#this one isn’t all consuming now that i’m caught up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cregansdingdong · 2 months

Text

ʀᴇꜱᴛʟᴇꜱꜱ.

Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!reader | no use of y/n | warnings: NSFW, p-in-v penetration, swearing, dirty talk, sofa sex, quickie that became a longie, making-out, dry humping, Jace is desperate and he needs to take his frustrations out somehow, theres a brief pussy slap bc it felt right, cream-pie at the end, fully clothed raw dogging; They’re betrothed and this takes place at the start of the DoD, I didn’t make any other specifications cause they were too busy fucking. This is very heavily inspired by his scene in the season finale :3

Hot stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

He’d been pacing in his chambers for the better part of an hour with only his thoughts as company. Jacaerys felt useless, to say the least. Useless, needlessly coddled, suffocating between the walls of Dragonstone. He wanted to be of help to his Queen, to fight for the realm on dragonback against the Greens as was his destiny. His calling. Instead, he was made to spectate at council meetings and wait endlessly for a moment that would never come, it seemed. The ‘what ifs’ kept him spiraling, uncomfortable in his own mind, and he found his feet moving before he could consider a destination. He knew where to go. It was too easy not to. And she wouldn’t mind. His hesitance sent a bit of doubt down to his stomach on whether or not he really wanted to bother her, but she would’ve figured out his sour mood anyway. It was better to face up to himself than keep it locked away inside. The hastening of his footsteps echoed off the spacious corridors, and as if she had sensed he was on his way to her, the doors to her chambers were left ajar—just enough for him to see her peaceful face trained down on her book.

His knuckles gently tapped against the threshold, announcing his presence as he entered. His betrothed glances up, looking twice as she realizes who her visitor is. “Good morrow.” She hummed, legs tucked up and under her comfortably on the divan. His pretty brown eyes took in her room, a place he found himself in considerably often. Depending on the circumstances, obviously. And the hour. Everything was kept neat and tidied, but he could still see the traces of her, where she’d made a sort of home for herself. Books and tomes stacked three or four each on various surfaces, the tea she’d left nearly untouched on the nightstand. He loved it. “Good morrow.” Jace responded, gently shutting the door behind him, head tilted back against it for a moment, unable to hide the frustration that had grown in his own chambers. He said nothing. Unsurprisingly, the words caught in his throat on the way out.

She pats the spot beside her on the divan, the book not yet closed, but her attention had shifted from the pages to his furrowed brows. He obeys, crossing the room to sit by her without second thought. His mind had quieted, at least. Their shoulders brush together lightly as he finally manages to say something else. “What are you reading?” She could tell already that something was off with him, but still indulges in his question, turning it over to show him the cover. Something vaguely historic, he catches, but he was too distracted by her soft hands clutching the book to see much else. “I figured I’d better read a bit more to catch up with the talk of war. This one isn’t entirely as dull as I thought it was going to be, thankfully.” With that, she closes it shut, putting it down on the stand beside the divan, shifting her body just enough to face him. “How are you faring, Jace?”

“I’m well enough.” He muttered, leaning back slightly. It was a lie and she saw right through him without much else. “I just…my mother is worried. She’s trying to hide it behind orders but it's catching up to us now. All this.” He was gesturing to the war, of course, fingers tapping in his lap anxiously. “And I can’t help her. She won’t let me help. I don’t know what to do. I’d much rather be out there, making a real difference to tip the scales, and instead I’m stuck here at Dragonstone doing nothing but waiting.” His betrothed nodded along as she listened, digesting his admittance before considering her own words. “You’re restless, dragon.” There was a truth to it, despite the statement mostly being a gentle tease. The corners of his lips lift just a little at the nickname. “I can’t help it. I feel antsy knowing I have the capabilities to do something, and I’m not allowed to.”

“We’re still in the beginning of this war—and you’re the heir, Jace. Even if there was a battle taking place just outside of Dragonstone, you and the Queen must stay here.” He’d heard that a thousand times before from his mother and the members of her small council, and a thousand times he felt undignified—but hearing it from the lips of his bride-to-be, there was no malice or taunt or scold behind her tone. She was reminding him of a painful candor. His safety mattered. “I feel powerless.” He admits, frustration accompanying the embarrassment that came with the insecurity. “I feel like a little boy begging to add his opinion during council meetings. They respect me because I’m the Prince of Dragonstone, her son, not because I’m good at my responsibilities. What good am I in this war if I can’t help my mother get her throne back?” The last few words exited his mouth with bite, self-loathing and irritation cutting him like a double-edge sword.

“You’re wrong about that.” She reaches out to take his arm, her hand wrapping around his bicep as she intertwines their fingers with the other. “Your living and breathing is the strongest power of all. You’re strengthening your mother’s claim by doing just that. I know you want to fight, to do something that matters. But true power is not just grandiose displays of strength or victories in battle, it's also purpose. The meanings behind our choices. People are raising the Queen’s banners—and those are your banners too. They want to fight for you as much as they do for her, because the two of you are the rightful heirs to the throne. The Greens can try as they wish to Usurp what belongs to the Queen, but their actions are unjustified. King Viserys made his choice and he stuck to it until his passing. That is power.”

“All this book reading is making you wiser than me.” He grumbled, although there wasn’t any malice behind it. “I’d still rather be swinging a sword at some idiot knight instead of sitting within these walls looking pretty—but I understand that you’re right.” He concedes, a small smile gracing his handsome face. She chuckles at that. “I’m sure you’d be pretty no matter what, even muddied and bloodied on the battlefield.” She sighs though, glancing out at the daylight swarming into the room through the window, hand still nestled in his. The gentle touch sent goosebumps up his neck, tightening his trousers with every second her warmth continued to seep into his leather doublet. “The meeting is likely starting soon.” Her voice interrupts his thoughts of nipping at the supple flesh at her neck.

Jace groaned aloud, head dropping back against the divan in pure annoyance, good mood spoiled at the reminder. “I’d honestly rather get swallowed by dragonfire than sit in that room for the next three hours, listening to those old fools drabble on about who knows what.” He turns his body—not unlike a roll—to shield his face on her shoulder, unwilling to part from her. “I want to stay here with you, alone and in peace as we were.” She snorts lightly as he inhales deeply, arm snaking around her waist in want. “The Queen will be expecting us, my prince.” She looks down at his dark curls, twirling one around her finger. His breeches certainly tighten now. “...My interests are elsewhere.” He murmurs, annoyed at the thought of being pulled away, face inching closer to her neck until his lips press against her smooth skin. “Jace.” She warned, although there wasn’t as much resistance in her tone as he’d expected, and a quiet sigh flows past her lips. “We can’t be late. That’s disrespectful to the council members.”

“The denial of devouring you because of those ancient rats only serves to make me want to go even less.” He shifts in place, head still dipped by her jugular, hands bracing the back of the divan with newfound purpose, trapping her between the corner of it and his own scalding body. She gasps as his teeth sink into her skin, earning a low sound of pleasure from his throat. “We can be quick if the meeting matters to you that much.” He mutters against her, a slight tease as he nips at her harder this time, his nose nudged into her jaw. “I don’t need to wait until nightfall to make you see the stars, my Lady.” Her remaining restraint crumbles at that, hands coming to undo the lacings of his breeches. “..Fine. But you can’t touch my hair.” He seemed like he wanted to protest at the idea of limited touching, but that gleam in her eye meant she was serious, and it was likely they’d miss the meeting as a whole trying to figure out how to braid her hair that way again. “Okay. Deal.”

His mouth returns to her throat, biting and sucking greedily with reverence, his hands finding purchase at her hips to start bunching her skirts up. “Jace..” She exhales, shuddering at the way he was marking her skin—he wasn’t leaving any stones unturned, and they were going to show. Her fingers plucked at the lacings with success, tugging him closer to her now by the waistline of his breeches. His fists clench around the fabric of her gown, a deep grunt echoing from his chest as his clothed cock pressed into her plush inner thigh. “Gods—I need more.” Jace retracts himself from her neck, pulling her body down the divan, just enough to lay her flat on her back. She wraps her thighs around his hips, a strangled moan failing to come out as he kisses her, pushing himself against her core. He rolled his hips down with a fury, nothing deliberate about it—just to feel something, to get out the pent up desperation he’d felt for weeks since his return.

His tongue explores her mouth with an eagerness that made them both flush, using her skirts as purchase to buck himself harder into her cunt. “You make me this way.” He grunts against her lips. His stomach was already tightening with every bit of friction they could get. “Do you understand? You’re just so pretty and you smell divine—fuck.” Jace grits his teeth, biting at her lower lip. She was a panting mess beneath him, unable to do anything other than take it, digging her nails into his shoulders to cope with how good it felt. His weight pinned her down deliciously, hips still incessant and rubbing against her with enough force to make the divan squeak. It was like music to his ears. “I’m already close just feeling your sweet cunt, my love.” Jace pulls up her gown a bit more, almost up to her ribs, to watch the tent in his pants glide up her glistening folds like a man bewitched. “You need to see it–” He grunts, bracing himself on the armrest behind her head, lifting himself just enough to make a space between their bodies. The sight was a wicked one.

“Look at the way you take me.” He urges, voice hoarse this time, eyes meeting hers from above. “Soaked enough to wet my breeches—and I’m not even inside of you yet.” Her nails dig harder into him, a breathless whine at the disbelief of it all. “Please Jace!” She mewls, shivering, and he grins, snapping his hips against hers with reverence. “Please what, my love? Use your words.” His tone was mocking, teasing, and eager to make her squirm. The quiet shuffling of their clothes was driving her to insanity—and she wanted more than anything to pull it all off, but they had places to be very soon. “I need—Gods! I need you, Jace!” He was more than pleased by that, and he somehow carries enough restraint to stop himself from finishing right there. Jacaerys pulls himself back to tug down his breeches down just enough, his cock momentarily springing back to hit his stomach.

She melts at the sight of his tip—red and leaking shiny precum back toward his shaft. He was the perfect size for her; not too big or too small, and pretty just like the rest of him. Jace hisses quietly as the sensitivity hits him, dipping himself between her folds just to savor the moment. “Mmm look at your pretty cunt, my love. So beautiful.” He murmurs, his own thighs trembling as he slides his shaft through your slick. “Thighs up, sweet girl.” Her eyes roll back as his tip presses into her little bud, the motion agonizingly slow, and she nearly hadn't heard him. She braces her thighs to her chest as much as her bunched up gown would allow, gaze locked on Jace's angled face that was furrowed in concentration. She watches, face reddened, as he spits down onto himself, lubricating the way even though it probably wasn't needed with how soaked she was. Suddenly, his palm comes down on her clit, surprising her with equal amounts of pain and pleasure—she nearly came with a meek gasp of his name, inadvertently yanking his hair. “Jace!”

“Sorry. Couldn't help myself.” He grins, lips meeting hers in a sweet peck. “I want you to look at me when I slip it, love—look nowhere else but right here.” As he guides his tip inside, her breath hitches, captivated by the stretch of him and the glossy brown eyes staring down at her, hazed with lust. A growl erupts from his throat, feeling suffocated now by her walls, and he couldn't get enough. Jace wasn't one to swear often in front of his wife-to-be, but the obscenities flew from his mouth like she was his prayer, sinking himself slowly inch-by-inch. Not that his betrothed was in any better condition. She was clawing at him now, whining and squirming uncontrollably at the delectable sting that came with taking Jace. It hurt so good, and she was sure she'd throw a fit if he dared to pull out for whatever reason. Meeting be damned. Seated fully in her hot cunt, Jacaerys grips the back of her right thigh, pacing himself to allow her to adjust first.

They wait in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, no noise in the room other than their soft pants, and a few breathless giggles as Jace shields her eyes from the attacking sunlight. Silently, she cues him to continue. “Good girl.” He murmurs, starting slowly with gentle strokes that make her stomach warm. “Taking me so well, my love.” He hovered over her still, his other hand braced against the armrest as he watched himself disappear inside of her, a shiver rolling down his spine. “So good.” She mewls, leaking around his cock. Jace leans his head down to connect their lips again, tongue darting into her mouth like he owned her, his free hand taking a greedy handful of her breast through the gown. Moans swallowed down between kissing and breathing, the only sounds that could be heard were the chirping birds and the vulgar slapping of skin as the pace quickened. She could only hope no one would come looking for them—or walk down the corridor even. She couldn't recall Jace locking the door behind him. “I'm close—” He grunts, pulling back from her lips to rock his hips with fervor. “I'm so fucking close, love.”

The divan beneath them was far more noisy now than it had been when they were grinding. Jace had half a mind to let the damned thing break, especially with how tight she squeezed around him, sucking up every inch he provided. Outside, the bells of Dragonstone rang, signaling high noon was upon them—Gods, the meeting. “We need to hurry up!” She pants, thigh hooking around him, just as eager to come. “You promised this would be quick!” Irritation bubbles up in his stomach, and Jace gathers her in his arms, fed up with the thought of having to sit through yet another council meeting. “You want me to hurry up?” He grunts, although it came out as a hiss more than anything, his left foot planting firmly on the floor beside the divan. “Fine.” She couldn't make herself regret her demand even if she tried. Jace stood up straight as a board, his sweet girl being gripped by her gown as he fucked up into her with reckless abandon. She couldn't even remember what it felt like to breathe when her release came, senses flooding with pleasure like she'd been numb her entire life. His cock was hitting that spot like a bullseye, not stopping even after she started yanking on his hair from the overstimulation.

“Do you like it when I hurry, love?” He rasped breathlessly by her ear, one arm around her middle now while his right hand cradled the back of her neck. “You certainly like when I take out all my frustrations on your pretty cunt—Gods, I'm coming. I'm fucking coming sweet girl.” Jace chokes, exhaling sharply through his nose as his hips began to stutter, losing his brutal pace. “Can I come inside of you? Please?!” The beg falling from his plush lips sent a thrill down her spine, and she moaned out her agreement even after he asked twice for confirmation. That's all it takes for Jace to press her into the divan again, fucking her hard, fast, and sloppy, his body laying over hers in the desperation of chasing his release. He buries himself against her chest, coming deep within her as a long, drawn out groan escapes him. The relief was instantaneous; anxiety gone, frustration fucked out of him, and only bliss was left behind. Balls deep, he couldn't tell where she began and he ended. Silence. Rapid breaths. Stilled hips, other than an occasional twitch as they reeled from their orgasms. He lifts his face from her chest weakly, a lazy, sated smile gracing his handsome features. “Sweet girl..” He starts. Her eyes flick up to look at him, equally as spent and satisfied. “Mmhm?”

“I think we're late for the council meeting.”

#house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jace x reader #jace x reader smut #Jacaerys Velaryon x reader smut #Jacaerys smut #hotd #hotd smut #house of the dragon smut

1K notes · View notes

aliteralsemicolon · 2 months

Text

I'll wait for your love - 18+

See part 1 | See Part 2 | Part 3 of We can't be friends (wait for your love)

The only thing you’re sure of is that you don’t want things to go back to the way they were and Spencer agrees that change may be for the best.

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER This story is NSFW and contains graphic depictions + detailed descriptions of adult content. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact! You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.

WARNINGS: Panic attack mentioned, slight PTSD depictions, case details (barely) mentioned, alcohol mentioned like once. Smut (not the focus at all): making out, nipple play, clitoral stimulation, praise, use of pet names (angel, pretty girl, etc). Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 10.4K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

Avoiding Spencer wasn’t overly difficult on the flight back to D.C. You weren’t entirely sure how to face him after he risked his life for you, so you just pretended to be asleep the whole time. You even took a separate jeep from the tarmac to avoid a car ride back with him, and almost made a clean getaway to your car in the parking lot when Hotch stopped you.

“I’m sorry to hold you back, but I do need the Anchorage report on my desk before tomorrow morning. It can’t be put off any longer.”

He looked extremely apologetic and you understood. You’re grateful he gave you as much time as he has. That’s how you ended up stuck at work til the later hours of the evening. Besides the few workaholics, security guards and janitors roaming around the corridors, the only other person there with you is Spencer, oddly. Even Hotch has gone home. You’ve spent more time stalking the doctor work through the pile of case files on his desk than you have writing in the one on yours. Only when you're caught do you look away.

“Everything okay?” The innocent curiosity in his big eyes further reddens the hot embarrassment in your cheeks.

“Fine.” You mutter, dipping your head back down to the open page.

You’re never going to get this damn file done if you can’t get him out of your head, and him being barely three feet away from you doesn’t help. It’s very difficult for you to get your words from pen to paper. Anchorage wasn’t haunting you like it did at first. It was a traumatic event, yes, but alone isn’t the cause of this…block. Obviously the reality that you’re leaving is starting to dawn on you. Somehow your mind has linked this case with your departure and finishing this report makes it more official than your actual resignation.

Plus, as much as you definitely hate Spencer, you do did care for him. The shock of him almost getting himself killed in front of you is another thing occupying your mind. It’s barely been twenty four hours since then, it’s still fresh. You can see him stand and grab his satchel in your peripheral vision, he’s preparing to leave. There are a lot of memories attached to that brown leather bag.

Things he would carry in there for you when you forgot your own bag.

You don’t make it obvious that you’re watching him gather his things in small glances.

He bought extra hair clips for you to keep in there because you would often forget those too.

It’s over now. No point in dwelling on it. You shake your head once he’s out of sight, trying to force him out of your thoughts. Now that he’s gone you’re hoping to actually be able to get some work done.

He taught you chess with the mini chess set he keeps in there. You discovered that you actually quite liked chess and would ask to play with him all the time. It was also his ‘secret’ weapon to help you calm down.

You roll your eyes to push back the tears from the memories that refuse to stop playing. This can wait until you get home, it’s not important.

It wasn’t the chess set that helped you feel calm. Spencer could win chess against you in just a few moves, but he would deliberately stretch out the game so you could have room to breathe. The longer the game, the more time you had to spend focused on the moves and slow down your thoughts. You could open up at your own pace. He would let you feel in control.

It doesn’t matter if he’s near you or not, Spencer has a way of invading your headspace wherever he is. Your train of thoughts is interrupted with a light thud on your right. You covertly roll the tears away again and turn to examine the source of the noise. A mug of coffee placed on your desk by

“Spencer?” You sputter breathlessly.

“Sorry. I know you told me to stop. This is the last time I promise.”

You don’t fully comprehend what he’s going on about, not expecting him to be here at all.

“I thought you left.”

“I did– was. I was leaving, but I thought I’d make you some coffee before I go. Since you’ve been here a while.” He awkwardly explains.

You steadily direct your attention back to the mug, reeling in what was happening.

“Before you get mad, this really is just a cup of coffee from a colleague who thought it might help keep you energised if you’re planning to stay late. There’s no ulterior motive…”

He continues rambling but you’re not mentally present to hear any of it.

He made you coffee.

Even though you’ve been nothing short of an absolute bitch. Granted he was a bitch first, but the point is that he’s still thinking of your well being regardless. You can’t hide your tears from him this time. It’s the soft buzz of your name that draws you back to him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you! I’ll take the coffee–”

His panicked sentiment is cut short when you jump out of your seat and shove past him. The breakdown you’ve been avoiding hits you like a ton of bricks. You run into the nearest empty office and he runs after you, making it past the door before you can lock him out.

“Spencer p–please get out! I’m fine.” You’re pacing in the same spot, fanning away the stream falling down your cheeks, hyperventilating.

He doesn’t respond to you, instead cautiously taking your hand in his. You’re in too frenzied a state to care. He guides you to sit on the couch against the wall and you blindly go along with it, still trying to get yourself together.

You want to stop the tears, but you can’t do that until you get your breathing under control. He slowly wraps his arms around you and you slump into him, head buried in his chest. You should try to fight it, you should push him away, but you can’t. Right now, surrounded by his scent, held in his arms, you don’t want to move. It’s not something you can properly explain, but the feeling is so comforting that nothing else matters. All you know is that you’re safe and that’s enough for you to allow yourself to finally break down.

The first few sobs are loud, like there’s not enough air in the world to stabilise your lungs. They fizzle out into silent whimpers and you grasp onto the fabric of his sweater, balling it in your fist, just letting yourself feel. Spencer still hasn’t said a word. His right hand is rubbing circles on your back and his left hand is gently scratching just above the nape of your neck.

You stay like that for a while, even after you’ve stopped crying. It’s been so long since you’ve been in this little bubble with him and you don’t want it to end. You pull away when you feel the strap of his satchel across his stomach as your hand drops to his lap. He visually follows every move you make.

“You’re still wearing your bag.” You sniffle, leaning back.

“I am.” He whispers, understanding that you no longer want to be touched.

He stays in his original position; facing you, but now with one arm resting on top of the backrest and the other idly in his lap. You’ve moved so that now you're facing ahead with your back leaning against the cushions, pulling your knees into your chest. You had never found comfort in silence until the first time you experienced it with Spencer. Staying huddled, you divert your eyes towards him. There’s a distinct wet patch on his shirt. It’s less visible on his sweater-vest, but it’s there.

“Your shirt’s wet now.” It’s almost impossible to make out what you’re saying with your mouth muffled against your arm, but of course, Spencer manages anyway.

“It’ll dry.” He smiles, tone delicate.

“But– germs.” You choke a little due to your previous crying.

“It can be washed.” He’s using his comforting voice again.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

The silence resumes. Neither of you dares to move, trying to freeze this moment. It’s obvious that you didn’t grasp how badly you craved each other’s presence.

“D–do…” The initial sound grabs Spencer’s full attention again. You take a deep breath, hoping he wants to stay here as much as you do. “Do you still carry that little chess set with you?”

A small, airy chuckle comes out from him.

