#man i wish i could still have a drink now and then without it making me feel awful for the next three days

[porcelainseashore]

Coffee & Secrets (3)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Rookie Cop! Leon x Barista! Fem! Reader

Summary: As a cozy coffee shop owner in Raccoon City, you’re no stranger to visitors seeking comfort, quiet, and warmth. When a rookie officer named Leon finds a kindred spirit in you, it sets in motion a chain of events that forever changes the course of your lives. An alternate universe set in Resident Evil 2 Remake and inspired by the game Coffee Talk.

Content & Warnings: Canon divergence, coffee shops, romance, slow burn, strangers to lovers, idiots in love, fluff, slice of life, swearing

AO3 Link

Chapter 3: Venture

As the days flew by, quickly turning into weeks and the weeks culminating in months, Leon grew busier, taking on additional responsibilities from his colleagues. Just as you had predicted, he was more than qualified and capable of handling his own in the role of a police officer. Despite that, he always found the time to visit your shop, even if it was for a quick coffee break during a night shift. No matter how grueling it was, he would be there. Sometimes, he would even get yelled at by his patrol partner for taking too long, though they were often placated by a free pick-me-up you doled out, which Leon insisted on footing the bill without fail.

One of these nights, he strolled in with Lieutenant Branagh, chatting jovially as they grabbed the usual front row seats.

“How’s my favorite barista doing?” Marvin greeted you, unclasping his arms as he brought you in for a quick hug over the counter.

“Not too shabby, how about you? How’s the girls?”

Leon eyed the two of you curiously; the familiarity with which you interacted with each other catching him slightly off-guard.

“They’re doing great, growing up so fast. My eldest might surpass her old man in a year’s time—just you wait,” he chortled, settling himself in.

“Remember her?” He passed you a recent photo of his daughter from his wallet.

“No way,” you guffawed, feeling the glossy paper nestle itself between your fingers. “She’s changed so much!”

“She’s a fine, young lady now, with a good head over her shoulders,” he responded, his eyes brimming with pride. “Just like yourself.”

“Thanks Marv,” you said, your response heartfelt as you returned the photo to him. “So, the usual?”

Rapping his fingers rhythmically on the table, he confirmed, “The usual.”

“Hey.” It was soft, unassuming, and so unapologetically Leon. 

A subtle smile broke out across his lips as he nodded at you. No hug—maybe it was too soon for hugs and he was not comfortable enough.

“Hey,” you acknowledged, nodding back with a faint smile of your own.

“I wish I could say ‘the usual’, but I don’t have one yet,” he admitted. “By the way, I’m getting this round.” He turned and peered over at Marvin who stood up halfway to protest.

“Naw, come on, put your money away, boy,” the older man commanded.

But Leon was not having any of it. “I insist, Lieutenant.” Holding his hand up before Marvin, he continued, “These few months, you’ve gone out of the way to mentor and support me. It’s the least I could do.”

At this, Marvin raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, then I’ll accept your offer graciously, rookie.”

You saw Leon scoff lightly at the nickname as he turned his attention towards you, his features mellowing. “I’ll take whatever you brew for me tonight,” he decided.

Just as you spun around to complete the order, he murmured, the lilt of his voice carried across by the wind, “It’s so good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too, Leon,” you whispered back, noticing the crinkle in his eyes, the way he subconsciously puffed out his chest, and the fleeting glimpse of happiness that washed over his face.

Marvin glanced between the two of you as a knowing smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he said nothing, trusting in the passage of time to make its intentions clear.

When you served their drinks, Marvin slurped his down voraciously. “Ooh, the kick is still there. De-licious!” he exclaimed.

“What’s that?” Leon quizzed.

“Kopi Jahe—coffee and ginger,” Marvin clarified. “It’s Indonesian, if I’m not wrong. Perfect for my lactose-intolerant stomach.” He patted his belly to emphasize his point.

“Whatcha get?” he asked in return.

The younger officer blushed as he looked at you. “Guess I’ll have to taste it to find out.”

As always, he sniffed it before taking a tentative sip from the cup. “Mmm…” His eyes squeezed shut while he focused on the flavors. “Hmm…”

“Mint?” His bright blues greeted you again.

“Coffee, mint and honey,” you affirmed, flourishing it with a name, “Fire and Ice.”

Before he had a chance to respond, the door chime rang, and your eyes darted to your next customer of the night.

Ben. Good ol’ Ben Bertolucci.

“A Triple Espresso, please,” he called out, already striding towards his usual sitting corner, while simultaneously giving the two policemen a long, hard look. 

“Evening, officers,” he said curtly, giving them a sharp nod. They tipped their hats back, paying no mind to his soured mood as they dived into another conversation of their own.

Firing up the coffee machine, you ground the beans into a fine powder and let the pressurized hot water seep through the puck. The richly aromatic smell of a dark roast filled the air as the concentrated, viscous liquid dripped into the awaiting demitasse.

During this intermediary period, you unwittingly eavesdropped on the friendly chat between the officers.

“How do you know her again, Lieutenant?”

“Oh, I’ve been here a good number of times back in the day. Times when I really needed it. Times when all I wanted was a comforting drink and a space to sort out my mess. I happened to stumble across this shop—”

“Me too.”

“Hmpf, guess it’s that kinda place… let’s count ourselves lucky then. Anyway, enough about me. What about you?”

“Uh, what about me, sir?”

“You got any plans for your future, son? Pretty sure you didn’t just end up in Raccoon City with those perfect grades.”

“Oh, um, yeah. I guess. Now that you put it that way, uh, I’ve always wanted to investigate the Arklay Murders.”

“The Arklay Murders, huh? Shooting for the detective route?”

“You could say that.”

“Well, have you ever considered applying for S.T.A.R.S.?”

“Wh-what? Um, no, sir. Didn’t think I would qualify for something like that yet.”

“I’ve seen how you work. You're a fast learner, diligent, and competent. I know talent when I see it. You just need to work on your confidence a little, rookie. Keep this up and you’ll have my letter of recommendation on your desk by next year.”

“Wow, th-thanks, Lieutenant… I’m just not sure—”

“Look, you don’t have to make a decision now. All I’m asking is for you to think about it, alright?”

Reluctantly tearing yourself away from the rest of the discussion, you picked up the demitasse, which seemed to weigh like stone as you trudged over to Ben, setting it down on his makeshift desk. Heaps of documents were strewn across its surface in a haphazard manner as he scribbled furiously on his notepad, circling items in a red marker.

“Oh, hey, thanks,” he mumbled, still absorbed in his writing. “Hope you don’t mind, but it’s gonna be a long night.”

“Not at all, Ben,” you said, frowning at the grainy images of what appeared to be the Chief of Police, Brian Irons, in the background.

When he saw you peeking at his work, he shuffled apprehensively in his seat, attempting to use his arm to block your view. “Sorry, but this is top secret stuff.”

“I understand,” you replied empathetically. “Don’t worry, it’s safe with me.”

He snorted at your remark, but eased up, absentmindedly stroking his beard as he spoke, “Appreciate it. Don’t wanna rub people the wrong way, like those folks over there.” He jutted his chin out in Leon and Marvin’s direction.

“Seems like the RPD has taken a liking to this place,” he added with a hint of disdain.

You shook your head and laughed. “Not all of my customers are police officers, Ben.”

Narrowing his eyes at the two, he piped up, “Just watch yourself, that’s my advice. In my world, they’re pigs—the whole lot of ’em. Probably why the term ‘ACAB’ exists, eh?” He wagged his finger. “Food for thought.”

“You’ve probably seen a lot of abuse in your line of work,” you speculated, figuring that his poor experience with the force had shaped his current opinion.

“No shit,” he huffed before composing himself. “Well, as far as I can tell, Branagh’s… tolerable. Dull, but tolerable. The kid over there though, I don’t trust him, seems a bit green.”

You glanced over at Leon briefly. Almost as if he sensed your presence, his eyes shifted away from Marvin, colliding with yours, and a smile tinged with uncertainty unfolded on his face.

He’ll come into his own, you thought, smiling back reassuringly.

“So…” 

Ben’s gruff voice snapped you out of your reverie as you faced him again, but you didn’t miss a beat. “So, you’re obviously swamped. Ever imagined hiring an intern?”

“Why? Having second thoughts about your business?” he smirked in amusement.

“Nah, just a suggestion,” you replied blithely as you clutched the tray across your chest and tottered back to the counter. “You should put a call out. I’m sure a bunch of people would be interested in the work you do.”

Back at the other table, Marvin rose to leave, slapping Leon’s back encouragingly. “Well, it’s been a pleasure, but if I don’t head home in the next five minutes, I’ll end up on the sofa tonight.”

After you said your goodbyes, Leon leaned against the side of the counter, adjusting the hem of his uniform as he looked between the door and you, seemingly debating whether he should call it a night too. However, he decided otherwise.

“Um, you don’t mind if I stay a little longer, do you?”

“Not at all.” You indicated towards the typically vacant chairs in the room. “Take all the time you need.”

He did not sit down, hanging around you in silence for a few minutes before he said what was on his mind. “Did you always want to be a barista when you grew up?”

That stumped you. It was not very often that you received personal questions or interest in what you were doing. Maybe some even felt bad to ask. You were far more used to listening to people, and not the other way around.

“No, not really,” you answered truthfully. “To be frank, I don’t think I ever knew.”

“So, what made you decide?”

You hummed, tapping your chin as you pondered his question. “It was something I kinda just fell into,” you explained. “I saw an opportunity and took my chance. I guess I’ve always been idealistic and wanting to help people…”

“I’ve always wanted that too…” he chimed in gently as his fingers inadvertently brushed against yours. He jerked his hand away as soon as he realized, as if he had received an electric shock.

Pressing his lips into a thin line, he continued, “I became who I am because, when I was young, I saw someone do this very same job. He helped others, ordinary people, including me.”

“The man saved my life,” he stressed, pausing as if recalling a distant memory, before he divulged, “I told everyone, ‘That’s who I want to be when I grow up!’ Helping civilians, doing the little things that change their lives.”

“Now it feels like I’m only getting further away from it,” he sighed despondently. “Solving mystery cases like Scooby-Doo and joining an elite team…”

Your fingertips grazed his knuckles. “Nothing’s stopping you.”

“What?” He looked at you, startled.

“Nothing’s stopping you from helping others, just because you end up doing something else,” you answered plainly.

It took a while for your words to sink in before he could react to them. “You’re— I don’t know how you do it,” he chuckled in disbelief to himself. “You make me want to tell you everything. That’s your superpower.”

“I’m just me,” you shrugged. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“And that’s exactly how I like you.”

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[ddejavvu]

this is depraved, but grinding on logan’s happy trail to get off 🫢

Hands Free - Logan Howlett x Reader

send me logan requests!

contents/warnings: smut, minors dni, mean!logan, drinking, don't like don't read.

You've caught Logan at a bad time. The surly mutant is a complicated man, and one with less psychological damage than him might be eager to whip it out whenever, but Logan isn't. He's busy brooding, and he's not to be interrupted when he's got a bottle in one hand and a cigar in the other.

But you need him. There's a pit in your belly that's only made worse by the scowl on his face, and your cunt aches beneath your now-slick panties for something to envelop. You're desperate for Logan to fuck you, but there's no way you'll convince him if he's not in the mood.

"I can feel you staring," He grumbles, eyes still cast to the floor as he takes another swig of burning liquor, "What do you want?"

There's no polite way to say you.

"Uhm," You shift on your feet, thighs clenched, "I'm just feeling- I'm a little, um, I-"

"Spit it out."

"I need you." You breathe, ashamed by the sentence, but Logan's face remains untouched, nothing moving but the lingering smoke from his smoldering cigar.

"I'm not in the mood." He grunts, like it isn't obvious.

"I- I know." You fall awkwardly silent again, rising onto your tiptoes and falling back to your heels. Up, down. Up, down. Up, down. Up-

"Don't make a mess." He shifts in the chair, lowering his hips until they're level with his abdomen, offering you the best seat in the house.

He's shirtless, which means that if you can't have his cock, or his fingers, you can get the next best thing. A combination of the friction from the waistband of his jeans, and his toned abs, blanketed with coarse, wiry hair.

You mount him eagerly, which isn't hard to do seeing as his chair has no arms. It's got a back so that he can lean against it, but your support system is his chest, where you firmly plant your hands in preparation to get yourself off.

There's a dark line of hair that trails from the bottom of his navel and disappears beneath his waistband, flanked on either side with a sharp line of muscle that tapers down towards his cock in a V. His body is a work of art, and you only wish his equally gorgeous face was pointed your direction.

No matter- you won't push. You're lucky he's letting you get off on his lap, you'll take what you can get.

"Easy," He grumbles, rocked by the sudden jerk of your hips. As you settle into a steady rhythm you realize you've already failed his one directive of not making a mess, but there's no way to stop or slow the steady stream of slick that's pouring from your weeping cunt. It's sobbing, slobbering, begging for a cock, but you drag it flush against Logan's abs and mat his happy trail down with your translucent arousal.

"One fuckin' job," He gripes, reaching down to swipe two fingers through the slick that's glistening on his stomach as you find better friction near the waistband of his jeans. The texture of the denim is rough, and you realize with giddy desperation that he's getting hard in his pants despite his insistence that he wasn't in the mood.

He sticks his fingers in his mouth for a taste, his cigar left behind in its ashtray on the side table. He doesn't relinquish the bottle, but he takes equal sips of that and of the mess you're making on his abs.

Finally, thanks to the sizeable bulge in Logan's jeans, you're able to hump your way to completion on his stomach. It's not hard, considering you'd been achingly horny before, but without something inside of you your release feels empty and wasted. You'd use your fingers if you could, but you can't move your hands or you'd faceplant on Logan's chest, and you don't want to invade his space any further in case he decides your privileges have been revoked.

"Poor thing." He murmurs when your hips slow and you're panting against his chest. You glance at his face but he's staring at your cunt, not at you, "She's so hungry."

It takes him one, two, three seconds to reach for his belt, "Well, c'mon. Up now, there y'go." As you shimmy up his abdomen, slicking his happy trail up with your release once more. As soon as he's able to free his cock he slides a hand under your ass, boosting you up so that you're finally able to sink down onto his red-tipped, leaking cock.

"Jesus, she's sucking me in," He grunts, his voice gruff and ragged, "How long were you waiting to ask me?"

"Too long." You whine, pussy already sensitive from your first orgasm, and now in utter bliss from finally being penetrated after all that teasing, "I- hnngh! My toys don't work anymore. They're- they're nothing like you, I can't use them. I can't ever finish."

Logan scoffs, still in a mood as sour as the liquor on his breath, but his hands find their place on your waist as he helps bounce you on his cock, "Shame. Those were supposed to keep you busy. Guess I'll have to do it then, hm?"

You nod vigorously against the crook of Logan's neck, your nose buried where his neck meets his shoulder, and where sweat accumulates sticky on his skin. You lick it up, and Logan hisses against the mouth of his bottle as he takes another swig.

"Fine." He grumbles, butting the bottle up to your head and forcing it against your lips, "Take this, take a nice big- there you go. That'll make you sleepy," He vows, and the head rush comes just like he'd warned. His hips begin shifting, circling slightly in gyrations that only add to the pleasure of bouncing on his dick, "And this'll knock you out, crazy."

[ramonathinks]

— LIVE NOW, THINK LATER (NANAMI K.)

warning: (18+) infidelity, car sex, creampie, small feelings (lolll).

“You look beautiful.” A familiar voice startled you. He couldn’t believe his eyes really, your beautiful skin glowing and your eyes twinkling.

“Oh, Kento! I didn’t think you’d make it,” You moved into his arms and he held you tightly, his fingers dancing across your waist.

You pulled away and smiled at him. He chuckled, “Wouldn’t have missed it.” But he wish he did. He hated how this tortured him and wound him up. He hated watching you be in love with someone else.

“I got you something.” He whispered, his fingers playing in your hair. He tried to remember to keep his distance. He could already hear the whispers around him, women judging and asking if you had “any sense at all” or decorum, to be with any other man than your husband right now.

Your husband who was too busy drinking and laughing with his friends to notice. But the women didn’t say anything about that.

“Oh really?” You asked, quirking a brow. “Lemme see it!” You jumped and clapped your hands so excited.

“I’ll have to take you away…” He licked his lips and did a devilish smile. He held up his index finger and walked towards your husband. “Mind if I take her away from you? No more than twenty minutes…” He asked, his tone annoyed as he looked at the man who just married you.

He waved Nanami off and continued back to his conversations. Nanami wanted to hurt him. He wouldn’t have let you go anywhere without him tonight. He wouldn’t have left you alone tonight.

He grabbed your hand and he whisked you away from it all. He took you to his car and looked around, making sure it was nobody near you both. He helped you inside, picking up the bottom of your long white wedding dress and carefully putting it inside.

“Why couldn’t you just wait for me? Huh?” He hated this. “I promised you and—“

“You promised me for years, Kento. Work was always a priority for you. I was tired of being second place.” Your words stung and he knew that it was true but he always figured that you’d stay. When you left he assumed you just needed some space, when you got a boyfriend he reassured himself that you’d come back…but when he saw the wedding invitations and even received one in the mail… he knew that he lost you.

He stared into your pretty eyes and caressed your cheek, “Why did you invite me then? Pity? I can already see how your life is going to be. Married for a year, pregnant with an inattentive husband who’ll fuck his co-worker more than he fucks you. He doesn’t even look at you and those vows of his? The embarrassment on your face told it all. You don’t love him…not how you loved me.”

You swallowed, “Kento… let’s not do this, here.” Your hands were shaky and your palms sweating. “You said you have a gift for me?”

He paused, thinking momentarily. Popping open the glove department and reaching inside, he presented a rectangular blue box with a scarlet red ribbon on top. “For you, I hope you like it.”

He heard you gasp, “A Tiffany tennis bracelet?” Your eyes were wide. “Do you know how expensive these are? Well — of course you do, you bought this one.” You did an awkward chuckle.

He already knew you would ask, when he saw your mouth open. “It was seventy-thousand dollars. I saw it, thought you’d like it and that was that. It’s the least I could do for you, baby.”

“Seventy— Are you insane? It’s beautiful but for that amount? I… you could’ve bought a house or… gosh… I barely even spent fifty thousand on this wedding.”

“Oh, so you really settled.” He muttered and to his surprise you laughed.

“I did.” You agreed with a strained smile and a sad look in your eyes. “Thank you for this… it’s so beautiful and I do love it, I always loved their stuff and I always hated that I left all my jewelry behind, all those years ago.” You released a heavy sigh.

“I still have ‘em. Could drop them off one day, maybe. Or… you could come and get them.” He said and you looked at him with narrowed eyes. He held his hands up in surrender, “No funny business.”

“Yeah right. I already know you brought me out here to try to fuck me.” He coughed in surprise at your words. “A present, really? That you had to take me all the way out here and not give me in front of everyone?”

“I didn’t want to embarrass your husband. That’s all. Nothing more. Honest.” He moved his hands to cover his hardening cock. “But… how’s the sex?”

“You’re that curious? I already told you I settled and you already know there’s nobody better than you.” You looked at him with heavy-lidded hazy eyes, your voice soft as silk.

He swallowed. “Divorce him and I’ll give you the wedding you deserve. I’d spend double the amount of that bracelet on you. You deserve the best, baby. I work and work because I didn’t ever want you to be comfortable living a simple life when I could give you more. I love you and there’s no one like you.” He took your hand and pressed it to his chest. “This has always been yours, it has your name on it and it forever will.”

You kissed him, it was too hot in his car to think about anything. You didn’t care that you were still in your wedding dress or that someone could see you. You just wanted him. He reached forward and put a tightening hand on your waist, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss.

His tongue sucked on yours and swirled inside. Your nails digging into his hair as you pulled him closer towards you. “I want it.” You whispered against his lips, kissing the side of his neck and licking a long stripe up. “Let’s go.” You motioned towards the back and he smiled.

Crawling to the backseat and he palmed your ass. “Naughty, naughty.” You giggled, drunk off something. Drunk off Nanami Kento. He joined you in the back, you pulled at his tie and he happily sighed.

Unbuttoning his pants before he began bunching up your dress, he slid down the thin panties you were and looked between your legs. “This for me?” He looked at you, his dark brown eyes full of pure lust. You were soaked, wetness covering your thighs and your lips stuck together with glossy strings of your essence. You nodded, unable to speak and he kissed you again. It felt like before, when you both started dating and how soft he always was with you.

He inhaled, your smell all over the place and he loved every second of it.

“Does he know that you like to be touched, right here? Or right there?” His fingers were simply dancing across your lower body, working you up just from small touches, but he wouldn’t slip them inside, much to your frustration. Your hips thrusts up a bit, begging for more before all of the warmth of his fingers pulled away.

