#shoes for heel spurs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

grugruel · 4 months

Text

The Artist and the Flower

Pairings: Benedict bridgerton x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Sexpollen

Masterlist

Summary: A mysterious flower brought back from Colin's travels put you and Benedict in a curious predicament. Resulting in sex and other things.

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: sexpollen, friends to lovers, passionate sex, pinv sex, oral sex (female recieving), rough sex (blink and you'll miss it), choking, praise, pet names (princess, girl, woman, lady.), "I love you", mating-press, missionary, creampie. (Think that's all)

AN: not yet proofread! Hope you guys enjoy!

Approaching footsteps roused my mind. They thudded dully against wooden floorboards–pausing only to whisper mutely, 'This is not funny. Where are you?'

I tried to focus on my breathing, fingers working sluggishly as they wiped themselves clean against the bottom hem of my dress.

'Woman!' The voice was shrill and urgent this time, ringing terribly in my ear. The sounds of it's accompanying steps diminished as they hurried past my position on the floor, all dizzy on my knees.

'Benedict!' I hissed. The bright interior blurring as I made to stand up, legs wobbly beneath the unsteady weight of my torso.

There was a muffled squeak through the wall, shoes whirling against polished wood. Indicating him turning on his heel. 'Most, esteemed woman?' He tried again, punctuating the words as he half joked, half not. Simply hopeful hollow flattery would spur me into giving further clues to my whereabouts.

'Get in here at once!' I threw my finger toward the floor, as if he could see me do it and I'd sucesfully conveyed the sense of urgency. But the world spun suddenly, and I staggered a few steps until I caught myself on the nearest wall. The window I'd opened wasn't doing much except chilling my damp skin with the occasional draft.

With a last few steps, he darted to the door that separating us and four quaint knocks rapped aginst it. I gritted my teeth, annoyance taking over the hand. 'Yes, come on in.' Still, I willed my voice into the least irritable tone I could muster. This was not his fault, after all.

'Ah–' he sighed and pushed the door open. '–godess. . .' There was a mocking tone to the word and a satisfied grin on his lips, but it quickly fell as his eyes scoured over my appearance and utter devastation replaced it.

I wiped my forehead free of the beading sweat, and it too, began to tingle just like my fingertips had–to my horror, I realised–I'd probably just added more of whatever that dust was into my system. Now seeping through my skin and diluting my blood, impairing my usually keen senses with whatever toxins it provided.

He hurried to my side in big, worried strides to lay and arm around my back, steadying me when I couldn't steady myself. 'Wha-' He couldn't even form a word of surprise, his jaw slack as he gestured with his free hand to my dishevelled appearance. 'Why are you in Colins room? In this, state?' He quickly added. If I wasn't mistaken, which I might very well have been considering I didn't have full use of my mind. But, I could almost detect jealousy in his tone.

He would get the wrong idea, about Colin. 'Well,' I tried being nonchalant, tried to act like the places he made contact with my skin did not burn for him. I screwed my eyes shut and pulled all my focus into an answer. 'The wine got to my head, and I realised,' My words came out sluthered and slow. 'I hadn't been in here before, and. . .' My head began nodding of its own accord, already finding my unsaid words agreeable. '. . .it had to be remedied.'

'Of course, of course it did.' Benedict sighed, his shoulders shrugging in exasperation as he began looking around, presumably to find something for me to sit on, but his eyes fastened on something else instead. I cringed, for his eyes darted from the open rucksack, then back to me. The look he gave me was nothing but disapproving. But goodness, he was stading so close. His breaths warm against my cheek and mildly stained by alcoholic bevrages, much like mine must've been. But oh, the fire in his eyes gave me quite a start, not that I was fearful of it. In fact, I found the opposite to be true. It almost felt as if I had abaorbed it, and it traveled downward. . . 'You went through his belongings?'

My mind froze, the newfound aching in my body too distracting. 'I. . .' I felt my eyes narrow and forehead furrow, my dull reflexes attempting a poor pretence of thoughts. 'I couldn't help myself. I'm sorry. But there was this box, with some strange flower inside. . .' I trailed off. An amused, tipsy smile making it's way onto my face as I noted his incredulous expression.

His hands slid down my arm, and the sensation traveled straight to my core. Causing the need to stifle a moan arise.

'And you thought it a good idea to touch a foreign plant of which you know nothing of?' He spoke fast, too fast for me to keep up. Especially when goosebumps ran rampid in the wake of his touch, when my core ached for him to continue, to push his body further into mine. My heart beat too fast, his hand too close to the pulse point on my wrist.

My hand found it's way beneath his jaw, a wide grin splaying across my face. 'Wine will do that to a gentlewoman.' I explained, sluthering slightly. But feeling no more explanation to be necessary.

He screwed his eyes shut and stood completley still for a moment, I could almost see the thoughts swirling in the crammed space of his mind. 'Well,' he looked at me once again, searching my eyes. 'What gentleman would I be to leave a woman in need to her own devices?' He opened the box and grabbed the flower without hesitation, feeling its vevelty petals, rubbing the dust between his fingertips and then- tasted it.

Currents of static electricity zapped beneath my chest, spreading throughout me body. Everything happened so fast. And all I could do was watch, very intently, as the pads of his middle- and index finger made contact with his tongue, swiping clean against it. Lips then closing around them to suck whatever remained off. The heat building in my body was nothing short of sinful, and the thoughts–my thoughts–were even worse.

'Let's go.'

'Pardon?' Precious air left my lungs, leaving me breathless.

'Dinner with the Bridgertons.'

'I figured it to be out of the question.' My expression confounded.

'Colin is already downstairs, and we must find out what exactly that plant is-' He stopped. Eyes all of a sudden distant as they grazed over my features, landing on my lips. He still held my wrist, stroking the inside with gentle circles.

'Ben?' It was summer in the country, this much I knew. But surely, the temperature could not rise as fast as it just did. Sweat was pooling at my back, beneath my bust. And I began to wish, that he would simply. . . Lick-

'We must go.' I declared, clearing my throat. Hoping the words would snap us out of our trance.

'Right, of course.' He nodded, a blush sweeping across his cheeks. His eyes suddenly keen to examine the floor. But he kept his han his hand on the small of my back, urging me down the halls of the big house. Ocassionally, he'd scrunch the fabric of my dress, feeling the flexing of my back beneath the tips of his fingers. It pulled my attention to the sensitivity of my skin, and the pleasure his small, simple action gave me.

The next thing I knew, I was being helped into a chair at the center of the dining table. Benedict laid a hand on my shoulder that was meant to be reassuring, but it had an impact much more wicked on me. He took the seat across from me, and oh so conveniently placed himself next to Colin. Conversation grew heavy as Violet became quite inquisitive with her children. Eloise's debut, Anthony's proposal plans, and who he was planning on the recieving end. I would usually have been elbow deep in the gossip and drama, but my mind was elsewhere, muddled or perhaps tainted, as I couldn't focus on much of anything. Their voices grew sharp in my ears, the candlelight too bright for my eyes.

Ben leaned in to whisper in Colin's ear, who's eyes grew wide. Looking at me with growing worry, in fact, he almost looked like he would be sick.

I could understand why. Slouched in my seat, looking generally ill and doing more drinking than eating. Which was most likely only adding to the growing problem rather than subduing it. But oh, was he handsome. Flushed, he combed a hand through his hair. Slicking it with the dampness from his forehead, his eyes darting over my figure every now and then. Whatever that flower was, it seemed to be getting to him too. Colin opened his mouth to answer Ben.

'How are you dear, you look a little I'll.' Violet asked with genuine worry, interrupting the boys hushed conversation and turned them onto me with anxious eyes.

'I'm well.' I smiled, feeling as though my own voice was not mine.

Ben's eyes creased, a grin spreading over his lips, and then began giggling.

The conversations cut, and everyone stared at him. 'Are you quite alright, dear?' Violets eyes were full of concern, now placed upon him instead. I didn't yet know if it was warranted or not. But I was glad he pulled any lingering eyes from my current state.

'I apologise.' The words were strained as he pushed them out between more fluttering giggles, leading him to cover his blushing face. 'Her lady just told me something stunningly funny, that is all.' Benedict gestured to me, his eyes glinting with mischief. That little-

'Truly?' Violet smiled expectantly, something like understanding in her eyes. That cunning look she always gave her children when she knew something they didn't. Perhaps she'd taken my demeanour as that of a girl with a hidden crush, only anxious under the gaze of her love. She wouldn't be entirely wrong. Long had I known the Bridgertons, and even longer had I liked Ben.

I cleared my throat, blinking away the haze in my eyes. 'I'm uncertain of its propriety. . .' I tried to redirect, a drop of sweat sliding down my temple as I nervously glanced around at the members of the family. And ufortunately, I felt a bubbling up inside my chest, a composition of my own laughter. 'It was, uhm. . .' I paused, working hard to keep a smile from creeping onto my lips. Trying desperate to think of something to say. Anything, really.

'Well, let's hear it.' Anthony said with a grin, and the rest of the table agreed. Eloise being little more than a heap of snickers, Colin seeming to be the only one who gained little to no amusement from the situation.

Watching my struggles and deeming them incredibly funny, Benedicts giggles evovled and he burst out laughing. I was second behind him, but the table quickly joined in with a chorus of incredulous chuckles and wild looks of incomprehension. 'What is the matter with you two?' Eloise asked, her eyes watery as she clutched stomache.

We locked eyes, Ben and I. Both now scorching, judging from the trickling sweat on his neck and the tickling down my back. Warmth spread throughout my chest, and something fluttered in my stumache. Something was terribly wrong with the flower for me to feel so deeply, so suddenly.

Colin took his chance when Benedict had calmed himself, leaning in to whisper in his ear. Ben's face offered an array of reactions ti every word spoken. Confusion, surprise, anger. It was enough for me to conclude that something was not right, and that was when his eyes went wide. 'Then why would you not keep a lock on it, brother?' He shouted, his voice much louder than anticipated. Worry grew in me as I carefully studied their expressions, replacing all my previous feelings of joy. Colin whispered again, his lips moving eratically as he shook his head, clearly distressed and displeased. Ben's eyes locked on mine a second time, again, they were full of fire. However, something told me it was not of the same sort I'd seen earlier today, this was not anger. No, it was something else entierly. 'Pardon us, drar family. But the lady and I must be excused.' He claimed suddenly, turning to his mother and Anthony. 'We have urgent business that need tending to.'

'–my parents estate. . .' I cut in, sensing the graveness behind his words. It cant be good if his mood had changed so quickly. The family gave me an odd look, and I scrambled further, not wishing for them to get the wrong impression. 'The art- the art in their estate. We had a Lively discussion before dinner. . . Hence the art. Because he's an artist.' I paused my rambling lips, they did me more bad than good. I stood hastily, the rich pulsing around me as I did so, almost knocking the chair to the floor. I smoothed my dress out and exited the diningroom with an "excuse me" and a unecessary curtsy.

Rushing down hallways, I brushed my hand along the wall for support. Benedict's footsteps only a pace behind my own. He placed a hand on my hip, to brace me or simply because he wanted to fell me, I did not know.

Stopping outside my rooms, I urged him to explain. 'Apparently,' he began, rubbing the nape of his neck. I knew that tell. 'It's not, good news. . .'

I leaned back against the doorframe, my body drenched in sweat. The wafting of my fan doing nothing to help. 'Benedict Bridgerton, tell me immediately.' I growled.

'Its an aphrodesiac. It means-'

I expelled a strained breath. 'I know what it means, Ben. Continue.' The air blew against the exposed skin of of my chest, cooking it effectively.

Benedict hesitated, none of this was proper. Yet, his eyes lingered on the growing goosebumps over my breasts. His gaze sliding to my throat, watching it bob as I swallowed a big breath of air. 'We are friends Ben, discussing such things educationally does not betray social rules.' I tried to convince us both.

He nodded absentmindedly, his eyes snapping back to mine with a newfound reverence. He himself staggering as his balance perception had been knocked down a peg. It was really starting to get to him, so I grabbed his jacket to steady him. 'Its pollen is poisonous in large amounts, If consumed and left untreated, lethal.'

I swallowed again, the world spinning as my mind fumbled his words, turning them over and over in my head. 'Considering the side-effects,' I gestured with the fan between the two of us. 'I gather we have large amounts in our blood.'

To this he nodded, the uncertainty in his eyes replaced with a wicked smile spreading across his lips. 'Clever girl.'

His praise felt like a punch to the gut. Although not knocing the air out of me, it did leave me in pain. 'And how do we cure it?' I tried to distract myself, my breathing was growing uneven, my thoughts a haze. And Benedict Bridgerton, looking more and more like something I'd like to devour.

His hand braced against the doorframe above my head ti stabilise him, his tall frame nkw looming over me, our faces stopping only a few inches appart. 'By working it out of our systems, by executing certain activities,' he murmured, studying me under hodded eyes and parted lips. 'The burning needs to be sated. If not, it will develop into fever, the throat will close and-'

'Alright, that's quite enough.' I gestured for him to stop. My lip trembling, my body burning as I looked at him through my lashes. 'What exactly are these activities?' I had a feeling, a hunch, where this was going.

'You must forgive my crudeness.' He took my hands in his free one, managing to wrap his considerably larger one around both of mine. 'By love making.' He was even closer now, his nose touching my cheekbone as he whispered in my ear. 'Sex.' His breaths were ragged, on edge. His tongue darting out to wet his lips. He stopped himself, closing his eyes. His forehead lulling against mine. Most likely taming himself jusy like I had to, trying not to think of the multiple worst case scenarios.

'We cannot stay out here, somebody will see us.' I warned, my nose rubbing against his. My body so taunt, tense, it needed desperate release. My spine was still recovering from that word. It had shaped a ball of anticipation in the pit of my stumache. It could ruin me, my prospects. I only just debuted. But- sex. . . That was all I wanted in this moment, and I wanted it with this man.

I looked him in the eyes and opened the door to my bedchamber. 'I love a tragedy, an epic story of true love ending in death.' I whispered, moving my hands around his. 'But we are not lovers.' Taking a few steps back, I led him inside. 'So, lets make this count.' He followed me willingly, his eyes loyal and round like a puppy's as he gazed at me with adoration. And the door fell shut behind him.

'What if we were?' His voice was low and burdened with lust. One hand coming to stroke a few strands of hair from my cheek.

I blinked, barely comprehending his touch. 'We shall not perish, Benedict. I refuse.'

'No, but we could love.'

'What?' My brows furrowed.

'Perhaps, you could find it in your heart to love me, as I have always loved you.' He paused. The next words were heavy as they hung from the tip of his tounge. 'Let me make love to you.' His voice vibrating from the strain of on his chest. He took a step closer, his chest pressing flush against mine. 'Let me teach you.' His voice was pleading, and I had to crane my neck to keep his eye contact. 'Marry me. . .' His hands cupped my face. '. . .marry me.' he leaned in, whispering the words against my lips.

