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gurugirl · 9 months ago

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Sex Tutor

Summary: Harry's got a reputation on campus and you're curious to know if he can help you.

A/N: Requested! Thank y'all for being patient with me! Hope you enjoy! This will be 2 parts!!

Word Count: 10k

Warning: smut (oral sex), fluff, praise kink

. . .

“Yeah… that was good. I liked it.”

That wasn’t the reaction you were hoping to get. You thought Gunther would be a lot more enthusiastic after coming in your mouth and you swallowing him down. You gave it your best work. You even choked a couple of times and you did hear him moan once or twice. But that didn’t feel like enough

You wanted to ask him exactly what went wrong. Tips on what he liked and didn’t. What you could do better next time… But instead, he just smiled and kissed your cheek, avoiding your mouth because obviously kissing the lips that had just sucked his cock would be gross.

So you left his dorm feeling a little disappointed in yourself. Annoyed really. You wished you were more bold and could just ask him what he wanted, what he liked most. You complained to your roommate even. She loved giving advice so you were always venting to her.

“Well, you know there’s like this guy on campus who will walk you through that kind of thing… a sex tutor if you will. Let’s just say that he comes highly recommended. I know someone who hung out with him a few times, and she learned so much about her body and how good sex could feel without coming but he always made her come every time, and no man has ever done that to her before she told me.”

“A tutor for blow jobs?” You scrunched your face and giggled.

“Well, blow jobs and everything else really. I don’t know. He gets around and they say he’s very knowledgeable about the body and sex. I think he’s like getting his masters in sexual health or something?”

You shoved at her shoulder and laughed, “Oh my god I don’t think so. That sounds crazy. He’s probably some weird pervert or something.”

Your roommate turned her cellphone screen to face you, showing you an Instagram page with a photo of a very attractive young man you’d seen on campus a time or two.

“That’s him?” Your eyes widened as you looked from the photo to your roommate.

“Yup. He’s not a weirdo either. I hear he’s super respectful and smart. Plus the bonus is that he looks like this.”

You nodded. That certainly was a bonus. Harry Styles. You knew about him from the student council. He did a lot of volunteering on campus and he was a graduate student so you didn’t know him all that well, being only a sophomore yourself, but it was hard not to at least know the name and the face. He was popular. Clearly far more popular than you even realized.

And you definitely weren’t going to reach out for a “session”. That just felt silly. Though, you couldn’t say you weren’t intrigued by the idea, it just wasn’t for you. Except that when Gunther didn’t text or call you back for three full days, the whole time you wondered if your blow job was that bad. So when he did finally text you back to make plans for the following week, you felt like you were being given another chance to prove how good you could be. And maybe a lesson or two could be useful.

Reaching out to him via DMs on Instagram felt so unserious but you still did it. You cringed as you hit send and read over your message three times.

Hi! I heard you give special “tutoring” sessions and wanted to know if you have some time to meet with me to set something up? Let me know if it’s okay.

You couldn’t believe you were doing this, reaching out to a stranger for, basically, a booty call. But apparently he was used to it and had no qualms about responding to you in less than thirty minutes. As if he was running some kind of business.

Hi! Happy to meet up with you either tonight or Friday night. The initial meeting should only take like 20 minutes, somewhere public so you feel comfortable. I’ll ask you a few questions and then we’ll set up a private one-on-one session together if it makes sense for both of us. No pressure ever. Whenever you’re ready.

Private one-on-one session. You rolled your eyes as you read over Harry’s response.

Tonight is good for me if you can fit me in. Whatever time you want.

You didn’t know what to expect. You imagined he was cocky since he was apparently so good and sought after. Perhaps he would take one look at you and turn around. You were sure he had a say in who he “tutored”. Doubted he took on every single person who reached out to him.

Your roommate said he was respectful but you would place money on the fact that he was probably full of himself, being that he was a self-proclaimed Sex Guru. You were preparing yourself for someone with a larger-than-life personality.

You kept your outfit casual, not wanting to look like you were trying too hard. Jeans and a hoodie. Though you did shower and put on nice panties and made sure you smelled good. Just in case. One never knows when they are due to visit with a sex tutor.

Maud’s was one of your favorite spots on campus. They had the best iced matcha latte and that’s just what you ordered yourself when you arrived. You sat down at a small table and faced toward the door so you could keep an eye out.

You were looking down at your cell phone when you heard the chime of the door. Flitting your eyes up and away from the screen of your phone you scanned the entry and spotted him right away.

He was wearing a black pullover hoodie and jeans. His hair all tousled like he’d just finished a “tutoring” session. You raised your hand to wave at him and catch his attention and he grinned as you stood up but he gestured for you to stay seated, “I’ll be right back. Just gonna order a drink.”

You were already feeling hot and embarrassed. God, what were you doing? The man was sex on legs and that deep, raspy voice he just spoke to you with had your insides twisting and turning all mushy.

When he returned he had an iced tea and he sat across from you. The smile on his face was kind. Open. It set you at ease a bit.

He took a sip through his straw and you noted the rings on his fingers and the nail polish on his nails, “So, Y/n. It’s nice to meet you in person. What are you majoring in?”

Okay. Small talk. You could handle that.

You told him your classes and what you were majoring in and then asked him the same and when he explained he was going for his doctorate in psychology with the intent to become a sex therapist you felt your heart thump wildly. He was gorgeous and going for a doctorate. The man was so beyond out of your league that you wondered why he was even sitting at that table with you entertaining this silly request of yours.

“Wow. That’s… I’m impressed.”

He grinned and you saw a dimple carve into his cheek, “Thank you. I’ve worked really hard to get where I am. Still working, though. So let’s talk about what you want. What things are you interested in getting some guidance on?”

Here it was. The moment you’d been dreading. But also what you were most curious about.

“Well, I’m seeing this guy and,” you took a breath. It was embarrassing to say it so casually at a café on campus of all places.

Harry reached toward you and placed his warm palm over the top of yours, “Hey, I know this feels weird. Doing this. I’m not going to pressure you to say it if you find it’s too uncomfortable but just know,” he dipped his head down to meet your gaze with his brows gently raised, “Everything you tell me here will be kept confidential and private. I’m not going to make fun of you or compare you to anyone else. If you change your mind, that’s okay too. I want you to feel like you’re talking to a friend. Okay? It’s up to you how much or how little you say. We move at your pace.”

You let out the breath you were holding and smiled. He was so – nice. He made you feel so at ease.

“Thank you. It’s weird. Yeah… but I think I’m okay. I want to do this. I want to be better at like,” you looked around yourself and lowered your voice as Harry moved his hand from yours and you settled your gaze back on his, “Better at giving blow jobs. And maybe like initiating more?”

He nodded, “Okay. Have you ever given a blow job before?”

You nodded, “Recently. The guy didn’t seem very enthusiastic about it so I didn’t know if I did something wrong.”

He took a sip of his tea and his green irises bored into yours, “I can tell you one thing I know that is true for nearly every single male I know; they love getting head. Even if he wasn’t vocal he probably really enjoyed whatever you did. Does that make you feel better about your skill level?”

You puffed out a laugh and saw the smirk on his face. He was trying to get you to smile, “I don’t know. Probably. I’m sure I’m overthinking it but I just wanted… like I want to be really good. Want to know tricks to get a real response.”

“Did the guy you’re seeing orgasm?”

You nodded again.

Harry’s grin softened, “Then you did as good as you could have. Goal achieved. He orgasmed and you made that happen.”

“But I want to be better. Like… I really enjoyed what I was doing. Made me really… well…” you looked down at your empty mug and sighed, “I felt like I enjoyed it more than he did.”