He slid his pants and boxers down, staring at your soaked folds. His cock had a thick bunch of hair that was lightly trimmed and it looked prettier than you ever seen it, with creamy white precum gushing out of the tip.

He slid a hand down after gathering the small amounts of leaking precum, the lewd sounds of him jerking himself off filled the car and made you whine. “Please, hurry up.” Spreading yourself more so that he can see the cream between your folds drip to his seat. He muttered something quietly and pulled your dress up more, rubbing his cock up and down your slit, both of you hissing and gasping.

Your nails were digging into his forearm when he finally slipped inside of you, he groaned close to your mouth. You huffed, wrapping your legs around his, wanting him to fully be inside of you. When both of your pelvis’s were touching, hips flushed together. He felt you squeeze around him and more of your wetness squirted out of your pussy when he snapped his hips in a solid thrust.

“Does he know your body like me?” Even though you told him earlier, he wanted to know while he was pounding into you, holding up the sides of your wedding dress. His hips were moving dangerously fast now, making your titties bounce. Foreheads touching and his cock filling you up, your eyes rolled back.

“No, he—ah— he doesn’t. Never even made me cum.”

“Oh, so I have to make up for that, don’t I, baby?” He drags his cock in and out of you, the loud sounds of slapping skin made him even harder as he looked at your fucked out expression. Your legs were already shaking, so he added pressure by rubbing your clit in small circles. Tightening around him yet again and he smiled, “That’s my girl.” You rolled your hips, trying to push yourself even closer to your orgasm.

“Look at me. Remember who’s fucking you and who’s making you feel this good, right now. Got that?” He whispered in your ear, biting it playfully.

You felt so good around him, closer to heaven and he knew for this moment with him fucking you right now, he was dragging you closer to hell. Be he couldn’t care less, your tiny cunt creaming around him, your back arching and your toes squeezing.

Your pussy constricts around him and a stream of your cum drips down between the both of you. But Nanami doesn’t stop; he rolls his hips again and fucks more of that creamy wetness out of you. He presses your stomach and you squirm. “I’m gonna come inside of you, ‘kay?” You can’t talk anymore so you just moan and sigh, nodding your head.

Both of your hips bucking, grinding into each other’s pelvis’s, he cums. It’s heavy and you spasm around him, sucking him deeper inside and he shutters. “You feel so fucking good. Could do this all night baby.” He slipped out for a moment, looking at his cum soaked half hard cock, before he pushed back in. You gasped, pushing him back a bit to no avail.

“You love me don’t you, baby?”

“Always, Kento.”

no part two.

[obsessedelusional]

the prettiest girl in the room (smut)

paring ↬ Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary ↬ You shared a secret relationship with Eddie, if that’s what you could even consider it. You wished for more but never could bring yourself to tell Eddie this. What happens when your at a party and he gets dared to kiss the prettiest girl in the room?

word count ↬ almost 3k

a/n: felt inspired to write for my pookie eddie munson again.. I will cherish this man till the day I die luv uuuuuu

reblogs & feedback appreciated ♡

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” Eddie responds, sitting back in the couch with his legs spread waiting for his dare. You watch him smiling at his cocky grin towards the random freshman that chose him for truth or dare. Eddie would undoubtedly answer any question or complete any dare thrown his way.

“I dare you to…” The freshman’s voice fades as he looks around the room, trying to think of how to finish his sentence. Eddie only laughs in response, making a joke about finishing his dare sometime today.

Everyone is laughing but you, eyes still on Eddie. Your lips press to your solo cup, taking a sip of the drink someone mixed for you. Your thoughts are else where, the way Eddie is sat reminds you of the night before. When you were sat in his lap, riding his cock. His lips pressed to your chest, leaving marks that are still there. Hidden under your bra.

The freshman takes too long, to the point others begin to suggest dares for Eddie. He still hasn’t looked at you, and maybe that’s entirely your own fault. The two of you have been dating secretly for a few months now. He was the one to offer the secrecy to you, as an attempt to keep your perfect reputation. At first you thought it would be a one time thing so you agreed. Nothing more than a meaningless drunken hook up but after that he had you hooked. You kept coming back for more, until it became a nearly daily occurrence.

The talk of what you two were never to be had. Feelings growing on both sides, and now here you are. At a party tipsier than you should be. You stopped keeping count a while ago. Staring at him with fuck me eyes, too drunk to care who’s watching. You two exchanged a few smiles, brief conversations as if you two were nothing more than acquaintances. Which upset you but at the end of the day it’s your fault for making Eddie feel like he needed to be a secret in the first place.

“I dare you to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.” The freshman finally speaks, louder than everyone in the room. Shutting everyone up as they watch in anticipation of who he will choose.

You too are watching the only difference is your eyes haven’t left Eddie all night. His eyes scan the room, playfully looking at all the different girls. Finally his eyes land on yours, only stopping for a moment before moving on. Your heart is broken, begging for you to leave the room. In one swift moment he stands up and walks across the room, away from you. Of all the people he could kiss right now, he chooses the worst possible choice. His ex.

Can’t bring your self to watch, looking down at your cup. Your eyes finally leaving the man you’ve been secretly dating for months now. As people begin to cheer and laugh at the kiss shared between ex lovers. Eddie pulls away, viewers chanting for more.

“Nah I did my dare, I’m done. Who’s next?” He chuckles as he plops down onto the couch where he was previously sitting.

The game continues on like you didn’t just witness the man you’ve grown to care for, maybe even love kiss his ex. You’re a mixture of anger and sadness but self aware enough to know that this is your own doing. It’s all too much so without announcing your departure, you stand up and walk through the crowded room. You finish off your drink, throw away the evidence and make an attempt to leave the party.

Realizing that you’re entirely fucked, no way to leave. Your home too far to walk, your ride somewhere in the party with absolutely no intention of leaving any time soon. Annoyed because you only came with your friend because you knew Eddie would be here, hoping that you showing up would have ended differently.

A frustrated sigh leaves your mouth as you head outside anyways. Deciding to take a moment to breathe before heading back into the party. Thanking whoever’s listening when you walk out side to an empty porch. Sitting down on the steps, looking out at the silent road filled with unfamiliar houses. A few cars drive by as time passes.

You sit there staring and thinking about how you ended up here. Alone but having a secret relationship, with a man you’ve grown to love. Not even entirely sure if his feelings are mutual. You’ve been spending so much time with him. Most if not all instances leading to sex. Even when you two aren’t fucking, there’s a connection. You’ve spent more time at his trailer than your own home in that last month. He makes you so happy, quickly become the person you run to when you need anything. Doing everything a relationship entails without labeling it.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by the sound of the front door opening and that oh so familiar scent of cigarettes, weed and his cheap cologne you’ve grown to love. Your eyes stay down, looking at your fingers that fiddle with anxiety as he sits next to you.

“I was looking for you.” He speaks, facing you.

“I just needed some air.” You whisper, avoiding eye contact but Eddie knows better. Knows that you’re upset at the kiss and too stubborn to admit that.

“Why are you crying?” He asks, touching your chin and tugging at your face to look at him. You didn’t even realize you were crying, so you wipe away the tears. As a sad attempt to mask your pain. Mentally noting that you had too much to drink as you plaster a fake smile on your lips.

“I don’t know. It’s stupid. It’s probably cause I’m so drunk.” You force a laugh, wiping away at the remaining tears. Eddie doesn’t laugh and obviously doesn’t buy your excuse.

“Is this because I kissed her and not you?” He questions, and your smile fades as you nod your head in response.

“I didn’t want to kiss her. I just about puked as I did it. Was so close to blowing chunks all over her.” He admits, letting him self laugh at the thought causing you to feel a little better.

“I wanted to kiss you, only you. I just wasn’t sure if you would have been okay with that.. considering we’re just kinda hooking up or whatever this is. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with such a public display of affection.” He further explains, all anger you had dissipating as quickly as it came.

“I wouldn’t have been uncomfortable.” You respond.

“Also was afraid once I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop. I’ve been watching you all night, staring at me with those eyes. Like you want me to drag you upstairs to an empty room and fuck you. Been walking around with a hard on all night, waiting till we can be alone.” He lets out a sheepish laugh, adjusting him self as your eyes are wide. You’ve been with a few partners before, none of which had such a dirty mouth as Eddie. Constantly out doing himself on the naughty words that leave his mouth.

“I was not staring at you like that.” You lie, grinning playfully swatting his shoulder. His laugh only grows, throwing his arm around you. You rest your tired drunken head, into his embrace.

“You’re a shit liar. Tell me what you want.”

“You. I don’t want to this.. us to be a secret anymore.” You admit, looking up at him while his arm is still stretched over your shoulder.

“Yeah?” He asks as he looks down on you.

“Yeah. I want to be the prettiest girl in the room.” You say with no filter. Admitting your drunken insecurities outloud, cringing as soon as it leaves your mouth.

“You are always the prettiest girl in any room. Only now you’ll be my prettiest girl, okay?” He says pressing a simple sweet kiss to your forehead. You nod in response, the biggest grin plastered on your face as if you weren’t sobbing moments ago.

“I think I need to fuck you so good that you forget about that kiss.” He whispers, his lips only a few inches away from yours.

“I think so too.” You say, before closing the distance. Pressing your lips to his, kissing him tenderly. His lips move with yours, as your hands find the back of his neck pulling him closer. Without thinking about it you slowly lower the two of you until he’s on top of you. Smiling and lettting out a giggle into the kiss as your back hits the cold wet wood of the porch.

“What’s so funny?” He pulls away, just enough to break the kiss.

“The way I was about ready to let you have your way with me outside on this porch. Can we go somewhere else?” You ask, looking up at him while he’s staring at your lips.

He rolls his eyes, getting up off you and standing up. Eddie reaches his hand out to which you take letting him help you up. He leads you back into the house, through the crowd of people. You’re too busy watching the man you’re with to notice the stares. Your man.

He leads you up some stairs, pushing through several people waiting for the restroom to a dark empty bedroom. He pushes you inside, following closely behind. While you take a few steps in he locks the door. When you turn to face him he’s already standing near you, looking down on you.

“How’d I get so lucky?” Eddie says as pulls you closer, his arms find their way to under your thighs. Picking you up in one swift motion.

“So fucking beautiful and all mine.” He gently sets you on the bed, never letting go. He’s on top of you, looking at you with so much more than just lust.

“All yours.” You respond, your hands already working on taking his shirt off.

“So eager.” He laughs, pulling it off the rest of the way.

You watch in anticipation as he undresses himself. Once he’s full naked and ready, he’s tugging at your pants. You lift your hips to help him as he slips them off. After a few moments you’re both naked and he’s dropping to his knees. His arms under your legs pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. His face a few inches away from your glistening cunt.

“I love the way you’re always so ready for me. Always so wet.” He murmurs, kissing your inner thigh.

Without hesitation his mouth dips into your folds, finding your most sensitive spot. Kissing it lightly before applying more pressure. Your hand find his hair, your hips tighten as your mouth lets sweet moans leave it. Letting him know he’s doing a good job. His tongue plays with your clit, as his finger slips into your hole. A loud moan leaves your mouth at the new sensation.

He continues, his motivation is the sinful sounds that come from your lips. He hears you say more somewhere in the mix of moans and curse words. So he adds another finger, pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. His mouth still tactfully working on your bud. He knows exactly what he’s doing and how to get you to your climax. The squeezing of your walls, lets him know you are close.

“Don’t stop.” You mutter pulling on his hair, as an attempt to pull him closer. Your hips moving with his face, nearly riding it in an attempt to finish. Eddie moves faster, just enough to cause you to come undone. Releasing all over his fingers. He slows his movements until they come to a halt as he pulls away.

“You always taste so good. Do you wanna taste?” He ask as he stands up, his two fingers finding their way to your mouth.You nod yes in response, opening your mouth enough so he can set them on your tongue. You taste yourself while never breaking eye contact even when he pulls them from your mouth.

“Fuck you’re such a good girl.” Eddie groans, pulling you back to the edge of the bed.

He raises one of your legs with one hand, the other hand aligning his cock to your hole. As he slowly, inch by inch fills you up he’s grabbing your other leg. Both of them in the air and supported by Eddie as he bottoms out inside of you. You whimper at the stretch and the feeling of being full. His hips start to move, slow motions as he fucks you. Painfully slow, you need more.

It’s like he can read your minds because before you can ask, he’s pounding into you at a brutal pace. You’re a moaning mess under him, your legs being pushed wider as he fucks you harder. The only sounds is your moans, his grunting and the sound of skin slapping. Your pussy is so wet it’s loud as he goes in and out of you. The muffled sounds of the party down stairs is barley heard theough the door. Everyone upstairs can most certainly hear but in the moment you couldn’t care less.

“Fuck, you take me so good. It’s like your pussy was made for my cock.” He stammers as he attempts to talk while sinking in and out of your wet, warm core.

He continues to speak his mind, letting all his thoughts flow out without a filter. His movements never stop, desperate to please you and please himself in the process. He’s pushing you deeper into the bed with every single thrust. Your hands find their way to his back, as he pressed himself closer to you. Kissing you hungrily as his hips continue to roll into you. Your hands scratch into his back, leaving marks in their tracks. He groans as a response, into your lips as you two kiss.

You start to feel that familiar coiling tension. Your fluttering walls let Eddie know that you’re coming close to your climax. He continues the same pace, pulling his face away from yours so he can watch you come undone. His favorite thing to witness and be the cause of. Your back arches as the tensions finally snaps. Your walks tighten as you come all over his cock.

Which is enough to push him over the edge, he pulls himself out leaving you empty. Without missing a beat he grips his dick, pumping it roughly. Allowing himself to finish on your stomach. When he’s done, he’s pressing a sweet breathy kiss to your lips before stumbling around in the dark to find something to clean up the mess he made.You lay there for a moment before feeling him wipe you clean. When he’s sure as he can be that he got it all, he throws it across the room.

“Eddie you can’t just..” Your own words cut off as you start to wonder whose room you two just fucked in.

“Whose room is this?” You question as he helps you get dressed again. As he pulls your shirt down over your head, he’s laughing.

“Jason Carvers.” He speaks, you look around for the first time and it’s most definitely a basketball players room.

“You didn’t.. we didn’t.” You reply, suddenly in a hurry to get dressed and back to the party. Moving his hands off you so he can get himself dressed.

“We did.” He grins, pulling his jeans on.

“Eddie..” You groan his name out but it doesn’t last long. His smile bringing you to smile.

Once you’re both dressed, he’s pressing another kiss to your lips. He grabs your hand and gently leads you out of the bedroom, praying that no one is sober enough to remember Eddie and you going into Jason’s room. Only to met with several pairs of eyes, not so silently watching and judging you. Eddie doesn’t seem to care, so you pretend to not notice. Following him back downstairs, to the couch where he was sat early.

“Eddie.. I want to go to yours. Can we leave?” You say stopping him before he can take a seat.

“Give me like thirty minutes to sober up. I’m not nearly as intoxicated as you are…” He teases.

“But I did drink a little bit. We can leave soon, okay?” He says as he sits down, pulling you into his lap. You have the cheesiest smile plastered on your lips. He’s acting as if it’s just another day, like this is a totally normal occurrence between the two of you. Like everyone in this room didn’t just watch him kiss his ex as a dare.

“Okay.” You nod, that smile still shining.

“You’re so cute and so drunk.” He whispers softly, his lips inches away from yours.

“And?” You question.

“And you’re so mine.” He says matter of factly.

“And?” You question again, eyes brows raised. Knowing what your tipsy self wants to hear. As you smile waiting, he looks lost but you see it click in his eyes before he rolls them.

“And you’re the prettiest girl in the room.” He lets out a soft chuckle before kissing you unapologetically. You kiss him back, drunkenly unaware of the eyes on you two and the gossip beginning to spread around the two of you. Nothing could ruin this moment for you.

[adelliet]

Marcus Acacius x f!reader

FORBIDDEN DESIRE

Summary: Your father's friend has returned to his hometown after a few years, and you finally met him, but despite your father's clear warning, you are dominated by desire rather than reason.

Warning: MDNI 18+, age gap (17 years and 40 years), unprotected sex (p i v), fingering, oral sex (f! receiving), handjob,

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You came to the kitchen door and waited for the guards to open it. When they did, you gently knelt down as a gratitude and then sidled up to the room. There was a table, full of sweet buns, grape wine and various types of fruit or pastries. On the end of the table sat your mother and father, laughing and drinking liquid from an iron cup. You'd bet all your gold that the liquid is a red wine, that your parents love so much.

As soon as they saw you, all their attention landed on you. You wished them good morning with a smile on your face and put one sweet bun on your plate. "How did you sleep darling?" your father asked with a sweet tone in his voice.

"Good" you answered firmly, but keep trying to stay nice and keep a warm smile on your face. This answer of yours may have been sufficient for your father, but certainly not for your mother. Mother senses are way more powerful than father's, as is known.

"Is everything okay sunshine?" this time your mother asked, bothering you from eating in quiet and peace. You chewed the bun and nod, not even looking at them. You were so focused on your plate that you didn't even have time to look anywhere else.

After your movement, which indicated that everything was supposedly fine, there was a moment of silence. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of cutlery occasionally touching the plate. An awkward silence began to spread through the air very quickly, and even the guards at the door began to chat among themselves.

The silence was suddenly broken by your father's inconspicuous cough, which was followed by a question you prayed you wouldn't hear for at least a day. ,,And what about men?" Did you find anyone that could be your future husband and follow my lead?"

Your lips left a long loud sigh. "Not yet father" this time, your voice was bitterly cold, you were obviously showing how you don't like this topic and how it makes you uncomfortable.

"Darling, you'll be a woman soon, your mother was getting married at your age and look where she is now!" Your father kept trying to cajole you and force you into marriage, but this was the last thing on your mind. "Trapped with a man?" you answered, making your father lost words and your mother's face cringe in anger. "I am not trapped sweetheart-" "Oh really? So you can go whenever you want wherever you want?"

You raised your voice a bit, but just enough to make the atmosphere thick. Your mother started boiling with anger, and you really make it difficult for her to stay calm and in her character. "Young lady, be careful with your words-" and just when your mother wanted to calm things down, you bursted out.

"You think this is what I want?" Live for marriage and forget what freedom feels like? You think I live just for men?!" You got up from your seat and slapped your hands aggressively on the table. "You're a woman!" You will never know what freedom feels like! The only thing you will have is your husband's safety!"

The words came out of your mother's mouth as easily as if she had been preparing for this moment years ago. They were sharp without any sweetness, making you froze in a place, not moving a single muscle. When you looked at your dad, he was just as shocked as you. Your mother still had that angry look on her face as she yelled at you the words that would wake you up from your sleep and haunt you in your worst nightmares.

After a few more seconds, your mom finally realizes what she has done, as she looked over to her husband. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, but before she could say something, one of the guards rushed into the kitchen with a simple words ,,He's here".

Your parents immediately stood up from their seats and looked over to the open door. Your dad looked excited and so did your mom. You were so confused. Who is he and why was his presence so quick to please your mother and father?

There were so many questions running through your head, and like everyone else, you were eagerly looking at the door, waiting to see who would appear. It didn't take long before you finally saw him.

A tall, large man stopped as soon as he got inside. His iron armor clung beautifully to his massive body, and the parts of his skin that could be seen were covered in blood. His hair was black and wavy, looking as fine as sheep's wool. His beard beautifully accentuated his masculine cheekbones and the gray particles only added charm. His look was frowning and stiff until he saw your parents.

At that moment, he raised his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth lifted. He called your father's name, deep husky voice that sends shivers down your spine. He opened his arms and your father ran towards him. They locked arms together and slapped each other on the back.

You just stared at them breathlessly, still unanswered questions drowning in your head. Before long you felt a gentle hand landing on your shoulder. "Marcus..." your mother said quietly as she kept her eyes on them. You looked over to see her calm face. "Best friend of your father..." now this was the answer you wanted to hear.

After the two finally pulled away from each other, the man's eyes landed on you. The smile on his face slowly faded away and he barely blinked. You held eye contact and even though you were standing quite far away from him, you could feel goosebumps rising all over your skin. His brown eyes looked so kind yet hungry at the same time.

"Marcus…" your mother finally stopped you and you looked down, coughing discreetly. Marcus also woke up back on planet earth and greeted your mother with the sweet smile he had before.

"We missed you" your mother said after she pulled away and held his massive strong arms. "You too, my favorite people" he said, looking into your moms face, unlike you, you couldn't take your eyes off Marcus.

It was as if the whole area became silent and everything was blurry, except for him. Your head automatically filled with million scenarios and you had to take a deep breath to breathe in the presence of this warrior. You scan his body and scars, pity began to flow through your body and you wanted to heal his every wound.

After a while your mother finally looked in your direction with Marcus and you froze in place. His gaze made you feel a vibrating feeling between your legs and you couldn't tell if you liked it or not.

