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hintsofhoney · 6 months

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Ladies With Experience

Paring(s): Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: When Dean makes an off-handed comment about "preferring ladies with experience", you try (and fail) to not let it get under your skin. You're a virgin, but you've done just about everything else, and when you talk to Dean about it, he offers to be your first. He's your best friend, and you've been in love with him forever... who are you to deny him?

Tags: smut, first time, virgin!reader, dom/sub dynamics, dom!dean, p in v, oral (female receiving), spanking, fingering, not-so-innocent reader

Word Count: 5k

A/N: As always, thank you to my loves @wayward-dreamer and @makeadealwithdean for beta-ing. Would be nowhere without you two 🥰

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“Anyways, let’s say you’re right, fine. Who would want virgins?”

You know Sam didn’t mean it like that , and you felt stupid for letting it bother you. For letting this case bother you.

“You got me,” Dean replied with a shrug. “I prefer ladies with experience.”

And there it was, like a punch straight to the gut. You hated that it hurt you as much as it did. So what, you’ve never had sex. But you’ve done almost everything else. You knew what you liked and what you didn't. You’ve been around the block a few times with the various sex toys in your nightstand drawer. It’s not like you weren’t experienced at all . But that didn’t make Dean’s words hurt any less. You swallowed down the burger and fries from lunch that were threatening to come up, before standing up from your seat at the small motel room table.

The brothers looked at you, eyebrows raised.

“I — bathroom,” you managed, before quickly making your way there, slamming the door shut behind you.

Staring at your reflection in the dirty bathroom mirror, you let the tears fall. Silently, you wiped them away as Dean’s words echoed in your head, and you hated that you loved him. Hated that you’d never be ballsy enough to admit it to him, especially now.

Something like five minutes passed and you knew you didn’t have long before one of the boys — likely Sam — would come knocking to check on you. You flushed the unused toilet so they wouldn’t suspect anything and turned on the faucet, splashing your tear-soaked face with cold water before using a hand towel to wipe it dry. When you emerged, the guys were packing up their duffels.

“Did you find them?” you asked, hopeful.

Dean checked his gun, before flipping the safety on and stuffing it in the back waistband of his jeans.

“I sure as hell hope so, ‘cause if I’m about to crawl through the goddamn sewers for nothing —”

“They’re down there, Dean,” Sam replied, giving him a pointed look. He turned his attention to you, and if he had noticed anything off, he hadn’t let his face show it. “You coming?”

You grabbed your gun off the dresser and holstered it in reply.

Six hours later, the three of you were sweaty, panting, and splattered in blood after a close fight with dragons in the sewers. Thankfully, you hadn’t had to wade in any actual sewage. You hadn’t said a word to either brother since you had gone to the bathroom six hours ago, and to keep them from growing suspicious of your sudden silence, you opted to take a nap in the backseat of the Impala on the way back to the motel.

You stirred awake as Dean pulled into the parking lot, barely conscious enough to catch the end of the brothers’ conversation.

“I’ll get her,” Dean said.

Sam nodded and got out of the car, gently closing the passenger side door before heading inside.

You rubbed your eyes, blinking away the sleep in them as Dean’s face came into focus. He was looking at you over his shoulder, one arm resting on the top of the front bench seat.

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

It took a moment for the feeling you had been filled with prior to your nap to come back to you, his words from earlier echoing in your head. I prefer ladies with experience . You shot him a cold glare.

“Alright. What’d I do?” he asked, turning in his seat to better angle himself towards you.

The question caught you off guard.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You haven’t said a word since we left for that hunt, Y/N.”

“How do you know Sam didn’t do something?”

He replied with a knowing look.

You stared at your hands, clasped together in your lap, and muttered, “It’s nothing. Stupid.”

“C’mon, talk to me,” he urged.

You hated this. How easy he was to talk to. How you had always been able to tell him what was on your mind.

But not this . You couldn’t tell him this.

You shook your head.

“Hey,” he said softly, shifting in his seat. He was fully turned around now, reaching out to tilt your chin up, forcing you to look at those green eyes. “Talk to me,” he repeated, no room for argument in his words.

“I can’t,” you whispered. You wanted to throw up. He was your best friend, and you were utterly, irrevocably, head-over-heels in love with him. He preferred girls with experience, and you had none. Not in the way that it mattered. And he had known that, thanks to a late-night stake-out game of Never Have I Ever .

His jaw clenched. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

You briefly met his gaze. You couldn’t hold it for long.

“Was it something I said?” he prodded.

You stared at the buttons of his open flannel, your eyes quickly darting up to meet his in silent confirmation.

He sighed, pulling his hand away from your face and folding his arms on top of the backseat, resting his chin on his forearm.

“Do I at least get a hint?”

“Dean, I —”

“C’mon, Y/N. You’ve never not told me anything.”

“Why are you pushing this?”

“Because I can’t stand not talking to you.”

Your heart leaped at that confession, however innocent it might have been.

“I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?”

“Because I’m making you. You would have silent treatmented me into next week.”

You didn’t respond.

He sighed again, defeated. “Y/N, c’mon. Please? Whatever I said, I’m sorry. I’m sure I didn’t mean it.”

“You didn’t mean that you ‘prefer girls with experience’?” you retorted quite sassily. The question tumbled out before you even had time to think of the implication that came with asking it.

Dean opened and closed his mouth like a damn fish.

“Thought so.” You began to move to make your way out of the car, when Dean reached out and grabbed your wrist.

“No,” he finally said. “I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s okay if you do. I told you, it was a dumb thing to be upset about.”

“No, it’s not. I didn’t stop to think about how this case might have been affecting you. You know I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you, right?”

You swallowed, nodded. His hand felt like fire around your wrist.

“But for what it’s worth, I wasn’t serious. I don’t prefer anyone one way or the other. Sex is sex. If anyone’s willing to have it with me, I consider myself lucky.”

“Romantic,” you quipped.

A smile tugged at his lips. “I could show you, y’know.”

You almost threw up right there in the backseat. Your eyes grew wide.

“What?” you croaked.

“Well, if you’re worried about not having any experience… I just mean I’d be happy to, y’know. Show you the ropes.”

“… Of sex?” Really, you thought it was cute that he had this misconception of you. You knew about the ropes. You’d just never been tied up with them.

“Of whatever you want.”

“You think I want to have sex with you?” It came out harsher than you meant it to, like part of you still thought you could hide the fact that you were in love with him. Like if you just joked it off it would go away, and you wouldn’t have to cross this line with him, even though you so badly wanted to. But you had to protect yourself, your heart.

You didn’t miss the flash of hurt in his eyes.

“No, that’s not what I —”

You suddenly felt the need to clarify your question.

“No, I — I didn’t mean it like that either.”

Dean’s face morphed into one of confusion. “…So you do want to have sex with me?”

Your cheeks flushed red, and your throat bobbed. “Uh…”

“Forget it, stupid question, you don’t have to an—”

“Yeah,” you answered, your voice barely above a whisper. Fuck it. Who were you to hold yourself back from the one thing you’ve been wanting for years? You cleared your throat. “Yeah, I really, really do.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Seriously?”

“Oh, cut the shit, Dean. Like you’re surprised. Everyone wants to have sex with you.”

He scoffed. “ Everyone , Y/N, really?”

“There are literally smutty fanfictions written about you,” you replied, reaching into your back pocket for your phone, dead set on proving your point.

“Gross. And Becky doesn’t count as everyone.”

“Actually, Becky only writes for Sam.”

You realized what you said at the same time he did, and he eyed you suspiciously.

“Why do you know that?”

God dammit. “I don’t. I mean — I — like, she obviously loves Sam. So, like, she wouldn’t write porn about you. Obviously.”

“Uh huh…” There was an uncomfortable silence for a beat or three. And then, “How much smut have you read about me?”

Your face felt like it had just been rinsed with fucking lava, and you knew it probably looked as red as it, too.

“None!” you exclaimed, way too quickly.

Dean smirked. “You do really wanna have sex with me,” he remarked, like he couldn’t believe it.

“Trust me, the urge is fading by the second.”

His grin disappeared almost instantly. “Would it help if I told you that I think about fucking you all the time, too?”

“Well, I don’t think about it all the —”

“Y/N.” He said your name like a warning, and the tone of his voice settled right in your core.

“Yeah,” you squeaked. “Yeah, that helps.”

“Good,” he smirked, before grabbing his phone from beside him.

“Uh… What are you doing?” You watched as he scrolled for a second, pressing a button before putting the phone to his ear.

“Telling Sammy to beat it.”

Your eyes grew wide. “What!?” you whisper-yelled. “No! Just — we can just do it back here!”

He gave you a pointed look. “I’m not taking your virginity in the backseat of my car, Y/N.”

“Why not!?”

“Because we’re not sixteen, for one. And for two… I wanna make it special.” He rushed the last bit out, like he was embarrassed to say it. And he should be. You cringed as you heard it.

“Oh my God,” you began.

“Shut up.”

“You did not just say that.”

“Shut up. Sam, answer your phone, God dammit!”

“I have done, like, almost everything else, you know. In the backseats of many, many cars. You don’t need to make it special for me, Deano,” you teased.

“For the last time, shut your mouth, or I’m gonna shut it for you,” he said, the look he gave letting you know he wasn’t in the mood to play. No, he wanted to fuck you. Beyond that, he wanted to dominate you. And you were more than happy to submit.

You might have been a virgin physically, but mentally? Mentally, you’d probably give Dean a run for his money.

Sam didn’t answer. Naturally. He was probably in the shower, but you were kind of grateful because as much as you wanted Dean, you didn’t want to make Sam uncomfortable. Or worse, give him any reason to give you the talk . Because he totally would. After trying his brother two more times, Dean decided it would be better to just get a room of your own, and you were much happier with that decision.

You watched as he unlocked the door, pushing it open and stepping aside, gesturing for you to go ahead.

“Ladies first.”

“You mean you’re not gonna carry me over the threshold?” you joked. “Thought you wanted to make this special .”

He gave you an unamused look, and you shot back a sarcastic closed-mouth smile before you were being swept off of your feet and over his shoulder faster than you could process.

“Dean!” you squealed, as he carried you through the doorway, kicking the door shut behind him before practically throwing you onto the bed.

He was hovering over you seconds later, his face a few inches from yours, and the mood shifted from playful to serious.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.

You nodded, your fingers coming up to play with the collar of his flannel.

“If I tell you something, you promise you won’t make fun of me?” you questioned, your eyes glued to the plaid pattern on his shirt.

“Promise.”

“I was kinda… holding out for you.” You drew your eyes up to meet his.

“Seriously?” he asked, half laughing. You could tell it wasn’t because he thought it was funny. It was because he couldn’t believe it.

You swallowed nervously, nodding again as you stared into those green eyes, and you hoped that this meant as much to him as it did to you. Something told you it did.

“I wasn’t kidding, you know,” he said.

You tilted your head in question.

“About making it special for you. I know it’s like, the grossest thing I could have possibly said but, you deserve so much better than me, and so if —”

“There’s no one better for me, you idiot.” And you almost told him everything. That you’ve been in love with him ever since you met one summer at Bobby’s, back when you were just kids. That everything felt like it led up to this moment. That you wanted him to fuck you and make love to you all at once. That you didn’t want this to be the only time he did. But instead, you grabbed his face in your hands and pulled him towards you, your lips meeting in a kiss that felt like it could have powered an entire country’s electric grid.

He deepened it, and the two of you were nothing but tongues and teeth and lips — it wasn’t sexy. It was hungry. Starved, more like. Like he had been thinking about kissing you just as long as you had been thinking about him.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling his hips down towards your denim-covered core, down until you felt the hardness underneath his jeans pressed up against the spot where you needed him most, down until you couldn’t help but grind against it. He moaned as he kissed you, so you did it again. And again. And again. And —

“You need to stop that.” It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a command. You noticed that your arms were above your head, his hands pinning your wrists against the mattress. You don’t know when that happened, but you weren’t complaining. In fact, it spurred you on.

You smiled mischievously and rutted against him once more.

“What’re you gonna do about it, Winchester?”

He dropped his forehead to yours, steadying his breaths.

“I can fuck you like it’s your first time, or I can fuck you how I actually want to.”

“And how’s that?”

He took a shaky breath, like he was actually having a hard time controlling himself. You felt a sense of pride shoot through you at that.

“Like the fucking brat you are.”

You almost came from that alone.

Wanna know some common misconceptions about virgins? That they don’t have kinks. That they don’t watch porn. That they don’t have a plethora of sex toys in their nightstand. That they sit and crochet in their convent dorm room all day. Sure, you were years past the age when girls typically lose their virginity, but you were no saint. In fact, you enjoyed being quite the opposite. And you enjoyed being put in your place.

“Do your worst.”

It was like something in him snapped. His eyes were lust-blown and hungry and you didn’t miss the way his jaw ticked, and then he was undressing you so fast that you could’ve been part of a quick change act. He muttered something about a light system as he took off your clothes, and you nodded in a way that let him know that you already knew how all of that worked.

When you were down to just a black lace bra and panties, he paused as his fingers hooked under your waistband. He stared at you, his expression serious, and you knew that he was going to give you one more warning. One more opportunity to say, “Actually, I’d like to have a totally normal, non-kinky, first time experience, please.” But that wasn’t what you wanted.

“You sure you know what you’re asking for?”

You rolled your eyes. “I trust you. Put me in my goddamn place, Winchester. You’ve only been wanting to do it for the past two hours.”

“Oh, I’ve been waiting to do it for a lot longer than that, sweetheart.”

“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, huffing a small laugh before pulling off your panties in one swift motion. His hands came to rest on your bare thighs as he locked his eyes with yours. “Any hard limits?”

You shook your head. “I trust you. I mean, like, don’t pee on me or —”

“Not gonna happen. But… most everything else?”

“Dean,” you began, looking at him pointedly, “I trust you. If it helps, I’ve used like, toys on myself before. And I don’t mean just a vibrator, I mean like… well, you get the gist.”

“So I don’t have to go easy on you, is what you’re saying?”

“Put me in my place,” you repeated.

“Alright,” he replied, his hands gripping the underside of your thighs as he roughly pushed them apart, “but just so we’re clear, that’s the last order you’ll be giving tonight.”

Your throat bobbed and you nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

You meant it as a joke, but it didn’t come out that way. No, the title came out in a way that made his jaw clench and his eyes darken and it stoked the fire raging in your core.

Dean didn’t waste any more time talking after that, his tongue moving through your folds seconds later, drawing gasps and soft moans from your lips. You arched into him, your hands in his hair, silently begging for more. It wasn’t the first time a man had gone down on you, but it was the first time it felt like this .

He pinned your hips down to the bed with one hand splayed over your abdomen and then his tongue was inside you and “eating you out” didn’t come close to describing his ministrations. He was devouring you like his life depended on it, like the sounds you were making were a goddamn Zeppelin song that he wasn’t anywhere near done listening to. And then he added a finger, and then another, and it didn’t matter how many times you had imagined him doing this while you had your own fingers inside you — nothing would have prepared you for how good the real thing felt.

“Oh — fuck,” you gasped, and he chuckled into your sex and you had to actively think about not coming on his face and ending this whole experience early.

“You’re close,” he observed, flicking his tongue over your clit as he continued to pump his fingers in and out, and it was so fucking hot how he just knew that. It was like he had been fucking you for years, the way he knew your body, your tells.

You nodded. “Mmhm,” you confirmed, unable to form words with the way the coil in your abdomen was tightening.

“Hold it,” he ordered.

Your eyes shot open, because it wasn’t the command you were expecting, and you tried to lift your head to shoot him a cold glare but you couldn’t. And he just kept pumping, flicking, licking, chuckling — fucking asshole.

“Mm — fuck — please!” you cried out.

“When you come tonight, it’s gonna be on my cock. So hold it.”

You didn’t think you could. You had played this game with yourself and your vibrator and your self-control was majorly lacking and God his mouth and fingers felt so fucking good and you were there, the coil wound so goddamn tight, it would take nothing for you to let it snap, and then —

He stopped.

He pulled his mouth away from your core, his fingers out of your pussy, and you were writhing underneath him, because you had been right there and you needed him to be touching you again right the fuck now.

You whined.

He spanked your pussy. Not hard or anything, just enough to see if it was okay with you, and fuck, was it.

“Stop whining,” he demanded. He positioned himself so he was hovering over you again, his face inches away from yours as he stared into your eyes. “Or I’ll give you something to whine about.”

You were curious as to what that something would be, but sensed that right now wouldn’t be the best time for that question. You nodded instead.

“Good girl.” He smiled when he said it, like he knew exactly what those two words would do to you.

You squirmed underneath him, it had been too long since he’d last touched you. Too long being thirty seconds at most, but still. It had felt like hours.

“Has anyone ever told you,” he began, dipping his head to place a soft kiss on your collarbone, “that you are very,” another kiss to the other side, “very,” one more to the middle of your chest, “impatient?” He slowly pulled down the left cup of your bra, your breast spilling out of it. “Makes me wanna take my time.”

His eyes stayed glued to yours as his head moved down to your hardened nipple, taking it into his mouth at a goddamn snail’s pace. You arched your back, and he let you this time, chuckling at how easy it was to make your body react. His other hand slipped underneath you, unclasping your bra in a way that reminded you that he had a lot of experience doing so, and you refused to water the seed of jealousy that had sprouted from the thought. It didn’t matter that he had done this a million times. All that mattered was that he was doing it now, with you.

He pulled your bra off and threw it haphazardly over his shoulder, and you were suddenly very aware of the fact that you were completely naked, and he still had 87 fucking layers on, the outermost of which was still speckled with dragon blood, and it’s not that you were anywhere near clean, but you certainly didn’t want those clothes touching your bare skin.

“Dean?” you rasped, and he pulled away from your nipple to give you his full attention.

“You okay, sweetheart? Do you want to st—”

“No! God, no. It’s just —” you sighed, exasperated. This was dumb. You were going to stop him for this? Your eyes landed on a spot of blood on the shoulder of his flannel. Yes, yes you were, because that’s gross. “It’s just that your clothes are covered in monster blood and I’m like, totally naked, and I don’t want —”

He chuckled like you were the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. “I gotchya, baby.”

Baby. Baby ? You tried not to overthink the pet name as he climbed off the bed to take his clothes off, watching you the entire time. Sweetheart, you’d been called a million times. He called everyone sweetheart. But baby? Baby was his car, and no one else. Unless, that’s what you were to him now. His, and no one else’s. You filed the thought away under “Things to Think About After You Lost Your Virginity to Dean Winchester”.

He was in nothing but his boxers now, his cock already hard underneath them, and you bit your lip as he hooked his thumbs under the waistband and slid them off. And then, there he was, exactly like you’d imagined him but also better, because this was real and happening. You gaped at him, at his size. He wasn’t any bigger than the fake one you had in your nightstand, but that one was nine inches and you could never fit it all the way in. He was perfect. All of him.