He nodded and licked his lips and if you didn’t know any better you’d say he was kind of checking you out. You weren’t wearing anything revealing but he seemed to keep dropping his gaze to your lips and neck. But you figured that was because he was still getting used to your face and he was sussing you out a bit to see if he wanted anything to do with you beyond this conversation.

But that was true. He was checking you out. He saw your Instagram pictures before he contacted you (always his first step) and thought you were cute and wouldn’t mind seeing you in person. He certainly wasn't disappointed by you when he saw you either. You were cute and a little nervous and when you started talking about how you enjoyed giving that loser a blow job he couldn’t help but shift his eyes down to your mouth and imagine what your lips would look like on his cock. He wondered if you’d be just as eager to suck him off as you seemed like you were for the other guy.

Now, Harry was a polite and nice man. He was as respectful as they came. But he was still a man with a very high sex drive and he couldn’t help it. He did enjoy having sex and he got a lot of ass because he was good at what he did. And he was under no allusion that it also didn’t have anything to do with how attractive he was. Because of course, it did. He was aware of the way women looked at him and all the whispers about him on campus. And most of the time the sessions were just fun sex more than anything else. However, he happily gave guidance when needed.

And this time he was feeling pretty gung-ho to see what you could do. He’d like to get started right away, which normally he’d wait until after the initial meeting before jumping into it but there was something about the way you were looking at him, your eyes hungry and inviting…

You watched Harry shift in his chair and look around the café before he looked back at you, “What are you doing right now? Like after this?”

“Oh… nothing. Was gonna read a little, prep for a test I have on Monday. But…” you shook your head.

“Would you be interested in going somewhere more private? My studio is at the off-campus university apartments. Twenty-minute walk from here.”

Was he…? You scrunched your brows, confused at the sudden invite to his place.

“It’s up to you. I’m not rushing you or anything I just have a free evening and you seem really enthusiastic and I’d like to kind of get a feel for what we’re working with. If you think you’re ready.”

You nodded, “Okay. I mean… yeah. So no roommates?” You laughed nervously as he stood up and it was the first time you let your attention fall to the space at his crotch, to which you quickly bobbed your eyes back up to his face as you stood.

“Nope. Co-ed apartments. No roommate. Super private.” He didn’t miss the way you scraped your eyes over his torso and down to the spot on his jeans where his zipper was.

So that was that then. You’d be getting a lesson sooner than you imagined. And when you walked the twenty minutes through campus and the street that was just adjacent to the cafeteria you could almost hear your heart pounding. He was taller than you expected. He easily kept the conversation alive with small talk. He seemed so confident and easygoing. You tried to let that charisma and charm soak through your veins so that you weren’t as nervous as you felt, but it was impossible. You were about to go into Harry Style’s apartment alone and probably give him a blow job.

Harry waved at a few people on your way up to his floor. He was clearly popular. You wondered if anyone knew what might be happening. Why you were with him and why you were following behind him like you were a pup being trained and he was carrying a treat.

“Here she is,” he opened his door and gestured for you to walk inside. Neat and tidy with stacks of books and lots of plants. Some plants hanging, most potted, and on the floor or on tables. You noted he had no television and that there was a big partition that separated the small living space from what was probably where he had his bed. The kitchen was organized with open shelving and he’d bought a wire rack and it was stacked full of packaged foods, spices, oil, and other things to cook with at the top and at the bottom with pots and pans and a blender with its cord neatly wrapped around the base.

He excused himself to the bathroom while you looked around. There wasn’t anywhere to go really. There were two doors in the whole place. The bathroom door and another one, which you assumed was a closet. The kitchen area was open to the small living space.

When Harry emerged he sat down on the couch, which looked well-worn. You wondered how many people he’d had over and on that very couch. He sat with his legs spread and drew his arms over the back of the couch and just watched as you stepped in closer toward the small coffee table, “I like all the plants,” you commented.

He nodded and you clasped your hands behind your back in wait for what would happen next. You didn’t want to look again at his crotch. But the way he was sitting made it hard. He took up so much space on that couch and with his legs spread open like they were, it was almost as if he wanted you to.

“Gonna sit with me? I’m not gonna do anything if you don’t want.”

You nodded and sat down, keeping your limbs close to your body and separate from him. You didn’t want to invade his space or get in too close. Not yet anyway. Not until he invited you. Or rather, until he told you what to do next.

“Everything I said at Maud’s still stands. If you change your mind that’s fine. I’m not going to be mad.”

You turned to look at him and swallowed. The guy was out of this world. Simply delicious looking. “Okay.” You spoke in barely above a whisper.

Harry leaned forward, putting his elbows over his knees as he kept his eyes on you, “Is this how you usually initiate?”

You raised your brows and shook your head, “What?”

“You said you wanted to be better at initiating. So far, I’m not getting any signals that you’re interested. Could be your first problem. Try relaxing a little, Y/n. Sit back and unhook your fingers. Loosen your shoulders. Not only will you feel more settled, but you’ll make the person with you feel better too. Which could push you to naturally begin conversation or movements that encourage contact.”

“Oh. Okay,” you sat back into his couch and loosed your hands, relaxing your posture, and looked at him, “Like this?”

Harry grinned and let out a small laugh, “Perfect. Now at least it appears you’re not scared of me.”

“I’m not scared,” you quickly shook your head.

“I didn’t think you were. But your body language was giving closed-off signals. Which could appear to some like fear or discomfort.”

It made sense you guessed.

“I see. So, relax and it makes everyone feel better.”

He grinned, “So tell me what normally happens when you’re with someone and it leads to something sexual. Set the scene for me.”

You cleared your throat and decided to use your last time with Gunther as the example.

“Well, we were in his dorm room listening to music and laughing about something–“

“Back up a little. Did you invite yourself to his room? Did he invite you? What happened before you got to his room?”

“Oh, uh…” you pursed your lips in thought. “Well, we were out with two mutual friends. At a bar. Gunther, his name is Gunther, he was kind of flirting with me and I liked it. We didn’t really know each other all that well before but I always found him interesting. And so… he was flirting with me. Complimenting me. Things like that. Then he asked me to go back to his room with him. So, I sort of figured something would happen,” you shrugged. You didn’t know why it was so weird telling him all those details but it was.

You recounted how Gunther had made all the moves; kissed you first, groped you and then somehow it ended up with you sucking him off while he laid back on his bed and you were between his legs.

“And… he didn’t return the favor? Like you didn’t get anything?”

You shook your head, “I mean, I didn’t ask. He got off and then that was it really. I left not long after.”

Harry frowned, “Okay. And did you hope he’d do something in return? Like, use his hands or his mouth on you? Did you want more?”

Another shrug of your shoulders, “I mean… I didn’t expect it. Thought maybe next time we could do more? I don’t know.”

“You didn’t expect it. But would you have liked it?”

Nodding your head you looked away from his eyes, “I guess.”

“Did it turn you on?”

Another embarrassing thing to admit to someone you hardly knew. You nodded again, “It just all happened really quickly. I kind of thought things would take longer and we’d chat and maybe he’d have me stay longer and then… well anyway. It was like a total of thirty minutes or something that I was in his room.”

Harry sighed and crossed his leg over his thigh toward you, “And you really want to give Gunther the best head you can? The guy who wasn’t worried about your own needs? Seems very selfless of you, Y/n.”

You let out a breath and laughed, “I know. I just want to be good at it. And that was the first time we did anything so I figured I’d give him a pass.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you. Gunther is lucky you’re still willing to give him another shot.”

“I guess I thought if I was better he’d want to do it more and maybe then we could do other things too.”

“I’m going to be honest, Y/n,” Harry stretched his arm across the back of the couch, “You’re very cute and you probably won’t need to worry much about initiating most of the time. Like, for me, all you have to do is look at me with those pretty eyes and I’m ready to do whatever you want me to.”

It had been a surprise to hear that. You weren’t sure what to do with that information but you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you looked down at your lap.