“Would you like to play?”

“Please.”

He creates some more space between you and begins to set up the board once he’s pulled it out of his satchel. You move to accommodate the set up, now facing him with your legs crossed on the couch and shoes abandoned on the floor. You wait for him to make the first move. After the opening moves the game doesn’t seem to get any harder and you know he’s throwing the game. You’re okay at chess, but he’s obviously a lot better.

“You’re going easy on me.” You mumble.

“Because you’re not even trying.” He replies blithely.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Like I said, you’re making it too easy.” He gently teases.

“Not that. Helping me. You hate me, remember?” You say it like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

“I don’t hate you.”

“You literally told me that you hate me.” You chuckle, numb to the hurt that sentence once brought you.

“So did you.” He counters in defence, trailing your hand as it carelessly moves your queen to her demise.

“I was angry.”

“So was I.” He spared your queen, in turn leaving his king vulnerable.

“It doesn’t matter now…” You don’t finish the rest of your sentence but Spencer still hears it.

You’re leaving soon anyway.

“It matters to me.” If he left something unsaid you choose to ignore it.

“You’re letting me win.” You whisper, feeling the urge to cry some more, but there’s no tears left.

He doesn’t make a move, bringing the game to a halt. He’s waiting for you to meet his eyes. You know what he’s going to say.

“Spencer, don't.” You beseech.

“Why?” If you looked at him instead of the board you’d see the way his eyes are pleading at you.

“There’s no point.” This time it’s your voice that cracks.

You're looking everywhere else and it makes you too aware of your surroundings. Like how the couch is lined up directly under a window that anyone could peek into.

“Leaving is not the only option.” He solicits.

He regards your discomfort and closes the blinds from where he’s sitting, pulling you back into the privacy of your bubble.

“There’s nothing that you can say to make things go back to how they were.” You bite the inside of your cheek, fiddling with a random pawn.

It’s not a proper two way conversation. You’re talking to yourself just as much as Spencer’s talking to you. You’re both trying to convince you of what you’re saying.

“Things don’t have to go back to how they were.” The squeaks in his soothing tone are starting to melt any resolve you have left.

“There’s no reason for me to stay.” You oppose, trying to make any argument stick.

“I can think of more reasons for you to stay than for you to go.”

There’s an underlying tension bubbling. Neither of you notice it over your desperate tug of war.

“I don’t think there’s anything that you can say to get me to stay.” Another baseless sentence meant more for you than for him.

“Give me one chance. One chance to convince you.” He can see your internal struggle at his request and he throws out one final plea to sway you. “For nothing more than closure.”

Closure.

You’ve spent months in turmoil over the hows and the what ifs, trying to conjure answers to questions that wouldn’t stop pestering you. You couldn’t turn him down even if you wanted to.

“Closure?” You repeat, eyes finally latching onto his.

“Closure.” He whispers back in reassurance.

“Even if you can’t convince me?” You caution, not wanting to give him false hope.

He doesn’t say anything, thinking over the scenario in his head. He simply nods and you mimic the action, blinking away the blur in your vision and dragging around chess pieces. It takes Spencer a second to figure out that you were moving them back to their default places.

“Okay new game.” You announce.

Spencer blinks in confusion, waiting for you to elaborate.

“I can ask you any question I want and you have to answer honestly. If by the end of the game I’m not convinced to stay, you back off for the remainder of my time here.” You pause for him to interject, but he doesn’t. “That means we stay away from each other, only talking when needed for work. Even then as cordially and professionally as possible. No more trying to make casual conversation or bringing me coffee or anything like that.”

“Till the end of the game?” He studies you.

“Yup.” You smack your lips together. “Til one of us checkmates the other.”

“This means you’ll actually give me a fair shot?”

“Between the two of us, I’m not the one known for cheating at games.” You jab, trying to ease the tension you could definitely feel now.

“I meant a fair shot at convincing you. As in you’ll seriously take what I have to say into account.” He discards your attempt.

“No, I know. The opportunity was just too good to pass up.”

He can tell you’re trying to hold back a laugh from the small smile on your lips. It’s as adorable to him now as it was the first time he saw it.

“Any rules before we start?” He asks, unable to hide his own smile.

“Only that we have to be honest.” You answer, immediately dropping your smile.

“Okay.” He agrees, smiling slightly wider.

“Okay.” You nod again.

When he finally makes the first move it hits you that you don’t actually know where to start. Theoretically, you know what you want to ask, but don’t know how to ask. You don’t know if you should jump straight into the questions or start with some ice breakers. Nothing is said for about four to five moves when Spencer pauses the game.

“Are you going to ask any questions or have you decided that you just want to play one last game for your closure?”

“Huh?” You snap your vision away from the board. “Oh, sorry. I was thinking.”

“Do you want to return to the game after thinking of a few questions to ask?” He raises his brow and relaxes his jaw.

“No, no, we don’t need to do that. Let’s keep playing, the questions will come to me.” You brush off his suggestion and motion for him to continue with his turn. He doesn’t.

“What?” Your voice raises and you scrunch your nose from perplexity.

“Sorry, it’s just that you’ve put us on a time limit and this is how you’re using our time?” He airs, failing to conceal his amusement.

“Well excuse me if I don’t exactly have a list of questions ready to go for you.” You narrow your eyes in annoyance.

“Why would you suggest this if you don’t have any questions?” He tries to hold back his laugh and ends up snorting as a result.

“I have questions!” You jabber, unable to maintain your annoyance. “I don’t know what– where do I even start?”

“Start with whichever one comes to you first.” He shrugs, finally making his move.

A lot of things come to mind when you think about it. The thing that screams the loudest twitches a nerve and you become instantly irate.

“Okay.” You nod, tone harsh and flat. “Let’s start with whatever the fuck possessed you on the last case. What was your thought process when you put your life in danger like that?”

He almost gets whiplash from the change in mood, his face literally reads ‘are you serious?’.

“He was going to shoot you.” He states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I was wearing a vest, I would’ve been fine.” You contend.

“I wasn’t willing to take that risk.”

“Risk?! You literally put yourself in danger for no reason!”

“I think it was a pretty good reason actually!”

“Spencer that was–” You stop yourself with a grumble, inhaling deeply.

“It was instinctual, okay?” He softly explains. “I saw him aim the gun at you and I just reacted.”

“Well it was a stupid reaction!” You whine.

“I’m not going to apologise for it.”

The glare you give is piercing, you bite the inside of your cheek to hold your tongue before you say something you can’t take back. Spencer throws his head back and sighs.

“But I will promise not to do it again.” He adds, not fully intending to keep it.

This was slowly turning into another argument, both of you shooting back too fast with your responses. You aren’t in the mood for another argument. So you redirect your attention to the game.

“Check.” You mumble, buying yourself time to think of another question. “Why are you here so late anyway?”

“I wanted to finish some work before tomorrow morning.” He replies, moving his king to safety.

“Yeah, what’s up with that? You could’ve done those tomorrow as well.” Your voice softens out of curiosity.

“I wanted to get them finished in case there were more tomorrow.” It’s not his best excuse. You don’t know what he means by that. He doesn’t know what he means by that. He’s lying to you.

You scoff, poking your tongue against your cheek. “Wow. You really can’t not cheat during a game, can you?”

“Right, sorry.” Spencer clears his throat after the initial confusion clears. Complete honesty, it was your only rule. “I wanted to be here.”

“For…” You egg on, purposely rolling your ‘r’s to prompt him.

“I wanted to make sure that you were okay.” He admits, looking away from you.

“Why?” You’re genuinely puzzled at the admission. “You’re the one who almost died. I mean, it was stupid and your fault, but still. If anything I should be checking up on you.”

“Check.” That’s the only response he gives you. He hopes that you don’t push further, but he knows that you will.

His lack of response only forces you to think about the possible reasons by yourself, using context clues to figure it out. You are a profiler, after all.

“Is this because of the panic attack?” You note how his jaw twitches when he swallows at the mention. “It is! You seriously chose to spend your night stuck at the office because of that?”

“What else was I supposed to do? It’s not like you would talk to me, you literally refused to even look at me!” He gripes.

“Spencer I think anyone would panic if they got tackled to the ground by a six foot man without warning. I’m fine.” You giggle.

“What happened to complete honesty?” It’s his turn to glare at you.

“I am being honest!” You protest.

“Lying by omission is not being honest.” He rolls his eyes.

“Okay Mr. know-it-all, what am I lying about?” You challenge.

“Seriously? You don’t remember?” His approach is doubtful and he just stares at your dazed expression.

“Fucking spit it out already, Spence!”

Any sarcasm he had geared up for a response dissipates at your use of his nickname. He’s heard it plenty in the last few months, but not from you. For a moment things feel like they never changed. It stings in a bittersweet kind of way.

“You sc–screamed– uh–” He clears his throat and rapidly blinks, his nose twitches in the process. “During that panic attack, you repeatedly asked me to stay with you. Y–you, uh– you said you didn’t think you could li–”

“Stop. Stop. Stop talking.” Your voice quavers and you hold your hand up, ears burning up. “I don’t wanna know.”

You don’t know why it makes your heart race the way it does, you don’t even remember it. He waits a while before speaking up again, wanting to be careful about how he goes about the topic without you shutting down.

“May I ask you a question?” He voices professionally, trying to make the conversation less personal so you don’t feel cornered.

You nod, moving your king out of check.

“Is there anybody you will talk to about Anchorage? Without pushing them away?” He keeps the game going as he speaks to provide you with a distraction.

“Woah– Anchorage? Where is that coming from?” You titter.

“I want you to remember that we promised to be honest and I won’t push if you ask me to stop, but I know for a fact that you aren’t okay.” He waits for you to stop him but you don’t, even though you know roughly what he’s going to say. “Panic attacks aside, your avoidant behaviour around the topic, inability to focus, being easily startled, you’re showing signs of PTSD.”

“Spence, c’mon. I don’t need to talk to anyone. I already passed the psych evals.” You attempt to make light of the situation with carefully chosen words so you’re not lying. It was a futile attempt, you know he’s not willing to budge when he doesn’t give you anything more than a blank stare.

“Why does this matter so much to you?” You sigh in defeat. “Whatever happened…that’s a part of the job, you know that.”

“I also know, first hand, that it takes over your life. You can’t run from it, no matter how much you try to.” His tone is soft as he speaks, yet you feel like he’s accusing you.

“I am not running! Why would you say I’m running?” You object with a high voice, shrugging your shoulders. “And it’s not taking over my life. Also, check.”

“Because that’s what you do when you don’t want to deal with something.” He states point blank.

“Woah– so– that was entirely unnecessary.” You stammer, unable to deny it.

“I’m not criticising you. I just happen to know you and I know that you have a tendency to run from your problems. And it is taking over your life.”

“You’re profiling!” You gasp.

“You know that it’s not something we can just turn off! No matter how much we pretend like we can.” He waves his hands defensively.

You can’t argue with that, your lips twisting to the side.

“You want me to be honest?” You murmur sheepishly.

“Always. Please.” He responds gently, wanting you to be as comfortable as possible.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I spend a good chunk of my day actively avoiding thinking about it, but somehow I always end up thinking about it anyway. At times it’s like I can almost feel…” You breathe in instinctively. “This is the first time in months I’ve been able to do anything without it lingering in the back of my mind. Can we please talk about it another time? I would rather talk about other things…”

Another time.

“...right now.”

You’ve implied that there will be another time to talk and he definitely caught it, even if he pretends that he hasn’t. You don’t even know if what you said is true, you got too comfortable with the familiarity of his friendship. It was something you said out of habit from back when you two actually were friends. Not even a full hour's worth of conversation with him and he’s already worming his way back in.

“Um–” You drag yourself further back on the couch, creating more physical distance.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it at all.” Spencer senses your urgency to leave the situation and jumps into damage control. “It’s your turn.”

“No, um, I should– I should go. Thanks for doing thi– helping me.” You turn away from him, aiming for your shoes and ready to bolt.

“The game’s not over.” He points out.

“Yes it is.” You declare, still in the process of putting on your shoes.

“You said til checkmate.” He huffs, shifting out of his seated position.

“I forfeit!” You throw your arms out in a shrugging manner, standing up after him.

“I can’t believe this. You’re going back on your word!” He doesn’t even raise his voice. He’s just hurt.

“What’s the point, Spencer? Closure doesn’t mean anything, I’m still leaving! You can’t magically change my mind!” You yell, getting louder with each sentence.

“I disagree. I think that you’re running again!” He blocks your way and yells back, maintaining his volume throughout.

“Maybe you should think less!” You suggest, still yelling. Sarcasm is your defence mechanism when you have no actual defence.

“You know what else I think?” He continues, emphasising the word ‘think’ every time he says it out of spite. “I think that you agreed to this thinking I won’t be able to convince you, but I am!”

“I don’t care what you–”

“I think you don’t want to finish the game that you started, because you’re afraid to ask the harder questions!”

“Stop.” You command, but it doesn’t deter him.

“I think that you’re scared to hear my answers because then it all becomes too real for you–”

“Stop!” The words almost get stuck in your throat, but you choke them out. “You’re wrong.”

“If I’m wrong then prove it. To both of us.” He sits back down and motions to the board. “Ask the real questions.”

“I don’t need to prove anything, you’re wrong.” You uphold.

“So leave.” He challenges, knowing that you won’t be able to.

If you truly believed that he’s wrong you wouldn’t feel the need to prove it, but you do and he knows that. You walk back over to the couch, head nodding from irritation, tongue poking your cheek. You kick your shoes off with a bit of force and return to your earlier position across from him.

“Your move.” He reminds you as you settle in.

You don’t reply yet, but move your rook to set him up for the next move.

“Check.” He smugly states.

“Who was she?”

You don’t move, examining him close for any change in his behaviour. He obviously didn't anticipate that question first, snapping his sights back on you.

“Sorry?”

“The woman who greeted me at your door. That night at your apartment.”

“Charlotte.” He replies, holding your gaze to show you he’s got nothing to hide. “We met at the library a week before.”

“Are you guys together?” You break away first, diverting your eyes to the chess board and trying to seem unfazed when moving your knight.

“No, God, no.” He denies immediately.

“I don’t know, she seemed pretty cosy for someone you met a week prior.” You don’t mean to sound as snide as you come across.

“No, it wasn’t like that at all.” He shakes his head.

“You sure? Because I’m pretty sure I saw her mark you up with a kiss on your cheek before disappearing.” You don’t look at him, examining a captured pawn as you wait for him to make his move.

“Mark me up?” He cognizes it instantly. “Are you…jealous?”

“What? No!” You vehemently deny, your voice rising in several pitches.

“You are!” His eyes widen.

“I am not jealous.”

His jaw slacks and he lets out an amused scoff. He doesn’t say anything, making you feel the need to fill the silence.

“I only bring it up because…I know you have a thing with…germs.” Your words falter because of your own uncertainty and you want to dissolve into the fucking floor.

Spencer tries to suppress a smile by poking his tongue out slightly. If the atmosphere was lighter he’d tease you about it, but he doesn’t want to make you take off again. Still, he feels the need to clarify the events of the night.

“I don’t know why she kissed my cheek, it was completely random.” He takes his time saying it, still fighting a smile.

You swallow nervously and purse your lips to the side in response. One question answered and you only have new ones in its place. Did she stay the night? Did she sleep on the couch or on his bed? Did he see her again?

“I drove her home right after you left.” He can almost hear your thoughts.

“Was it a date?” You softly gulp again, unsure if you even have a right to know.

“Yes.” He hesitates.

“Oh.”

“I wanted to try out casual dating for once.” He chagrins. “I honestly don’t know how you did it, it’s not even fun.”

“No it’s not.” You chuckle dryly. “So no second date, I presume?”

“Definitely not. I was just stressed the whole time.” He chuckles with you.

“Take a shot of tequila before you go next time, it helps settle the nerves.” You joke, jumping to give him advice you hope he doesn’t take. You can’t help it, it’s what you’ve always done. Even if it goes against what you desire.

“While moderate consumption of tequila can help relax the nervous system, I will not be turning to alcohol for stress relief.”

“Then blast classical music while you get ready and give yourself a pep talk out loud, it’s actually really efficient–”

“There won’t be a next time. For a really long time, if ever.” He interjects, miffed at your insistence.

“You willingly plan on committing to lifelong celibacy?” You exclaim with a puzzled look. “Why?!”

Spencer laughs at how raw your reaction is. He didn’t plan on giving out any more details but, with that prompt he decides that it’s now or never.

“I don’t think any future dates will appreciate me picturing someone else in their place the whole time.”

Oh.

Both of you lock eyes at the same time. This is not a road you’re prepared to go back down, even if that’s literally the whole point of this conversation. You’re too stunned to reply and Spencer uses this as an opportunity to be elaborate. He doesn’t want any misunderstandings this time.

“I couldn’t stop pictur–”

“Shut up.” You blurt out the sentence in almost one word.

Your heart’s racing like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff. You’re flustered, every part of your body is heated from how terrified you are.

“Y–you don’t have t–t…you don’t owe m–me an explanation.” You try to elaborate, contradicting yourself and stumbling on your words.

“I want to.” He reads that you’re apprehensive but pushes regardless.

“Please don’t.” The tears that you thought had dried out were building again.

“Why ask if you won’t let me answer?”

You don’t have anything to say to that. Did you want answers? Yes. Still, you didn’t expect how hard they’d be to hear. He whispers your name and you scramble to think of your next move, and not in chess. You’re unable to even think about the game right now. You want to bolt, but you can’t even get yourself to move. So you deflect.

“Because it doesn’t matter.”

“I disagree.” Although his tone is subdued, the pace of his wording is faster. “I think it does matter and that’s why you’re afraid to hear it.”

He’s right but you can’t bring yourself to agree. This is only going to over-complicate an already complicated situation.

“It’s not enough.” Your voice cracks.

“How can it be if you won’t even give it a fair shot?”

“Fair?”

It comes out louder than you intended. His words trigger resentment within you and you snap.

“Nothing about any of this is fair! I mean, fucking hell, Spencer, four years. That’s how long we’ve been friends. I mean I’ve shared shit that I thought I would be taking to the fucking grave with you! You were my best friend for four fucking years and all it took was like, five seconds?”

You sob, softer than when you were first crying, but the frustration is clear. He reaches out to touch your hand, but you push his hand away.

“No!” You choke, sobbing harder when you try to compile your thoughts. “Five seconds to destroy all of it! It makes me wonder if everything we shared, our friendship, was it ever even that strong?”

Your anger simmers to sadness, as evident with how your yelling fades into whispering in the last sentence.

“I can’t even tell you when exactly those five seconds were. I mean, I know…but…I don’t. Where did it go wrong, Spence?”

“I don’t know.” Is all he can say after a beat of silence.

He knows exactly where it went wrong.

“Yeah, me neither!” You sniffle, immediately wiping a single tear that manages to escape. “So again, it doesn’t matter.”

“When you took it back.”

“What?”

“That’s where everything changed for me. You showed up at my apartment drunk, after your date with Nathan. Your exact words were ‘I mean as an amazing friend’.” His voice strains like he’s forcing himself to speak.

Your gaze falls, eyes darting everywhere as you try to jog your memory beyond the one sentence you remember.

“I don’t understand.” You croak.

“You know, if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.” He chuckles bitterly, fighting back tears of his own. “That was– that was, uh, what you said before you took it back.”

“Spence, please…” You whine without sound, tilting your head back and chewing on your lip as a final attempt to stay composed.

“No, you wanted to know where it went wrong.” He laughs falsely to downplay his tears. “You can say it doesn’t matter all you want, but the fact is, it does matter. It matters to me and I won’t let you run from it anymore.”

You can’t look at him. Not with tears free falling down your face. You cup your hands together in your lap, pressing your fingers and nails together.

“You told me that I couldn’t love you.” You struggle to sound your words.

“I’m an idiot.” Another chuckle, but he sounds defeated. “When you said that, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to say that I do love you.”

You tearfully laugh at this admission.

“I only took it back because of what you said. I panicked. I thought I’d ruined things…which I guess, I still did.” Another laugh from you.

Spencer responds with the same regretful sound.

The irony spurs another fit of giggles amongst you, this one slightly longer and infinitely more rueful than the last. You look anywhere but at each other until it grows quieter.

“If you loved me, why the fuck would you tell me that I couldn’t love you?” You sound just as, if not more, defeated than him.

“Love.” Spencer corrects without missing a beat.

Your brows twitch up and your heart jumps.

“I was so hung up on every single part of your sentence that I didn’t know what to say first.” He proceeds to answer you without leaving much room to process what he said. “I wanted to tell you that I do love you. I love you as you are. Not as somebody else.”

“But you didn’t say any of that.” You ignore all his admissions, not fully comprehending.

“Like I said, I’m an idiot. I was in so much disbelief and that was the first thing that came out of my mouth.” He sullenly huffs.

You don’t reply, sniffling with your head down.

“For like a second, I had everything I wanted. Then you took it back and it was like my whole world had been ripped out from under me. In those five seconds, you’d given me a taste of what I’d spent four years convincing myself I couldn’t have and I just– I couldn’t go back after that.” He adds after a stillness.

After a short while, your focus shifts from your hands to the board in front of you. The game’s been long forgotten. You’re immersed in the conversation, in spite of how strenuous it is.

“I understand why you were distant, even mean, at first.” You snivel. “But after a while you just became downright cruel.”

Spencer doesn’t shy away from your gaze when you do look at him. His skin is as drenched from crying as yours is.

“I mean ‘I don’t want to see your face’? I know that I don’t really have a leg to stand on anymore, but, what the fuck Spencer?”