I nodded slowly. 'Teach me.' And our lips clashed together.

Years worth of structural limitations evaporated, society and politics a thing of the past as Benedict raised my skirt, found purchase under my thighs and pulled me into his embrace. His skilled tongue finding its way into my mouth with ease.

He walked us backward, gently laying me down on my bed despite the urgency of our lust. 'What do you need?' He asked through muffled moans, his lips busy with mine. I could not think, nothing about my being would work with me. 'Talk to me, what do you need?' He breathed, voice almost a whimper as his hands squeezed my hips, urging me to answer.

'You,' I managed. 'I need you.' I could feel him smile against my lips.

'Do you trust me, love?'

'Always.'

He pushed off me, hooked his hands under my knees and pulled me to the edge of the bed.

Then kneeled.

Benedict, the man that he is, stood on his knees before me. Between my legs, he smiled a wicked smile. My body was limp in his touch, completely at his disposal. The aching cravings of my core did not care what he did, as long as it was he who did it.

His hands dove under the hem of my skirt, tracing my legs upward, hitching the fabric on his wrists. He stopped above my knees, kneeding them thoughtfully as his eyes searched mine. It took my mind a second to wrap around his request, it was already so painfully clear to me that I would agree at any given moment of our time together that I could not fathom him wanting further confirmation. 'Yes. . . Please.'

He wasted no time. He was hungry. He flipped the skirt over my abdomen and got to work. Immidietly lowering himself onto my mound, lipping a stripe from my core to my clit and he moaned.

A shuddering whimper left me, if it was from his reaction or the sensation of his tongue I would never know. Proudly, he wrapped his lips around me clit and vegan sucking, licking and nipping. It was unlike anything I'd ever felt before, my fingers could never compete with his expertise. My body wriggled involuntairly, compelling him to hold my hips down with one hand, and taking it as a sign to slide the other along the inside of my thigh and burry a finger inside me, pumling it in an out.

I cried out, covering my mouth as my free hand dove into his hair. Pulling and scratching, I urged him to continue. But somewhere inside me, worry built. What about him? My eyes glanced over the still beading sweat on his forehead, afraid it might be the fever Ben had spoken of. 'What about you?' I whimpered, stroking his hair in a gentler fashion as he continued his contrasting assault on my mound.

'What about me?' He moaned, voice muffled by my skin and shrugged, sliding another finger inside me. His eyes studying my reaction, the way my body moved. I cried out again, biting my lip this time to stifle it as my other hand entwined with the one he held at my hip.

'Is it enough for you?' The words were expelled on an exhale, my voice pitched from continously pleasure, but beneath there was worry. And he noticed.

He chuckled breathely against my clit. 'I do not care about me.' His eyes met mine, and a strike of lighting shot through me, a whimper escaping me with furrowed brows. And he continued with a groan. 'Giving you pleasure is all I need.' And added a third finger, curling them inside me. Their size was admirable, especially as they hit some special spot inside me.

My back arched and a tidal wave of pleasure rolled over me, the pressure that'd been builing in my stumache finally released.

He watched me intently. 'Let me hear you.' He requested, continuing to move his fingers as he helped me through my orgasm, palming himself through his pants with his free hand. I obliged him. A string of curses unbefitting of a lady left my lips in whimpers.

'It takes talent to make such vulgar words sound pretty.' He licked another stripe along my folds, gathering my orgasm on his tongue and swallowed greedily. A strained grunt left him, and he collapsed into my lap, a shiver running through his body. My hand left his to brace myself on my forearm, gathering a better view of him as I combed my hand through his hair soothingly, and that's when I noticed the wet spot on his pants. I gasped. 'It was truly enough for you?' I ovserved him in awe, the aching beginning to roar inside me yet again.

'I told you,' He panted, sucking his fingers clean between his attempts to catch his breath and tilted his head to look up at me. Such a sinful act embedded so innocently. 'You are enough for me, pretty girl.' Now it was not only mor core which ached, but my heart also. Still on his knees, he let himself regenerate in my lap whilst his adoring eyes romaed my face. A show of devotion, of resignation, of love.

I moved to sit, his head still in my lap as he circled his arms around my waist, gaze still locked on mine. 'I love you.' I whispered, brushing the damp hair from his forehead.

His eyes softened impossibly more. 'I've always, always been in love with you. Since the first week of our meeting.'

My chest ached. 'Why have you never told me so?'

'Throwing our friendship away based on chance was not odds I was willing to risk.' He hugged me tighter, then stood up. 'But im afraid, that were not out of the woods yet.' He said, un buttoning his shirt and pants. 'Im feeling quite feverish.' His eyes glistened with mischief, and let the coat fall from his shoulders.

'If you want me again, you need only say so.' I smiled, now it was my time to look up at him with loving eyes.

'I want you again.' He removed his shirt, and I hade to collect my breath for a second. 'Stand, my love. We will do this properly.' He took my hands and helped me to my feet, turned me around and undid my dress and corset. Again, It made me realise just how much experience he had.

When I stood in only my chemise, feeling naked and vunerable. He stood in only his breeches. Nothing my nervous state, he said. 'We can leave it on, love.' Searching my eyes.

But I shook my head, if I was to have all of him, he was to have all of me. 'Please.' I whispered, motioning for him to take it off me. And he did, it slid down my body easily. Gradually exposing every inch of skin only me and most likely my maids had seen.

He stood struck for a moment, unmoving, unspeaking. Until- 'I do not deserve you.' He awed, 'Beautiful, beautiful woman.' Reaching his hand out to stroke my biceps, my abdomen, eyes searching mine before they traveled further up.

'You do, if any man ever was to. It would be you.' I promised him, and at this he blushed. I grabbed his hand and laid it atop my breast. With a groan, he stepped closer. His free hand cupping my face as the other massaged my breast, and his lips met mine. Softly, his hand slid around my back, guiding me back knto the bed, laying me carefully down on the pillows. 'Princess.' He breathed, sat back and removed his breeches. I did not have time to fawn over his size until he was on me again. Hooking my leg on his knee, he spread it wide. Bracing on a forearm, his face was inches from mine as he lowers himself on top of me. His thick length grazing my clit. Sensitive and burning, still–I noticed. The polled had yet to leave our system, perhaps it deadliness had subdued, but it's symptoms were yet in full effect.

Benedict nuzzled my cheek. 'Tell me what you want.' He whispered in my ear.

'You, all of you.'

'Be more specific, dearest.'

I swallowed, my breathing growing heavier. 'Sex.' I murmured, and his lips formed a smiled against my jaw. 'I want sex.'

'I would want nothing more than to give it to you.' He breathed, and lined himself up with my entrance. Then pushed himself in, gently, but consistently. My whimpered only spurring him on, not stopping until he reached the hilt. He'd done his job well, since I easily adjusted around him. 'Good girl.' He whispered, tracing kisses from my lips to my neck. 'Taking me so well.'

I ached, arching my back, I needed more. My skin was growing more and more sensitive. 'Please, Ben. . .'

That was all he needed to hear. He pulled out and thrusted into me again, moving my entire body with each stroke and it was like nothing I've ever felt before. 'Holy-' I interrupted myself with a moan.

He chuckled, but truthfully it was more of a moan. 'Feel so good.' He murmured against my skin, kissing the tender spot between my shoulder and throat. 'Like I imagined.'

Pause. He's thought of me? In this way? With. . . women, by himself?

'When, tell me when.'

'Always. I thinn of you when I lay with other women, I think of you when I touch myself.' His hand ran down my body, squeezing my breast as he drove himself deeper. And I had to wonder–were those acts specific details of his dreams, desires? 'You occupy my mind, always.' He said quite breathlessly.

'Show me, show me how you want me.'

He pulled out if me, hooked my legs over his shoulders and thrusted back in. Every rut of his hips hitting that sweet spot inside me, wrecking me over and over again. Strained breaths against my throat became the outcome of his efforts, as the power behind each thrust pushed me deeper into the mattress. 'What else, show me what else. I'm yours.' I moaned.

His lips found mine, and his hand my throat. Gently, he enveloped it. Softly, he squeezed. 'Say it again.' His lips murmured against mine, kissing them between every breath he labored.

'I'm yours.' I whispered, and he groaned. A particularly forcefull thrust was made into me. He was never rough in anything he did, but he put his back into it. Always the gentleman, never the brute. I've never been happier for a man to be so contrasting.

The burning, the aching, the pressure. It was all towering, waiting to be pushed over at any second. 'Mine,' he moaned. 'My love.' His pace quickened and ruts hardened. He was as close as I was. 'I love you. . .' He whimpered and spilled himself inside of me. And I came a second later, irregular thrusts carrying me through my blinding orgasm. 'I love you.' He told me over and over again as he let my legs fall to his sides, and collapsed onto my smaller figure. With his head on my chest, I held him. 'I love you too.'

'Marry me, then.'

'Give me a ring, then.' I giggled. He made to stand up, to slither out of my embrace. 'Not now!'

'Tomorrow, then?' He laid back down, this time wrapping his arms around me and pulled me close.

'Tomorrow, then.' I confirmed. Id never been so happy as in that moment.

#benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton smut #bridgerton smut #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagine

3K notes · View notes

onlyswan · 11 months

Text

summary: in which jungkook is one of your greatest fears and you’re his achilles’ heel.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff, angst / word count: 4.1k

content/warnings: i love you i want us both to eat well T_T sigh. oc has abandonment issues pls protect at all costs + oc is worried bc jk is working so hard :( + a worm (???) cameo. ily protective and hopeless romantic iw!jk <3 the ending 🥲💔 this drabble literally goes 📈📉

> in which masterlist!

note: *insert my melody mugshot scene* me if planting puzzle pieces in my drabbles + making oc cry (IM SORRY) were a crime. this was sm fun writing <3 i cried and laughed they’re so precious </3

—

“jungkook, baby?”

your silky voice fills the quiet apartment as you pad across the floor. you’re carrying your heeled mary janes by its straps, leaving you only in your white socks.

“babe?”

you frown as the seconds pass and you receive no response from your lover. there’s no music playing, no rustling somewhere in the kitchen or the living room. the lights are dim like they usually are, but the vivid colors are absent.

him? asleep at 9pm? jeon jungkook? it can’t be, but you’d be delighted to finally see him resting early if it was real.

and so, spurred by that tiny glimmer of hope, you carefully crack the bedroom door open, as if you’re fifteen again and you just came back from sneaking out of the house.

but you’re grown now; you live in a building with complete strangers for neighbors. you just got home from work, and you’re no longer used to sleeping alone because you share the bed with another person.

you find it empty. devoid of any creases, sign of life. as neat as a hotel room’s make believe that no one lived there until two hours prior.

the disappointment weighs down on your shoulders, causing them to drop.

he didn’t tell you he was going somewhere else after practice, you think to yourself as your lips permanently shape into a pout. what happened to going out with you for dinner?

agreeing, your empty stomach grumbles angrily.

maybe he got caught up at work. maybe he’s on his way home. maybe he’s on his way to the restaurant and he’s about to text you to come over. maybe he forgot about your plans and he’s having dinner with somebody else.

whatever the reason is, you’re too lazy and tired to whip up something edible on your own. with or without him, you’re going out and you’re stuffing your mouth full with rice and meat. after all, autumn is here, your dear old friend.

in search for a coat that will accompany you in your late-night stroll, you enter the walk-in closet and flip on the lightswitch.

you can count them with just your fingers— the amount of times you’ve felt this type of fear. absent eyes, melting spine, chills running to the top of your head down to your fingertips, mind racing with an overload of thoughts (it appears as a blank page, the same way that white is the presence of all colors of visible light). this fear… you associate it with impulsive mistakes, fire, police and ambulance sirens, and… empty closets.

jungkook’s side of the closet is empty.

clothes. shoes. bucket hats. beanies. belts. everything. gone.

but the floor is scattered with random pieces of clothing that look like they accidentally fell while someone was in a rush to pack them all in a bag. so in a rush that they didn’t even bother to pick them up.

your weak knees almost give way, but you force yourself to stumble backwards until your back hits the doorframe— you refuse to let yourself look like you’ve been carelessly discarded too.

not again. not again. not this goddamn vicious curse you thought you’ve already broken out of. not. again.

you blink away the tears threatening to spill as you scramble to open the zipper of your bag, but they spill anyway when your shoes clatter to the floor. you flinch at the thunderous sound, clutching your phone tightly against your chest. you keep your eyes closed throughout the defeaning silence that comes after.

the empty space mocks you. it knows your intricate design was not meant to live in an empty home.

you guess nothing much has changed. you’re still afraid of jungkook and his power to take away the sun, just as he did before, and you deeply despise being afraid. you don’t like it when the walls are closing in on you, poisoning your mind into believing that you’re small when the heart inside your chest burns with a fire brighter than that of the damn sun.

anyone would be foolish to leave you; it’s only jungkook who could have you mourning the death of the garden you’ve given the past five years of your life to.

—

jungkook returns to the apartment half an hour later. despite the long, grueling hours of dance practice he nearly didn’t survive, the excitement vibrating through his body is manifested through the lightness of his movements. he’s finally seeing his lover for the first time today… awake.

when he brought his natural body warmth along with him to the bathroom this morning, you sunk yourself further into mattress, beneath the thick blankets and against the soft pillows. by the time he had to give you your obligatory goodbye kiss before he leaves for work (or else you’d sulk about it for the rest of the week), half of your face has been hidden from sight. he was only able to press a loving kiss on your forehead, and then your eyelids that were fluttering as you dreamt.

night time comes and he is still deprived of the sight of your beautiful face? he somberly wonders as he finds you slumped over the dining table; he swears that there is a dark rain cloud hovering above you. your arms are thrown over the hardwood as they serve as a makeshift pillow for your vessel— his little firefly curiously bleak.

“baby? are you sick?” he asks, voice dripping with concern as he tenderly rubs your back.

the legs of the chair screeches against the tiled floor, neglectedly pushed behind.

“kook?” you manage to choke out, frantically sitting up once your muddled brain registered the familiarity of his touch on your bare skin.

his heart drops to his stomach as your tear-stained face comes into view. this isn’t how he envisioned your greeting; it usually came in the form of a bright light not harsh as the sunlight, a softness that begs to be held.

“are you crying?!”

your reply only comes out as a pitiful whimper. he stumbles a step backwards when you unceremoniously jump into his embrace, wrapping your arms over his shoulders. he gets a whiff of your sweet perfume, and then it becomes the air that he breathes, but he doesn’t have much time to revel in it.

“baby!”

he squeezes your waist taut against his body, affectionately nosing at your cheek before giving you a kiss. “did something happen? tell me- tell me.”

“jungkook,” your voice cracks as you utter his name, sounding almost like a plea, and then an endless string of heartbreaking sobs comes out muffled against his shirt. “where have you been?”

this sends him into a state of panic. seeing you in pain— it’s his biggest weakness. after all, you are his achilles’ heel.