“But a good start is to keep eye contact. At least enough to indicate interest. Can you look at me?”

Lifting your gaze to his he grinned, “There we go. So pretty.”

You shook your head, “I’m sure you say that to everyone.”

Harry lifted his hand to your cheekbone, “No. I don’t. And I don’t do this with just anyone either. Sometimes I turn down a request. I don’t tell them why but… There’s gotta be attraction on my end as well. And I find you very attractive, Y/n.”

You swallowed down the saliva in your throat and blinked for a break in eye contact before biting your lip.

“Now, even though we’re here for one thing, I do have opinions on matters of the heart and relationships. And frankly, I have to be honest about this Gunther, guy,” he dropped his hand, making his fingers brush down your cheek until he was no longer touching you, “I don’t like that he didn’t offer to get you off too. That’s a big red flag in my book. I feel it’s important to give and to receive unless it’s explicitly stated at the beginning. But you told me you thought you’d get more. And that bothers me.”

“Well, he’s a nice guy. I think he just wasn’t thinking…”

“He wasn’t thinking about your needs. That was selfish of him and something to watch out for. We can give him a pass for the first time, but if you see him again and he still doesn’t think about your needs, I’d hope you’d end that relationship and seek someone who’s willing to be less selfish with you.”

It surprised you that Harry was saying that about Gunther. But perhaps he was right. You did leave his dorm that night quite disappointed.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I know you barely know me but that’s just my take. I’d never not offer to return the favor,” he kept his eyes on yours and you swore his lips were suddenly a shade darker. They looked like the perfect lips to kiss.

He grinned when he noted where your eyes were homed in on, “Do you mind coming closer? Feels like you're still too far away.”

You puffed out a nervous laugh as you scooted your bottom in closer toward Harry. His arm was draped over the back of the couch behind you and you felt the warmth of him before you felt his fingers graze the back of your neck.

“So, I can kiss you? Can we start there?”

You breathed out through your nose and smiled as you nodded and kept your face angled toward his. He watched as you hesitantly put your palm on his knee and he put his hand over yours, “You’re a natural. See?”

Another soft laugh fell from your mouth as Harry’s face drew in closer to yours and your heart stopped as he nudged his nose into yours and you felt his soft lips smush against yours.

It didn’t take long for you to start feeling that familiar heat between your legs as he ran his tongue against yours. It felt so intimate… not like a tutor lesson or anything of the sort. It was you and a handsome man making out on his couch as he pulled you onto his lap. It felt real.

For some reason, you imagined it being a little more dry. Like a real lesson. Like he’d pull his pants down and tell you what to do and show you what he liked and what really made men go wild. You hadn’t imagined kissing being part of the equation for some reason.

“Did he tell you how soft your lips are or how those sweet little noises coming from your mouth drove him crazy?”

He spoke his words between kisses and you were going to pass out. Because no, Gunther gave you no compliments once you got into his dorm room.

You shook your head as you parted from the kiss, your eyes on his.

Harry’s eyes roved your face as he softly dragged his thumb back and forth on your jaw, “I don’t like him one bit. You deserve someone who’s going to tell you how good you are and how good you make them feel.”

He softly pressed his lips against yours again, the kiss heating up into a frenzied pace once again as you stuffed your fingers into his hair and then you felt the bulk of his erection under your thigh when you moved in closer.

Parting from the kiss you looked down and then back up at him and he just smiled. Like it was the most normal and natural thing ever. Which… it kind of was.

“Got me all hard already,” he slid his thumb from the edge of your bottom lip inward and you moaned, “Just like that. You’re already better than you think you are. You’re driving me crazy, Y/n. I want to see what these lips look like wrapped around my cock. Can we do that?”

You nodded and began to move off of him but Harry took your hand in his, making you pause, “I’ll let you get me off if you let me get you off too. Okay?”

Your eyes widened, “Really? I thought this was just for–“

“I have a method and it always includes getting the other person off too. Or at least making them feel good. Unless you don’t want that. That’s okay too, but I would prefer to touch you as well.”

“Okay,” your words were breathy as he helped you off his lap, keeping your hand in his but then he stood up and you watched as he ran his free hand over his crotch, “Is it okay if we do it my bed? A little more space there. Think it’ll feel less rushed.”

Obviously yes. You wouldn’t dream of saying no to this man. Not that you wanted to.

The space behind the partition was just a bed and one side table. His bed was neatly made and there was a plant hanging by the opening of the partition. He gestured for you to follow him onto his mattress and he placed his back at the wall, where he had no headboard.

Kneeing up to him you were feeling shy again and he leaned forward and cupped your face with one hand, “You’re doing so good. If you need to stop at any time just say the word. I’m not here to make you do something you don’t want. Okay?”

You nodded, “Yeah. I know. I trust you.”

“Good. Just wanted to remind you is all. I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep going even if I’m enjoying it, which I have a feeling I’m gonna like whatever you do to me.”

You giggled and nodded. He was fluffing up your ego and you hadn’t even really gotten started yet.

Harry started to push his jeans down, lifted his hips to get them off his legs, and then kept his eyes on you as he held his hand out for you to take, “Come here.”

You put your hand in his and let yourself get pulled between his legs as you looked down at the sizable lump under his boxer briefs, “Can we take your jeans off? Kind of want to have you in my lap a little while before we get down to it, yeah?”

You nodded and unhooked your button before pulling your zipper down. Harry’s hands found your hips as you tugged your jeans down and he helped you out of them, leaving you in just your hoodie and panties. Like Harry. He was just in his boxer briefs and his hoodie too.

You crawled into his lap, your thighs straddling his, and sat down as Harry smoothed his hands up and down your thighs, “There we go. This feels nice, having you close like this,” he ran his palms toward your bottom and then back down your thighs to your knees, “How are you feeling?”

You put your palms on his shoulders, “Good. Feel good. And you?”

“I’m feeling great. I’ve got you here in my lap,” he brought a hand up from your thigh to your face, his fingers sliding behind your ear with his thumb at your cheekbone, “And I like you. I think this’ll be fun. Just want you to feel at ease with me.”

You shifted on his lap, getting in closer, “I do feel at ease with you, Harry. You’re really nice.”

“Good. That’s what I want to hear,” his voice was soft as he gently pulled you towards him and pressed his mouth against yours again. His kiss was soft and sultry. Harry was far more sensual than you imagined he would be. Lots of soft touches and reassuring words. And his mouth against yours was addictive.

You moaned when his thumb ran along the edge of your panties at your thigh and you rocked your hips down, pressing your panties-covered pussy over his erection.

He inhaled softly through his teeth and lowered his mouth to your neck where you were melted into him. His warm mouth sponged wet kisses down your pulse point as you lowered a hand to the top of his cock.

He sighed when you began to rub your palm over him and you began to move back. You were ready to get him in your mouth.

“You can bring me out if you want. Or I can do it. Whichever you’re more comfortable with.”

You bit your lip and continued palming over him as you kept your gaze focused on his, “I’ll do it. Do guys like that more?”

He grinned and the dimples that carved into his cheeks had you swooning, “Yeah. Maybe. Depends on the guy but it can feel like the girl is really excited, like she can’t wait – the enthusiasm is nice. For me? I do like it more. But honestly, I wouldn’t complain if you wanted me to do it myself.”

You nodded in understanding as you focused on the dark green material of his underwear and reached toward the waistband. You looked up at him once more to check in and he just gave you a singular nod to keep going so you did.

The material was warm and stretchy. And you loved the way it felt to run your palm up the length of him, before peeling the fabric away and slowly revealing his cock. His tip was thick and smooth and dark pink. And then his shaft was girthy, quite meaty really, but so stiff. And when you’d pulled his underwear down far enough you took the whole of him in and it was… well it was a bit overwhelming. There was no way on God’s green earth you’d be able to stick that whole thing in your mouth.