“You okay?” he asked again, crawling back onto the bed.

“Mhm,” you managed, gulping.

He was on top of you again, his forearm holding up his weight as his free hand came to grab your thigh, hooking it over his hip and leaning down to kiss you. You could feel him against your core, his cock moving between your folds as he moved his hips, teasing you with it.

“Dean,” you breathed.

“Hm?”

“I want…” you couldn’t find it in yourself to finish your request.

“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered.

You decided you liked “baby” better.

“Please.”

“I thought you wanted me to put you in your place?”

You shook your head. “N-next time. Just, please .”

His eyebrows shot up, and you realized what you had said.

“Next time, huh?” he asked, with that shit-eating grin of his.

You rolled your eyes. He stopped moving, the smile wiped off his lips as he gripped you underneath your chin, somewhere between rough and gentle, the look on his face telling you he wasn’t messing around.

“Roll your eyes at me again, and next time I’ll really do my worst.”

You bit back a smile, and you just knew he was thinking, Brat. But you asked your question anyway.

“But not this time?” There was a devilish gleam in your eyes. You were tempting him, and he knew it.

“Do you ever get tired of being such a brat?”

“Dunno,” you shrugged. “Do you ever get tired of it?”

His jaw tensed, and he forced a sardonic, closed-lip smile. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Hm. But not this time, right?”

“Y/N —” he warned.

“Afraid you’re gonna hurt me? Scare me? What’s really keeping you from putting me in my place… Sir?”

For the second time that night, something in him snapped. You yelped as he flipped you over and grabbed your hips, dragging them upwards so your ass was in the air and your chest was on the mattress. Four hits to your cheeks came down in quick succession, and when you reached your hand behind you to block them, it was quickly pinned to the small of your back. Three more hits followed, accompanied by a pathetic, “Ow!” from your lips.

“Color?” he questioned roughly.

“So fucking green,” you replied, dazed.

Seven more hits followed, each one harder than the last, and you didn’t think there was anything better than the sting you were feeling right now. There was nothing more you wanted than for him to mark you up like this.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he commented. Five more hits.

“Oh, fuck!” you cried out at the last hit, one that felt like it reverberated through your entire body. One that definitely left a handprint behind.

“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you?” It was a rhetorical question. He spanked you four more times. “You just wanted me to mark you up, is that it? Think of me every time you sit down for the next few days, hm?” Three more.

“Mmph!” Your cries were muffled by the comforter.

“Yeah, I can tell. Look at this fucking mess.” He dragged his fingers through your soaked folds. “Jesus Christ,” he said under his breath, and then he was flipping you back over. He nestled himself between your legs, his tip teasing your entrance. His expression softened as he stared into your eyes. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Yeah,” you replied breathily.

He slid into you slow and easy, your mouth open in a silent moan as he bottomed out.

“Good?” he asked.

“So fucking good.”

When he started to move, you thought you were going to die. In a good way. In a way that made you decide right there and then that when the time did come, this was how you wanted to go out.

“Harder,” you encouraged, and he obliged. “Faster.”

He was properly fucking you now. Hard and fast and dirty. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, your heels digging into his ass, forcing him to go deeper. His head was buried in your neck, your nails were clawing up his back, and the room was filled with moans and pants and expletives that put a sailor’s mouth to shame.

“Shit, baby,” he panted into your neck. “God damn, you feel good. So fucking tight.” He sped up his thrusts, and the bed was squeaking so much that you thought it was going to fall apart underneath you, but you were too far gone to care. He reached a hand down in between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, circling it expertly. You were on the precipice of your release in seconds. And then —

“Come. Soak that fucking cock, baby. Come for me.”

And you screamed loud enough to get both you and him kicked out of the motel if they cared enough as your orgasm ripped through you. He fucked you through it, his pace only faltering moments later, right before he pulled out and painted your stomach white. It looked like a Jackson Pollock on your abdomen. Kinda hot, actually.

“You okay?” Dean asked, looking down at you as he finally caught his breath.

“More than,” you smiled.

He mirrored the look on your face before crawling off the bed and heading to the bathroom. He came back moments later with a damp washcloth, gently cleaning his masterpiece off of your skin. When he was done, he threw it across the room, aiming for the bathroom, and it landed on the tile in front of the toilet. He laid down next to you, pulling you into his chest as he pressed a soft kiss into your hair, and you wanted to ask so many questions, all at once. What were you two now? How long had he been wanting this? Would there be a next time? Instead, you opted for —

“You know in fanfictions, they write you as a submissive most of the time.”

He snorted. “They’re half right.”

“A switch?” you asked, surprised. “Lucky me.”

He chuckled softly. “Sorry about your ass.”

You shrugged. “I was asking for it.”

“Oh, you were definitely asking for it. Still, I… I dunno. It was your first time, I didn’t want to get too —”

“It was perfect, Dean.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, smiling, dozing off already. “Yeah.”

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester smut

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zaephix · 19 days

Text

macaron of my eye / / zayne . . .

being the birthday boy came with its perks, like gifts and cake, blessings, and even being able to get away with stealing a few birthday sweets and kisses.

warnings: f!reader, canon divergence (story is diff from the bday story), jealous!zayne, fluff, suggestive

w/c: 1.2k

author's note: happy birthday to the one fictional man who set my standards higher than heaven <3

"nuh-uh, nope!"

zayne didn't even get the chance to land the slightest touch on one of the many macarons you ended up baking before you promptly slapped his hand away.

"i know it's nearly your birthday but this doesn't mean you can just have your way when you see fit, doctor."

he slowly retracts his wandering hand and you resist the urge to giggle at the sight of his dejected face. these past few days you'd been busy planning for zayne's special day. decorations, sweets, gifts, cake, more sweets... it took some work but you had just about everything checked out and ready to go.

...except for the surprisingly clingy man before you.

he doesn't know why, but he's been feeling irked ever since you visited the hospital a few days ago. it was common to see you heading over to zayne's office after your shift was over, but he'd never actually see you stop and talk to his coworkers. it bothered him, clearly.

you and greyson would talk in hushed whispers oftentimes these days, sneaking glances over in his direction everytime he'd pass by. he brushed it off but it would never leave the back of his mind.

not to mention the fact that you'd barely respond to his calls and texts. he'd taken the next few days leading up to his birthday off, and you seemed excited, so why the change of energy?

he found his answer 20 minutes ago.

"you know, i'd maybe let you eat some if you didn't just come into my apartment unannounced and..." you glance over him, "so gloomy..."

zayne sighs, leaning on the countertop of your kitchen while watching you work ever so diligently.

he supposed you had a point.

after his 4th missed call or so he decided to see you himself, knocking on your door before picking up the key under your plant vase in front of your door and seeing himself in... and as you can tell, without your permission.

"i'm... sorry," he starts slowly. "but don't you think you're at fault for ignoring me?"

you turn back around after putting in the final batch of macarons, smiling. "awh. poor little doctor zayne. so helpless and in need of attention."

he turns his head to the side a little and shakes his head lightly, smiling all the while. "yes..."

"poor little me," a sudden mischiecious glint appears in his eyes, "without my hunter to keep me company. she keeps sneaking off and planning surprises behind my back."

"and yet... someone ruined it!"

"i suppose were both feeling quite woeful today."

"hmph," you turn around with your hands crossed. "don't even ask for a bite. i know you'll be begging sooner or later!"

he stands up and comes closer to your turned form, "not even a nibble?"

"not even!"

"then... i'll just have to improvise, no?"

"what are you talking abou-?"

unbeknownest to you, zayne's favorite sweet was not just macarons.

no, they were something else entirely.

he hums as he rests his arms atop your waist, leaning down exceptionally slowly. your neck heats up, even moreso than when you were stuck baking in the kitchen for hours on end.

his breath fans against your ear, soft chuckles echoing from his chest onto the plain of your back. "this."

he moves the hair cascading down your back to your side, holding it in place as he softly latches his lips onto your exposed skin. your own breath hitches in your chest as you gasp at the contact.

his lips felt cold, but not in a bad way. cold, like the first breeze of autumn after the end of summer. he moves his way up the side of your neck with painfully slow strides. he inhales deeply, taking in the sweet scent of the various flavours of cake attached to you.

and as you exhale steadily, you wonder what encouraged him to reveal this side of himself.

"zayne..."

soft carresses of his lips lingered on your skin—and you found yourself hoping your own lips to be their next victim. never once did his grip on you falter or grow stronger, yet they kept you firmly in place, anticipating his every move.

soon enough he'd completed his trail across your jaw, and you turn your neck to face him. he opens his eyes to find yours and detaches himself, dark and hazy. god, you felt pathetic...

"did you get my answer yet?"

you don't reply, looking from his eyes to his lips again once more, and leaned in.

ding!

you jolted away from him and cursed yourself for putting the macarons in the oven on high so that they'd get done faster. with how everything was going along just about now, you wouldn't even give a damn if they burned or not if you could just continue for a moment more.

"ah... they're ready."

you grab your mittens and open the oven door, letting it cool down while all the steam came out and then finally grabbing it. you set them down on your counter with a proud smile.

"look, this might just be my best batch yet!"

"you really are something..."

zayne gives you a wistful smile and looks over your shoulder, nodding in approval. "you truly outdid yourself this time. they look amazing."

"and?"

"...they also smell nice."

you roll your eyes, "no silly, what's my reward?"

he pretends to think, "hm, i don't know. what should your reward be?"

a noise goes off, your alarm set for 12 am to give zayne a birthday call ringing from your phone. you glance at it and then look back at him,

"...i might just have an idea."

and he reads your mind, dipping in to kiss you without a second thought. afterall, what better way to start his birthday than a kiss?

you sway in his arms, a hand rested atop his cheek and the other on the side of his neck. he smiles into the kiss and pulls you closer, gently moving your bodies in synchronization.

you were sure you could hear his phone vibrating, no doubt on the fact that it was probably one of his colleuges calling to wish him a happy birthday. but you both knew that could wait.

he kisses you slowly and passionately, arms enveloping around you with ease. you're almost left out of breath before you pull away for a split second, until he pulls you back in again. it feels almost desperate, with how he's leaving little to no room for movement and just focusing on your presence. on your lips.

soon enough, you pull away, opting to lean your forehead against his.

"so, birthday boy, did you like your first gift?"

"i thought this was supposed to be someone's reward?"

you giggled, "i changed my mind. this was more important."

he smiles for what felt like the umpteenth time today, sighing peacefully. "does this mean i finally get to try your delicious sweets?"

"what do you mean finally? i tasted the cream inside your mouth! you stole one while i was putting the rest in the oven!"

"hm?"

"don't play dumb, i know exactly how it-!"

and he silences your fusses with one last kiss, and you couldn't help but give in to it.

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mystellenia · 6 months

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ellie's reaction to big boobs ୨ৎ

summary: you come over to ellie's late at night, your intentions clear as day in your eyes.

content: answer to this req!! established relationship but yall havent done the freaky yet. a little bit of sub!ellie kinda, also kinda needy!ellie, fingering, nipple sucking, groping, basically it

notes: here's the small boob version!! i have never dragged on a fic like i did for this. pissing me off fr. bedtime now yayy honkkkk mimimimimimi

(wc 1.5k)

okay so having big boobs isn't exactly something that goes unnoticed, and trust me, ellie NOTICED. she is such a tits girl. you always noticed how her gaze lingered in, honestly, any top you wore. fitted, loose, tight, baggy, low cut—she dont give af 😇 always thinks she's so sly with it, too, just to be caught every single time. she's so silly.

obviously, she didn't wanna rush your first time together, but boy did she want to. whenever you guys cuddled, she so badly wanted to palm one, just to hold it or work it under her fingers. and don't get me started on when you guys were chest to chest??? it's all she would think about: her tits being so close to yours, your nipples just two layers away from kissing hers.

so when you both were on the phone getting ready for bed and you asked her if you could come over, she said yes with HASTEEEEE. it was 11 pm—why else would you come over? i mean, she didn't wanna get her hopes up, but she did take a quick shower while you were on the way over.

and then she heard three knocks from the front door.

you stood at the top step to ellie's apartment, the slight chill prickling your arms, but it didn't affect you much because of the heat that ran through your body.

your arm fell back to your side after knocking, checking your phone for the time. 11:11 pm, it read. you laughed to yourself about the lucky time, with it being 11:11. maybe you would get lucky.

ellie approached the front door, not bothering to look through the peephole—she was expecting you, anyway. what she was not expecting was to open the door and see you standing in what you were in: black sweatpants and a grey spaghetti strap tank top, looking molded to your body. she felt lightheaded at the outline of your breasts in the tank top, so tight to your skin she swore she could see the print of each hair on your body through it.

she then looked up to find you staring at her with low lids, the faintest of smiles playing your lips.

"you gonna let me in, or just keep staring at me?" you teased, pushing past her when she couldn't respond out of surprise.

ellie came back to her senses and shut the door, locking it behind her back to finally address you. "hi, baby," she says, walking over to you on the couch to kiss your head.

in place of a response, you hum, lacing your fingers with hers.

ellie soon grows suspicious of your quietude, smiling and squinting her eyes at you.

"baby, are you okay?" she prods, her eyebrows drawn together in playful skepticism. "you're so quiet right now."

you ignore her and lean into her chest, wrapping your arms around her neck and brushing your lips over hers. her smile drops quickly, her lips parting and eyes moving down to your lips.

"do you still want me to talk now?" you murmur against her mouth, her eyes now almost fully closed.

it's ellie who leans forward and connects your lips, immediately moaning into your mouth. you swing your leg over hers, moving on top to straddle her. her hands swiftly find your lower back and push your tank top up a little, sprawling her hands against the freed skin. your skin prickles with goosebumps as she brushes it, her cold hands making you shiver and arch into her to escape them.

ellie abruptly pulls back and rests her forehead against your cheekbone, looking down at your boobs squished up against hers and the cleavage coming from the action.

you notice where her eyes rest and nudge her head with your nose, grabbing her attention. "el," you breathe, "you know you can touch them."

she glances up at you. "what?" she pants.

you place your hand over hers and guide it to your chest, palming your hand over hers on your left boob. "like this," you guide.

her eyes watch your skin under her hand, slightly unfocused and glazed over. you make her hand squeeze your boob, leaning into her neck to place wet, open-mouthed kisses near her ear, hearing her contently sigh.

you lean back, causing ellie to promptly pull her hand into her lap. your hands move to roll your tank top up to your sternum and reveal your braless chest, your tits bouncing slightly at the freedom. she almost starts salivating, her throat bobbing as she thickly swallows and then exhales heavily through her mouth.

she lifts her hand to palm your right breast and pulls back, simply watching your flesh move under her fingers with a slack jaw and eyes nearly closed. your head lulls to the side, and you close your eyes and bite your lip to try and stay quiet.

she suddenly gains confidence, licking her lips and moving her free hand out of her lap. she traces the waistband of your sweatpants, asking you a quiet "can i?" in permission. she does not, however, give you any time to prepare—she only grants the time it takes for her to quickly swipe her fingers through you to get them wet before smoothly plunging them into you, taking you by surprise and making you scoot back a little to escape the initial intrusion. she looks up at you, smiling evilly at your little gasps and whines.

your reactions make her cocky, and while she starts to thrust her fingers in you, she asks, "how does that feel?" keeping her eyes on you. while she normally would be nervous about her inexperience, she doesn't care much for your response in this moment—she knows she's making you feel good, so instead she gives a smug smile when you rapidly nod your head.

she abruptly pulls her fingers out and sits back on her haunches, her sticky fingers resting on her thigh. "take your underwear off. i wanna see."

you obey, lifting your hips to push your underwear down your thighs. she just watches, her eyes locking onto the string of arousal connecting your puffy core to your underwear. the second it's fully off, she returns her hand to your cunt and reinserts her fingers, groaning at the feel of you clenching around her.

"ellie..." you moan, your eyes threatening to close. "wait, let me- i wanna make you feel good, too," you breathe, thumbing the drawstring of her sleep shorts between your thumb and index fingers.

her eyes snap up to yours, pupils blown with lust as she nods. "yeah- yes."

her movements slow down as she watches you untie the bow of her shorts, slipping them off her legs all while her fingers remain inside you. pushing her boy shorts over her butt and off her legs, you examine her pussy, soaked and glistening for you.

despite your own weakness from her fingers working in between your legs, you trace small circles on her clit and push one finger in her, watching as her mouth opens more as you speed up.

ellie's free hand loops around your back, pushing you close to her as her lips unexpectedly wrap around your peaked nipple, making you arch deeper into her mouth. you moan at the sensation, and ellie clamps around your finger, the only noises heard in the bedroom being lewd.

you both grow closer to your climaxes, her continuing to lick and suck at your nipples as you begin jackhammering into her core. while her thighs tighten around your wrist, your hips buck and grind into her fingers, both of you greedily following the pleasure.

ellie's movements get sloppy, her lips starting to drift from your nipple to your sternum. she cums around your fingers with a breathy cry of your name, the sound and sight alone enough to make you cum with her.

ellie sloppily lunges towards you and locks your lips in a messy kiss. you thrash against each other, a symphony of pleas and moans ending in the other's mouth.

taking a moment to regain your senses, you both lay motionless with your chests heaving, fingers still swallowed up.

you pull your fingers out, ellie soon following suit and wincing at the loss. you pull your tank top back down, and ellie climbs up next to you and lays on her side, looking at your profile.

"jesus christ," she pants, throwing her arm over her eyes and laughing wearily. you laugh with her, rolling onto your side to face her.

"i'm so tired. can we just sleep?" you ask.

"god, yes."

ellie pulls you into her chest, pulling the blanket up and over your bodies, your naked legs tangling under the sheets.

just when you thought ellie had fallen asleep, you feel her chest vibrate with words.

"i wanted to taste you so bad that whole time," she murmurs, sighing dramatically. "wasted opportunity."

"just do it tomorrow," you reply.

"oh, hell yeah."

@picklesarenice69

I’M FREE I FINISHED THIS HOORAYYYY

her slutty little behind an that slutty little shirt and those slutty little ears (hiiii) and her slutty little wrists she needs to be arrested

fun fact the little frog stuffy divider yeah i have the frog her name is Margaret and she has a pink scarf 🧣

---

click here!! oh and here too!! ˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶

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strwberri-milk · 19 days

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Hi☺️ I really like your headcanons, and was interested if you would like to write a one where LADS boys hurt the reader with their Evol (not on purpose, accidentally).

