will be” you assure him, continuing to play with his hair, smiling when you form it into a giant spike before combing it down again. “for now, you wanna make breakfast?”

the sorcerer hums in agreement, standing up and stretching before the two of you head to the restroom, grabbing your respective toothbrushes.

“any plans today?” satoru asks, words jumbled and muffled thanks to the toothbrush in his mouth, but you understand him perfectly. you shake your head ‘no’ the two of you spitting and rinsing your mouths before heading to the kitchen.

there was only one way satoru would eat his veggies, and it’s if you made them in his eggs. while you chopped up some bell peppers, mushrooms and rinsed spinach, satoru put coffee to brew. small talk filling the space of the kitchen as you two slowly woke up.

it’s not long before satoru was wrapping his arms around your waist, letting his head rest on your shoulder as he watched you cook the eggs. he’s placing soft kisses on your neck, smiling when he hears your giggles.

“your hair tickles” you laugh, making no attempt at pushing him off you.

“should i get a trim?” he asks you, laughing when you immediately respond with a quick ‘no!’

before long satoru has two coffees on the dining table, accompanied by two plates of food that you set down moments later. it’s peaceful as the two of you talk, hearing the world outside wake up, cars going up and down the street every five, ten minutes and birds singing sweetly by the bird feeder you’d set up with satoru not long ago.

“think a dove is setting up a nest in the garden” you smile, watching as your lover immediately looks up from his food excitedly.

“really? i told you we should’ve gotten the bird houses!” his eyes are gleaming as he stares out the window, smiling at the sight of two doves at the bird feeder. me and you, he thinks, staying quiet so he could continue to listen to you tell him of the new season premiere tonight.

the day passes slowly, with you two lounging on the couch watching an episode of whatever show you two had started during the week before getting ready for the grocery store.

satoru takes grocery shopping you very seriously, writing down every item you say on a paper list as you check the pantry and fridge. soon enough the two of you are on your way to the store, satoru grabbing a shopping cart and following you as you pick out everything.

he does make himself useful by getting whatever you tell him to, smiling widely when you approve of his fruit picks and sets them in the cart gently. he does all of the heavy lifting, carrying all your groceries in the house in one trip, not even breaking a sweat as he softly sets them down.

the two of you work harmoniously putting everything away, never once bumping into each other and easily understanding what the other wants without having to say a word.

“should we do takeout tonight?” he asks, looking down at you. the two of you freshly showered and now on the couch. your head in his lap as you both wait for the new episode of your show to premiere.

“yeah, what’d you have in mind?” you ask. 20 minutes later the two of you are eating dinner, drinking a bottle of wine satoru picked up on his way back home.

it seems unreal to satoru. being home. no matter how many weekends he spends with you, they all seem to be like a dream. he doesn’t care much for the show on tv, but he still sits with you and watches it for the full hour, listening intently to anything you had to say.

its dark out, and to both you and satoru’s dismay sunday has come and gone all too quickly. you’re both back in bed, in each others warm embrace. conversation topics come and go quickly, the two of you laughing loudly at any little thing.

“oh my god it’s already two in the morning” you gasp, looking at your lover with a shocked expression, “how do we always manage to talk all night?” satoru laughs as you try to pull the blanket over yourself, as if that would instantly make you fall asleep.

“time flies when you’re with the love of your life” he sing songs, joining you under the blanket and looking at you with fond eyes.

“that’s not how that goes” you tease, watching as he rolled his eyes, muttering a ‘come here’ before getting you back in his arms, peppering kisses over your face as you giggle.

“toru you have to be up early!” you scold, the smile on your face is a juxtaposition to your words. and you can’t help but smack him softly when he points it out.

“alright, alright” he sighs, turning off the dim lights and leaving a mixture of moonlight and streetlights illuminating the room. “let’s go to sleep then.”

it doesn’t take long to get cozy, the weeks exhaustion still prominent as you two begin to doze off quickly. satoru tries to keep talking, but his words don’t make much sense as they’re muffled against the top of your head.

“g’night toru, i love you” you whisper, holding him a bit tighter as he replies, already half asleep.