“You don’t have to have it all in there. This isn’t a porno. I don’t need you to choke on it or anything like that. Use your hands and your mouth, as long as it’s nice and wet it’s gonna feel really good.”

You nodded. It was a relief that he wasn’t expecting you to deepthroat that thing, “Do you like it when someone can take it all the way?”

Harry breathed a laugh out of his nostrils, “Well… only if the person giving head likes that kind of thing. I would never enjoy it if someone wasn’t into that. But yes. I do rather like it. Not more than any other type of blow job, though.”

You gulped and continued palmed at his length softly. Harry kept his eyes on you to watch how you’d do it. To see what your go-to move was and when you made no move he finally spoke, “Go in however you want. Let’s see how you normally go about giving a blow job.”

“Okay. Yeah…” You took a deep breath and lowered yourself down as he fixed his feet flat on the mattress with knees bent upward, making space for you to fit between his thighs. First, you spat over his tip and used your hand to rub your saliva down his shaft. A quick glance up at him and he looked like he was enjoying it.

After spitting another glob over his slit that clung to your lips a little longer than it did the first time things were feeling much wetter. You stroked along the full length of his cock, from base to tip, tip to base, and back again as you lowered further, getting your lips just over his tip, and looked up at him, swiping your tongue over his crown. Smooth and warm. Adjusting your hips you got into a better position and gripped his base with both hands as you began to take him in your mouth. Your tongue cupped the underside of his cock as you dipped down and pulled up, suckling at his tip before repeating.

Harry’s fingers gently pushed at your chin, “I’d like you to do one thing for me, Y/n…” your eyes shot up to his, “Can you keep your eyes on me, just like you’re doing right now?”

You pulled off and nodded, “Yeah. Sorry.”

Harry tutted at you, “You didn’t do anything wrong. Just really fond of your pretty eyes. Personal preference is all.”

Keeping your gaze on his you kissed his tip softly and slowly before tonguing at his frenulum. It was a good thing you were looking at him in that moment because the expression on his face as you ran your tongue along the underside of his cockhead was lascivious and the sudden heat between you two might not have been noticed if you hadn’t been looking at him.

When you lowered your lips over him again, hollowing your cheeks and cupping the underside of his dick with your tongue, he palmed over your cheek and softly thumbed at your temple, “Y/n… fuck… that’s really good. Keep looking at me like this pretty girl.”

The soft touch from his hand and thumb on your face was full of affection and made your heart thunder in your chest. It made you dizzy the way he was looking at you. It was such a lewd act but somehow filled with tenderness.

The drool that leaked out of your mouth and down his shaft allowed your hands to slip around his base, twisting as you bobbed over the first bit of him with your mouth. It seemed like he was really enjoying what you were doing. Having your eyes on him while you were doing it felt more encouraging than embarrassing.

And Harry was very much enjoying what you were doing. He wasn’t all that picky when it came to getting blow jobs. Why would he be? Some hot girl wanted him to show her how to be better? Well, he rarely did much in the way of making someone any better than they already were.

Harry never intended to be known as a sex tutor or a sex guru. He was just a guy who loved sex. A guy who was patient and who really did care about the person he was with, even if it was just a one-time thing (which most of them were). And his line of studies gave him insight many lacked. The more he slept around (safely) the better he got and the more he understood. He put into practice the things he learned in his classes and when he was a Junior after a string of hookups with a group of very popular seniors he started to get a reputation.

It started with comments and discussions on the size of his cock. Then it eventually escalated to him being very good in bed. And how he could always make a woman come (he didn’t always make them come but he certainly tried and he learned the art of allowing sex to just be something that felt good and intimate and didn’t have to end in that elusive orgasm every time).

The first girl who was bold enough to ask him if he’d help her get to know her body better, had told him how she heard he was the best… and that had caught off guard. But he gave it a go. And he wound up enjoying the whole thing so much that when another girl asked him for help he decided there was no harm in going along with it.

He wasn’t trying to take advantage of anyone, as some jealous of his prowess would make it seem. No, he just really wanted to help, he loved that connection and to have it end with sex (in whatever form) was never a bad thing. Mostly he was just having fun and if he could use some of his knowledge and give someone confidence by the end of a “session” then so be it.

When you sucked around him, slurping noises came from between your lips and the skin on his shaft and he moaned, “Oh that’s good…” He gently placed a hand at the back of your neck and nudged his hips upward the slightest when he felt his cock start to throb and balls tightened.

Harry pulled at you to bring you up so you slid your lips from his tip and looked at him with pretty rounded eyes as you sat on your knees.

“You’re perfect. If I had you sucking me off like this every day I’d have no complaints. That’s the work of someone who’s into it and I can tell you are. Got me so close to coming already,” he took your hand and kissed the tops of your knuckles. Yeah, you were already smitten with him. But maybe that was just because you liked his praise so much.

“Thank you,” you grinned shyly.

Harry took the hand he kissed and brought it down between his legs, sliding your fingers on the underside of his balls, “There’s this spot right here. Kind of smooth. Feel that?”

You nodded.

“It’s called the perineum. This spot,” he pressed the pad of your middle finger over the area of skin, “Feels really good when you rub it gently. Especially while you’re also giving a blow job. Maybe take my balls in your palm a little to massage them and then move to the perineum. Just about any man you suck off is gonna absolutely love it. It’s also a really good trick when you just want the guy to come already, ‘cause maybe he’s taking too long,” he grinned.

He dragged your hand up to cup his scrotum and you kept your eyes on his as you softly squeezed. Harry’s brows narrowed and his lips parted, “Let’s do that yeah? Wanna give it a go?”

Nodding, you lowered yourself again, your lips parting around his crown as you gently massaged his balls and kept your eyes angled up toward his. You kept one hand at the base of his shaft and felt the full, warmth of his sac in your palm before you pulled off of his cock and dropped your lips down to his balls, kissing the skin all around and skimming your tongue through every crevice and wrinkle, wetting him on all sides.

You remembered you were supposed to be looking up at him and when you saw his face it only egged you on. His soft groan and pink puffy lips parted in lust with hooded eyes so you wound your tongue down further and pressed the tip of your wet muscle to the spot he called the perineum.

“Fuck! Yes…”

You liked that reaction. So you did it again and used your hand on his shaft to continue pumping him in long strokes as you pressed over the small strip of skin under his scrotum before you brought your tongue all the way up over his balls and to his base. The pre-come dripping from his tip made things wetter as you slid your palm over him.

You kept one finger on his perineum and then brought your mouth back over his cock and the desperate whimper that fell from his lungs made you feel giddy. You sucked him in and flicked your sight up to him but his eyes were closed. You could feel his legs trembling as your shoulder was pressed into his inner thigh. Gently you brought your hand over his scrotum and massaged as you worked his tip with your lips and tongue.

He placed both of his hands on either side of your head, “Y/n… yes… honey I’m gonna come. That’s so good. You’re so good for me… holy shit… where do you want me to come, huh?”

You were kind of amazed at how he was so melty and whimpery from the blow job you were giving him. You lifted and looked up at him, “Just come in my mouth. Want you to feel good.”

He nodded as he panted and you put your lips back on him, lowering down and sucking as you used your tongue to apply pressure to his crown. Continuing to play with his balls and peek up at him you saw the moment his face scrunched up and his lips dropped open wide. No sound came out at first but you tasted the first pump of his come down your throat and then felt his big cock throbbing against your tongue and it was the hottest blow job you’d ever given. And you weren’t even receiving… the reaction he gave you had you so turned on and so dizzy that you felt the need to take him deeper.

You forced yourself down further, feeling his tip nudging and spurting at the top part of your throat and you swallowed around him before sputtering slightly.