Maybe it could be angst a bit? If you okay with it ( ･_･)♡

ngl i lowkey still dont understand how xavs evol works so his is ia little funny rather than angst bc he teleported funny :(

Zayne didn't realise that his Evol had been acting up so badly. He could feel the chill of it crawling up his body but he had no idea he struck you until he hears your gasp from the door of his office. His eyes are wide as he ignores the ice in his veins.

You try to tell him not to worry, that he needs to focus on himself because clearly his Evol is acting up again but he can't be bothered right now. He's immediately looking over the injury, making sure that it's just superficial. If he actually hurt you he'd never forgive himself. You have to convince him that everything is okay, take his hands into your face and slow him down just a bit until he can see you again.

He buries his face into your neck, holding you tightly as he promises he'll never do it again. You have to tell him over and over again that you know it was an accident. It doesn't matter though - he'll never forgive himself. He's always extra careful with his Evol around you from now on, terrified he'll hurt you again.

He wasn't paying attention when he teleported in, almost knocking you over because you didn't expect to see him there. You laugh, the pain being pretty minimal so it was fine but he is not happy about it to say the least. He's not mad at you at all - he's very upset with himself for not being more careful with you.

He keeps his eye on you for the next little while, worried that he actually did hurt you but you're just worried of hurting his feelings so you won't actually tell him what's wrong. He tries to subtly check your body, making sure there really aren't any bruises on you.

Now whenever he teleports somewhere you are he makes it a point to text or call you ahead of time to make sure you aren't where he plans to be. If you don't answer then he'll just teleport somewhere he knows you aren't to make sure he doesn't hurt you.

Rafayel didn't see you come in when he started using his Evol for a painting. He just wanted to give it a bit of a burned affect, flames encompassing his studio just long enough for you to sustain a burn. It's not bad thankfully, nothing you couldn't handle but Rafayel is devasted you're hurt in the first place.

He's on you in an instant, used to getting burns himself from when he's overzealous with his fire Evol. He's got tons of salves and gauze for you as he carefully takes care of your burn. He wants to take you to see a doctor but you convince him not to - the burn is already feeling a lot better but he doesn't seem convinced.

He beats himself up for what feels like forever, fully blaming himself for your injury. He knows that if he was more careful with his flames he wouldn't have hurt you and there's no talking him out of it. You can only try to comfort him, spending time with him and trying your best to reassure him.

Sylus didn't think that you were going to barge into his meeting, having something important to tell him as he pulled his hand back. He ends up accidentally grabbing you, squeezing a touch too tight before you're let go. An angry looking welt is left on your skin and Sylus is immediately by you, inspecting it as he apologises.

You can't hear the panic in his voice but you can see it in his eyes, the way his hands quickly move over your body as he tries to figure out if he broke anything. Thankfully he didn't and you're just sore. The second you tell him that he finds you an ointment and starts massaging the muscle. He doesn't say much other than the apologies at the start but it's because he's fully focused on making sure you're okay. It would be adorable if you weren't worried about how concerned he is.

He doesn't say much for a while, mad at himself for not noticing you coming into the room. You have to fill the silence, trying your best to soothe him. It'll really take a long time for him to stop treating you like glass.

#love and deepspace x reader #l&ds x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #sylus x reader #l&ds zayne x reader #l&ds xavier #l&ds rafayel x reader #l&ds sylus x reader #lads zayne x reader #lads xavier x reader #lads rafayel x reader #lads sylus x reader #lnds zayne x reader #lnds xavier x reader #lnds rafayel x reader #lnds sylus x reader

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twistedwonderlandimaginesblog · 2 months

Note

OKAY I HAVE ONE MORE!! I just read the post you did where s/o got injured after getting in a fight, and I'd love to know how Jamil, Trey, Ruggie, Jade, and Deuce would react if their s/o tried to hide the fact they got hurt? Either because they didn't want to be a bother or because they knew the guys were busy and didn't want to add to their plate. Even going as far as avoiding them for a day or two while trying to (badly) nurse their wounds.

Deuce Spade:

Deuce can’t be entirely mad at you since that would be the same thing he would do. He wouldn’t want you to worry about him either, but now he sees how that can actually hurt more. You had never given him a reason to be dishonest before and he hoped you saw from his calm reaction that you didn’t have to fear confiding in him, either. He was here to be your support if you didn’t want his protection, he just needed you to at least let him in on what was happening. He’d stop anything to take care of you and he makes that clear, wearing an intense expression as he made you promise to tell him if you were hurt like this again.

Jade Leech:

Jade could always smell blood in the water. While he allowed you to foolishly believe you were hiding your wounds from him, he was aware from the beginning that you were injured. If you were trying to hide it from him than he wasn’t going to point it out until he saw how far you were willing to go to keep your secret. It’s almost amusing that you’d rather be in pain rather than tell him you’re hurt but once your pain is too great to hide, he smoothly let you know he had a few nursing skills as he and Floyd used to play rough as children. He doesn’t ask how you got the wounds (he already knows) nor does he point out that he knew you hid it from him, simply smiling at you and knowing he had you sweating it out on whether you were going to confess or not.

Jamil Viper:

It feels a little like betrayal to Jamil. While he didn’t want the stress of having to care for your wounds thrust upon him (even if he’d do so anyway), he didn’t like that you apparently didn’t trust him enough to tell him. Had he done something to deserve you purposely keeping secrets from him? Your relationship had been tumultuous at first but he had thought you found a comfortable middle ground, where you were both content even if there was still more to learn about each other. He helped clean you up as he can’t help but call you out when you’re clearly in pain, scowling the entire time as he couldn’t bite back his anger at you hiding away your injuries from him. He was clearly hurt and told you to just tell him next time to save him the anxiety of thinking he did something wrong, as he could at least escort you to the nurse.

Ruggie Bucchi:

Ruggie sighed, wondering how you always managed to attract trouble to you.He doesn’t seem to take your you hiding your injury from him personally, saying he might’ve done the same as some things are just too mortifying to admit to. He grinned as he said he appreciated you not getting him into trouble with you, as he certainly got into more than enough with Leona and the others in Savanaclaw. Still, if you were hurt and needed someone to lean on you should come to him, as a wounded animal separated from the pack would get killed.

Trey Clover:

Trey sighed, knowing it was partially his own fault as he piled his worries onto you without thinking of how you might view that. He dealt with the trouble he was handed because he knew how to, and while it was too much from time to time, you were hardly the cause of most of his troubles. He didn’t want you to hide something like an injury from him just because he seemed busy, even if he couldn’t help directly, he would have been able to get you the suitable treatment and check in on you later. You’re scolded directly and it leaves you worried he might be mad at you forever, since it was so rare to see him annoyed like this. Those thoughts end when you wake up the next morning with fresh baked goods and a note saying to text him when you finally awoke so he could check in on you.

#Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Twisted Wonderland Imagines #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Ruggie Bucchi #Trey Clover #Deuce Spade #Jade Leech #Jamil Viper #Ruggie Bucchi x Reader #Trey Clover x Reader #Deuce Spade x Reader #Jade Leech x Reader #Jamil Viper x Reader

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sweetnans · 3 months

Text

Stuck in the moment || Bakugo, K. (pt.5)

Pairing: fuckboy Bakugo/hopelessly romantic fem. reader

summary: You made a mistake, a huge mistake. You fucked the most cocky, annoying, bastard, fuckboy you knew. Bakugo Katsuki. And that fact was against all your beliefs. Now, after the rumor (truth) spread like a pandemic virus in college you'll have to live with the stormy consequences of your acts and whatever trash was brought with it.

a/c: Hey, it's me again. Here we are in a new series I plan to continue. I really hope you enjoy it. I put my favorite man in action (bakugo) being a selfish bastard that you would love eventually and I couldn't help to put another "trope" I'm a sucker for (guardian/father figure Aizawa) I'm so sorry if that bothers you. Once again, I'm sorry if I misspelled something, English is not my first language. (Not proofread yet)

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 -> Pt.6

m.list

You woke up with a headache. You barely even drink last night, but somehow, the interaction with a certain one got you all pented up that now you were struggling with a giant migraine.

Sundays were always slow. You used them to complete your homework, and then in the afternoon, you had a mandatory dinner with Aizawa and Eri in his apartment. You talked about eachothers lives and then sometimes watched a movie together. It was really nice, especially when the idea came right from Aizawa's mind in a form to create a safe and familiar space to Eri, which you were happy to comply with.

On Monday, your headache was light. It was a pulsating little tingle in your head, completely bearable.

The first class was slow. You caught yourself falling asleep multiple times, but hopefully, no one saw you.

After the party, you made your routine on speaking your head off to Jirou about what happened. You two got into the conclusion that it was a delusional event that helped out Bakugo keep his mind in peace.

It was easier to pretend that that was his intention than twirling your brain into finding out the real purpose of your interaction with him.

The sound of your stomach growling startled you out of your head. You were sitting in the sun enjoying the rays in your face when you checked the clock for the obvious. Lunch break.

You hated making the line to get lunch, so Aizawa packed you a bento with some things he found at home. He was a man in charge of a little girl, but it didn't mean that he was actually good at cooking. He had some dishes where he showed all his talent, but others, you could see little Eri gagging because of the burnt rice and steamed vegetables that looked like a pulp.

You entered the lunch zone full of big white tables and uncomfortable chairs. It's was more crowded than usual, so you had to put yourself on the tip of your toes to find Jirou and Denki.

Scanning the room, above all the heads and trying to difuse the laughs and peoples screaming from one table to another, you didn't find a trace of your friends.

"You look like a deer struck by light." Bakugo's hand was wrapped firmly in your shoulder lowering your body to the ground. "Sit with us"

That was him in real life. A silence sneaky bastard you didn't see coming.

You didn't have a choice, so you followed him through the crowd until you two made it to the table where his friends waved you happily of seeing you with them.

They didn't mind your presence at all. With years of friendship with Bakugo, they have learned no to question his outbursts or his decisions. Having you around was weird in a way that he never ever had been interested in someone, and now they have started to get used to you because he always made the effort to find you and bring you with him. You thought that no one saw him going to the kitchen where you entered a minute before? His friends had eyes on their backs. They, of course, saw this coming.

"I don't know if I'm going to stick around. My friends must be somewhere here..." You said, glancing away, trying to find the yellow spiky hair of your friend. You had to thank him because his extravagant hair was going to be your salvation.

"Let them be, stop third-wheeling them. It's annoying, " he rolled his eyes and took your bento from your hands to settle it on the table.

You were almost embarrassed for his comment, but everyone were minding their own business, leaving you like a stray castaway with Bakugo.

Sighing, you took your seat beside Sero and in front of Bakugo, who was inspecting you carefully. You tried not to sink in your seat and opened your bento. Burnt rice with poorly steamed vegetables. You hated veggies.

The feeling must've shown in your face because Bakugo was fast enough to exchange his food with yours. No questions asked. He didn't have a clue of what pushed him to do that, but just for the sake of it, he needed to look nonchalant to you to keep going the game he had in mind.

"What? No, give that back. " You started to throw your arm to grab your lunch, but he effortlessly dodged it.

"Shut up, that's what friends do." he pinched one of the languid carrots and ate it without even flinching. You tried with all your heart to not gag at the sight of that.

Friends. That's right.

The fact of him addressing what happened the other night caught you by surprise. You convinced yourself that it was with the main purpose of keeping his mind at ease. It seemed like you were wrong. It seemed like he actually meant it.

The table was in silence. Bakugo's bento was unopened in front of you, and he looked at you like you were dumb or something. You glanced at his friend casually chatting about some class, Mina watching tiktoks and moving his hands with the rhythm of some trend while you felt so out of place. You missed sassy Jirou and even the nonsense spurting out of Denki's mouth.

"Are you going to eat or what?" He was losing his patience. Don't you dare make the king mad.

You opened the bento, and the scent of his food invaded your nose. It was spicy ramen, one of your favorite. The smell of the soup prickled your nose and watered your eyes. You couldn't wait to have a spoon of that in your mouth.

Bakugo observed the change in your face and felt something flourishing inside of him. Pride.

The way your cheeks regained color after sipping the soup and how you almost moaned because of the taste made his chest puff.

You looked at him with your mouth full and smiled at him with your lips sealed shining with the oil remaining in the spoon.

His heart took a leap.

"How's that?" he quirked a brow, and you rolled your eyes still smiling.

Cocky bastard, he knew he could cook. He didn't need another one praising one of his multiple abilities.

"It's good," you said, shrugging downplaying the fact that he could actually cook.

The different combination of spices melting in your mouth with the ramen left a tingling feeling in your tongue. It was a funny feeling that complemented Bakugo, crossing his arms on top of his chest and looking at you with sufficiency.

"Are you going to judge my food now? I know it's not good enough for your expectations"

Mentally, you thought that if he said something about it, you would pull the Aizawa card from your sleeve to make him look like an idiot. Who were you fooling? The man in front of you didn't know anything about shame nor sucking superior's dick. If he needed to say something, he would say it without caring about the who.

He was about to open his mouth to give you his constructive opinion about your bad excuse of lunch when the haze of mismatched eyes caught all your attention in the corner of your eyes. Todoroki.

The memory of him apologizing for Bakugo's behavior was a current thought in your brain since that night. It wasn't because of his mysterious aura or the trouble in his family that attracted you to him. It was what you could see behind those eyes, loneliness, and hell you knew about that.

His body language, always stiff and clueless, motivated you to know more about him. He needed a wire to the ground, someone to show him the things that he had lost because of his childhood. You missed a lot of things in life, too, but you were determined to pivot the destiny. You wanted the best for him, too.

"Close your mouth. You are drooling on the table," he mumbled, clearly pissed.

Bakugo snapped out of your trance. You were watching Todoroki walking in the room until he left. You needed to catch him.

"I'm sorry I'll be right back"

You left him. The man who shared, not, gave you his lunch. You left him hanging to sprint to another guy.

Your conscience didn't put any thought of if in your mind until it was too late.

"Todoroki," you grabbed him by his wrist, gaining his attention.

Even though it was out of character for you to chase a man, and before the party, you two haven't talked, there was some sort of connection you couldn't decipher. He smiled at the sight of you.

"Hey, are you okay? Your cheeks are red. " he pointed at your face with a puzzled look.

"Yeah, I was eating something steamy, and then I ran here so..." you said out of breath.

Catching him was a short sprint, but it left your lungs burning for the sudden movement.

"I-" you cleared your throat. "I'm here to apologize for the other night. He was so rude with you, apparently with no reason"

The last thing you need in your life. Apologizing to people on Bakugo's behalf.

"He told you to apologize?" He asked, knitting his brows together. You shook your head. "Then there's nothing to apologize for, at least you don't have to"

"I was really hoping to have a good night and the Cosmopolitan? It was delicious, I didn't get the chance to thank you, it was so sudden"

He scratched his neck and suddenly smirked.

"Yeah, I was hoping on catching up with you too"

If the red in your face was a statement made before, now it was permanent. You never said that, but it was like he read your mind. You were careful with your words, and even though you wanted to tell him that, you didn't have the guts.

"Maybe we should hang out, I mean...eventually?" You were a nervous wreck being so forward with your intentions.

You didn't have any romantic expectations with him, but you couldn't blame the silly romantic girl who believed in love and enjoyed corny movies inside of you for picturing a date with him.

"Yeah, are you free this friday?" He said bluntly without any pinch of shame.

You weren't expecting it to be so soon, but your mind didn't connect with your body before your head was nodding with excitement.

You exchanged your numbers to set the time of your whatever that was going to be.

You would be completely lying if you said you didn't feel nothing about it. It was a weird feeling, like excitement combined with anxiety. You came just to apologize and left with a date under your arm.

Five days were more than enough to find an outfit, a possible place, and, of course, something to do. Drinking? Bowling? Movies? The options were endless.

You were high on your cloud when you remembered where you were before that. You couldn't help but feel like floating back to the table. You wouldn't be capable to hide your smile or the redness in your cheeks. You wanted to giggle like a little girl just by the memory of what happened.

The sudden wave of euphoria disappeared in the moment you got to the table, and only Kirishima was there looking at his phone mindlessly.

The remorse was bigger than the feeling you had just a mere second ago.

"Where did he go?" You asked his friend, and he gave you a sad smile.

"He left a while ago. He murmured something under his breath and left you this," Kirishima said, grabbing his things and leaving Bakugo's bento on the table with yours on top of it. "He said something that you didn't end your meal I don't know"

Kirishima scratched the back of his neck and the waved you goodbye.

You standed there feeling like the worse person of all world while eveyone kept eating their lunch.

You needed to revert the situation.

In your afternoon classes, you didn't see him or his friends. It was weird because they were always around laughing and throwing jokes when Denki joined them.

In your last period, Jirou found you biting your nails at the end of the classroom.

"What's going on in that little head of yours?" she threw his books on top of the desk next to yours and collapsed on her seat. "Where did you go at lunchtime? Aizawa hauled you again?"

You denied with a sad face. You weren't even trying to hide your feelings that were completely mixed. You were enthusiastic because of the date, but for one reason or another, the remorse of leaving Bakugo after what he did, it was like a kick in the guts. You felt completely rachet.

"I was with Bakugo," the little you blurted was enough for Jirou to have her jaw to the floor.

"Did you two...again?" She didn't have to say the word that she was implying.

"God no." You shook your head and played with your pen. "We just sat together with his friends and then Todoroki appeared out of nothing and I ran after him, he asked me on a date and then when I came back to the table Bakugo was nowhere to be seen"

The transitions between Jirou faces were something you would tease her about it if you weren't so confused about your emotions.

"Why are you sad then? Todoroki asked you out! That's a good thing. There's no way Bakugo walking out is worth the downfall of your euphoric state"

You bended over your seat to grab his bento and yours from your backpack, and then you piled them it in front of Jirou

"What's that?" She quirked a brow separating the tupperwares. You sighed. "I can't read minds babe"

"That's mine, and that's his," you pointed them with sorrow.

"Girl, you need to be more specific," she asked, looking serious.

"He switched his lunch with mine because I didn't like mine, and then, after I chase Todoroki, he left me his because I hadn't finished yet" you grunted putting your head between your hands. "Now I have two empty containers with the remains of me being a shitty person"

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself." Jirou placed her hand on your back and rubbed it for a while. "It's just a lunch, don't let the drama overwhelme you"

"It was Aizawa burnt rice and steamed veggies," you took a peak at her between your hands.

"And he finished it???" She grabbed the bento and examined it. "Ick, gross." She gagged. That didn't make any better to your state.

"What am I going to do" you asked.

Something about Bakugo eating your lunch, knowing what it was changed Jirou's mind about him being completely worthless. It took guts to eat that, even Denki, who could eat from a dumpster, threw up after tasting the vegetables.

"I think you need to...I don't know if apologize is the right word? But maybe make it up to him, " she said, patting your head.