“g’night sweetheart, i love you.”

sunday ends the same way it began. with satoru wrapped around you like a koala, his streaky breathing lulling you to sleep. his body radiating warmth that makes you feel more sleepy. you can hear his soft snores after a couple minutes, it makes you smile.

you don’t dwell on the fact that come tomorrow morning, his side of the bed will be cold and you’ll have to go back to your routine. instead you sigh happily, letting yourself enjoy your lovers company on your favorite day of the week.

taglist (send an ask to be added): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi @kentocalls @sadmonke

[pin-k-ink]

kind of a weird request but can you write something about kageyama having a nursing kink ? kinda like an oral fixation but not really.

like, him having the need to just have his mouth on the reader’s boob in a non sexual way, you know ??

feel free to ignore this if it’s too weird 😭🙏

quintessence // kageyama tobio

tw ⇢ clingy and needy!kageyama, mentions of anxiety, it’s fucking fluffy, biting/marking, non sexual intimacy, nursing kink, implied lactation but it’s not explicitly stated

wc ⇢ 2k

a/n: i hope i did it right 💀

You stirred awake to the now-familiar sensation of Kageyama nuzzling into your cleavage, his strong arms banded around your waist as he pulled you flush against his muscular frame. Blinking blearily, you glanced at the clock. 3:14 AM. Right on schedule.

Over the past week, your boyfriend had developed a new nighttime ritual - one that involved using your breasts as his own personal pillows. He refused to settle down to sleep unless his face was firmly planted in your chest, nose nestled snugly between the soft mounds.

Not that you were complaining. There was something undeniably cute about the way he sought comfort in your embrace, his usually stern features relaxing ever so slightly as he burrowed into your warmth.

But even as Kageyama's breath fanned across your skin in deep, even puffs, you couldn't help but notice the furrow between his brows, the downward pull of his lips. He looked like a petulant child who'd been denied his favorite toy, even as he motorboated your chest in his sleep.

Stifling a fond snort, you gently combed your fingers through his dark hair, nails lightly scratching at his scalp in the way you knew he secretly loved.

"What's going on in that head of yours, Tobio?" you murmured softly. "You've been extra grumpy lately, even with the deluxe boob pillow treatment."

Kageyama grumbled something unintelligible into your cleavage, his arms tightening fractionally around your waist. Tilting his head, he shot you a bleary-eyed scowl.

"'M not grumpy," he mumbled petulantly. As if to illustrate his point, he promptly shoved his face back into your chest, rubbing his cheek against the soft swell of your breast in a move that was somehow both adorable and bratty.

You bit back a smile, knowing better than to push the issue when he got like this. Kageyama had never been one for talking about his feelings - getting him to open up was like trying to pry open a particularly stubborn clam.

"Alright, Mr. Not Grumpy," you teased lightly. "But you know you can always talk to me if something's bothering you, right? I'm here for you, no matter what."

Kageyama's only response was a muffled "Mmpf" as he burrowed impossibly deeper into your cleavage. Within moments, his breathing had evened out once more, the tension slowly leaching from his muscles as sleep reclaimed him.

You sighed softly, continuing your gentle ministrations through his hair as you let your own eyes drift shut. Kageyama might be a prickly, emotionally constipated handful at times, but he was your handful. And if motorboating your tits was what he needed to navigate whatever was bothering him, well...

There were certainly worse ways to spend your nights.

With that thought, you let yourself slip back into slumber, content to be your grumpy boyfriend's oversized teddy bear for the foreseeable future. He'd talk to you when he was ready.

Over the next few nights, Kageyama's restlessness seemed to intensify. He tossed and turned in his sleep, his brow furrowed and jaw clenched even as he clung to you like a lifeline. And his nightly nuzzling sessions were becoming increasingly...aggressive.

It started with little nips along the swell of your breasts - barely-there grazes of teeth that could almost be mistaken for accidental. But then you'd woken one morning to find a smattering of faint red marks blooming across your chest, telltale evidence of Kageyama's midnight mouthing.

At first, you'd written it off as an unconscious quirk, a manifestation of whatever stress was plaguing him. But as the love bites grew darker and more frequent, you couldn't help but wonder if there was something more to his fixation.

"Tobio," you murmured one night, hissing softly as he latched onto a particularly sensitive spot just above your left nipple. "Easy, baby. That's gonna leave a mark."

Kageyama merely grunted, his arms tightening possessively around your waist as he continued his ministrations. A muffled groan rumbled through his chest as he suckled at your skin, teeth scraping against the tender flesh.

"Hey," you tried again, gently tugging at his hair to get his attention. "Not that I'm not enjoying the enthusiasm, but what's gotten into you lately? You've been extra...bitey."

Kageyama stilled, his face still buried in your cleavage. For a moment, you thought he might have fallen back to sleep. But then he sighed, his breath hot against your dampened skin.

"I just..." he mumbled, his voice muffled and slightly hesitant. "I need...I can't..."