“why? why, why, why?” you’re weak and pliant as he pulls your arms down, collapsing against his chest when he envelopes you in his embrace. he cradles your head in his palm, soothing you with gentle pats and shushes. “shh, shhh- it’s okay, i’m here now. everything’s okay, you hear me?”

his efforts prove to be fruitless, because you only seem to cry harder as he slowly rocks your bodies back and forth.

you shake your head, hands attempting to hold on to the back of his shirt to regain sensation in your limbs, but they miserably fail and fall on the sides of his hips.

“talk to me… please, mhmm?“ he hums quietly, pressing his soft lips to your temple. “tell me what’s wrong and your boyfriend will take care of it.”

from your sniffles to your hiccups, you remain unable to form any coherent response, and it leads his imagination to construct the worst possible scenarios. he feels his stomach turn with uneasiness, jaw clenching as he carefully pulls away to meet you eye-to-eye.

“did someone touch you? hurt you?” he spits out with urgency, and the unparalleled care he displays puts you in a daze, simply dumbfounded as he strokes your face. “huh, baby? just tell me and i’ll take care of the rest.”

now that you’re being reminded that jungkook could quite literally kill a person with his bare hands if they ever inflict harm on you, the fog is clearing up and you feel so incredibly… stupid.

but that’s more the reason why it’s difficult not to be sensitive when it comes to him; his absence proves to be lethal.

“shit, you’re scaring me.” he breathes out shakily as he taps your cheek lightly to bring you back to him, the distant look in your eyes triggering the emergency alarms in his head.

he unconsciously licks his lips and he tastes your tears; he doesn’t want anybody else to ever come this close.

“okay, okay- let’s put that aside for now. what do you need? should we go to bed and rest instead?”

“i thought you left,” you whisper as you hang your head in shame.

he blinks at you in confusion. “to where? my flight isn’t until next week, baby.”

fantastic! now you sound like the most dramatic, clingiest bitch to ever grace the planet. you bury your face in your hands to hide the battle zone between your heart and mind, but your boyfriend seizes your wrists because he can’t bear another second of it.

“is-is that why you’re upset…?” he asks with not a trace of malice or ridicule. he is only filled with guilt as it dawns on him then— how you’ve only gotten used to always having him around four years into your relationship, when he was taking a break from work.

the changes in his life are also changes in yours, but they still affect you in many different ways.

“then just come with me. i’ll make it work. maybe we can extend for a bit, spend an entire day by ourselves- there’s a lot of museu-”

“i thought you left,” you repeat yourself, exposed and vulnerable, vision swallowed by the darkness because you can’t make yourself look at him. “your clothes… they’re gone, and i was calling but you… you weren’t answering my calls so i thought…”

“my clothes?” he exclaims, eyes going wide as he realizes that they’ve accidentally slipped from his mind. “ahh, i thought about cleaning the closet while waiting for you so i moved everything to the other room!”

you open your mouth to speak, but much to your chagrin, no words come out. you purse your lips as your chin wobbles— the new wave of tears in your eyes mimic shiny crystals.

“____!”

and at the stern mention of your name, you know that you’re about to receive a (loving) scolding from your boyfriend. your lips curve into a frown before a sob inevitably escapes past them.

“why would you think that? why would i leave you? that doesn’t make sense at all, does it…?”

you shake your head, hugging him so tight, possibly tighter than you’ve ever done before. between your bodies, his heart is being unbearably wrung.

“i’m sorry, baby. seeing you cry like this breaks my heart…” he closes his eyes with a heavy sigh, resting his cheek on the side of your head. “but why would that be the first thing you think of…? i must be doing something wrong, right? have i been too busy with work? am i neglecting you?”

you’re breathless, a little dizzy— bloodshot eyes meeting his that are now gleaming with sadness. “no, it’s not like that! i just panicked, i couldn’t think straight.”

“are you sure?”

he looks at you skeptically, scanning your face.

“baby-” his voice breaks, then he pauses with his gaze still trained on you. “okay, i’m sorry. i… should’ve thought about what cleaning the closet would look like.”

“i was just being stupid.” you give him a small smile, rubbing your eyes to chase away the burning sensation. “sorry for scaring you.”

“stop, you’ll hurt yourself.” he tuts, pushing your wrists aside to cup your face in his hands, much gentler in comparison to your own self. his thumbs draw shapes on your soft skin, and then out of the blue, he curiously squeezes one of the space buns on top of your head. “wow, this is so pretty?”

“huh…? oh, thanks.” you mumble, still feeling out of it.

“this, too.” the white silk ribbon wrapped prettily around your neck, he means, which he hooks a finger on to tug lightly. it matches the lace straps on your shoulders that falls across the underbust of your dress, tied together to form a ribbon in the middle of it. that makes two, so clasically you.

and while it may be partly true that he’s trying to lighten the atmosphere, he just can’t defy the urge to express his admiration for you, even in a situation like this. he’s perpetually love-drunk.

“thank you.” you nod, shyly looking away to sniffle. “but you’re the reason why my makeup is ruined… need to wash it off before we go.”

“you’re beautiful either way, baby.”

“i know.” you scoff. “would you date me for five years if i wasn’t?”

he releases a throaty chuckle, capturing your lips in his with a smile of endearment that he fails to subdue.

“you’re so fucking cute. i love you-” he says with merely an inch of distance between you.

he grunts in melodramatic anguish, overcome by the insensity of his affections overflowing past the brim of his very being, leaning so close that the edge of the table digs into your lower back, surely to leave a temporary mark.

and he carries on to kiss you so many times that you lose count; you can only melt as you collect them in that bottomless pocket located somewhere in your soul, where all the love you’ve received across lifetimes is recorded to prove i was once here.

“i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you. i’m never leaving. you’re stuck with me and bam forever.”

if the time comes that the two of you break up, who would bam come home to? jungkook stubbornly refuses to have that conversation.

however, you still can’t let go of something, and you pout as you shove him lightly. unsurprisingly, his strong build doesn’t budge at all.

“but why didn’t you answer my calls?” at last, you gain enough energy to complain, but your face grows hot as the urge to cry returns. “i mean, what else was i supposed to think?!”

jungkook is struck by yet another lightning.

may the heavens have mercy, he’s been making you angry more than usual lately.

“shit, i forgot. i turned off my phone.” he mutters under his breath, feeling extremely regretful that he was not reachable when you needed him most to be. “i wanted to focus only on you tonight. what do they call it again…? leaving work at work?”

he winces guiltily.

“i’m sorry. maybe it wasn’t a smart idea.”

“no, i like that.” you almost interrupt him from talking because of how fast you are to brush off his apology.

he makes a mental note of it— the way you’re gripping at his shirt in small fists. you’re tense and overwhelmed; you need him to stay close.

“leave work at work. focus on me, and let me be your rest.”

unbeknownst to you, jungkook bites back his tears then. after all this time, he still gets mesmerized by the tenderness that naturally governs your every word and action; he thinks that he needs you more than you need him.

—

“just eat, baby. i’ll cook the meat for us.” jungkook coos at you as he cuts more meat into bite-sized pieces using a pair of kitchen shears.

“okay, then i’ll make sure that you eat.” you grin excitedly, dragging your chair closer to his.

you set down the tongs, grabbing your chopsticks to pick up a cooked piece of pork belly from the grill. you don’t forget to blow on it, mindful of burning his tongue.

of course, you don’t want to hurt him, but it would be especially painful for him as a singer.

“ahhh-” still busy with cooking, jungkook opens wide at your cue, catching the meat in between his teeth.

“rice,” he demands as he chews.

you scoop up rice from your bowl, and he devours it happily as he continues to flip the strips of pork belly lined up across the grill.

“mmhmm, it’s so delicious!” he dramatically says out loud. his eyebrows are knitted together and his legs are bouncing under the table, tell-tale signs of him enjoying the food.

witnessing this kind of reaction, any chef would be happy to slave away in the kitchen to serve him a meal. you recognize it in the smile of the owner after jungkook ordered more side dishes, and the way he dashed through the door to reduce the waiting time.

“yah, feed yourself, too!” jungkook chides you after you feed him meat three times in a row, but with an open palm that catches the juice that drips from the kimchi, you still tap your chopsticks against his lips. he spares it a glance before catching it using his tongue.

“i am!” you then rush to wrap a piece of pork belly in lettuce, dipping it into ssamjang before stuffing it into your mouth.

“good job, baby.” he grins in satisfaction, rubbing your back as praise. this makes you preen. “make sure to eat lots, got it?”

but then you’re back to spoiling him rotten, this time with an egg roll. so far, he has only touched his own chopsticks twice.

“i just told you to eat first!”

you glare at him, pouting. “but you worked so hard practicing today and you haven’t even eaten properly yet.”

he is too busy with work, and it’s not news that you’ve been worried sick about his health. it’s difficult to watch him work himself to the bone, but no one truly has the power to stop jungkook from doing what he wants, sometimes not even himself. and you find it impossible to fault him for it when you know that everything he does is done out of love. from the vigorous vocal and dance lessons, and to the deep cleaning of the apartment because his baby has been developing an allergy to dust.

“you need to make it up to your body. here, please?”

he loves being loved, jungkook thinks to himself as he eats the egg roll whole.

—

you were already prepared to go home after dinner, but your night owl for a boyfriend insisted on going on a walk at the park because he wanted to, and you quote, ‘see you awake for a little while longer,’ or whatever the hell he meant by that.

with his tattooed arm protectively swung over your shoulder, you’re engulfed in a wave of nostalgia. for the first two years of your relationship, before you started living together, you only met with each other at night, save for the very rare day-offs that he got. the only places that are still open after midnight are nightclubs, fastfood chains, convenience stores… and well, parks.

and he would always hold you close like this to make you feel safe, and the rest of you melts away while the side of your ribcage that he is pressed against remains to shelter your heart. on the contrary, you also remember how your bodies used to be so tense. you wanted to sacrifice more sleep and to walk to the other side of the park, of the street, to that other convenience store five blocks away because this one didn’t have the flavor of ice cream you wanted, anything… just… anything so you could be with each other ten minutes more.

and it was cold. it was always cold.

“what do you mean ‘it exploded’?”

“it seriously exploded! it was on fire! that’s why i went out to buy a new extension cord!”

“jungkook, it’s because you plug in too many things at once!” you cry out in frustration, your steps becoming heavy stomps. “i told you to stop doing that!”

“what do you mean? if it has six slots, doesn’t that mean six devices is the maximum?” he continues to stubbornly defend himself, and you can only hang your head in defeat. “otherwise, it’s a scam!”

“it is a scam! see…? they made you buy a ne-”

your sentence is cut short as your tongue gets paralyzed.

a dark and striped, long figure approaching ahead, slithering its across the grass.

your mind immediately registers it as the animal you fear most.

oh, no. no, no, no, no, no.

“jungkook,” you utter his name with a tremble.

the same fear you experienced only two hours ago holds you hostage once more, add all the hair in your body standing up and you’re as frightened as a cat.

“what’s wrong? yah! what are you doing?! baby, ba- fuck!” he sputters out as you forcefully pull him back along with you, displaying a type of strength and agility he doesn’t normally see.

the two of you continue to stumble backwards as you struggle to maintain balance, and somehow jungkook manages to switch your positions so that you’re the one who lands on top him instead of the other way around when you eventually end up as a heap on the soft earth.

he begins to feel his throat closing up at the sight of pure, genuine fear in your eyes.

“jungkook, snake- it’s small bu-”

you interrupt your own sentence with a high-pitched squeal, garnering looks from strangers moving and unmoving. in the blink of an eye, your boyfriend has swept you off your feet as if you’re light as a feather, driven by the instinct to protect the love of his life.

you cover your mouth in shock, your other arm coming up around his neck to keep yourself from falling.

you think you may have fallen for jungkook all over again.

“are you spiderman?”

he was too busy searching for the subject of your fear under dim lights, and so he looks at you in bewilderment to ask, “what was that?”

you shake your head with your wide eyes shining with faux innocence. you squeak. “nothing.”

he releases a sigh, followed by a chuckle of obvious relief and amusement as he squeezes your body closer to plant a kiss on your forehead. “aigoo, my ____! why are you so scared today? what am i going to do with you…? it’s just a worm.”

“are you sure? i swear i saw it raise its head!“

“i’m sure,” he lulls you. “i think worms can do that, too?”

your face twists in an expression of mixed bewilderment and distrust.

“that i’m not sure about, but it’s really just a worm! would i still be standing here if it wasn’t?” he clicks his tongue sharply. “we need to get your eyes rechecked.”

you roll your eyes with a huff. you’ve have had enough of his teasing before it even starts.

“uh?! i’m serious over here!”

this is new— you mean bickering with jungkook in a public place isn’t, but being carried by him like a bride while it happens definitely is.

“fine, i’ll go this weekend. happy?” you fake an obedient smile. “you can put me down now.”

he blinks, and then he adjusts the way he’s holding you to ensure that your dress won’t show what’s for his eyes only— for a split second, you were flying.

“i’ll go with you,”

“okay. now put me down.“ you tap his shoulder repeatedly to prompt him to heed your words. “babe, this is embarrassing!”

“nope,” he ignores your protest with nonchalance as he resumes to walk the path you’re on, evidently enjoying the attention he’s stealing and the way you’re curling yourself smaller to hide.

“oh my god! weren’t you just complaining about your body hurting?!”

“you were scared of me leaving,” he smiles, glancing down at you. “so now i’m gluing you to myself.”

that made you quiet for a while. inside your tote, the container of kimchi, wrapped in a plastic bag, rattles with his every stride. you noticed that jungkook loved it so much, so you ordered it to go when he went to the bathroom before you were to leave the restaurant.

“you know, we used to just hold hands,” you mumble with a childish pout. “like normal people?”

“this is very normal,” he argues.

the scenery becomes more familiar as he takes the long way home.

“some would even say romantic.”

a wave of nostalgia hits, and you visibly shiver.

you don’t know if he would remember, but he has said the same exact words once before.

you scrunch your nose, supposedly to give him a look of disgust, but a giddy smile betrays you. you are five years younger again, and the night ends with the moon bidding you an adieu.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

4K notes · View notes

dazed-and-confused23 · 5 months

Note

May I ask for another small fic thing? Specifically with Dusty the Deathclaw thinking of himself as Reader’s baby, mentally and physically. As in, he’ll want to cuddle up to them even when they can no longer sprawl across their lap like they used to cause he’s freaking MASSIVE. So either Cooper or Hancock find the Reader squished under Dusty, who’s just lying there content😂 Meanwhile the reader is asking them for help as they have to use the bathroom and lost feeling in their legs🤣

brought to you by these images

Dear Hearts and Gentle People 15

Art is by @endivinity

Masterlist

The older Dusty got, the bigger he grew, but that didn't mean that his mentally grew with him. He still considered you to be his human, his mother in all accounts but species. As a baby, you would cuddle him close in your lap, petting his growing horns and scratching his itchy chin. You were everything to the deathclaw. So it only made sense to him that he could continue to cuddle his mother still, even if he stood at a whopping ten foot tall, eleven if you counted his curved horns.