He doesn’t cringe any less with every reminder. He’s truly regretted the words since they left his mouth.

“I wanted to hurt you.” He reveals. “I thought you were being deliberately cruel and I wanted you to feel exactly how I was feeling.”

“Deliberately?”

He nods, hanging his head.

“I thought that you knew how I felt and were just trying to be funny or something.”

“Well I didn’t. I wasn’t.” You cut him off with a constricted voice.

“Even if you did, it’s not an excuse.” His eyes are glistening from the outpour of tears, but he still lifts his sights back to you. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t know how to acknowledge his apology at all. You’re not even angry anymore, all you feel is sorrow and regret for the way everything happened. An entire friendship down the drain due to an unfortunate set of circumstances.

“This is so fucked up.” You say with another mordant laugh. “All of this could have been avoided if we just talked about it.”

It stung less when you had somebody to blame for it. Your vision blurs and you make no effort to clear it, letting yourself cry openly.

“We’re talking about it now?” It’s almost a squeak, the way it’s spoken.

“Yeah, but,” your shoulders slump, defeatedly, and you have to pause to control your sob, “what good does it do now? I’ve already lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me in the most pathetic way possible.”

“I’m right here.” He counters in such a small voice that it gives your goosebumps.

“Spencer, too many things have been said…”

“When you first joined the team, I instantly knew I liked you.”

He chews on his lip and darts his eyes around while he contemplates if he wants to continue.

“I thought it was because of your kind nature. You were so sweet to everybody.” He decides he does, but his voice shakes throughout. “You have this gift…you make people feel so good about themselves. Whenever you spoke to me, I felt like the most important person in the world. It was impossible not to like you.”

You want to pretend like you don’t know where he’s going with this. You want to stop him, but your voice is stuck in your throat.

“It wasn’t until you bought me coffee for the first time that I realised just how much I liked you.” He chuckles again, as he reminisces in the memory. “You didn’t even get my order right until the fourth time, but it was still my favourite cup of the day.”

“You make me sound like a saint.” You finally choke out, attempting to play down the confession so it doesn’t crush your heart. “The only reason I even started bringing you coffee is because you learned how I like my coffee first.”

“Not a saint, an angel. I’ve fallen so deeply in love with you that there are times where it genuinely feels like I’m in the presence of an angel.”

It’s stated with such sincerity that it knocks the wind out of your pipes. Your eyes are widened and you’re biting your tongue with your mouth closed, staring at him with your chin tucked. He seems so confident, even with the glistening from previous tears in his eyes.

“I wanted to be in your life in any way you would have me. Even when it meant that I had to accept you with other people. And it was bearable, until…” His reminiscence only ends at the memory of the night that changed everything. “Like I said, I couldn’t go back.”

The last part fades into another whisper, only then do you find the courage to speak up.

“Exactly.” You stick to your denial. “It can’t go back to how it was before.”

Your heart is so sure of what it wants, but your head is blinded by fear. You’re at a crossroads, except one path, the path that leads to everything you long for, is clouded with a fog of uncertainty. The other path is so painfully clear, you can practically see what’s on the other side. A fresh start, where the risk of fucking up further doesn’t exist. What you don’t see is Spencer.

“Good. I don’t want it to go back to how it was.”

Spencer’s waiting for you to enter the fog. He’s going to be there holding your hand every step of the way.

“I’ve already handed in my resignation.”

“That matters less than everything you’ve claimed doesn’t matter.” He leans in, intensifying his eye contact.

“I’m pretty sure Hotch is really close to confirming my replacement.” You comment half-heartedly.

You’re trying anything to dissuade both him and yourself from acknowledging the obvious, but he doesn’t plan on letting you avoid it.

“I love you.” He whispers softly.

“Spencer…” You begin when he takes hold of your hands and whatever you had to say disappears from your tongue.

“I love you. With every atom that makes up my body.” He repeats himself with further elaboration to instil it in your mind.

“I’m scared.” You whisper back with a sob, finally accepting it.

“Why?” His voice can’t be any softer, but it still cracks a little.

“Because, you can’t guarantee that it’s going to end well.” You allow your vulnerability to peek through. “And that’s going to hurt more. I’d rather leave now than fall deeper.”

Although you didn’t say it back, it’s an indirect admission that you love him too. And it’s enough for him to fight harder.

“I know that my credibility isn’t the greatest,” he coaxes a small, sad scoff out of you, “but I truly believe that this, us, we’ll work. Because I know that I’m going to do everything I can to make this work.”

He feels bolder when you don’t pull away from his touch, folding your fingers into your palms and cupping over them. You observe the sight as it unfolds in lieu of a verbal response.

“I’ve spent four years judging any man that comes into your life, wishing I was in their place, swearing I would treat you better than all of them.”

Spencer feels the need to fill in the silence and he lets honesty guide his confession. He leans in further as if he’s indulging his deepest secret.

“Four years wasted wondering what could be, cursing out those idiots, but taking no action to make it happen. And that makes me the biggest idiot out of all of them.”

When he speaks like this, with his big, imploring eyes and prayerful tone, it melts your heart to a point where it almost hurts. The more he talks, the more you begin to lean in, opening yourself up to him.

“It took losing you to realise how badly I fucked up and for that I will never forgive myself. I know that I have no right to ask you to waste any more time on me…”

There’s no more resistance against the pull you both physically feel to each other.

“...but I’m begging you for a chance to do today what I should have done way before yesterday.”

Your faces grow closer by the second, you can feel each other's breaths against skin.

“And I’m going to spend every tomorrow proving what I said today.”

The likelihood of him changing your mind with one conversation wasn’t very high, both you and Spencer knew this when you got into it. You’re not entirely surprised when he somehow manages to overcome those odds too. You take the step to close the gap and lightly press your lips to his.

It starts off soft, there’s no lust, no ulterior motive behind it. It’s a simple confirmation that you’re both present and this is real. Spencer doesn’t shy away from the kiss, not that you’d call this a kiss. It feels more intimate, more unguarded.

Spencer pulls you onto his lap as he shifts and leans back against the backrest to allow more room for you. You wrap your arms around him and the kiss deepens. In the midst of you straddling him, he slides the entire chess board off the couch and the pieces scatter on the floor. It’s only when you feel that the kiss can’t bring you any closer to him does the lust emerge. It fuels a desire to prove that you both whole-heartedly belong to each other.

There’s no pinpointing when the switch happens. All you know is that the feeling of his lips against yours is no longer enough. You cup his jaw in your hands, swiping your tongue on his lower lip and it causes his grip on your waist to tighten. He parts his lips for you and it starts what you can only call a dance with your tongues.

Your breathing grows hotter, your hips subconsciously grind against him. There’s a prominent bulge that brushes against your heat and you whine into his mouth. Spencer grunts your name in response and then abruptly pulls away.

“Wait, wait, wait, slow down.” He breathlessly whispers against your lips.

“What?” You whisper back with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He gazes into your eyes, afraid that you might regret this later.

“I’ve never been more sure, actually.” You’re confident at first but the look in his eyes makes you pull back further. “Unless…you’re not sure?”

“No, don’t misunderstand me. I want you.” His tone rises just above the previous whisper with his clarification. “It’s just that the last thing I want to do is take advantage of you when our emotions are running high.”

“Four years, Spencer.” You lean in again, just brushing your lips against his. “The only reason you should be making me wait is if you’re not sure.”

He shuts that idea down by crashing his lips on yours. The kiss is so hungry, so desperate, it’s everything both of you have longed for and denied yourselves everytime you’ve been in each other's presence. It doesn’t take long for hands to start to roam. He traces the curve from your waist to your hips, stopping just at the hem of your shirt, tugging it like he’s asking for permission.

You rush to undo your buttons and he meets you halfway, starting at the bottom. His fingers brush against yours as you two reach the final button and you pull the fabric off yourself. You do the same with his shirt, lips remaining locked, except for the small gasps of air you take in between. It requires a bit more manoeuvring with him, but you’re both soon shirtless.

His mouth travels to your jaw and you shut your eyes from pleasure as he continues down to your neck. The stubble on his chin tickles your skin. You cup it, gently pushing him away with a giggle.

“Forget to pack a razor in your bag, Dr. Reid?” Your voice is teasing, more playful than seductive.

He chuckles, airily, hiding his groan. He knows you’re being sarcastic, but the use of his title, with your voice in this context, catches him off guard. You moan as you feel his growing bulge against your heat when his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you into his kiss. You swiftly undo the clasp of your bra, but before you can take it off, Spencer grabs you from just below the hips and lifts you up off him, gently laying you down on the seat of the couch.

There’s no room for hesitation as his lips find your neck again and he nips at the skin. Every suckle earns him short gasps and the grip in his hair tightens as he travels lower. He stops just above your breast, pulling himself up to sit on his knees. You stare up at him with a heated gaze, the nail of your thumb resting between your teeth with your lips parted to make up for the loss of his lips.

He reaches for your bra strap and begins pulling slowly, searching your eyes for any signs of you withdrawing consent. All he sees is how beautifully they sparkle when you give him a light nod. It’s been too long since he’s seen the stars that you hold in your eyes, stars he accustomed himself to before he even got to properly know you.

Gazing into his eyes, you’ve never felt more sure, more safe. You trust him implicitly and you’ve never wanted anything more. His constant need to make sure you're comfortable sends shivers down to your core. He slides the garment off you and Spencer’s beyond grateful that he’s already on his knees, knowing that if he was standing he’d fall to them because of the sight below him.

His eyes don’t falter once, he’s trying to permanently etch this moment into his brain. He hovers his fingers above your body, thumb brushing against your hardened nipple and you softly whine. He looks awestruck, almost like he doesn’t believe what’s happening. You can’t help but wonder if he thinks your boobs look weird.

“Beautiful.” The words fall out of his mouth in a whisper, as if on cue. He’s really just thinking out loud.

Before you can respond he lowers down and plants a small peck to your sensitive nub before taking it into his mouth. You gasp again, head lolling back in pleasure. One of your hands goes for his hair, while the other clings to his hand that’s already holding yours. He switches between sucking, pulling and squeezing; rolling it between his tongue and uses his teeth to squeeze ever so slightly.

“S–spencer.” A strangled moan falls from your lips.

You tug his hair, whining and moaning as your hips roll against the strain in his pants. When your motions become continuous, he lets out his own strained groan and is forced to release your nipple with a small ‘pop’.

“Angel, I really need you to stop doing that.” He murmurs in your ear with a gentle, gravelly tone.

As soon as the nickname reaches your ears your hips involuntarily buck up again, making his hips automatically push down against yours. His cock presses against your core and you both moan, his head falling against your shoulder.

“Spence, more.” You quietly whine in against his ear. “I need more.”

“More?” He echoes back, turning his head so that your lips brush past each other when speaking.

“Mhm.” You nod weakly as he brushes a strand of hair out of your face and weakly connects his lips with yours.

Even when he’s got you vulnerable and at your most compromised, he’s still as gentle as ever. You don’t feel him undo your pants or sneak his hand in them, but you definitely feel him press the pads of his fingers against your clothed clit. Air escapes through your nose in a huff of surprise and you hum in his mouth, hips jolting at his touch. He can feel your slickness through your underwear.

“Oh, my pretty girl.” He sighs, breaking the kiss and directing his whispers in your ear again. “All wet for me?”

“Please..” Even with your broken whimper you beg him for more.

“Like this?” His deft fingers swipe your panties to the side, fingers landing directly on the clit this time.

They feel cold at first. The contrast against your heated body makes you squirm and you groan in a soft, high pitch.

“What are you feeling right now?” He pries a verbal response from you, circling your bud lightly. “Tell me.”

“Good.” You sigh, eyes shut as you try to savour the pleasure.

“Good?” His voice is still soft against your ear.

“Mhm.” You nod, one arm draping against his shoulder and the other hand running along his scruffy jaw. “So good.”

“And this?” He adds pressure to his movements. “Does this feel good?”

Your hips buck again and he feels rewarded when you moan. There’s no doubt that the sound of your voice is his favourite. He especially loves it when it’s directed at him. Whether that be in the form of a laugh or your sweet moans. It makes him somewhat dizzy. His lips attach to the skin just under your jaw in an attempt to coax more.

It’s very effective. Fingers working your bundle of nerves, circling and flicking while changing the pressure, and mouth kissing and sucking near your pulse. It makes your back arch, hand gripping his shoulder so you don’t float away. He’s careful not to leave any purple traces of him on your neck, mindful of you being bombarded with questions from your colleagues.

“I love how reactive you are, Angel. You sound divine– fuck.” He can’t help the grunt that escapes him. “You are divine.”

His touch alone is enough to make you feel electric, but the sweet nothings he’s whispering in your ear will be what send you over the edge. It’s a foreign feeling, being reminded that he values you for more than just your body. Just under an hour ago you had incredibly high walls built around you and none of them are left standing as you exposed under him.

Spencer’s not the first man to touch you, but he is the first that loves you. It’s something you’re not at all used to and it feels as overwhelming as it does good. It transcends the want, no, the need for the man on top of you beyond lust or love. You plan to show him just how strong that need is tonight.

The carpeted floor is littered with your clothes, carelessly thrown around and tiny chess pieces scattered around the abandoned chess board. Spencer’s comfortably lying on the couch, facing the ceiling and you’re lying directly on top of him with your face buried in his neck.

You run your fingers back and forth along his jaw, scratching his beard in slow streaks. He’s enveloped you in his arms, one around your lower back and the other playing with your hair. It doesn’t feel as peaceful as it seems, both of you are afraid of being the first to speak. You know you can’t stay like this forever and you decide to bite the bullet.

“Spencer?”

You only get silence from his end. You know he’s awake because his motions in your hair don’t stop. You push yourself up to face him, trying to study his face. The sudden movement brings him back from wherever he was zoned out to.

“Hm?” His features jump.

Does he regret it?

“What’s wrong?” Your voice shakes from worry. “You have this look on your face.”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just thinking.”

“About…?”

“How bad we are at communicating.” He chuckles. “It’s concerning when you think about how all we ever do is talk.”

Hearing this makes you snort and you fall into him again. It sends both of you into a short fit of laughter.

“Oh that’s promising for the success of this relationship.” You giggle, sarcasm evident.

Hearing relationship makes Spencer inhale sharply.

“So you’re staying?”

“Well obviously, Dingbat.” You scoff playfully at the question and shift upright, straddling him. “But we really do need to get better at the communication thing for this to work.”

Spencer mounts his weight on his hands by either side of him and pushes himself up to you, stealing a deep kiss.

“Yes, we absolutely do.” He whispers, breaking away for only a second.

The kisses fizzle in you a plethora of smaller kisses.

“Spencer, I’m– serious.” You voice in between, loosely draping your arms on his shoulders.

“I am too.” He says in a hushed tone as he pulls away.

“I want to take it– this,” you motion between the two of you with your finger, “us, slow. Not four years slow, but, like, by a couple of months at the very least.”

“Okay.” He agrees, his eyes scouring your face with complete adoration. It’s not ideal, but he understands where you’re coming from.

“That means that we start again. Romantically. We have to talk about a lot of things first.”

He shifts his body out from under you, resting his back properly against the couch and pulls you back into his lap in one swift motion. Both of his hands graze from your shoulder to your wrist.

“How about…you come over this weekend,” He suggests, wrapping his arms around your waist for a hug, “we’ll do snacks, a movie, maybe an actual game of chess.”

“That sounds like a date.” You wrap your arms around his neck to return the gesture and lean your forehead against his.

“It’s not a date. Not yet, anyways.” He whispers. “I’m asking you to come over this weekend so we can talk about things properly, because frankly, I don’t think either of us is in the right headspace for it right now.”

“Should I be offended at that?” You giggle, not entirely sure what he’s alluding to.

“No!” He snorts with a high tone. “Dopamine aside, our Norepinephrine and Serotonin levels are too high right now for us to have a proper conversation about this.”

“I’m not saying that you’re wrong, because you’re not, but I also think you’re just using science to try and confuse me, so that I agree to wherever this speech is heading.”

“It’s times like this where your attentiveness puts me at a disadvantage, because this tactic has a hundred percent success rate on everybody else.” He grins and you chuckle, both leaning in for another kiss.

“Can we hold off on starting over? Just for tonight.” He reluctantly voices, not wanting to push any boundaries.

You draw back and raise your eyebrows with your eyes widened.

“Spence, I have waited for years for this. You’re insane if you think I’m giving that up without relishing in it for at least a night. We’re not starting over until we’re both officially back on the clock.”

“Okay.” He heaves from relief, leaning in for another kiss, but quickly withdraws with a new question. “Don’t you think the team’s going to be suspicious when we’re not fighting tomorrow?”

“Forget them, what am I gonna say to Hotch when I ask to withdraw my resignation?” You huff out a tiny groan. “He’s gonna hate me for all this paperwork.”

Paperwork reminds you why you’re here to begin with. You audibly gasp, jumping off Spencer and scrambling to put your clothes back on.

“Fuck! Spencer, get dressed!”

Spencer doesn’t share your panic, but adheres to your demand. You mutter a continuous line of obscenities as you throw on your clothes and when you don’t seem to be getting calmer, he intervenes.

“Hey, hey, hey!” He coos as he steps towards you, still undressed on the upper-half. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that we’ve been here for hours!” You shriek, now fully dressed.

You push past Spencer and grab his shirt, deciding that he was too slow on his own. He lets you dress him as he probes further.

“That’s okay. No one’s going to notice this late.”

“No– Spence–” You sigh, throwing your head back. “In less than four hours, Hotch is going to walk into his office expecting the Anchorage report on his desk. I’ve barely been able to get half of it done in weeks, how am I going to finish it in four hours?”

You shake your head and begin working on his buttons. He grabs your wrists, urging you to look at him.

“You’ll have it done in less than one. I’ll help you!” His voice is light, airy, soft and accompanied with a chuckle.

“Spencer, you’ve already been here later than you need to be. It’s okay–”

“Let me help you.” He resorts to pleading, releasing your wrists and cupping your face.

You don’t have it in you to argue, his eyes staring back at you with sincerity. He wants to help. There’s no point in pushing him away, because as scared as you are about being too vulnerable with your trauma from that case, you trust him wholeheartedly. You know he won’t push for more than what you choose to share right now.

“Okay.” You nod and smile into the kiss he leans in for after the confirmation.

“Okay. Now, you go and start some coffee.” he instructs softly with a wide grin, waving to the scattered chess ensemble. “ I’m going to clean up here and join you.”

“I love you!” You lean for another kiss and hushedly exclaim as you break away, receding towards the door.

It’s Spencer’s turn to lose his breath. He’s affirmed his love for you countless times tonight and this is the first time you’ve verbally reciprocated it. He knows that it won’t be the last time either. That, to him, makes him the luckiest man in the world. He stops you from going any further by your arm and gently yanks you in his direction, crashing his lips with yours.

“I love you too.” He whispers after the kiss, letting you go.

Heat rises in your face again and you struggle to hide a huge dopey smile, one that Spencer has too. You’re floating on cloud nine, finally out of the blurry hurricane you’ve endured for months. There’s still a lot of things that you need to work out, but the thought of them doesn’t make you feel dread like it once did.

"One word frees us of all the weight and pain in life. That word is Love." - Socrates

Spoilers: Yapperoni (so much dialog in this chapter), BAU! Reader, enemies (kinda) to lovers, hurt, comfort, love confessions (they might be a little too sappy, idk, I was sleep deprived), the praise made me giddy at some point, smut but I edge you by not writing out everything, happy ending.

AN - I have a little tiny fear that people (me) will nawt (I don’t) fuck with this monstrosity, but out of all my drafts, this felt like the most natural course of action. I thought it would be really fun to go from friends to enemies to lovers. Now, literally nobody talk to me about writing fics after this. Uni’s started, so I’ll be very inconsistent for a bit. Casual reminder: I am not Spencer Reid. I don’t have an IQ of 187. Any facts I make him spew could very well be bull-shit and he only spews them for the purpose of the story. I also have no knowledge of how the FBI works and lack a ton of common sense. A lot of things were made up for the purpose of this story.

A comment today keeps semicolon away (from showing up to your house and eating all your snacks).

Thank you for reading!

902 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 16 days

Text

Just Friends: Isn't It Fun?

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: You make a new friend.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You hum as you come up the walk of your building. It isn’t in the best location. In the dark, it’s scarier as a shadow overhangs the door beneath the awning. You reach into your knapsack, hanging from one shoulder, as you eke out the tune to Easy Street offkey.

As your keys jingle, a shape pops out of the bushes and you scream, throwing the keyring as you turn to sprint back down the pavement. You’re caught from behind as a familiar chuckle rolls up into the moonlit sky. You grunt and elbow Bucky as you realise the trick he’s pulled.

“Ah, why would you do that?” You wriggle until he lets you go.

You face him and try to snarl but you’re so relieved it’s just him, you can’t help but smile.

“Just having some fun. At your expense,” he chuckles and bends to pick up the keys. “Can I give you some advice, dreamy?” He raises your keys and holds them so one points between his fingers. “Keep your keys out, hold em like this and if some creep jumps out of the bushes, stab em good.”

“Stab-- Buck,” you shake your head. “I can’t do that.”

“You can if it’s life or death,” he swings the keys around to hang from his thick fingers, “here.”

“What-- what are you even doing here?”

“Huh. You didn’t let me ask my question first,” he huffs as he stands back and waves you past. “Why didn’t you tell me you were working late?”

“Well, firstly, you got lots going on,” you say. “And I didn’t think of it. I’m fine.”

“Fine, I could be a real bad guy waiting for you out here in the dark,” he taunts.

“But you’re not. So now my turn, why are you here?”