He trailed off, his brow furrowing as he struggled to find the words. You waited patiently, one hand absently stroking his hair while the other rubbed soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

"I don't know," Kageyama finally bit out, frustration evident in his tone. "I just...need you. Need this." As if to punctuate his point, he nuzzled deeper into your chest, his nose nudging the underside of your breast.

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his voice, the uncharacteristic openness. It wasn't like Kageyama to admit to needing anyone or anything. For him to confess his desire for closeness, for comfort...it spoke volumes.

"Oh, Tobio," you murmured, pressing a tender kiss to his hair. "I'm right here, baby. I'm not going anywhere."

You felt him shudder against you, his arms tightening fractionally around your waist. "Promise?" he mumbled, the single word laced with a fragility that made your throat tighten.

"I promise," you whispered fiercely. "You've got me, Tobio. Always."

Kageyama made a noise of contentment, the tension slowly draining from his frame as he melted into your embrace. His face tucked back into your cleavage, nose nestled snugly between your breasts as he inhaled deeply.

You held him close, your heartbeat gradually syncing with his as you let the quiet of the night envelop you both. Maybe you didn't have all the answers yet, maybe Kageyama still had some emotional unpacking to do...

But for now, this was enough. You were enough. And you'd happily be his human stress ball for as long as he needed, bite marks and all.

Just as you were drifting off, you felt Kageyama press a soft, almost reverent kiss to the center of your chest - right above your heart.

"Love you," he mumbled sleepily, the words slightly slurred but unmistakable.

A smile tugged at your lips, your own heart swelling with affection for your adorably grumpy boyfriend.

"Love you too, Tobio," you whispered back. "Even when you're using my boobs as a teething ring."

A muffled snort was his only reply, but you could've sworn you felt him smile against your skin.

You were pulled from a dreamless sleep by the sensation of Kageyama shifting restlessly beside you, his nose nudging insistently at the swell of your breast. Blinking blearily, you glanced down at him, taking in the pinched expression on his face even as he nuzzled deeper into your cleavage.

"Tobio?" you murmured, your voice rough with sleep. "What's wrong, baby?"

Kageyama stilled, his face still tucked firmly against your chest. For a long moment, he said nothing, the only sound in the room his slightly uneven breathing. Then, so quietly you almost missed it:

"Can I...can I suck on you?"

Your breath hitched, your sleep-addled brain struggling to process his request. "You...what?"

Kageyama made a small, frustrated noise, his arms tightening around your waist as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. Even in the darkness, you could make out the dusting of pink across his cheekbones, the bashful set of his mouth.

"I want to...your boobs," he mumbled, his eyes skittering away from yours as he spoke. "Can I..." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Please?"

Oh. Oh.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place - the restlessness, the clinginess, the constant nuzzling and nipping at your breasts. Kageyama had been trying to communicate his needs the only way he knew how, through touch and subtle cues.

Your heart melted, a rush of tenderness and understanding washing over you. Reaching out, you cupped his cheek, gently guiding his gaze back to yours.

"Of course, Tobio," you murmured, your thumb stroking his cheekbone. "Whatever you need, baby."

Kageyama's eyes widened fractionally, a mix of relief and gratitude flashing across his face. Ducking his head, he pressed a chaste, almost reverent kiss to the center of your chest before slowly trailing his lips down to the swell of your breast.

With a shaky exhale, you arched into his touch, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head as he mouthed at your nipple through the thin fabric of your sleep shirt. Kageyama groaned softly, his tongue laving over the sensitive bud as it pebbled beneath his ministrations.

Shifting slightly, you tugged your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. Kageyama made a small, needy noise at the reveal of your bare chest, his hands coming up to cup the soft mounds reverently.

"Go ahead, baby," you encouraged gently, guiding his head back to your breast. "I've got you."

With a shuddering sigh, Kageyama latched onto your nipple, his lips sealing around the sensitive peak as he began to suckle. His eyes fluttered shut, his brow smoothing and shoulders loosening as he lost himself in the soothing, rhythmic pulls.

You cradled him close, your fingers gently carding through his hair as he sucked. There was something profoundly intimate about the moment, a vulnerability and trust that went beyond mere physical pleasure. This was about comfort, connection, a primal need for closeness and reassurance.

As Kageyama continued to suckle, soft, contented sounds rumbling from his chest, you felt your own eyes grow heavy. The steady draw of his mouth, the weight of him in your arms...it was soothing in a way you couldn't quite describe.

From that night forward, nursing became a regular part of your bedtime routine. As soon as the lights went out, Kageyama would curl into you, his head finding its way to your chest like a moth drawn to a flame. He'd nuzzle and mouth at your breasts, his touches soft and reverent, until you guided him to your nipple with a murmured encouragement.