"That's our daughter" your father noticed the awkward silence and decided to introduce the two of you. As Marcus made his way over to you, the vibration became more intense and you trembled like a bird. Marcus noticed your nervous attitude so he decided to, to calm you down a bit by grabbing your hand and gently kissing it, looking at you the whole time and honestly turning you on even more.

"My pleasure to finally meet you" he said as he let go of your hand and popped his chest like a proud lion. Finally? What does he mean? You've never heard of this man and you've never seen him, you would definitely remember that.

Marcus noticed your confused expression and immediately looked over to your father for an explanation, but he didn't do anything to explain it to you, he just decided to move on to another topic. As always.

"After all these years," he approached Marcus again, grabbing his strong arms and looking at him proudly. You kind of wish he would look at you like that one day, ,,…we need to throw a welcome soiree!" He screams so loudly, that the echo reverberated throughout the hall to the second tower.

Marcus was just smiling and you could tell it wasn't a sincere smile. Your mother immediately joined in and nodded in agreement. As soon as they finished talking, everyone started decorating the kitchen and making arrangements for meals.

You didn't want to oblige anyone, since you wouldn't be much help anyway, so you just snuck away to your room. When you walked past Marcus, who was having fun with your dad, his smell was indescribable. You've never felt anything like this from a man before. It evoked dominance, lust and respect, a respect that not just anyone deserves, but Marcus does.

As soon as you closed the door behind you and entered your room, the first and only thing you could think of was Marcus. How divine his body must be under all that armor, how strong his hands must be from all that warfare, how his fingers must be trained from his handling of the sword.

Just the image of him makes your legs shake and your stomach felt weird suddenly…weirdly good. You sat on the bed and just stared out the window, thoughts of Marcus still lingering and your imagination was much wilder than before.

You lay down on the bed with a loud groan and closing your eyes, as you bounce a few times on the mattress. You had no idea what was going on, with your head and your body. You couldn't even tell if you like it or not, the only thing you knew one hundred percent was, that these feelings are just because of Marcus.

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There were only a few hours left before the party started. All this time you tried to sleep and run away from all those new and scary feelings, but it still didn't work. You couldn't fall asleep and when you were really close to it, Marcus would always appear in front of you, even with your eyes closed. That's why you just lay there, staring at the ceiling and letting it all eat you up. When the hour finally approached, you were so relieved.

You heard muffled talking from behind the kitchen and decided it was time to leave. You opened your wardrobe and immediately knew what to wear. You've never worn these before, not because you didn't like them, but your father didn't like them and you know very well why.

They are way too revealing, but you think that he wouldn't say anything about them today, he wouldn't want to sink you in front of his best friend, right? With a devilish smile, you placed them on the bed and suddenly heard a knock on the door. You said open in a soft tone, looking at the door. Very slowly they cracked open and there was none other than your dad inside. He carefully closed it behind him and leaned against it.

You could tell by his face that he looked quite worried. You didn't want to anger him even more so you discreetly stood in front of the bed to cover that provocative dress. “Is everything okay father?” you asked, trying to figure out what was going on. He took a deep breath and looked at you. “I need to talk to you…about Marcus”

Your eyes widened a bit but not too much. It's quite understandable that he'll chat with you about him and maybe even explain why Marcus said he was finally happy to meet you, even though you've never heard of him. "I saw the way you look at each other and this must never happen" he didn't wait another second and spewed this at you.

You frowned at his naivety and the fact that you could have something more with Marcus. After all, you are still young bud, while he is a man of experience and has been through so much...yet this is not reason enough to erase him from your mind.

"Are you serious?" you asked your father arrogantly, folding your shoulders to your chest. "Yes, I'm serious honey. You know, Marcus is not the man for you" his voice sounded so convincing but you still didn't believe him. "You are the one who asks me about men every morning and when one comes along, you ban him?!" you raised your voice a little and threw your hands around. It just doesn't make any sense.

Your father looks down and took another deep breath. "Marcus Acacius is a warrior, a gladiator. He wouldn't have time for you and at the same time you would worry if he would survive. Also, his reputation with women is not flattering, even though he's the same age as me, he doesn't want to settle down. He loves freedom and fun, but you need someone who knows his priorities, do you understand?"

You were surprised by all of this information. Marcus definitely looks like a gladiator, but that's not the thing that scared you the most. His reputation with women? After all, he doesn't look like a man who would pay just for the experience and relief with a woman...or does he?

You tried to find the words to answer, but you couldn't think of anything. You had nothing in your head, just one man who seems like a poor old whore. Your father noticed your shock and even felt a little sorry for you. "Look, I only want the best for you, but Marcus just isn't the best" his words drove more and more wounds into your heart. It painted evil qualities into your imagination and even though everything seemed rosy after Marcus arrived, now is black and white and much worse.

"Do me a favor" your father slowly finished his monologue. "Stay away from Marcus" and with that he left your room leaving you completely devastated and destroyed. You felt tears running down your face but immediately wiped them away with your hand. A young lady like you can't cry, and certainly not because of a man. You didn't care about men until now, so how come you care so much about Marcus? You're not in love after all, are you?

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You walked into the main room where the party was being held. Everyone was already here, having fun and laughing, the music in the background pleasantly vibrated your eardrums and you tried to focus only on fun and freedom, nothing and no one else.

Even though your dad gave you a strict ban on any interaction with Marcus, you wore your sexy dress. After all, you have to use this opportunity one way or another. Of course, in that dress you immediately had the attention of almost all men and women.

It was eerily quiet for a moment when you walked in, even the music stopped playing. You don't like being the center of attention, so you tried to think of something to stop it. You slowly knelt down to greet and it really worked, the music started playing again and everyone was talking with each other. Sometimes, however, some would whisper in their ear while looking at you, but you tried your best to ignore them.

You came to the table with food and picked one grape berry. “Really interesting taste-” you heard a gruff wolf's voice from your right and quickly turned in that direction. Marcus looked even better than he did in the morning, he was well groomed, wearing a gorgeous white robe with gold accessories and his arms still looked so eatable. However, Marcus' words were stopped by another manly voice from the left, which was already familiar to you. "What do you think you're doing?!" your father was downright furious, looking you up and down. When you turned to look at him and revealed that Marcus was standing behind you, your father miraculously calmed down.

Marcus and you waited for your dad's next words. He was trapped, and that was exactly what you hoped would happen. You could feel how much he wanted to yell at you and scold you, but he can't show such an aggressive side of himself in front of his best friend, even at a party in front of hundreds of guests.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Marcus, come with me for a moment" he said and turned around thinking that Marcus was already following him. He looked a little surprised but the mischievous smile still remained on his face. As he passed by you, he gave you a subtle wink and you had a close enough to pass out on the spot. Who would have thought that a mere wink would almost give out your knees?

You watched as your dad pulled Marcus into a corner and said something to him. You could just see Marcus' face expression and couldn't hear what they are talking about. Sometimes he looked at you, but you couldn't describe what was going through his mind or what your dad was saying to him, you could only guess.

"That dress looks good on you" you heard a familiar female voice next to you. Your mother was looking in the same direction as you, but she was smiling. Her compliment only comforted you for a moment as you were still paying attention to the two men.

You let out an exhausted sigh and popped another berry into your mouth. "Marcus is a good man, honest and strong. You would be really safe with him" your mother's words caught you by surprise as she was of a different opinion than your father's. "But dad-" you wanted to say that just the thought of you and Marcus being together was destroying him but your mother interrupted you.

,,I know. He is worried about you, after all you are still young and Marcus is too old for you. You have to understand him, he's doing it for you" she patted your shoulders and walked away to her friends. She left you alone again and you were even more confused than before. You didn't know what to think about all this. Everything started to be suddenly too loud, the music and people's conversation gave you a headache and you had to get away quickly before you passed out.

You quickly stepped outside into the fresh air, trying to catch your breath. You leaned against the wall and all your emotions suddenly came out. Tears fell from your eyes one by one and you couldn't stop it. You wanted to run away, scream, you just wanted to be relaxed and free, but these are apparently too big demands. You sat down on the ground and curled up into a ball, hoping no one will find you in that state. What would they think of you?

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You have no idea how much time has passed since you ran out. But you don't care as long as no one is looking for you. You felt good, the cool wind blew through your hair and pleasantly refreshed your skin. Still sitting on the ground, you had your eyes closed and tried to focus only on the nature and the sound of the birds, even though it was quite difficult since you couldn't hear through the music and the sound from the party.

Suddenly you heard footsteps and in no time you were back on your feet. Chest popping, back straight and chin up. You were waiting for someone to show up around the corner. You expected your father, who is sure to be furious, or your mother, who is calmer but still worried. To your surprise, it wasn't neither of them.

"Where did you evaporate?" Marcus asked standing in front of you so he could finally get a better look at you in that unique dress. You opened your eyes in horror and your words got stuck in your throat. "I-I…" you tried to create a meaningful sentence, but how could you, when you were standing in front of the most handsome man you have ever seen in your entire life.

He noticed your struggling and couldn't help but giggle a bit. "Why are you nervous little dove?" he asked so softly, that the tone of his voice went through your every vein. The weird vibrating feeling between your legs started again, and you couldn't help but put your thighs closer. ,,I needed some fresh air" you finally whined in a shaky and low voice, but still trying to keep your attitude and show that you are not so nervous at all, but the truth was different.

"Understandable" he nodded his head and the corner of his mouth lifted. He stared at you for a moment until he joined you. He stands next to you, leaning against the wall watching the scenery with you. Even though it was quiet, you loved his presence next to you. You felt the feeling of security that every woman longs for.

"You don't want to enjoy the celebration?" you finally broke the ice and asked with all your courage, but you were still too nervous to look at him. "No, although it's surprising, I don't really like attention" he breathed out and you were quite surprised by his answers. ,,Really? Father was saying something else...” you said the second part of the sentence more quietly but Marcus heard you, despite the soft chatter.

,,Indeed?" you could feel his eyes on you, but you still tried really hard to keep your cool and not look at him, even tho you really wanted. His scent was so irresistible and you lost yourself for a moment, before the long silence slapped you on the head. ,, "Oh yes, he said you like to enjoy freedom and fun, even...with women" you weren't sure if you were supposed to mention the women, but somehow it just came out of your mouth without you being able to control it.

He scoffed and let out a small laugh. Now it was the perfect time to look at him. You saw his head shaking, like he doesn't believe what he just heard. "It's a surprise that I don't know about it myself" you frowned incomprehendingly and waited for an explanation.

When your eyes met, your heart skipped a beat and you stopped breathing. You saw his eyes up close and they were so lovely, just like his hair, face, beard, body...you were so obsessed with him. Is it even allowed to be so obsessed with a man you barely know and your father forbade him? Definitely not.

"Your father said things to protect you, to make you think bad things about me" This was exactly the answer you were hoping for, that it was all just a fabrication and that Marcus was a good innocent man. "Oh" you said and looked down at your feet. "And apparently he told you to stay away from me, am I right?" Marcus touched your arm softly, just by two fingers to make you look at him again, and it worked. He looked like a sad puppy who deserved to be scratched.

You just nodded in agreement, eliciting a soft sigh from Marcus. "He told me that too..." he slightly pushed himself away from the wall and stood in front of you again, this time much closer. Your back hit the wall and you were pinned to it, as Marcus stood only a few millimeters away from you, your chests almost touching. Your heart rate increased and your breathing quickened, your cheeks began to heat up and the vibration was much stronger than ever before.

"He specifically forbade me to have anything to do with you..." Marcus continued and his finger ran over your skin, from wrist, to upper arms, to your shoulders, stopping at your collarbones where he just make small circles. This was your first physical interaction with a man, and despite how scared you were of it, you melted at Marcus' touch.

His other hand gently squeezed your waist, making you gasp a bit by the surprise. He pulled you closer to his body, now you were definitely touching each other and you could feel something poking you into your thigh. You wanted to look what it was, but Marcus hypnotized you with his gaze and you just couldn't take your eyes off him.

"But I can't help it" and with these words he leaned closer to your face, your noses were touching and both of you were waiting to see who would kiss the other first. The situation was tense, you didn't notice anything or anyone around but Marcus and his warm breath against your wet lips.

You took a deep breath and the movement almost forced your lips to touch his, but it didn't. You were still waiting, Marcus' hands were now firmly on your hips and he had full control of you, he could do whatever he wanted with you, and you would let him without any word.

You were frozen but you fought so hard not to kiss him. Why? Because you really liked this game. You like all of this and want as much of it as possible. But Marcus is patient enough and as much as he wanted to break the barriers too, he didn't, instead he did something much hotter.

He released one hand from your waist and slowly slid it under your dress. You whined at the sigh of his touch, his massive hands surrounded almost your entire thigh. You were still face to face, noses touching but still no kiss, just touches. Really dangerous touches. He didn't stop in his journey under your dress and continued higher and higher, just where your throbbing cunt was.

You groan and moan, but quietly to not let someone caught you. Marcus loves how his touch drives you crazy, but you still had no idea what came next. When he finally found your sweet spot where you needed him touch you so badly, he didn't hesitate any second and insert one of his fingers into you. You throw your head back, breaking your kiss game but you didn't care.

The pleasure was indescribable. You saw sounds and felt colors, you bit your bottom lip to silence your heckling and crying, but it still didn't quite work. The way he curled his finger inside you made you wild, your legs shaking and your mind went dizzy. You immediately dug your fingers into his strong muscles for the better posture.

,,Marcus~”

You moan as he sped up his pace. He didn't take his eyes off you. You looked so beautiful like that, so weak, so hopeless. Just when you thought it couldn't get any better, Marcus added his thumb, making tiny circles around your clit. You've never experienced that pleasure like this before. You fight for your life not to scream his name and to stay on your feet.

He was stretching your walls while provoking your wet tiny friend, which if you just lightly touch, it will wreak havoc in your body. You felt the urge to go to pee, to burst everything that is inside you out, you were just so close to your orgasm. You had no idea what was going on, what it was, or why Marcus was so good at it, but all you could focus on was him and his fingers inside you, that were driving you crazy.

You looked at him as a guardian angel who would free you from the tense feeling that had accumulated in you over the years. Marcus knew you were on edge, your hole wrapped tightly around his finger and your legs automatically joined together. He smiled and continued in his motion, till you finally came onto his finger. A load moan came out of your mouth and your heart was beating at an incredible speed.

You opened your eyes and looked at Marcus, all sweaty and tired but relaxed. You both laughed for a moment and you wanted to rest until you heard quick footsteps coming your way. You didn't even have time to thank Marcus when you saw your dad and the guards emerging from the edge of the wall.

Marcus quickly let go of you and stepped aside, but you weren't sure if your father saw you so close to him or not. What you saw, however, was an enraged father who was boiling with anger.

He watched the two of you for a moment before he ordered the guards to take you back and grabbed Marcus by the shoulder. "Dad it's not what-" you wanted to save it, but it was too late for any words now. "I'll meet you at the party" he said and walked away with Marcus. You kept watched them, until the guards grabbed your arms and dragged you back to the celebration. You tried to break free from their grip, but it was impossible.

"Next time, you should obey your father's orders," said one of the guards, and you looked at him concerned. You wanted to say something to him, but you were already at the place. They let you go and closed the door, at which they then stood.

Shocked by the whole situation, you just stood there watching all the people having fun. Before long, your mother came to you, hugging you tightly and stroking your head. "Sweetheart, do you know how worried we were about you?" with tears in her eyes, she still didn't let go of her embrace. "You barely noticed I was gone" you replied arrogantly and gently pushed your mother away. You felt sorry for her, but right now, fury was controlling over pity.

You angrily walked over to the food table and stuffed one berry after another into your mouth as if you hadn't eaten in a month. After a while, the door you came through opened and your father and Marcus walked in. They were both smiling, even though you knew they weren't just talking outside. When Marcus noticed you, he gave you an apologetic look before walking to the other side of the hall. The only thing on your mind right now was a question, why is life so unfair?

"Hey easy there sweetheart" a manly voice pulled you away from staring at Marcus and you immediately turned to the direction the voice was coming from. A tall man with brown hair and a beard, he looked slimy and even smelled like that. Just his presence so close to you bothered you. You ignored him and ate a few more berries before he talked to you again, "Are you in a hurry or just really hungry?" he laughed like it was the best joke of the year. You just rolled your eyes in annoyance and wiped your hands into your dress. "Actually yes, I'm in hurry. Pleasure to meet you" you politely avoided him and quickly rushed to the other door, the one that lead to your room. You quickly opened them and breathed a sigh of relief as you were in the hallway, only to find the man was following you.

"Come on angel, we barely know each other" he said and still followed you. "I'm sorry but I'm not interested" you still politely rejected the man again and quickly walked towards your room. But that didn't stop him. You don't even know how, but suddenly he was right behind you, grabbing your wrist and pressed you against the wall. You started to panic.

"Please let me go!" you begged and hoped he would stop. You had a million scenarios in your head of what would happen, what he wants from you or what he will do to you. But his look says it all, he doesn't want to just talk to you. "You'll love it, don't worry" he said with a sickening smile on his face and started to undo the waistband of his pants. You started to cry and you knew that screaming for help was futile. He could strangle you with his hand or just cover your mouth and no one would be able to hear your cry for help. This is not how you imagined the loss of virginity, this is not how you wanted it.

Just when it seemed like this was going to be the most traumatic day of your life, Marcus burst into the hallway. You both turned your head to look at him and you finally had hope. You smiled but you were the only one. Marcus worried face transformed into furious in a second, as he saw that man standing too close to you, and your eyes full of tears.

"Get lost!" We have our moment here!" The moldy sweaty man yelled at Marcus, thinking he was really going to let us go. Of course he didn't. "If you don't let her go now, you'll face the consequences" he warned the man as he slowly approached to you. As if every step of his made you feel more and more happy and relieved.

"Jesus Christ just leave us alone idiot!" Marcus ran out of patience and ran after the man. He grabbed him by the shirt and forced him to back up to the other side of the hall, directly across from you, where he pinned him to the wall.

"Now listen to me carefully, you touch her one more time and you won't have such a clean face after that, is that clear to you?" you watched Marcus warn the man and you really respected him. When Marcus gets angry, he can be really scary. The bastard didn't say anything, he just looked at Marcus in horror and didn't know what to do.

"Is it clear?!" Marcus shook him aggressively and the man immediately nodded his head. He must shit his pants right now. "Now get lost!" he ordered and finally let him go. The guy didn't wait for anything and ran back to the door as he fastened his belt. When Marcus and you looked in his direction, you saw your dad watching you. Neither of you noticed him until now, you had no idea how long he had been standing there staring at you, but apparently long enough for him to change his mind about Marcus.

Your father came over to Marcus who thought he was in trouble again but instead of yelling he got a warm hug. Marcus was confused just as you were, but it was a nice picture to see them hugging again. After a while, your father finally released Marcus from his arms, admiring him with a smile. "I was wrong. I acted immaturely and rashly” came out of your fathers words and you were just shocked. "You are perfect for my daughter.”

With those words, you and Marcus smiled and you quickly ran towards them. ,,Are you serious father?” You asked incredulously, but your father nodded. "Yes, even though your age is intimidating, you can protect her and that's all that matters” You looked excitedly at Marcus and he looked back at you. "Thank you," Marcus added, giving your father one last smile before looking at you and kissing you without any warning. It was a long, passionate kiss that said a lot more than I love you. It said I want you.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Celebration of Marcus return was over, and the two of you just couldn't wait anymore. You were in your room, lips glued together and small moans leaving your mouth. The kisses were so wet, hungry and full of lust, that you had. "From the moment I saw you" Marcus said quickly between the kisses, trying to catch his breath. During this he slowly forced you backing up until your feet hit the bed frame. "I wanted you".

He said before gently pushing you onto the bed, making you bounce a bit. You smiled at his flirtatious words before his lips touched yours again, both of your saliva mixing together, making an amazing tasteful fluid. His tongue pushing into your mouth so roughly, almost choking you.

His hands traveled all over your body until he finally found the buttons of your dress, which he immediately used and very aggressively removed them, almost destroying them. You gasped as the cool fresh air touched your naked skin and Marcus needed a minute to admire your body.

“Where have you been all this time?” he asked desperately and immediately lunged after you again, his male instincts running wild as he grab your breast and squeezed, making you whine his name really loudly. You were in holy heaven, every touch of his on your body turned you on more and more and just the thought of how he had made you feel before, drives you crazy.

"You've never touched yourself, did you?" he whispered in your ear while slowly driving his finger down to your hole. You couldn't answer him, just a quiet whine came out of you. "Don't worry, that's why I am here for" he said before he put a finger inside you, your back arching and you firmly grab the pillows on the bed.

,,Oh my god~”

You groan and look at Marcus, totally crazy about your moves. Your hips were automatically moving against Marcus' hand, trying to bring more friction. He did as your body wanted, and added another finger, stretching your walls and making your fluid leak a bit.