“Well, I was wandering by on my way to see a Buster Keaton marathon and thought maybe you’d be up for it...”

“Tonight? Right now?”

“I see,” he grabs the door as you opens it and holds it, “you’re too busy. Or maybe you’re too good for me.”

You enter and he follows. It’s that familiarity that you just sort of fell into with him. He’s like a wise big brother, even if he really is older than your grandpa. It’s the most unexpected bonds that are the strongest.

“No, not at all, Mr. Hero,” you climb the stairs as he stays a step behind, his hand on the railing right by yours.

“Ugh, why doesn’t this place have an elevator?” He whines.

“I thought the serum would give you extra strong legs,” you toss over your shoulder.

“Whatever.” He clucks, “so how about it? You wanna fall asleep in the theatre with me, dreamy?”

“Dream-- why do you call me that?” You head down towards your door.

“You got your head in the clouds. Also, when you watch movies, you get this look in your eyes, like you’re living on screen. Dreamy. See.” He explains.

“Mm,” you grumble.

“You don’t like it? I put up with Buckaroo.”

“That was once and it was a slip-up,” you unlock your door. “Fine, I’ll go with you since you don’t have any other friends.”

“I have friends.”

“Sure you do,” you snort and turn to give him a playful wink. You put your keys and bag down on the tall table. “You and Cap, the superfriends. Heroes and buddies til the end—whoa!”

You hit the shoe rack and stumble, landing on your ass. Bucky is quick enough to save you but he doesn’t. He watches smugly and cackles as your cheeks burn up.

“Not funny,” you pout.

“Oh, it is very funny,” he approaches and offers his hand. “How’s that humble pie taste?”

“Fine. I was being a meanie. I admit it but you got my adrenaline up. I can’t help it.”

“Ha, yeah, that was good. You shoulda seen the look on your face. And that noise you made.” He hauls you up as his vibranium thumb rubs between your knuckles. “Ayeeeee!”

“I don’t sound like that.”

“You do.” He grins. You scowl and he laughs again. “You know I love that face. The day you actually get mad at me, I’ll be down on my knees, dreamy.”

“Ugh, you are such a...” you let the sentence trail off and the dimple stays in in his cheek as he crosses his arms.

“I’m a what?”

“Nothing.”

“No, say it,” he goads.

“No.”

“Come on, I can handle it. You know, I got hit by a truck the other day, I think I can take a few words.”

“Hit by a truck? Bucky?” You squeal. “Are you okay?”

“Ah, look at me. I’m fine. Not a scratch. That you can see,” he shrugs. “So what am I? Tell me.”

“No,” you turn your nose up.

“Say it. You’ll feel better.”

“It’s... not nice.”

“Come on,” he unfolds his arms and flutters his fingers at you, “I am trained in torture.”

“No,” you grab his hands, his skin rough, “no tickles.”

“So, tell me.”

“Not fair,” you struggle to keep his hands away from your sides.

“Almost...” he wiggles his fingertips a half-inch from your middle.

“Brat! You’re a brat!” You step back, out of his reach. “Okay, and if you keep being one, you can go to the movies alone.”

He laughs and grips his hips in victory, “wow, you know, I’ve actually never got that one. Creative.”

“Right, well, I can’t sit in the theatre in this get-up,” you look down at your frilly plaid overall dress and white blouse.

“I didn’t get to mention that yet. It’s a choice, as the young ones say.”

You cringe, “it’s my work uniform.”

“Uniform?” He squints.

“Don’t, okay? I get enough guff from the customers.”

“Guff? Oh, that’s language I understand.”

“Ergh,” you stomp your foot. “You are so... so... old.”

You turn and march away. He laughs and you turn into your bedroom. He just loves to tease you and despite your efforts, he always gets to you. At least he’ll have to be quiet during the movie.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #series #just friends #drabble #mcu #marvel #winter soldier #captain america #avengers

207 notes · View notes

st4rrth0ughts · 7 months

Text

Ok I know I said I’m taking a break but I’m going to just dump this idea and expand on it soon, warnings below

Reader is aven’s bodyguard, mentions of dead body, death, a bit of a word vomit, and a sfw brainrot (I know, shocking, Im writing on the train anyways) probably ooc aven? Prodding at the hsr 2.1 leaks (if ykyk), I’m not in my computer so no more yellow text T-T

Aventurine peeking into your dreams through that phone in the Penacony dreamscape, only to see you, his precious bodyguard, always so stoic and unemotional, breathing hard, in the ‘real’ dreamscape, desperately yelling his name.

but the feelings of happiness, the feeling that he was important to someone, goes away the moment he sees you mortified, staring at his dead body. He wants to just jump into the dream, hold you and tell you it’s alright, seeing the look of panic, desperation and pure agony in your eyes makes his heart shatter. He would never make you cry, and he certainly wouldn’t want to in your own dream, where it’s supposed to be relaxing.

nothing much he can do about it when he stares at the dream playing out in shock, when your begging, begging for him to wake up, praying to the Amber Lord himself that this dammed nightmare would end soon, and that you would see him alive and well again.

Aventurine has never known how to receive from anyone. All his life, it was him giving, since childhood to his current age as Senior Manager of the IPC. The fact you, on a daily basis, already sacrifice so much for him, your time, freedom, even your own safety, bearing cuts, wounds while Aventurine remains perfectly unharmed was a foreign concept he still struggles to comprehend.

the fact that in a dream state, where your supposed to be happy, thinking about something else, no, even in your dream, it revolves around him. As much as he wanted to be smug and shit and be proud he was the main priority in your life, seeing you quietly sob as you hold the dead body of his doesn’t sit right with him. Never in 700 years. (See what I did there)

the dream ends, and the caller cuts off the call before he can even say anything. He walks aimlessly through Penacony, the dream replaying in his mind.

You crying. You holding him close. Of course, close contact wasn’t exactly unheard of between you two, you always did keep a eye on him, mostly during gambling sessions because of jealous competittors, he can’t count the number of times you pounced on someone for trying to attack him, but to be still cannot wrap his head around the fact that he was so important to you that he was quite literally on your mind even unconscious.

He hears footsteps, and your just right behind him. He always questions and teases you about how fast you can clear up your appearance after it gets disheveled, but he doesn’t say anything as he stares at your slightly trembling hands.

“Apologies for being late, sir. I was caught up in the dreamscape.”

Stop apologising, he wants to yell. You just had one of the most horrific nightmares in your life and your apologising for being late?! He grabs you and pulls you close. Sometimes he wishes he was taller so he could bury you in his chest and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, but feeling your chest in his face isn’t that bad either.

“I’m staying here. I won’t leave you, never did and never will.”

You run your hands through his hair. It’s not just the nightmare, it was the fact you were trying to find him, and overheard his plan to be a sacrifice to reveal The Family’s secrets to the universe. But you can’t tell him that for now, he’ll be sure to make changes so that you can’t interfere and be a self sacrificing idiot (as he puts it).

So you simply nod, thank the Amber Lord that you have those sunglasses that hide your bloodshot eyes as you let yourself be consumed by his lie of forever.

“Likewise, sir.”

#dom male reader #dom reader #dom gn reader #sub character #sub honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #star rail aventurine #sub aventurine #hsr leaks #hsr spoilers #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader

526 notes · View notes

dolcettamagica · 6 months

Text

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐍𝐨 𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬

rick sanchez x reader

anon request: please i can request literally anything with rick sanchez acting jealous. Thanks and if you don't accept requests just ignore this tags: sexually suggestive, possessive & obsessive rick, daddy kink notes: minors dni wc: 2.2k

Rick doesn’t get attached.

He is Rick Sanchez. The smartest man, scratch that, creature alive. He isn’t a mere human, he is a God. Whatever Rick wants, he gets. He invented interdimensional travel. He fucked a planet.

Rick doesn’t get attached.

He knows that everything and everyone is replaceable. If someone dies he can just switch universes. Does he lose something? Same thing. Nothing is unique. There are millions of versions of everything.

Rick doesn’t get attached.

That’s why when you confessed your feelings in a drunken haze Rick yelled at you. Rick thought you were at least smarter than Morty. You should have known that Rick doesn’t do feelings. That you’re nothing special. That you’re just a quick fuck when his cock gets hard and needs some easy pussy wrapped around it.

Rick doesn’t get attached.

He didn’t understand why he felt pressure in his heart when you started crying, endless tears streaming down your cheeks as you apologized after he rejected your feelings. He didn’t understand why he suddenly felt the need to reach his arms out and pull you into a tight embrace. Instead he insulted you as a whiny dumb bitch before disappearing through a green portal.

Rick doesn’t get attached.

So why was he fuming with rage as he saw you cuddled up on the couch with some other man weeks after he told you to fuck off?

A relentless fire, burning away any semblance of rational thought consumed Rick. His eyes smoldered with suspicion at the slightest hint of the man's attention toward you. Rick’s gestures became tense and guarded, his clenched fists betraying the turmoil within. Every smile directed at you from that dude sent a surge of insecurity coursing through Rick’s veins, twisting his features into a mask of possessiveness. Each innocent interaction fueled his rage until it consumed him entirely.

“Wh–Who the fuck is that–that lame fratboy on my couch?!”, Rick didn’t even bother to step closer, his voice dripping with anger. Your eyes shot wide open as you saw the tall scientists near the door. After your confession you avoided him as best as you could – after all you did live with the Smith family ever since your parents (their old neighbors) abandoned you. You never joined an adventure again. You never went into his garage to simply chat with him. You didn’t even ask if you could smoke space-weed. Nothing. That pissed Rick off even more because he caught himself missing you one time too many.

“I’m so sorry, sir. I’m Michael”, Michael was a polite, handsome young man, who attended the same college you did. Smiling, he reached his hand out towards Rick to shake his hand, “Are you y/n’s grandfather?”

If looks could kill every version of Michael would be dead by now. “You’re fuck–fucking stupid.” Rick would’ve loved to just kill that boy or at least cut off Michael’s hand, which was dangerously close to your thigh. You two were way too close for Rick in general. “y/n, who is that? Your new–new lover, huh? You little– Spreading your legs a–already?”

Rick knew he was overstepping it. He should have never said that but he couldn’t help it. You didn’t talk to him for weeks after you said that you love him with all your heart and now you’re with some lame, boring dumbass? Is that what undying love looks like?

“…You’re a fucking asshole, Rick”, Rick could hear you holding back your tears, the way your eyes started to water, your cheeks painted red. He hurt you – again. Meanwhile Michael had already stood up and made his way over to Rick.

„Listen to m–„ Michael didn‘t stand a chance, Rick immediately interrupted him.

„Li–Listen to me, shitface. I know– You fratboys are all the fucking–fucking same. You wanna tell me y–you‘re serious about y/n?“, he stepped closer, „You– Could you give her your phone and promise–promise she wouldn‘t find nudes or chats from other pussies?“

Absolute silence. This was all it took for Rick to confirm his suspicions. „Now you‘re si–silent? Jesus. How predictable. Jesus fucking christ. You think just because you’re d–defending her right now she’ll let you have– get a piece of her? You– Do you really think y/n would do that?” More silence though now Michael’s expression almost matched Rick’s. Both were fuming with rage. Rick simply shook his head, pulled out his portal gun and ended up in his garage again. If he would have stayed any longer he would have ended up beating that fratboy to a pulp.

In the dimly lit confines of his garage, the air thick with the pungent scent of portal fluid and vodka, Rick's rage simmered beneath a haze of alcohol fumes. His knuckles whitened around his flask as he gulped down the fiery liquid, each swig fueling the inferno of jealousy and resentment burning within him. The echoes of a heated argument still reverberated in his mind, igniting a storm of emotions that threatened to consume him whole. His bloodshot eyes fixated on nothingness, yet his thoughts were consumed by visions of betrayal and deceit, twisting his features into a contorted mask of fury.

Rick's movements grew increasingly erratic, his drunken stupor amplifying the intensity of his emotions. Each swill from the bottle became a desperate attempt to drown out the insecurities gnawing at his soul. Yet, with every passing moment, the flames of anger raged higher, feeding off his intoxication like a relentless blaze devouring dry timber. Alone in the darkness, he surrendered to the tumultuous tempest raging within, consumed by a toxic cocktail of alcohol, jealousy, and resentment. Resentment towards Michael, you and most importantly – himself.

“Fuck it.”

His plan was to be teleported in the middle of your room, right in front of your bed. Instead he landed right on top of you on your bed. Maybe he really did have too much to drink. But fuck, did he miss this. Your silky hair, your soft skin, your body pressed against his, your eyes staring into his. The faint glow of moonlight filtering through the window accentuated the contours of Rick’s silhouette, casting a seductive allure over the scene. His gaze, intense and unwavering, bore into yours, a silent invitation laden with unspoken desires.

As you laid on the bed, a mixture of melancholia and yearning coursed through your veins, your heart quickening in response to his proximity. The air crackled with tension, charged with the palpable electricity of unspoken words and unfulfilled longing. Despite the intimacy of their proximity, there lingered a delicate balance between attraction and apprehension, a dance of emotions teetering on the edge of possibility. In that fleeting moment, suspended in the hazy embrace of moonlight, you found yourselves ensnared in a silent exchange of desire, your hearts entwined in the delicate threads of possibility.

“What…what are you doing, Rick? Please leave”, your voice was shaking, filled with sadness. Just like a few weeks ago when Rick rejected you. Honestly as the days unfolded, the weight of his decision settled upon him like a heavy shroud, suffocating him with the burden of regret. What once seemed like a reasoned choice now gnawed at his conscience incessantly, tormenting him with the realization of what he had forsaken. In the quiet moments of reflection, your presence lingered in the recesses of Rick’s mind, a constant reminder of the warmth and companionship he had callously turned away. He yearned for a chance to rewind time, to recant his words and embrace the opportunity he had foolishly cast aside. But as the echoes of his rejection reverberated through his thoughts, he grappled with the harsh truth that some wounds inflicted by one's own hand can never fully heal, leaving behind scars of remorse that serve as a painful testament to lost love.

In a moment of raw vulnerability, Rick found himself enveloped by a surge of longing and regret as he reached out to embrace you. His arms wrapped around your trembling form, pulling you close with a tenderness born from the depths of his remorse. With each beat of his heart, Rick felt the weight of missed opportunities and unspoken apologies pressing down upon him, a heavy burden he could no longer bear. As your bodies pressed together, he savored the warmth of your presence, a fleeting glimpse of the connection he had foolishly forsaken. In that embrace, Rick sought solace in the familiarity of your touch, yearning to erase the distance he had allowed to grow between you. But even as he held you close, Rick knew that some wounds run too deep to mend with a simple embrace, and the ache of regret would linger long after your arms had untangled and they parted ways once more. So, he didn’t let go.

“Why– Why did you b-bring that boy over?”, Rick whispered into your ear.

“…Why do you even care?”

With a heavy heart and a tangled web of emotions, Rick mustered the courage to lean back and face you, intent on conveying the depth of his regret for his earlier rejection. His words caught in his throat, a silent plea for forgiveness lingering on Rick’s lips. Yet, beneath the facade of contrition, a different truth simmered—a truth he dared not confess. Deep down, Rick knew that admitting his regret would unravel the carefully constructed walls he had built around his heart, exposing the vulnerability he had long sought to conceal. So, with practiced deceit, Rick masked his true intentions behind a facade of remorse, weaving a tangled web of half-truths and feigned contrition in a desperate attempt to suppress the stirring of emotions he dared not acknowledge. In the shadow of his deception, the echoes of his regret remained unspoken, a silent testament to the complexities of love and the fear of baring one's soul to the object of Rick’s desire.

“Did you– Did you fuck him?”

“Why do you care?”

“y/n, st–stop with this shit. Are you dating him?”

“Why do you care?”

As you persisted, your insistence slicing through the fragile veneer of Rick’s composure, a simmering rage ignited within him, fueling the flames of his resentment. With each passing moment, your few simple words bore deeper into Rick’s wounded pride, stoking the embers of his anger into a blazing inferno. The weight of your expectations pressed down upon him like a suffocating weight, a constant reminder of the vulnerability he sought to shield from your penetrating gaze. Fueled by a toxic cocktail of jealousy and insecurity, his temper flared, unleashing a torrent of pent-up frustration and bitterness.

“What the fuck– What d–do you want to hear, huh?!”, Rick leaned on his hands, which were lying next to your head.

“Rick, listen, you rejected me. You didn’t want me, remember? I can fuck and date however I fucking want! ”

“No! You fucking can’t!”, he screamed into your face, “You said– You said loved me! Talking about– about undying love and now?! Now you get with s–some young bastard from co–college who only wanted to– to fuck you anyway!”

“That’s exactly what you wanted, too! You only wanted to fuck me!”

“That’s not fucking true! I– The last fucking weeks were pure torture. I fucking m–miss you! I can’t fuck–fucking stop thinking about you, y/n. I miss your fucking smell, your h–hair, your voice. Fucking e–everything! I miss your face, the–the way you nag me to drink more water. Jesus fucking christ! I miss you. Why– Why the fuck are crying even more now?!”

With tears of joy streaming down your cheeks, you listened intently as Rick finally mustered the courage to confess the truth hidden behind his guarded facade. As his words washed over you, each syllable laden with the weight of unspoken longing and regret, a floodgate of emotions burst forth within you. Your heart soared with a bittersweet symphony of relief and elation, the echoes of Rick’s confession resonating deep within your soul. The tears that spilled from your eyes were not born of sorrow, but of an overwhelming sense of gratitude and validation, as you realized that the love you had held in your heart had not been in vain.

In a tender moment suffused with the weight of unspoken truths and undeniable desire, Rick leaned in closer, his breath mingling with yours in the hazy embrace of the moonlit room. With a gentle touch, Rick cradled your face in his hands, his fingers tracing the contours of your skin. As your lips met in a fervent kiss, time seemed to stand still, the world falling away to leave only the two of you entwined in the delicate dance of passion and longing. With each caress, the walls he had built around his heart crumbled, leaving him vulnerable and exposed in the embrace of her warmth. In that moment of intimacy, you surrendered to the magnetic pull of your shared desire, bodies entangled in a silent symphony of love and redemption.

“You know– You know I’m not good with…emotions and shit. But– But you’re important to me and–and I’m not letting another man touch what’s mine.”

“You were jealous?”

“I wasn’t– Fuck it. Yes, yes, I was. Wanted to k–kill that motherfucker. The way he–he had his arm around–”, in the middle of his rant you wrapped your legs around Rick’s waist, pulling him closer. His crotch pressing against yours.

“Just so you know, I have been very, very lonely the last few weeks.”

“Oh? S–So you’ve been a good–good girl for daddy, huh?”, it didn’t take long for Rick to get hard, his bulge pressing against you, his hand now choking you slightly, “F–fuck, princess, daddy’s going to–to reward you for being so patient.”

#𓂃⊹ ִֶָ 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 #rick and morty #rick sanchez #rick sanchez x reader #rick sanchez x self insert #rick sanchez x y/n #rick sanchez x you #r & m #r&m #rick sanchez x oc

605 notes · View notes

kissitbttr · 2 years

Note

can u please do one where Eddie asks to sucks on ur titties, and he super shy about it because ur his first girlfriend but u ofc let him and I think it’s absolutely adorable

BIG YESSSS oh mannn, he’d get so tittydrunk!! also i changed it up a little bit towards the end <3

eddie has seen tits before. not in real life, though. he’s seen them in magazines and home videos and he thinks they’re absolutely divine.

growing up, he never experienced what dating is like nor sex. he never even had a girlfriend before! does it bother him? not really, but it’d be such a blessing if he was gifted with a woman of his dreams. someone like debbie harry or cindy crawford. yeah, he was pretty unrealistic about that one. i mean, don’t all teenage boys?

and that’s when you happened. soft, girly looking princess who stole his heart with your gorgeous smile and rockin’ body. he admits he was a little shallow at first, but how could he not when he sees you dressing up in small clothings that shows the shape of your perfect tits? he’d drool.

eddie, just like any other hormonal teenager, has dirty thoughts that consumed his brain. but he never really acts on them, seemingly afraid that he’d do something wrong or make you feel grossed. he doesn’t want that.

but god, does he want so badly to touch and suck on your tits. just imagining his hands wrapped around the soft flesh makes his cock twitches.

“you okay there, eds?”

a soft voice pulls him out of the train of thoughts. he blinks rapidly and find your eyes looking at him in concerned. you’re sitting beside him, with legs tucked under your butt and his eyes casts down to see your thick thighs hugged perfectly by the grey cotton shorts.

he’s definitely not looking at your tits too right now. definitely. not

“hm? oh, y-yeah” he chuckles nervously, gliding his sweaty palms against his jeans. is your room always been this hot?

“you sure? you look a little red” as you lean over towards him to brush the sweat coating his forehead, he tenses. maybe it’s because your chest is now pressing against his arm. “did i do something?”

“n-no! you didn’t do anything wrong, princess. it’s just that-“ he pauses to glance down at your tits, gulping at the sight of them almost spilling out of your cami top. “you’re distracting. that’s all?”

raising an eyebrow, you crossed your arms. which isn’t helping the case because your tits only pop out more. “how am i distracting?” he doesn’t give you an answer, only to eye at your chest once again and that’s when you realize,

“are you kidding me? my tits?! that’s why you’ve been acting weird?”