Each night, as he suckled, you'd feel the tension drain from his body, the furrow between his brows smoothing out as he lost himself in the soothing, rhythmic pulls. It was a moment of pure, uncomplicated comfort - a respite from the pressures and expectations of the outside world.

For Kageyama, nursing wasn't about sex or arousal. It was about connection, about grounding himself in the solid reassurance of your presence. It was a way to quiet the noise in his head, to ease the constant thrum of anxiety that came with being a competitive athlete.

And for you...it was a privilege, a sign of the unshakable trust and intimacy you shared. There was something profoundly moving about being able to provide that comfort, that safe space for your partner to simply be.

Of course, it wasn't always easy. There were nights when Kageyama was restless, when the stress of the day clung to him like a second skin. Nights when he'd suckle for hours, his brow pinched and jaw tight even as he clung to your breast like a lifeline.

But you never wavered, never pushed him away. You held him close, your fingers stroking his hair and your heartbeat steady beneath his ear.

Gradually, as the weeks passed, you began to notice a change in Kageyama. His smiles came a little easier, his shoulders sat a little lighter. He laughed more freely, the sound rich and warm in a way that made your heart flutter.

And when he looked at you...god, when he looked at you, it was like staring into the sun. His gaze held a softness, a depth of affection and gratitude that stole your breath and ignited your soul.

You knew that nursing wasn't a magic fix, that Kageyama still had plenty of battles to fight and demons to face. But now...now he had an anchor, a touchstone to come home to at the end of each day.

And that? That made all the difference.

So every night, when Kageyama curled into you, his breath hot against your chest and his lips seeking out your nipple...you simply held him close and let him take what he needed.

Because in the end, that's what love was all about. Giving, receiving, and finding solace in the spaces between.

Even if those spaces happened to be in your cleavage.

[lale-txt]

♡ 𝟗:𝟑𝟖𝐚𝐦 𝐰/ 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐚 & 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

@eustasssimp asked: okay so I just had to based on our recent conversations but FIRST!!! THANK YOU FOR REOPENING YOUR INBOX!!!!! your writing is such a gift and I am so excited to see what people request 💛 I hope you can have lots of fun with it could I please request some sfw Madara and just spending a lazy relaxed day at home with him? grumpy man needs to RELAX (I haven’t requested in so long I am desperately trying to remember how to do this lmao) thank you so much dearest Lale I hope you are able to have a good time and take it easy with the requests you get coming in 🤍

a/n: first time writing for this fine gentleman eep! thank you so much for your request, Lem! this was so much fun to write (though it did take a slightly different turn than i expected and somehow Hashirama makes a guest appearance oops)

word count: 1k

Your morning starts like it always does: Tangled.

Black hair is spilled all over the shared futon, getting in your eyes while you’re slowly blinking awake. You try to stretch your limbs but hear a disgruntled noise in your ear in return, a low and raspy voice muttering your name, while strong arms (and a leg thrown over your lower half) pull you closer. You laugh quietly against your partner’s chest, hearing his heart beating slow and steady next to you. 

“You came home late last night… did you have to drag Hashirama out of the gambling hall again?”, you whisper with a hint of amusement in your voice, which is answered by an annoyed huff from Madara. 

“That idiot almost lost his hokage cloak and the stupid hat… should have just left him butt naked on the streets and gone back home to you”, he replies, his eyes still shut. Madara isn’t a morning person, never was, but the fact that he’s engaging in a conversation with you means that he’s either more awake as he pretends or that he’s feeling slightly guilty for letting you go to bed alone last night. 

Your heart flutters and you smile when Madara presses a soft kiss on top of your head. His embrace feels the same like his love does; warm, secure and maybe a bit too intense if you’re not used to it. He is an Uchiha after all, who are notorious for the way they love–but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“I know you always come back to me though,” you whisper and cup his face with two hands once you manage to brush aside his long hair (and yet it was still everywhere). The morning sun was slowly crawling through the closed curtains but neither of you felt the urge to get up just yet. 

Madara hums at your words, placing his hand on top of yours to kiss the palm of it, down to your wrist, before opening one eye slightly. There’s a faint smile on his lips when he glances at you, and once again you can’t believe that you get to wake up next to him every day–for the rest of your lives even, the golden wedding bands on your ring fingers being proof of that. In one swift motion Madara rolls onto his back and your body right with him, making you lie on top of him and muffling your small protests with a kiss on your lips. 