She was right, and even though you tried to escape that, it wasn't a lie that you thought of it before Jirou statement. You just needed the reassurance, and maybe, just maybe, a way out that's wasn't going to come soon.

The last period ended. You focused on mainting your attention to everything present mic yelled in his english class. He always left you with a headache, but this time, where your mind was divided by the class and Bakugo, you didn't end up with any head related pain.

After leaving your things in your dorm and going to the bathroom for a quick refresh, you made your way to the boys' building. The boys' building was separated from the girls' building just by a street, which was very convenient. It was like we want you to be safe and make good decisions, but also, you're old enough to have sex and get freaky.

You would think that the concept of having a roommate made it hard to have intercourse but it didn't. Well, if you were lucky enough to have a decent roommate. When Jirou wanted time alone with Denki, you were more than happy to go downtown for a quick shopping spree or to the supermarket just to give them some time. Jirou did the same for you when you solicited privacy.

Denki was kind enough to give you Bakugo's floor and room by text. He kept messaging you for the gossip, but you put your phone in silence just to ignore him. Jirou would give him the details.

The looks on the boys that were there were nothing but oblivious. They didn't mind having your or any girl around. In fact, they looked at you, no, sided eyed you, like you were just one of the numerous girls that dropped by the building.

The building was exactly the same model as yours. The stairs were located on the same spot, and the number of floors was the same as yours. You could practically suit yourself pretty well if there weren't for the smell and the tall guys that looked at you weirdly but not minding you at all.

Once you stopped by his door, you had to take a long breath before knocking. Here you were, demolishing every plan you had about him. The main plan was ignoring him, but there you were knocking at his door, with his clean bento and some homemade cookies you found at the cafeteria. Was it enough to show that you were actually sorry?

That question pawned your soul. Were you actually sorry, or did you just wanted to forget the event and come clean with him to fully enjoy your date with Todoroki? Didn't that make you a bad person after all?

Saying sorry just to wash away your guilt and move on to the next while keeping in the tab the main plan of ignoring him?

Why did he have to be so stubborn with you? Why was it so hard to forget the fact that you had sex with him and move on with his life like he actually did with the other girls?

You were paying off some karma's debt or something. Why you? Jirou and Denki said once that it was fun to rile you up, but that was after solid three years of friendship, not two weeks after you knew each other.

The soft sound of your knuckles against the door echoed in the empty hallway. You were crossing your fingers for him not to be inside of his room, but once again, the world was against you.

He opened the door, sweating like a pig. Tiny drops of sweat gathered in the line of his hair just above his forehead. He didn't hide the anger when he saw you in front of him. The muscles in his body plastered against his black tank top made you feel like you were shrinking more and more under his stare.

"What are you doing here?" He was quick to ask with a disgusted facade.

You knew that he was rough, like in every sense of the word. He was rough when he talked. He was rough when he walked. He was rough when he trained, and he was rough in bed. You tried to forget the last part, but your intrusive thought never let that down.

Anyway, he was rough, but that day, in lunch break, you could swear that you saw a little bit of softness when he watched you eat his food, just a peak of it. Now, that was gone, and it was your fault.

"I'm here to give you your bento back." You extended the tupperware, and he accepted it with caution that his fingers didn't touch yours.

"That's it?" He looked at the container in his hands, purposely avoiding your eyes.

"No"

It was one word, but that caught his attention instantly.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry I left you today. It was so rude doing that after you were nice to me. " Hardly ever, you had to apologize for something, so you sucked at it.

You only had a grunt in return.

"And I also have some 'I'm so sorry' cookies for you." You grabbed a transparent bag and waved it in front of his face.

The way he rolled his eyes at the sight of it made you smile. He was crumbling in front of your eyes.

"Come in loser," he turned around and left the door open, expecting you to get in with him. It wasn't part of your plan, but it was the least you could do. After all, you were friends, right?

You closed the door behind you and observed your surroundings. You've been there before but it was dark and you were seeing double so it didn't count.

It was a pretty Bakugo room. A couple of band posters, a ton of books, gym equipment, and a pc gamer. Super boyish.

"You don't have a roommate?" You pointed towards one of the room's corners where should be a second bed.

He wanted to make a joke about how good you were faking dementia but he just shook his head instead.

"A dropout"

You were pacing in his room, looking at everything and touching it if it caught your attention. Bakugo was tucking his gym equipment away while you snooped every inch of his dorm.

The man was there, looking smoking hot after steamy training, but the smell in his room didn't show it.

"Do you have those electric pots where you can prepare meals here? It smells like burnt caramel, " you asked, scrunching your nose.

If someone paid Bakugo for every person who asked that before, he would be a millionaire. At first, the mere question embarrassed him a little, but now he was used to it.

"It's my sweat because of my quirk," he said with raspy voice.

The realization hit you hard. That smell was the one you remember from that night impregned in your clothes. It made sense, actually.

Bakugo found it hard to believe that you hadn't realized before. You were smart, smarter than half of the school, but he couldn't blame you. After all, you never have ever shared a class.

"So...are we going to play 10 questions or what?" You asked, suiting yourself in his gamer chair. It was really comfy with little pillows on the head that you couldn't reach and in your lower back.

"Tch, no, why?" You rolled your eyes at his answer. He was sitting in his bed doing absolutely nothing. What a lame fucker.

"How are we supposed to be friends if we know nothing about each other?" you stated, marking the obvious. "Ok, who's first"

"Like hell, I'm going to play a stupid game with you." he crossed his arms on top of his broad chest, and that little movement lifted his tank top, giving you a subtle look of his abs. You needed to remain composed for the sake of you.

"How boring! I'll start then. " You were thinking a good question and something to get on his nerves. "What's your favorite color?"

"Basic ass question, red," he snorted but followed along.

"Your turn," you urged him to keep going.

"Why don't you shut the fuck up?" He scolded you sighing and grabbing his head in his hands just to lay flat on his bed waiting for you to magically disappear.

"Because I learned how to talk, my turn"

It wasn't funny doing this without looking at his face. You found that the way his brows knitted together or the way his forehead wrinkled in exasperation was the main entertainment for you.

"How did you learn how to cook?"

You really wanted to know this, but putting a real question in between a dumb one was a power move. Well, that's what you thought.

"My dad taught me, and I continued improving my skills watching videos and practicing dishes"

You standed from your seat and walked straight to his bed. Folding a leg under your butt you sat beside him. He had his eyes closed, but the sudden sinking of his bed made him snap his eyes wide open.

The sight of you against the light of the window had him staring a little too much. You were analyzing him as well, but with another reason, you wanted to see if he was messing with you or if he actually excelled in something else than grades and training.

"My turn," he diverted your attention. "Where did you learn to ruin the fucking rice and the vegetables?"

"That's a trap. You can't copy my question!" You smacked his arm and he smirked.

"I didn't copy you" he mumbled closing his eyes again.

"You just changed a few words to make it look like it wasn't the same" you huffed and leaned against his bed pillow. "Fine, I let it slip only because I'm actually a good cooker"

"Yeah sure" he added sarcastically.

"I am" you whined. "That excuse of lunch was made by Aizawa, he's a great cooker too but that specific plate is not his strong point"

The day you told him that Aizawa was your guardian, he was impressed. He had never seen you with him before, but the fact that he packed you a lunch was a strong sign that you were close.

"Text me if Aizawa plans to give you that again," he said, opening his eyes again just to look at your reaction.

"Why?" Again, you were smart, but sometimes the kindness in humanity caught you unprepared. Mostly if the kind act was made by Bakugo himself.

"Rat poison is better than that. I'll bring you something to eat so you don't die"

The way he insinuated the most caring thing in the world, making you all flustered in your seat and then instantly went back to his obnoxious state, made you squeak internally. What was happening? Everybody knew the tales of Bakugo being a pain in the ass as a person with everyone except for his friends. It seemed you were one of them now because you were more than surprised to witnessed this change of demeanor in him.

"Your turn dumbass"

From princess to dumbass? You were making progress.

End note:

big bulky handsome Bakugo has a soft spot for reader? Of course he has. That's what the story is about. It seems that they reached a concensus for now, but how is Bakugo going to react when he finds out that reader has a date with Todoroki?? We will see...

A penny for your thoughts about this (not really but express yourself)

taglist: @kiridagremiln @aefillor @screechingfangirlaf @chuugarettes @gold24fish @dreamcastgirl99 @andyetshewrote @budibbly @candiiee @linkfromskywardsword @galaneiaeris @fantasynerd05 @big-denki-energy @3thr3al @marsbars09 @whatswrong7 @scaranthropy @cc1306 @junehasnotbeenfound @jeanbabygirl @pirana10 @sappho-the-kitten-tamer @ahbeautifulexistence @polarbvnny @th0tformikasa @surprisemodafakas @xxjesshuxx @katsuisbaby @azzo0 @atashiboba @azzo0 @berryvioo @hiimsaraandyou @bizzybkd @regrexx @justsinri @slut-4-gojo @bexxs @lemuhr @monkeycheeks-lvl26 @tsukikoxo @sikuthealien @mia-luvs @dondeh-zedonutqueen @the-queen-yn @stardream14 @pretty-sparkle-bomb @itzjustj-1000 @m-atcha-tea @liluvtojineteyam @shosuki @v3n7s @yoyolovesdaiki @jenna-sakura @femi12hhf @aejabba @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere

taglist continues on the comments.

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milla-frenchy · 4 months

Note

Imagine Tommy pussing you off so go find Joel, Joel fucks you, you call Tommy and put it on voicemail so he can here you screaming Joel’s name

Does Joel put on a show? Does Tommy jerk off ti the sound? Does Joel get mad at you for getting him involved in this and and and and-

Mood board @aurorawritestoescape 😍🤌 (pic for mood only)

0k7 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist Warnings: 18+ mdni. Infidelity, masturbation (m), degradation, piv, creampie. No age specified

a/n: @romanarose I changed a little part of your ask, hope you’ll like what I imagined 🙏 @aurorawritestoescape thank you for beta-ing 💕😘

***********

Joel was not particularly a good man. His sense of morality was questionable. It always had been, and that would probably never change. So when you knocked on his door to complain about Tommy after he ended up at Travis County for what seemed like the 100th time, Joel didn't think it could be a bad idea to let you in.

When you sat on the couch and told him that Tommy had hit on a waitress in a bar, and that her boyfriend had beaten him up before the two of them were taken away by the cops, he didn't even hide his smile. His brother had always been a loser, and that wasn't going to change any time soon.

“I’m so tired of his shit, Joel. How many times have I got him out of prison? And he was flirting with another girl. Again. I wonder if he fucked that one, too.”

And that’s how you ended up in Joel’s bed, legs spread, his cock pounding your cunt hard and fast, eyes fixed on your dripping hole, that was covering him in white.

When you got a call later that evening, your head was buried in a pillow and Joel was gripping your hips. You didn't even check who was calling you.

When your phone rang again the next day, Joel’s cock was buried balls deep in your core. And when he saw his brother's name on your phone, he told you to pick up. You were still pissed off and didn’t hesitate, putting the call on speaker just as Joel started fucking you again. Your moans were the only sounds that came out of your mouth.

“Uh, babe? What the hell is going on?”

“You broke your toy, little bro. Now I’m fixin’ it… oh fuck, that pussy’s so fuckin’ tight...”

“The fuck? Joel?! Babe, is that a fuckin’ joke?”

Joel was fucking you so good, spreading your walls around his cock and perfectly hitting your g spot, that you didn’t even bother to answer Tommy. Besides, Joel was dealing with him perfectly.

“You didn't tell me she was so good at takin’ a cock. Suckin’ it too. Blew my load down her throat this morning. Been fuckin’ her all night, shit…”

“Fuck, baby? Why are you doin’ this to me?”

“Well, I think it has something to do with the other women you’re banging, jackass...”

“Oh fuck, baby, come on… You know I love you, right?”

“Oh, shit. She’s suckin’ me in, Tommy. She’s squeezing my fuckin’ cock so tight…”

Joel knelt between your thighs, one hand gripping your waist, fucking you as if you were a rag doll. Rubbing your clit with his thumb, spitting on it for Tommy to hear. His brother was no longer talking, and you only heard his breathing. More and more unsteady.

Joel sneered and said “Jesus Christ, Tommy, you’re jerking off, hearing me fuck your girlfriend?”

You let out a moan that wasn't just from Joel's cock and finger.

“Gonna fill her up soon. Hope she’s on the pill or something, or we’ll have some weird family lunch, lil’ bro...”

You heard Tommy grunt, and the fist clenched on his cock sped up his movement. You could hear the fap fap fap as clearly as if he had been in the same room as you. Watching Joel railing you.

“Shit Tommy, you’re such a loser. Ya gonna fuck her through my cum tonight, uh? She’s so full of me, man…”

“Fuck, fuck, ‘m gonna come…”

“Yeah? Ya want your toy back after I fixed it?”

“Yeah, yeah. Baby, wanna fuck you… want you to be full of me too. Please? Please, baby. Lemme fuck you tonight.”

“Tommy…oh, fuck, Joel is fucking me so good… I’m gonna come on your brother’s cock… again.”

“Fuck, fuck. Yeah, keep talkin’ to me like that.”

“He made me cum so many times since yesterday, you know… Oh, god… His cock is so thick, baby…”

“Shit, oh….oh fuck I’m gonna…ah fuuuuuuuck.”

Tommy shot his load onto your bed and on his fist, and you came hearing his moans, clenching on Joel’s cock. He told you “what a good girl you were, taking his big cock so good” until he filled your cunt already full of his spend. You heard Tommy panting over the phone. “Get your ass over here and fuck her in my bed. And when you’ll stick your dick in her cunt, your cock will be soaked in my cum.And I bet you’ll cum in 5 seconds, little bro. Like a damn loser.”

***************

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

Follow @millafics and turn notifications on for fics updates

@pascalsanctuary @littlemisspascal @survivingandenduring

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #tlou #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #tommy miller #friends of juice collective

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

Note

AITA for being kind and civil with people who drive me insane?

So this is something that happens all the time and it's a pattern so to save your time, I'll only mention the one incident which that I got called out for several times, it's starting to make me think I might be TA.

I (34F) work in a grocery store. Maddy (???F) works in the security department and is in charge for looking through our grocery to ensure we didn't steal anything (our workplace is uncomfortably strict about this since many employees have stole in the past) She is very rude, I never liked her. She makes me so uncomfortable a lot because she yells all the time. At everyone. She never realized how offensive she is.

Anyway, sometimes I'd walk past her after my shift forgetting that I'm carrying grocery bags etc and she'd yell at me to get back there. It's always embarrassing because anyone who witnesses that would most likely assume I'm a shoplifter because of the way she's yelling. She yells about other stuff too mind you, don't think I always forget the fact I'm carrying grocery. They don't allow us to bring our bags inside and we have to keep them in our locker (according to her, I never heard this elsewhere). She yells at me if I try to take my purse with me if I'm in a hurry. She says it's ~the rules~ and we need to follow them but like, she the only security staff who's this strict about it. The others don't even bother to check our groceries because they trust we don't shoplift and it's actually stupid because we could still shoplift anyway and hide the items in our pockets and they don't perform a body check anyway (they used to in the past but were legally required to stop because of Covid).

How do I deal with her though? Every time she'd yell, I reply to her very calmly and attempt small talk to absorb her anger. For example, if she's angry about my grocery, I'd show them to her and ask stuff like "what is you favorite brand of milk/bread/egg etc etc"

She does engage but it never made her actually stop and think about her behaviors for a single second. I have always stopped to chat with her whenever I can and she always speaks calmly when I do, but returns to yelling when I "break the rules" as she says.

But here's the thing. My patience is limited. I'm like a battery, if you keep charging me, I'll eventually explode. I planned remaining civil with Maddy forever, but enough is enough and I accidentally lashed out. I lashed out on her ONCE only, I yelled much louder than she did, for 30 minutes, lecturing her about work etiquette. She was so surprised and taken aback. She told me "where did this all come from?" Like she didn't see it coming? She seriously mistook my patience and tolerance of her behaviors for friendliness. And that was the last time we talked, I reported her to HR the next day because I don't think she'll ever get the memo, and that's when I learned thst so many employees have complained about her already but they can't fire her because she an outsource and has strong connections in her company, management has already talked to her numerous times but she just doesn't listen, so don't call me TA for not communicating, it doesn't work with her.

My friend Gloria (28F) and many others including our manager (F30s) told me I should've not been chatting with her, I should just ignore her and disengage. They think the fact I'm talking kindly to her will just make her assume she isn't doing anything wrong and encourage her to keep behaving like that, and that she'd think I want to be friends??? None of that is my intention. I just want to be civil to her to indirectly get her to realize her behaviors weren't acceptable. I'm setting a good example for her, to learn from me how she should treat people and soften her heart.

I was called TA because they said I didn't have to be civil with her if I knew I might eventually lash out (but lashing out isn't something I planned??), and I should've just avoided her and set boundaries. Gloria told me it's an AH move to go out of my way to interact to someone I despise when ignoring them is an option and that makes me two faced and makes the people around me wonder if I truly like them or I'm basically tolerating them, but this wouldn't happen if I they weren't rude in the first place?

BTW a similar thing eventually happened with Gloria because her attitude sucked with me and I lashed out eventually because enough is enough, she said she should've known not to trust me because of how I treated Maddy and I shouldn't have befriended her if I "hated" her so much. AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole #eyestrain

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 1 year

Note

hi!! i’m a big wuss and cry at least twice a week. could i possibly request a ghost x reader where reader is new to the task force and everyone but ghost has warmed up to them and really enjoys their bubbly presence? ghost says something kinda mean, reader cries, and then goes quiet for a few days/a week. everyone notices the change in their personality and gets confused until ghost makes it right <3

Thanks for this request!!🙃🩷 same same tho.

We All Have Our Demons

Simon Riley x Reader

Warnings: mentions of crying, swearing, angst w happy ending

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were recently just introduced to the 141 as the newest member. Your sniper skills were top tier, and Price had jumped at the opportunity to make you a part of his team.

The boys on the team had instantly taken a liking to you. You were a welcome addition to the team, and your presence alone helped shift the mood of the team tremendously.

Everyone on the team had been incredibly welcoming to you, all except Ghost. He'd been standoffish since you'd arrived, only giving you a nod when you'd introduced yourself. You had originally just chalked it up to him being weary if he could trust you. Which you more than understood, so while you kept your distance, you still made it a point to be nice to him.

He was always very curt and professional, never letting you hold a conversation with him, but that did not stop you from trying.

You'd always offer to help with various tasks, picked up coffee for him just the way he liked, and on multiple occasions had tried striking up conversations with him, to no avail.

One night, you'd decided you were going to try and talk with him. You weren't used to someone being so standoffish toward you, and wanted to know what you could've done wrong.