You sit on the pavement outside of Boston, enjoying the meager sunlight that shines through the thick, overcast sky. Dusty has his head in your lap, a rumbling purr echoing in the air from the beast as he shifts forward. The blunt curve of his horns presses into your chest, and you fall back with a grunt. Dusty takes his opportunity to shift even more of his weight on top of his mother, his purr so loud that it makes your ears ring.

"D-Dusty, please," you croak under the deathclaw. You had already needed to pee, and his weight made the situation a thousand times worse.

Cooper, who had wondered off to explore the nearby buildings, ambled back up the road, a whistle on his lips as he kicked a rock up the hill. When he gets to the top, he glances around, expecting to see you where he'd left you last. The ghoul frowned and glared down at Dusty, who looked far too innocent for his own good.

"Where'd she go?" Cooper demands, and Dusty just rumbles deep in his throat. He takes in the situation, and a slow smirk works its way onto his lips when he spots your shoes sticking out just under the beast.

Dusty watches Cooper waltz around him and then stares down at his mother from where she lays under him. A low whuffing sound escapes him, and his nose flairs. He wasn't about to move for him.

"Looks like you've got yourself in a pickle there, chief," Cooper drawls, and you glare up at the Ghoul. You grunt as you shove at Dusty, but the creature just whines and shifts so that he covers you even more, upset that you were trying to leave him.

"Nah, I'm fine," you sneer and collapse with a defeated huff, "I love having seven hundred pounds of muscle crush me."

"Guess you don't need my help then, huh?" Cooper quips and goes to walk away, his spurs jingling, only to stop when you call his name, tone pitiful and he turns around to see you giving him puppy dog eyes.

"Coop, please get him off of me?" You plead, "I've gotta pee, and my feet are asleep."

The ghoul gives you a once over and then looks at Dusty and just how comfortable the beast looks. The deathclaw coos down at you, and you grimace when a long tongue licks up the side of your face. You catch Cooper's grin and glare even harder, "Don't you dare."

"I think ol' Dusty is too comfortable for me to try and move him, Sweetheart," Coop snickers and turns on his heel again. You'd be just fine without him. Not a soul would touch you with Dusty there.

"I'll come back later to get ya, baby."

Cooper lopes away with the sound of a happy deathclaw and an outraged smoothskin echoing in his ears. Today'd been a good day.

*sorry it's a little short @odditycircus-2002, but I hope you liked it! ❤️

#cooper howard #fallout #fallout prime #fallout tv series #cooper howard x reader #x reader #the ghoul x reader #dear hears and gentle people #deathclaws #dusty the deathclaw

213 notes · View notes

metalhoops · 2 years

Text

Read Part 1 Here

Eddie wasn’t sure how he managed it, but he had a boyfriend.

He thought he had a boyfriend, at least. None other than Steve goddamn Harrington. They’d been on dates, plural. He wasn’t sure Steve was ready for the word ‘boyfriend’, but no one Eddie had dated was, so it felt the same as it always did. He got it. This was new for Steve. Hell, this was new for Eddie.

He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for things to go bad. They were one month into whatever the hell they were doing and everything was still peaches and cream. From Eddie’s past relationships, he knew things always went south quick. People didn’t stick around. But he had a good feeling about Steve, against his better judgment.

Things did go bad, but not in the way Eddie expected.

The first and only ‘unofficial’ date the two had gone on was when Eddie stumbled across Steve, cruising at a beat of all places. The first time Eddie realised who the guy was he’d been shocked breathless and knocked back on his heels. Space and fucking time ceased to make sense because there was no way in hell The Steve Harrington, Mr Popular, ladies’ man was in a place like that. But he was.

More shocking still, Eddie had fallen for him before he knew who he was. He’d been all red-faced and tongue-tied, trying to help Steve ride out the wave of panic that’d overcome him. Eddie still wasn’t sure what had him so shaken up that night, but the time had passed to ask. If it was important, Steve would tell him.

Somehow, knowing the pretty guy he’d been making goo-goo eyes at all night was the same Steve he’d shared a history class with hadn’t changed things. Eddie had still wanted to take Steve home with him, even if nothing came of it. Eddie had his share of casual hookups. Enough to know it wasn’t what he wanted, but in a place like Hawkins, where the town borders were small and people’s minds were smaller still, you’d take the scraps that were given to you.

Steve was different to how Eddie expected. They’d orbited each other in high school. Well, Eddie had orbited Steve. He kept his distance, but trailed in the boy’s wake, much to Eddie’s own dismay. For a dude who had a stick up his ass regarding the high school hierarchy, and jocks in general, developing a crush on Steve during his first go at senior year had been a devastating blow to his sense of self. Hell, the guy had been a thorn in his side for years, spurring on a mad case of cognitive dissonance every time he crossed his path.

Eddie was constantly surprised at how easy it was to date Steve. Not that he’d expected dating Steve to be hard on his end, but dating guys always came with complications. In Eddie’s experience, it was never simple. There were always hoops to jump through, parents or friends who couldn’t find out. Not with Steve. It was equal parts, comforting and disconcerting.

Steve’s parents never factored into the equation besides a couple of off-handed comments the boy made, which always left a vile taste in the back of Eddie’s throat. Steve never said anything that’d raise alarm bells to an unassuming ear, but if you knew what to look for, they were there. Eddie heard his father’s voice echoing back through the years when Steve would talk about his father.

Steve wasn’t going to come out to his parents, at least not while he still lived under their roof, but they’d been out of town for months, so the Harrington house had become a refuge, as had the Munson’s trailer.

Wayne was always working nights, not that he’d care if Eddie had a guy around. His uncle knew about him, and he’d rather guys come around to their place instead of Eddie sneaking out to make out with them in his van or in the back of some club. Wayne was understanding, the rest of the world wasn’t always.

He hadn’t told Wayne about Steve. He hadn’t told anyone about Steve, not that he didn’t want to. He did. He just didn’t think Steve was ready. The guy was good at acting calm, but Eddie knew there was something bubbling beneath the surface. He’d act smooth and unbothered when they’d make out on the couch. Hell, he’d been willing to go to third base quickly for a guy who’d thought he was straight up until a few weeks before. Steve had been calm. He’d taken it in his stride.

It was the little things that did it. They’d been watching a movie together at Eddie’s place. He’d taken Steve’s palm into his lap and traced absentmindedly, hating to sit still for too long. Eddie paused as he felt Steve’s hand tremble beneath his fingertips. He looked at Steve and for once the boy looked rattled, seeming floored that someone had touched him so gently. Again, Eddie felt the old familiar ache. King Steve wouldn’t crumble just because someone was soft with him, right? No way. Not back then. Something must have happened, but that was the thing about them. Their pasts were their pasts. They had each other and that would have to do for now.

It wasn’t until Eddie showed up late to Steve’s place that he realised they needed to talk about it. Sometimes, when Eddie was absorbed in something, the rest of the world fell away. He’d told Steve he’d come around to his place for dinner at seven. He’d been making notes for the latest Hellfire campaign. He’d decided the party’s latest ‘big bad’ was going to be none other than the dark wizard, Vecna himself. He’d been poring over lore to set up things just right for the long road ahead of them and he’d lost track of the time.

It’d been a hell of a day for it too. A dark cloud had descended on the sleepy town of Hawkins, breaking the winter freeze early. The sky was dark and if Eddie thought about it, the lights had been flickering with the storm. When he emerged from writing, it was dark outside and the alarm clock radio by his bed read 12:05. Which definitely wasn’t the time.

Shit. Eddie threw on a jacket, hit the gas and was pulling up to the Harrington manner in no time. The clock in his car let him know it was eight-fifteen.

Eddie expected Steve to be pissed. He felt worse when Steve wasn’t.

He let himself in without knocking. To his surprise, Steve hadn’t locked the door. He always locked the door. He’d shot up from where he’d been sitting stock-still at the dining room table as Eddie’s footfalls seemed to bring him back from where his mind had been. He looked at Eddie for a long moment. Eddie could wilt under the scrutiny of Steve’s gaze, his jaw set, his eyes scraping over every last inch of him. He’d sighed, looking all at once like a lost child, uncertain and vaguely ashamed.

“I thought something happened,” Steve muttered.

It set off all the alarm bells and red flags Eddie had been ignoring. When their new partner didn’t show up to a date, some people might think the worst, that they were being stood up or that their date had found somebody else but not Steve. He’d been worried something happened to Eddie. He’d looked the way he had when the two first ran into each other at the fairgrounds. Wide-eyed and on the verge of a breakdown.

Eddie kept telling himself that whatever had happened with Steve wasn’t a big deal, because Steve kept telling him it and damn Eddie wanted to believe him. Being with Steve had been easy, but Eddie knew facing whatever the hell this was would make it harder. The signs had all been there from the start.

The guy rarely slept, and when he did, it was fitful and filled with incoherent mumbling. He’d ball Eddie’s sheets between his clenched palms and whimper like a dog in a car during the midday heat. Eddie didn’t bring it up because he’d been right during their first night together. Steve was haunted by something goddamn awful and Eddie wanted so badly to do something that’d make it go away, but he also knew things were never that simple.

“I’m fine. I just got caught up. It was stupid. I’m sorry I made you worry,” Eddie spoke when he found his voice.

Steve was shaking. Shit.

Eddie reached out and touched his hand, balled so tightly into a fist, his knuckles turned white. As Eddie slowly pried his hand open, he realised his palms were bleeding, his nails having made five deep, half-moon crescent wounds.

“Was it that dragon game? The little shitheads don’t appreciate how much effort you put into that stuff,” Steve spoke, almost sounding normal, seeming unaware of the blood, or the way his knees knocked together, the way his body swayed like a strong breeze would send him tumbling.

Steve wanted to know about his stupid goddamn fantasy game and god Eddie wanted to take the out, he didn’t want to have to dredge up whatever unspoken thing that’d twisted Steve up, knowing it might just ruin what the two had together but in the end, it didn’t matter. Eddie would rather know Steve was okay. They could work out what they were after.

“Stevie, what did you think happened to me tonight?” Eddie asked, holding the boy’s hand, and leading him to the kitchen sink.

He wet a dishtowel and gently rubbed it over Steve’s palm.

“The power went out,” Steve mumbled, as though that explained it all. Eddie tried to follow.

“Yeah Stevie, there was a storm. Storms kinda do that. Did you think I’d run off the road or something?” He watched Steve’s jaw tense.

“The thought crossed my mind,” He confessed, and Eddie nodded, placing Steve’s palm to his cheek, nudging against it.

“But I didn’t and I’m fine. We’re going to talk about this, okay? Maybe not tonight, but I want you to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours. I’m your boyfriend, Steve. That’s what boyfriends do. They tell each other shit.”

Steve’s eyes were suddenly on him again. Oh shit. Eddie had used the word, hadn’t he? That word was meant to stay in his head for another few months, at least.

This is how you scare people away, Munson. You go too hard, too fast and you scare people away, but Steve had stopped shaking.

He pulled Eddie in for a bone-crushing hug, holding him so tightly the man could hardly breathe. He felt Steve bury his head into the nape of his neck and holy shit, Eddie was so gone for this stupid jock.

“Alright. Okay. Yeah. I’ll tell you about it, just not tonight,” Steve muttered, mostly to himself.

Eddie wasn’t convinced, but he wanted to believe Steve.

“Alright, not tonight.”

The two stood together for a moment as another bout of rolling thunder cut the lights. Steve’s hands grasped at Eddie’s jacket. The silence felt loaded. Eddie needed to break it.

“You’re not weirded out I called you my boyfriend?” He asked, testing the waters, wondering how much back peddling he was going to have to do.

“No, why?” Steve breathed, pulling back slightly, trying to work out Eddie’s features in the sudden darkness. It was just like the night at the fairground.

Eddie knew Steve better in the darkness than he did in the light. Steve, in the dark, seemed right. He was a figured silhouette, beautiful but inscrutable to Eddie.

“It’s not too soon?” He watched Steve blink at him through the darkness.

“I might have told Robin you were my boyfriend weeks ago,” Steve spoke hesitantly, his hand still ensnared in Eddie’s jacket.

Eddie let out an exasperated laugh and pressed their foreheads together.

“Oh, okay, cool. I was worried I was taking things too quick,” Eddie mumbled, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks, thankful for the darkness. Goddamn, he really had a boyfriend.

“Life’s short,” Steve reasoned. It didn’t sit right.

“Maybe for other people. I’m gonna live forever, baby. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” he teased, slipping his hand into the back pocket of Steve’s jeans.

He didn’t know what happened with Steve but this seemed important. Steve needed to know he wasn’t going anywhere.

Though the world had a funny way of turning around to bite you in the ass. The next time Eddie missed a date night, Steve really goddamn needed to be worried.

#steddie #steddie drabble #back by popular demand #a part 2 #steve harrington #eddie munson #Pre season 4 #eddie x steve #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st #more angst with a dash of fluff #I left it up in the air #for a possible part 3 #if people are interested #steddie fic

2K notes · View notes

fandomfics · 1 month

Text

Anything for You

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem Reader

Description: undercover jobs are always risky, but when you're caught going against the gang you and Dean have fallen in with, Dean is forced to do something drastic.

Masterlist

A/N: I love Dean. That is all

⚠️Warnings⚠️

18+ MDNI

Past/memories in italics. Canon typical violence, language, use of restraints, alcohol use, drunkenness, dark themes, human trafficking, murder, talk of vamps, no actual vamps appear. unprotected p in v, oral F receiving, angst, fluff, smut. The whole 9 yards. Not proof read.

Smut under the 🔥

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You are on your knees on the hard concrete, sitting on your heels, blindfolded. The rope that binds your wrists behind your back digs into you, the friction burning your sensitive skin. The smell of blood invades your nostrils, you can only hope it's not Dean's.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"This could take weeks. We need to make sure that we don't blow this before we find the nest. " Dean sighs putting his head in his hands.

"We'll be fine. As fucked up as it is, them using a shelter as a cover will help us. My intel says they mostly pose as volunteers, they just hand the people off, No kidnap or torture at this stage. We pass the info to Sammy when we get it," you gesture to him across the table, "and he'll let the other hunters know the drop point."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You curse yourself under your breath as you remember those words, you should have been prepared for the unexpected. Your sense of time is distorted, your body is weak, you just want to fall to your side and pass out. You resist the urge and continue straining your ears to hear anything outside of the concrete room you are in. Nothing. Every pair of shoes you have are modified to carry a blade of some sort, You take the silence as your que to remove it and work at the rope. Periodically you stop to listen for any indication of footsteps, when you are satisfied by the silence you continue.

After what feels like an eternity, you're finally able to free yourself. When you draw up the blindfold you see the bare concrete room with a single light dangling from the ceiling and a door in front of you.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The shelter you stand in front of is quiet and unassuming, the sign above you flickers momentarily, 'Hope's Haven'. Your gut clenches, places like this are supposed to be safe for the less fortunate. You're spurred on to take out this threat and move forward, duffle slung over your shoulder.