“Can we stay like this for a little while?”, he mumbles in your ear, big hands finding their way underneath your shirt to feel your soft skin, fingertips drawing small circles on your back. You reply with a small noise of agreement, your face nuzzled in the crook of your husband’s neck, enjoying his affection. Oh, how tempting it is to drift back into sleep… and after all, why not? You’ve found a home in these arms, the safest place on Earth. Madara kisses your forehead, loving this slow morning as much as you do. If you had your eyes open, you would see the smile curling up on his lips and the tenderness in his gaze as he looked down on your figure resting on top of him. 

“I could make us breakfast,” he mumbles after a while, lifting your chin with two fingers to kiss your lips again, “and maybe run us a bath afterwards? Been a while since I washed your hair for you.”

A heartbeat later there’s a rattling noise coming from the kitchen, as if someone dropped several plates all at once, followed by a quiet “oops” in a voice that sounds a little familiar… 

You prop yourself up on your elbows to look Madara in the eyes, one eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“You’re not just proposing that because there is–what I assume–a half-naked and hungover hokage in our kitchen, roaming around for something to eat?” 

Madara looks guilty as charged and gives you an expression that could be best described as puppy eyes, silently pleading for your mercy. You can’t help but laugh and place a kiss on his lips. It’s not like you were mad at him to begin with, you found it was actually very thoughtful of your husband to make sure his best friend didn’t get himself into any trouble and risk getting scolded by his stern brother once again. Plus it wasn’t the first time either, you were almost getting used to your snack stash getting raided by a certain someone…

“I’ll kick him out and then I’ll make us breakfast,” Madara corrects himself with a slight cough. “Our bathtub is too small for three anyway.” He laughs quietly when you smack him with a pillow, grabbing your wrists playfully to stop you from attacking him any further. Madara uses the chance to kiss you again, a little more intense this time until your shoulders slump down and you practically melt into his embrace again. Sneaky, witty Uchiha.

“Tell Hashirama that next time he steals my husband away, I’ll file an official complaint with the hokage office”, you tease once you watch Madara get up and leave the room, wearing nothing but a loose morning robe. He rolls his eyes at you slightly but his smile betrays him as he stops in the door frame to look at you, still in the sheets that smell so heavenly like him. He shakes his head and laughs quietly, heart so full of you, and then he’s stomping down the hallway towards the kitchen.

What was supposed to be a quiet morning somehow turned into a kitchen duel of two adult men challenging each other in who could beat eggs the fastest (Hashirama, but Madara cooked them faster thanks to his katon) with you as their judge, and an impromptu breakfast with even more unannounced visitors (Izuna and Tobirama coming to check up on their respective brothers after abandoning them last night at the gambling hall for good), filling your house with bickering and laughter. 

But you don’t mind. As long as you get to be his, mornings like these make your heart grow fonder, knowing you have a lifetime with each other ahead. It is right there, in front of you, this bright, blazing heart of his.

[alien-magnolia]

I Need Someone Older

Fic description: Dean finds you on a hunt and takes you along to get you safely out of danger, fun ensues :) as the two of you feel an inevitable pull of attraction towards each other.

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tw: AGE GAP! Hyper-feminine reader in early 20’s, Dean in late 40’s, daddy issues <3, dom-coded dean, sub-coded reader, bj, breeding kink!, extremely subby-coded reader, helplessness, praise!!!

Word count: 3.1k

Don’t like, don’t read!!

May 5, 2007

7:40 pm

Your white knee high socks were getting a little dusty from the dirt on the woodsy soil. You came out here to write your poetry, desiring a place for peaceful solitude, and perhaps some creative inspiration. You dusted off your skirt as you sat down on the moist bed of grass. The waning moon was a bit yellow tonight, yet you thought nothing off it. You began to write a few words in your floral notebook, with some neat handwriting and a gel pen.

All of a sudden, you hear a wail in the distance. The wind is cold. A few leaves rustle out a few feet away from you, causing you to stare into the dark pathway on your left, in which many trees loitered. You felt as if you were being watched. You continue with your writing, until again you hear a rustle, this time, a bit closer than before. A chill goes down your spine, and you slowly turn to see a pair of yellow eyes, a figure with long, sharp, claws, and a tall, curved, spiny, skinny, body, with a tail. It snarls, coming closer to you. You drop your notebook, and crawl backwards, the dirt making indents on your palms. You hear a few male voices, and see boots running to attack the creature.

You see a flame, the creature is light ablaze, and you pass out from fear. The last thing you remember is strong arms lifting you up, the smell of beer and cherry pie clouds your nostrils.