Making your way into the weapons rooms, you popped your head in to address your superior.

"Lieutenant?" You approached him with a wide smile.

He regarded you with clear disinterest and mumbled out a "What is it, Sargeant."

"I just wanted to check in with you, sir. I was wondering if perhaps.. I'd done something wrong?" Your hands started to grow sweaty, and you nervously rubbed them on your thighs.

He turned back to his weapon. "Wrong?"

"You just.. seem to not like me, and I'm not sure what I could've done to offend you."

"Like you? It's not my job to like you, and this isn't the place for annoying shit such as friendships. If that's what you're looking for, perhaps you should've looked to do any other field than this one, Y/N." Ghost sputtered, his eyes narrowing at you as he slammed his gun down in frustration.

Your mouth parted slightly, shock washing over you at his words. You knew he was a tough shell to crack, but you'd never thought he'd be so outwardly mean.

"Of course, sir. Sorry to bother you." You muttered meekly, turning to walk to the door. You blinked away tears, and aggressively wiped them from your eyes, not wanting anyone to see you cry.

For the next few days, you'd been rather quiet and kept to yourself. The boys would constantly come up and ask you to join them at the pub or for spar sessions, but you'd always politely decline.

Ghosts words had sunk deep, creating a wound you weren't sure how to heal. Were you really that annoying? Did everyone on base feel that way about you? The words ate and ate at you, and you'd ultimately decided to keep to yourself so as not to bother anyone around you. Perhaps Ghost was right. You weren't here to make friends.

The boys grew concerned, your normally bubbly attitude was gone, and they were lucky if they could even get a few words out of you.

"Anybody know what's going on with Y/N? They have been unusually quiet lately, and I'm worried about them." Soap had asked, sitting down to eat with Gaz and Ghost.

"I've tried talking to them a few times but can barely hold a conversation. You didn't hear it from me, but it was rumored that they left the weapons room crying Friday night." Gaz spoke, a sad smile forming on his lips.

Ghosts ears perked up at this information. You were with him in the weapons room Friday night. You left crying? Why would you have left- Oh. A wave of guilt came washing over him as he realized what had you so upset.

He truly didn't mean to make you upset. He was so used to keeping himself protected. He was afraid to let anyone else in. Then you came in with your bubbly attitude, and regardless of how much he tried to push you away, you still showed interest in him. He was so scared to open himself up to you, this ray of sunshine, and get himself hurt. He couldn't take more hurt in his life.

Shaking his head of his thoughts, he went to go and find you.

You were sitting in the courtyard watching the night sky. Your mind was racing with negative thoughts that you couldn't seem to push away. Deciding to turn in early for the night, you moved to stand when you heard a voice call your name. You turned around and were met face to face with Ghost.

"Oh, Lieutenant. Didn't know you were out here. Don't mind me, I was just leaving." You nervously tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and made for the entrance.

"Wait." Ghosts voice halted your movements. "I uh, I wanted to talk."

You turned to him, tucking your bottom lip in between your teeth, and nodded your head slowly.

Ghost looked to the ground for a moment before speaking. "I'm.. not exactly a guy known for extending warm welcomes."

You swallowed thickly, expecting him to continue, but he didn't.

"It's alright, sir. I understand." You said softly.

Ghost lifted his eyes from the grass to meet your warm ones. He felt his heart palpitate from the way you were looking at him. You'd looked so innocent to him.

"No. It's not. I don't give my trust out easily, not to anyone. But that's no excuse to treat you as I did." You could tell Simon was doing his best to apologize, in his own way.

"We all have our demons, sir. I can't fault you for protecting yourself and the team. But I assure you I have nothing but good intentions." You assured him, not breaking eye contact.

"I know." He nodded, his eyes shifting back to the ground beneath him. There was something about the way you looked at him. It made him feel things he'd never felt before. You were such a warm person, and he didn't know how to take you.

"Well, if that's all, I'll leave you to your night, Ghost." You turned to make your way out again, stopping when you heard him speak once more.

"Simon."

"Sorry?"

"My name, it's Simon." He lifted his eyes to yours, and held your gaze.

Your eyes lit up from the small bit of information he'd given you. It wasn't much, but it was a sign he was willing to try opening up to you.

"It's nice to meet you, Simon." You giggled, a vibrant smile covering your face.

He nodded, thankful his mask was covering the light pink tint that was forming on his cheeks.

"Theres... there's a coffee shop up the road. Usually, go to it every now and then. Good coffee there." He fumbled out, heart stammering in his chest. "Be my treat. It's the least I can do for being an arse."

"I would love that, Simon." You were practically beaming. You couldn't stop saying his name, and he sure wasn't complaining. He quite liked the way it sounded coming from your lips.

He held out his arm to you, and you gladly linked your arm in his. "Shall we?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! Wasn't too proud of this one, tbh I rewrote it quite a few times.

Was kind of thinking of making this a 2 parter?

#cod imagine #simon riley imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 x reader #simon riley angst #ghost imagine #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you

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hahaifolded · 13 days

Text

141 x POC!GN Intelligence Operative - Thanks for the help Author's Notes: here's the second one of the four. also sincere question, did this make sense? Warnings: MDNI, Racism (not Ghost tho), Angst

Did Ghost feel bad for screwing Gaz over? Of course not. All's fair in love and war. Did it hurt seeing you so downtrodden the next few days? Absolutely.

He doesn't like how you would walk onto base, worried about your position on this team. But he has to stay strong. For the sake of the task force, Ghost and the rest of the team have to suppress their feelings. Losing you would be too great of a loss.

That’s why he keeps his distance. He can’t be tempted if he stays away. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t indulge a bit if you went looking for him first.

Deep in his paperwork, Ghost is interrupted by light knocking. He looks up, and to his surprise, you are standing at his door.

“What do you want?” he barks. He didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh but he could see Price behind you in the hall on his phone. Not wanting to risk any misunderstandings, Ghost kept his persona on.

You step back a bit before entering. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I was hoping you can help me with something, if it’s not an inconvenience, of course. And I completely understand if you can’t. I’m perfectly capable of—”

“Ask and we can see.” Clearly you were rambling because of your nerves. Nerves that you never had when you were around Ghost before.

“I'm doing an intel overview with the rookies at 14:00 today and they have a tendency to question authority. Wanted to see if you're free to have my back in there?” The authority they questioned was really just yours as a lot of the rookies saw you as a diversity hire. You kept this to yourself as you didn't want to come off as difficult to work with. And thankfully, Ghost never asked whenever you asked him for help with the rookies. So you were hoping that he was still willing to help you.

Seeing this as an opportunity to be your hero, Ghost agrees. He wanted to show you that despite everything, you can always count on him. He can’t help but feel some glee when you throw him a smile as you leave, something he hadn’t seen in awhile. However, any joy Ghost felt evaporates as Price walks in.

"Need something cap?" he asks. He knew Price was up to something as a small smirk sat on his captain's face.

"Just wanted to let you know that I'm about to leave for my check-up. Gaz and Soap are off base today, so you're in charge," he informs. Ghost squints his eyes. There's no way that was all he wanted to say. And right he was as Price whips back around.

"Shit. Just remembered. I have a meeting with some captain today at 2pm. Cover for me, will you?"

Ghost's eyes bulge out. He can't. You need him at 2.

"Don't worry. It's a short meeting. It'll be over before you know it," he reassures. And before Ghost has a chance to rebuttal, Price leaves, leaving him with no choice but to follow orders. He considers texting you, but decides against it. He didn't want to let you down and besides, if Price said it was a short meeting, then it should be a short meeting. When has Price every led him astray?

Now actually as the clock read 2:55 and Ghost was still in his office, talking to this random captain. He knew he should have texted you. As the captain kept talking about some possible collaboration between the 141 and his team, Ghost stares at the clock, hoping, pleading that you were fine.

By 3pm, you accept that Ghost wasn't coming. Despite your efforts, the rookies keep talking over you, questioning your work. The longer it went, the tighter your throat got. Right now, you need support, you need back up, you need Ghost. Your Ghost. The one that would always have your back. The one that saw you as his teammate. The one that still saw you as his teammate.

Instead, you had the Ghost that couldn't even send you a text. Realizing these rookies weren't going to listen, you call it quits and end the meeting early.

By 3:47pm, Ghost finally frees up. If he was lucky, maybe you were still in your meeting. But to his dismay, as he walks out to the hall, he sees Price standing at your door. As he gets closer, he hears Price's annoyed and your tired tone.

"What do you mean you couldn't finish the meeting?" scolds Price. You stand at your desk, clearly exhausted.

"Like I said, the rookies weren't paying attention so--"

"So? It's your job to get their attention."

"I understand that, but--"

"I don't think you do actually," Price says, letting out an exasperated breath. He turns around and notices Ghost coming up behind.

"Ghost, just the man I wanted to see," he announces. Ghost stills, confused by the sudden change in Price's attitude. "I saw you took my 14:00 instead of cancelling it. Thanks for the help," he said while clapping a hand on his shoulder.

This motherfucker! Price just played him. Ghost shifts his gaze to you and sees you looking at him in disbelief. In your mind, Ghost had purposely abandoned you.

Turning his attention back to you, Price hits the final nail on Ghost's coffin. "You should try to be more like Ghost here. He knows how to be a real team player." You just nod.

Ghost doesn't miss the way your eyes go completely blank.

Word Count: 940

More Thoughts - Next Thought

#cod fanfic #cod x poc!reader #cod angst #cod x reader #141 x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #john mactavish x reader

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fourmoony · 4 months

Text

𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐬

james potter x f!reader

summary: james and reader have sexual tension

cw: smut, fingering, oral (f), language, drinking, mdni

1.2k, wrote this while listening to KHELANI by Jordan Adetunji, highly recommend

James is across the living room, almost hidden by the crowd of people around him. You can just see him through the gap in Sirius and Remus' heads. He's laughing at something one of them has said, teeth a pearly white against the dim lighting in the room, lips full and tinted red from cherry vodka. His hair is a haphazard mess on his head, the neck of his t-shirt stretched out from Sirius' inability to be aware of personal space when he's drunk.

The party's loud. It's rowdy and bordering on a police visit. There's people everywhere, an overwhelming number of bodies pressing against you. You let them pass, sip from the cup in your hand, pretend to listen to the girls as they shout over the deep bass of the music. Adrenaline flows through your veins, eyes trained solely on James. He's ethereal, in his element, a greek god of a man. He's enticing, a need growing in the pits of your belly until you're practically begging him to look at you.

He does. Quickly, at first, as though checking you're still in the general vicinity. It's your pleased smile that has his eyes landing on you a second time, discarding everyone around him as his eyes zero in on yours. His gaze is charged, his face perfectly neutral. Your hands flex around your cup, lips tilting up at the corners. A mutual understanding passes, the build and snap of restraint.

The bass of the music from Sirius' sound system travels up your legs, hits your chest.

James dismisses himself wordlessly, walks with his eyes on you until he's practically barging Lily and Marlene to the side. They hardly bother. Your head tilts to meet James' gaze. Slow, calculated. It makes James' jaw clench. "Good night?" He asks as he dips closer to your ear.

Your eyes shutter closed at the proximity, the warmth of his breath on your neck, the smell of him. Woodsy, clean. The forrest when the sun breaks through the trees after a storm. "Could be better."

James pulls back to read your expression. It takes everything to keep it neutral when his head tilts to the side, when his eyes narrow like he can see right through you. There's something about James that you can never pinpoint. He's sweet, he's funny. Maybe it's the drink or the darkness of the room, the slow bass of the music, you're not sure. But like this, at parties, finding each other in the corner of the room, James seems... different. Sexually charged energy exudes from him in a way it doesn't any other time.

Your pulse quickens when he reaches to brush a strand of hair from your shoulder, hand cupping and thumb pressing to the skin, feeling the quick beat. "What kind of host would I be if I didn't offer to make it a better evening, for you?" James asks.

"A bad one." You shrug.

You're not sure if it's that exact sentence that does it. The challenge in your tone, the half-lidded close of your eyes, or the way your bottom lip folds between your teeth. But James has you in his bedroom in a minute flat, back against the door and his lips against your neck. His hips press you to the cool wood, hands hiking up your skirt until they're firmly on your hips.

He's everywhere at once, firm and filthy. You're not sure you imagined James like this, ever. His nails press half moons into the very top of your ass, his grip firm. He kisses fast, lips eager to travel every inch of skin he can get. Across your jaw, down your throat, teeth scraping and nipping at your pulse point, your collar bones, the round of your shoulder, until his weight against you is the only thing holding you up.

"James," You whine, hands fisted in the material of his shirt, head spinning. "Jamie."

You feel him smirk against the swell of your tits, the nip of his teeth. "Yeah?"

"Need more."

His hands squeeze at the flesh of your ass, pulling his head up until he's directly in front of you, eye to eye. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

The breath stills in your lungs, barely managing a nod before James sinks to his knees. His hands are soft, running paths of goose bumps across your thighs, down your calves. His hand circles your ankle, lifts gently the crook of your knee rests over his shoulder. Your head thumps against the wood of the door, a moan slipping from between kiss bitten lips.

James looks sinful, on his knees, chin resting against your sternum. He pushes your skirt up further, presses a kiss just below your belly button. Your thumb swipes across his brow, a breathy sound leaving you. He doesn't waste time, kisses his way down until the only part of his face visible are his long lashes. Your hands find purchase in his hair, his hands on your hips, pressing you to the door on one wobbly leg.

His tongue swipes once, a test. Your heel digs into his spine in response, fingers twitching in his hair. He licks a second time with more intent, teeth scraping gently. It sends you jolting, moaning his name. It spurs James on, long, languid strokes of his tongue that have you writhing against him. His nose bumps against you, a dizzying euphoria that has your hips fighting against the grip of his hands for more.

One of his hands slips, drags across the underside of your thigh until he's switching out his tongue for his fingers, lips everywhere on the sides of your thighs. He presses a finger in, thick and filling. He crooks at the top, sends you spiralling until you're unaware where you are, chasing nothing but the pleasure he offers you. James smiles against your skin, whispers how good you are, how well you're taking his fingers, how good you feel squeezing around them.

"Fuck, I'm close, James." You whine.

James smiles, looks up boyishly, proud. He looks so beautiful, lips smeared with your slick, hair a mess where your hands are tangled in ink coloured curls. "Yeah?" He asks, breathlessly. "Show me."

The moan that leaves your throat is guttural. James adds a second finger, uses his tongue to swirl around your clit. The band of pleasure in your stomach pulls taught as you babble nonsense, too distracted by the beautiful, muscled man on his knees below you to care about how stupid and desperate you sound.

James' fingers move in tandem with his tongue, fast and harsh, a perfect mix that has you clenching down against him in minutes, an embarrassingly loud moan tumbling from you. James' fingers keep pumping, tongue lapping up every last piece of you until you're practically a crumpled mess.

He kisses all the way down your leg as he lowers it, allows you to catch your breath, and then stands. His lips meet yours, wet and sweet, the taste of yourself on him dizzying. "Good night?" He asks, for a second time.

His voice is strained, like he's holding back. You nod, legs shaking. "Yes."

James nods, moves a strand of hair from your forehead with his thumb. "Good."

The door creaks open, pushing you forwards with it. James gives you a once over, "Catch you downstairs."

The door closes and you collapse against it, sinking until you meet the floor. It takes several minutes to collect yourself.

#james potter #james potter imagine #james potter fic #james potter smut #james potter fluff #marauders #marauders fic #marauders smut #remus lupin #remus lupin fic #remus lupin imagine #sirius black #sirius black fic #sirius black imagine #peter pettigrew imagine #harry potter #smut #love #fluff

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punkshort · 8 months

Text

somewhere to run | 6. the confession

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel finds out the truth and convinces you to press charges.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, PTSD type symptoms, mutual pining, domestic violence and SA (discussed after the fact), mental and physical abuse, detailed conversations about DV and SA (I didn't get too descriptive about the SA but I do use the R word a couple times) please let me know if I missed anything because there is a lot going on here

WC: 9K

A/N: as the title implies, we are going to get more details about what happened to reader in this one so once again, please heed the warnings and don't read if you think it will be triggering for you. I tried not to be too graphic.

Series Masterlist

Joel could hardly sleep that night. Instead of going to the station, he headed home so he could be with Sarah. She wondered why he got home so early from his date, but he dodged the question and the two of them worked together in silence - Sarah on her homework, Joel on his incident report. When she asked him why he was working from home, he just shook his head and said something came up. She was a smart girl. She knew something was bothering him, but she didn't push it and he was grateful.

He tossed and turned all night, his mind reeling while he looked at his phone every few minutes. He checked the volume, he made sure do not disturb was off, wondering if you would reach out, but you never did. Maybe it wasn't unusual for Patrick to not come home. Or maybe you heard what happened and you were mad at Joel. That worried him the most. The fear that his actions might have destroyed what fragile relationship he had left with you ate him up as he stared blankly at his ceiling.

Morning came too quickly and too slowly all at once. He rubbed his tired eyes as he dragged himself into the bathroom. When he leaned forward to turn the water on, he was met with a sharp pain in his chest. He glanced down, rubbing the area tenderly and realized a large bruise was forming from his fight the night before. He winced when he pressed on a particularly sensitive spot and tried his best to avoid the area during his shower.

After he dropped Sarah off at school, he headed into work, his heart beginning to beat faster the closer he got to the station. He had no doubt in his mind the whole town knew what happened last night, but he was too tired and too overwhelmed to care about their curious questions and senseless gossip.

When he walked in, he breezed right past Helen's desk with a curt nod, doing his best to avoid all eye contact until he was within the safety of his office. He booted up his ancient computer and waited, his thumb rubbing mindlessly against his lower lip as he stared out his window.

He would go to the diner today. He already decided he had to see you. The radio silence was killing him and he needed to make sure you were okay. He was embarrassed about the Facebook messages, even more so that you weren't the one to read them, but Patrick was right. They were not innocent. The words held more weight than they appeared, but he had to come to terms with the fact that you were not his, and then maybe with some closure, he would be able to move on.

The morning dragged on slowly. Bobby caught him at the coffee maker, already working on his third cup, depending solely on the caffeine to help keep him going.

"Hey, boss. You look like shit, but not as bad as him," Bobby said, pouring himself more coffee and jutting his chin to the back of the building where the holding cells were located.

"Feel like shit," Joel mumbled, leaning against the counter and taking a sip from his mug.

"Think you broke his nose," Bobby added, finally looking up at him. "Called the doc but turns out he's real busy this mornin', won't be able to come by til after hours. Such a damn shame," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Joel understood what he was saying without him having to say it. The people in this town looked out for one another and didn't take kindly to a stranger hurting one of their own. They were leaving Patrick to deal with his injuries longer than necessary.