When he finally began to moan it was deep and throaty. His head was tilted back, facing the ceiling as he pumped into your mouth and down your throat. The hands he held at the side of your face were gentle and honestly? You were in heaven. You could do this with him every day if he let you.

And you tried not comparing Gunther to Harry but it was hard. Harry was so masculine and his cock was prettier and much bigger. With Gunther, you could almost take all of him in your mouth without much issue. You didn’t but you probably could have. Harry was a different story. His big cock filled up all the space in your mouth and he smelled so good too. It was a mix of what you assumed was his natural smell with a clean powdery soap.

But it was the moans Harry was making that had you feeling so worked up. He really enjoyed your blow job and that was all you needed to feel good about yourself and your ability.

Harry’s moan quieted into a simper as you continued dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock until he lulled his head forward and looked down at you, “S’good. Fuck that was good.” He prodded at you to bring your mouth off of him and you sat back with a proud smile.

He leaned forward to pull at the back of your neck and smash his lips against yours. You clung onto his shoulders as he positioned you next to him on the bed on your bottom and then he ran his hands down your sides and pulled at your sweater, “Can we get this off?”

You gripped the bottom hem of your hoodie as Harry sat back and peeled his sweater off over his head, making you pause so you could devour his chest and his arms, and his abs with your eyes. The tattoos that were scattered over his body and on his arms were no surprise. You’d heard through the grapevine about his tattoos once your roommate told you about him. And you heard he was fit. But this? He was the perfect amount of muscled and beefy. He was lean but he appeared well-fed. Broad shoulders, pecs you could bite into…

You gulped when you felt Harry’s big hands smoothing up and down your limbs as he absorbed the sight of you before you finally pulled your sweater off and then unhooked your bra, holding the cups up against your breasts for a moment to make sure he was still in it. Because maybe your body would be a complete turn off but his expressive face did all the talking and he moved his hands up your hips as his irises roamed over your skin.

“So pretty, Y/n,” he spoke like he knew you needed the reassurance. Which you did. So you slowly lowered your bra and pulled the straps from your arms and almost immediately Harry ducked down and kissed your right nipple while his hand palmed at your left tit. He moaned against your soft flesh and you felt cool air hit your skin in the path where his tongue laved against you.

A soft gasp fell from your lips when he wrapped his mouth over your nipple and looked up at you from his spot, pink lips suckling at your breast. It was almost as if he needed to make sure he was doing what you liked. As if the man wasn’t some kind of expert.

Harry’s bulky body moved over you and his hands brushed over the skin at your sides and down to your hips where your panties clung tight. You lifted your hips, ready for him to take care of you, ready to have him pull the last bit of fabric from your body and Harry grinned at you.

“I’m gonna pull these down, okay?”

Nodding you laughed in slight nervousness. You weren’t sure when you’d gotten so eager but giving Harry a blow job had made you a bit insatiable and all of the nice things he said about you, how good you were... Your insides were aching and you knew you were probably already wet, the crotch of your panties was warm against your skin.

And as he slowly dragged the material down your legs he kept looking up at you. A little bit of reassurance that he was only going to go as far as you wanted.

Paying close attention to his eyes you watched him drag his gaze over all your crevices and then up to your tits and then your eyes as he licked his lips. He wrapped a hand on the underside of your calf, lifting your leg the smallest bit as he tucked himself in closer, his shoulders pressing into your thighs.

The warm, soft kisses he dotted on your inner thigh as he looked up at you made you feel worshiped. Like he was savoring the moment and was going to take his time with you.

“Y/n, I just want to make you feel good. Tell me if you don’t like something or if you need something more okay? Because you did so good for me and I’m gonna be dreaming about those lips on me. Just want to make you feel as good as good as you made me feel.”

Harry could tell you liked a bit of praise. A compliment here and there was easy enough to throw in because it was all true. You were very good and you were so pretty and now he was going to return the favor as best he could.

When you felt his tongue swipe up through your crease you moaned faintly as you kept your eyes on him. And when he dug in more, attached his lips to your pussy, and began sucking at you the groan that fell from his chest rumbled through your core and you held on to the back of his head as you arched your back off of the pillow under yourself. His lips slicked up and down, tongue pressing at your clit and then he moved, bringing his arm in and you felt his fingers prodding at your entrance as he looked up at you, pulling his mouth away from your pussy, “Tastes so good, Y/n. Could bury my face here all day long. You mind if I finger you a little? Would that feel good?”

He ran his digits through your folds like he already knew your answer and you nodded quickly, “Yeah. Okay. If you want.”

He grinned before you felt him push his middle finger past your opening and then he watched the face you made as he curled his finger up in your magic little spot. The one only your rabbit vibrator seemed to be able to hit.

You gasped and with that, he brought his lips back over your clit and got to work. His dark curls were smooth and thick between your fingers and the way he kept pulling his gaze up to yours as he licked into you was naughty. The whole scene was something from a dream. There was something so soft about how he kept his eyes on you to check-in.

You’d had a couple of guys go down on you before but they had no idea what they were doing and you weren’t sure if it was just supposed to feel like slippery nothing gliding over your labia or not. But now, with Harry doing the work… well you realized what it was actually meant to feel like. And Harry was not giving you slippery nothing.

He seemed to enjoy it as well which made your heart lurch in your chest. Especially with how he was moaning into you like you tasted good. And he had told you as much, which… that had you on edge already.

When Harry slid in a second finger he opened his mouth wide and tongued up from where his fingers were pumping into you to your clit.

You couldn’t help the pathetic moans that were loudly bouncing off the walls of his studio, “Oh god, Harry…”

But the thing that was really seeping into your skin and your veins and making your heart pound was his eyes on yours. You couldn’t get over it. It was so intimate and sexy and the gushy noises coming from your slippery pussy were lewd and dirty. It was the perfect juxtaposition of just nasty enough but also sweet and soft that had you spiraling.

When they tell you that the biggest part of getting turned on is all in the mind, that’s absolutely true. Harry was a master at it. You weren’t sure you’d ever been so turned on with any man before. He really knew which buttons to push and all the right things to say.

“Fuck, that’s good… holy shit, Harry…”

He loved hearing you whine his name and the feel of your hips bucking upward in tiny bursts. You were one of those girls that was going to have an orgasm, he just knew it. The way you kept getting wetter every time you shot your eyes down to his was a big telltale sign. Some didn’t like the eye contact but he loved it and so did you, clearly.

He moaned into your pussy and swallowed you down as he worked his tongue in teasing circles around your clit before wrapping his lips around you again and smushing down over you with just the right amount of pressure.

The arm he had under your thigh he wrapped under your lower back, pulling you in closer if that was possible, as he continued fingering you with his other hand. The man was unquenchable. Like he needed to stuff his face in as close as humanly possible. Like he needed to suck you dry and make it so that you never forgot his name.

Your insides were melting for him. His fingers were magic inside of you and it had your brain all fuzzed out and blurry. But the way he rolled your clit under his tongue was divine, otherworldly… he knew what he was doing with that big mouth of his.

You gasped and looked back down at him again and his eyes were already pinned to yours.

“Oh… gonna co… oh fuck, gonna come…” you felt like you were being lifted into the air, levitating and vibrating off the bed and out of the atmosphere as he kept his fingers and his tongue steady. But when he moaned deeply into your cunt, that low resonate sensation traveling from your clit to your core and through your tummy made you lose control.

You didn’t realize you were yanking his hair as your legs quaked and your body liquified under him. But it didn’t deter him. He watched you unravel, tits bouncing and back arching as you orgasmed into his mouth and he curled his fingers up against your g-spot as you clamped over his digits.

If he didn’t have his mouth occupied he would have praised you more in that moment. Told you how pretty you were and how good you did for him. But he waited until you began to slowly come back to earth before whispering into your ear the sweet things he knew you’d like to hear.