You wake up in the wood again, this time, the brighr and warm morning light shines down on your skin, littered with cuts and bruises. You seemed to have lost your favorite lipgloss in the process.

“Where am I? My head…,” you whine, seeing a handsome man next to you, bandaging your cuts and cleaning them. That cheered you up a bit. You wince as his calloused hands rub alcohol on your wound, and you meet his eyes. He had green eyes, dark hair, wore a flannel and jeans and had the most amazing body <3 he looked just, so big, compared to you!

You ask him his name and what happened. “The name’s Dean, sweetheart. My brother and I were in these woods looking for a wendigo. We sure as hell did find one.” You nod, still reeling from the attack last night. “Did that… person, thing, do that to me?,” you ask, eyes wide, a bit nervous. “It’s no person, honey,” he chuckles darkly. “Hate to break it to you, but monsters are real. The whole gang. Vampires, werewolves, spirits, demons, all other things that go bump in the night. All are real.” You sit in shock as he continues to fix your wounds. You notice how good his calloused (gunpowder covered) fingers feel on your calves. You wince as he brushes over a wound, jerking your leg back.

“Too rough?,” he asks, a large hand resting on your thigh. You nod. “S’alright. I’ll be more gentle, yeah?,” he asks, and you nod, feeling satisfied as the older man returns your smile.

“Hey. Might’ve caught trail of another wendigo up ahead. We should get going,” another man dressed in similar fashion walks up ahead, talking to Dean, taking a glance at you. “What's the hold up, Dean?,” he asks.

“Shut it, Sammy. Can’t you see I’m doing something here? Found her at the site where the thing was. Had to fix her up.” Sam nods, as Dean tells him your name. The two then agree to further go hunt for the second wendigo. “What about her? We’re deep in the woods now, sure as hell she ain’t going to go back on her own, Sammy.” “Fine. Take her with you, as long as she doesn’t cause a problem.”

So it was. You were now going to hunt for the wendigo with the Winchester brothers. The dirt and thick jagged branches sometimes were too much for your legs to handle, so you held onto Dean for some of the walk. He didnt seem to mind, and only smirked as you accidentally leaned too much into him, your soft chest grazing his wide and big arms.

“Stay here, stay put. Don’t go anywhere,” Dean commands you, and you do as said, wait as the boys go into the dark cave. An hour later — there was fire, shrieking, and the boys come out unscathed. The last wendigo has been killed, and the three of you make your way back to “baby,” which you later learned was Dean’s nickname for his ‘67 Impala.

Dean drove with Sam in the front, you in the back seat. You dozed in and out of consciousness as the engine lulled you toward the heavy tug of sleep, you overheard the two men speaking about you.

“Well, Dean she has no ID on her so it’s better off that we take her to the local sheriff’s station. We know Jody, she might be able to help,” Sam inquired. “Yeah, well Sammy, you know what, Jody’s probably just going to tell her to go back to the woods or some shit. Maybe she’s far from home. Maybe she was hiding. Who the hell knows? Bet she’d tell us first before talking to law enforcement,” Dean countered.

“Why is it always you and women, Dean? She’s so young too. Maybe a little too young for you?”

“Shut it, Sammy. Respect her. She probably has her reasons. She’s real pretty and I’ll get what I want, eventually,” Dean retorted. Sam sighed.

You drifted back into sleep but squeezed your thighs together at the thought of the older man using you and getting what “he wants.”

You were more than happy to give it to him.

You were in a dingy 1970’s era hotel room, with dark brown shag carpet, rickety beds with neon orange polyester sheets, and a single lamp in the corner, flickering on occasion. No tv, but a rotary phone and radio. Sam was on a chunky laptop that whined and whistled due to all the power his research into Wendigos was taking up. You believed he was on a library forum of some sort. You sat on the bed, dwindling with the phone cord. The low buzz of the fan was heard from the corner.

Dean comes up to you. “Heya, kid. I’m gonna go get some grub. Wanna come with?,” he asks, offering you a hand to help you up from the bed. You nod, smiling, and taking his hand. Dean opted to go to a local bar to get some takeout. He ordered a large burger, large pilsner beer, and a cherry pie. You got some chicken and French fries, sharing some pie with him. You tell him that you were in the woods to write poetry, you got lost and then time seemed to go. Your cell was dead too. He told you about his ‘job’ with his brother Sam, choosing to follow his dad John Winchester’s legacy of hunting down things that go bump in the night. He made you laugh, asking you about your writing, your college education, a life that someone like him never had.

“We’re so different, you and I, know that? Seriously. I mean, college? In my dreams. Wondering what that’s like,” he said to you, while taking a sip of his beer.