"I don't think I broke anythin', he did that all on his own chargin' into that table," Joel said, but Bobby shook his head.

"Not the way he tells it," he replied with a chuckle. "You'd think you nearly killed him, the way he's been whinin' back there."

"No doubt lookin' for a lawsuit," Joel said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Don't worry, boss. You got a bar full'a witnesses. Hank already offered to give a statement and he was probably the only sober one there."

"Yeah, good. Thanks," Joel replied, pushing off the counter to head back to his office, trying to ignore the sideways glances of the men watching him from the bullpen. He shook his mouse and grimaced when he saw an email from the mayor looking to set up a meeting with him that week to discuss the incident. He knew he did nothing wrong, but the more attention this brought him, the worse he felt. Eventually, all of that talk would make its way back to you and Sarah, the truth most likely getting distorted along the way. He made a mental note to have a talk with his daughter that night as he slowly typed out a response to the mayor.

He swore he would try to get some actual work done, but he ended up spending more time staring out the window or at his phone, watching the minutes tick by til it was lunchtime and he could see you. Maybe he could pull you aside and talk to you in private. Maybe he could fix this.

The moment the clock read a reasonable hour, he jumped up from his seat and snatched his blazer from the coat hook, rolling his shoulders as he walked and put it on, then stifling a grunt when he felt a muscle in his chest pull from the effort.

He kept his head down as he walked down the street towards the diner, only glancing up once when he passed the pizza place. Your curtains were still drawn, no lights on that he could see, no sign of life.

A few people called out to him as he passed, but all he could muster was a tight smile and quick wave, not in the mood to get wrapped up into any conversations.

When he swung the door open, his eyes immediately went to the counter, searching you out but only finding Betty. Before he had a chance to look around the dining room, he heard María greet him.

"Where the hell were you last week?"

"I was here Friday," he muttered, looking around and avoiding her eyes.

"Yeah, with Nikki. Heard some stuff about that-"

"Is she here?" Joel asked, finally dragging his gaze to meet Maria's. She frowned and shook her head.

"No, she called in sick," Maria said, watching him carefully. "Joel, what's going on with you two? People are saying stuff about you and her husband, and-"

"She's sick?" Joel repeated, panic beginning to bubble to the surface. Maria nodded and shrugged.

"Yeah, people get sick, Joel. Hey! Where are you going?"

Joel didn't reply, he just hurried out the doors, nearly knocking down a middle aged couple as they were about to walk inside. He mumbled an apology as he jogged down the street towards your place.

Something was wrong.

Your eye cracked open when you heard the doorbell, the heavy thudding in your head making you immediately nauseous. You groaned and squeezed your eyes shut, rolling back under the covers. Maybe if you were quiet, Patrick would think you were at work and he would leave. But the bell kept ringing, the sound pinging around in your brain making the headache you already had so much worse.

When he began pounding on the door and shouting from the street, you dragged yourself out of bed and wrapped yourself in a thin robe. You knew your body couldn't take much more, but letting him in would be better than allowing him to make a scene in front of the whole town, so you forced your feet forward, still limping from the day before.

You had to pause in the doorway to catch your breath as you clutched your side, wincing in pain as you tried to gingerly walk down the steps, but you were taking too long and he just kept pounding and shouting and the all noise was making you sick.

"Stop," you called out weakly, not convinced he would even hear you, but miraculously he did because the noise finally ceased, and you sighed a small breath of relief.

Shakily, you reached out to grip the doorknob, your fingers fumbling with the locks until you finally managed to twist the brass handle, opening the door just a sliver, worried people walking by would see your face. Then, unexpectedly, you heard Joel's voice instead of Patrick's say your name softly and before you could peer around the door, you went to quickly shut it with no success. His hand gripped the door tightly, but you held firm, hiding behind the wood.

"You shouldn't be here," you told him, your voice weak and broken.

"I know you're mad at me but I gotta talk to you 'bout what happened," he said from the other side. "Please let me in."

Unbeknownst to you both, you were talking about two different things.

"If he finds you here... no, you have to leave," you said, pushing the door again, but he didn't budge.

"Patrick?" he questioned, sounding confused.

"Yes, Patrick," you rasped, getting dizzy from exerting so much energy in your weakened state. "Please just go."

"He's in jail, did - no one told you?" he asked quietly, trying to keep his voice down.

"Jail?" you repeated, and your grip on the door loosened in surprise. Joel felt it and took the opportunity to open it further. You stepped back quickly, wrapping the robe around you tighter and trying to fidget with your hair to hide the marks, but you knew it was pointless the moment you saw his face after closing the door behind him.

"What the fuck?" he whispered, his jaw dropping as his eyes slowly raked over your face, neck and arms. Your lip was swollen and cut, the scab breaking open and beginning to weep the more you spoke. Your cheekbone had a light purple bruise blooming under your skin, as did your jaw. There was a small gash near your hairline and what looked like scratch marks down your neck, leading past your collar bone and below your robe. When you shakily brought your hands up to cover your face in shame, he saw the dark bruises on your wrists.

"Oh my god," he whispered, unable to bring his voice any louder. When he reached out, you flinched away and he felt like he had been stabbed in the chest.

"You should go," you said quietly, your eyes pinned to the ground.

"I can't," he said in utter disbelief. "I can't... why didn't you call me?"

You looked like you were about to reply but decided against it and instead still kept your gaze averted.

"C'mon, lemme take you upstairs and get a look at you," he said, reaching out again, but you stumbled backwards, nearly falling onto the steps.

"Please don't touch me," you told him, holding up a hand, and he nodded.

"Okay, I won't touch you," he said, trying to remain calm while his heart was breaking. "Let's just go upstairs, alright?"

Reluctantly, you agreed and slowly ascended the steps, Joel following dutifully behind. He ushered you over to the couch, making sure you were seated before he went to your bathroom, rummaging around in your medicine cabinet while you sat there, your face buried in your palms and trying not to cry.

He came back into the living room, trying not to make you feel worse by hiding his reaction, but it was hard. He swallowed and dropped his eyes to the assortment of first aid items in his hands.

"Did you take anything for the pain?" he asked, his voice thick, his throat tight.

"Not today, no," you admitted softly. He nodded and shook out two white pills from a bottle and handed them to you before getting you some water. While safely in the kitchen where you couldn't see him, he let out a shaky breath and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to calm himself down. How could this happen? How didn't he see it? He should have checked on you earlier. He never should have fucking let you leave with Patrick yesterday. Guilt racked his brain as he exhaled slowly and went back to you in the living room.

"Here," he said, handing you the bottle of water. You took it and popped the pills in your mouth, wincing as you swallowed them down.

He sat down on the couch next to you but was sure to give you your space as he picked up the antiseptic and some gauze.

"Will you let me?" he asked, holding up the items in his hand. You paused and looked at them, then him. His eyes were wide and soft and shiny with unshed tears. Slowly, you nodded and watched as he twisted off the cap and put some of the antiseptic on the gauze, first pressing it gently against the gash on your forehead, then making a fresh one for your lip.

At first, he dabbed at the cut gently, ghosting over your skin as if he were afraid. But then he brought his other hand up to caress your chin, his fingers feather-like and so careful that it made your eyes flutter shut, his touch unlike anything you were used to. When you finally opened your eyes again, his hands were gone and he was staring at you, the look in his eyes morphing from sadness to one you were much more familiar with.

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill him," he said menacingly, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Don't," you said, shaking your head, but his eyes darkened and his jaw was set.

"Why didn't you tell me, sweetheart? I could've done somethin'. I could've-"

"What? What could you have done, Joel? I've heard it all before," you told him, your lip trembling. "I've tried. Believe me, I've tried. And it never works. Nothing ever changes and it just gets worse."

Joel shook his head, still not understanding.

"I'm a cop, I coulda protected you. There's laws in place for this kinda thing."

"I've gone to the cops, Joel! More than once! And they all told me the same shit!" you exclaimed, getting worked up now. "Then I go home, and magically my statement goes missing, or my medical exam report, and I'm in worse shape than before because guess what? It makes him really fucking mad when his buddies on the force find out what he does to his wife at home."

Joel's lips parted as he watched your chest heave for breath, the energy quickly draining from your frail body.

"I... I'm so sorry," was all he could say. He couldn't blame you for not trusting anyone, especially him, now that he finally knew the truth. Everything was starting to make sense. His guilt was pulling him down and he felt like he was drowning in it. So many things he should have done. Should have seen. He should have helped you but instead he trotted Nikki in front of you to make you feel even worse.

"I can really help you, though. I ain't like that," he said, scooting a little closer to you.

"I've heard that before, too," you said sadly, dropping your gaze to the ground. "There's no getting out of this. I thought by running I could try to start over, but it's clear now he will never let me go." You closed your eyes as two tears fell down your cheeks. You wiped them away angrily, hating yourself for being so weak all the time.

Joel felt his chest squeeze, his heart breaking as he watched you fall apart. He needed to do something. He couldn't let you down. You needed to get out of this, or else it could cost you your life.

"Look at me," he said, waiting until your tears slowed and you forced your eyes open. "I promise I'll help you. I fuckin' promise you, alright? You ain't in Pennsylvania, I ain't his buddy, and I will do whatever I gotta do to keep you safe."

You searched his face, eyes all wide and your heart sliced open, lying on the table between you. You've been let down so many times, it was so hard to tell when anyone was being truthful anymore, but you couldn't deny what you felt for him. And what he felt for you. You knew something was there, something real and honest and pure. He wouldn't have any reason to lie to you at this point, so after a moment, you nodded.

"Okay," you whispered, and you could see the relief flood his face.

He sat back on the couch and rubbed his chin in thought, staring at the TV screen across from him that wasn't even on while the gears in his tired head worked overtime.

"Alright," he finally said, slapping his knees and standing up from the couch. "First things first: you gotta get to a doctor."

You immediately recoiled and shook your head.

"Absolutely not."

"I'm sorry, but you have to. I gotta..." he trailed off and chewed the inside of his cheek before pushing onward. "I gotta have a doctor take pictures."

Your face instantly crumpled and you buried your face in your hands once again.

"I'm sorry," he whispered for what felt like the hundredth time, getting down on one knee to be eye level with you. "But in order for this to work, they gotta record evidence, okay?"

"Joel, I can't," you whimpered, your face still covered, but he nodded and caressed the side of your head with his palm.

"Yes, you can. I'll be right there, okay? Unless you don't want me there, but I'll go with you if you want. Or I'll wait outside the door. Whatever you need, I'll do it. I'm gonna get you outta this."

You sniffled and finally dropped your hands to your lap, your gaze finding his.

"This is the last time, I promise you," he said, staring deep into your eyes. "I'll never let him near you again."

You thought his words over for a moment, the two of you sitting in silence, looking at the other. One trying to earn trust, the other trying to give it. Finally, you closed your eyes and nodded, giving your consent for what was to come.

"Okay," Joel said softly, dropping his hand from your face and standing up to pull out his phone.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm lookin' up the number of a doctor I trust. She's a woman, too. She's real nice and sensitive. I've used her for a couple cases in the past," he said, finding the number and dialing it, bringing the phone up to his ear. Cases. You couldn't help but feel like just another victim the way he said it, even though he didn't mean it that way. You listened as he spoke to her over the phone in a hushed tone, not giving too much of your information away but insisting it was an urgent matter. When he hung up, he turned to you with a weak smile.

"She can see you this afternoon."

"Oh," you said, glancing down at your appearance. You weren't expecting to leave the house that day and you weren't sure what to do.

"It's okay," he said, sitting down next to you again and resting his hand on your knee. "I'll take you through the backdoor of her office, no one'll see you. She'll be fast."

You nodded and looked up at him.

"Maybe I should shower," you said. He paused and shifted his gaze away.

"You, uh," he cleared his throat and rubbed his forehead with the pads of his fingers. He knew this would come up, one way or another. "I don't mean to get into too much detail, but if he..." Joel trailed off, finding it difficult to finish his sentence. "If he did more than hit you, you shouldn't shower," he finally choked out, unable to look you in the eye.

You froze, finally understanding what he meant. He kept his eyes fixed on the wall, his neck tensing, his nostrils flaring, as he waited for your response.

"I won't shower, then," you finally said, your voice strained.

His eyes slid shut and he dropped his chin to his chest. Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He pinched the bridge of his nose while he tried to steady his breathing.

"I'll just go change," you mumbled, standing up while he nodded, still trying to breathe.

He did his best to collect himself while you were out of the room, but he could feel himself spiraling. What was he doing when it happened? Was he watching a movie with Sarah? Was he eating dinner? Was he getting ready for his fucking date with Nikki?

He could feel the tears welling up but he quickly wiped them away. You needed him to be strong. You needed someone to help you, to take care of you. He couldn't afford to be weak right now. He would let himself feel it later, when he was all alone at home and Sarah was asleep. When nobody needed him and he could just let the guilt and shame and sorrow wash over him.

"Jesus, Joel," Carol muttered as she left the exam room. Joel jumped up from his seat, anxiously waiting for it to be over. He rubbed his palms against his pants, trying to wipe the sweat away. She sighed and looked up at him, taking off her glasses.

"So?"

"So?" she repeated, shaking her head. "So, I have your evidence."

Joel nodded, waiting for her to continue.

"She's been through a lot," Carol said softly, walking him down to her office for privacy. She closed the door but he didn't sit down.

"She's gonna be lookin' for me," he explained, jutting his thumb over his shoulder.

"I'll be quick," she said, sitting down at her desk with a sigh. "There was significant scarring and healed bones, detailing years of abuse, and definitely evidence of some most recently."

"Yeah, I imagine anyone can see that by just lookin' at her face," he replied, but she shook her head.

"I didn't mean her face."

Joel felt his breath get caught in his throat.

"Right," he finally said, his voice cracking.

"She said her husband is a cop?" Carol asked, flipping open a yellow file on her desk. Joel nodded.

"Got him in lockup right now for swingin' on me at Hank's," he explained.

Carol's eyes glanced up at his and she quirked an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I heard something about that," she said, lacing her fingers together and looking at him closely. "Can I give you some advice, Joel?"

He shifted his weight, not sure where she was going with it, but nodded anyway.

"Don't take her statement yourself. Have someone else do it, alright?"

"Why?" he asked quickly, and she gave him a knowing look.

"Because it'll be gruesome, and you're too involved."

Joel frowned.

"Too-"

"Don't care what you've got going on with her, I'm just giving you some friendly advice. Let someone else do it," she said, her eyes softening. "Besides, you got into it with her husband last night. You don't want some hot shot lawyer tossing out her testimony in court because he can link together some personal relationship between you two."

Joel considered her words for a moment and reluctantly nodded. She was right. He was having a hard time keeping things separate, and he appreciated the clarity. He couldn't fuck this up for you. Not now.

"Anythin' else?"

She leaned back in her chair and shook her head.

"You'll have my report in the morning," she said. He nodded, thanking her again for seeing you on such short notice before exiting the room. He turned the corner just as you were opening the exam room door clutching a worn hoodie around yourself and looking around frantically before your eyes fell on him and you visibly relaxed.

"Hey, sorry. You alright?" he asked, his hands gently coming up to your shoulders to guide you towards the back exit. You gulped and nodded.

"Wasn't so bad," you said.

"Good. You did the right thing," he said as he held open the door for you and led you back to his truck.

Once you were comfortably seated and Joel merged back into traffic, you shot him a sideways glance and asked him the question that had been weighing on your mind since he came over that morning.

"Joel?"

"Hm?" he said, twisting his head to the side to change lanes.

"Why is Patrick in jail?"

Joel's grip on the steering wheel tightened and there was an uncomfortable pause before he sighed.

"He came at me last night. We happened to both be at a bar at the same time, he was drunk and swung on me."

"What?!" you exclaimed, twisting around in your seat to look at him.

"I thought you knew since he didn't come home last night. Thought you were avoidin' me by callin' off work," he said, keeping his eyes fixed on the road.

"No, I had no idea. He hasn't been staying at my apartment, he has a motel room somewhere," you said, peering at his face, then dropping your gaze to his hands where you could see now his knuckles were a little red.

"Are you okay?" you asked after a beat, and he scoffed.

"Am I okay?" he repeated with a shake of his head. He looked at you in shock, the corner of his mouth turning up into a half smirk. "I'm fine. Can't believe you'd be worried 'bout me after what you went through."

"Of course I worry about you," you said softly, and he felt his heart melt. Why did you have to be so sweet? After everything you've been through, after everyone in your life has let you down, you were still so fucking sweet.

He wanted to say more. He wanted to say so much more, but he couldn't. He couldn't put that kind of stress on you. It would be selfish to tell you how much he thinks about you, how much he wished you were his, how he hasn't been able to get you out of his head since the moment he laid eyes on you. No, that would be wrong. It wasn't the right time, so he swallowed the words back from the tip of his tongue and focused on the road.

"What's next?" you asked him as he walked you up to your front door. Mercifully, the weather was threatening to downpour so the streets were quiet.

"Well, next you'll have to come down to the station and give your statement so we can formally press additional charges," he said, knowing you wouldn't want to hear it but he was surprised when you simply nodded your head.

"Okay. When?"

"Tomorrow?" he offered, and you nodded again as you unlocked your door.

"I'll have to call off work or come by after," you told him, stepping inside and turning to look at him.

"Listen, 'bout that," Joel began, and you frowned. "I gotta tell Tommy."

"No!" you cried, your eyes going wide with worry, but he shushed you and shook his head.

"I gotta tell him so he can keep an eye on things, alright? I won't be able to keep him in lockup for much longer and I can't be with you all the time to protect you, d'you understand?"

"Joel..." you whimpered, burying your face in your hands. He had to physically restrain himself from pulling you into his arms. He fucking hated seeing you like this.

"We can file a restraining order tomorrow but a piece of paper won't necessarily keep him away, and I can't risk it," Joel explained, his heart breaking for you.

"Okay," you sniffled, finally coming to terms with it. If you were going to do this, you had to trust him.

"Okay," Joel repeated. "Tommy served in the Army, he knows what he's doin', I promise. I'll tell him to keep it quiet, alright?"

"Yeah," you whispered, rubbing your nose with the back of your hand.

"And no more walkin' back from work in the dark. Take your car or get a ride. If I can, I'll drive you - " Joel pulled out his phone to look at his calendar, but you stopped him.

"I can manage, but thank you."

You looked at one another for a moment, both of you unsure what else to say. You were thankful for what he was doing but you weren't sure you had the words to properly express your gratitude. Everything you wanted to say felt so small, so insignificant. So instead of attempting to cobble together some sentence that wouldn't do your feelings justice, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face against his warm chest. He quickly brought his arms up around you in return, gently placing his hands on your head and back as he held you carefully against him, as if he was worried you would break. He was absolutely certain you could feel how hard his heart was thumping in his chest, but he didn't care. He just wanted to feel you, to hold you, to keep you safe.