“what? I’m a guy! tits and ass make me hard! and yours are…” he trails off, tilting his head. “perfect—shit I’m sorry, i don’t know why I’m acting like this”

his tinted cheeks just make him ten times more cuter. like a kid getting caught hiding an adult magazine under his bed

“you know, just because you’re a virgin that doesn’t give you the right to be a perv” he knows you’re joking but he can’t help to blush when you say that,

“i’m not a perv! and god—you promised you’d stop making fun of me about that!” he pouts, brows tipping in as he watches his girlfriend laughs,

“i’m kidding” you give him a peck on his cheekbone, staring at the adorable boy who’s blushing like crazy as he looks at you, then a sudden question pops in his mind,

“c-can i… touch them?”

“what?”

“you know—uhm, c-can i feel…your tits?” he points at your chest, voice grows quite and shy when he asks the question. looking over to you hesitatingly as he plays with his fingers. a habit of his when he’s nervous,

“you want to play with them?” a smirk plays on your lips, toying with the material of your top, “fondle a little and make a mess on my tits, baby?”

“god don’t say it like that. it sounds dirty” he rubs his face vigorously with his hands. also to hide the blush on his cheeks so you won’t have to see. “but y-yeah. can i ?”

“you’re so cute. asking for my consent and all. such a good boyfriend” you giggle, and his lips stretch into a smile when you say that. he likes being complimented that way. means that he’s doing a great job and hasn’t done anything to make you feel weird around him,

“of course you can. thought you’d never asked” you shift yourself into a much more comfortable position,

“really? that’s—oh shit—“ he gets interrupted by you plopping down on his lap, legs kneeling beside his. hands going over around your waist to keep your body steady. “okay uhm—wow—princess, god, you’re very close to me.”

your breasts are now at his eye level and dangerously close to them. wouldn’t be surprised if his nose brushes against them.

he feels goosebumps arise on his skin when your hands making their way towards his neck, tugging on his hair to get him to look up. he whines at the sudden contact,

“you can play, eddie—besides” you halt your sentences by giving him a soft kiss. “they belong to you, anyways. right?”

eddie feels a sense of pride inside of him when you mentioned that. confidence grows knowing he’s the only person that gets to feel and see your tits. one lucky motherfucker, that he is.

“y-yeah. fuck yes” he replies almost too shyly. watching you drag the straps down to your shoulders. enough to make your tits bounce free from the material.

eddie’s cock just turns painfully hard.

“they’re so—pretty” he breathes out, eyes locked on your breasts. hypnotized by the fullness of them and perky nipples just begging to be touched by him.

slowly, his shaky hands come up to rest them on your chest. a sigh of relief leaves his mouth when your nipples graze against his palms. he gives them a squeeze, cursing under his breathe by the softness of it,

“you like em?” you tuck a hair behind your ear. looking down at his hands. “how do they feel?”

“fucking amazing” he responds clearly amazed he’s too far gone now and refuses to look at you. “god, baby—they’re so” his hands give another squeeze. “soft and plushy—do they lactate?”

“jesus, eddie. I’m not pregnant.”

“you’d look hot if you were” he mumbles, hoping you don’t hear that but you manage to catch it,

“i’m still in high school dumbass. don’t even think about trying to knock me up” you swat his chest with the back of your hand, making him giggle childishly.

“after graduation then.” he shrugs playfully and he could sense you sending him a glare but chooses to ignore that,

his thumbs slowly drawing circles around the hardened nipples making you moan softly, and hearing it almost makes him cream his pants. eddie thinks you create the prettiest moans ever. plus, it’s an extreme ego boost for him.

“you do know how to make a man weak on his knees, sweetheart”. his voice grows cockier the minute you become putty in his hands. “fucking perfect.”

he’s in a trance at the sight of you. pupils dilating at your body arching back a bit with hands on your thighs. teeth sinking into your bottom lip and eyes screwed shut. making it impossible for him to stop playing with your breasts.

you’re looking like a proper dream to him,

“can i suck on them?”

you chuckle before nodding. “again with the questions? you should know the answers by now.”

“just making sure I’m not crossing any boundaries. trying to be a gentleman here.”

“stop with all the modesty. you literally have your hands on my boobs” with an eye roll, you push yourself back towards his chest. hands link around the nape of his neck. “need a little push maybe?”

he’s about to ask what you mean by that, only to be answered with your hips slowly rolling against his hard cock over the jeans. “jesus christ, y/n—“

“come on, now” you nod your head towards your chest. “do what you gotta do.”

in instant, his mouth is wrapped around your pebbled nipple. you yelp in surprise then giggle after seeing him like that, his hand flies to your ass and pull you close.

“easy, cowboy—i’m not going anywhere”

he can’t focus. you feel so good and soft inside his mouth. tongue messing around the nipple, painting it with his spit. suckling on the soft flesh like a baby with his eyes shut, his other hand moves to give a rough squeeze on your other breast.

“fuck i love them so much” he moans, leaving wet kisses on them. teeth dragging over the skin to mark you. “you have the prettiest of em all, sweetheart—i swear.”

he’s lost in them. truly hooked. and you thought to yourself that he could be just saying that because your tits are the only ones he has ever seen. when he knows for sure, that the others are nothing compared to yours.

“aw look at that. my baby is hooked” you coo at him, who’s resting his cheek on your body with his mouth still not letting go. his soft brown curls tickling the valley of your breasts. “enjoying yourself, my pretty boy?”

you pat his cheek to get him to respond, which he only hums instead while continuously flicking your nipple with his tongue. never wanting to stop. but he can’t stop the fluttery feeling in his stomach when you call him ‘pretty’.

circling your hips just a little harder now, you bury your hands in his hair. massaging the scalp that guarantees another moan from him. sending the vibrations down to your spine and straight to your core. he pinches your nipple between his thumb and fore finger, rolling it ever so gently. brown eyes snap open to see how you doing. smiling to himself when your jaw hangs open in pleasure.

“i have an idea.” your hands turn to grip on his shoulders, giving a firm squeeze before pulling his mouth off of you, making him whine. “how about i teach you how to fuck my tits now, eds?”

he has never felt more excited in his life.

#anon #answered #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie things

5K notes · View notes

drabblesandsnippets · 2 months

Text

Sunshine - Part 5

Hot Bucky Summer 2024 - Week 9

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x Plus-size female character (nickname is Sunshine)

Prompt: FREE WEEK | [Optional Prompts: “W” - Wax Play, Watersports, WAM (Wet & Messy), Weapon Play] @buckybarnesevents

Summary: (4k) Series Masterlist Bucky’s confession tests the bond of their relationship.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Slow burn. Grumpy/Sunshine trope. Happy Bucky (is that a warning?) - he's a photographer in this AU. Mention of insecurities, anxiety, intrusive thoughts, and body image (she's a bit of a mess, okay?). Mention of weed. Internal dialogue. Use of the word fat (as a descriptor).

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

Bucky never had any intention of blurting out his feelings like this. Even as all the fragments of his plans went to the wayside, the last thing he wanted to do was spring this on her. As easy as it’d be to blame it on the weed, it doesn’t matter either way. The truth is out there now and the only thing he can do is keep moving forward, his soft smile never wavering.

A range of emotions play across Sunshine’s face. The initial look of surprise changing to one that gives him immediate hope for their future, their eyes locked in an understanding, a silent conversation threatening to bloom. And then it’s gone in an instant, replaced by hurt and betrayal, the emotion welling up in her eyes.

“That’s not funny.”

Her words are like a punch to his gut and before Bucky can process what’s happening, Sunshine’s climbing off the couch, putting distance between them. She doesn’t believe him.

“Sunshine.” Bucky remains on the couch, his feet flat on the floor, toes digging into the carpet as he keeps a tight grip on his knees, forcing himself to remain calm. As much as it pains him, he can see this for what it is. A way for her to protect herself. “You know me. You know who I am. This isn’t a joke.”

Silence consumes them, the soft dripping of rain and the slight hum of the battery-powered fan the only sound piercing his ears. He feels frozen in place, the dim glow of the candles providing enough light for Bucky to take in her tense shoulders, her head cast up to the ceiling.

It’s not until she lets out a heavy sigh that she finally turns around, the sadness on her face doing nothing to ease the ache inside of him to fix this. Unshed tears breaking his heart and it takes everything in Bucky not to stand up and go to her while he waits for her to say something. Anything.

After Sunshine visibly swallows, her response comes, stuttering as she tries to explain this away. “I wasn’t… I didn’t tell you all that to… I don’t want your pity.”

With a furrowed brow and a slow steadying breath, Bucky shakes his head at her, taking a second to quiet the urge to become defensive. In a gentle voice, he tells her, “That’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it?” Her question is immediate, desperate to understand.

This is going all wrong, but Bucky’s unable to stop himself from giving her an expectant look as he exhales, “Sunshine.” She knows what this is. If she’s too scared to meet him halfway though, the only thing he can do is spell it out. “This is me telling you that I have feelings for you. That I want to date you.”

She cuts in before he can keep going, interrupting him with a shake of her head, “Please don’t do that. You don’t need to… to convince me that I’m dateable. I don’t-.”

He can’t stand it anymore.

The weed no longer enough to keep the frustration from building, he finally rises to his feet, the coffee table separating them as he holds his hands up in surrender, whispering, “Stop.” He doesn’t know if she’s being obstinately obtuse, but he can’t keep going around in circles. “That’s not why I’m telling you. I’m telling you because I want to be with you. I’m telling you because I think you might feel the same way.”

Sunshine’s a deer caught in headlights, staring wide-eyed, open-mouthed, her rapid breaths giving him concern. Either she still doesn’t believe him, or he misread this.

“If I got the signals wrong, please tell me,” he urges, rooted in his spot, his ankles digging into the edge of the couch to steady himself. “I promise I won’t be upset, and I’ll never do anything to make you uncomfortable. I’ll even help you find a new roommate if that’s what you need. I just…” He lets out a soft sigh, emotion threatening to crack his resolve at the thought of causing her any more pain, “I didn’t want you to keep thinking there wasn’t anything between us.”

She stands there for the longest time, her eyes wandering around the room, occasionally settling on him before moving away, unable to hold his gaze. He has no idea what she’s thinking, and he’s at a loss as to what to do, other than stand there, his arms at his sides, refusing to look away, not giving her a chance to doubt what he’s telling her.

The soft clearing of her throat makes his breath catch, trying not to get his hopes up as their eyes connect again. He’ll accept whatever she says, even if it breaks his heart.

She starts and pauses several times, long enough for Bucky to know what’s about to come, giving him time to steel himself. “I… It’s… We…” Emotion threatens to overwhelm her again and he watches as she fights through it, forcing the words out, “We’re friends, Bucky.”

“Okay.” He tells her, quickly nodding his head, taking the opportunity to return to his seat on the couch, his legs threatening to give out on him. This isn’t at all what he expected tonight, but he intends to keep his promise. “We’re friends, Sunshine. That’s more than enough for me.”

With a soft utterance of, “I need a minute” she’s gone, closing herself off in her bedroom, leaving Bucky to start figuring out how the hell he’s going to make this right.

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

This isn’t what she wanted.

No matter how much Bucky has consumed her thoughts, and her fantasies, and her dreams, she didn’t confess her trauma and her secrets in hopes that he would suddenly see her in a different light. Sharing her past had only meant to bring them closer together, for her to allow him in, to strengthen their friendship.

There were also selfish reasons - to satiate that urge to lay out her past and have him comfort her. To tell her it wasn’t her fault. To reassure her that she made the right decision cutting off her family.

Bucky’s always been good at that - saying the right thing, especially in a time of need. That’s probably what this is. Tonight, with the storm, and the blackout, and the lit candles - not to mention getting high together - he got confused, wrapped up in the moment, wanting to make her feel better.

That’s all it is.

But what if it’s not?

Everything Bucky said replays in her mind, the conviction in his voice, the urgency, the need for her to understand. Instead of giving her the answers she’s seeking, the doubt grows, convincing her that even if he’s not confused, it’s probably still a spur-of-the-moment thing. Something recent that caused this.

If not tonight, then maybe last night, letting him take her picture? Or, probably last week when she joined him and his friends at the bar. She acted like a completely different person, most likely giving him the wrong impression. Making him believe that she’s someone she’s not. Someone carefree, confident, easygoing.

That must be what happened. Which means Bucky’s not attracted to her. He’s attracted to a version of her that doesn’t even really exist.

Pacing her room, her spinning thoughts make her dizzy, one jumping to the next, making it impossible to figure out what to do next. The questions building right along with her anxiety. The smartest thing to do would be to walk back out there and ask them, find the clarity she needs, but it feels impossible.

She wouldn’t even know where to start.

And would it even matter?

If Bucky doesn’t really have feelings for her, she’d rather not know. And if his feelings are real, nothing good could ever come of it.

They’re too different.

They’re barely compatible as roommates and friends, let alone as anything more.

That’s not true.

She ‘blames’ the lingering effects of the weed for the interjecting of positivity - or maybe it’s Bucky slowly rubbing off on her - and flops back on her bed, the flashlight of her phone shining on the ceiling. She’s too high to immediately dismiss how well they mesh, how much fun they have together.

That still doesn’t mean this can lead anywhere. She carries too much baggage, and he deserves a life that he’s constantly striving for. One filled with never-ending enthusiasm and spontaneous adventures and extended family. She can’t offer him any of that.

You can at least offer him the truth.

“Fuck,” she curses, rubbing her hands over her face, distracting herself from the slight tremble rolling through her body. As much as she wants to throw caution to the wind and fall into this with an open mind, she’s too scared. She’s been through too much to think this can lead anywhere except the end of their friendship.

He’ll eventually come to his senses and she’ll be too heartbroken to get over him.

This is for the best.

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

Bucky hasn’t moved from his spot on the couch, his eyes locked on the flickering candles, lost in a sea of thoughts. Every step that led them here and how to salvage their friendship. There are too many variables, too many uncertainties regarding how she’s going to want to handle this. All he knows is that whatever Sunshine wants, he’ll give her.

He waits patiently, several minutes passing that feel like hours, unable to take a deep breath until she finally opens her door, cautiously joining him back in the living room. She looks so nervous, so worried about what’s going to happen that he has to be the one to break the silence, trying to make this easier for her.

“Are you okay?”

The slight nod of her head turns into a shrug, her shoulders lifting at the same time her eyes do, offering him a soft smile. “Sorry for… running away like that.”

Bucky’s quick to shake his head, sitting up a bit straighter in his seat, telling her, “You don’t need to apologize, I know this is a lot.” Watching her try to dismiss the magnitude of his confession convinces him to see this through. “I’m sorry for putting you on the spot. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Sunshine grows quiet again, a moment passing before she takes a few tentative steps into the living room, pausing for a moment before returning to her seat at the opposite end of the couch. He can only take it as a good sign, especially when she assures him, “You don’t need to apologize either… you were just being honest.”

The gnawing panic over fixing this begins to dissipate and he wastes no time in telling her, “If you want to talk about it, I promise to keep being honest.”

The soft exhale of her laugh eases the tension in his own body and he gives her an encouraging grin, grateful to see her starting to relax, even a bit. She still keeps one foot on the floor, her body slightly turned towards him, but it’s more progress than he expected.

“Since you’re being honest, I should be too,” she whispers, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, fingernails picking at a loose thread.

Mentally preparing himself for whatever she’s about to admit, he shifts in his seat, pulling his feet back under him, his focus steady on her.

“You didn’t get the signals wrong.” Her admission comes slowly, but there’s no hesitation, Sunshine taking her time to convey her thoughts, sending Bucky on a rollercoaster of emotions. “I just don’t think this is a good idea.”

Refusing to live a life of regrets, he asks, “But not because you don’t have feelings for me?”

A hint of amusement crosses her face, a brief pointed look thrown his way before she’s avoiding his gaze again, her attention pulled back to her shirt. “It’d ruin our friendship.”

“Nothing could ruin our friendship,” he counters, without hesitation. If she’s not going to deny their connection, neither will he.

With another twitch at the corner of her mouth, she tilts her head and narrows her eyes, still refusing to give him more than a brief second of her stare. Bucky doesn’t mind, as long as she keeps trying to talk to him.

With her gaze diverted, he studies her face, his eyes drawn to her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, allowing himself to envision reaching out to soothe it with his thumb.

Not letting his mind drift, he refocuses, seconds before she finds the courage to confess, “This could. Especially if it’s… Tonight’s been… so much has happened with the blackout, and the trauma bonding, and I don’t… we don’t know what’s going to happen in the light of day.”

Bucky’s own brow furrows in response, memories of their earlier conversation playing in his head, trying to discern what he said that caused her to think this is a hasty decision, an unexpected realization that he hasn’t agonized over every waking moment.

“The same thing that’s been happening,” he says, offering her a slight shrug and a comforting smile. “I know this might be new for you, but it’s been my reality for a while now.”

“How long?” Her question comes out in a long exhale, the slight furrow of her brow signaling more doubt and accusations.

At least it’s a question he was already prepared to answer, the truth spilling out of him without a second thought. “A couple of months.”

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

A couple of months.

After learning it wasn’t just because of tonight, she was expecting a couple of days, maybe a week. But a couple of months?!

Her head spins again, calculating everything from when her own feelings started to the moment Bucky started calling her Sunshine and fixing her morning coffee. She’s looking for inconsistencies, reasons to stick to her belief that nothing good can come from this.

She can’t find any though - realizing that his feelings started before hers did, but only after he was already making her lunch and leaving her coffee - and all she can wonder is, “Why?” He already thinks this is new for her, the excuse that it’s because she has feelings for him no longer plausible, and she’s trying to figure out what caused the change.

Bucky’s soft laugh cuts through her racing thoughts and he leans in, shifting a bit closer, almost an entire couch cushion still between them. She wants to break the distance and add more all at the same time, his bright smile the only reason she doesn’t move a muscle.

“How could I not, Sunshine?” he shakes his head, as if he never stood a chance. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met and I-.” He pauses to let out another laugh, the smile he’s giving her making her stomach flutter and her heart skip a beat. “My favorite part of the day is when I’m with you.”

Words fail her, as they seem to at the most inopportune time, but Bucky’s patient, giving her a moment to process and respond whenever she’s ready. It allows her time to swallow her fear and ask another question that threatens to overwhelm her, “What if that’s all it is? I mean, we’re friends and-.”

“I don’t think about my friends the way I think about you.”

He rarely ever interrupts her, but when he does, it’s usually for her benefit, to quiet her worries. This is no exception and she suddenly can’t breathe again, her chest growing tight as air gets trapped in her lungs.

This is actually happening.

Despite the longing look Bucky’s giving her, she still can’t accept it. The trust she has in him doesn’t outweigh the walls she’s built to protect herself. Years of experience teaching her that if something feels too good to be true, it probably is.

Twisting his assurance that nothing could ruin their friendship, she grasps at one last straw, telling him, “I don’t want to be an experiment.” Bucky’s face morphs into one of confusion and shock, her accusation like a slap to his face, but she can’t stop herself from doubling down, shrugging as she asks, “Have you ever even dated anyone fat before?”

He blinks, letting out a sharp exhale, the twitch in his jaw the first sign that she’s crossed a line. Steve’s words of ‘you’ve never given him a reason to be mad’ echoing in her head, but it’s too late to take this back. Even if it was the wrong way to ask, it’s still a fear she needed to express.

She swallows the lump forming in her throat as he gives her a slow shake of his head and says, “Please don’t do that. I know the world can be unkind, but I’ve never treated you with anything but respect.”

There’s no anger in his tone, only pain and frustration, Bucky doing his best to set a boundary with her. She respects him too much to push back, taking a moment to force air into her lungs, breathing several slow deep breaths. And he lets her, even though she accused him of being like all the other assholes who have hurt her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her throat tight with emotion, resisting the urge to remind him she’s not good at this. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Bucky accepts her apology with a grateful smile, telling her, “I don’t mind if you have doubts or insecurities, okay? I never have.” He lifts a hand to his chest, promising her, “ And I’m happy to help quiet them, but I’d rather you ask me, instead of accusing me, that’s all.”

She swiftly nods her head, rendered speechless again, her voice stuck in her throat. He’s managed to avoid all the landmines, pass all her tests, but the doubt lingers. The fear doesn’t ease. It won’t until she has concrete proof. Something she can cling to.

What if he can’t give you any?

The silent questioning gives her pause and she takes the opportunity to announce that she needs another drink, her bottle nearly empty, excusing herself to the kitchen. She wastes time at the fridge, the single candle on the counter the only light as she takes several gulps of water to soothe her dry throat.

Her current thoughts mirror the ones from earlier, her anxiety and insecurities doing their best to convince her of things she knows aren’t true. This isn’t a joke, or a thoughtless confession, or a fetishized curiosity.

Interrupting the growing silence, Bucky joins her, leaving several feet between them, “What do you need, Sunshine?”

The tender way he asks is almost enough to make her cry, his soft murmur providing her comfort. All he’s ever cared about is her happiness, going out of his way to make her day, even before he ever considered dating her. After all the pain and heartache she’s endured, doesn’t she deserve a chance at happiness?

This is a bad idea.

Her heart’s racing, and she’s not sure if or when she’ll be able to breathe deeply again, but it’s not enough to scare her away anymore. She’ll live the rest of her life with yet another regret if she doesn’t take this chance, deciding to trust his promise that nothing can ruin their friendship.

“What kind of thoughts do you have about me?”

She keeps her back to him, and the words are barely audible, but he doesn’t make her repeat them, his soft footsteps echoing as he moves a bit closer.

“I think about spending more time with you,” he explains softly. “Taking you out on dates, getting to flirt with you, make you blush.”

Her skin grows warmer, a light sweat collecting under her shirt, threatening to overwhelm her. And yet, there’s no wish for the electricity to come back, wanting nothing to interrupt them. Being in the dark, the quiet of night, it makes this just a bit easier.

“Is that all you think about?”