Your moans were a lullaby for Marcus ears, making sure that he is doing his job well. His fingers teasing the inside of you, the juicy sound echoed throughout the room. But suddenly, he stopped and pulled out his fingers from you. You sighed at the loss, confused and overwhelmed. You looked at Marcus, watching him what he is doing. He knelt in front of the bed with a devilish grin on his face and moved you closer to him. More specifically, your vagina closer to your face.

“W-what are you doing?” you asked, leaning your elbows on the bed so you could see Marcus over your body. "Relax, trust me" he said and you did. You really trust Marcus, and definitely after he stood up for you. No one, no man, no human ever did something like that for you. You respect him a lot, but even more now that he's sticking his tongue inside you. You suddenly winced and grunted. His wet tongue entered into you so lightly, it was like a natural lubricant.

Instinctively, you grabbed Marcus's wavy hair and tugged on it as he slid his tongue in and out of you, making you whine his name. He kept his eyes on you, watching you as his victim, which you were in this situation. He held your hips so you wouldn't move too much and have the full experience as it should be.

His nose bumping into your clitoris from time to time, making your vision blurry. You heard the ringing for a moment and all your senses stopped. The only thing you could feel was Marcus's tongue inside you, touching you that spongy spot, which is making you getting close to realise.

After a few more movements of Marcus' tongue inside you, you couldn't take it anymore and you came right into Marcus' mouth. You gasped, trying to catch a breath as your legs shook. Marcus drinks all of your juices and you ride the orgasms off by his big nose.

You close your eyes, trying to calm yourself and your body down, while Marcus stands up from his position and gets on top of you. He knew how tired and exhausted you are, so he wanted you to catch a little break. He was giving you sweet little kisses all over your body and most often on your tummy, making you laugh a little. "Relaxed?" he asked and you jerked your head up to look at him. "There is more?" you asked in shock and Marcus just smiled at your innocence.

He nodded and crawled more up, so that he was face to face with you. His muscular body covered you all over, his scent tickling your olfactory cells. You just caressed his face. You felt his beard gently scratching you against your palm. It didn't hurt, on the contrary, it was pleasant.

“Are you ready for true passion?” He hummed and you looked at him in shock. You probably knew what he was pointing out, but you still weren't sure. You nodded your head a little apprehensively, but Marcus immediately calmed you down with a passionate kiss.

It wasn't long before Marcus' clothes were on the ground. You didn't care where, the main thing was that it was gone and you could finally feel his hot body on you. You couldn't help it and your hand traveled all over his body, your brain trying to remember every part of him, muscle, abs or just mole. He was perfect.

As the two of you kept touching yourself with hands, you felt something really big poking your inner thigh, dangerously close to your core. You slightly and gently moved Marcus away from you to take a look, what is it that provokes you so much. Your eyes nearly fell out of their sockets at the sight of Marcus' cock. He was big, massive and literally begging to fuck you already.

His precum already leaving from his pink tip, his veins were really filled and all you wanted to do was touch him, which you did without permission. You gently touched him with your fingers and Marcus immediately responded with a soft exhale. "Careful" he warned you, watching your hand on his penis. You took Marcus's warning to heart and followed his veins really gently with your index finger.

"You know what to do?" another heavy exhale from his lips, and you stopped to look at Marcus's face. You shook your head, a little afraid that he would laugh at you, but that didn't happen. Instead he took your hand and helped show you how. He carefully covered your hand and forced you to wrap yours around his cock. Your touch really turned him on but he had to hold back. "That's it, now you're gonna do this" he started moving your hand slowly, up and down with a slow pace. You quickly check Marcus face, that was squeezed and his teeth were dug into his lower lip.

"Perfect, clever girl..." he whine softly and throw his head back. You continued in the motion that he shows you, really focused while checking his face from time to time. You could tell that he likes it, but you wanted him to love it. You decided to speed up a bit and wrap your hand more tightly around him. He moaned your name, gods name and just sweet things you couldn't even register. One of his hand was on your waist, squeezing it, making you jump a bit.

"Oh my..." he moaned, digging his fingers into your skin while his lap was rocking against your hand. "Fuck!" He screamed and reached his climax, spraying a white gooey liquid all over your stomach. You were horrified but in a good way, you liked these new things you were exploring more and more.

After Marcus finally came to his senses, he smiled at you and stroked your cheek. "You learn fast little dove" you giggle by that cute nickname and your cheeks were so hot suddenly. "But we are still not done yet" and with these words he slowly began to insert his cock into you. You knew it was big but no one prepared you for this pain. But Marcus was a respectful man and always waited for the pain to pass and then he continued. This was repeated a few times until he was finally fully inside you.

He kept saying nice things to you to calm you down mentally and physically and it really helped. When he was 100% sure that you were fine and ready, he slowly began to move his hips back and forth. The pain immediately turned into pleasure, his cock slightly brushing your folds and it make you wanted more. You started moving your hips along his, giving him a clear sign that you are ready for more. Therefore, he quickened his pace and his emphasis as well.

His balls were clapping against your ass, the juice sound started being loud again but not as loud as your moans and gasps. You clawed at Marcus's back with your fingernails, they must left a bloody mess. Marcus was squeezing your hips so hard that he was sure to leave some bruise there, but neither of you cared.

He was stretching you so hard, finding and hitting that sponge spot again, and you immediately knew you won't last long. You felt so tight, like someone was strangling you down there and in your lower abdomen until Marcus exploded and rammed deep into you all the way to his balls. This was your last straw and just seconds after his orgasm you reached it too.

A few dirty words were exchanged until Marcus collapsed next to you. Both of you were tired, exhausted, sweaty and struggling to catch your breath. You felt amazing, this was the best thing you could ever experience and you can thank Marcus for that.

You turn your head towards him, his eyes were closed and his nostrils big. He was sleepy already but you weren't surprised, you were also ready to fall asleep. You crawled closer to Marcus, waking him up a bit. He immediately assumed his position as a caring partner and covered you both with a blanket. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer to him and you purred appreciatively. "You're amazing darling" he whispered and placed a soft kiss into your hair. If this is the security that your father was talking about, then you have more than enough.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

[vapekingg]

could i request playing suck and blow at a house party and steve deliberately drops the card to kiss reader? like in clueless lol

Your wish is my command.

Steve x Reader

TW: Implied drunk sex, drinking

Boy. Girl. Boy. Girl. Boy. Girl.

Steve. Robin. Eddie. Nancy. Billy. Carol. Tommy. You.

Eight bodies sit in a tight circle at the center of the Harrington home. It’s not a typical Saturday night. Steve’s parents are out of town for the weekend and what started as a small gathering somehow turned into a rager, has now dwindled down into just a small gathering once again.

It’s nearly three in the morning. You’re tired, and you’re absolutely drunk, and you aren’t exactly sure why Eddie was so incessant on playing this game, but the promise of cuddling up next to Nancy in the guest bedroom if you’d just get it over with is too good to surpass.

You sit back on your palms and observe everyone surrounding you. Nancy’s eyes are half lidded and she’s slurring something unintelligible while leaning against Eddie’s arm. Billy is looking at Carol with the same smile he gives Mrs. Wheeler at the pool and neither of them seem to care that Tommy is nearby. Robin’s tired, you can tell. Her mom was supposed to pick her up a half hour ago. On the other side of you is possibly the only person other than yourself who still has a semblance of their own bearings.

Or it seems that way, at least.

Steve has been fucking shitting himself all night.

“What, are you just gonna keep watching her from across the room like some… forlorn lover?” Eddie had teased him earlier in the night. And to his credit, Steve had been staring.

He couldn’t help it. He had just enough liquid courage in his veins to help him stand on the precipice of making a move, without ever really being brave enough to take that leap.

Besides, it’s just easier to watch from afar, isn’t it? No ruining the “friends-of-friends” relationship that the two of you have. No making things weird if things go south. And things do tend to go south for Steve.

Once party goers began to say their goodbyes, Eddie had whispered his idea to Steve between a shared cigarette by the pool. And Steve had agreed. That fucking liquid courage had allowed him to, but where was it now?

Steve sits beside you screaming internally. He can feel the heat of your fingers where they sit only inches from his. The plush meat of your thigh presses snug against his knee, Eddie had insisted that everyone squeeze in as tight as possible. He swears he can smell you. The cherry vodka that you’ve been taking shots of all night with Nance. It weeps off of your breath every time you throw your head back with laughter and Steve has purposefully stayed away from that bottle all night just so he can taste the cordial sweetness on your tongue for the first time.

“Suck. And. Blow.” Eddie’s words are loud and demanding of attention, but sexual. And for good reason.

He has a cheeky grin on his face, an ace of spades fixed between two fingers. All eyes are on him, but unfortunately for you, you’ve caught his attention.

“Only fair that the birthday girl start us out, right? Counter clockwise.” He holds the card across the circle and you look at him with surprise.

“Why do I have to pass it to fucking Tommy?” You spit while snatching the card from his hand.

“Because we’re not giving Hargrove the chance to plant one on my girl,” Tommy juts in quietly enough that Billy apparently doesn’t hear him.

Which is a fair argument, you can’t lie.

You roll your eyes. Just one game. That’s the only thing standing between you and sleep.

The circle quiets as you bring the card to your lips. Had this been earlier in the night, it might’ve stuck to your lipgloss and Tommy would’ve really had to suck to get it loose. It rests loosely against your parted mouth now, your breath caught in your chest as you turn toward Tommy and lean in. One stutter in your lungs and you’ll be fighting Carol in the fucking driveway for planting one on her man.

You don’t drop it, though. Tommy leans toward you and kisses you through the card. Even with that protection you can tell he’s uncoordinated and eager.

From his lips to Carol’s, from Carol’s to Billy’s, from Billy’s to Nancy and so on. It feels drawn out. Everyone has to make a thing out of their kiss, don’t they?

You watch through bleary eyes as Robin passes the card from her lips to Steve, thrilled that this is finally over.

Until Steve turns toward you, ace of spades still pressed against his mouth.

Sleep who? You're more awake than ever. You freeze for a second as he begins to inch closer, unsure now of how this game works or what you're even supposed to do.

But then Steve waves you toward him. With the forward, "come here" motion of his two fingers, Steve nods. Somehow reassuring you that this is okay, this is standard. Right?

So why are you only just realizing how thick his lashes are? They frame his warm chestnut eyes beautifully, enhancing the summer tan sitting on his skin and the freckles accompanying it. Of course you've thought about Steve Harrington like this before, at least mildly. Everyone has. But now it feels...

His eyes start to flutter closed as his face nears, his head tilting to seemingly fit yours. Normal, fine. Your heart doesn't drop until you feel those same two fingers he'd used to beckon you forward on your thigh. Tracing your skin, brushing the plush flesh of your outer knee just gently enough for a chill to settle over your skin.

Steve's nose tickles the tip of yours, his forehead coming to rest against your own. You can smell his cologne so well, the vanilla and cedar tones that smother your sinuses. It’s almost strong enough for you to taste, the alcohol on his tongue permeating through the air and coming nearly close enough for it to bleed onto your tongue, if it weren’t for the card protecting his lips.

Except now there isn’t a card protecting his lips.

You see a flash of bubblegum pink, his flushed lips becoming visible as the ace of spades slips between your bodies. It happens quickly: his free hand in your hair, your mouth being pressed against his, the hoot and holler of guests surrounded you at a deafening volume.

But now you know what Steve’s tongue tastes like. He slips it past your lips, presses it against your teeth until you grant him access to your curious mouth, and then you taste the shots he’s been taking all night. Intoxicating a rich, pouring down your throat to intoxicate you further.

You don’t know when, but your hand moves up. You find the collar of his shirt, dragging him toward you even in the close proximity. Steve hesitates at first. His fingers stiffen in your hair as he forgets how this works. Is he supposed to pull back? Climb on top of you? Instead, his other hand reaches for the loop of your jeans.

“Everyone get the fuck out,” he mumbles against your lips, and no one seems to hear him but he’s still pulling you forward. Pawing at your waist, reaching for the button on your pants and kissing you over and over and fucking over again.

“I said everyone get the fuck out!” Steve shouts this time.

And the hoots and hollers die into laughter and scrambling feet, car keys jangling and a front door slamming. Your back meets the Harrington living room carpet and you feel Steve’s hot breath move down your chin, over your throat until he reaches your chest.

Maybe you can do without sleep for just a little bit longer.

[theshift]

The Deal

It all started when I moved to a new city after college. I was lucky enough to land an entry-level job in HR, but the pay was dismal. Still, it was a fresh start—leaving my family and friends behind to carve out a new life. I knew that making friends quickly would be key to adjusting to this new chapter of my life, or I'd end up feeling pretty isolated. Fortunately, I hit it off with a coworker who invited me to play basketball at a local community group, and that's where I met Marco.

He caught my eye immediately—a man in his mid-forties, tall, fit, with a commanding presence. I played it cool, waiting for my coworker to introduce us. "Marco, meet my new friend Lukas," my coworker said. "He just moved here." Marco gave me a firm handshake, grinning. "Glad to have you, Lukas. But I’ve got one question—are you any good?"

I smirked, trying to play it cool. "Well, I guess you're about to find out."

I was humbled pretty quickly. Basketball was still new to me, and it showed. But Marco didn’t seem to care. Throughout the game, I’d catch him glancing at me, more interested in me than the game itself. As the game wrapped up, he called out smugly, "All talk for someone who didn’t even score once!" Exhausted and out of my depth, I just laughed. Afterward, Marco introduced me to his wife, Serena. They had been happily married for 21 years, since right out of college. It was a bit of a bummer finding out he was married, but I was happy to have found a group to hang out with—and Marco seemed really keen to get to know me.

Our friendship grew from there. We’d meet up sometimes for basketball practice, where he’d help me improve my skills. Eventually, our meetups turned into grabbing drinks together. Marco got me into craft beer, and as the months passed, we both started to open up. He told me about his life—how he owned a medical sales business, how well it was doing, and how he had two sons in college. He spoke glowingly of his wife, saying he knew he had met his soulmate. 

I shared my own struggles—how I was excited about starting my career, but also how tough it was financially. Marco gave me advice, encouraging me whenever I needed a boost.

One day, Serena was away on a business trip for the weekend, and Marco invited me over to watch a football game. After a couple of beers, Marco turned to me and, out of nowhere, said, "You know, Lukas, I’m kind of envious of you."

I blinked, surprised. "How come?"

He took another sip of his beer before responding. "No one knows this except you now, but... I’m bisexual. And while I’m grateful for the life I have, I’ve never had the chance to explore that side of myself. I wouldn’t ever jeopardize my marriage, but sometimes I do wish I could be with men."

I was stunned. I didn’t know what to say. Marco looked at me, gauging my reaction, before continuing. "I know this may sound crazy, but I trust you, and I want to ask you a favor. Hear me out before you decide, okay?"

Curiosity piqued, I nodded. "Sure, go ahead."

"What if there was a way for me to explore this side of myself without breaking up my family? If you were me, would you take it?"

I paused, considering his words. "Yeah... I guess I would."

He seemed relieved and leaned in a bit. "Okay, this is where things get... weird. I’ve never told anyone this, but I have the ability to shapeshift. And I want to switch places with you. Just for a month."

I stared at him, my mind struggling to process what I’d just heard. He wasn’t joking—his expression was dead serious. "Wait, what? How... how do you even do that?"

Marco smiled slightly, held out his hand, and said, "Let me show you."

Hesitant but intrigued, I reached out and shook his hand. Suddenly, a bright light flashed from his palm, scanning my body. He let go, rubbed his hands together, and I watched, dumbfounded, as an exact replica of my body appeared in his hands like a skin suit. 

I was speechless.

Marco chuckled at my reaction. "So... I guess you’ve seen me naked now," I joked, trying to wrap my head around what had just happened.

"Yeah... I guess I have," he laughed.

He led me upstairs and laid out his entire plan. For one month, we’d switch places. I’d live his life—run his business, spend time with his family—while he experienced life as me, exploring his bisexuality in secret. His shapeshifting ability allowed him to perfectly mimic anyone he’d scanned, down to the last detail.

"But there are a few rules," he explained. "First, you cannot sleep with my wife. Second, you have to follow the business plan I leave you—no changes. And third, spend time with my sons when they come home for winter break. I’ll help guide you through it all."

"Marco, this is... this is overwhelming. I’m not sure I can pull it off," I admitted.

"You can. I trust you. And to sweeten the deal, I’ll pay you $10,000 for the month."

Ten grand? My heart raced. With that kind of money, I could get myself out of debt and start saving. After a long pause, I finally agreed. We shook on it.

I spent the next day tying up loose ends in my life, preparing for the swap. When I returned, Marco opened another beer for me. "Okay, Lukas, any rules you want for me?"

"Yeah, a few. First, you need to go to work—don’t slack off on that. Second, check in with my friends so they don’t worry. And third, don’t ruin my reputation, okay? I still want a chance at meeting someone after this is all over."

"Got it," Marco nodded. "I’ll be respectful."

He led me upstairs again, and I watched as he scanned himself. Another skin suit appeared—this time, an exact copy of Marco. He handed it to me, the lifeless face staring back. "Now, here’s the fun part," he said. "You’re going to put it on. I'll be downstairs waiting for you."

The idea of slipping into Marco's life—literally—was still hard to grasp. As Lukas stood there in Marco's bathroom, holding the lifeless suit in his hands, the weight of what he was about to do hit him again. The room felt colder, or maybe it was just the suit, its unsettling coldness radiating through Lukas' fingers. He stared at Marco’s face—blank, eyeless, but unmistakably Marco—like it was staring back at him, waiting to be worn.

He hesitated, then, with a deep breath, he slipped one foot into the opening at the suit’s back. The texture of the suit was strange, like cool, stretched skin. His toes felt icy as they sank into the hollow mold of Marco’s feet. He adjusted his foot until it nestled into the curve of Marco's arch, and the sensation was surreal. He repeated the process with the other foot, each movement deliberate, each step pulling him deeper into the shift.

As he pulled the suit up over his legs, the sensation changed—his thighs merged with Marco’s thicker, more muscular frame. His skin prickled as the cold transformed into a warmth that began to wrap around him, like the suit was responding to him, molding itself to his body. His hands trembled when he reached Marco's waist, hesitating as he pulled it over his own. The suit was snug, unnervingly intimate as it slid over him, conforming to his body like a second skin. Lukas took a sharp breath when his own body began to feel distant, swallowed by the suit.

When it reached his chest, the suit tightened. It compressed his torso, his own wiry frame disappearing as Marco’s broader chest settled into place. He ran his fingers over Marco's pecs, feeling the unfamiliar bulk. It was his touch, but not his body. He twisted slightly, and the suit shifted seamlessly with him, no gap, no seam—only Marco.

His arms came next. Lukas felt the power in Marco’s forearms, thicker than his own, veins more prominent. He flexed his new fingers, watching in awe as they responded just like his own, but the shape was completely different—Marco’s hands, rougher, stronger, experienced.

Finally, there was the face—the final piece. Lukas hesitated for a moment, his reflection staring back at him, half Marco and half Lukas. The difference between the two was stark, like seeing a stranger staring back at him. He lifted the faceless mask of Marco and, with trembling hands, positioned it over his own. 

The sensation was like nothing he had ever felt before. The suit clung to his face, cool and slick, stretching over his features and fusing with his skin. As the mask settled, the fit was eerily perfect. His vision blurred for a moment as the world seemed to shift, and when he blinked, he wasn’t sure who he was anymore. Marco’s face looked back at him from the mirror, alive and breathing. He touched his cheek, feeling the unfamiliar roughness of Marco’s stubble beneath his fingers, and then ran his hand through Marco’s dark hair.

It was more than just a change of skin. He was Marco now—physically, at least. Lukas tilted his head, watching the reflection mimic him, then smiled. It wasn’t his smile. Marco’s grin was wider, more confident, almost cocky. Lukas admired the reflection longer than he expected, tracing the contours of Marco’s jaw, the way his shoulders filled out his new body. It felt powerful—alien and yet exhilarating.

He spoke, "Hello, I'm Marco Gonzales." The voice was deep, gruff—Marco’s voice, not his own. It reverberated in his throat, strange and foreign, yet perfectly natural coming from his lips. The reflection in the mirror and Lukas phone's camera spoke back, reinforcing the illusion.

Lukas could hardly believe it. He stared for a long time, running his hands down the length of his new body, tracing Marco’s muscles and curves like they were his own, yet so foreign. His chest rose and fell with each breath, the weight of Marco's frame making each breath feel heavier, fuller. The bulk, the strength—it was intoxicating.

Once dressed, he headed downstairs, the weight of Marco’s shoes and clothes grounding him further in this new reality. As he descended, he saw himself—his old self—lounging casually on the couch, a sight that made his stomach churn in disbelief. His own face, his voice, speaking back at him.

“Took you long enough,” Marco—his old self—said with a laugh. “What do you think?”