"It's gonna be okay," he told you, his voice heavy, and he felt you nod against him before pulling back, his chest suddenly feeling so empty.

"Thank you," you whispered, then spared him one more glance before heading inside, the door clicking shut softly behind you.

Later that evening, after you had forced yourself to eat some soup and drink some water, you were settling in on your couch when you heard a soft knock at your door. You muted your TV and strained your ears to listen. It didn't sound like a familiar knock, not one filled with anger or urgency. You glanced down at your phone, wondering if Joel had sent you a text that you missed, but nothing was there.

Hesitantly, you made your way down the steps. Your fingers brushed the doorknob, but before you opened it, you spoke through the door.

"Who's there?"

"It's me," Maria's voice drifted through the wood, and you breathed a sigh of relief. You unlocked the door and met her eyes. She tried to hold back the wince upon seeing your face, but you still caught it.

"Heard you might need some help," she said, holding up a small plastic bag. You frowned, confused, until she tilted it open for you to look inside. There, you found a variety of makeup bottles and powders in shades that looked pretty close to your skin tone.

You opened the door and let her in. You could tell you were able to take the stairs a little quicker than the morning, and you hoped that meant you were healing because you really couldn't afford to miss more time at work.

"Cute place," she said, glancing around before following you into your living room.

"Thanks," you murmured, turning the volume back on the TV as she settled into the couch next to you.

"I hope you don't mind," she said, motioning towards the bag. "Joel called and told Tommy what happened... I'm so sorry, I wish you would've called us, we could've helped you."

"Thanks," you said with a shrug. "I guess I'm just used to dealing with it on my own."

"Well if you're ever scared of staying alone, we have a spare bedroom, so please don't hesitate to ask."

You gave her a small smile, hoping she could tell how grateful you were. With the exception of one cousin back home, nobody had tried to stand up for you before. Not even your own parents. The whole concept was so foreign to you, you weren't sure how to respond.

Maria seemed to sense this and she changed the subject, leaning forward to sift through the contents of the drugstore bag, pulling out item after item and holding it up against your arm to decide which shade would work best. She spent the next hour helping you cover your cuts and bruises, and by the time you were done, you didn't look half bad.

"How are you feeling?" she asked as she packed up her things and shoved her sneakers back on.

"A little less sore," you admitted. "I should be able to work tomorrow."

"Why don't you take one more day? Joel said you're going down to the station tomorrow, it might take more out of you than you expect."

You thought it over for a moment before reluctantly agreeing. Money was a concern, but you could wait one more day, and maybe you could pick up an extra shift over the weekend.

You thanked her as she headed down the steps and she reminded you again to call her and Tommy if you ever needed anything, and you promised you would.

When you were finally on your own again, you sat in silence, thinking about these people who barely knew you, who you essentially lied to, banding together to help you out. It was unlike anything you were used to, and you were beginning to think you may have finally found your home.

The next morning, you paced around your living room, anxiously nibbling at your nails as you waited for Joel to ring the bell. He had insisted on picking you up. He said he could swing by after he dropped Sarah off at school, that it wouldn't be a problem and he passed by your apartment anyway. You didn't understand why he was so insistent: the walk was less than ten minutes, but you didn't feel like arguing.

You were checking your makeup job in the mirror for the fifth time when the bell rang. With a deep sigh, you pulled on your sneakers, slung your purse over your shoulder and headed down the steps. When you opened the door, he was standing with his back to you under a brown blazer and his arms crossed, trying to appear casual for anybody who might be walking by, but when he heard you step through the door he swiveled around quickly.

"Good morning," you said to him with a small smile after you were sure the door was locked tight.

"Mornin'. You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," you said as he led you to his truck parked a little ways down the street.

"You really didn't have to do this, you know," you said again, glancing around to see if anyone was watching.

"I know," was all he said before opening the passenger door for you and giving you a hand to step up into the cab.

The quick ride to the station was quiet, only the hum from his radio filling the air as your fingers fidgeted in your lap. When he parked the truck and you made a move to open the door, he held a hand out.

"Wait a minute, I gotta talk to you before we go in there."

You dropped your hand to your lap and looked at him expectantly.

"I can't take your statement today, I'm gonna have another officer do it," he said, his words rushed like he knew you wouldn't take the news well. And you didn't.

"What?!" you cried out softly, anxiety already creeping up and squeezing your chest.

"I'm sorry, I can't," he said, taking a deep breath and glancing out the windshield before looking back at you. "There's a conflict of interest. Patrick assaulted me, and if I go and take your statement, it won't look good to a judge."

"Oh my god," you mumbled, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands.

"It'll be okay. I'll be right there the whole time. Right on the other side of the glass, okay? I promise, I won't leave."

He watched you for a minute, waiting for you to say something, and when you didn't he began to question himself.

"Unless you don't want me to hear, I don't have to-"

"No, I'd prefer you be there," you said quickly.

He nodded and took a deep breath in.

"I asked a female officer to do it. Her name's Beth. She's real nice, she's dealt with... situations like this in the past."

"Okay," you said softly, reaching for the handle, but once again he stopped you.

"One more thing. I gotta cut him loose tomorrow."

You squeezed your eyes shut. You knew this would happen, but it didn't stop you from feeling the overwhelming sense of dread that crept up your spine.

"It'll be fine. I'll file the restraining order today. If he comes within fifty feet of you, he's goin' right back to jail, okay?" he said, his hand coming up to rest assuringly on your knee.

"Okay," you whispered, finally opening your eyes to look at him.

"You can do this. I know you can."

You had to hold back the tears that sprung up when his words hit your ears. Nobody has ever believed in you, listened to you, took care of you the way he did, and he hardly even knew you. People who have been in your life for years, your own family didn't encourage you the way Joel did. On one hand, it was depressing to realize it took this long for someone to give a shit, but on the other hand, you were so, so relieved someone finally did.

As Joel led you into the station, he kept his head held high, ignoring the glances shot your way and you did your best to do the same. You followed him towards the back, and you hesitated a brief moment before entering the interrogation room, pushing all the bad memories to the back of your mind and focusing on the present.

You needed to put an end to this, once and for all.

You were doing okay. It was half an hour into giving your statement to Beth, and Joel was right. She seemed very kind and patient, and you relaxed after speaking with her for just a few minutes. Or maybe it was because you knew Joel was just a few feet away, watching from the other side of the glass, just like he promised. Whatever it was, you were doing better than you expected.

You had gotten through the bullet points of your history with Patrick. You had detailed how you met after you graduated from high school, how he had just gotten back from basic training with the Marines and was applying to join the Philadelphia police department. You explained how at first, things were great. He was loving and kind, for the most part, but you had been inexperienced and didn't recognize the red flags when you saw them. Like when he got overly possessive at house parties, and especially so when he started drinking. At first, you had thought it was sweet, but then he started getting a little rough. You explained at the time, he would apologize the next day and promise not to do it again, but a few weeks later, he would inevitably go back on his word. The cycle repeated itself over and over for a year, until he proposed one night in front of your entire family, and you had felt pressured to say yes. You had hoped it was just nerves, that eventually you would be excited about marrying him, but it never came. He had rushed you into planning the ceremony and you were only engaged for a few short months. And again, you fooled yourself into thinking everything was just happening so fast, that it was so stressful planning a wedding and that one day, you would be happy.

You couldn't remember the argument that caused him to first hit you. To really hit you, enough to leave a nasty bruise, but you remembered the shock, and you remembered the pain and the fear. And once again, he had apologized the following day, and you forgave him. Because you were weak and scared and confused.

"Did anybody in your life notice?" Beth asked, her eyes filled with what appeared to be genuine concern.

"I hid it at first, but eventually, yes, people noticed," you admitted, fidgeting with the edge of your shirt.

"Did they offer to help you?"

"My cousin," you said, looking down at your hands. "She helped me... she helped me find a clinic so I wouldn't get pregnant."

"Did Patrick know you were on birth control?" Beth asked gently while scratching away with her pen on paper.

"No, I didn't think he would like that."

"Why not?"

"He's made comments to me in the past about wanting a big family, and I was afraid to tell him no. I was afraid he would hurt our children, too," you said, still staring down at your hands.

"Has he raped you?" Beth asked bluntly, and you visibly balked.

"Oh, um," you faltered, the word for whatever reason sending shockwaves through you. You knew the answer, but you just hated admitting it.

"Yes," you finally said, your voice cracking, so you cleared your throat and took a sip of water.

"I'm sorry," Beth said quietly, catching your gaze and giving you a sympathetic look. "I won't ask too much today, but you need to know if this goes to trial, a judge will ask for a lot more detail. You can get a lawyer and they will help walk you through it when the time comes." She reached out across the table to place her hand on top of yours, her thumb rubbing over your knuckles. You nodded, wordlessly telling her to keep going.

"When did it start?"

"Right after we got married, I think."

"How often?" she asked, pulling her hand back so she could focus on writing.

"A few times a week, I guess? I mean, I don't know what counts. A lot of the times I wouldn't be in the mood and he would pressure me, other times were more... deliberate." You swallowed and glanced quickly at the mirror behind Beth, suddenly regretting asking Joel to listen.

"Did you tell your parents?" Beth asked, glancing up at you.

"I told my mom, yes."

"And what did she say?"

"She told me it was a wife's duty to... be available to her husband. She didn't think it was rape." You spit the last word out like it was poison on your tongue. Beth winced but tried to hide it by looking down at her notes.

"And when would he hit you?"

"It varied. Most of the time it was when he was drunk or high. He promised me all the time he would get help, but he never stuck with it."

"Did you ever have to go to the hospital?"

"Yes. A few times. He's broken my arm twice, fractured my hip, and I've had a few concussions. On one occasion, he strangled me until I lost consciousness. I had to be admitted for a bruised trachea." You absentmindedly rubbed your arm and neck as you spoke, your fingers gliding over the old wounds.

"And you've gone to the police before?" she asked.

"Yes, a couple times, but -" you could feel your resolve breaking, and you bit your lower lip to keep it from trembling. "But he always did something to make it go away, and then he would get really mad. One time when I went to file a complaint, he had a cop friend of his lock me in a room just like this one for a whole day. To teach me a lesson." You twirled your finger around the sparse room, tears glistening in your eyes. "They didn't let me out, I couldn't use the bathroom, I didn't have anything to eat or drink. I was all alone."

You stopped talking and tucked your chin against your chest, trying desperately to keep the tears at bay. You wiped a shaky palm against your cheek, drying the tears that fell before you looked back up.

"There were times he would be gone for two or three days at a time and come back, all strung out and crazy... those were the times, the times I went to the police, that I ended up in the hospital. So I stopped asking cops for help."

She nodded as she wrote, giving you a minute to collect yourself before her next question. You glanced up at the mirror again and wondered what Joel was thinking. Did he leave? Or was he still there? You almost hoped he had left. You were feeling too vulnerable as it was, but the thought of him looking at you with pity after this was over made your stomach turn.

"I've done this before," you said suddenly, pulling her attention off the page. "And it always ends up the same. Please tell me this will be different."

"It will be different," she said immediately, her jaw set. She put her pen down on her pad and laced her fingers together. "I'm so sorry the justice system as failed you so tremendously, but we will do everything we can for you now that you're here."

You nodded and wiped more of your tears away before she handed you a box of tissues from a small cabinet in the corner of the room. Taking a deep, shaky breath, you met her gaze once again.

"What else?"

"I think that's enough for today," she said, flipping the pages closed on her legal pad. "We got your doctor's report this morning, and combined with this statement we will start the process of formally pressing charges. After that, if he pleads not guilty, it will go before a judge. But let's take it one step at a time, okay?"

"Okay," you said quietly, gathering your purse and following her out of the room. Your eyes immediately drifted around the hallway and then the bullpen, searching for Joel, but he was nowhere to be found. You frowned as Beth led you towards the front lobby, prepared to walk home, when you heard his voice call your name just as you were opening the door.

"I'll take you home," he said. His face looked hardened and his eyes looked distant.

"You don't have to," you began, but he just shook his head and gingerly cupped your elbow, directing you out the door and into the parking lot.

The ride back was silent. He didn't even have the radio on. You glanced out your window nervously, trying not to read too much into it, but when he dropped you off with barely a comforting word or any acknowledgement of what you confessed, you were convinced your greatest fear had come true. Now that he knew it all, now that he finally heard the truth, he couldn't look at you the same.

You were glad Maria had the foresight to tell you to stay home that day. You were mentally exhausted. Rehashing everything and then Joel's reaction put you in an awful mood. By 4pm, after lounging around watching mindless television and checking your phone constantly for any sign of life from Joel, you decided to just make yourself an early dinner, take a shower and then go to bed early.

As you were stepping out of the shower, the water finally turned off and all of the day's makeup covering your wounds down the drain, you heard your doorbell ringing incessantly. Repeatedly. Urgently.

A jolt of dread shot down your spine, but you remembered Joel said Patrick wouldn't be let out until tomorrow. But what if he got out early? What if he made a phone call and Joel was forced to release him?

Wrapped in a robe, your hair dripping down and soaking the thin material, you jogged to the living room and checked your phone. Surely, if Patrick was released, Joel would have warned you, but you didn't have any missed calls or texts. Then the pounding on the door started, making you jump out of your skin.

Slowly, you crept down the stairs, your hand gripping the doorknob tightly, your fingers hovering over the lock.

"Who is it?"

"It's me," you heard Joel's voice say from the other side, and your eyes widened in shock. You glanced down at your robe, little streaks and drops of wetness trailing down the shiny material.

"Uh, can you -"

"Please open up, people are startin' to look at me like I'm crazy."

With a sigh, you unlocked the door and stepped back, clutching your robe tightly against your chest. Joel squeezed inside and shut the door quickly behind him before turning around, his eyes raking quickly up and down your body before looking you in the eye.

"You were in the shower."

"Yeah," you said, glancing around anxiously before looking up the stairs. "Did you want to come up or something?" He just nodded slowly, his eyes flitting down once again as you led him up the steps.

"I got worried, I was ringin' the bell but I guess you couldn't hear it," he explained, taking off his shoes and shrugging off his blazer.

"What were you worried about? He's still in jail, right?" you asked, handing him some water before sitting down on the couch.

"Yeah, I just... I shouldn'tve left you alone earlier. I shoulda stayed." He stood there, a glass of water in his hand, the other rubbing over his mouth nervously.

You stared at one another for a moment, both trying to figure the other one out. He was breathing faster than normal, his chest rising and falling rapidly under his white button down shirt.

"Why are you here, Joel?" you finally asked, your heart starting to beat faster. "Because if it's out of pity, I don't want it."

"It's not -" he cut himself off and shifted his weight before setting the water down. "It's not pity." He took two steps and sunk down into your couch, his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor, trying to figure out what to say.

"It's not fair," he finally said quietly. So quietly, you almost didn't hear him. "Everything that's happened. It's not fuckin' fair."

You scrunched your nose, confused, as you looked at him still staring down at the floor. You were about to open your mouth and ask him what he meant when he spoke again.

"I never shoulda let you leave with him that day. Somethin' felt off, I felt it in my gut-" he sat back to press his hand against his stomach for emphasis. "But I let you go. And he -"

He couldn't finish his sentence, his throat closing up as he fought to blink the tears away.

"It's not your fault, Joel," you told him, resting a hand on his broad shoulder but he stood up quickly to pace around the room.

"I'll never let it happen again," he muttered. "Never gonna let him near you again. I'll fuckin' kill him if I have to, he's never comin' here again." His voice was rising as he spoke, his breath coming in short stutters as he rubbed his forehead with the pads of his fingers, eyes wide and crazed as the panic seized him.

So it wasn't pity. It was guilt that brought him to you.

"Joel, calm down," you said, standing up to reach out to him, but he kept pacing.

"Oh fuck, I'm never gonna forgive myself," he whispered, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"You didn't do this to me, he did," you assured him, trying to get him to stop moving. "You're helping me, Joel. You're the only one who ever really tried to help me. There's nothing to forgive."

He finally paused and glanced at you, his breath a little shallow as the panic began to subside.

"I'm gonna get you outta this, I promise," he said, his voice sounding more steady.

"I know," you replied, nodding your head.

He took a deep breath in through his nose and tore his eyes away from you to glance at his watch.

"I better go," he said regrettably, looking back up at you again.

"Okay," you said, following him to the door and leaning against the wall as he put his shoes back on.

"D'you need anythin'? Did you eat? I can -"

"I ate, I'm fine," you told him with a small smile. "Thank you, though."

"Alright," he said after a moment, then forced himself to open the door. Before he stepped through, he looked back at you over his shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'm working dinner tomorrow," you told him, suddenly feeling crestfallen you wouldn't see him for lunch.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he repeated, more firm this time. You slowly nodded and wrapped your arms around yourself, hoping he couldn't see through your robe.

You listened sadly as his heavy footsteps descended the stairs and the door shut softly behind him. You knew him well enough at this point that he would have turned the lock on the knob before he left but you still wanted to peek down the steps to check. Your eyes widened when, to your surprise, he was still standing there at the bottom of your stairs, his back leaning up against the door. His eyes flicked up to meet yours when he noticed movement, and you saw Adam’s apple bob in his throat before he spoke.

"I can't leave."

You looked at one another for a long moment, your heart slamming in your chest, knowing what this meant. You were sick and tired of always trying to do the right thing. Where did it get you? How could you even fool yourself into thinking you had any obligation to Patrick anymore? Joel knew everything now. He knew what he was doing, so you said the words that were on the tip of your tongue. The words that you knew would open the door for something both of you wanted so desperately, you could taste it.

"Then stay."

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cvnntagious · 4 days

Text

Die For Me

☆ Fuckboy!Matt Sturniolo blurb for anon

Not that you cared, but Matt had been M.I.A for over a week now. He hadn't been in class, hadn't texted you, and you hadn't seen him in his usual hangout spots around campus. Not that you'd bothered to check.

Well, okay, you shouldn't have checked — But you did. Not because you cared. I mean, he didn't care, so why would you? You'd been looking for him because, for some reason, your professor had decided to hand over his work to you. It didn't seem like he knew where Matt had gone either.

You didn't really understand what this had to do with you. The professor had just told you to give it to Matt whenever you got the chance. What, did he think you and Matt were something? Because you're not. That's not what Matt wanted, and neither did you.

But as your grades began to slip, it was clear Matt was on your mind. For no reason, really. Like, you didn't like him or anything. Seriously, you didn't like him. Usually, with the help of Matt, you would've been able to de-stress by now. Even touching yourself was no good. His help had been keeping you steady for the semester, and without it, you were nothing academically. At least that's what you told yourself.