He laid next to you and grasped your face, kissing your lips softly as you sighed, “So fucking good. What a pretty orgasm that was, Y/n…” He spoke between kisses.

“Did that all for me? Yeah?”

You couldn’t answer him. Not in that moment. You’d just melted and dissolved and had only begun to re-solidify and become a real human with lungs and limbs and skin and pores again.

“You are really fun to eat out, Y/n. Tasted so nice and you sound so sexy when you come. You can call me anytime you need a release okay?” He continued kissing your cheek and your lips as he spoke softly.

Harry didn’t rush you out like you thought he might. He rubbed over your tummy and kissed your breasts softly and ran his lips up the side of your neck as you slowly opened your eyes and sighed.

“Feel okay?”

You nodded and smiled, “Really good.”

“Stay as long as you want. Okay? No rush. We can even grab dinner together if you want or I can make you something.” Harry wasn’t sure why he asked you that. While he didn’t usually rush anyone out, he didn’t typically offer food or dinner either. There was just something about you that compelled him to ask. Perhaps he hoped you’d stick around a bit longer.

You sat up, “Oh. That’s really nice of you. But… maybe I should probably head back. Get some schoolwork done.”

You’d have loved to stay for dinner but you also didn’t want to get your feelings mixed up for a guy like Harry. Not that there was anything wrong with him, but you understood what this was. A one-time thing. Something fun where you got to learn a thing or two. If you stuck around too long you’d probably just want more. And that would only end in heartbreak for you. Because Harry was kind of the ideal guy in a lot of ways.

“Of course. Just thought I’d ask.”

There were no hard feelings for this kind of thing. Harry wasn’t offended that you didn’t want to stay. He’d had a good time with you and he was almost certain you had a good time as well. And that was just about all one could ask for.

Harry let you use his bathroom to clean up and get dressed. And as you did so you thought about how Gunther didn’t even offer you anything to eat or to stay after. In fact he didn’t even ask if you wanted to use his bathroom, when that would have been nice after giving him head. Because even though Gunther didn’t really touch you, you were still wet, and walking back to your dorm with wet panties was not a nice feeling. Especially when you didn’t even get anything out of it.

You’d be wary of Gunther. You’d give him another shot because you were a nice girl but you weren’t going to ignore the concerns Harry had. Perhaps Harry was right.

When you stepped out of the bathroom Harry handed you a glass of water, “Drink a little before you head out, and what dorm do you live in?” He looked down at his phone as he asked.

“Oh… uh the Millennium dorms near the arts building.”

He nodded as you took a gulp of the water and he showed you his phone, “Uber will be here for you in three minutes. I’ll walk you down, okay?”

“Wait. You didn’t have to do that! Um… I can walk or get an Uber myself it’s–“

He shook his head and grinned, “I know I didn’t have to but it’s getting late. Don’t want you walking twenty minutes by yourself. Who knows what could be lurking out there,” he laughed.

You pointed at him, “Fine. But I’m gonna pay you back. Next time I see you okay?”

“Not necessary. Now come on,” he playfully swatted at your bottom and directed you toward his door, “Let’s go downstairs and wait for…” he looked at his phone, “Rebecca in a white Trail Blazer.”

PART 2

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jinnie-ret · 1 year ago

Text

stray kids reaction to s/o who can't sleep in the same bed

genre: angst, fluff

content warnings: cheating, implied toxic relationships (not with skz)

request (from anon): I wanna request a skz reaction to their s/o who has trust issues and prefers to deal e things herself and also prefers to sleep alone in her room n stuff bc she trusts them but she needs to work her way up with being comfortable and ok to feel vulnerable enough to sleep w them n how they'd react to s/o taking months to a year for the to finally allow themselves to sleep next to them or even the same room as them?

SKZ REACTIONS MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Bang Chan

Your boyfriend Chan had texted you asking you to come over last minute, but of course, you weren't going to deny you or him from seeing each other. The issue was, plans being this last minute meant you hadn't had time to shave your legs. You didn't think Chan was the type of guy to judge you or anyone for having hairy legs, but it was more so your own qualms about things, and not feeling like you were deep enough into your relationship to trust that it wouldn't make him look at you in a different light.

Currently you were both heading into his bedroom, ready to cuddle and get some sleep - yes, you had managed to get your boyfriend to steer away from staying up all night.

You dove into the bed, Chan chuckling behind you as you shuffled under the blankets, wiggling like a worm.

"Babe, what are you doing?" Chan laughed at you as he stripped out of his t-shirt and joined you in bed.

"Going to sleep?" your voice was muffled by the pillows your face was pressed into.

"Oh right, in jeans, yeah?" Chan laid on his side, brushing your hair out of your face.

"Sometimes when I nap in them they turn into pantaloons and I've really been into ATEEZ and pirates lately," you rambled on. Yes there was some truth in that, but it wasn't the thing that needed revealing today.

"Babe what?" Chan blinked confusedly at your rambling, "why don't you get comfy?"

"Ummm... Actually I think the sofa is more comfy, I'll just sleep there," you scrambled out of the bed.

"What's wrong with the bed?" Chan grabbed your hand gently, pulling you back towards him with a slight frown as he sat up, "you've slept in it before."

"I ummm..." your voice wavered, looking at the floor and chewing the inside of your cheek feeling awkward.

"Babe, just tell me," he shuffled over to be sat directly next to you.

"I haven't shaved," you mumble incoherently.

"Huh? What was that baby?" Chan wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer.

"I didn't shave my legs... I'm embarrassed," you admit with big eyes, looking at Chan's expression and hoping not to see disgust.

"Is that all? Babe I don't care if your legs are hairy, I want to be with a woman, not a little girl, I don't care if your legs get hairy it's natural, yeah?" Chan preaches to you after a sigh of relief. He had his arm still around your shoulder, yet he was rocking you side to side.

"Hmmm..." you said in thought, trying to fight off a grin appearing on your face and instead look contemplative instead.

"What, was it something I said?" Chan rose an eyebrow.

"Yeah actually..." you fake sighed.

"Oh I'm sorry what was it that I said?" Chan intertwined your hands, speaking carefully and wanting you to feel comfortable enough about what was said wrong.

"You say you want to be with a woman not a little girl, so why do you insist that I call you Dadd-" you start laughing, just about managing to get your words out.

"Stoppp, stoppp, go, shoo, you, go put your pyjamas on funny girl," Chan sighed with a laugh, unable to hide it as he pushed you to stand.

"Ok Dadd-" you turned to tease him again, before he cut you off.

"Y/N!" he chased after you, tickling your sides as you squealed and laughed. You were glad that he didn't care about you having hairy legs. It was now reassuring in the future for any worries that you had, that he'd understand.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Minho

"I swear you hug the cats more than me," he smirked, simply teasing you from where he was sat at the other end of the sofa with Dori in his lap. You had the ginger babies Soonie and Doongie in yours. You were glad though because it brought you great comfort with the paranoia you had been feeling more and more recently.

He was your boyfriend, and you loved him, but you worried his teasing comments were actually subtle digs. You were still shy about being physically affectionate with him, particularly with sharing a bed with him.

"I-i'm sorry Min, I'm trying," your voice wobbles.

"Darling, I'm joking, don't worry," Minho lifted Dori off of his lap, standing up and stretching and not seeing the distress that still remained on your face. "Right, I'm going to get some sleep, you want to join?"

"I-i'm not ready yet, sorry Min."

"It's ok, darling." He always announced when he was going to bed, always leaving the question in the air so you could say yes if you felt ready. But that still wasn't the case this time, and as he turned to get a glass of water from the kitchen, he was stopped in his tracks by your cries.