Another soft step, and then a whisper of, “No, but that’s where I want to start.”

The water bottle grows heavy in her hands, flashes of her own fantasies and dreams invading her thoughts, doing nothing to help cool her down. No hesitation takes hold of her, refusing to leave it here, refusing to take the out he’s giving her. She can’t.

She needs more. Proof that he wants all of her. That he desires her.

Forcing herself to relax, she asks, “Where do you want it to go?”

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

Bucky should listen to his instinct and tell Sunshine everything - all his hopes and fantasies, even confess that night he listened for her moans of pleasure - but he doesn’t. He treads carefully, barely standing a foot behind her, quick to assure her, “Wherever you want it to.”

The moment he says it, a wave of regret washes over him, watching the tension suddenly return to her shoulders and her hands drop, her bottle swinging at her side. He’s so focused on trying to take this slow, to not push her into anything, that he’s accomplishing the opposite of what he was hoping for.

He’s reinforcing her insecurities instead of easing them.

Throwing caution to the wind, he follows his intuition, choosing 100% honesty.

“I think about kissing you.”

Her shuddering breath has a surge of arousal rushing through him and he lets his eyes drift close, taking a much needed breath to slow his racing heart. All the things he’s imagined doing with her filling his vision, his desire for her reaching new heights.

Trusting Sunshine to tell him to stop if he oversteps, Bucky keeps talking, his voice rough with need.

“I think about touching you.”

The soft, breathless sigh of his name has him reaching out, his fingers dangerously close to her wrist, her inviting warmth sending a bolt of electricity throughout his entire body.

At the last moment he pulls back, refusing to give in to the temptation. He can’t, not without her permission, and he’s not sure she’s ready to give it. She might never be. Not if he can’t show her how much he wants her.

“You’re not just an itch I wanna scratch, Sunshine. You’re not an experiment, and you’re sure as hell not just an occasional fantasy.” Her fingers tighten around her bottle and his eyes follow the bend of her elbow, the slight tension in her arms as she pulls her hands back in front of her.

These aren’t the signs of her wanting to pull away. She’s processing what he’s telling her. Questioning the possibilities. Focusing her energy on not jumping to the worst conclusion.

“You fantasize about me?” Hope. Longing. Desire. Need. It’s all there, evidence of her feelings for him.

Fuck.

He almost says it outloud, but he purses his lips, breathing heavily through his nose, ignoring the sudden twitching of his cock. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he focuses on a response. On words. Assurance. That’s all he should be offering right now.

“All the time. For months.” He can’t let any of her worries resurface, taking into account every argument she’s had tonight. “You’re in every fantasy. Every dream. You’re all I want.”

Her reaction feels like slow-motion, her trembling hand reaching out to try to place her water bottle on the counter. Without overthinking, Bucky does it for her, gently taking the bottle from her to set it down, his own hand steady despite the crackle of energy flowing through him.

He won’t let the doubt build, reading all the cues she’s throwing out to cement his hope for their future, watching as she turns around to face him.

“I want all of you. Your mind and your body. Every single fucking inch of you, if you’ll let me.”

Bucky can’t take it anymore. Her surprise and relief palpable as she meets his gaze, forcing him to make the first move, to finally close the distance between them. Still seeking her permission, he reaches out, hovering near her hand, the slight twitch of her fingers encouraging him to softly ask, “Yes or no, Sunshine?”

If she wants this, he has to hear the words. He can’t move forward without them.

There’s no rush as he watches her swallow and open her mouth, the process repeating on a loop until she’s able to fight through it. To give herself permission to move forward with him, even though there’s still so much fear and uncertainty.

“Yes.”

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

Prev Part | Series Masterlist | Next Part

Hot Bucky Summer Masterlist

Main Masterlist

242 notes · View notes

pshaven · 11 months

Note

hii I’m back 😋 jake has been bias wrecking me so bad lately. can I request makeup artist!reader practicing a new makeup look on him at home for enha’s comeback? he’s being a lil perv and ogling at her curves :,) it can lead to more if you like idc, you take the wheel!

💫 - thank you <3

anon i love you

cw! oral (m receiving), pervy jake, RAMBLY JAKE RAHHH

“are you sure you don’t have any scheduling today?” you ask jake as you prep your makeup on the table in front of the mirror, your back facing the boy in his designated chair. you learned some new tricks from another makeup artist a week ago, but had no one to practice on other than your mannequin but you desperately wanted to try it on a real person.

“of course i don’t, or else i wouldn’t be here right now. my manager would be getting on my ass right now if i had skipped anything,” jake chuckles, watching you fondle and organize all your products in a neat order. you sigh before turning around, your hands reaching for his face as you cup his jaw, maneuvering his head around to get a good look at the lighting in the room.

“thanks for doing this again, jake,” you say for the nth time since he walked into the room. he smiles as he lets you move his face around, “of course. i gave you my number for a reason, so you can call or text me whenever you need something.” you bite the inside of your cheek at his words, your hands leaving a lingering touch on his jaw before you fully turn around to grab some products to get to work.

you can’t say being flirted with by jake of all idols you’ve worked with is the worst thing, because it isn’t. the only bad thing is that it’s hard to not reciprocate it, especially when he makes it so easy with the pretty boy face of his.

but you underestimate jake, with you being blissfully unaware at the way he is shamelessly ogling your ass through your tight jean shorts that have him sucking in a breath. he’s thankful he wore loose sweats today, feeling his lower abdomen swirl with arousal especially when you cupped his face earlier.

you quickly get to work on him, your non dominant hand cupping his jaw as you focus on his eye makeup. he’s doing his best to be subtle, he swears he is! but you make it so hard, your tits basically hovering by his face, just asking for him to suck sweetly on them. he’s extra fidgety today, much to your naiveness so you grip his jaw a bit tighter, thumb digging into the side of his cheek slightly that causes his lips to purse together.

“stay still,” you mumble with a smile on your face, eyes still trained on his own to focus the shadow on the outer corner. he gives you a boyish grin, his hands surprising you when they touch your waist.

“then you should tie me down,” he muses, expecting you to react like you always do— caught off guard and surprised as if he doesn’t hint anything suggestive when given the chance.

but you open your mouth before thinking, too consumed with getting this new technique down on him. “didn’t know you were into kinky shit like that,” you snicker. now jake is caught off guard, his mouth goes slightly agape despite your hold on his jaw. you furrow your brows before shutting his mouth for him, your index finger tapping the side of his cheek. “now be a good boy ‘n shut up for me, okay?”

what was his half hard cock in his sweats is now fully rock hard, the fingers on your waist twitching a bit from your words. you’ve always been good at ignoring his flirtatious attempts whenever you would do his makeup before performance and award shows. he would’ve gotten you alone sooner if he knew you would start acting up like this.

you smile satisfyingly when the chatty boy in front of you finally shuts up, letting you work on his eyeliner in peace. “oh shit, sorry—“ you apologize when you drop one of your brushes from his hands and onto his lap, you immediately reaching for it without looking. your apology falls short when your hand brushes over something… particularly stiff that is way bigger than a makeup brush.

his eyes meet yours sheepishly, your own darting back and forth between his lap and his face. but jake doesn’t apologize. why should he? you’re the one who got him like this in the first place, and he likes the saying don’t start what you can’t finish.

like what you said earlier. it’s hard to say no to jake, with his stupidly handsome face, so how can you say no when he asks you to help him out? in the confines of your small makeup room, you’re in between his thighs on your knees, heavy cock in your hand while jake’s chest is heaving up and down.

“spit on it,” he tells you, but with his hissed tone it’s more of a demand. you do what he says, straightening your back to hover over his cock and letting your drool drip down messily onto his length. “my god, you’re so hot. you have no idea—“ he gets cut off with a gasp when your mouth envelopes him, a sigh leaving your lips in doing so.

he lost his words, his head thrown back as he throws his free arm over his mouth to muffle his moans. “y-y’know… every time you do my makeup- hahh- i get hard just thinking about you like this… down on your knees, taking my c-cock in your mouth,” he rambles, hips occasionally lifting off the chair as he gently thrusts.

“i-i love it whenever you- um—“ he hisses when you go even deeper, letting your tongue run down the underside of his cock. “fuck! oh shhiit. l-love it when you do my l-lips… just wanna kiss you everytime- ah!” his moans get louder each time your throat contracts around him. the noises that leave his lips only encourage you more, his rambly praises leading you to reach your free hand down your thighs, rubbing your neglected clit.

“you enjoying it that much?” he groans, catching a glimpse of your hand reaching down. “shit, if i knew you were like this i would’ve gotten you alone much sooner,” he mutters, entangling his hand in your hair and pulling you off his cock. you whine in protest, a thin string of spit connecting your lips with his cock still.

“awh-” he coos in fake sympathy, his hand that was in your hair now cupping your cheek as his thumb swipes around your lips in a weak attempt to clean up your messy spit. “don’t worry, next time you can spend all day sucking on my cock.. but now, let me see how wet that sloppy cunt is for me.”

#enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen #jake x reader #jaeyun x reader #jake smut #jaeyun smut #enhypen jake smut #enhypen jake #enhypen fanfic #sim jake #sim jaeyun

740 notes · View notes

st4rgzer · 5 months

Text

now playing…SO LONG, LONDON (spencer reid)

summary: spencer realizes how much damage he had been causing you.

genre: angst with fluffy ending

cw!: idk relationship problems?😭 also use of y/n and y/l/n (your last name)

a/n: so since y’all wanted a happy ending version! here it is, it isn’t quite like the song but yeah, you guys get the point. masterlist

tension protruded eagerly from the silent room. it was dim, you had left some candles lit but that was it. your cheeks were wet and hot. but somehow you still felt an adamant numbing sensation of coldness. your weary bones hugged your knees, sniffles breaking through the silence.

“how long did you think i could’ve held on” you muttered through your broken voice.

“what?” he lifted his head from in between his legs where he had his hands pressed to the back of his neck.

“how long did you think i could’ve held on to you? were you just going to let me destroy myself, give everything i had just for you to crack a smile?” you spoke loudly now, sharp words that stung as spencer heard every one of them.

he didn’t respond. instead, he just listened. he knew the last thing you wanted from him right now was for him tp talk back, so he let you talk.

“fuck, even my friends said it was not right to be scared! not of you, but of how quickly your temperament can change from one moment to another. every breath that i take feels like im stealing it from you, like- like when i do finally get to do so, its short and doesn’t last long until i have to hold my breath again.”

“do you resent me, spencer? is that what this is? you left the BAU after you got back from prison, and i thought it was to settle down, make me your wife. but you never wanted this, did you?” spencers head perked up. his demeaner changed. he went from attentive and remorseful to stern.

“do not say that. “ he pointed a finger at you “y/n y/l/n don’t you, for a second, think i regret any minute i’ve ever spent with you, i regret a lot of things in my life but meeting you, loving you? i’ve never thought twice about that. you are my number one priority in this life, and im sorry i couldn’t give you everything you wanted, at least not right now. but i promise, i swear on my life, if that even means anything, that i’m going to get better. and i know actions speak more than words, but please, please hold on. i’m not going to insist you stay here with me, but just promise you’ll come back when you’re ready? i love you, y/n, and i hate myself for even thinking that i hurt you.” his tone was indulgent, pleading almost. he had stood up and waved his hands frantically as he punctuated each word, meaning every one. his frazzled hair and big brown eyes kept you at bay.

for a few minutes there was silence as you quietly digested his words.

“do you mean that?” you whispered, fragile, as you looked up at him.

he nodded his head, looking away and blinking a few times. trying to hold in the tears that painfully pricked his waterline.

you sighed, attempting to weigh the pro’s and con’s of the situation, but you loved him. a mental list of the good and the bad wasn’t going to decide the fate of your life. in every relationship there’s hell in heaven, eventually, happiness comes back. all you knew was that this man encapsulated your whole being with nothing more than love and affection, so you knew that this was nothing but a small dent in the glass case that encased the rose that was your love.

you opened your arms, he hesitantly got down to your level. you held him tightly, as if the weight of the wind was to carry him away at any moment. he buried his head in qthe crook of your neck, sniffling as he let out soft sobs, and whispers of apologies.

eventually, the tears ceased. and you both laid there, enveloped. consumed by each other, hands caught in spencers hair from raking through it, as sleep caught onto you. spencer kissed the bridge of your nose gently.

“i love you”

“i love you too”

a/n: guys idk how to feel about this one, this might have been my least favorite so far😭

taglist: @ilovesadiesink @sp3ncelle @lvtilzs @bunnylov-3-r @bellasprettywords

*comment to be added*

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds

358 notes · View notes

lila-lou · 3 months

Text

✨ His second exception - Pt. 2/? ✨

Summary: The moment Ben found out you were pregnant was probably the happiest moment of his life. However, happiness proved fleeting. Now, he is faced with the aftermath of his shattered dreams. Of what is left of you, and what is left of him.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, Ben being hurt, Reader being hurt, soft Ben, sad Ben, Ben loosing his shit- it´s STILL a fucking mess

Word Count: 5981

A/N: This is the sequel to “His only exeption” - and Part 2 of "His second exception".

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

It had been three days since you returned from the hospital, and the house felt eerily silent. Ben had been trying, so hard, to get you to talk to him, but you couldn’t. Every time he asked a question or tried to start a conversation, you barely managed more than a monosyllabic response.

You spent most of your time in bed, staring at the ceiling or out the window, lost in your own world of pain. You barely ate or drank, and your physical and emotional exhaustion seemed to deepen with each passing hour. The grief was all-consuming, a dark cloud that overshadowed everything else.

Ben was at his wit’s end. He wanted to help, to ease your pain, but he felt powerless. He had tried bringing you your favorite meals, but they remained untouched. He had tried sitting with you in silence, hoping his presence alone would be enough, but it seemed to have little effect.

On the morning of the fourth day, Ben decided he couldn’t let this go on any longer. He needed to reach you, to pull you out of this spiral of despair. He found you in bed, as usual, your eyes blankly staring ahead. With a heavy heart, he sat down beside you, his hand gently resting on your arm.

“Hey”, he said softly, trying to catch your gaze. “I know you’re hurting. I am too. But we can’t keep going on like this. Please, talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling”.

You didn’t respond, your eyes flickering with a mix of emotions. It was clear that you were struggling, caught in a web of grief and numbness. Ben’s hand tightened slightly on your arm, a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

“Please, just let me in”, he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I can’t stand seeing you like this. I want to help”.

You turned your head slowly, your gaze meeting his for the first time in days. “Just leave me alone”, you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of sorrow and frustration. “I can’t do this right now, Ben. Just… please”.

Your words cut through Ben’s usual cold and unhurtable demeanor like a knife. He felt his heart clench painfully in his chest. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He had always been the strong one, the one who never let anything get to him. But now, seeing you in so much pain and being unable to do anything about it, he felt utterly helpless.

“Alright”, he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll give you space. But please, if you need anything, anything at all, just let me know".

You turned away from him, tears streaming down your face, as he slowly stood up and left the room. The silence that followed was deafening, a reminder of the emptiness you felt inside.

Ben walked downstairs, feeling more lost than he ever had. He wanted to scream, to punch something, to do anything to release the frustration and pain that was consuming him. Instead, he walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, his head in his hands.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, staring blankly at the floor, before he left the house.

Eventually Ben couldn’t bear the suffocating silence any longer. He stood up from the couch and left the house, feeling like a shadow of himself. On the way to his car, he pulled out his phone and texted you, his fingers trembling slightly as he typed.

“I’m heading to the tower. If you need anything, call me”.

He slipped his phone back into his pocket and got into the car, the drive to the tower feeling both too short and agonizingly long. Each mile away from you felt like a betrayal, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that his presence was doing more harm than good.

When he arrived at the tower, he parked and walked in, feeling the familiar weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. He needed to be Soldier Boy now, to bury his personal pain and focus on something, anything, that could keep him from falling apart.

As he entered the meeting room, he found Butcher and Annie still discussing the repairs. They looked up as he walked in, their expressions a mix of concern and surprise.

“Ben”, Annie said softly.

Ben's demeanor shifted almost instantly as he entered the meeting room. The weight of his personal anguish was momentarily pushed aside as he slipped into his Soldier Boy persona. He greeted Butcher and Annie with a nod, his expression now focused and determined.

"How's the progress on the repairs?".

Butcher and Annie exchanged a glance, recognizing the change in Ben's demeanor. Butcher leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Slow, but steady", he replied. "We're getting there".

Ben nodded, his mind already racing with thoughts of logistics and strategy. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial of cocaine, setting it on the table him. Without missing a beat, he began to prepare a line, his movements practiced and efficient.

Annie and Butcher watched Ben as he prepared the line of cocaine, concern etched on their faces. Annie couldn't help but feel a pang of worry for him. She cleared her throat, her voice soft and tentative.

"Ben, are you… okay?", she asked, her tone filled with genuine concern.

Ben looked up briefly, his eyes glazed and distant. He flashed a strained smile, trying to appear unaffected. "Peachy", he muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness.

As he rubbed the white dust from his nose, Annie exchanged another worried glance with Butcher.

Annie hesitated, sensing the tension in the air, but she pressed on, her voice gentle. "How's… how's (Y/N) holding up?".

Ben's jaw clenched, his frustration bubbling to the surface. He snapped at her, his tone harsh and biting. "Everyone's fucking fine", he growled, his voice laced with anger. "Just pass me the fucking construction report".

Annie recoiled slightly at his outburst. It was clear that Ben was struggling, and they would need to tread carefully around him.

Without a word, Annie handed Ben the construction report.

After a while of talking about the rebuilding, Hughie and Frenchie stepped into the room, their eyes widening as they spotted Ben sitting at the table. They exchanged a confused glance, clearly surprised to see him there.

Frenchie couldn't hide his excitement, a grin spreading across his face. "Soldier Boy!" he exclaimed, his tone laced with genuine happiness. "You're back!".

Butcher shot Frenchie a warning look, silently cautioning him to tread carefully. He knew that Ben was in a fragile state, and they couldn't afford any missteps.

Ben's expression remained impassive, his eyes flickering briefly as he acknowledged Hughie and Frenchie's presence. "Yeah", he muttered, his voice flat. "Back".

Frenchie rambled on, trying to lighten the mood with his usual brand of humor. "Fuck, Butcher", he said with a chuckle, "you were a pain in my arse the last three days. I thought I was going to lose my mind without Soldier Boy around to keep you in check".

Butcher rolled his eyes, but a small smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Meanwhile, Hughie made his way over to Annie, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. "How are you holding up?", he asked softly, his concern evident in his eyes.

Annie nodded in agreement with Hughie's question, her expression grave. "I can't lie, Hughie", she murmured, her gaze flicking towards Ben. "It's good that Ben's here to take a look over everything. The tower's been a mess the last three days, and we could use his leadership. But… he's not in a good mood".

Ben's grumble cut through the air, his frustration evident as he continued to pore over the report. "I can fucking hear you", he muttered under his breath, not bothering to look up from the papers in front of him. He grabbed another file and handed it to Butcher without a word, his jaw clenched with tension.

Annie watched Butcher carefully, then turned her attention back to Ben. "Ben", she began tentatively, "maybe you should take a break. You've been at this for hours".

Butcher glanced at Annie and then back at Ben, his expression unreadable. "She's right, mate", he said gruffly. "You look like shit. You need to get some rest".

Ben's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. Instead, he pushed himself away from the table and stood up, running a hand through his hair. "Fine", he muttered, his tone terse. "But get those files to A-Train and MM. They need to deal with that supe in Florida".

He handed Butcher the file and then turned to Frenchie, thrusting another folder into his hands. "And you", he said, his voice clipped, "go after the supe in that file. Take your… chinese chick with you".

Frenchie raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, nodding in understanding as he took the file. "Got it", he said simply, his gaze flicking to Annie and Butcher before he headed out of the room.

Annie exchanged a worried glance with Butcher as Ben stormed off, his frustration palpable in the air. It was clear that he was struggling, but for now, all they could do was wait and hope that he would find a way to cope with his grief.

Hughie shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Say what you want about him, but Soldier Boy sure knows how to get things done", he mumbled, his admiration evident in his tone. "Efficient as hell".

In his office, Ben went for another line, the bitter taste piercing through the haze of his thoughts. He followed it with a sip of whiskey, the burning sensation offering a momentary distraction from the weight of his emotions.

Ben descended to meet with the heads of the departments, his mind focused on the tasks ahead. He outlined the plans for the next few weeks, his voice steady and authoritative as he issued instructions and delegated responsibilities. Despite the turmoil raging within him, he remained composed, his determination unwavering as he worked to keep the organization running smoothly.

Meanwhile, back at home, you moved slowly through the house, your footsteps heavy with the weight of your grief. You found yourself standing in front of the door to the baby's room, a door you had avoided for the past three days.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was just as you had left it, filled with the soft pastels and gentle touches you had so lovingly chosen. The sight of the crib, the tiny clothes, and the toys you had carefully arranged brought a fresh wave of pain crashing over you.

You walked over to the crib, your fingers tracing the delicate patterns on the blanket. Tears blurred your vision as you sat down in the rocking chair.

It was late when Ben finally came back home. The weight of the day's responsibilities and the lingering grief pressed heavily on his shoulders. Part of him dreaded returning, unable to face the sight of your suffering and the possibility of being rejected again, but he knew he had no choice.

As he walked through the house, he searched for you, calling your name softly. There was no response. Panic began to creep in until he noticed the open door of the baby's room. His heart sank as he approached it.

He stepped inside quietly, his eyes quickly finding you curled up and sleeping on the rocking chair, the little plush eagle clutched tightly in your arms. The sight tore at his heart, the depth of your grief mirrored in your posture even as you slept.