Dean is hot on your heels as you enter the building, "We're the new in-house caretakers." You say plainly, looking over the receptionist, wondering if she's part of this whole game.

"Door at the end of the hallway." She considers you and Dean for a moment before returning to her computer.

You pass several doors, every one marked, men's and women's dorms, family dorms, restrooms, showers, cafeteria, rec room. The door at the end of the hallway is marked volunteers only.

Behind the door is a staircase that leads to the small volunteers dorm, a few individual rooms and bathrooms, and a door marked 'Do Not Enter.' each door of the dorms has a white board on it with the names of the occupants, you quickly find the one marked with yours and Dean's chosen alias'.

"I'm surprised you let me pick the names. No protest either. I expected more from you Dean." You chuckle as you start to unpack your things.

His eyes narrow as he realizes he's missed something, "what do you mean?"

"You know," you stiffle a full on giggle before continuing, "Stevie Nicks is a woman right....and Lindsey Buckingham is a dude."

"Really?" Dean says Incredulously. "I guess it's a good thing no one ever thinks twice when we give our cover names..."

You can no longer keep your laughter in, bursting out in a fit as you fall back into the bed. "Right, no one EVER second guesses them." The sarcasm in your voice evident as your laugh dies down.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You hear footsteps approaching outside the door and reposition yourself to sit against the wall, replacing the blindfold, hands behind your back with your small knife in one.

The creak of the door causes your muscles to tense, but then you hear his voice.

"Fuck, are you okay?" You can hear Dean making his way across the room to you as you quickly bring your hands up to remove the blindfold. He drops to his knees next to you and cups your face in his hands waiting for your reply. When you don't respond quickly enough he lightly taps your cheek with his hand, "Hey!"

"I-I'm fine." You look at him in shock, "Dean...why are you covered in blood?"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"I told you to fucking wait for me!" Deans exasperation was clear, "You think they really believe that you weren't in that office snooping?"

"Would they let me go if they didn't?" You plop down on the bed in your shared room and start to take off your shoes.

"Maybe not, but you still should have waited dammit." His voice was quiet, almost inaudible. You pause briefly before continuing in a totally different direction.

"Come on, it's the fourth night we've been here, stop sleeping on the floor. I'm not gonna give you cooties." You say playfully trying to change the subject.

"Fine, I guess that's a suitable punishment for making me worry."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You've barely slept, huddled with your back against the wall, Dean takes up most of the bed. As much as you would love to just cuddle up to him, he's your best friend. You've harbored a bit of a crush on him for years, but you know he doesn't feel the same, you've accepted that.

You're letting your mind wander until he begins to shift beside you and suddenly his face is inches from yours.

"Dean." His name a hoarse whisper. When he doesn't stir you try again, this time louder, "Dean!"

His eyes open slowly, "hmm?" When he is finally able to focus he realizes how close he is. "I told you this was your punishment. I'm not moving." You push his chest trying to get him to move but he doesn't budge.

"I can't sleep, you're taking up the whole fucking bed." You whine, exasperated from your exhaustion.

He wraps his arm around you and pulls you a bit closer as his eyes slowly close again. "Come on. We're friends, you don't have to be afraid to touch me, get some sleep." He turns away from you and gives you a bit more room. You follow suit, turning to your other side to face the wall and finally drift off.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

When the alarm wakes you in the morning you feel the heaviness of Dean's arm draped over your waist. He stirs behind you and swings his arm back to turn the alarm off before leaving it back where it was.

"Mornin'" His voice is groggy

"Dean...what are you doing?"

"Shit, sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable?" He starts to move away but you catch his hand before he can, keeping it firmly planted where it lays on your stomach.

"No, it's nice." You are emboldened by his touch and allow your fingers to trace over his hands.

You feel his hot breath on the shell of your ear, "Yeah..." He quietly agrees before lightly kissing your cheek. Your heart swells and flutters and you have to stop yourself from overthinking this. He isn't confessing his love your you, he's just enjoying cuddle. It doesn't mean anything.

You wait a couple minutes in silence, enjoying a little taste of domestic bliss with Dean before reluctantly pushing his arm away and speaking again, "Come on, we gotta get up." You sit up and stretch, turning to Dean, "Come on!" He turns to lay face down, the pillows muffle his clear rejection at the thought.

"We've got shit to do. Come. On." You stand on your knees and push at his body again, trying to roll him out of bed. When that doesn't work you begin to poke and prod at him.

"I don't wanna." He groans.

As a last resort you stand up and start bouncing up and down, it's childish, but you're having the time of your life annoying Dean until he turns and sits up. You stop your antics, standing above him within arms reach, out of breath and giggling. His face softens and he smiles.

"You're a god damned pest, ya know that?" He chuckles and finally swings his legs over the side of the bed.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"We can talk about it when we get out of here." Dean says as he helps you up from the concrete floor.

He checks you over before grabbing your hand to make a run for it. Everything is oddly quiet and you meet no resistance on your way to baby. In an instant your on the road making your way out of town in silence.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You've barely slid out of the bed when you hear the door open. Some of the bigger goons of this operation stand on either side of the door as the woman you assumed to be the receptionist in your time here walks in with a look of disappointment on her face.

"You can't just barge into-" Dean starts protesting before one of the men point a gun at you. He stops and keeps his eye on him with a glare. "What do you want?" Dean says harshly.

"Her." The woman states rather plainly.

"Why?"

"She violated my privacy, caught her snooping through my things."

"What? No I didn't!" You try desperately to lie.

"Honey, I got you on camera."

Deans face drops as he looks to you, his face contorted in surprise and anger.

"Oh," she feigns pity, "you didn't know what she was doing without you? Wonder what else she gets up to behind your back?"

You're both too stunned for words as she turns with one last statement, "lock her up, don't torture her too much. She may still be useful. And Stevie, you'll need to work extra hard around here if you ever want to see her again." She snaps her fingers and the men drag you off to the room.

"Just do what they say, help them finish the job. don't worry about me." You try and tell Dean as he calls after you.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

An eternity passes in silence and night falls. A neon sign in the distance advertises a motel with a 24 hour diner across the street, you sigh in relief knowing he'll stop.

When you've showered and eaten you both lay in your respective beds in the dark. Dean has still barely said a word to you, the tension has made you anxious. You fade in and out of consciousness, your thoughts never ceasing. You remain restless.

You look to the clock on the nightstand. 3:17am. You run a hot bath, hoping it will help to ease your tense muscles, you pour the lavender shampoo in the running water, hoping the calming scent will ease your mind.

You let out a sigh as you sink in, your thoughts still lingering on the question you've pondered since leaving. What did Dean do that would cause him to be so distant?

Your snapped out of your thoughts when you hear a knock on the door. The water has grown cold and you're unsure how long you had been in there. "How much longer you gonna be? I need to piss." You hear Dean's gruff voice from the other side of the door.

"I'll be out in a sec." You quickly dry yourself off and dress allowing Dean the restroom. You sit on his bed, lights on, waiting for him to finish. He doesn't seem surprised, but he still doesn't want to talk.

"Dean, tell me what happened."

"I saved you, end of story." His climbs back into his bed and turns away from you. "Get the lights will ya?"

You scoff, "if it's that fucking simple, why can't you talk to me about it?"

He remains silent, no sign of any change. "Fine." Tears sting your eyes as you move back to your bed, turning the lights off on the way.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You sit in the kitchen of the bunker with Sam. Same thing you've done a million times before.

"It's been three months Sam. Has barely talks to me. It fucking hurts."

"He still won't tell me anything about it either-"

"Yeah, but at least he doesn't treat you like the worst thing that ever happened to him, like a plague. We used to be so close, now we're practically strangers. I don't know if I can keep living here like this. I don't want to."

You hear footsteps retreating away towards the library and look to Sam.

"Well go tell him that. I don't want you to go, but I don't blame you either."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You walk into the library to see Dean sitting at a table, hunched over a book, deep in thought.

"I'm leaving, I can't live here anymore." You say matter of factly.

"Okay. Have a nice life." Dean doesn't look up from his reading.

You march over to where he sits and fling everything in front of him off the table in a rage.

"What the fuck happened to you Dean? You have made these last few months an absolute living hell for me. We were best friends, we shared almost everything with each other." Your tears fall freely as you scream, he avoids your eyes.

"You can't even look at me. Like whatever happened is my fucking fault, but you're too chicken shit to say what it was."

You start to pace around as he stands up to leave.

"You're gonna run away from me again?" You stalk forward and shove him back, "Just tell me you hate me, you don't want to be near me, you don't want anything to do with me anymore. Something, anything. Give me some god damn peace Dean Winchester." You try to push him again and he catches your arms before they can make contact with his chest and you struggle to free yourself from his grip.

"I wish you left sooner. I thought maybe you woulda got the hint sooner. You're making this whole thing harder for both of us." He finally looks into your eyes after months, you're clearly in pain. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief of his words, as a sob shakes your body and your legs stop working. He catches you and sits you in the chair he was occupying.

You feel as though the man you thought he was is dead, and you sit in front of a facsimile of him, mourning the loss of someone who was once dear to you.

His hands slam on the table and you flinch at the sudden noise. "You want to know why I don't talk to you? Cause I killed five people. People, not monsters. I didn't think twice about doing it. I did it to save your sorry ass."

You sit in stunned silence as he leaves the room. You're heartbroken, you never would have expected him to be so cruel to you of all people.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Torture? Absolutely the fuck not. Dean is going to take down every one of them before they can touch a hair on your head. He gets dressed and opens the door to find one of the large men guarding it.

"What? You supposed to follow me around?"

He nods solemnly. Without warning Dean pulls a small knife from his pocket and stabs the man right in the neck. As he begins to fall Dean catches him and drags him into the room before holstering the knife and continuing on.

His rage bubbles in his gut, consuming him entirely, his body moves without a second thought. His mission to rescue you is clear, damn the job, damn these fucking people.

One by one he finds each of the other people and puts them down without hesitation.

Something snaps when he finally releases you and is running for the exits. He just murdered five people. They weren't good people by any mans, but they weren't monsters in the literal sense.

The entire ride to the motel was silent, his mind was overwhelmed with the thoughts of how far he went to rescue you, how much it scares him that he was willing to take these humans out, for you. The fact that he would do it again a hundred times over if it means you're safe.

As much as he doesn't want you to leave, he is afraid of the lengths he will go to, the things he will do for you.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sam finds you in the library an hour later, hunched over the desk, still crying. He kneels beside you and puts a hand on your back to sooth you. You immediately turn into him and engulf him in a hug as you explain what happened. Your ever dutiful friend listens to every word as he allows you to cling to him, rubbing your back.

"I'm so sorry," he says as he squeezes you tightly. "I understand if you still want to leave, but you need to rest a bit now." You nod into his shoulder and he helps you up, guiding you to your room and laying you in bed. As he leaves you turn to face the wall and cry yourself to sleep.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

In the middle of the night you find yourself in desperate need of hydration. On your way back from the kitchen you turn a corner and collide hard with Dean. The glass in your hands drops to the floor and shatters sending water and sharp shards across the hallway. You're about to berate Dean, take all your anger out on him until you realize he's been crying.

He turns and makes his way back to his room without a word and you follow close behind.

"What the fuck do you have to cry about Winchester? Huh? You tore me to pieces like I didn't mean a thing and you're crying?" You scoff.

He ignores your words and you keep going. "Still don't want to talk? You killed those people. Not me. I told you to finish the job, not to worry about me. You decided to do all that yourself. So stop taking it out on me you selfish prick. Hate me all you want, but that was your decision."

He stops in his tracks just as he crosses the threshold of his room and finally turns his head to address you. "I don't hate you."

"Unbelievable."

"You're not going to leave me alone are you?" He turns to you fully now, "You aren't getting it. I killed those people because the thought of them touching you in any way was terrifying to me. The thought of losing you forever filled me with blind rage. You were careless and got yourself caught and I couldn't deal with it. The fact that I could do that for you fucking scares me. I was the monster."

His door slams in your face and you are left speechless. You have no idea how you feel, your thoughts are jumbled and you want nothing more than to quiet them down.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You and a bottle of rum occupy the kitchen for the remainder of the night. You talk to yourself, to the bottle, to imaginary Dean as you play out how future conversations may go. You're emotions are scattered to the winds and you just want to drink until you're numb.

Half the bottle is gone and your head lays on your folded arms at the table. You hear someone walking in but all you can do is groan pitifully. Your vision is blurred and your head is fuzzy but you recognize Dean's voice through it it.

"Jesus Christ," you hear the bottle being picked up and unceremoniously slammed back down. "This isn't going to help."

"Yeronetatalk" your words slur together.

Without another word he lifts you from the chair and takes you to your room. As much as you want to protest, you can't, you're too drunk. He lays you in your bed and leaves for a few minutes. He returns with a gallon jug of water, a cup, a trash can, and some aspirin.

He pulls a chair up next to the bed and puts his head in his hands. He spends hours there with you, mostly asleep, but taking care of you when you're not, holding your hair back, urging you to drink water.

"I'm sorry." You hear him whisper when he thinks your asleep. "I didn't want this."

Your heart hurts. So does everything else. Your eyes open and he urges you to drink more water and take the aspirin.

"Dean," his eyes meet yours. "I'm sorry...for being reckless. I should have waited for you. You're right. But don't you dare blame me for what you did."

"I'm sorry too. I know it wasn't your fault that I did it for you. I just wanted you to leave so I wouldn't have to worry about losing you in the worst ways imaginable. I wanted you to run off and find a nice normal guy to settle down with and live a nice normal life. I've been....selfish. "

Again you're left speechless at the vulnerability that Dean is showing. He's finally talking to you again and dropping his innermost thoughts, it's dizzying.

"You're one of the most important people in my life, my best friend, I love you."

"Dean, I love you too, I never wanted to leave, you just made me feel like trash. Like nothing. I don't know what this means for our friendship, but you really fucking hurt me. Im not going anywhere though."

"I don't just love you as a friend. That's not what I meant." He whispers "but I understand, I wouldn't want to even be my friend after what I've done to you."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The next day him and Sam leave to go take care of a simple haunting. They should only be gone a few days, a week at most with delays. You take the time to try and do things you enjoy. You relax. For the first time in months. Now you know everything, it still hurts, but you aren't in the dark anymore.

You use the time to think about what you want. You think about Dean saying the words you've wanted to hear for so long. Even after all that you are still in love with him too.

You spend the next four days mulling everything over, weighing all of your options, going through every scenario in your head. Every outcome.

This is the first time in the years that you've known him that Dean has ever done anything to purposely upset you. You understand why. Can you forgive him?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You hear them return and rush to Dean's room to wait for him. You play with your fingers nervously as you sit on the bed, it feels like time slows as you wait.

"Oh, Hey." He says somewhat suspiciously as the door opens.