Lukas sat down, still in awe of the situation. “This is... unbelievable. I can’t believe how real it feels.”

Marco—wearing Lukas’ skin—grinned. “Told you it’d be something. Now, for the next month, you’ll be Marco Gonzales.”

They both sat there for a moment, the reality of the swap settling in. It wasn’t just about wearing Marco’s skin. Lukas was about to live his life—take over his work, interact with his wife, his children, and the people Marco had built his life around. And Marco would be living Lukas' life, exploring the side of himself he’d kept hidden for so long.

“Tomorrow, you’ll go to work, meet my clients, handle my business,” Marco explained, leaning forward. “And don’t worry, I’ll be guiding you every step of the way. I’ll be checking in with you, making sure everything goes smoothly.”

Lukas nodded, still feeling the weight of the transformation. “And what about Serena?”

Marco’s face grew serious. “You’ll need to act like me around her, but remember our deal—no crossing that line. You’re in my life, but you’re not me. My family is off-limits.”

Lukas swallowed hard, nodding again. “I understand.”

But as the days passed, things began to get complicated. Wearing Marco’s skin was one thing, but living his life was entirely different. The demands of his business, the constant pressure of pretending to be someone he wasn’t, started to weigh on Lukas. And then there was Serena—sharp, intuitive, and far more aware of the changes in “Marco” than Lukas anticipated. She questioned him constantly, sensing that something wasn’t quite right, and Lukas had to think quickly to keep the charade going.

Meanwhile, Marco was enjoying his time as Lukas—perhaps a little too much. He dove into the freedom of Lukas' life with reckless abandon, hitting bars, meeting men, and living without the weight of his responsibilities. And though he promised not to tarnish Lukas’ reputation, Lukas started to hear whispers, rumors about “himself” that made him question how much control Marco really had.

The month dragged on, and by the time the swap was supposed to end, both men had changed in ways they hadn’t anticipated. For Lukas, living as Marco had awakened something inside him—a sense of confidence and control he’d never felt before. And for Marco, the experience of freedom had reignited a desire for something he couldn’t fully grasp, something that his life couldn’t provide.

But when it came time to switch back, Marco wasn’t ready to let go.

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 22 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: It's terrifying to realize you don't know if Bradley is safe. As the lonely days stretch on and on, you try to savor the notes from him. Once the final two envelopes have been opened, you know you need the real thing.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, adult language, romantic as hell Bradley, 18+

Length: 2600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Other than your car, everything you owned was inside Bradley's house. Over the last few weeks, Natasha helped you load up his Bronco and make a few trips down, but she looked at you like you were crazy when you told her you were going to leave most things packed up for now.

"Why?" she asked, leaning on a stack of boxes in the living room. "Even if he gets stationed in Norfolk, you'll finish out your school year here before he sells the house."

But you didn't want him to sell his house. You loved it here. Being in his living space was the closest thing to being with him when he was deployed, and you didn't think it was fair that he might have to give this up. What would Edith do without Bradley to help her? What would Bradley do in a different state without his best friend? No, you simply couldn't unpack, just in case, but you also couldn't accept Virginia with any finality until you were explicitly told it was happening.

"I just wish I could talk to him," you whispered.

"Soon," Nat replied, and you jumped, surprised to find you weren't alone in your thoughts. "I just moved a million boxes. I deserve a trip to the wine bar, and so do you. Bradley will be back soon enough."

"Nine days. Not soon enough." 

It was nine days until he was supposed to get back to Norfolk. On Valentine's Day. Then right after that, it was Career Day at your school. You had been holding onto a few of the envelopes and gift cards from him, trying to make them last, but you were almost out. You needed the real thing again.

Natasha groaned. "You are so in love with him, it's kind of gross. Let's go drink wine, and I'll tell you more tales from before the mustache."

You took one more look at the few unopened letters lined up on the coffee table before grabbing the gift card for the wine bar. But even southern California looked gloomy on the drive up. The wine was good, but you were just tired. Natasha told you all about how she tried to give Bradley the call sign Chicken Man, and you laughed at the idea of that emblazoned along the side of his jet. She also seemed to be able to tell just how melancholy you were.

"You're doing great," she told you, setting down her wine glass. "You're counting down the hours until you can talk to Bradley again. Vanessa would have probably been too busy with her water bottles to remember to pick him up from the airport. There's a reason why it's hard, and it's because he loves you as much as you love him."

You did your best to keep it together after that, but there was a lump in your throat, holding back your emotions, and when you got back home, you started crying on the couch. Big, fat tears rolled down your cheeks, blurring your vision, but you knew which envelope you were reaching for.

Open me when you've had a bad day

As you tore into the envelope, you realized there was another envelope inside it. The second envelope said Take me to The Bayside Florist and give me to someone who works there.

"What is this, Bradley?" you whispered out loud, reaching for your phone to see if the shop was still open this late on a Saturday. Your heart skipped a beat when you realized they closed in an hour, and you grabbed the envelope along with your phone and keys and ran out to your car.

In a matter of minutes, you parked in front of an adorable flower shop with The Bayside Florist in pink lettering on the awning. You felt a little silly taking the envelope inside, but when you were greeted by an older woman with a warm smile, you started to hand it to her.

"This might sound odd, but my boyfriend is deployed, and he left me this envelope," you said with a laugh. "Apparently I was supposed to bring it here?"

The woman adjusted her glasses as a smile found her lips. "Oh, yes. I remember him. Tall? With a mustache? Handsome?"

You bit your lip to keep from making an embarrassing noise. "Yeah, that sounds just like him."

She nodded and opened the envelope, humming in agreement with whatever she read inside. "I have something for you. Wait right here." 

Then she disappeared through a doorway, and you walked around the inside of the shop, examining the arrangements and enjoying the scent of so many types of flowers mingling together. You weren't quite sure what Bradley had up his sleeve from thousands of miles away, but you were almost positive it was about to make your day so much better.

"Special delivery from your boyfriend."

Startled, you spun around to see a stunning bouquet of flowers in every color on the counter, complete with an envelope tucked in amidst the blooms. "That's for me?" you whispered.

"From your boyfriend," she confirmed.

You stifled a whimper as you reached for the flowers. "Am I supposed to pay for this?"

"He already did."

Tears stung your eyes as you pulled the envelope that said Gorgeous from between two roses. It was written in his handwriting. You thought you should read it in the privacy of your own car, so you thanked the woman and then headed back outside. Once you were sitting behind the steering wheel, you set the flowers aside in favor of the note.

Gorgeous,

I never want you to have a bad day, but I really hate that you're having one when I'm not with you. If I could be anywhere in the world right now, I'd choose to be next to you. Will you write about your day in your journal so we can talk about it later? I can't wait to talk about everything with you. I love you.

Bradley

Now that the tears started, you just let yourself cry.

--------------------------

Constantly wondering if your boyfriend was even okay was taking a toll on you. Your classroom was supposed to be your safe haven right now. Your place of comfort. Your refuge. But a few days before Bradley was supposed to get back into Norfolk, you were short and snippy with your class. You didn't mean to be, but it was happening anyway.

"Just sit down," you told Oliver, voice taking on a sharp, scolding edge that was usually never there. All eighteen of your kids sat with their backs straight in their seats and their hands folded on their desks like they were worried you were going to start yelling. This was never how you wanted to conduct your class. These kids were really well behaved for the most part, and you wanted them to have a lot of fun mixed in with their school lessons.

You turned away from them to try to catch your breath. The past few nights had been filled with restless sleep and a pain in your heart that wouldn't go away until you knew Bradley was safe. You cleared your throat, trying so hard to figure out what you wanted to say for your social studies lesson, but you couldn't shake your mind free from the anxiety you were feeling.

Picturing the flowers that you put in a Miller High Life pitcher you found in the kitchen after Bradley didn't appear to own a vase made you smile enough that you were able to turn around again.

"I need everyone to open their textbook to page eighty-seven." The only sound was pages rustling as you added, "And I promise I'll make this a fun unit for us."

When you finally left work that afternoon, you decided to let yourself open the last envelope from Bradley. It had been in your tote bag for a few days, just waiting for the right moment. Open me when you really want some coffee. You could clearly use the extra caffeine today, so you tore into the envelope as you walked across the parking lot. Just like before, there was an envelope inside the first envelope. 

Take me to Starbucks and give me to someone who works there.

Now you were smiling. You got to go to another place of business with an envelope like an absolute lunatic, and you were really looking forward to it. You stopped at the Starbucks closest to your school, and when you handed the envelope to the girl who tried to take your order, she raised one eyebrow.

"Your guess is as good as mine. I think it's kind of a treasure hunt of sorts from my boyfriend who is deployed," you told her with a shrug. 

Then you watched her open the envelope and remove a note along with a gift card. Her eyes skimmed the text, and her face transformed into the sappiest smile. "Oh my god," she said, looking back up at you. "I wish someone loved me this much," she muttered and then turned away from you, reaching for the biggest cup and a Sharpie.

You waited awkwardly for a few minutes while she made your drink. You could tell it was your favorite drink. Bradley somehow ordered your favorite drink for you to enjoy. Warmth filled your body, and you accepted the cup from her. "Thanks," you murmured as she paid using the gift card, and that's when you realized she had written something on the cup.

Gorgeous, I love you. I can't wait to come home. Bradley

"Does he have a brother?"

You looked up at the girl who made your coffee. "What?" you asked, taking the note and the gift card from her. 

"Does your boyfriend have a brother? Because that note is the sweetest thing I've ever seen."

You shook your head, but you were smiling. "No. No brother. Sorry. Thanks for making my coffee."

As you walked outside you read the note, already feeling calmer at the sight of his hand writing. 

Dear Starbucks Employee,

The beautiful woman who handed you this envelope is my girlfriend. I am desperately in love with her, and I would be there with her if I could, but I'm fucking deployed, if you can believe it. Please make her favorite drink for her, and if you wouldn't mind, please write 'Gorgeous, I love you. I can't wait to come home. Bradley' on the cup? Thank you so much.

He had scrawled your favorite drink to your exact specifications below that, and it even tasted perfect. You spent the ride back to Coronado planning out your upcoming Monday. If Bradley arrived back to Virginia on time, you'd be hearing from him by then. Every fiber of your being was hoping he'd call and tell you to pick him up in San Diego, but if he had to stay in Norfolk, you'd take a day off from work to fly out and see him. You had to. You wouldn't be able to go an extra minute without him now. You wanted to hug him and kiss him and give him a blowjob. You needed to feel his hands on your body and listen to his voice while you ran your fingers along his scars. 

Monday couldn't get here fast enough.

-----------------------------

The only thing Bradley wanted to do right now was get his phone in his fucking hands, but he thought that if he brought it up again, someone would tell him the thing had been mysteriously misplaced. He already asked for it three times. He'd been dropped back in Norfolk by air transport, and after a short debrief with a national security team, he would hopefully be allowed to be on his way.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw. This way."

He was led into a medical facility first where his bruises and strained neck were examined and the findings were documented. When he realized he got caught up in a dog fighting scenario with the other aviators, he had been more angry than anything else. Didn't these people know he had a perfect girlfriend to get back home to? Did they even care? He made it out mostly unscathed and back to the carrier deck safely, if not a little sore. The one thing that made him almost laugh was the fact that Cyclone would undoubtedly see his medical report, and there was a good chance Admiral Walker would hear from him again.

After the medical consultation, he was led into a debriefing room where he really didn't have much to say about the mission. It had been successful, sure, but he wasn't going to be allowed to discuss it with anyone after this, so he just stuck to answering the questions he was asked.

Then finally, he was given his phone and left on his own. Of course it was nearly dead when he turned it on, but it should be good enough to reach you. Talking to you would come as his top priority before figuring out how he was getting home, but that was a close second. His heart pounded in anticipation of hearing your voice after so many weeks.

It was barely six in the morning in San Diego. Maybe you were up and getting ready for work, but maybe you were still sleeping. It didn't matter. He needed you to know he was coming home. He tapped on your photo, pulling up your contact information as the warm sun and cold Virginia air hit his skin at the same time, and he shivered as soon as the phone stopped ringing. Your voice in his ear was his reward. 

"Bradley!"

"Gorgeous," he sighed, suddenly so exhausted, he could barely stand. One word from you, and all he wanted to do was curl up on his couch with his head on your lap and let you take care of everything.

"Bradley!" You shrieked this time, and he smiled.

"Baby, I'm coming home."

"For good?" you asked, voice soft with an edge of concern that he wanted nothing more than to ease away. "Or just long enough to pack some things and head back to Norfolk?"

He hoisted his duffle onto his shoulder and started walking. "I'm coming home for good. Coming home to you."

---------------------------------

He's safe and he's coming home! I'm working on mapping out the remaining chapters of this story, so if there's something you want to read about, hit me up. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 23

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[little-diable]

Afraid - Dean Winchester (smut)

Y'all asked for some jealous!posessive!Dean, so who am I to deny that wish? I came across a Dean edit paired with the song "Afraid" by The Neighbourhood, I guess that set the mood. Honestly, it's just pwp, but I ain't sorry. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean is tired of watching men trying to chat (y/n) up wherever the brothers take her. Dean is tired of faking his disinterest in the reader. Dean is tired of holding back.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, choking, oral (m), car sex, but some fluff and a love confession

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.2k words)

The sound of her boots meeting the ground was drowned out by the music echoing through the bar and the chatter filling the air. She was working on the adrenaline still thumping through her veins, riled up by the hunt Dean and her had just finished, wiping their weapons clean before they found their way to this very bar, ready for some distraction before they left this town in the morning. 

With a bright – yet awfully fake – smile glued to her lips, (y/n) made her way to the bartender, studying the man who was focused on the drinks he kept preparing. She was too concentrated on the game she was about to play with the guy, all too used to these moments, to notice the eyes of some other men on her frame, intently studying the woman’s body.

“Hi.” Her soft voice forced the bartender’s grey eyes to find hers, grinning at the smiling woman. He was handsome, with his bright, stormy eyes and the black hair he had gelled back, yet he was nowhere near as handsome as the green-eyed hunter she had been friends with for years by now. Dean fucking Winchester, the man who had an awfully confusing grasp on her body and soul, holding her heart in his hands, crushing it whenever he turned from her to find shelter in another woman’s bed. 

“Hi, darlin’. What can I get for you?” Before (y/n) could speak her and Dean’s order, an unfamiliar voice spoke up from behind her. 

“Give the lovely woman a few shots it’s on me.” Slowly (y/n) turned towards the man, eyes finding his greedy ones, trying to keep her disgust from finding its way to her features. A soft chuckle left her, hoping to distract the man for a few seconds, while she figured out a way out of this situation. 

“Mhm, thank you, that’s very sweet.” (Y/n) tried to turn away from him, though without any luck, stopped by the hand finding its way to her waist. 

“Not so fast, pretty. At least tell me your name.” A groan threatened to claw through (y/n), eyes fluttering in annoyance the man clearly mistook for shy flattery, making the smirk he wore on his thin lips grow. 

“It’s Mandy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my friend is waiting for me.” The man’s hand didn’t move, tightening its grip on her waist. With her lips forming a snarl, (y/n) was hellbent on fighting her way out of this, it wasn’t the first time a man tried to chat her up against her will, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, all too used to these uncomfortable situations. Though while her mind raced to find a snarky reply, she was gently though determinedly pulled away from the man.

“Hey, I was talking to her!” Her mind didn’t get the chance to concentrate on the man’s loud voice, distracted by the all-too-familiar scent forcing its way up her nose. For a second (y/n) allowed her eyes to flutter close, relaxing in Dean’s possessive grasp, concentrating on his scent, of the feeling of his muscles pressing against her frame, wordlessly telling her that he wouldn’t let her go. 

“Well, now she’s done talking to you. Let’s go, baby, I want to get out of here.” The man got no chance to protest, forced to watch Dean guide (y/n) through the crowd and out into the cold evening. She inhaled a few breaths, wrapping her arms around herself the second Dean let go of her, searching the distance between them.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your help, but I would have managed just fine on my own, Dean.” He was walking a few steps ahead of her, coming to an abrupt stop the second she spoke the words. Dean turned towards her with dark eyes, features pulled into a hard frown, looking at (y/n) as if she was a supernatural being he was about to kill.

“I’m so fucking sick and tired of watching these men get their hands on you. Do you even know what seeing that does to me?” Dean’s voice carried an unfamiliar kind of anger, dripping with possessiveness, with jealousy. Her heart started racing in her chest, forcing heat to rise to her face, wondering where this was coming from. (Y/n) kept her gaze focused on Dean, eyebrows furrowed together as the seconds kept ticking by, trying to figure out what was going on inside his mind. “You know what, forget it.”

“Absolutely not. Talk to me, Dean, where is this coming from?” She reached for his hand before he could try to start walking once again, eyes drawn to hers like a moth drawn to any source of light. (Y/n) could tell that he was fighting an inner battle, tongue kissing his teeth, fingers forcing themselves closer to hers, interlacing them with his. 

“I,” a deep, almost defeated exhale left Dean, wondering how to put his thoughts into words. But the second the sound of somebody stepping out of the bar found its way to the two, it was as if he was lured out of his trance, letting go of (y/n). “I can’t do this, not here.”

Dean started walking towards Baby without looking back, growling something under his breath (y/n) couldn’t pick up. With determination guiding her, she jogged towards him, forcing him to a halt in front of Baby once again, murmuring his name. The last thing she heard before Dean turned towards her, reaching for (y/n) to press her against Baby, was an angry “Fuck it” leaving the tall man.

Her gasp was swallowed by his lips finding hers, kissing her hungrily as if they had been parted from one another for years, dreaming of their shared kisses, clinging to bits and pieces of their memories. Both moaned in unison, allowing their tongues to meet, turning the kiss even more heated. 

Slowly he parted from her, allowing the both of them to catch their breaths. His cold hands found their way to her warm cheeks, thumb stroking along her swollen lips as he pondered over his words. (Y/n) struggled to concentrate on anything but his touch, taken up by the feeling she had been desperate to feel for years, wondering if and how Dean would touch her. 

“You’re mine, you always have been, and you always will be. I won’t share you, just the thought of it makes me sick.” Dean’s growled words shot heat to her core, walls clenching around nothing. Wordlessly she pulled him down for another kiss, needing to feel him close once again, not fully trusting that this wasn’t just a trick of her imagination. Dean pressed her even further against Baby, keeping her trapped to make her feel every inch of his body, groaning the second his growing bulge came in contact with her desperate heat. “Do you feel what you do to me? I should fuck you right here, for them to see that you’re mine, mine only.”

A whimper left (y/n) at his words, drawing a dangerous chuckle from Dean as he let go of her, giving her just enough space to find her way to the passenger seat. Her eyes didn’t dare part from his features, trying to soak up every second. She couldn’t stop her grin from widening as her hands began to move, finding his thigh before Dean could catch up on what she was trying to do. He shot her a warning look, teeth nibbling on his lower lip, but her hands kept moving, finding their way to his crotch, feeling his hardening cock strain against the fabric of his washed-out jeans. 

“Sweetheart,” Dean choked on the word, struggling to keep his eyes focused on the road. (Y/n) didn’t speak up, she began to shift in her seat, leaning towards him to free his growing cock from the confines of his clothes. The groan that left Dean filled her with giddiness, spitting into her palms before she touched him for the first time, slowly stroking him. “Fuck, feels so good, been dreaming of this.”

Her soft chuckles forced a grin to widen on Dean’s lips, freezing the second he felt her warm breath clashing against his soft skin. Without another warning, she parted her lips, spitting onto his tip before she took him in her mouth. The groan that left Dean echoed through Baby, a sound that forced (y/n) to hum around him, making the sound vibrate on his skin. 

Even though Dean tried to concentrate on the dark road ahead, he felt his concentration slipping, parking Baby on the side of the road before (y/n) realised what he was doing. With one hand getting tangled in her hair, Dean roughly pulled her off his cock and back in for a teeth-clashing kiss. 

“Get in the backseat, I need to fuck you now.” The rough tone of Dean’s voice left (y/n) moaning, struggling to make her way to the backseat with her thoughts focused on the things Dean would do to her. He didn’t waste any time the second she found him hovering over her, hands pulling on her trousers and panties to expose her dripping cunt, groaning at the sight. 

His calloused fingers touched her expertly, circling her pulsing bundle with just enough pressure to push her into another dimension. Within seconds Dean had turned her into a blabbering mess, choking on her words as he pushed two fingers into her tightness. He didn’t hold back, kept her pinned to the leather seat with his free hand finding her throat. 

“You’re mine, your body belongs to me from now on.” For years she had imagined moments like this, wondering if she’d ever be fortunate enough to feel him this close, wondering how it must feel to have his hands on her. She could stay buried beneath him till the end of their time, allowing Dean to touch her as he pleased. 

“Dean,” she whispered his name, unable to use any more strength with his hand choking her just the way she liked. “Fuck me, please.”