Ben knelt down beside the chair, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. He could see the tracks of dried tears on your cheeks, your expression troubled even in sleep.

For a moment, he just watched you, his own pain surfacing again. He wanted to hold you, to comfort you, but he feared waking you and causing you more distress. Instead, he sat there, for a while, his presence a silent promise that he was there for you, no matter how difficult things became.

Finally, he reached out and gently touched your shoulder, his voice soft and filled with love. "Hey", he whispered. "Let's get you to bed, okay?".

You stirred, your eyes fluttering open to find Ben's concerned gaze. The sight of him brought a fresh wave of emotions, but you were too exhausted to cry anymore. You nodded weakly, allowing him to help you up from the chair.

Ben wrapped his arms around you, guiding you back to the bedroom. He helped you into bed, tucking the blankets around you with care. As he moved to leave, you grabbed his hand, holding on tightly.

"Stay", you murmured, your voice barely audible. "Please".

Ben's heart ached at the plea, and he nodded, slipping into bed beside you. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you both lay there, enveloped in the shared silence of your grief.

The night passed slowly, Ben lying awake, his mind a storm of thoughts and emotions. He kept his arms around you, hoping that his presence might offer some comfort, even if just a little. But sleep eluded him, his eyes remaining open, staring at the ceiling as the hours ticked by.

When morning came, you stirred in his arms, your eyes fluttering open. The room was dimly lit by the early light of dawn seeping through the curtains. As you fully awoke and realized Ben was still holding you, you turned around, facing away from him, your back to his chest.

Ben felt the shift, a familiar pang of sadness settling in his chest. He understood that you needed space, but it didn’t make it any easier to bear. He released his hold, his arms falling to his sides, giving you the room you seemed to silently ask for.

“I know it’s hard", he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just want you to know I’m here. I won’t leave you”.

You didn’t respond, the silence heavy and thick between you. The pain of your loss was still raw, a wound that had barely begun to heal. Ben sighed, pressing his eyes shut for a moment, willing himself to stay strong for both of you.

After a few minutes, he slowly got out of bed, moving quietly so as not to disturb you further.

Downstairs, he went through the motions of making coffee, the mundane task a small anchor in the sea of emotional turmoil. He poured himself a cup, but the familiar taste offered little comfort.

His heart ached, but he pushed the pain down, focusing on the present moment. You needed him, even if you couldn’t express it, and he would be there.

After a while, he heard soft footsteps behind him. Turning around, he saw you standing at the foot of the stairs, looking as fragile as he felt. He wanted to reach out, to pull you into his arms and promise that things would eventually get better, but he knew words were useless right now.

“Morning”, he said gently, trying to offer a small semblance of normalcy. “I made coffee. Want one?”.

You just shook your head, the weight of your grief making it hard to form words. You wanted to leave the kitchen, to escape the suffocating memories that seemed to cling to every corner of the house. But Ben reached out, his hands gently grasping your hips in a tender attempt to connect.

The touch, though well-intentioned, felt like a spark igniting a volatile mixture of pain and frustration. You snapped his hands away, your voice rising in a sudden, uncontrollable surge of anger and sorrow.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”, you yelled, the words echoing through the quiet house. Your face contorted with a mix of rage and heartbreak, tears welling up in your eyes once more.

Ben recoiled slightly, the hurt clear in his eyes, but he didn’t back down. “I just… I just want to fucking help you (y/n)”.

“Just leave me alone, Ben”, you sobbed, your voice breaking. “I can’t do this with you. I can’t… I can’t even look at you right now”.

Ben’s heart felt like it was breaking all over again as he watched you retreat, your words like daggers stabbing into his already wounded soul. Once again, you had pushed him away, making him feel like everything was his fault.

He stood there, feeling utterly helpless, as the weight of his own grief threatened to crush him.

He clenched his fists at his sides, his jaw tight with the effort to hold back his own tears. He wanted to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all, but he knew that wouldn’t change anything.

With a heavy sigh, he turned away, his footsteps heavy as he left the kitchen.

As Ben turned away from the kitchen, the weight of your words still heavy on his heart, he paused for a moment in the doorway. His shoulders slumped with defeat, he mumbled softly, almost to himself, "I'm at the tower".

Without waiting for a response, knowing that none would come, he left the house, his steps heavy with the burden of grief and guilt. Outside, he climbed into his car, the engine rumbling to life as he drove towards the tower.

When he arrived, he didn't waste any time. He quickly changed into his supe suit, the familiar fabric feeling like a second skin. It was a facade, a mask he wore to hide the pain and turmoil raging inside him, but it was the only way he knew how to keep going.

As the days passed, the chasm between you and Ben seemed to widen with each passing moment. At night, when the darkness pressed in and the weight of your grief threatened to suffocate you, you found yourself yearning for his presence, craving the comfort of his arms around you.

But as the sun rose and the day stretched out before you, the ache in your heart turned to anger, and you pushed him away with every ounce of strength you had left. You couldn't bear to look at him, to see the pain in his eyes mirrored in your own, so you shut him out, retreating into your own world of sorrow and silence.

For Ben, each day felt like a battle, a constant struggle to navigate the shifting landscape of your emotions. He wanted to help, to ease your pain and bridge the widening gap between you, but every attempt seemed to only push you further away.

He tried to give you space, to respect your need for solitude, but it tore him apart to see you suffering and know that he couldn't do anything to ease your pain. The nights were the hardest, when he lay awake beside you, listening to the sound of your uneven breathing, knowing that even in sleep, you were haunted by the ghosts of your grief.

But he refused to give up.

This evening was no exception. As Ben emerged from the shower, the towel loosely draped around his hips, he felt the weight of the evening settling around him. He glanced at you lying in bed, the distance between you palpable even in the dim light of the room. It had become a familiar routine – he was only allowed to be around you at night, while over the day you didn’t want to see him or talk to him.

With a heavy sigh, Ben walked towards the closet, his movements slow and deliberate. He could feel your gaze on him, heavy with unspoken words and unanswered questions.

As he pulled on a fresh pair of underwear, he couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness that seemed to permeate every corner of the room. The silence between you was deafening, a stark reminder of all that had been lost.

Finally dressed, Ben turned towards the bed, his heart heavy with the weight of the evening ahead. He knew that tonight would be no different from any other night – the same silent longing, the same unspoken desires. But still, he couldn’t help but hope that somehow, things would be different.

As soon as Ben slipped inside the bed, you instinctively cuddled against him, seeking the warmth and comfort of his presence. He felt a pang of both relief and sadness as you nestled closer to him, the physical closeness a stark contrast to the emotional distance that had grown between you over the past two weeks.

Unable to resist any longer, Ben finally broke the heavy silence that hung in the air. His voice was soft, tentative, as if afraid of shattering the fragile peace that had settled between you.

“Is this… Is this how it’s going to be from now on?”, he asked. He couldn’t bear the thought of continuing to drift apart, of living in this limbo where neither of you truly knew where you stood.

You didn’t respond immediately, your silence stretching between you like a chasm. Ben held his breath, waiting for any sign of acknowledgment, any indication of what was going through your mind.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know, Ben”, you said, the weight of your uncertainty heavy in the air. “I don’t know if I can go back to how things were before”.

Ben’s heart sank at your words, the fear of losing you threatening to overwhelm him.

Ben sighed heavily, the weight of exhaustion and emotional turmoil bearing down on him like a heavy burden. He looked at you, seeing the toll that the past few weeks had taken on both of you. His heart ached with a mixture of sadness and frustration.

He felt utterly drained from the lack of sleep, from the constant back-and-forth of your emotions, from the feeling of helplessness as he watched you suffer. Each night, he lay awake, his mind spinning with thoughts of what could have been, what should have been.

He was exhausted from hearing your tears, from feeling your anger directed at him, from the overwhelming sense of rejection that seemed to seep into every corner of their relationship. But most of all, he was exhausted from the silent pain of losing a child, a pain that you seemed to have forgotten was his too.

As he lay there beside you, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of bitterness and resentment. He wanted to scream, to shake you and demand to know why you couldn’t see the pain he was in, why you couldn’t offer him the same comfort and support that he had tried so hard to give you.

But he knew that would only push you further away. So instead, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as if trying to bridge the growing divide between you.

It had been one month since the loss of your baby, and the house felt more like a ghost of the home it once was. Ben had thrown himself into work, spending long hours at the tower because you kept pushing him away. Meanwhile, you remained in your own world, a silent observer of a life that seemed to pass by without you.

You sat on the couch, curled into a blanket, staring out the window, lost in thought. The world outside moved on, but you felt stuck in a place of endless grief and numbness.

The front door opened, and Ben walked in, followed closely by Butcher. You barely registered their presence until Butcher's voice cut through the silence like a knife.

"For fuck’s sake, Soldier Boy!", Butcher snapped, his tone filled with frustration and concern. "You need to sleep. You almost got yourself killed today".

Ben's eyes were dark with exhaustion, the lines on his face deeper than usual. He rubbed his temples, a weary sigh escaping his lips. "I'm fucking fine, Butcher. I can handle it".

Butcher stepped closer, his expression hardening. "No, you bloody well can’t. Look at yourself. You’re a fucking mess, and it's gonna get you killed if you don’t get your shit together".

Ben's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "I said I’m fine", he repeated, his voice edged with irritation. "Just drop it".

You watched the exchange from your spot on the couch, your heart aching for Ben but feeling too numb to intervene. The room fell silent, the tension thick in the air.

Butcher glanced at you, his expression softening slightly. "You two need to sort this out", he said more quietly. "This can’t go on".

Ben turned to look at you, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he turned away, the pain in his gaze clear.

You simply stood up, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on your shoulders, and walked upstairs without another word. The sound of your footsteps on the stairs echoed through the house, amplifying the silence that followed.

Butcher turned to Ben, who was pinching the bridge of his nose, looking more defeated than Butcher had ever seen him.

“Ben, you need to face this head-on”, Butcher said, his tone a mixture of frustration and sympathy. “You can’t keep running on fumes and pretending everything’s fine”.

Ben dropped his hand from his face, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and helplessness. “What the fuck do you want me to do, Butcher?”, he snapped. “She doesn’t want to talk to me. She doesn’t want me around half the time. I don’t know what to do anymore”.

Butcher sighed, a heavy weight settling in his chest as he looked at Ben. "I know it's tough, mate. But you can't keep going like this. You need to take a long-ass nap, clear your head, and try talking to her again tomorrow".

Ben nodded, the exhaustion evident in every line of his face. "Yeah, you're probably right", he admitted, his voice heavy with defeat.

Butcher clapped him on the shoulder, offering a small, supportive smile. "Get some rest, Soldier Boy".

With that, Butcher turned and left Ben alone in the living room, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Ben sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he contemplated his next move. He knew Butcher was right—he couldn't keep going like this. He needed to find a way to break through the wall of silence between him and you, even if it felt like an impossible task.

With a weary sigh, Ben made his way upstairs to the bedroom, hoping that a few hours of sleep might bring some clarity to the tangled mess of emotions swirling inside him.

As Ben lay beside you in bed, the weight of the past month pressing down on him, he felt a pang of sadness at the growing distance between you. Unlike two weeks ago, when you had sought comfort in his embrace, the last few days had been marked by a coldness that seemed to permeate every interaction between you.

With a heavy heart, Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out the pills Butcher had given him. He swallowed them without hesitation, hoping that they would bring him the elusive sleep that had eluded him for so long.

As he lay there, waiting for the pills to take effect, Ben felt the exhaustion of the past month wash over him like a tidal wave. His eyelids grew heavy, and he welcomed the darkness that enveloped him, if only for a few hours.

With a final sigh, Ben closed his eyes.

The next day, Ben woke up to find himself alone in bed. After taking a shower and getting dressed, he searched for you, eventually finding you sitting on the floor in front of the crib. He approached you cautiously, the tension in the air palpable.

"Hey", he said softly, his voice breaking the silence. "How are you feeling today?".

You remained silent, your gaze fixed on the empty crib before you. Ben's heart sank at the lack of response, but he refused to give up.

"I know this has been hard", he continued, his voice filled with empathy. "But we need to talk about what happened. We can't keep avoiding it forever".

Still, you said nothing, your silence like a barrier between you. Ben sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him.

"Please, (Y/N)", he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't do this alone. I need you".

You snapped, your frustration boiling over. "Just leave me alone, Ben!", you exclaimed, your voice trembling with emotion.

But Ben, no longer overwhelmed by exhaustion, refused to back down. His patience had worn thin after a month of trying to navigate the minefield of your grief.

"I won't fucking leave you alone", he snapped, his temper finally breaking. "I'm fucking tired of this shit! We need to face this together, whether you like it or not".

His words hung in the air, the tension between you thick and heavy.

Ben’s steps were heavy as he closed the distance between you, his frustration palpable in every movement. With a firm grip, he cupped your jaw, forcing you to meet his intense gaze.

“Fucking look at me when I talk to you!”. His voice cracked with raw emotion, a mix of anger and desperation lacing his words. “Baby, I can’t do this anymore", his voice breaking.

You pushed against Ben's grip, the overwhelming need to escape consuming you. With a determined strength, you stood up, ready to flee the suffocating confines of the room.

But Ben wasn't having it. In a swift motion, he grabbed both of your wrists, his touch firm yet gentle, pulling you back towards him. You stumbled against his chest, the warmth of his embrace enveloping you despite your resistance.

"Let me go", you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper, your heart heavy with sorrow.

But Ben held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you, refusing to let you slip away. Your hands remained trapped between your bodies, a physical manifestation of the emotional barrier that had grown between you.

"Please", you whispered again, your voice trembling with emotion.

"I can't". Ben replied, his own voice choked with tears. "I can't lose you too".

As you wiggled free from Ben’s grasp once more, determination fueled your steps as you began to walk away from him, your heart heavy with the weight of your shared pain. But within seconds, the air crackled with tension, a palpable sense of impending doom hanging over the room.

All the weeks of Ben suppressing his emotions, of being unable to grieve openly, of shouldering the burden of strength for both of you, came crashing down in a torrent of rage and despair. With a primal scream of anguish, he grabbed the swinging chair nearby, his muscles tensing with the force of his fury.

In one swift, violent motion, he hurled the chair against the baby’s closet, the impact echoing through the room with a deafening crash. The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass filled the air, mingling with your cries of shock and despair.

The closet collapsed under the force of the blow, its contents tumbling out in a chaotic jumble of memories and broken dreams. You stood frozen in horror, tears streaming down your cheeks as you watched the wreckage unfold before you.

As the chaos unfolded before your eyes, you screamed at Ben, the words tearing from your throat in a desperate plea for understanding. "What the fuck are you doing?!". Your voice echoed off the walls, a mixture of fear and anger fueling your words.

But Ben's rage consumed him, his eyes wild with desperation as he stormed towards the changing table. With a primal roar, he brought his fist down with a sickening thud, the wood splintering beneath the force of his blow.

You recoiled in horror, the sound reverberating through your bones as you watched him unleash his fury upon the furniture. But it was when he reached for the crib that your heart skipped a beat, a cold shiver coursing down your spine.

His hands hovered over the crib, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as his eyes landed on the little plush eagle nestled among the blankets. In that moment, time seemed to stand still, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken grief.

Tears welled in Ben's eyes, his chest heaving with emotion as he reached out to touch the soft fabric of the toy. And in that simple gesture, you saw the cracks in his armor, the raw vulnerability hidden beneath his facade of strength.

For a moment, the room fell silent, the only sound the soft whisper of your breath mingling with the quiet sobs that wracked Ben's body.

The soft glow emanating from Ben's chest pierced through the haze of grief that had consumed you for four long weeks. In that moment, the realization hit you like a bolt of lightning: Ben was hurting too. He had been shouldering the weight of your shared pain, sacrificing his own emotions to be strong for you.

With trembling steps, you approached him, the floor cold beneath your bare feet. You watched as he sank to his knees, the plush eagle clutched tightly in his hand, a symbol of the innocence lost and the love that still remained.

Your heart ached as you knelt before him, the weight of your sorrow pressing down upon you like a leaden shroud. But despite the heaviness of your grief, you reached out, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, offering what little comfort you could.

His body trembled beneath your touch, his breaths ragged and uneven as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Tears mingled with yours.

In that moment, you didn't care about the risk, about the possibility of his radiating chest exploding and engulfing you both in its fiery embrace. All that mattered was the need to hold him close, to offer him the comfort and solace he had so selflessly given you in your darkest hours.

With his face still buried against the curve of your neck, his silent sobs reverberating through your shared embrace, you pressed him closer to you, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. You could feel the warmth of his tears mingling with your own, a bittersweet symphony of grief and love.

Time seemed to stand still as you held each other amidst the wreckage of your shattered dreams, the world outside fading into insignificance. In that moment, there was only the two of you.

After what felt like an eternity, Ben finally wrapped his arms around your small frame, pulling you closer against him and onto his thighs, his grip strong and unwavering. Without lifting his head, he held you tightly, as if afraid that letting go would mean losing you forever.

———————————

A/N: Honestly, I fucking loved that chapter.. please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 3

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara @kat-nee @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @star-yawnznn @me1501 @CheyNovaK @faephoria @hobby27 @baby19sthings

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #the boys #angst #hurt/comfort #ben x you #ben #ben x reader #jensen ackles the boys #the boys hughie #billy butcher

203 notes · View notes

incendiobrock · 7 months

Text

Boneyard Bash {JJ Maybank}

Summary: A twist to the boneyard scene where instead of JJ offering Sarah a drink, Rafe offers y/n one. This doesn’t sit well with bf JJ and a fight ensues but the gun is pulled on the wrong person.. ;)

Warnings: gun violence, language, physical fighting, drinking, smoking, slight mention of blood

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

The past twenty-four hours consisted of a lot of concocting and illegal activities that you would rather not list out. You see, when John B, JJ, Pope, Kiara, and you run into a sunken ship, and the police won’t listen to you when you try to report it, matters are taken into your own hands. What started as a plan to figure out who’s Grady White sunk during hurricane Agatha- has turned into a money ring.

“Can we please take a break from the illegal, money scheming antics? We’ve been at it all day, and I’m still dead serious about getting caught, I can not lose my scholarship!” Pope spoke, eyeing each and everyone of you as you sat around on the porch of the chateau. Kiara quickly agreed, John B and JJ almost getting caught at the motel was enough for her.

“Either way is fine with me.” You stated, taking a hit from the joint that JJ had just rolled, blowing out the smoke and instantly feeling a sense of relief wash over you. You passed the joint back to your blonde boyfriend, allowing him to get a few hits of it as well.

“We could hit up the boneyard?” John B suggested, a quizzical expression playing on his face. He knew that his friends never passed on the idea of throwing a kegger.

“Now we’re talkin!” JJ cheered, his arm finding its way over your shoulders as you snatched the joint back from him. After your last hit you put out the bud, twisting the burning end into the wood of the porch, ultimately saving the rest for later. You all got up from your spots, heading over to the twinkie so you could pick up a couple kegs before heading to the abandoned part of the beach.

---

The drinks were starting to hit you after downing two, and sipping on a third. Your body swayed to the music playing as a fire slowly burned in the background. You and Kiara had been dancing for awhile, talking about all the things that you never spoke of with the three boys. You were thankful that Kie was there, she was the one that made sure you kept hold of a little bit of your sanity. Out of ear shot, JJ sat next to Pope on a piece of old driftwood that had been washed to shore. His eyes watched you as you let out a laugh in response to something Kiara must’ve said, pure bliss radiating off of you.

“Dude, you’re starring hardcore at y/n.” Pope chuckled, nudging his shoulder. JJ grinned, shaking his head a little as he looked down at his lap. He had a red solo cup in hand, also feeling the affects of all the beer he had consumed so far this night.

“I can’t help it Pope, I’m in love with her.” JJ responded, looking back up at you as the fire cast its light across your face, making you glow like a true goddess.

You glanced over your shoulder, blushing as you made eye contact with your boyfriend from across the way.

“Well, well, well... If it isn’t the wanna be Pogue and the Pogue princess dancing around the fire on this fine evening.” A voice spoke from behind you. You felt your smile instantly leave, recognizing who the voice belonged to without having to even turn around.

“What do you want Rafe?” Kie asked, crossing her arms over her chest, sending death glares at the number one asshole in all of the OBX. Rafe scoffed, running a hand through his preppy, annoying, rich hair.

“I actually didn’t come over here for you, as if that’s any sort of shock-” He spat, a red solo cup sloshing around beer as he used his hands for emphasis. “-I really only came over here to offer y/n a drink.” He finished his sentence, extending the cup out to you.

“No thanks, I think I’m good.” You said rolling your eyes and turning your back towards the Kook. Despite you constantly trying to shut Rafe down, he would continue to talk to you any chance he got. All the Pogue’s had picked up that he had some sort of weird fascination with you, and it drove JJ mad. He hated that Rafe was constantly up your ass, despite the numerous times you told him you weren’t interested. JJ knew you could handle yourself, but it also just made him upset because you are his girl, and no one could get in the way of that.

“Oh come on... Where’s that little Pogue boyfriend of yours? Did he get himself thrown in jail yet?” Rafe pushed, causing you to turn back around.

“He’s right here you dipshit!” JJ yelled, quickly walking up to Rafe and punching him square in the face. You and Kiara both gasped, watching as Rafe almost instantly fought back. He took ahold of JJ’s shirt, knuckles going white from the tight grasp, and throwing his towards the sand. JJ fumbled slightly, his back hitting the ground relatively hard, but he managed to get back up and tackle Rafe to the ground as well.