"Hey," a small smile graces your lips. "Can we talk?"

"Yeah....yeah. " he drops his duffle in the floor and sits next to you on the bed, suddenly finding his hands very interesting.

"I forgive you. You should forgive yourself too. Those were terrible people. They knew what they were sending those people into. They knew they would die."

He looks up to you in surprise, "They were still human though."

"They've led hundreds of people to their deaths, knowingly. Fuck them. I know you Dean. You wouldn't hurt anyone who doesn't deserve it."

"I did though... I hurt you."

"Okay, but you usually don't." You place your hand on his. His eyes meet yours before you continue, "That's why I forgive you."

"I don't deserve it."

"I think you do, so get over it and accept it because I'm in love with you too. You're never getting rid of me now."

"You can't be serious." You cup his face with your hands and pull him in for a gentle kiss which he eagerly returns.

"I am," you say pulling away, "get some rest, you're taking me out on a date later. And I want something fancy. Pick me up at eight."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

At exactly 8pm, Dean knocks on your door. He extends a single red rose when you open the door, a wide goofy grin adorns you face as you look him over in his suit. You take the rose and place it in the glass of water at your bedside before returning to him.

"You look beautiful. You always look beautiful." You look down as a blush comes to your cheeks.

"Thank you," you reach up on tip toes and kiss him on the cheek. "You look handsome as usual." You smile up at him.

"So, where are you taking me Mr. Winchester?" He extends an arm and you take it as he leads you to the garage.

"It's a surprise." He winks and your heart flutters.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Truth or Dare?" Dean asks you, it's your first night at the shelter and you and Dean are passing time with a game.

"Uhhhh, truth."

"What's your ideal date?"

"What an odd question from you," you laugh, "a picnic under the stars, dancing slow in the moonlight, maybe a bit of wine."

"That is so fucking sappy." Dean laughs and you stick your tongue out at him playfully.

"Whatever. Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"What's your ideal date?" You chuckle maniacally.

"Whatever gets me laid." He laughs heartily and you roll your eyes.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Close your eyes." Dean holds you hand as he drives, after about 15 minutes of driving the car comes to a stop and Dean takes your hand. Your confused when you step out and feel the crunch of gravel beneath your feet, after a short walk it turns to grass.

"Okay, open your eyes." Dean drops your hand and leans down to press play on a. Old boom box and Lady by Styx begins to play. You stand on a hilltop, a tree before you is covered in fairy lights, on the ground is a blanket that's been laid out, he sets a basket on the ground and gestures for you to sit. The moon is full, the sky is littered with stars, everything is perfect.

"I know it's not fancy like you said... But-"

"You remembered." You whisper, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

"Of course I did." He smiles. You enjoy a charcuterie board, conversation, wine. You spend a while just enjoying each other's company, laying on the ground staring up at the stars. The tape that was playing finally ends and Dean switches to a new tape before standing up and extending his hand to you.

Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley begins to play and you take his hand. He helps you up and pulls you close, "dance with me?"

You nod your head, one hand clasped in his as the other rests on his chest. His other hand pulls you by the waiste, impossibly close. You sway slowly, looking up into his eyes. "You're so fucking sappy." You grin.

"Anything for you." He looks deep into your eyes before continuing, "I want to ask you something."

"Yeah?"

"Before I ask, I want to promise that I will always be honest with you from now on. I won't ever hide anything unless it's a really cool surprise for you."

"Okay," you giggle

"Will you be my girl?"

"Abso-fuckin-lutely." You bring him in for a kiss. It's soft and sweet, you feel a warmth flood through your body. "And I promise to try and not be so reckless."

He smiles and plants a quick peck on your lips before pulling away to get a velvety rectangular box out of his jacket pocket. He opens it in front of you and you can't help but laugh boisterously at his cheesy gift.

A dainty silver chain with a "D."

"You hate it." He says looking down.

"No, it's the cheesiest fucking thing and I absolutely adore it. Help me put it on!" He moves behind you and clasps it around your neck before snaking his arms around you and resting his head on your shoulder. You rest one hand on his and cup his face with the other.

"I'm never taking this off." He gives you a little squeeze and sways with you to the next song that plays. "I love you dean." He hums contentedly.

"I love you too." He says softly before kissing your neck. A small moan escapes your lips and you feel him smirk into your neck. You tilt your head and allow him to continue and he takes the invitation with no hesitation. A shiver runs down your spine when he hits your pulse point and you turn in his arms tilting your head up just as his lips crash into yours.

🔥

This kiss is deeper, voracious, his desire is evident in the way he holds you to him, and you're returning it right back to him.

"Dean," you pant after breaking the kiss, "do you think we'd get caught for public indecency out here?"

His eyes widen as he takes your meaning, "Babe, it'd be worth it even if we did."

You giggle as he backs you up against the tree and kisses down your body, when he's on his knees he looks up to you, "Tell me. Tell me what you want."

"I want you. I want to feel you inside of me, I want you to claim me."

"Fuck." He moans out before pushing his hands through the slit in your dress to remove your underwear. He shoves them in his pocket, "Those are mine now." He winks before hiking one leg over his shoulder, displaying your dripping cunt to him.

He immediately dives in, the obscene sounds of him devouring you mixed with both of your moans cut through the silence of the night. His hands gently caress your legs leaving a delightful tingle that causes you to shiver as the bark of the tree digs into your back with a pleasurable pinch of pain. He moves his focus to your clit as he allows a finger to prod your entrance.

"Yes, please, Dean..." You whisper breathlessly. He hums, sending a vibration through you and you can't help but buck into it. Your hands weave into his hair, gently pulling as you continue to roll your hips into him. He fully inserts his finger and curls it right against your sweet spot, eliciting a squeak of surprise from you that quickly turns to a moan.

He adds another finger and continues pumping them into you, moaning every time you pull his hair and grind against his face.

"Dean...fuck, just like that.... I'm gonna cum." Your cunt tightens, pulsing as your release hits and you cum hard on his fingers as he helps you ride it out. He immediately laps it up and removes his fingers. You moan as you watch him lick them clean. The lower half of his face is covered in your slick, igniting your desire to feel him again.

You grab the lapels of his jacket and yank him to you, his mouth finds yours again and you taste yourself on him. Your hand travels down his chest to the hard outline of his cock. You gently run a finger over it, teasing him until he's a shivering mess.

"Babe please." He whispers into your mouth. You make quick work of releasing him, he hikes your leg up, keeping one hand on your thigh as he lines up to your entrance. He slowly rolls his hips until he's fully inside of you.

He continues languidly rolling his hips, his free hand cups your face as his forehead rests against yours, his eyes firmly gazing into yours. The connection you feel is deeper than just the physical way your bodies are melding.

You call out his name in a breathy moan and his hips move a bit faster, "where?"

"Cum inside me, please Dean. I want to feel you."

"Fuck, you drive me wild. Cum with me." Your hand finds your clit, circling it in time with his thrusts. Your eyes close involuntarily in bliss, "Eyes on me beautiful."

"Almost...."

Another wave of pleasure washes over you, you pulse and contract around Dean as you both cry out in pleasure. You feel him spill inside you with a few final languid thrusts. He stays there, cradling your face in his hand, catching his breath.

After his breathing steadies, he releases your leg and puts himself away. He takes one of the extra cloth napkins he brought and pours some water on it before getting on one knee in front of you. His hands guide your foot to rest on his leg to open you up to him once more and he cleans you up, lovingly planting kisses to your inner thigh.

139 notes · View notes

sunlightmurdock · 1 year

Note

mav finding out about his daughter and bradley's affair in the worst way possible

hehehehe so I’m imagining it’s a night that she and Mav had a really big, really public argument. She was at the Hard Deck being fake flirty — fake it til you make it type confidence that Bradley can see straight through, but Mav can’t. Mav just thinks it’s dangerous.

And where does she go after Maverick embarrasses her in front of everyone?? Bradley’s place.

It’s a night that he had stayed in, and she’s supposed to still be out, so he’s confused when the pounding on his front door is revealed to be her.

“He’s insane! He’s actually fucking insane! I was just playing pool and he came over yelling about being careful and respecting myself and..” Bradley just watches as she ducks under his arm, letting herself into his house and starting to pace furiously around his living room. She’s wearing a fitted dress, it’s cute, but short.

He doesn’t need to ask who has upset her, he already knows. Rooster just swings the door shut behind him and lets her rant.

“He didn’t ever care about being a parent when I was a kid, who does he think he is? — Acting like he gets to tell me what to do now.” She growls angrily.

Just wearing a pair of sweat shorts, Bradley sits on the arm of his couch and waits for you to be done. It takes a while, but he doesn’t mind listening.

The story finishes abruptly, mainly because she has been staring at his bare chest and shoulders for long enough that her anger has faded and been replaced with something else entirely.

It’s one of the reasons she loves Bradley. His ability to get her mind off of things. And how good he is in bed.

He makes her cum on his tongue, his fingers and then his cock. First on the couch, then against the wall in his hallway, finally in his bed. It’s wild. She knows that she’ll be left with bruises on her thighs in the morning and it just spurs her on.

She begs him for more as he fucks her hard, facedown onto his mattress, and he just complies. And then, when she’s a whimpering, trembling mess afterwards, he brings her a damp cloth and tells her to hang tight while he gets her some water.

Bradley passes by the front window as the pounding at the door starts. He makes brief eye contact with Maverick and knows he can’t pretend to already be in bed. He opens the door gingerly.

“She didn’t come home tonight!” Maverick pushes past Bradley without warning, starting to pace furiously around the living room. Bradley pales. “We had a big fight, and maybe I was out of line — I know she’s not stupid enough to fool around with any of those guys, but— fuck, she hasn’t come home and I’m out of my mind. Should we call the cops?”

Bradley tears his attention away from your dress poking out from between his couch cushions. Your heels discarded on the floor. Your panties by the hallway door.

“Cops? — No.” Bradley decides quickly. “She’s… probably just cooling off at a friend’s house.”

“But what if—“ Maverick stops talking as he catches sight of the heels on the floor. He looks up and examines Bradley’s dishevelled hair and love-bitten neck. “Oh. Oh, you have company. I’m sorry, I’m just so worried. Could I call her from your phone? — She won’t answer if she knows it’s me.”

Bradley swallows, then shakes his head. “Just give her some time to cool off, Mav. She’ll be fine.”

“How could you possibly promise that —“ Maverick catches sight of the dress and stops berating the Lieutenant for just a moment. He squints, trying to piece together the familiarity. He looks between the shoes and the dress.

Cut to Maverick absolutely tearing Bradley’s place apart looking for her, finding her hiding in his closes in one of his shirts and all hell breaking loose.

#I could genuinely write 100 dif scenarios in which they get caught lol #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #thots night (:#bradley x Mav’s daughter #top gun smut #older bf bradley

408 notes · View notes

fingertipsmp3 · 2 months

Text

Just had to throw my slippers away and I’m genuinely on the verge of tears. Feels like adding insult to injury

#like this day was already going badly lol #random fucking man tells me i’m not independent enough to work for him because i don’t have a car #(this was a minimum wage job opening mind you so i’m not sure exactly what money he expects me to be running a car with)#went for a run and concluded my heel spur is actually now an even bigger problem than my arthritic knee #and unlike my arthritic knee; the heel spur isn’t going to stop causing problems unless i get surgery LOL. it’s fucking bone #i’m going to have to buy heavy duty running trainers or something and i will never financially recover from that #then found out the weed gummies that are allegedly 100mg barely do anything to me #i’ll have to take 2 at once if i want more than to be slightly dazed for a couple of hours #i need to quit weed for the foreseeable #and THEN i accidentally step outside in my house slippers and somehow step in shit?#it was only on the sole but my reflex reaction was to chuck them in the bin #then i realised i could probably clean them and was about to take them out but realised they were covered in food waste at that point #i’m so upset. i’m really picky about my slippers because i was wearing a pair of slippers that were too big for me when i fell #and dislocated my knee the first time. so i don’t wear boot-style slippers OR backless slippers #they have to fit my feet exactly but they also have to be warm and not look like my grandma’s slippers #(i LOVE my grandma but i don’t want to dress like an 80 year old. i’m not there yet. you understand)#i just have Such a hard time finding something that fits the bill. and these were so comfy and warm and i loved them :(#and they would’ve had at least another year of life in them. there was Nothing wrong with them apart from they were a smidge big if i didn’t #have socks on. (but not big enough to trip me)#i should also mention my feet are a women’s 8.5 and really narrow #and shoe brands are unnecessarily.. imprecise with their sizing so i’m ALWAYS finding that the sole is too small but the rest of the slipper #fits fine. or something like that. but not with these #i’m so ANNOYED i have to buy a new pair. my feet are already fucking cold #really feels like everything is about to get me lol. my body doesn’t want me running. i have to give up weed #and now i can’t even have warm feet. i can’t even be COMFORTABLE. COOL. THANKS #personal

0 notes

tojismain · 1 year

Text

toji x fem!reader comfort

synopsis. you come home from a disappointing night out with your friends and toji is there to pick up the pieces :P

You had been out after a spur-of-the-moment plan with some friends. You were excited, thinking that maybe you would be able to talk to them like you once had.

The night is over and you're back home, you open the door, carefully removing your heels, biting your lip and holding in tears.

If this night could sum you up in one word, it would be brooding.

Safe to say the excitement buzzed away faster than you noticed.

Toji sits on the couch in the living room, he glances your way as he's leaned back, one leg propped on the other as his left heel touches his right thigh.

Every other night you would come home smiling brightly, barely taking off your shoes, tripping over your words as you show him pictures from the night out, or what food you ate and how weird it was. This time, nothing.

"Hi, sweetheart. How was it?", he asks looking at you.

You walk by the couch, adjusting your purse on your shoulder.

"It was good", you smile softly at him. "I'm a bit tired though, i'll probably change and go to sleep".

Toji noticed. Just like he notices everything else, how your smile was genuine but off. How you were fighting a frown. He knows when something is wrong, when the wrong person has said the wrong thing and when your heart feels a little heavier than usual.

He reaches out and gently clasps his hand around your wrist. His grip moves from your wrist to your hand. Both of his feet are now on the ground, he spreads his legs and leads you slowly in between them, you stand there feeling like a scolded kid.

You look away, anywhere but his face, because although you have the tendency to hold your tongue and hide, you're unable to stop yourself from biting your wobbling lips and blinking away the tears, knowing that he knows.

"Wanna tell me what's wrong?"

And of course, he would know.

You opt for shaking your head instead of outright saying 'nothing's wrong'. But nothing slips past him.

He reaches for the purse on your shoulder and takes it off, gently placing it on the couch. He moves you so you're sitting on one of his thighs. His hand moves to your calf, pressing soothing circles onto it.

"What happened, sweets? Talk to me", his gaze doesn't waver from your own. Unlike his roughened appearance and his furrowed eyebrows, his voice is soft, almost a whisper.