“What can I say. I want a decent life for myself, sometimes. I have a pull towards the arts. Literature, actually. Sometimes though, I just want to be on my own. Without the pressures of society, on the road, like you two. Bet you don’t have any deadlines to meet,” you jokingly admit to Dean.

He chuckles, but then nods, a more serious expression growing on his face now, taking another sip of his beer. “Life sucks, kid. Sucks for me and Sammy, we’re out on the road, might die the next day. Never know what the fuck’s chasing after us,” he has a bit of a solemn expression, taking another sip of his beer.

You nodded, understanding him, seeing through the “tough guy” facade that he’s put up. He was scared. He needed someone to comfort him, to support him. His brother was his partner, yet that wasn’t the partner he was looking for.

You reach over to put your dainty hand on his large one. “Thanks for dinner, really. We should save some for Sam, though, I think,” you giggle, watching a grown man blush over your gentle touch. “Yeah, sure thing sweetheart. Anytime…,” he trails off, his blush seemed to get stronger and he was avoiding eye contact a bit.

“You okay?,” you ask, meeting his eyes, feeling something start to heat up between the two of you, the air suddenly was heavy. “You’re just, well, pretty, kid. Seriously. Real fuckin’ nice, sweets,” he chuckles, his large fingers coming to intertwine with yours. You almost faint under the pressure of his hand on yours, your eyes drift to his muscular and wide frame, his tattered Jean jacket, his necklace on a black piece of string, his chiseled jawline. As funny as he was, you knew that you had an undeniable attraction towards him.

He saved you from the wendigo, but you let him. You let him take you back to the motel with Sam. You let him have you stay with them. Now. You’d let him have your body. All of it.

“Maybe we can go into those woods again? I can show you some poems?,” you reel, watching the older man’s eyes light up with a burning flame. “Sure, thing, kid. I’ll take you up there in ‘baby.’

With a few stares and leers from the other inhabitants of the shady bar, Dean leads you by the waist out the door, and into his impala, opening the door for you, of course.

“Ladies first,” he bows down a bit as he holds the shabby car door open for you. You take his helping hand and slide into the shotgun (front) seat. He quickly runs over to the driver’s side, a toothpick in his mouth as he climbs in, adjusting the jagged rearview mirror. You struggled to buckle up in the old model of a car, so Dean helped out, buckling it for you. You liked the many things he seemed to do for you. His care. His help.

He pulls out of the diner driveway, one of his ringed hands on the wheel, another tracing gentle patterns all over your thigh. You adjust your socks as his patterns make you heat up — inside and out. “I know a place. You down? If not I’m fine with it, sweet thing. No pressure, s’all,” his voice is soft, gentle, as if speaking to a child. You blush. “It’s alright, Dean. I’ll show you my poems. I’ll show you something else too, I think you’ll like it,” you cover your smile as you let out a few small giggles. He smirks back at you.

“Oh I’ll like it, alright. God damn,” he stifles, his strong, calloused fingers gripping a bit harder on your soft thigh. The rest of the drive was tense, just how you liked it. Soft rock — ‘Blue Oyster Cult’s’ “Don’t Fear The Reaper” played in the background, and it would usually lull you to sleep. Not tonight. Your heart raced, stealing glances at the man next to you. The man about to take your virginity, what concept you or society made of it. You hoped he didn’t mind.

The impala pulled into a motel parking lot: the same one where you left from. “Dean. Your brother..won’t he..?, you ask, and he quickly interrupts. “Well just be in a different room, is all. Sammy wouldn’t care anyway, as much as I’d like him to. He takes your hand again, leading you to Room 22, on the second floor. Your fingers trace the grimy balcony railing as you head up there.

The door shuts. You smile at him, then look down at your feet. “Can I, um. Kiss you, Dean?,” you ask, shy and sweet, a delicious pie on the shelf, a cherry blossom that smells and tastes so sweet, intoxicating the older man closer and closer to you. “F’course. You’ve never done this before, have you?” You nod. “Let me take the lead, yeah, sweet thing. I’ll be gentle. Scout’s honor,” he smiles, holding up two fingers. You nod, wrapping your small arms around his broad chest. Your soft chest pressed against his, you feel the cool metal of his pentagram necklace press against your warm, beating heart.

His large arms trail down to squeeze your waist a bit, and then rub circles down below, your waist and hips. He gave them a tight squeeze, you gasped at his strength. His fingers continued ministrations on your waist, hips, thighs, and the two of your lips danced in a slow and sensual rhythm. You could taste the beer and cherry pie on him, and you ran your fingers through his coarse hair.