Today 10:22 PM : ' Hey sorry. Been a minute. '

That's what you saw pop up on your phone as you tried to focus on studying for the upcoming quiz. You knew who it was before you even read the contact at the top of the notification — that unreadable way of texting, topped with an annoying amount of periods, just like always. He said it'd been a minute, but it had only seemed like seconds since you last talked at that moment. You were already annoyed.

Texting back seemed like no use, brushing it off with a sigh that exuded not only irritation, but a hint of relief as well. At least now you knew he hadn't gotten himself into some shit. Not that getting into shit was much like him, it was more his brother's thing. But still, he tended to stick his nose where it didn't belong when it came to any problems Chris got into.

Today 10:25 PM : ' Come slide. Dorm's P17. '

You tried to ignore it, but the numbers caught your attention. Could he really want you this bad? Usually he'd come to your dorm, or on some rare occasions you'd meet him at Chris' frat. Never once had he bothered to give you his dorm number. This felt new, possibly refreshing. He'd always told you where he stayed wasn't necessary information— basically the nice way of saying he didn't take you seriously, nor trust you enough.

Though tempting, your better judgement told you not to give in so easily. As you held down the power button and slid the icon to power off before flipping your phone face down, you felt a certain sense of empowerment, proud of yourself for deciding it wasn't worth it. So why did you find yourself waiting for him to answer the door, fidgeting nervously as you looked at the short brown carpet of the dormitory hallway?

"Didn't even get a warning," You heard his voice as the door opened in front of you, causing you to look up at him.

With an embarrassed chuckle, you lifted your hand to show him the black screen of your phone. "It died," You lied, eyelashes fluttering as your eyes met his blue ones.

You watched his small smile as his tongue ran over his white teeth to hide it, invisalign making them chunky and, in some strange way, admirable. Then, he stepped aside, giving you room to walk into his doorway. "S'late, I know, but I just- like I said, its been a while," Matt began explaining as you walked into his dorm, leaning on the doorframe as his head followed you.

You turned to look at him after having taken in his dorm, rather unimpressed by the lack of personality. "Yeah, about that, actually— Where y'been?" You asked curiously, as he shut and locked the door behind him.

Matt only shrugged, suppressing a smirk as he took a step forward to let his hands travel down your waist. "Lot'a stuff," He replied simply, head cocking slightly to one side. Of course he wasn't going to tell you - he never told you anything. "S'a lot to handle, y'know," He then added, eyes darkening as they held contact with yours.

Your brows furrowed at his words, a bit confused. If he didn't want to tell you why he was gone straight up, you'd prefer if he didn't start hinting at stuff. "What is?" You breathed out, hands moving to rest on his forearms as you unknowingly caught his bait.

"Not being able to see you every day; To touch you every day." He said that as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, his head dipping to place open mouthed kisses on the sensitive skin of your neck. "To call you mine," He then whispered. You knew it were dumb to think he meant that, but for some reason, those four words made you want to give yourself to him completely.

Matt smiled for the first time since you'd walked in when you pulled back to admire his face, letting out a small hum when you leaned back into him to press your lips against his. Just like that, he walked you backwards towards his bed, hands slipping under your shirt to caress the soft skin of your stomach. The coldness of his silver rings caused you to hiss into the kiss, too distracted by the sensation to notice him turning you so that he was now with his back to his bed.

As he sat down on his bed, he pulled you down to straddle him, hands holding your waist. You looked down at his glossy blue eyes as your hands reached up to knock his hat off of his head, fingers threading through his brunette curls. "What d'you want, Matt?" You finally asked, one hand coming down to allow your finger to caress the underside of his chin as he looked up at you.

His hands traveled up your figure, lifting your shirt as he did so. He allowed his hands to rest on your boobs, kneeding them as he chuckled ever so quietly. "To not have to do the work this time," He answered in a teasing tone, eyes flickering down to look at where his hands worked.

Though reluctant, you lifted yourself off of his lap to hoover over it. Using one hand to stabilize yourself on his shoulder, your free hand made its way down to his belt buckle as he watched your every move intently, "Don't look so happy," You mused when your eyes had glanced up to see the excitement in his.

"You know I love this shit," He quipped as you pulled his belt through the loops, lifting himself just enough for you to pull his pants down to his thighs. You only had so long to admire all you could see through his boxers before you felt Matt tugging on your pants, pleading without words for you to take them off.

Again, you lifted yourself off of him, this time allowing him to unbutton your pants and shimmy them down your legs until they were discarded somewhere beside his bed. As he fiddled with your pants, your hand began palming him through his boxers, length already riled up from not being touched much longer than he was used to. He groaned as his eyes remained locked on yours, a wet patch turning a spot of his boxers a darker shade of gray.

After a bit of teasing, you decided it was time to finally get your eyes on the prize—his prize. Pulling it out of his boxers, you ran your hand along his shaft to feel it rock hard already. "So big," You muttered, eyes glued to it.

Matt couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips at your words, expression smug as it could be. "This's new news?" He asked playfully, a stark contrast to his usual cold behaviors. It was like he really came out of his shell when he was aroused, and you were ready to put him right back in it.

With a squeeze of his dick that caused him to grunt, you pulled your panties to the side and lined him up with your entrance. Matt looked enthralled as he watched you do your work like this were routine, hands leaving your hips to rest behind him, leaning back to tilt his head back when you sunk down onto him without warning.

His hair was messy, and he could feel he was ready to sweat with your gummy walls around him. Lips pursing together, he hummed as you began to slowly grind into him, letting you do the work, just like he said he wanted.

It wasn't long before you began bouncing on him, hands on his shoulders for stability as you let out choked moans, as if his cock were suffocating you. The quick pace had your thighs burning, struggling to keep up with it, and yet, Matt simply watched in enjoyment. It wasn't often he allowed himself to freely make noise, but you could tell he was really enjoying this, with the way he had let out more groans and pants than usual.

Seemingly out of nowhere, his hands dartted out to grip the flesh of your hips as you continued your motions. You could've swore you heard a whimper when his head dropped forward to lean on the front of your shoulder. "Fu–ck this," He drawled out to you, hips begining to meet yours as he chase his high.

This simple, not so innocent gesture only served to fuel you, completely forgetting about the burning sensation. Your bounces got bigger, lifting yourself all the way to his tip before dropping back onto him with shreik-like moans. Matt was loving this, pants and groans now following each motion on his painfully ready cock.

"K- keep goin' f'me, baby, m'gettin close," He rasped, forcing himself to lift his head from your shoulder so he could look in your eyes while he came.

You nodded, bouncing mixing with grinding as you tried to tell him you were close too. It was too late. You let out a loud moan as you snapped on top of him, Matt following suit at the feeling of your sticky liquid releasing all over his dick. Your movements slowed to ride out your guys' orgasms before eventually coming to a halt, both of you panting with each other.

"Le's, uh— We'll do that more often, yeah?"

○

"Come on over, baby, can you slide for me? Yeah / You know how I love it when you ride on me." -Chase Atlantic

w/c : 1.8k a/n : if you've sent in any anons, i promise i'm getting to them. it's taking me a while cs i take forever to write and now i'm super busy so please bare w me, these anons have been building up for months now...

-love, your grandma cvnty ☆!

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watchmegetobsessed · 1 year

Text

TROPHY WIFE

A/N: it's been quite like a drought with me, i know, but writing just didn't come easy to me lately. but i finally felt inspired to write and this is the outcome so enjoy!

PAIRING: CEO!older!Harry x Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

SUMMARY: You're not what one would expect a CEO's girlfriend to be like. You're not like all those trophy wives. But does it bother Harry? That with you it's not yachts and fancy drinks and modern luxury, just wildflowers, mismatched furniture and shared finances.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

There’s nothing better than waking up next to Harry.

Okay, there are some levels in that as well, because you truly love it when he is cuddling you and peppering your shoulder with kisses, being a total sweetheart, but there is just something even better when he wakes up needy so he ends up fucking you so well first thing in the morning that you keep thinking about it the whole day.

Today it’s the latter and you’re so glad about that. Tangled in the sheets, sweaty and eager to get more and more from each other, you just keep moaning his name until relief washes over you and it’s not even seven in the morning.

“I love you. So… so… so much,” he murmurs against your lips as he pulls you into his arms.

“I love you too,” you smirk and he just keeps kissing you.

When you first met Harry three years ago you would have never thought this is how you’d spend your mornings with him one day. He’s ten years older than you and it was a typical ‘he fell first’ situation where you tried to deny your feelings for him for as long as possible.

You thought you were as far apart as the poles, Harry was, and still is, a millionaire CEO, a true business man, living a life you could only dream about before. You, on the other hand, just finished your master’s degree back then and started working for a marketing agency that was linked with Harry’s company. You still remember the moment you laid your eyes on him, he was already looking at you with an expression that had your stomach in a knot.

He asked you out that day, not wasting any time and you said no. You said no exactly thirteen times before finally giving in and going on a date with him and you never let go of each other since then.

Now you live together and even though people tend to think that you just want to be his trophy wife and use him for his money, they can’t be more wrong. You still have your own job, you fight Harry to pay for groceries every other time and you tell him off every time he tries to give you money for nothing.

You’re equal and you never plan to use yourself just because you’re dating Harry.

He is still wrapped around you like a koala bear when you check the time and realize you better start get ready or you won’t make it to work on time.

“Uh, I need to get up,” you groan and just laugh when you feel him holding you even tighter. “Harry!”

“I want to hold you a bit more!” he whines like a child.

“I have work!”

Finally, your manage to peel him off of you and head over to the bathroom, feeling his pleased look as he follows you walk around naked. You like to tease him and all him a creep, but you both know you love it how obsessed he is with you even when you’re your truly natural self.

You’re standing in front of the bathroom mirror in your robe when he saunters into the room and leaning against the tiled wall he watches you apply your mascara in awe.

“You didn’t forget about tonight, right?” he asks, his eyes wandering down your body before returning to your face.

“Nope, fancy cocktails with your fancy friends.” You give him a teasing smirk.

“And you’ll have to wear a fancy dress,” he adds.

“I know.”

“I got you one, by the way.”

“Harry, you know you don—“

“I know I don’t have to buy you shit, but you also know I love spoiling you sometimes. The dress will be in your closet when you get home,” he states, all bossy and confident and you feel the tingles in your tummy from this side of him. It’s not often he uses his dominance on you outside of the bedroom, but whenever he does, it’s always the right amount to make you weak for him.

He pushes away from the wall and walking behind you he presses a kiss to the back of your head before walking towards the door.

“I have a last minute meeting, but I will be here to pick you up at seven.” And with that he walks out.

You leave from work early to get ready for the evening. Luckily, your work is pretty flexible and it allows you to work your schedule around the social events Harry asks you out to every once in a while.

It’s not often, though. You never talked about it, but it’s like both of you knows it’s not your favorite way to spend time together. Truth is, you don’t quite fit into the circles Harry runs in. You’re not talking about his close friends, they are amazing, Sarah and Mitch are wonderful people and you’d jump to have a double date with them anytime for example. It’s the outer circle, the people Harry doesn’t necessarily consider his friends, but he makes his rounds with them every once in a while to keep up a somewhat positive relationship with them, because they are loosely also business connections and he needs them.

Tonight is one of these events, some kind of fancy rooftop party for whatever occasion where the men are smoking cigars and drink expensive bourbon while the women look good, sip on their cocktails and gossip for hours. It’s not quite your setting, but it’s not that painful every once in a while.

When you arrive home you quickly get ready, gather your hair in a sleek bun, touch up your makeup and then walk into your closet to find an elegant black dress hanging there, waiting for you to put it on.

Harry knows your taste well, it’s not over the top, but the open back and high slit brings just enough spice to the look. You pair it with the diamond earrings he got you for your latest anniversary and when you look in the mirror you feel like a boujie, quite hot version of yourself, just what you need for tonight.

At 6:57 Harry texts you.

HARRY: You ready? I’m waiting for you.

Y/N: Be there in a minute.

You slip on your heels, grab your purse and then make your way downstairs. As you’re walking across the hall you already see Harry standing by his car, waiting for you with a huge bouquet of flowers.

All wildflowers.

You’re all smiles when you step outside and approach him.

“You look amazing, baby,” he smiles as he gathers you in one arm, pulling you in for a kiss.

“Need to look fine for my man,” you chuckles, patting his chest and running your hands down the lapels of his chic suit.

“This is for you,” he hands you the bouquet and you can finally have a better look at the colorful flowers.

It’s been an ongoing thing between the two of you, Harry has never given you any roses. After your very first date he just knew you weren’t the kind who wants the expensive rose boxes women beg their partners for. You’re different, unique and he knew you appreciate the beauty in things others might consider not fitting. Wildflowers are not quite what women who are dating a millionaire want, but it’s definitely what brings you joy.

“It’s beautiful, thank you,” you smile up at him and steal another kiss before he opens the car door for you and helps you into the passenger seat.

The event is what you expected, what you always expect. You make your rounds with Harry, he keeps a hand on your waist at all times, always making sure you’re alright, you have something to drink and he keeps asking if you’re cold, but it’s a warm late summer evening, so he has nothing to worry about.

At one point you part ways, it’s how it always goes, the men gather and the women form their circle as well.

“I swear, I was ready to jump off that boat and swim to the shore!” Riah, one of the wives gestures wildly as she tells a story about their latest trip to Italy, making everyone laugh.

The boat here means their luxury yacht and the reason why she wanted to leave was because they ran out of her favorite champagne. Relatable, right?

“Anyway, it was nice, we’re going on another trip next month. Y/N, wouldn’t you and Harry want to come with us?” she asks, putting you into the spotlight.

“Oh, um… I can’t really just go on a vacation on such a short notice. We usually put in our days off about two months in advance.”

The looks you get are worth a million dollars, truly. There’s confusion, pity, they obviously don’t understand why you’re working when you have Harry. They are all typical trophy wives, they spend their days shopping, going to the spa, spending the money they didn’t earn.

You don’t judge them, everyone gets to live their life the way they want, but they do judge you and that’s what irks you.

“Ah, I see,” Riah forces a smile to her face. “Well, next time… let’s plan it out like a year ahead.”

You notice the edge in her words but choose not to call her out and just nod in agreement.

“Hey, want to grab another drink?” Noora suggests you, saving you from the conversation that flows to the upcoming Fashion Week, something you will probably no attend.

Noora is the only person you get along well in this circle. She is a lot like the other women, she doesn’t work and she is definitely kept by her husband, but she is not blatantly ignorant towards people who are different from her.

“Don’t listen to Riah, she’s been a bit mouthy since she found out her cousin’s wedding cost more than hers.”

You can’t help but smile at her comment as the two of you walk up to the bar.

“I don’t know why they are always so shocked by my answers, I’ve been around for a while now and they still don’t understand me.”

“Because they don’t want to. They are happy in their little bubble,” Noora shrugs. “Just let it go. It’s not worth getting upset, you’ll just have to get through these nights.”

Nodding you let her bring something else up to talk about, but as your gaze wanders over to Harry your thoughts continue to swirl around.

He used to go on these random vacations all the time, before he started dating you he ran in these circles a lot more often, you know for a fact he went sailing to Italy at least five times a year and those weren’t considered vacations, he spent months away in Thailand, Dubai and in all corners of Europe.

It’s not like you don’t travel. You do and you love it too, but you’re also working and it doesn’t let you take two weeks off every other month. You’ve had plenty of adventures together, but you planned them all ahead and you also insisted sharing at least part of the cost. Your job pays well, but not ‘spend a month cruising on a yacht on the Adriatic Sea’ well.

Is it possible Harry misses it? That he wants you to be like these women? Free and ready to get on a private jet anytime he wants to drink his morning coffee by the Eiffel Tower? Does he want you to be his trophy wife?

His sixth sense is on, his eyes find you as you’re drowning deep in your thoughts and he shoots you a soft smile, mouthing: “You alright?”

You force a smile on your face and just nod, but you know it didn’t convince him at all, however this is not the time and place to have this discussion.

As the night carries on you just keep adding to your list of things that could possibly be an inconvenience for Harry.

Your job, wanting to be somewhat financially independent, your lack of enthusiasm for the social conformities that women in these circles are held against…

Arriving back home the feeling just intensifies, looking around the penthouse you notice how much it has changed since you’ve moved in. Before it was all modern luxury, precisely decorated, something out of an interior design magazine.

Half of the furniture has been changes, there are second hand pieces, little nick-nacks all around the place, a lot more colors and a lot less modernity.

Walking into your closet you step out of your heels and pull off your dress when Harry appears.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks. He doesn’t question if there’s something to talk about, he knows there is, because he knows you so well.

You take a few moments to think about how to put it all into words. Grabbing a big shirt you pull it on before turning to face Harry.

“Do you… Do you want me to be your trophy wife?”

Pure confusion takes over his handsome face as his eyebrows shoot up.

“Explain this a bit more to me, baby,” he asks as he casually walks closer. You know he wants to touch you, pull you into his arms, but he wants to give you space to voice your thoughts, so he just gently runs his knuckles down the side of your face.

“Does it ever bother you that I’m not like those wives?”

“In what way do you think you should be like them?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“It’s just… We don’t go on random yacht cruises, our home has mismatched furniture because I didn’t want to get rid of some of my stuff, I’m not… I don’t stay home, I have a job that I don’t want to give up… Do you want me to be more like them?”

He finally understands what this is about.

Takin your hand he pulls you out of the closet and sits on the edge of the bed, tugging you until you’re sitting on his lap, your knees on either sides of him. His hands rest on your naked thigh, soothingly running up and down as he looks you in the eyes.

“Baby, all I want is you. The way you are. No changes.”

The first wave of relief washes over you and then he continues.

“Do I want to travel the world as much as possible? Of course, but I also love that you want to work and build your own career, I love how ambitious you are and I wouldn’t want you to give it up just so we can go on yacht cruises every weekend,” he chuckles softly. With a sheepish smile you place your hands to his chest, feeling the heat radiating through his dress shirt underneath your palms.

“I love our home, I love the mismatched furniture, it’s a piece of you merged into a piece of me. I don’t want you to stay at home. Or I do, but only if that’s what you want to do. I want you to be happy. Are you?”

“I am,” you nod without hesitation.

“Then I’m happy too. I love you and I do want you to be my wife. The trophy part? Not so much.”

Now it feels silly you even thought about all of this. Harry never gave you a reason to believe he wants something different, you shouldn’t have let yourself be fooled.

“I love you too,” you smile at him before leaning in to kiss his soft lips. “And I love our life,” you mumble after several kisses.

“I love it too. The wildflowers, the secondhand furniture, our fights every time I try to pay for something,” he grins at you, hi army caging you into his embrace as he pulls you tight against him. “I love every unique piece of you and of us.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

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