“Rafe! Leave him alone!” You cried, watching as Rafe threw multiple punches at JJ’s face. He was lucky that he had been able to dodge a few of them. Before you knew it, John B, and Topper had joined in too. Each boy standing up for their respective friend but ultimately just creating a bigger fight.

Topper and JJ were now the ones who were throwing punches left and right, John B struggling to pull them apart from each other. You had almost had enough of all the fighting, storming towards the four boys, a little unsure of what your game plan was. “Hey! Stop it!” You yelled out again, watching as JJ had once again hit Topper, his nose now gushing blood. Rafe broke away from the boys, coming straight to you and pulling you against him to where your back was flat against his chest. His left arm wrapped around your shoulders, your neck being trapped between the bend in his arm, keeping you snug against him. His right hand raised up, a cool touch of metal being placed against your temple.

Your body instantly froze, although you had never found yourself in this situation before, you weren’t stupid. Rafe had a gun. It had all happened so fast, you hadn’t even had the chance to try and fight back, and now you sure as hell weren’t going to. Who knows whether Rafe would actually use the thing or not...

“Maybank! You better get your dirty Pogue hands off my friend! Or else!” Rafe said, the gun shaking against your temple as his voice rang out. JJ’s eyes immediately shooting over and seeing the tears forming in your eyes as Rafe’s gun was pressed flush against your head. Your hands were clutching onto the arm that Rafe was using to hold you in place, using him as support as your legs trembled beneath you.

“Let her go man! This doesn’t involve her!” John B said, coming closer to the two of you. Panic written across everyone’s face, even Topper seemed scared.

“Don’t come any closer! Tell them princess, if they come any closer I’ll shoot this gun right through your skull.” Your body shook, struggling to catch your breath as tears streamed down your face. Your eyes never lost sight of JJ’s as he stood and watched, trying to calculate his next move. Any alcohol in any of your systems was now long gone, feeling more sober by the second due to the severity of the situation at hand.

“Please- just let me go...” You chocked, begging Rafe to stop. You had seen him angry before, especially towards you guys, but never to this degree. You could tell he was enjoying it too as he chuckled to himself.

“Next time, maybe you should just be nice and accept my drink. That way we don’t have to end up in a little fight, alright princess?” He whispered in your ear, his lips brushing against your hair. You gulped, nodding your head up and down, hoping that this would be the end of his threats. “Good.” He whispered again, releasing your body from his grip and removing the gun all in one motion. You landed on your hands and knees, gasping for more air.

JJ rushed to your aid, dropping down in front of you and cupping your face in his hands, causing you to look at him. “Oh my god, are you alright? Did he hurt you baby?” He asked, his voice breaking slightly, tears now filling his icy blue eyes. You shook your head ‘no’, unable to form a sentence. JJ helped lift you into a sitting position, cradling you in his arms. He rocked you slightly, running a hand through your hair, trying to help you even out your breath.

“I thought I was going to lose you.” He whispered, the tears finally breaking their seal and gliding down his face.

“I thought you were too.” You replied, letting out a strained chuckle. He smiled, relieved to hear your voice again. He took ahold of both of your hands, allowing you both to stand back up.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” Kiara said, coming to your opposite side, nodding towards John B and Pope. You both agreed, following her and the others back towards the twinkie. JJ held a firm grip around your waist, not ready to let you go again after what Rafe had almost done to you. You leaned into him, thankful that you hadn’t died.

Once all five of you were back in the twinkie, and you were laying against JJ’s chest, he spoke once more, “If he ever puts a hand on you again he’s dead.”

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank x reader #Outer Banks #obx

227 notes · View notes

kckt88 · 9 months

Text

Don't Mess with My Mind.

Summary:

When you first got into a relationship with Aegon, it was everything you’d ever dreamed of. But when you catch him in bed with your best friend, it’s his younger brother Aemond who comforts you, at first you think you can go back to normal, but no matter how hard you try you cannot forget how Aemond made you feel that night and soon the two of you embark upon a passionate all-consuming affair that ultimately leads to life changing consequences.

Warning(s): Angst, Hurt, Comfort, Alcohol Consumption, Cheating, Kissing, Smut – Fingering, Oral Sex (M & F Receiving), Unprotected P in V Sex.

Word Count: 3670.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

MODERN AU - AEMOND x Y/N - AEGON x Y/N

Inspired by the song: EMO - Don't Mess With My Mind.

Tag List: @immyowndefender, @zenka69, @iloveallmyboys, @summerposie, @namelesslosers, @dixie-elocin,

The door slammed behind Y/N as she ran out of the building, the tears streaming down her face.

How could Aegon betray her like this? She thought he loved her. He’d told her enough times.

Y/N came to a stop near the car park and sagged against the stone wall, the sounds of Aegon fucking her best friend still ringing in her ears.

That absolute piece of shit, he’d even text her earlier in the day inviting her over to spend the night only for him to get caught with his pants down, literally.

Everyone warned her that Aegon was no good, but she wouldn’t listen, she foolishly believed that she would be the one who could tame him, oh how wrong she was.

The guy was a massive prick, Sara was welcome to him.

Let her be the one to put up with his drinking habits, the temper tantrums, and his disgustingly long toenails.

The only good thing about him was his nice-ish cock, no surprises there as he obviously got plenty of practice, Y/N wondered if Sara was the only one or were there others that he was also seeing, gods it made her feel sick.

Suddenly the glare of approaching headlights made Y/N wince as she raised a hand to shield her face.

Y/N looked up and saw Aemond getting out of his car with a tall dark-haired woman.

The woman began giggling as Aemond bent down and whispered in her ear, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and they began walking towards the entrance to the block of flats.

“Hey Y/N-what are you doing out here by yourself?” asked Aemond as he noticed her shaking form huddled against the wall.

“I-I just came to see A-Aegon and I caught him in bed with Sara” replied Y/N.

“Isn’t she supposed to be your best friend?” mused Aemond as he removed his arm from the dark-haired woman who Y/N remembered was called Alys.

“Not anymore” quipped Y/N.

“Aemy, can’t we go inside it’s getting cold” whined Alys, looking bored as she examined her red painted nails.

“In a minute” replied Aemond.

Alys narrowed her green eyes at Y/N and gently took hold of Aemond’s arm, only to be immediately shrugged off.

“Aemond-“ muttered Alys through gritted teeth.

“I think it’s for the best that you leave” urged Aemond, never taking his eye off Y/N as he opened his wallet and pressed some money into Alys’ palm.

“What?” gasped Alys as she closed her fingers around the notes Aemond had given her.

“Money for a taxi-I’ll call you tomorrow” urged Aemond waving his hand at Alys dismissively.

“Aemy baby-I thought we was-“ said Alys her voice low and saccharine.

“I said fuck off Alys” snapped Aemond.

“Fine. Your loss” retorted Alys as she spun on her high heels and stormed off.

Aemond watched with mild disinterest as Alys disappeared round the corner.

“You didn’t need to send her away” muttered Y/N.

“If I’m honest you did me a favour, I shouldn’t have brought her here the first place, as always she treats me like shit, then begs me to forgive her-“

“-So why did you-you know bring her here?” asked Y/N.

“Truthfully-I wanted sex, and it’s much easier than going to some dingy shit hole and putting in the effort to chat up some random that I can’t stand beyond my need to come”.

“Makes sense I suppose” muttered Y/N.

“Now tell me everything” urged Aemond as he took out a cigarette and quickly lit it.

Aemond smoked as he listened to Y/N, and as she spoke, he couldn’t help but notice how sweet she looked, her cheeks tinged pink and her plump juicy lips that would look great around his-

“-And that’s when I found them in bed together” muttered Y/N.

Aemond reached forward and gently brushed the stray tear from her cheek with his thumb.

“If you really want to get back at Aegon, play him at his own game” whispered Aemond as he discarded his cigarette, crushing the dock end under his boot.

“H-How?” asked Y/N wiping her nose on her sleeve.

“Fuck someone else, I mean do you really wanna be out here crying over his pathetic arse or do you want to show him that you don’t give a shit?” said Aemond.

“I guess-but I haven’t got that many friends, so I don’t know who would-” sniffed Y/N.

An opportunity to get one over on his cunt of a brother had never so gloriously presented itself before, and of course he was going to seize his chance, she was ripe for the picking, and he was going to devour her.

“-I’m more than willing to help you-if you ask nicely” muttered Aemond as he leaned forward and braced both hands on the wall beside her head.

His warm breath tickled her skin as he slowly ran his aquiline nose slowly up her cheek.

Y/N closed her eyes sighed, despite being with Aegon she had always found Aemond rather attractive, and despite her initial reservations surrounding his offer, she realised she would be a fool to pass up such an opportunity.

If Aegon could fuck her so called best friend, then she would fuck his brother.

“P-please” whispered Y/N as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her ear lobe.

“Oh, sweet girl-I know you can do better than that” whispered Aemond as reached down and slid his fingers past the waistband of her leggings.

“A-Aemond, please-I-I need you” moaned Y/N when she felt Aemond’s long fingers teasing her folds.

“Oh baby, I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’ll forget my brother’s name”.

Aemond pressed a finger to hips lips as he led Y/N through the flat he shared with Aegon, all the lights were off and everything was silent, no doubt his twat of a brother had fallen asleep.

Y/N eyed Aegon’s bedroom door nervously but she followed Aemond into his room, noticing how clean and organized it was compared to his brothers who in all honesty was a bit of a slob.

Aemond quietly shut the door, the lock sliding into place with a soft click.

“Last chance to back out baby” whispered Aemond as he crowded Y/N against his bedroom door.

Y/N shook her head as she pressed forward and claimed his lips with her own.

The kiss was filthy, it was depraved-gods it was fucking amazing. Aemond couldn’t help the small groan that escaped his tips as Y/N’s tongue slid against his.

Aemond slowly moved his hands down Y/N’s body before roughly grasping her ass and hauling her up against the door.

Y/N whimpers, gripping at Aemond’s shoulders as he slots himself between her legs, his tongue still invading her mouth.

Aemond presses himself against the apex of Y/N’s thighs, and he growls like an animal when she reaches down and palms his hard cock over his jeans.

“Fuck-“ groans Aemond as he begins grinding his clothed cock against her.

“Someone’s eager” whispered Y/N as she flicked her tongue against the corner of Aemond’s mouth.

“Oh, sweet girl you have no idea” quipped Aemond as she spun her off the door and carried her to his bed.

Soon their clothes are abandoned in a haphazard heap on the floor and Aemond was laid between Y/N open legs moving his fingers through her dripping folds as he expertly devoured her with his mouth, his nose bumping against her pearl as fucked her with his tongue.

Gods, she tasted delicious.

Aemond loved performing oral sex on women, something his past partners never complained about, but nothing compared to Y/N’s she was delicious in a way he’d never tasted before.

“Fuck,” squeaks Y/N as she grasps at the back of Aemond’s head, her fingers digging into his hair, holding him in place.

“You’re quite sensitive. Are you going to come already?” asked Aemond smugly.

Aemond alternates between using his fingers and tongue to bring Y/N to her peak.

Y/N arches her back as she comes, Aemond gently sucks on her pearl as she rides out the euphoria of her peak.

“Is that you done baby, or do you want more?” asked Aemond playfully, his chin shining with her slick.

“M-More, please” gasps Y/N as Aemond reaches forward and presses a singular kiss to her pearl before he quickly wipes his chin with his hand.

Aemond smirks as he removes his boxers, his hard cock slapping up against his abdomen,

Y/N looks at Aemond and her eyes widen, he was bigger than Aegon significantly so, his cock hard and heavy, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

“Don’t worry little mouse-it will fit” whispered Aemond as he presses his lips against Y/N’s in a heated kiss.

Aemond takes himself in his hand and guides his hard cock to Y/N entrance, pushing in slowly and pausing to give her a moment to adapt to his size.

After pressing a gentle kiss to Y/N’s lips, Aemond pulls out slowly and slides back in, his pace gentle and steady.

“I thought you said you were going to fuck me hard?” questioned Y/N.

Aemond lets out a pleased grunt and slams into Y/N hard, smiling as she let’s out a yelp of surprise.

The pace he sets is brutal, his hips slapping against hers.

Y/N moans desperately, as she moves her hips to meet his, attempting to allow his cock to reach deeper within her.

Aemond gets the hint, and quickly lifts Y/N’s legs over his shoulders, using the new angle to drive his cock even deeper than before.

“Tell me how it feels, Am I better than my brother” demands Aemond.

“It’s good, so good-yes-yes your so much better than him,”

Y/N praises sets something off inside Aemond as he continues to pound into her, the headboard banging against the wall from the force of his movements.

“Aemond, please, I’m close” whimpers Y/N.

Aemond moves a hand down to where the two of them are joined, and rubs Y/N’s pearl in quick circles, dragging her closer the edge of the precipice.

“I never want to leave this sweet pussy–fuck,” groans Aemond as he marks each of his words in tandem with a rough snap of his hips.

Y/N come with a loud, scream, her body shaking underneath Aemond’s as his thrusts grow sloppy.

“J-Just a little longer-fuck” groans Aemond as he slams into Y/N three more times before reaching his own peak, spilling rope after rope of seed inside her.

After a few moments, Aemond gently moves Y/N’s legs from his shoulders, his chest heaving with every breath he takes.

“I-I wasn’t too rough, was I?” asked Aemond.

“No. I-It was wonderful” exclaimed Y/N, her body shaking slightly.

Aemond smirks as he slowly removes his softened cock from her slick cunt, his singular eye fixated on the drops of seed that spill out.

He takes a finger to Y/N’s opening and pushes his seed back inside, delighting in her moan of surprise. He leans over to press a gentle kiss to her lips, before bringing his finger to his own mouth and sucking it clean.

Aemond laid down on the bed and pulled Y/N to him.

“Not tired, are you?” asked Aemond curiously as Y/N laid her head on his chest and began running her fingers through the sparse hair that graced his chest.

Y/N looked at him and smiled as she shook her head.

“Good, because I plan to fuck you so many times tonight that you cannot walk tomorrow”.

“Promises, promises” replied Y/N as she ran her tongue over his nipple.

Y/N started at her phone, another text from Aegon begging her to call him.

He seemed oblivious to the fact that she’d seen him in bed with Sara, initially she did think to give him a piece of her mind but then she decided it was for the best that she ignored him, she really couldn’t deal with any of his excuses at the moment.

Not when she’d spent the entire night getting fucked to within an inch her life by Aemond.

Never had she had so many orgasms in one night, the man was an absolute menace.

Aegon had never made her feel this way, he was a rather selfish lover in that respect, but Aemond, he was something else entirely.

He devoted himself into worshipping every inch of her body and boy was she feeling it today.

Every single muscle ached from being contorted into a number of different positions, Aemond had incredible stamina, the way he held her in his arms as he fucked her against the wall or the way he held her hips as she rode him, his cock reaching places that she never knew existed.

Her phone buzzed again and just as she was about to tell Aegon to go fuck himself, she noticed that it was Aemond who had text her.

Gods, Aemond was on his way over, it had barely been twenty-four hours and he was already desperate for her.

But in truth she was just as desperate, she craved him on a whole other level and her heart fluttered at the thought of seeing him again.

Soon she heard a knock her door and she took a brief pause before she answered it.

She smiled as she saw Aemond leaning against the wall, dressed head to toe in black, a half-finished cigarette hanging from his delectable mouth.

“Come in” said Y/N as she opened the door wider.

“Don’t worry little mouse, I intend to” replied Aemond as he stubbed his cigarette out and entered her flat.

This was how it was between them, over the next few weeks.

Aemond would come to her flat and fuck her on every available surface, she lived alone so they were free to explore one another for as long as they desired.

Sometimes Aemond would sneak her into his room at the flat he shared with Aegon and have her in every way imaginable.

Once he had her pressed against his door with his cock deep inside her as his brother was on the other side complaining that he was making too much noise.

Y/N knew she should put Aegon out of his misery and end their relationship, but the things she would do with Aemond were beyond anything she’d ever experienced with his brother, it made her feel wanted.

It was passionate and all consuming, Aemond was like her own personal drug, she was addicted to him, and she had no remorse about indulging in her habit.

Aemond had invaded every single part of her mind, body and soul.

Even when she was at work, she would find herself reminiscing over their time together, how he sounded when she sunk to her knees and took his cock in her mouth or the way his muscles would tense as he thrust inside her.

She also loved his dominate streak, he would tie her up and blindfold her, as he devoured her cunt, or he would spank her as he fucked her from behind.

Later that day Aemond had picked her up from work and took her back to his flat, after he’d stripped her of her clothes he’d slid down her body, spreading her thighs further apart, so he could get a good look at his sought-after prize.

“Such a pretty cock sleeve" breathed Aemond as he ran the flat of his tongue up Y/N’s soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Y/N her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it. Let me hear you”.

“YES! It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please”

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Y.N, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Y/N

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh, fuck"

Y/N was giving off a slew of loud swear words, moans, and pleas, that surely Aegon would hear.

Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, come for me” moaned Aemond.

Gods he was so hard, it was almost painful.

Finally, he felt Y/N’s inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Her back arched taut as a bow, and she screamed her release.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at her whilst she came. Soon her tense body went slack and pliant.

“I need you NOW!!”

Aemond couldn't wait any longer. He surged up and ploughed his hard cock into Y/N’s soaked cunt.

"AEMOND!" shouted Y/N, her eyes popping open from her post-orgasm haze.

"You feel so good" rasped Aemond.

"Fuck me, Aemond" urged Y/N, her tone bordering on desperate as she thrust her hips upward towards his.

Aemond chuckled and bit down lightly on a nipple, making Y/N moan and squirm.

He started to thrust slowly, trying to prolong the feel of his her squeezing his cock.

"Faster, Aemond" begged Y/N.

"Patience" chided Aemond as he ran his nose up her neck.

“Yes, Aemond, just like that-" panted Y/N.

Her hands ran over his arms, over his shoulders, and down his back. Her nimble fingers mapped his back muscles and then went down to his arse and gripped him - pressing him into her harder.

“Gods" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly.

"Fuck me, Aemond" whispered Y/N "Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me, filling me up. Give me what I need. Make me scream, make me come”.

Aemond knew exactly what Y/N was doing, and he couldn’t help himself.

Y/N wanted faster, and he was going much faster now; so much for having the control in the situation. His pace had increased with every filthy word that dropped from Y/N’s luscious lips.

Now he was quickly thrusting in and out, shaking the bed, the headboard banging loudly against the wall.

Y/N was meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Aemond! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Y/N; not caring if Aegon would hear them.

Y/N always looked amazing when she came. Her head thrown back in pleasure, her eyes alive with lust, and her skin shining with sweat.

“Fuck” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he spilled his seed inside Y/N’s wet heat.

It took a good while for Aemond to regain his senses.

Y/N was laid underneath him completely blissed out; their sweaty bodies pressed together.

“Mine” whispered Aemond in his post orgasm haze.

Y/N hummed as Aemond pulled his softened cock from her and flopped down onto the bed beside her.

Aemond placed his hand on her stomach and sighed contentedly as his fingers drew patterns on her skin.

Y/N closed her eyes and pressed her face into the soft sheets, laying with Aemond after sex was always nice, he would often pull her body to his and bury his nose in her hair, or he would haul her over his body, so she was practically laid on top of him.

Aemond seemed to like he closeness and if Y/N was honest she didn’t mind it either, Aegon was never much of a cuddler after sex, he just kind of rolled off her and went to sleep.

As her eyes began to drop, Y/N realised that she needed to officially end her relationship with Aegon, he still kept trying to call and text her, even Sara had tried the cheeky bitch. However, it still baffled Y/N that Aegon would even think that they were still together, especially after she’d been ghosting him for the last few weeks.

Y/N did wonder what Aegon’s reaction would be when he found out that she had been having sex with his brother, but it wasn’t like he could take the moral high ground given what he’d done with Sara.

No doubt he’d throw a hissy fit and try to play the victim like he did in most of the situations he found himself in, but things needed to change, and they never would unless it was her taking the steps to make those changes.

Where Aemond factored into that, Y/N didn’t know as they hadn’t really talked of exploring anything beyond their sexual involvement, it was only when she thought about it that Y/N realised that she wanted more, but she was too anxious to say anything to Aemond just in case he didn’t feel the same way.

But as the saying goes when one thing goes right in your life, another thing will go spectacularly wrong.

A few days later whilst she was at work Y/N was staring at her phone, she’d just got a calendar notification and was horrified to see that her period was long overdue. So, on her lunch break she rushed to the chemist to buy a pregnancy test.

As she returned to work, she hid the box inside her jacket, not wanting anyone to see it.

She bypassed her boss when she returned and sat in the toilets reading the instructions and making sure she peed on the stick properly.

Suddenly a soft knock at the door, distracted her attention from what she was doing.

“Just a second” said Y/N loudly as she held her hand between her legs.

“Boss wants you to stack the new delivery”.

“I said just a second, I’m trying to fucking pee” snapped Y/N.

“Ok but hurry up, you know what he gets like”.

“Fucking pain in the arse” muttered Y/N.

All she wanted was five fucking minutes, sure she should have waited until she got back to her flat to do this, but she couldn’t. She needed to know. Now.

“Fuck-fuck-fuck-please” muttered Y/N as she glanced at the ceiling of her bathroom.

Her hands shook as she tightly gripped the pregnancy test. After taking a deep shuddering breath she turned it over.

“Shit” exclaimed Y/N the tears welling in her eyes.

She was pregnant, with Aemond’s baby.

#house of the dragon #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #hotd fic #aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen #hotd aegon

289 notes · View notes