Dean stared down at her for a few seconds, nodding his head as he pulled away, reaching for his wallet to pull out a condom. Within moments he placed himself on top of (y/n), aligning his tip with her cunt. With their eyes holding contact, he pushed into her, groaning at the feeling of her walls fluttering around him. 

Her lips parted at the feeling of Dean slowly pushing into her, allowing (y/n) to adjust to the unfamiliar sensation. Dean stared down at her, eyes growing a few shades darker at the sight of her pleasure drunken features, finding excitement in her moans. Only as she nodded her head, teeth buried in her lower lip, did he start a faster rhythm, set on pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Dean, feels so good.” One of his hands found its way back to her throat, holding onto her as he fucked her faster, deeper, set on making her remember this very night till their last moment together. The Impala moved with his every thrust, keeping them protected from any dangers waiting out in the dark, allowing the two lovers to give in to their every emotion. 

“Been imagining this for years, but you feel even better than I thought, fuck, it’s like you were made for me, sweetheart.” (Y/n) couldn’t reply, could only clench around him with her eyes squeezed shut and her fingernails leaving crescent shapes on his neck. She held onto him as if he was about to disappear, about to leave her behind – even though she very well knew that Dean would never let go of her, forever holding her close.

The second Dean tightened his grip on her throat, she found herself looking up at him, allowing heat to rise in her system as she picked up on the love swimming in his pupils. Dean tilted his head down to press a kiss to her lips, momentarily distracting her from the feeling of his cock nudging her swollen spot, leaving her body tingling.

“Touch yourself for me, baby.” The simple command rolled off Dean’s tongue, filling the Impala with another wave of heat to crawl up her body. With one arm slung around his neck, the other found its way down her frame, fingers rubbing her clit. Dean could swear that he was finally in heaven, that he had finally found his peace with her buried beneath him, finally his to love. 

(Y/n) could only whisper Dean’s name, eyes once again falling shut as she came. He fucked her through her high, staring down at her with his lips pulled into a smirk. It took Dean a few more moments before he gave in, letting a string of curses roll off his tongue. 

“I love you, sweetheart.” His words made tears well up in (y/n)’s eyes, pulling him down for one last kiss before she repeated the three loving words.

[familyvideostevie]

day after tomorrow

joel miller x reader

summary: joel drops you off and picks you up from the airport. you are definitely falling in love with him. 

warnings: modern no outbreak au, game!joel or hbo!joel, fluff, really just a fluff fest honestly, new-ish relationship, falling in love, sweet enough to make your teeth ache | 2.7k

A/N: this is a christmas gift for my dear friend @strangerfreaks who makes my life better in every way possible. i love you! hope you enjoy this <3

___

He's leaning on the side of the truck when you hurry outside with your stuff. 

"Morning," you call. It's barely that, sky still dark and air still carrying the bite of the night's chill. 

Joel straightens up and gives you a tired smile. Most of his smiles are tired but they're always genuine when directed at you. He tugs the backpack from your shoulder and presses his lips to your cheek, beard scratching your skin gently. 

"Howdy," he says in your ear before pulling away.

The travel mug Joel pushes into your hands is warm to the touch. 

"Tea," he says before you can tell him it's too early for coffee. His voice is deeper than usual, still warming up from sleep. It's not a cup from the local shop -- they're not open yet -- so he must have made it at home. "No caffeine before flights." 

"You remembered?" 

He gives you an unimpressed look and grabs your bags. They go in the backseat of his truck and he jerks his chin at the passenger door. "Get in. S'chilly."

It's also early. So early you were not going to ask him to drive you to the airport but when you mentioned you had to go on a work trip he offered. Insisted, actually, once he found out what time you needed to get there.

"You ain't takin' a cab that early," he had said. "Hell, you ain't takin' a cab home, neither. I'll pick you up."

This thing between you isn't new anymore, not exactly, but it's not solid yet. It doesn't have a name. But it's been a few months and you know what his sheets smell like and the feel of him pressed against you in the middle of the night and how he laughs with his head thrown back, mouth wide and eyes creased at the corners. He likes to take you on long walks around the lake a few towns over and you know all about his daughters even if you haven't met them yet. Your life feels a little more solid with Joel in it and the swell of your heart in your chest when you talk to him, when you see him, when he looks at you, is a welcome feeling. It's nice to want and be wanted in return. 

The inside of his truck is warm, your seat heater already turned on. The radio is down to a low hum and there's a silver cup similar to your own in the holder between the seats. Joel gets back into the truck with a slight groan and glances at you to see if you've got your seatbelt on before he clicks his. 

"Ready?" he asks. You nod. He settles his hand on your headrest and looks out the back windshield as he reverses the truck out of the driveway. "Shouldn't hit much traffic," he says. 

You take a sip of your tea and watch him as he drives out of your neighborhood and towards the highway. Part of you wishes you would hit traffic so you could look at him longer. Even in the dark you know his face pretty well by now. His hair is getting a little long, the dark threaded through with some grey and falling over his perpetually lined forehead. The scar on the bridge of his nose that you love to run your finger across and the bruises under his eyes from too many nights up late working on site plans and employee schedules. You don't think you've met a man who works as hard as Joel, and yet here he is driving you to the airport when he could be sleeping. 

Maybe it's because he's tired or maybe it's because it's dark or maybe it's because you're leaving for a few days but Joel lets you look without teasing. His eyes catch yours for just a second and he smirks.

"Why don't you drink coffee before a flight?" He takes a sip of his own thermos. You watch his throat work as he swallows and look away this time. The sky is starting to look purple out your window, the trees and fields and occasional buildings flying by too fast for your eyes to settle on anything. Joel drinks coffee like it's water. You're still leaning things about each other -- most days you find yourself thinking that you want to be learning things about him for the rest of your life -- and this is a new topic of conversation. You haven't had to be on a plane since you met him.

"I don't really like flying," you say. "Makes me nervous. I figure caffeine will just make it worse."

"Don't like it much either." You look at him again and find see smirk turn to a frown as he merges onto the nearly empty highway. "You gonna be okay?"

He asks like it's within his power to make flying something enjoyable, to cancel your work trip, to squash everything in this world that makes you nervous. Mostly you're just glad he's not teasing you about it. Maybe someday you can take a trip and be grumpy about it together.

"I'll be fine, Joel."

"Hm."

He rests an elbow against the window and rakes his hand through his hair.

"What are you up to this week?" you ask. 

He sighs. "Not much," he says. "Lumber shipment but Tommy's handlin' it. Ellie says her shower head is actin' funny so I'll go to her place and look at that. Probably sit my ass on the couch and try to watch a damn football game or somethin'."

"So what I'm hearing is you're going to miss me." It's meant to be a tease but it comes out a bit more earnest than you'd like. 

He sends you that unamused look of his but the mirth in his eyes betrays him, tells you he sees through it. You're learning that he's good at that -- seeing what you really mean, what you really want, who you really are, all the way down to the core. "Course I will," he says. "What man wouldn't miss cold hands bein' stuck up his shirt when he gets in bed?"

You scoff and Joel snickers. You could remind him how he usually catches your hands in his before you make it to his hemline on the rare nights he does wear a shirt, how he cradles your fingers and blows on them softly while rubbing them with his perpetually warm palms. The memory makes your breath hitch just a bit. 

It's only three days. Some conference your boss wanted you to go to in his stead. It won't require much of you -- you just have to attend a few panels, a dinner or two, and schmooze a little bit. You'll be back before you know it. You tell yourself it's silly to feel this apprehension at the distance, the time apart. But you're used to Joel by now and damn if you won't miss him. Used to him taking up space in your kitchen, used to his arm around you on the couch, used to his short texts and heavy gaze. You know by now that it's only a matter of time before you love him.  

"I'll miss you, too," you say softly. Joel eyes you, smirk turned soft again and reaches for you. He settles his palm on your thigh and you cover your hand with his. 

When you get to the airport aren't many cars around and you're pretty sure the attendants won't yell at you for idling. Joel seems to think the same thing as he gets out of the truck to set your luggage on the ground. You leave your now-empty to-go mug in his car and throw your arms around him when he gets to the curb with your suitcase. His chest rumbles in amusement but he hugs you back, one palm rubbing between your shoulder blades until you pull away. 

"Thank you for --"

"Nope," he interrupts you. "No thanks allowed." He hands you your backpack and you shoulder it. "I'll pick you up on Wednesday," he says. 

You wave him off. "I get in way too late, don't worry about it --"

His hand cups your cheek and the words sputter out in your throat. "I'll be here," he says again. 

"I'll call you," you say. "When I get there." It sounds like a question.

His eyes crinkle at the corners. "Please do."

"Thanks for the tea --"

"Now, what did I just say?"

You wrinkle your nose at him and he rolls his eyes before leaning in to press his lips to yours. You sigh into the kiss just a little though it remains chaste, mouths closed as his thumb strokes your cheek once, twice, before he pulls away. It's the kind of kiss that feels fond, feels familiar. A kiss that becomes routine and for a second you imgaine the press of your mouths a thousand times over just like this. 

"Safe flight, sweetheart."

You smile at him and grab your suitcase before you stand here kissing him all day. "Bye, Joel." 

6:04 am: you make it to your gate okay?

You send him a picture of your breakfast sandwich and the sun rising through the window, painting the sky purple and orange. 

6:05 am: don't text and drive!

He replies with a photo of a full mug of coffee on his counter. It's a silly one, a dinosaur wearing a Santa hat. You think Sarah got it for him as a gag gift. 

6:05 am: home already. let me know when you land

6:06 am: will do. have a good day!

The flight is pretty okay. You spend the bumpy moments thinking about Joel's hand on your leg and get through it just fine. A shuttle takes you to your hotel and you have to hurry a bit to be ready for your first panel. 

You're busy all day. So tired by the time you get back to your room that you flop on the bed with a groan. 

"Ugh," you say, face smushed into the sheets. You're tired and hungry and...you miss Joel and feel a little silly about it.

That sense of puppy love, as most people would call it, hasn't faded. Your feelings for Joel are more than the crush they were when you first started seeing each other but they still linger in the realm of infatuation. You like to look at him, to feel the solid warmth of him beside you, above you, underneath you. You like being near him. But you're also starting to love things. You love the way his voice sounds when he wakes up, the way he says your name over the phone, the way he asks you what you want, how you are, how your day was. You love to see him on your couch, in your kitchen, in your bed. You've started to miss him when he's not around. 

And what you said to him in his truck is true. You do miss him. It's an ache that sits in the center of your chest, an ache that feels like the best kind of bruise -- because it comes from something good. And because you know it'll be soothed soon enough. 

But, because you're only human, you doubt that it's as serious for him. Joel keeps his cards close to his chest and while you feel like you know him pretty well by now you also have so much to learn. So, though you really want to, you don't pick up the phone and call him. Maybe the next time you're away. 

7:54 pm: day 1 done! ready to get in bed. why do men talk so much?

He texts back immediately. 

7:54 pm: god knows. don't forget to order room service on the company dime. sweet dreams.

You laugh and do as he says. 

The rest of the conference goes the same. By day three you're exhausted and your face hurts from smiling at so many people. Your shoes are no longer comfortable and as soon as the closing keynote ends you're out of there, changing into soft clothes and taking the shuttle to the airport. You text Joel a picture of your airport dinner and then your eye bags and he replies with a cute that has you giggling a little too loudly in public. 

You just want to get home to him. Your own bed is a bonus. 

But then your flight gets delayed. Twice. Joel tells you not to worry, he'll pick you up in the middle of the night if he has to. Once you board you get stuck on the tarmac for another half hour before finally taking off. It's a decidedly less relaxing experience because you're so anxious to be home but you make it. When you land it feels like you're sitting in your seat for ages. You're tired and feel gross and you want to go to bed. Your phone turns back on and you've got one text waiting for you.

10:34 pm: i'll be by baggage claim

That was 15 minutes ago. He must have been checking your flight in the air to get here at a reasonable time. God, you want to touch him. You want to stick your nose in his neck and inhale. 

You try very hard not to run through the terminal to the escalator that goes down to arrivals. It seems to move really fucking slowly once you're on it. As soon as it gets far enough for you to see the baggage claim level and everyone waiting there your eyes search for him. You see some families, a few tired children sleeping in arms that hold them tenderly. A group of girls with a sign that reads WELCOME HOME RACHEL!

And then there's Joel.

Once you spot him it's hard to keep a smile from your face. He's standing there with his hands in his pockets, eyes glued to the escalator. Jeans, jacket, boots, and a firm set to his jaw that might be intimidating to anyone else but to you it's familiar. It's him. Once he sees you he stands a little taller and you see his cheek twitch. If someone wasn't in front of you you'd be down the steps in seconds but you wait until you're at the bottom to race forward. 

It's probably a bit dramatic. You drop your suitcase and backpack at your feet in front of him.

"Hi," you say, and then you throw your arms around his shoulders. Joel laughs. 

"S'like you're comin' home from war, or somethin'," he says, though his hugs you back just as tightly. "Should'a made a sign."

"Feels like it." Your words are muffled by his shoulder. 

"That bad, huh?" His palm drags up and down your spine. "Let's get you home, then."

Neither of you pull away. "I missed you," you say softly. 

Joel breathes deep and pulls away, hand on the back of your head as he makes sure you're looking at him. 

"Missed you, too," he says gruffly. Then he kisses you. It's less chaste than your goodbye kiss but still perfectly acceptable for airport arrivals, you think. 

"You hungry?"

"I sent you a picture of my dinner!"

"Not what I asked." You shrug and tangle your fingers with his. His thumb strokes the back of your hand. "We'll get you somethin' on the way home."

"Do you want to stay over?" you ask in a rush, realizing too late he's got no reason to want to. It's late and tomorrow is a workday. "I'm just gonna shower and go to bed but I--"

Joel's nostrils flare. "If you want me to I will." Simple as that. 

"Okay," you say. He squeezes your hand.

You walk in easy silence for a few moments. Once you're in the car you'll ask how his week was, tell him about the gossip you learned at the conference. You'll look at him the entire drive to your place, drinking your fill of him after three days without. Yeah, you're going to love him. It's just a matter of time.

"Thank you for coming to get me," you say. 

Joel looks like he wants to argue but he allows it.

"Anytime," he says. It sounds like a promise. 

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[disoriented-in-wonderland]

Farmer!Yandere X Reader

After inheriting a house and grocery store from your grandparents after their passing, you are welcomed to the town of Sunset Pines with open arms by a few of the residents.

One of these residents being your helpful neighbor who owns his own farm right next door!

But little do you know about the secrets biding behind his puppy dog eyes or the odd timing he has whenever it seems like you're in trouble or need a helping hand....

----------------------------------------------------------

Tw: Creepy yandere behavior, stalking, etc.

18+ readers ONLY

----------------------------------------------------------

Oh.

You're outside today. 

The farmer watches as you tend to the small garden in front of your house, tearing out the overgrown weeds surrounding the dying peonies left behind by your grandmother.

You pause for a moment and scrub an arm over your forehead, squinting in the direction of the sun.

No doubt you're probably working up a mighty thirst by now.

You're probably dripping with sweat from how hard you're working.

He wishes he could get closer.

Just one whiff of your scent is all he needs to get by.

Maybe he'll dig those dirty clothes out of your hamper when you've tossed them aside. 

He's taken a few things off of the clothesline that you've made use of—though nothing too noticeable—like a few pairs of your undergarments here and there. 

But unlike the hamper where used clothes get tossed aside, the clothes line only offers up clean laundry.

Sure, he likes knowing which detergent you use.

But something with your unfiltered scent? Something that smells purely of just…you?

He'd probably lose his mind if he managed to get something like that, and he's determined to do so, opting to sneak into your house on your next work day.

He knows he'll need the rest of the day to rut into whatever it is that he takes from your hamper.

Shirt? Shorts? Pants? Underwear? 

It doesn't matter.

As long as he can smell you.

The farmer's sorting through plans in his head when he sees you get to your feet and place your hands on your hips as you survey the garden. 

There's still plenty of weed and he watches as your shoulders droop.

The farmer runs a hand through his hair with the glove he uses to tend to his own crops and approaches you with a high pitched whistle. 

“Well, howdy hey! What're you doing out here on this fine summer's day, neighbor?”

You startle and jump a foot in the air. 

The action reminds him of his skittish barn cat—A calico named Peony—and much like her, you relax when you realize it's just him.

You dust your hands off on your shirt. “Oh, hi. Um, sorry. I didn't realize it was you.”

He loves that you're already so comfortable around him.

He'll work harder to make sure you feel the most at ease when in his company. 

“It's no problem at all. I'm the one hooting and hollering on your land. Now what do we have here?” He asks, like he wasn't just watching you tend to your garden and plotting to break into your house. 

“Oh, I'm just doing some gardening. Nothing special, really.”

“ ‘S that so?” He peers over your form, itching to get closer but trying to remember what his grandmommy told him about being a proper gentleman.

No touching without consent. 

But what he wouldn't give for you to give the go ahead.

“Well, how about I lend you a hand and maybe get you something to drink. You look parched.”

“Really? You'd do that?”

The sun makes your eyes sparkle and he's absolutely smitten with how you're looking up at him like he's the only man in the world.

He wants more. 

All of your smiles for him and him alone.

He doesn't want you to smile at anyone else this way.

“Of course! I'm your neighbor after all and we've gotta look out for each other.”

“Thank you so much. That honestly means the world to me.” You say and you've got him blushing and beaming himself as he kneels in front of the choked overgrowth. “I'm going to go inside for a minute, I'll be right back, okay?”

When he nods, you head up the rickety porch steps and…

“Shi- shoot!”

The farmer peers over to see your foot lodged clean through the wood. You try yanking your foot out and his eyes widen with horror.

“Careful now!” He's on his feet in a hot second before he's up the steps and at your side. “We don't want you breaking your ankle or accidentally have you scrape yourself on a rusted nail.”

He's gentle as he helps withdraw your foot from the hole.

When he ensures you're not hurt, playing down the literal terror in his heart at the thought of you getting hurt, he peers up at you.

“You alright there? That was quite the scare, now wasn't it?” 

An understatement given he wanted to tear this entire porch up and replace each plank and nail to keep that from happening ever again.

“I'm okay.” You sigh and turn towards the hole with a deep frown. “I guess I'm going to need to get a repairman to fix this. Not to mention a plumber for the brown water coming out of the faucet…and then there's the shingles…and my car payments due…”

You're biting your lip, juggling a thousand things in your mind when something…forms in the farmers mind. 

An idea of sorts. 

If he helps around the house and your property…

He'll get more time with you…

A lot more.

And maybe he'll get easier access to the inside of your house…and more of those smiles…

The farmer turns and gives you a wink. “Now, now. How's there a need for that when you've got neighbors, right?”

“Don't worry. I'll take care of it for you.”

“All of it.”

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…

I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !

You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wildflowers Grow in Ruins

(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)

Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.

A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.

Wars are exhausting. 

You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.

But waging a war against yourself… 

Now that is pure hell. 

It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.

But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.

He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.

But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.

Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.

The day has finally come to let him go.

You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.

But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.

Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to. 

You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.

But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.

So why is it so hard to let go?

The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today. 

And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.

You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.

Good. 

Good.

Great.

You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.

The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown. 

It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.

Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?

The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.

"I need to talk to you." 

Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.

He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.

"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too. 

This should be easy…

It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.

"I think we should go separate ways."

The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.

"Ok."

It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm. 

"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.

He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.

"Is it because of my work?" 

"No."

"What is it then?"

Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.

Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.

"Hey. Hey."

He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling. 

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?

His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.

And he must hate weakness.

"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows. 

It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.

"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?

"What do you mean?"

He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.

"Have you found someone else?"

What the…

"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"

He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you. 

"I'm just…" 

Jesus, this is just humiliating. 

"I'm just not your type."

"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise. 

He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one. 

Losing you.

"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."

"It's not that. You don't understand–" 

"Try me."

"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"

"Stop right there."

The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.

"Bloody fucking hell…" 

He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven. 

And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"This is the reason you wanna break up?"

Ugh.

"Yes?"

His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing. 

But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.

"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"

"I don't know." 

"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"

"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done. 

"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."

He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.

"Can I touch you?"

You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.

"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.

"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…

"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"

Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.

"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.

"Then why do you think you're not my type?"

"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.

"That for sure ain't true."

"But it is."

He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.

"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to. 

"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"

It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.

"No…?"

"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"

"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.

"No, I don't think I will."

He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.

"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"

You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to… 

It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.

"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."

"Simon–"

"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"

He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is. 

"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."

For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?

"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.

"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."

You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.

"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."

You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.

"Then let me help you."

The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.

"You don't even let me touch you anymore."

It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.

"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."

Oh my God…

Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months? 

That would explain why he has avoided you too…

He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain. 

Jesus fucking Christ.

"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."

"Never seen such a gorgeous mess." 

He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution. 

Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.

"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."

Oh God–

"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."

"Hmh…"

"Don't wanna live without that smile."

You don't have to. 

God, you don't have to…

"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.

"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"

"...Ok." 

He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.

"Come on. Make me believe it."

"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.

"That's my girl."

Oh fuck…

He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly. 

And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?

The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.

"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."

He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.

He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.

He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender. 

No one can fake such fervor.

You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.

"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."

You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.

"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"

"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."

He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.

"Yeah…?"

"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."

His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.

"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."

"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.

"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."

If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.

"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.

"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty. 

"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."

Wow… He is a bit pissed.

Had they checked your ass out when you visited him? 

It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy. 

"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left." 

Whoa. 

Ok…

First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.

You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.

Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…

There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.

"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"

"No. No, I don't want you to stop." 

Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.

He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.

Oh f–

"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in. 

"Uh–...."

Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end. 

"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."

"Oh god…"

There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.

"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you. 

You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.

"Simon–"

His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.

"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."

You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard. 

You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.

"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."

He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.

"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."

The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.

"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"

"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all. 

"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."

Shit…

"I, I'm gonna…"

Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.

He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.

Fucking bastard…

Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core. 

You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.

His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load. 

Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.

"Jesus Christ…" 

He sounds dazed. 

Relieved. 

"Should've done this weeks ago."

You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.

"I should've talked to you weeks ago..." 

"Yeah. You should have."

"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.

"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."

He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even. 

The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…

And love.

[sp0o0kylights]

Wayne takes in a Beat to Shit Steve Harrington after Starcourt as n Owed Favor to Hopper Part 4

Part Three: link

First Chapter (parts 1-3 on tumblr) on A03: Link

The kid was madder than a wet hen.

Just as slippery as one too, when he got like this--music pulsing like a living thing to signal all his rage and upset. 

Not like Wayne hadn’t expected it. 

He just wished it wasn’t quite so damn loud. 

The music had started up almost immediately after Eddie had stormed to his room, startling Steve awake and nearly making Wayne curse for it.

Normally it was a good thing--music meant Eds was willing to listen instead of heading for the hills.  

Normally, they didn't have a house guest who looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a bear.

They had a routine for this, was the thing and the music was a key part of it. It worked all the edges off for Wayne, and he'd long figured out that about thirty minutes was a the perfect length of time for Eddie to stew before he could actually talk things through.

Given the hand Harrington put to his forehead, Wayne wasn't eager to give him that thirty minutes.

Not when Steve deserved little peace he could have.

Unfortunately, so did Eds. 

Still.

 Strutting through the door and demanding to talk right now was a bad move and so, with a sympathetic look given to Steve, Wayne did what he did best

Gave space.

Let Eddie rage, as Wayne got up and shuffled about the kitchen.

Pulled out the soft earplugs he pretended weren’t there for Eds to steal (playing that damn loud guitar all the time could not be good for his ears) and offered them to Steve, before making two cups of what Wayne privately thought was the Munson “chitchat” drink. 

One cup of hot water, one packet swiss miss, a small amount of maple syrup drizzled in, topped with little marshmallows they reserved for these types of situations. 

Wayne took his time with it, thinking through what he wanted to say. 

‘I understand that this is a screen door on a submarine kind of situation...’ 

Nope. 

‘Son I know you hate listening to anyone for anything but this is serious...’ 

Absolutely not--that would end up with the boy bolting for sure. 

‘Ed’s, I love you but could we please turn Ozzy off while we talk? That man wails louder than any damn cat I have ever met.’

That one was purely self indulgent, mostly because the wall was starting to shake. 

Wayne put the finishing touches on the cocoa before staring at both of them. 

Perhaps if he stared the Garfield mug in its eyes hard enough, the right words would come through. 

They did not.

He kept trying, standing there long enough for the cocoa to reasonably have cooled and for Eddie’s song to flip over to something with more screaming in it than singing. 

Wayne supposed that this was the hardest part of being a parent. You just didn’t get to have the magical one liner. The right thing to say at just the right time.  

The joke that would ease all the tension and let things progress forward nice and easy.

Instead, you got to fumble your way through the dark with a flashlight up your ass and hope you were going in the right-ish direction. Ideally without making things worse. 

Wayne was here though, and that had to count for something. 

(Knew it counted for something--because Eddie was still here. 

They had cleared hurdles far higher than this when it came to trust. They’d get through this too, come what may. 

Steve too.)

“Can I just ask,” Eddie started, aggressive as always when Wayne finally gave in and entered his room, feeling all sorts of awful for the migraine Steve had to have, “what the absolute fuck is happening?” 

Sure as fire he was sitting on his bed, leg bouncing a mile a minute.

An unlit cigarette hung between two fingers, looking a little chewed on, but otherwise undisturbed--as it should be, because one of Wayne’s few rules was that smoke stayed outside the house. 

“You could.” Wayne said loudly but agreeably, as he turned himself around and dropped down next to his kid.  

Held out the Garfield mug, and was happy when it was taken from him. 

“Figured you might have other things to say, though.” 

Likely a lot of things. 

It was as good an opening as any, and his kid didn’t disappoint, launching right to it. 

“Why is he here and not at a hospital?”

 ‘Here’ was punctuated by Ed’s hand winging towards the door, and while it wasn’t the righteous fury Wayne expected, it was at least, an easy answer to give. 

“Steve has some people looking for him. Bad people. Hospital makes him an easy target.” 

Wayne was still talking loud. Could only hear Eddie himself because he was looking at the kid’s lips more than he was actually hearing his voice. 

Eddie took that in, swallowing it about as well as he’d swallowed anything he hadn’t liked. 

And thank the stars above, he finally reached a hand out and turned the music down. Not a lot--Steve wouldn’t be able to hear them over all this--but enough that Wayne didn’t have to struggle. 

“We’re hiding him from the cops now?!” Ed’s spat. 

“Cops know he’s here. Hopper’s the one who asked me to take him.” Wayne reminded him, because it was the truth. 

Not the full truth, but given how Ed’s pissed off half the local PD on a good day, Wayne absolutely did not want to see his nephew take on Federal Agents.

(Particularly not the kind who were going ‘round killing kids.) 

“So--what?” Eddie yanked hard on his hair, a gesture that looked less intentional and more like he was trying to fight his own anger down. “Hopper just called you up and said ‘Hey, we had a whoopsie with the rich kid, the hospital’s not safe anymore. Can we stash him with you for a few days?” 

Wayne nodded once, slow-like. 

Always remembered how too fast movements had made Eddie flinch and jerk back when was littler, and given the way Steve was looking, figured it was a good time to be cautious again. 

“He did.”

“And you just--agreed? Just like that!?” 

“I did.” 

He pretended not to see Eddie boggle at him at the simple admission, so furious that he seemed to struggle for words when he normally had too many to say. 

Wayne took advantage. 

“We did talk a bit more than that, I’ll admit.”

Ed’s scoffed. “About the weather I’m sure.” 

“‘Bout trust.” 

Eddie blinked at that. 

“Trust.” He echoed flatly. 

“What have I always told you? People like to ask you to trust them, but you they don’t get to have it until--” 

“They provide proof or a reason.” Eddie finished with an eyeroll. “So which did Hopper provide then?”

Wayne took a noisy sip of his coca. Smacked his lips a little before saying: “Both.” 

Didn’t bother to say anything else, because he knew Eddie would finish the thought for him. 

“One of them was me, wasn’t it.” 

Eds didn’t say it like a question, but Wayne hummed in agreement anyway. 

He wasn’t gonna shame his boy, but he wasn’t gonna sugar coat Eddie’s involvement in this either. Not when he’d already admitted that was half the reason Hopper had gone to Wayne to begin with. 

“No one is expecting Steve to be here.” He said, seeing the chance to hammer home the most important part of this entire shitshow. “So long as no one finds out he’s here, he’ll be safe. Everyone will be safe.” 

Steve from the Feds who were hunting him for while he was busy being involved in shit he couldn’t control and Eddie because he had a mouth that most people didn’t like. 

Not small town people anyway, and absolutely not authority figures with guns. 

“Who’s even after him?” Eddie was theatrical as always, hands waving away as he talked. “Did he make a deal with the mob? Piss off some other rich guy? I know it’s not anything drug related, I’d have heard about it by now.” 

After years of experience, Wayne knew exactly how far to lean away to stay out of range, too used to his nephew talking with his entire body.

“That’s his story to tell ya, Ed’s. It ain’t mine. Same way it ain’t my place to tell him your story.” 

That at least got the boy to think for a minute. Put down that frustration he carried with him all the time, and use the brain they both knew he had. 

“How long is he staying here?”

Wayne shrugged. “Don’t know.” 

Eddie sighed and mockingly mimicked Wayne, taking an obnoxious slurp of his cocoa. “The neighbors are going to notice if he’s here more than a few days. The trailer park isn’t exactly big.” 

“They didn’t notice that time you decided to make fireballs with the cooking spray and about blew up half the driveway. Don’t think they’re gonna notice someone being quiet in the house.” 

Eddie snorted, and probably rolled his eyes again, not that Wayne could see it given the kid was looking into his own mug as he thought it all through. 

Wayne sat with him as he processed. 

Eds worked at his own pace with things, and while life at large might be against that, Wayne was happy to let him do it. Found it easier that way, then trying to poke and prod and force him like so many father figures did. 

Wayne’s patience was rewarded not even a full minute later, when Eddie turned to him and asked; 

“What if he finds out?”  

This in a quieter voice. An unsure one--words and body hunching in a way unlike the Eddie the world outside knew, but very much like the little boy Wayne had brought inside his home. 

It took Wayne  a moment to connect the dots--he’d been speaking out of the place parents and authority figures often do, and in doing so hadn’t thought much of the fact his nephew had a real secret. 

The kind small town minds didn’t like--and would kill him over. 

This all wasn’t about Wayne taking in Steve, he realized abruptly.  It was that Steve being here meant Eddie couldn’t be himself. 

Could not relax in a place he was accepted for who he was, because Wayne knew and made sure Eddie understood he was wanted here, had a place here, regardless of who he loved. 

Now, Wayne had gone and removed it.

‘Shit.’ 

“He won’t.” Wayne said. 

Knew that wasn’t enough, and so, promised: “But if he does, I’ll make sure he understands his safety here relies on your own.” 

Ed’s chin jerked in a nod, the two of them sitting in silence for a moment before the boy did as he often did when he wanted a hug but felt too awkward to ask for one, and tipped himself into Wayne’s side. 

“Thanks old man.” Eddie whispered into his shoulder and not for the first time, Wayne wished things were easier for the poor kid as he put his mug in one hand and hugged his kid with the other. 

Hoped that in the future, it would be.

Even if he had to force everyone and everything coming after him--and now Steve--to do it.

(Wondered vaguely, how bad it was that he was already getting as protective as Steve as he was of his own kid.

Probably very, given his kid clearly hated Harrington.)

xXx

Wayne took the first night of Steve’s stay off.

He wasn’t the type to use his PTO lightly. Was used to rationing it for any possible thing Eddie might need him for.

A night up sick when he was younger, to a night spent chasing him down during some of their bad spots--but the last year or so Wayne had slowly realized he hadn’t had to use it much.

He was still careful with it though, precious as it was, and was thankful for it now as it ensured his nephew didn’t murder their house guest. 

Or at the very least, didn't sit there pecking at him.

The kid might've failed English a few times, but he had a real gift with words and an even better one with insults.

(Wayne wasn't quite clear on what all the "King" jabs were about, and absolutely did not get why Steve looked far more hurt at the comment about his "sad ass floppy hair" but given the increasingly flat look Steve was throwing Eddie's way, Wayne figured it couldn't be anything good.)

Thankfully a pointed reminder about Steve's injuries had finally gotten them all some peace, enough for Harrington to drop back to sleep--and for Wayne to realize he looked a little too dead while he did it to be comfortable getting any sleep himself.

The kids chest barely moved, and that it ate at Wayne’s until he got up and shoved a hand under his nose. 

Felt his breath, and told himself the poor sod was fine. 

Hurt, absolutely, but alive. 

Over and over again, until the sun had made its rotation in the sky, bringing the morning with it.

‘Better than nightmares, I suppose.’ Wayne figured, as exhaustion scraped at his eyelids.

Those Wayne knew, would come later. When Steve’s brain caught up to the rest of him, and stopping dumping survival chemicals through his battered body. 

He'd given up on sleep entirely sometime around 1 am, and now he sat at his small kitchen table, writing out a medication schedule for Harrington so he and the kid both knew when he could have his next Tylenol. 

Wasn’t even halfway through it before Eddie made his typically late appearance and blew through his door. 

Had his back up from the moment he’d stepped a foot in the kitchen and it didn’t take a genius to see he’d worked himself into a snit again.

Unfortunately for him, whatever scenario that imaginative brain of his had cooked up fell flat to the reality that was the poor kid on the couch. 

Steve Harrington was one a hell of a sight.

Didn’t help that he was doing his level best to make himself as small as possible, curled deep into Wayne's ancient couch.

The blankets covered the ribs and hid away most of the damage, but there wasn’t much Steve could do to hide the shiners on his face--or the marks around his neck.  

Not when they’d grown worse overnight, practically inviting questions.

It was almost laughable how quickly Eddie ate whatever words he’d prepared, mouth awkwardly chewing around them as if they were tangible. 

The less-than-sneaky looks he threw at the younger teen were equally amusing, and if Wayne wasn’t trying to peace keep, he’d have given in and chuckled when Eds split attention caused him to pour half his coffee into the sink rather than a cup. 

Looked utterly lost when, after finishing putting his coffee together and grabbing some junk food thing that absolutely was not a breakfast item, he came to stand awkwardly at Wayne's shoulder, openly staring as Steve blatantly ignored him.

Eds didn’t know what to do, and Wayne couldn't blame him. 

Seemed to keep thinking he was going to encounter a boy that likely no longer existed, and whose blood tinged specter just made things sad.

Shit like this, Wayne knew, took a man’s ego and warped it, shaping it to something else entirely. 

At least for Steve, it seemed that getting wrapped up in whatever mess he had had shaped him for the better, instead of pretzeling him into something worse. That, Wayne thought, spoke to the boy's character more than anything he’d done prior. 

(It helped to know what Hopper tolerated and what he didn’t. That he’d vouched for Steve in the same way Wayne knew he’d vouched for Eddie, even if Eddie didn’t yet realize the cop he antagonized so much would do that for him.) 

That didn't erase the history his kid had with Harrington, though.

Wouldn't stop him from seeing the old Steve, first.

‘Don’t you got school?” Wayne asked when he decided Ed had stared enough. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie waved him off, trotting out the door. “Bye old man, house parasite!” 

It was clearly a jab, meant to nettle, but Steve barely acted like he heard it. 

Wayne rolled his eyes. 

“Goodbye, Eds.” He said firmly, much of a warning as he ever gave, and fondly watched his nephew scuttle out the door. 

Turned to see how Steve was taking things, and was once again given a reminder that Steve wasn’t doing a hell of a lot other than feeling his injuries. 

“I think I promised you a game, son.”  Wayne said gently, startling Steve out of the distant, dim look he had trained on the wall. 

It wasn’t a lot to offer in terms of a distraction, but it would have to do.

[pathologicalreid]

could you do a third part to buried alive where the reader finally gets a bit better and goes out into the field for the first time and then the team goes and gets drinks after bc they are so proud of her :) -🌱

back again | S.R.

part one | part two

in which you go back into the field (and kick ass)

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category? angst and then fluff

content warnings: established relationship. PTSD undertones. guns and physical fighting. reader is paired with morgan and kicks ass. usual cm case stuff. going to a bar and alcohol consumption. use of 'ass'. reader is referred to as a girl.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: hey anon i love you!!! i never expected people to like this story so much, but im so grateful i hope you enjoy!! thanks for reading <3 don't forget to like and reblog <3333333333

It felt good. Standing outside of a suspect's house with Morgan felt normal to you, having your firearm holstered, felt right.

He was trying to get ahold of the team, but the two of you were far from the town and, apparently, cell service. “The call keeps dropping, but they know where we are. They should be on their way,” he told you, getting out of the car. “If you’re uncomfortable going in, you don’t have to.”

You rolled your eyes and got out of the SUV. “I’ve got your back,” you responded self-assuredly. It was your first case back in the field, and besides, you weren’t about to let Derek walk into the lion's den alone.

Despite your attempt at confidence, you hadn’t planned on going to a suspect's house. The two of you had been on your way back from talking to a victim’s family, meaning you didn’t have vests. “I know you do,” Morgan confirmed, removing his sunglasses and snapping the temples down. “Go around back, I’ll take the front,” he said.

Nodding, you unholstered your weapon and kept it pointed toward the ground, you took a deep breath before wrapping around the white farmhouse.

Paranoid thoughts pelted your brain. Did you remember to shut off your phone’s ringer? What if the suspect had a gun? What if the information you were given was wrong and you didn’t have probable cause?

You shook your head, peeking in through the open blinds, you saw the kitchen. The town you were in was on the smaller side, and the only thing that surrounded you was farmland. You saw movement out of the corner of your eye and wished you had been given more time to prepare, having comms right now would be remarkably helpful.

Approaching the back door, you leaned against the siding before reaching over and turning the doorknob. It was already unlocked, which could either be a good thing or a bad thing. You swung the door open and stepped inside the house, pointing your Glock around the kitchen, you saw Morgan entering the living room in your peripheral vision. “Clear!” You called out, and shortly after, Morgan called the same.

Once you had cleared the main floor, Morgan moved upstairs and you moved downstairs, pulling your flashlight from your belt, you pointed it down the steps.

“Jackson Fike this is the FBI,” you called, making yourself known. You reached the bottom of the stairs, just to see another door, wide open. “Damn it,” you cursed, “Morgan, he’s running!” You shouted, hoping your voice would be able to carry up two flights of stairs.

You pocketed your flashlight and took off running out the door. Distantly, you saw a man fitting the suspect's description sprinting towards the woods. Without a second thought, you followed, expecting Derek to be not far behind you.

Thankfully, it was still light outside, the scent of the damp earth filled your senses, but it didn’t overwhelm you. You wouldn’t let it.

You skidded to a halt in the forest, keeping your back to a tree so you could be attacked from behind, “Jackson Fike, you can’t keep running like this. You know as well as I do that the road ends here.” You spoke loudly, hoping he heard you from wherever he had disappeared into the woods.

His choices here boiled down to giving himself up or being on the run for the rest of his life. Based on the profile the team had put together, he would never be able to leave this town. Not by choice, at least.

The snap of a twig gave his location away, you twisted your body in the direction of the noise. Your ears perked up like a bloodhound. “Jackson, if you come with me and tell me where the girls are, maybe I could see about keeping you close to home. Close to your house, that’s what’s important, right?” You tried to negotiate with him. You didn’t know if he was armed, but you did know that suicide by cop wasn’t in his profile. It was also less paperwork if you cuffed him without a fight.

“You can’t make me that promise, agent,” he responded. His voice was gravelly despite only being in his late thirties. “Why would I negotiate with a fed when I could just kill one instead?” He asked.

His question sent a chill down your spine all the way down to where your handcuffs rested on your back. “You’re right,” you ceded, “You’d be worshipped in prison for killing a fed, but why take that chance?”

In a flash, the UnSub smacked your wrist, causing a misfire into the trees, and making your weapon hit the ground.

That was fine, your marksmanship was good enough to pass your qualifications, but hand-to-hand was where you really excelled. He charged at you, but you jumped out of the way.

Closer to the farmhouse you heard voices, but you didn’t let yourself get distracted. Instead, you used your one boxing lesson with JJ and kicked. The inside of your foot provided enough surface to daze your opponent, he stumbled around, and you made sure to keep both of your feet firmly planted to the ground.

He swung back, but you ducked just in time to feel the breeze of his swing against your face. In response, you swung back, hitting him across the face.

Jackson retaliated, using both hands to push you into a tree, crushing your shoulder but not doing anything to stop you from throwing another hit, striking him on the head, and causing him to fall to the ground. He groaned as you crouched down and pulled your cuffs out, fastening them around his wrists.

As you read him his rights, the local police and the rest of your team approached you. Emily looked at you warily, Spencer was searching for injuries, but Morgan was grinning. He was like a giddy little kid who had heard the ice cream truck turn on his street.

Handing off the UnSub to a local, you eyed Morgan suspiciously, “What are you smiling at?” You asked, rotating your shoulder in a failed attempt to make it feel better.

“You took that guy down,” Derek said, gesturing to where the police officer was now taking the UnSub.

Confused, you shrugged, “Yeah, and?”

He laughed again, “Oh, you are so back, pretty girl.”

A flight later, you were hunched over takedown paperwork, something you certainly hadn’t missed during your time away from the field. At the desk adjacent to yours, Spencer was flipping through a book, waiting for you so you could go home.