"They-", and this time, unlike all the other times you've complained about how your friends treat you, felt different. Maybe this time, you knew Toji would tell you to not see them again, and maybe this time you would listen.

A frown etches onto your lips. "They just- um- they said how- I don't know toji, just stupid comments, and you know, what they usually say about everything".

"And what's that?", Toji's eyebrows now furrowed and waiting.

"It's stupid Toji. I promise it's nothing serious, I'm just-"

"Just what? Hurt over nothing. You know that's not true, right?", Toji looks it you expectantly as his hand brushes down the sides of your arm.

"It's always like this, you know that", you voice breaks. Knowing that if this explanation goes on for longer than this, you'd lose it.

He then brushes his knuckles gently, almost ghost-like, on your cheek, back-and-forth. His thumb moves to grip your chin moving your face upwards to meet his eyes.

"Sweetheart, the fact that you chose a different life than theirs means everything. To you and to me. If they're still petty after all that time you've spent being happy for them, then...", he sighs exasperatedly, "...it's truly their own fault and their own emotions they need to get a hold of-",

"-Listen to me when I tell you that you haven't done anything wrong".

You look down to avoid his eyes, but he moves his head alongside yours.

"Tell me you understand."

You pout unable to process how much he loves you. How his love could make up for a thousand unrequited ones.

His thumb brushes against your bottom lip.

"Hm?" he presses.

You nod, but obviously that's not enough for him.

"Say it, angel" he says, "say you understand that you haven't done anything wrong."

"I haven't done anything wrong", your pout juts out as you talk.

"Good."

He moves your body so that both of your legs are on top of his thighs. Straddling him. You move your head against his chest and he hums. His hand now cradling your head, brushing over your hair.

"Now, what do you want for dinner sweetheart? Pretty sure the entrées were bigger than the main courses."

You chuckle against his chest and he smiles down at you.

"It wasn't that bad", you insist.

"Mhm" he murmurs unconvinced, he asks looking down at you, a smile still playing at his face.

You lift your head, "they were definitely smaller", your answer comes out in a scoff. The look on Toji's face makes you laugh as he groans, you let your head fall back on his now rumbling chest.

A moment passes.

"How about real dinner, baby?"

#toji x reader #toji x you #toji comfort #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x self insert #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #toji fic #jjk fic #toji imagine #soft toji #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #toji fluff #tojismain౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹#tojismain

510 notes · View notes

luvrodite · 11 months

Text

OCTOBER 31ST: I HUNT FOR YOU WITH BLOODIED FEET ACROSS THE HALLOWED GROUND JASON TODD

kinktober prompt: monsterfucking | kinktober masterlist

synopsis.your lover's got a secret. you'd never imagine you would find yourself running through central park for it.

cw: f!reader, monsterfucking, predator/prey, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, cunnilingus, piv sex, creampie, minor dubcon, rough sex, established relationship, aftercare, slight bratty reader minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact you will be blocked

It doesn’t start out this way.

Crashing through the thick of trees on Halloween night in a pair of flimsy shoes that were definitely not made for running, getting scratched up by the whip of tree branches and near stumbling over overgrown roots wasn’t something you’d foreseen when you were dressing for this date.

You can feel your heart in your throat, nausea swirling in your gut as you fumble your way through the woods of Central Park, moonlight thin and whispery through the dense foliage, the trees packed closely together to prevent much getting in–or getting out, you think darkly.

Your feet slam clumsily into the dirt, and another lance of pain blooms across your arm as your push past thin branches. Your eyes have adjusted somewhat, but the eerie ghostland is dense and gnarled trees and twisted branches alike reach out to snag on your clothing. They scrape along your arms and legs, and you grit your teeth with every bite, the promise of what is waiting spurring you on.

Behind you sounds crashing footsteps not far behind and you hold back a whimper when you hear the snap of jaws. You can see the slobbery maw in your mind, a row of gleaming white teeth, canines sharp enough to tear you into two.

The thick grove gives way suddenly, emptying into a clearing and you stumble into the center. The moonlight pours unrelentingly over you, silver wrapping around you in a mockery of a lover’s embrace–you do not feel safe, but exposed and bare. You feel desperate as you step further into the glade, pine rustling beneath your feet. The air has suddenly grown very still, and you can no longer hear the heavy steps of your pursuer. You track the treeline, eyes straining peering into the darkness. Only shadowy outlines, ever shifting and curling, peer back.

Seconds pass. Not a bird’s call, or the snap of a twig reach your ears. Only your heart, thundering in its cage. You turn on your heel, circling as you try to determine which direction to go.

And then–there. Opposite the direction you had come from (how had he gotten there so fast?) twin rings of green peer at you through the black, flashing red for the briefest moment. You freeze, staggering back and willing your legs to move faster. They carry you right back where you entered, bursting back into the dark and blinding you momentarily once more.

It is a mistake.

You round a tree and before your foot has landed behind you, large, claw tipped hands are circling around you. Your scream rings into the trees and you struggle in vain against the large body that topples you to the ground.

A mouth presses to your jaw, teeth scraping against the skin, and in your ear a voice growls,

“Caught you.”

An assortment of colourful flowers greet you when you open your apartment door, and you look from them to the face behind them, gasping delightedly.

“Are these for me?”

“Hello to you, too, sweetheart,” Jason mutters wryly, but the smile on his face is fond and you move back to let him inside, accepting the bouquet happily. “Yes, these are for you.”

You coo, pressing your nose to the petals and delighting in the silk soft feel, breathing in.

“Jason, they’re gorgeous. Thank you.” Adjusting them in your arm, you lean up to kiss his jaw affectionately. You trace the bloom of red on his face with a smile, and look back down to the flowers. “What’s the occasion?”

“There’s gotta be an occasion?” he jokes and you roll your eyes, moving further into the apartment to find a vase. He follows on your heels into the kitchen, opening the cabinet for you and retrieving the pretty glass blue vase you’re so fond of as he explains. “I wanted to say sorry. I know I’ve not been around as much lately–”

Ah.

You had only been seeing Jason for a few months now. Enough to have grown fond of him, and miss him in the moments in between, but not very long in the grand scheme of things.

To his credit, Jason was wonderful. He opened doors and pulled out chairs. He’d even offered you his jacket when you’d been unprepared for the weather, and in such a gallant display that you’d wondered who exactly had raised him. He did all the right things, and unthinkingly.

It was unexpected, the gentleness with which he handled you. It was always sweet presses of his mouth to yours, unassuming and chaste, the careful intertwining of fingers or an arm around your waist in a busy crowd. Never harsh, never obtrusive or demanding. It had been shocking in the beginning, that such a powerfully built man–all hard lines, strong muscle ad scar-flecked–should be so… docile.

You felt rather as though you’d gained an tamed doberman. Walking down the street with him, you received no shortage of looks, wary and otherwise. You didn’t know how to explain to the curious passersby that your boyfriend couldn’t hurt a fly. The most aggression you’d ever seen him express had been against a stubborn vegetable that evaded his fork, for crying out loud.

But…

Sometimes, and only sometimes, you swore there was something in his eyes. It had always felt like a trick of the light, looking over to your boyfriend in the middle of something only to find him watching you already, lips parted and something eerily like hunger in his eyes. It was there one moment, and gone the next, expression relaxing into a familiar affectionate grin.

The only problem you really had was the disappearances.

You weren’t a clingy girlfriend. You weren’t. Perhaps, occasionally, you sought out Jason’s company more, but you felt fairly comfortable in your assessment that you were (mostly) well adjusted enough to not mind being around him all the time.

But every month, for a few days, he would become totally unreachable. You would be hard pressed to receive even a text from him, let alone a phone call or visit. The first time it had happened was in the beginning stages of your relationship, when things were sparkly new and still tentative, so you’d brushed it off as him not wanting to seem too overeager.

And he’d seemed so sorry about it, looking so worn when he’d shown up at your door to explain. Work, he’d cited, and you’d believed it. Why wouldn’t you? He had looked exhausted, weary and in much need of some deep rest. You’d let him in easily enough. You remember the way he’d curled his body around you that night, deep in sleep and refusing to let you go.

And then it happened again. And then again.

Your friends had suspected infidelity. Maybe he has a wife, one had said jokingly but you’d shaken your head despite the drop of your stomach, guilt curdling at the image of some poor woman sleeping peacefully while her husband–no, it had to be something else.

It had to be.

Jason who in the time you’d known him, had never so much as looked at anyone else. Who’d shown up to your apartment with soup and changed the sheets when you’d fallen sick last month. Jason who held you like you were the thing most precious to him.

There was a secret. This was for sure, but you couldn’t imagine it to be a wife, or partner otherwise. What else could leave him out of commission and exhausted for a couple days every month?

What else had contributed to the collection of scars?

“–and I know I’m here but I thought I wouldn’t be able to make it tonight, either and I know you were really looking forward to it–I was too! I don’t know, I just wanted to make it up to you.” He rambles uncertainly, teal eyes scanning yours carefully for a reaction.

You stare up at him. Late spring and Jason looks as though he’s returned from the deep midwinter. You can see the lines around his eyes, shadows smudged beneath rings of teal and his handsome face is slightly pale.

“You sure you’re okay, baby?” you ask, gently, instead of answering his question. You raise a hand to cradle his cheek and he leans into the touch, eyes slipping closed with a sigh. “You look a bit tired.”

The flowers in your arms rustle as you move them to the vase, ferns swaying with the movement. There are creases in the brown paper when you pull it away, placing the stems carefully into the water, one by one. Next to you, Jason leans against the counter.

“Just…a rough few nights,” he admits, and you nod. He scratches the back of his neck. “I haven’t really been sleeping well.”

“I’m starting to see that,” you mumble, turning to him fully. His arms flex under your hands when you place them there, wrapping around your waist in turn and pulling you closer. He drops his head onto your shoulder, letting out a heavy sigh and concern sparks in your chest. “Are you sure you’re up to going out tonight? We could stay in.”

“Nah, baby,” he murmurs, kissing your neck absently. It’s more of a brush of his lips, unthinking, and you think he might not even have meant to. “Let’s go out. Fresh air’ll do me some good. ‘Sides…”

He pulls away to look down at you, dimpling broadly. “You’re all dressed up.”

You flush at that, mumbling halfhearted protests but he’s having none of it, pressing his mouth to yours and subsequently shutting you up. You’re dazed when he pulls away, and he grins a little smugly, like a child who’s won their argument and you want to pinch him but he’s ushering you out of the door before you can.

The afternoon is balmy as you walk down the street, the approach of summer hanging in the air. You slip your arm around his and Jason showers you with an indulgent smile, one that makes your toes curl, so sweet you can taste it on your tongue.

He leads you to a cafe and you split dessert, trying to hold back your sigh when he holds out a piece of cake for you on his fork. It’s easy to feel lovesick like this, butterflies creeping in to replace the dread that had plagued you the last few days when Jason had begun to take longer and longer to reply between texts. He’s dappled in sunlight and feeding you cheesecake, and you can’t help but to lean forward and take it.

Not once does he glance at his phone during the date, lying facedown on the table beside his glass of water. You remain at the centre of his attention, teal gaze softened and syrupy as he tells you about his week, as he listens to you talk about yours.

He plies you with dessert and sneaks a kiss just to make you laugh. You look at him and think, what is it you’re keeping from me?

You hope to heaven it isn’t a wife.

The evening crawls upon the day as you’re walking through Central Park, leaning into his side as the skies above you bleed into soft pinks and blues, gold cutting through the clouds and pooling in patches of grass. You step through the rays, feeling warm in the face when Jason’s face takes on an immeasurably fond expression, fingers clutching yours.

He nudges you with his shoulder and you look up.

“You doing okay? You’re quiet.”

“Just thinking,” you offer, and looking around, you point at a grassy patch, further away from the spaces occupied by families and other lovers. “Let’s sit here.”

You run a hand over the spot before lowering yourself onto the ground, patting the spot beside you. Despite the flush of late spring, the grass is dry and without any dew. You lay down and grin when Jason remains propped on an elbow above you.

The sunlight is soft and haloes around his head, strands of amber filtering through his dark hair. He reaches out to touch your cheek with a finger and your eyelids flutter under the touch, a soft breath passing your lips when he skims underneath your eye.

“So pretty,” he murmurs and heat blooms in your face. You keep your eyes shut, bashful, but your lips twitch in an effort to contain your grin. A moment later, warmth sparks against them and you sigh once more into Jason’s mouth, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair.

You open your eyes and he’s a little blurry above you, golden and green eyed, the faintest smattering of freckles across the bridge of his broken nose. He’s close, nose pressing against yours, taking up the entire span of your vision.

“Hi,” you whisper, and his breath skitters across your cheek when he laughs.

“Hi, beauty,” he whispers back. He pulls back a little and you admire the flush on his face, pink cheeked and bright-eyed. “What’re you thinking about?”

You stare at him a moment longer, before sitting up, too. Taking his hand in yours, you turn it over to trace his palm as you gather your thoughts.

“Jason, I…” you wet your lips, a little nervous. “I wanted to ask you something.”

His eyebrows draw together in concern and he nods, free hand coming to cradle your jaw reassuringly. “Anything.”

In the distance, the sky has begun to darken further and you watch as one by one, the park lights begin to flicker on, lanterns strewn over the grassy knoll glowing orange and casting beams of light that sway with the wind’s touch.

“I don’t know how to say this,” you admit and his head tilts. “Is there…something going on with you?”

His shoulder tense almost imperceptibly and dread curdles in the pit of your stomach. Your mouth dries and against his palm, you can feel your hand beginning to tremble.

“I just feel like there’s something you’re not telling me,” you force out. A breeze rustles through the grass and over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Jason remains unmoving, eyes fixed on your face.

“What do you mean?”

You frown at him. The question sparks something in you, disbelief curling your mouth downwards. Jason stares at you quizzically, almost innocent in the wide eyed stare he gives you, but you’ve caught onto him. The muscle beneath your hand has stiffened, and his palms have grown warm.

“Jason. Are you serious?”

“Deadly,” he replies, and you scoff, pulling your hand away from him.

“Every single month, you’re gone for a few days and I can’t reach you at all. You look tired when I see you, and you say it’s just work but that’s not work-tired, and don’t think I haven’t noticed the numerous injuries you’ve been hiding from me.” You list them off, one by one, and watch the muscle in his cheek jump. “My friends think you’re cheating on me, but I don’t think that’s it, is it?”

Still he says nothing, and you laugh bitterly, climbing to your feet. Shaking your head, you mumble, “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

There’s a grove of trees nearby that line the edges of the park, the path winding alongside the perimeter marking where you’d come from and you make your way there, ignoring the lump in your throat. Your dress flutters around your legs as you stomp across the grass, pressing your palms to your face in an effort to cool down.

You’ve only taken a few steps away from Jason and it gives you range to hear the hiss of breath he lets out and the rustle of clothing behind you as he calls out, “Baby, wait.”