"I-it's not because I don't love you, because I do!! I really do!! I just want to work myself up for it you know? I don't wanna be awkward and stuff but-" you had lifted the cafs off of your lap, feeling guilty and in that moment seeing him turn away from you felt like he was annoyed.

"Hey, hey, darling, where's all these tears coming from, hmm?" Minho soothed you, his voice slightly higher pitched when he was being gentle with you. "I told you, it's ok, really," he wiped your tears off of your cheeks.

"I feel like I'm being annoying," you sniffled, looking down only for him to tilt your chin upwards.

"I'd rather you be comfortable, ok?" Minho was always patient with you, "don't let it stress you out ok?"

"O-ok," you took in a deep breath, calming yourself down.

"I love you, get some rest, ok darling?"

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Changbin

Your boyfriend was peacefully sleeping in bed, small snores escaping his lips as his face was squished against one of his thick arms. And he was a light sleeper, probably from previously living in a dorm full of boys before that were chaotic to say the least, and that was from what you saw meeting them outside of their home space.

You tiptoed into the bedroom, taking a deep breath. Never sleeping in the same bed as him was something you knew didn't deter him but you could see it when he'd miss you goodnight that he wished that you would sleep with him. That boy wanted nothing more than to hold you all night in his arms, but he respected your decision still. Tonight, things were different.

Slowly crawling into bed next to him, you lifted up the duvet and laid down beside him, slowly resting your head against the top of his back and an arm across his waist. You were nervous, yes, but you had missed his comfort after wishing each other good night, even though it had only been half an hour.

The beast had awoken, quite dramatically you must admit. But it was fair, considering you wouldn't normally sleep next to him he wouldn't be expecting anyone in bed next to him.

"Huh...? Woah! What?! Honey?" Changbin's initial murmurs had turned to surprised joyful shouts as he flew out of bed to make sure this was all real. You just sat there stunned with your hands covering your ears.

Your boyfriend did a happy dance, jumping into bed next to you as he wiggled against you, and instead he was the big spoon this time round. His heartbeat was racing and so was yours.

"Surprise?" you giggled, making him coo and squish your cheeks.

"My honey," Changbin kissed your cheek before cuddling up to you even tighter, "good night."

Now that, was in a much deeper voice in comparison to his excited shouts. The duality of this man, and he was all yours.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Hyunjin

"Baby! I haven't seen you in ages!" Hyunjin quickly got up from his seat, bringing you into a hug. With your usual solace in his presence you sink into his embrace.

"Hey Jinnie," you then sat down across from him in the cafe.

"I'm so glad you saw me today, I was worried about you," Hyunjin grabbed your hands, holding them in his.

"Worried? You don't have to worry about me," you offered an awkward smile, knowing fully well why he felt this way. He had asked you on multiple dates just to see you when he was miraculously free from his busy schedule. But each time you cancelled, getting worried you were falling too deeply only for it to be thrown away. You were scared to get close in case you got hurt, so you flaked out from each time he wanted to see you. It wasn't until your friends prompted you to see him that you thought maybe you should this time.

"You haven't been wanting to see me... I haven't done something wrong have I, baby?" Hyunjin worried, one of his hands releasing one of yours in turn to sip from his iced americano.

"It's not you Jinnie, I'm just... scared," you answered honestly, for the sake of reassuring him. It didn't feel fair for him to worry without knowing why you were really avoiding him.

"Scared? Of what?" Hyunjin leant forwards, elbows not resting on the table between you both.

"I-i don't want to ruin things between us because once we get closer we'll be going round each other's apartments and then it's sharing a bed together and I'm just not ready for that yet," you explained, words tumbling past your lips as you felt flustered.

"Oh baby, we never have to force anything, I'd never rush you if you're not ready. If your pace is slower than mine, so be it. I will not make you catch up with me, I'll be right next to you instead," Hyunjin promised you, looking deeply into your eyes so you knew it. "I wish you told me sooner, I've missed you so much."

"I missed you too Jinnie."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Han

"Please don't feel bad my baby, I really don't mind," Han pleaded, not wanting you to feel guilty. You both held hands as you were sat on the sofa watching a film, specifically, Spirited Away.

"You don't find it weird?" you weakly ask, eyes not leaving the TV screen.

"I've never been with anyone before that's felt the same way, but I love you, so I'm not about to throw that away because you're not ready to sleep in the same bed as me," Han spoke calmly, like it was something he had gone over in his head plenty of times.

"I want to, I really want to, Ji, I'm sorry babe," your voice wobbled, thick with emotion, Han kissing your hand as he tentatively brought your it to his plush lips, always careful with you. He was always understanding that you needed more time with things due to previous relationships.