After initialing each page and signing the last one, you placed the papers into the confidential file. Going up the stairs to Hotch’s office, you knocked on the door, “Come in.”

You stepped into the office and reached over to hand him the file, “My takedown paperwork for Jackson Fike.”

He nodded, the stern look on his face fading as he looked at you, “You did impressive work today, Y/L/N. By taking the initiative to arrest Fike, you saved the three girls he had captive.”

Shrugging, you fiddled with his nameplate, “I just did what felt right.”

“Other agents would’ve shot him, and it would’ve been justified, but you didn’t,” Hotch said, raising his eyebrows. “It’s good to see you out in the field again,” he told you in that fatherly, parental tone of his.

You looked out the window of his office, “It’s good to be back out, sir.” Watching as the rest of the team gathered back into the bullpen, “I thought everyone had already left?”

Hotch set your file down and stood from his desk, “I believe they were all waiting for you in Garcia’s office.”

Confused, you walked outside of the office and down the steps, “Hey?” You said cautiously, looking around at everyone, “What’s going on?” You looked at Spencer, but he just shrugged like he didn’t know any more than you did.

“We,” Derek said, “are going to O’Keefe’s,” he said, grinning as you reached over your desk to grab your bag and your coat.

Shoving your arms through the sleeves of your coat, you looked at the team curiously, “I’m getting the sense that I don’t have much of a choice in this outing.”

Grinning, Penelope excitedly walked towards you, looping her arm through yours and leading you out of the bullpen, “you don’t!”

You laughed, looking back at Spencer, who was just smiling at you. It wasn’t in your nature to turn down what Emily called ‘team bonding’, so the lot of you went to the familiar bar, a place you hadn’t been in nearly four months.

At the same table as always, standing room only with the eight of you, Rossi paid for all of your preferred drinks. Something you had learned to not protest over the years, as long as he was there, he’d never let you pay for your drinks.

Casually, Spencer had his arm around your waist, the two of you were more affectionate outside of the office. “How’s your shoulder?” He asked, gently skimming the pad of his thumb over the sensitive skin. Naturally, Spencer didn’t say anything in front of the team when you mentioned being shoved into a tree, but behind closed doors, he had asked to take a look at it.

You hummed in response, leaning into his touch, “Better, just bruised a bit.”

He dropped his hand back down to your waist, “good,” he whispered, ducking his head, and pressing a kiss to your cheek, causing you to smile.

Grabbing your attention, Derek cleared his throat and raised his glass in your general direction. “Tonight is about you, pretty girl,” he said, causing everyone else to turn to you. Your cheeks burned, “not only did you kick some UnSub ass, but you threw yourself back into the field after months on the sidelines.”

At your side, Spencer squeezed your hip, you were grinning like a fool.

“It has been an honor to be able to watch you reclaim yourself. I, for one, am proud of that accomplishment,” Morgan continued. “I hope you’re proud of yourself, too.”

You nodded enthusiastically, “Thank you. All of you, really.” You reached forward where everyone was clinking their glasses before taking a sip. Setting your glass down, you turned and looked at Spencer, “I love you,” you whispered to him.

He dropped a kiss to your lips, earning a whoop from Garcia. When he pulled away, he smiled at you softly, “I love you too.”

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Head Canons:

Denial of Desire

Yandere Vampiress x Henchman Fem Reader

TW: comphet, internalized homophobia, denial of feelings, yearning, slowly slippping into madness, yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship, murder (threatened), etc.

Ophelia often dismissed you despite your constant concern of her well being. You knew she was a vampire and a mistress of the night, but she consistently put herself in danger. You once loved Ophelia, yet you knew she was straight. It would be rude to impose your feelings on your mistress when she only held distaste for you. Especially since you were nothing more than a servant to Ophelia.

Whether it was to hunt for food or to bring some random man back to her manor, you always had to clean up the mess. It started to get on your nerves since you were still new to being a vampire yourself… yet you had no interest in drinking human blood. Not like Ophelia did.

“Your cleaning skills are subpar. Can’t you do it any better?” Ophelia nagged you as she kicked over your mop bucket with her black pinkie wickers. You sighed, hours of work now ruined in mere seconds.

“My lady, I was simply on the first round of mopping. This quite difficult to remove old blood from the walls and floor.”

“Then find a better way to do it. I need to fetch my next victim soon and I don’t want them to see this mess.” Ophelia gestured to you and the filthy floor. “If you have any complaints, you can simply leave.”

You bowed your head and frowned. No matter how kind you were to your mistress or how you did your best to meet her demands, it was never enough. You were never enough.

“Apologies, I’ll keep cleaning.” You went back to scrubbing the walls and floor. You couldn’t let her rudeness get to you… not until you found a new master at least. Ophelia would be hosting a vampire ball by the end of the week so you may have your chance to flee then?

Ophelia studied your form before she smiled. You never complained no matter how rude she was to you, it was a trait she adored about you. She wished every servant was like you. It would make her life less stressful then… except she knew you were her favorite. You always dutifully fulfilled your every command in a timely manner… Ophelia was positive you’d always stay by her side. Why would you ever leave your mistress? She made you.

Ophelia had brought yet another man home and quickly whisked him up to her room without sparing you a glance. You shook your head at her antics before you decided to explore the manor’s garden to tend to. Despite now being a creature of the night, you still retained your love for gardening. It was just a shame you could never see the flowers under the sunlight again…

Ophelia on the other hand, couldn’t even get past kissing with this man. He was just like all the others before him… no matter what she did, it felt wrong. Being with men made her feel sick to her stomach and the vampiress didn’t understand why.

All her life, her parents told her she’d find a man one day and she could turn him into a vampire to be with her… yet all of them were subpar. Their genitalia disgusted her and they were far too hairy for her. Everything about men was gross other than their blood. That’s all they seemed to be good for…

Ophelia wiped her mouth from yet another messy meal, the vampiress made her way to her balcony to study her night garden. And that’s when she spotted you. What were you doing down there?

Ophelia studied your form as you trimmed up some of the bushes and tended to the flowers. You were so soft looking compared to the men. Soft and delicate like the petals of the roses below… forever young and beautiful thanks to Ophelia. You’d never have to age or worry about sickness. In Ophelia’s mind, she saved you. Yet why did you always look so sad? Was her company not enough for you?

Ophelia rested her arms on her balcony, her red eyes scanned your sullen form in thought. She wondered if her night would be different if it was you beneath her and not the many men she’s brought to her room. If your skin was as soft as it looked… if you were sensitive and lovely- no!

Ophelia shook her head and pushed herself from the balcony in haste. The vampiress ran a pale hand through her Snow White locks in horror. Why would she think of you in such a way? You were another woman… you weren’t a man. You were soft and sweet like fruit but she couldn’t have you. She couldn’t sleep with you because you were a woman. And Ophelia wasn’t a lesbian… she couldn’t be. She had to produce a pure blood vampire, it was her destiny.

Yet her impure thoughts said otherwise. Ophelia knew the truth deep down… she loved you. It’s why she was so mean to you. It was to try to scare you away.

When the ball came around, Ophelia’s breath hitched when she spotted you in your dress. How could someone look so lovely? If she still had a beating heart, she was sure it would burst

Ophelia did her best to ignore you at the ball but her eyes often shifted to you as you danced with other vampires… how could you dance so carefree with other women? Didn’t you feel shame like she did?

It was when Ophelia hung out with a young couple of pure blood vampires that she questioned herself. This couple consisted of two women? Two female vampires could be together? It was okay to be… she had no idea she could make that choice.

Ophelia felt tears gather in her eyes as the two pure bloods reassure her that it was okay to like other women. That they were immortal creatures who could do whatever they pleased.

And that was all it took for Ophelia to go running after you. The vampiress had to confess, she had to tell you how she felt-

Ophelia nearly fell to the floor when she saw you kissing another vampiress. Her dead heart dropped to her feet in shock when you ran your fingers through the other woman’s black locks. You… you were hers. You were her servant and no one else’s!

Ophelia wanted to kill this vampire you touched! How dare she touch you when you were her property! You cannot be with anyone other than Ophelia, herself!

Ophelia rushed forward and separated you from the other vampire. Her breathing ragged and her white hair in disarray. “I am in need of your assistance this instant. You do not have time to fraternize with the other candies here.”

You can’t even protest as Ophelia dragged you away by your arm. You’re speechless when Ophelia dragged you up the stairs towards her room.

“Mistress-“ You’re suddenly thrown to her bed, unable to scramble away since Ophelia lunged at you.

“I hate you…” Ophelia cried. “I hate how you make me feel. How I can’t get you out of my mind.”

“Mistress-“ Ophelia pressed her lips against yours with fervency. Her hands hungrily grasped at your flesh. You’re absolutely gobsmacked at this transgression. What?

“I hate you so much because I love you. I love you so much, it makes me crazy.” Ophelia muttered into your lips. “And I don’t care who I have to kill or what I have to do, I won’t let anyone else have you.”

[xythlia]

𓏲 ࣪₊➷ CAN I GET A KISS, CAN YOU MAKE IT LAST FOREVER?

› thinking about being the cute younger teacher & how much of a determined freak satoru would become learning ur a virgin idk he's ruining the idea of any other man for u babe

› satoru x f!reader

› word count : 2.5k+

warnings : loss of virginity, porn with a dash of plot if u squint, unprotected sex, cervix fucking, fingering, biting/hickies, alcohol consumption, praise, use of pretty girl/baby, not edited I needed to get this out of me like a possession victim getting an exorcism

You decided Satoru Gojo was a pervert.

It was made all the more embarrassing by the fact that you were a virgin, wholly inexperienced and totally at the mercy of his unending teasing. The little jabs he'd manage to work into conversation, or that he'd say in passing with that particularly cheery tone. It always made your chest burn hot with a strange mixture of desire and discomfort.

You should've never said yes to going out with the other instructors for a drink that night. Should've said something, anything when Ieiri burst out with "holy shit, you are a virgin aren't you?" but instead you'd drunkenly shied away, eyes wobbly and looking anywhere but at your fellow teachers.

It was all the confirmation he needed.

The days that followed made you think surely you should schedule a check up, Saturo without a doubt had a negative impact on the levels of cortisol in your brain but at the same time when you'd wearily collapse in bed at night he was still on your mind. Those whispered, teasing jokes about your lack of experience stuck on loop in your brain paired with thoughts of how experienced he must be in contrast.

Would he work your body over in ways that would make you sob into your pillow? The loose image of it alone was enough to leave you with a sore clit as your eyes drifted closed, your fingers still slick as his voice curled around your brain to drag you off into dreams so depraved they made you sweat getting dressed in the morning, feeling embarrassed about having to look him in the face during the day.

A part of you wished, again, that you'd have said no to getting another drink with him. Shouldn't have giggled like a school girl at the suggestion of coming back home with him, shouldn't have so brazenly straddled his lap while the faint aftertaste of gin clung to your lips as his tongue mapped your own in a sloppy, burning kiss.

The way his body was still so completely relaxed beneath your tense one intimidated you. You felt embarrassed at the idea of how awkward and jerky your movements must be, sure you'd kiss before but never with someone who so clearly wanted to devour you whole. It was comforting though that his hands didn't stray from your waist, as if he was acutely aware of your anxiety. Although the way his lithe fingers drew circles against your skin, slipped beneath your shirt, and dug into your flesh still made your hands shake against his chest.

"Sa-" you started to say his name but the breath was snatched from your lungs in another heated kiss, the way he overrode each of your senses.

Sliding his tongue past your lips again, somehow in the same lighthearted way he'd teased you. When his hands drifted down, out from your shirt, under your skirt to trace the hem of your panties against your ass you froze.

Without you needing to say anything he pulled back, and a fresh tidal wave of anxiety beat against your mind. You know he's hard, can feel it pressing against you through your clothes. He was the first man to hold you, touch you, make you feel like you'd swallowed hot embers that now seared low in your tummy.

You suddenly felt burdensome, ridiculous for instigating something you weren't sure you could finish. Guilt also mingled in your head, it was hardly fair to go through all this set up just to back out at the last second. Would he be upset with you?

You caught your bottom lip in your teeth, eyes searching his catastrophic blue ones for signs of upset. But none existed there, only meeting your gaze plainly and with an air of calm, like he knew this was going to happen.

Shyly you averted your eyes, holding contact with him for too long made your liquor buzzed brain feel like static shocks were rolling over it. Your breathing hitched as you whispered in the half dark.

"You... you can touch me."

The silence was deafening, making your palms grow damp.

You caught his blue eyes widening in faux shock, a lazy grin dancing across his lips. "Really? Can I touch you there?"

Your ears burned in humiliation as you pouted at him. "Don't say it like that!"

Your indignation was cut off into a small yelp as he manhandled you into sitting with your back pressed against his chest. Your head spun as he wiggled your panties down, inch by inch, fingers leaving scorched trails on your thighs. His arm came to rest against your tummy, one hand still at your thigh as he spread your legs with his.

His breath fanning against the back of your neck made gooseflesh rise across your arms.

"W-wait," you stammered.

He hummed over your shoulder, his voice dripping with arousal. "What now, hm?"

It would make you more nervous if you couldn't hear the smile in his voice.

"Wanna take care of you," you say leaning your head back so you could see more of his face. Satorus eyes were full of amusement.

"Do you know how to, pretty girl?" His hand caressed the underside of your jaw, thumb swiping across your lips.

"Sorta," you mumbled, chest feeling fuzzy at the thought, vaguely recalling porn you'd watched forever ago.

"Sorta?" He snickered. "What happens if you choke huh?"

Your mind went as fuzzy as your chest, something told you hes hardly the type to exaggerate his size. That and you could feel his erection pressing into your back.

"Pinky promise I won't choke," you whisper, making yourself breathless already imagining what he'd look like in your hands.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," he spoke against the shell of your ear sending shivers down your spine. "There's plenty of time."

His words were punctuated by feather light swipes of his index against your inner thigh, making you jump in his hold. Your breathing sped up, eyes fluttering closed and you gasped as his fingertips ghosted through your slick arousal, spreading your folds before concentrating on your clit.

It felt like a live wire pressed against you, tearing a sharp gasp from your lungs as you fought the urge to snap your legs closed. Meek whimpers rose in your throat as he barely circled around your clit, pressing soft kisses to your temple as your back arched ever so slightly away from his chest.

"Feels good?" He hummed against your skin.

You couldn't articulate words to answer with because at the same time he slipped his index inside you, so slowly you could feel his knuckles sliding past the ring of muscle as your body eagerly accepted the intrusion.

If you had the wherewithal you might have been embarrassed at how badly your legs shook with just that little taste, but thanks to his ministrations there was no room inside your head for anything except how good he made you feel. Gingerly he started stroking against your slick walls, clearly enjoying the way you squirmed on his lap and inadvertently pressed your ass down firmly against his painfully hard erection.

A breathy laugh came from above your head as he slid in the second finger, your hazy eyes seeing hungry amusement dancing in his own. Your lips parted, one hand coming to clutch his forearm in a tight grip but he never slowed the scissoring of his fingers inside you.

"Can't use your words?," he teased.

"Want more," you gasped out as your hips began rolling in fits and starts, awkwardly trying to chase more stimulation from him.

"Lemme take care of you, yeah?" He said as he pulled his fingers away. The absence of him made you whine again in response, but you didn't have time to pout as he helped you ease onto your back, his deft hands helping to strip you and toss your clothes somewhere across the room.

The only thing left on you was the pencil skirt you'd worn out, now bunched up around your abdomen as you laid in the dark, eyes taking him in as he pulled off his shirt, the blindfold also yanked from his neck and lost to the carnivorous floor.

This time it was you playing the role of pervert, eyes wide and drinking in the sight of him from chest to abs to the waist of his pants barely showing the top of his hips. Leaning back he undid the fabric confines with quick movements, letting his cock spring free to lightly slap against his abdomen. Your throat suddenly felt parched taking in his pretty, flushed tip as his hand gave a few quick pumps but his lilting voice snapped you out of your trance.

"That face your making's pretty lewd," you knew he was teasing again, seeing his teeth flash in the half dark as he came down to brace his arms on either side of your head. "It's actually really damn hot."

Your toes curled from the embarrassment at being caught ogling him so nakedly but who could blame you? You could tell from his grin he knew he was attractive, enjoyed making you drool over him.

You let out an content sigh while tilting your head back against the pillows as you felt his cock start to grind against you. The feeling of his weight on you was intoxicating on its own but you were itching for him, impatient to feel him inside you, eager to know exactly how he felt.

His fingers reached down again to spread your folds, middle finger swirling around in your slick. "You're already such a mess." He almost held a tone of awe.

He kissed his way from your cheek to your lips, grinning into the kiss as you spread your legs wider in restless anticipation. Using one hand he dragged your arms to lace behind his neck, resituating himself as he felt your fingers dig into his back already.

"Hold on to me." He could've told you to dive head first into the Pacific and you would've without thought. Satoru pressed another soft kiss to your forehead, a reassurance as you felt the first stitches of pain as the head of his cock nudged its way past your entrance. Your head tipped back, pressing against the pillow as your mouth dropped open.

Your cunt instantly clamped down on him, earning a few pants as he pressed his face against the side of your neck.

"You gotta relax, baby," he whispered raggedly against your ear.

You whimpered. "Can't-"

"You okay? Need you to look at me." He cooed, nudging his nose against yours until you opened your eyes already swimming with tears.

"S'okay, you know I got you, right?"

You nodded, feeling every bit like a crybaby as you clung to his shoulders. You cried out again as he pressed deeper, feeling your rigid walls relax into a smooth, throbbing pulse around him as he slowly bottomed out inside you. Your chest felt heavy, mind somewhere beyond empty as you reveled in just how full he made you feel, your nerves alight feeling him nudging against your cervix.

The pain ebbed with your every exhale, your pussy easing up on its stranglehold letting him know he could move.

"Knew you were a good girl," his light praises made your nails scratch against his warm skin. "Gonna take it all, right?"

His lips devoured yours before you could respond, nipping at your bottom lip before marking a sloppy trail down the column on your throat.

"Wanna hear you make those pretty noises again, can you do that for me?" He spoke between each hot press of his lips against your skin. It felt like you were on fire, doused in sweat and helpless against the feeling of him rocking against your hips.

Little did you know it would be ingrained in his head forever, the feeling of you clenched around him and practically dripping down his twitching balls.

Your hand slid up to tangle in his hair as he found a rhythm, slow deep thrusts that tore moans from deep down in your diaphragm. The smack of his hips against yours made you feel like you were melting apart in a sticky puddle, like hardened sugar powerless to warm water.

The sound of skin smacking felt dreamlike and far away as your eyes screwed shut, fingers tugging at his snowy locks.

Stickiness spreads, hot and thick, throughout your body turning your mind into a sluggish mess and you swore you could feel your heartbeat through your entire body, thrumming in time with every one of Satorus thrusts.

"Fuck," he groaned, "You really know how to get me going." He was unabashedly thrilled to be the one to reduce you to a teary moaning mess, the very first to ever witness it. Equally exciting was the thought that he was the one getting to mold you to his cock, claim you and make sure nobody else could ever make you feel as good.

Your voice was cracking, wobbly on the verge of wailing and you dragged him down to you, frantic lips on any patch of skin you could reach before sinking your teeth into his shoulder after a particularly brutal thrust had him hitting you just right, enough to make stars dance behind your eyelids.

As your pussy clamped down again one of his hands slid down to roughly circle your aching clit, making you squeal and release his shoulder. Rough groans rose from his lips, tongue lapping at the now blooming red splotches on your neck from his previous nips to the skin.

"Gonna make sure I'm the only one who can take care of you."

His words barely reached your ears as you sobbed feeling something like pressure pop deep inside your tummy, wailing his name like a prayer all the whole his fingers never left your clit and his hips never slowed, fucking you through your orgasm.

"Hold on baby, I gotta pull out-"

"No," you hiccuped, delirium curling through the word and making his head drop, teeth gritting feeling your slick heat sucking him back in and your legs locked around his hips.

Your distant, glassy eyes and sweat sheened skin made the case for you, he wasn't going to deny you, the pretty little thing blubbering for him so sweetly against the mattress. But his right mind won out, pulling out at the last second to give himself a few harsh pumps before spilling hot and thick across your belly.

Your unfocused eyes watched him stroke himself dry, feeling the slick mess between your thighs and the little pin pricks of soreness along your throat. It took some time to feel like you'd regained any control of your body, bones feeling more like jello as Satoru toweled you off.

That amused grin stayed lodged on his face as he laid beside you, pulling you over so you were curled against his side.

You whined, small and cracked as your hand rested against his chest, the steady beat of his heart helping to ground you.

"What's the matter?" He mused, dragging his fingers up and down your back. "Can't do anything unless you tell me."

As you mumbled your request, eyes closed and avoiding his gaze, he broke out into a cocky laugh.

"There's always next time, don't worry your pretty little head."