It infuriates you how calm he manages to sound, resigned even, as though he’s decided to come clean. Unfortunately for him, you’re in no mood to hear it, only speeding up as you walk away from him.

“Sweetheart.” A hand comes around your elbow and you whirl around, almost spitting as you look up at him. He refuses to let go of you, eyes beseeching. “Hey, I’m sorry. Will you let me explain?”

“What, you’ve finally thought of an excuse?” you retort, trying again to pull away from him. He sighs.

“No. You’re right, I was keeping something from you. Will you let me tell you the truth?”

It’s curiosity that wins out, and you lift your chin haughtily, a silent command. He looks as though he’s biting back a smile at the reaction but acquiesces anyway. He looks around the both of you, hand slipping from your elbow to your waist, and you follow his gaze.

The space to your right, where you’d both sat, had been on the edges of the park and further away from the crowds that had gathered after school and work. To your left is the thick wood, dim and poorly lit under the blackening sky. Jason’s mouth twists contemplatively, and then he’s guiding you further into the trees. You stop at the treeline, a question on your lips.

“I’ll explain, I just,” he hesitates. “It’s best if nobody else hears.”

“God,” you mutter, horrified. “Did you kill someone?”

His eyes widen and he begins to shake his head. “What? No! Shit, sweetheart, I just meant–it’s a different kind of secret.”

You pause, uncertain. He waits, the warmth of his hand bleeding through the fabric of your dress. He’s nervous, you realise, gauging his expression. His mouth curves downward as he anticipates your choice. Will you stay, or will you go with him?

His eyes shine, and you’re reminded of who it is you’re talking to. A breath passes, and then you’re stepping forward.

“Fine. Explain.”

His shoulders slacken, gratitude brimming in his eyes as the two of you move further into the treeline.

“I didn’t know how to bring it up, I had to be careful,” he says, stepping over a root and offering his hand out. You take it, gathering the skirt of your dress in your other hand and crossing over it.

The forest is greyed, weak moonlight filtering in through the leaves and you brush closer to Jason when somewhere nearby you hear the flap of wings.

“Careful?” you question. “Jason, I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t wanna scare you, baby, you’ve gotta understand,” he says softly, holding your hand. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

He stops, and guides your hand to his chest. Heat pulses through his clothing, warming your palm in the chilly evening. You look up and startle when for a moment, his eyes almost seem to glow.

“What…”

“Those times you were talkin’ about, I didn’t want to ignore you, I just–I physically couldn’t, sweetheart,” he starts, contrite. A big hand comes to brush against your cheek gently. “Usually, it isn’t so bad, but the shift–”

He pauses, and you manage to get the impression that somehow through the dark he’s picked out the confusion on your face.

“Shift?” you mutter.

“Here, it’s easier if I show you,” he sighs, and then pauses, hands cradling your face firmly now. “But sweetheart, you–you have to try to stay calm, okay?”

You swallow, tipping your head in an absent nod. Shift. Just what have you gotten yourself into, now, you wonder.

You turn your head back in the direction from which you came, the light faint in the distance, just as you hear a sick, snapping sound, and all of a sudden the very air around you shifts. Your muscles lock as you look back slowly.

You have to dig your teeth into your lip harshly to stifle the whimper in your throat. The air from your lungs expels suddenly, and you feel lightheaded, swaying on the spot.

In the place you’d just seen Jason, he–it?–stands, a foot taller than your already tall boyfriend, towering over you. He’s broad, impossibly so, and your eyes having adjusted to the dim light, fall to the claw tipped hands, coarse hair covering the back of his hands and the sharp nails that curve downwards.

You raise your eyes nervously, and taste blood in your own mouth when you spot the canines, his jaw slackened to reveal a mouth full of sharp teeth, wolfish and a warning in their own right.

Luminous green eyes watch you carefully, tracking your movements. You can see the traces of your lover in his face, cheekbones covered by thick hair and most startlingly, his ears have elongated, pointed and tipped in fur.

Your lips part and try to form words but your voice fails you, trembling as you try again.

“...Jason?”

His ears perk up as if in recognition and he holds out a clawed hand, lumbering forward. You shrink back, but there is relief in your chest nonetheless that he maintains control of his faculties.

“Don’t be scared,” he rumbles and your knees weaken at the gravel in his tone, voice deeper. It’s almost comical, if not for how very real it all is.

“How long?” you whisper, shuddering. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, blood roaring with each pulse.

Powerful shoulders roll, as though shrugging. “Since I was 15.”

“You were–” Your fear is swallowed by a rush of grief, wanting to reach out but staying your hand. You think about your boyfriend at fifteen, the photos you’d caught a glimpse of, still chubby cheeked and childish, lopsided smile and unruly curls. You think of teeth and you think of blood, and your stomach drops. “You were turned?”

“Sweetheart…it was a long time ago,” he says quietly. He takes one step closer, and you let him brush against your hair, staying still as his claws stray close. “So. Is this explanation enough?”

“This is why you’ve been going ghost on me?” you mutter, tilting your head up.

“Full moon takes a few days to recover from,” he affirms, tilting his head up. You let out a miserable laugh, covering your face. “I can get a bit aggressive too–What?”

“I thought you were in a fucking gang,” you choke out through your giggles and he lets out a startled sound. You wipe your eyes, breathing out raggedly.

Taking him in now, you feel comfortable enough to step closer, hand hovering over his face. He leans down into your touch wordlessly, head bowing and you take in the warmth of his skin, thick hair covering his jaw. Your fingers brush by the corner of his mouth and you meet his eyes, questioning. Is this okay?

He stays still and you touch his lips, your own parting to mirror him. His teeth gleam and you press the pad of your thumb against the point of his canines, light enough that he doesn’t cut you, but you can feel the danger in the curve of the bones. It thrums under your skin, to be so close to something capable of killing you, to trust him not to.

Jason allows you to run your fingers along his lips and teeth, saliva gathering on the tip of your thumb and pooling in his mouth. As though in a trance, something else settles in your bones and you slip your thumb out, dragging his bottom lip. He lowers his head as you gravitate closer and in an imitation of a kiss, you brush your mouth against his. Your senses are heady, the curtain of the forest around you drawing a veil over the both of you, and you repeat the motion, tongue darting out to flick against his mouth.

He shudders, and you realise just how large he is, eclipsing your body with his own in the dark. A musky smell hangs around you, salt and pine and earth mingling with Jason’s scent and filling your lungs.

“Sweetheart, we can’t,” he rasps. At your waist, you feel the brush of talons against your thin dress and the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. Still, you press further into his embrace.

“Why not?”

“‘S…’s different,” he pants when you touch his chest. “Don’t wanna hurt you…might lose control.”

“I trust you,” you tell him, looking at him through your lashes and he groans, dropping his head to your neck, breathing in deeply.

“Don’t–fuck, don’t say that, sweetheart,” he pleads, a voice lowering dangerously.

“I just want to make you feel better,” you run your hand up to his neck, a few inches away from where a recently healed scar curves around him. “You were all alone, and I didn’t know. Let me make you feel good.”

He gasps, wrenching himself away and you watch his pupils expand, onyx swallowing green until only a sliver remains. His hands curl into fists, and he shudders, head dropping to take a breath before he looks up at you and gasps,

“Run.”

Jason hauls you into his arms and you scream, only for a large hand to clap over your mouth as he carries you back to the glade, moonlight pouring over the both of you. You squirm but his arms are leaden around you, tight and unforgiving. Above you is the sound of his ragged breathing and you chance a look upwards to find saliva tipped fangs, the hunger in his eyes only an amplified version of all the secret glances you’d caught before.

He lowers you both down to the ground, and you try to crawl away but are immediately wrestled back, pinned to the grass and caged in by his large form. Your dress is long past salvageable, and you can feel the earth smudge into your arms as he lowers his mouth to yours, tongue laving against your neck where your exertion has left traces of sweat. You squirm, and his hips only press further into you, a thick bulge against your stomach that has your mouth drying.

Teeth snap against your neck, dangerous and warning, and yet you find your whimpers not entirely spurred on by fear, tilting your head to bare the skin to him.

“Don’t.” The warning is issued so strictly, no room left for argument that you look back to him obediently and he snuffles at your jaw, nipping as gently as he can. Small sparks of pain bloom in his wake, and you wiggle under him.

He snarls again, and you exhale tremulously when he jostles you. “Behave.”

You bite your lip, a grin threatening to break free. Adrenaline rushes through your veins and your heart races in your ears as you lean your face up to his and whisper,

“Make me.”

A deafening silence follows in the wake of your words, not for the first time tonight, but it’s of a different kind. The air trembles with the weight of what is to come, and Jason blinks once, then twice, before his eyes narrow and his maw curls up into a snarl then–

You’re manhandled onto your stomach before you can think, hips pulled up and a hand pressing to the small of your back to press your chest into the dirt. Your gasp is swallowed by the sound of fabric, your skirts tugged up viciously and underwear tugged off without a second thought, baring your pussy to him.

A second passes, and your legs tremble under your weight, anticipation turning your blood molten. And then a warm, wet tongue is pressed flat against your cunt, and you buckle forward, a scream caught in your throat as Jason begins to feast on you in earnest. He’s savage and messy in his movements, lashes of his tongue unforgiving against your clit and folds, growls rumbling in his chest as his laves at your heat.

Your moans ring in the forest air, hips attempting to rock against his tongue but he holds you firm in his grasp, talon tipped fingers digging into the fat of your thighs to keep you still for him. He lets out an unrestrained breath, panting loudly into your wetness. He laps at your pussy desperately, filthy sounds trailing up from behind you.

“Jason,” you choke out brokenly, nails scrabbling for purchase in the grass but only sinking into the dirt, and he grunts in response.

“So fuckin’ wet f’me,” he grumbles, sucking your clit into his mouth. You catch the graze of his teeth against your thigh, but he’s careful as he eats you out, uncontained as he is. “Gonna fuck you. ‘S that what you want? Huh?”

“Y-es!” you cry, tears trickling down your cheek into the grass, and you feel him pull away. You whine at the loss, only to feel his chest curve over your back, and something prod at the entrance of your pussy.

He’s large, that much you can tell, and you feel your lungs empty as the head of his cock pushes into you, stretching you out dizzyingly. Your mind goes blank as he feeds himself into you, every added inch only adding to the fullness you feel. Your pussy sucks him in, slick coating his length as he rocks into you.

When at last he’s seated fully inside, he gives you only a moment to breathe, leaning down to murmur into your ear, darkly amused, “Remember that you asked for this.”

And then he slams his hips against you, picking up a pace that has you gasping for breath, helpless. You can only lie there and take it, sobbing as his cock drags along your walls, catching all the right spots and sending shocks of pleasure eddying in your stomach. It feels utterly filthy, the way he fucks you, mounting you like an animal–and you suppose he is, you think absently, before another wave of heat washes over you.

Everything falls away from you. The park, the city, until all that’s left is you and him in the moonlit grove. Jason takes, and takes, so far from the sweet boyfriend you know, near feral with the ferocity he fucks you. And yet, you can’t say that he neglects you, one large hand reaching around to press into your stomach and circle your clit, tongue returning to the curve of your neck and shoulders. He holds you tight, so much so that all you feel is him. He encompasses all your senses, and when his thrusts begin to grow sloppier, you feel yourself approaching your own climax, hips twisting his loosening grip to rock back against him.

“Gonna–” he bites out. “Gonna come. Y’gonna come for me, pretty?”

“Uh huh,” you whine. Your breathing runs thin, and your eyes roll back when he thrusts next, full and desperate. “Please–please Jason!”

“Come f’me then,” he barks, and you crest with a mangled scream, feeling yourself clamp down on him, pussy contracting tightly. He chokes out a groan and you can feel him faltering, hips stuttering against yours and arms tightening once more as he holds you in place.

A warmth floods you with his thrusts as he comes, spilling inside you with a snarl and rough slap of his skin on yours. He doesn’t stop as he finishes, fucking the both of you through your orgasms, more so his than yours. You can feel the spend spilling from you, your thighs sticky with cum, dripping down your flesh and pooling on the ground below you. He pants above you, breath hot against your ear and you whine when he finally settles, coming to a stop still sheathed in you.

Above you, the waxing moon shines brightly onto the glade and when you open your eyes, silvery light paints your outstretched arm. Still on top, Jason’s hand, now beside your head, is similarly encased.

“You alive?” he pants and you exhale in response, turning your head to look at him. He grins at you, mouth still open, and you purse your lips. Obediently, he lowers his head to kiss you gently and you hum, content. “Satisfied, little thing?”

“Very,” you sigh, stretching out as he shifts above you. Pulling out, the both of you hiss at the loss, and you feel acutely just how much he’d filled you with, more spilling out of you. You roll over and look at him, his eyes staring between your legs with a look of growing hunger and when he lifts his head to look at you, you shake your head, breathing out a laugh. “No. No way. You’ve wrecked me for the night.”

He grins teasingly, head tilting as he gathers you into his arms. “And whose fault is that, hm?”

You widen your eyes, shrugging. “Beats me.”

“Brat,” he huffs, nipping your cheek and you giggle, pushing him away.

“Get off, you brute,” you squeal, and he laughs, only nosing into your space further. Moonlight douses him in silver, and you brush a hand over his cheek when he pulls away. He leans into your touch, smooths his fingers over your side.

“Gotta get you cleaned up, angel,” he mutters and you nod.

“Stay the night with me?” you ask shyly, and you watch his eyes soften, crinkling at the corners.

“‘Course, baby,” he assures. “Here, let me just–”

He cleans you up as best as he can, reaching for a napkin from the depths of his jacket, and you watch his features recede, hair softening and shrinking until Jason, human once more, stares back at you.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you murmur sweetly, knocking your forehead against his.

“Happy?” he asks, and you hum, wrapping your arms around him and twirling the hair at the nape of his neck. His eyes brighten, emerald in the moonlight and you think that he’s what you treasure most in this world.

“Relieved,” you say and at the quirk of his brow you explain. “Told you, I thought you were in a gang, or cage fighting.”

“And this is better?” he questions archly, pinching at your sides teasingly.

“Well, I can’t complain about the sex,” you say primly.

He laughs, the sound ringing through the glade, and it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

whew. it's finally here. the final installment of the lazy girl's kinktober series and the longest of them all (only by 500 words tbh but it's an important distinction to me). i hope you all enjoyed this, i definitely had an interesting time trying my hand at writing smut. i think i've still got such a long way to go, but i hope it was enjoyable nonetheless.

it's technically november 1st as i'm posting this here, and likely for most places too, which i apologise about. the last few days have been a little rough and i've been avoiding all commitments in order to wallow. this piece is also unedited, so forgive me for any grammatical errors etc. i will try to come back and edit them but in the meantime, thank you for sticking with me this far! it's been a fun month and i'm excited to get back to the requests in my inbox and my other projects!!

#jay my heart #jasonsmirrorball #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd imagine #jason todd fic #x reader #ro's kinktober '23 #kinktober 2023

274 notes · View notes