His thumb rubs your cheek a bit, and he picks you up in his arms, you wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you over to the bed, gently laying you down under him. His face above you, his brown eyes in awe taking in your sweet skin, putting him in a trance. His calloused hands run down your arms, your belly, gentle, soft, and slow. He grabs your chin, pulling your face towards his, and meets you for a chaste kiss, slow, you felt the stubble on his cheek and smiled into his lips.

His hand runs through your hair, over your cheek, this thumb caressing your face a bit. You keep the kiss going, you feel him getting rougher, hungrier for you. Your hands touch his broad chest, trailing on the hem of his shirt, which you take off. His chest was bare, just with a tiny bit of hair, and a very prominent happy trail <3 of which you run your fingers through.

His hands lead your hips up against the wall, tracing patterns on your back. Your lips are hungry for each others, you push your chest into his. “Fuck, sweet thing. Gonna drive me up the wall here, Jesus,” his voice now an octave deeper, raspier, breathless. His cherry pink swollen lips meet yours again, you feel his aftershave on your face. Your thighs rub against his growing bulge, positioning your legs so his thickening tent on his jeans was pressed up snug, right into your growing wetness in between your legs.

“Dean…want it,” you moan out, your delicate, manicured fingers tracing the toughness of his stubble. “Want what, huh? Gotta ask nicely, don’t keep me guessing, honey,” he smirks, a condescending expression appearing on his handsome face.

“I-uh, your, uh, oh, fuck,” you breathlessly whimper out, as his rough, calloused fingers gently slide down between your legs, rubbing your soft, warm folds, through your pretty and pink lace.

“Let me see what you got down there, hmm?,” he smirks, knowing that he has you completely wrapped around his finger. You nod, his hand cups your cheek for another kiss. He slides off your skirt, your knee highs, your Lacey top. You work on his jeans, until he stops you, with a look — meaning that he can take care of it.

All clothes gone — your legs intertwine, he presses his leaking bulge into your folds, you could practically feel how you clenched around nothing!!

“Dean…,” you beg again. “What’s wrong, huh? What’re you beggin’ for, seeet thing. Gotta give me words,” he says, all the while his thick fingers continue to work you open — get you ready for him.

A soft smile is on his face as his fingers become ever so gentle, continuing a circular pattern, pausing to tightly cup and squeeze your pulsing mound.

“Want. Want your, ha — your cock, Dean. Please. Please!,” you squeal out, just as he cups and massages your mound once more. “Why didn’t you say so, at first, sweet thing? Here I was thinkin’ you only wanted my fingers,” he chuckles, smile full of adoration — seeing you in a close to ruined state. His fingers pull out with a squelch.

You whine at the loss, your cunt throbbing, pulsing, desperate to be filled!! He smiles, hands on your hips. “Bend over f’me, baby.” You do as said, his smile and yours widen as his two hands cup your ass, giving it a hard smack.

His hands trace up and down your back, your waist, until you feel his soft tip press at your entrance. You turn around to view what you’ve been waiting for. He’s big. Short, yet thick. Oh so thick. You weren’t sure if he’d fit. A large vein ran down his left side. Fuck — how you wanted that in your mouth.

His hand gently guides your face back down into the table which you were bent over. “Down, baby. You’ll get a chance later, yeah?,” he soothes you. You nod. You feel his throbbing tip at your mound, as he slides in — you feel the stretch, just for a bit, and then he starts to push in, you felt so full !!

“Fuck— ah, Dean, too much, too much,” you squeal out, as he slides in, and starts to move, thrust, slow, gentle at first, and then deep, fast, his thick balls slapping against your mound. You saw stars, felt pressure as he kept going, faster, rutting into you, his hairy chest pressing into your back. The man had put you in a mating press. You wouldn’t mind. With how it’s going with him — you’d take his seed. Anything for the man that saved you from the Wendigo.

Your eyes roll back into your head, his grip on your hips was like a vice. The two of you finish with screams. He groans. “Fuck, sweet thing. You take it like a champ, yeah?” You nod giddily, anything for his praise and approval. “How’s about we stay in this room tonight? I’ll getchu’ a beer.” You nod. “That’s my good girl. Stay put.” With that, your mound is even more wet, you’re left clenching, covered in his cum as he leaves to get you snacks.

He comes back, presses a nice kiss to your forehead, and makes the two of you some dinner. You wondered what this will lead to.

Author’s note: pls support your creators <3 if you love this fic pls comment or reblog! Greatly appreciated <3 xoxo - Liz