"Hey, hey, it's ok, I have an idea," Han grinned, leaving the sofa without any explanation and getting busy with moving things around in the bedroom.

~~~

"Come on, it's like a sleepover every night, I don't know why I didn't think of it in the first place..." Han felt proud of himself gazing across at you from the bed. You see, Han had taken it into his own hands to make you feel more comfortable around him to sleep near him, not quite next to him yet. Fortunately, his apartment came with a spare bed frame, bedding, the works, so he had set up a bed for you across from his own. It was perfect, right? You didn't have to sleep next to him in bed yet, but at least you could stay over this time, and one day cuddle in bed til you fall asleep.

That was what Han hoped. You on the other hand, were too busy in your own world, thinking about the worst things that could happen to mentally prepare yourself, your hand twisting the blanket in its grip.

"Baby, is it too much? I can drive you home now if you want?" Han stretched his leg out, nudging your foot with his own to shake you out of your thoughts.

"N-no I'm just gonna umm... Let you fall asleep first... Makes me feel safer so I know that you won't do anything you know," you rambled with your jaw clenched. That all too familiar lump in your throat was making its presence known and you didn't know if you were going to yawn or cry.

"Hey?" Han softly said.

"Y-yeah?" you nervously look up at him, only to see pure adoration and warmth oozing from those boba eyes of his.

"It's ok, yeah, I wouldn't do that to you, I care about you far too much," Han slowly walked over to you to allow you to process his movement happening in front of you, and brushed some hair back from your eyes.

"You're the best," you murmured, leaning your face further into his hand making him grin.

"I know, baby."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Felix

There it was again, that funny feeling. You hadn't gotten so lucky before being cheated on in your previous relationship, so when you smelt the different perfume on the pillows in your bedroom, you were heartbroken. You didn't have it in you to be angry at Felix, not him. Maybe just at yourself for not noticing it sooner. But maybe a part of you wanted the pain, to know for sure it was true, because you didn't leave straight away, no, you just waited for him to notice something was up.

"Hi love, you going to sleep?" Felix grinned as he came up to you, stroking your hair out of your face. And you let him.

"Yeah... I was going to borrow one of your pillows but I couldn't help but notice it smelt differently," you brushed his hands off of your hair.

"Oh, did you like the smell?" Felix beamed at you, ever so sunny when all you felt was blue.

"Are you kidding me? Did I like it?" your voice cracked. "Lixie, is this some sick joke?"

"Love..." he reached out to hold your shoulders but you backed further away.

"Don't. Please don't. I gave you a chance just then to admit what you had done. Is it because of me? Because I'm not ready to sleep in bed next to you, you have to get another woman? And don't try to tell me I borrowed that pillow last night because my perfume does not smell like that!" you cried, wiping your nose as you did and pointing at the bed in disgust.

"It could though, let me explain, love," Felix held your hands and even though he was the source of your upset, or at least the version of him that your brain created was, you sat with him on the sofa.

"It's a new perfume, not from another woman, but for you if you like it. I-i just didn't want to give you one and you didn't like the scent so I got the tester to try out and if you liked it then I was going to buy the bottle for you," Felix brought you into his arms whilst he explained, and you felt like a bitch.

"I'm such a bitch."

"No, no, don't be silly love, I didn't realise that it could have been triggering for you, ok, so don't call yourself that," Felix mumbled in his deep voice soothingly, kissing you on the head.

"I did like the perfume scent by the way," you whispered. That's what would have been more annoying - that the imaginary woman had a good taste in scents.

"I'm glad you do, love."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Seungmin

You had been judged many a time by your last boyfriend for your sleeping habits, whether it was for your not so soft snores or when sometimes you'd accidentally drool because of having your cheek pressed against your hand all night. So when you got with Seungmin, you were hesitant in sharing a bed with him, let alone falling asleep next to him. Sometimes you just couldn't help it.

The two of you had been watching a movie and foolishly you let yourself fall asleep, only to be awoken by Seungmin's giggles.

"I never knew you were a snorer, honey," Seungmin laughed to himself, but you were awoke in an instant, the sounds of your peaceful sleep cut off as you looked at him in alert.

"Oh sorry, I know I'm loud, I, umm..." you rambled awkwardly, cheeks inflamed in a rosy red tint, bringing the blanket more around your body in attempt to comfort yourself.

"Like a drone or something," your boyfriend giggled once more, but his smile faded at seeing you frown. "Hey I'm just joking..."

"No you're not," you mumble grumpily. It had to come back to this. Always. You couldn't help it. It was a habit for a reason.

"I am, I am, don't hide from me," Seungmin insisted, tugging the blanket away from you face, bopping the pout your lips wore.

"Stoppp, I'm embarrassed, Minnie," you pushed his hands away, well tried to.

"Don't be, I don't care, honestly, I sleep easily and plus you're not the only one who snores," Seungmin pulled you into his arms.

"You snore too?" you rose an eyebrow, you had never heard him do so before.

"No but Channie does. He's like a foghorn. So don't worry, yours is far better," Seungmin chuckled, teasing his leader when he wasn't even there.

"You sure? I never wanted to disturb you, is all," you look up at him as he leans down slightly to kiss you on the head with a sweet smile.

"Very, now please sleep in my arms, you can relax, honey," Seungmin gently rubbed your back as you turned to face him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Jeongin

Worst. Day. Ever.

Was it normal for a part time job at a cafe to be chaotic? No, not the one you worked at anyways. This was why it was such a surprise for you to deal with a rowdy customer that decided that he didn't like his coffee because it was 'too hot' and wanted a refund, all whilst you had the busiest shift of your life. Well, he certainly didn't get one after chucking the freshly brewed beverage all over you.

You were dismissed earlier by your manager, who could see how anxious you were feeling, and after you were checked over you returned to yours and Jeongin's apartment, being the first home for once. And you couldn't resist the comfort of his soft, plush bed as your spot to let yourself cry, despite the fact you've never slept next to him before. In fact, your unfamiliarity of being in the room distracted you from the fact the front door unlocked and that there were foosteps heading straight towsrds you.

"Jagi?" Jeongin asked confusedly seeing you curled up in his bed. It wasn't a sight he expected to see. He understood you had boundaries and didn't feel ready sharing a bed yet. The more concerning thing was the sobs wracking through your body.

"Oh?" you jumped, turning to see your boyfriend with care and sadness shining in his eyes at the sight of your tears.

"What's the matter, hmm?" Jeongin slowly sat down next to you, resting a hand gently on your knee. That was when you dissolved into tears once more. "Oh, jagi," he instinctively pulled you in for a cuddle, before you shuffled out of his arms.

"I'm sorry, I've just had such a bad day and your bed looked so comfy and-"

"Why's your neck all red?" Jeongin frowned.

"Angry customer, threw his drink at me, and it hurt, and then my manager sent me home and-"

"Come here," Jeongin quietened you, opening his arms once more which you accepted this time.

"I'm sorry," you cried into his chest.

"Don't be sorry. I don't care that you laid down in the bed. I'm more worried about you, Jagi, ok?" Jeongin's embrace became tighter when he heard your small whimpers, a clear sign that you were trying to stop yourself from crying.

"Just wanna forget about today," you mumbled sadly.

"I know, I know, let's ummm... Ok maybe not a hot bath... let me get some cream for you, treat those burns," Jeongin pecked you on the cheek, deciding against your skin enduring more pain from hot water, and quickly got up, soon returning with some ointment for you. He made the decision to gently rub it into your neck, having a better pair of eyes than you did. One, because you couldn't see it fully, two, because your eyes were still slightly blurred from tears.

"T-thank you, Innie," you kissed his hand before it fully pulled away from your neck, making a weird face as the cream went onto your lips, the taste of it not so pleasant.

"Silly girl, here," he wiped the cream off your lips with his thumb, kissing you just to make sure the taste still wasn't there, and then you were both satisfied.

"Love you, Innie."

"Love you too, Jagi, even with panda eyes."

"Shit, I forgot I wore mascara today."

"I know, Jagi, I know."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @kai-lee08 @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @turtledove824 @2minstan @royal-shinigami @yangbbokari @skzoologist

#skz reactions #stray kids reaction #stray kids reactions #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz angst #stray kids angst #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader

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dollfacefantasy · 7 months ago

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greedy ♡

satoru gojo x fem!reader x suguru geto

you and satoru get greedy and break the rules. but suguru's there to teach the both of you that there are limits for a reason.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, overstimulation, daddy kink/ddlg, dacryphilia

a/n: part 1 <3

Quiet. When Suguru hung up the phone, that was all he heard.

The house had been so quiet lately, but to be clear, he was not complaining. After the little lesson he taught you and Satoru a few weeks ago, the two of you had been getting along much better. There was bickering here and there, but he was much more gentle with you and you were less likely to get upset from his teasing. He could actually leave the two of you alone now without the worry of your whines ringing through the house or Satoru's cocky laughter permeating the thin walls.

The two of you were alone right now. He'd gotten a work phone call that unfortunately couldn't wait. It was supposed to take fifteen minutes, but the other party's incessant rambling dragged it out to over an hour. He was done now though, and as soon as he clicked that little red button, he felt relief flow through him. He could return to his two favorite people now.

He's quick to return to the bedroom. On the way there though, he hears some whining. Not the kind that had been filling up the house when you and Satoru were at each other's throats. This was needy and breathless.

Pushing open the double doors, his eyes immediately lock on the two of you. You were on your back, Satoru on top of you and between your legs. His pale body was on full display from behind. His muscles rippled as he thrust into you, soft enough to not make the bed creak. He had your legs pinned up by your sides and his face in the crook of your neck.

Suguru clears his throat. He sees your eyes snap open to meet his. The look on your face told him that you knew you'd been caught red-handed. Satoru doesn't even raise his head to look at the other man. His guilt shuts him up and traps him in a rare moment of silence. His hips reluctantly come to a stop, but they tremble with the need to keep driving into you.

"I can't leave the two of you alone for one hour without you breaking the rules? I expect better," Suguru says, breaking the silence, "I'm happy you're getting along, but that's no excuse to start fucking like little rabbits the second I leave."

That wasn't a lie. Suguru was pleased with the progress between you two. This wasn't about jealousy or some other petty qualm. Had he come back to Satoru eating your pussy or humping your leg, this wouldn't have been an issue. But you both knew the rule. The rule was that Satoru was not allowed to truly fuck you without Suguru being present.

Rules were essential to this dynamic. You and Satoru needed them. Each of you craved them, yearned for Suguru to enforce them on you and keep you in your place. So that was what he was going to do.

"Daddy we didn't mean-" you start timidly, but Suguru cuts you off.

"You didn't mean to? You didn't mean to let Satoru shove his cock inside you? You didn't mean to whine for more?" he taunts, "What about you Satoru? Look at me when I'm talking to you."

You feel the warmth of Satoru's breath leave your neck as he pulls his head up. He drops your legs and rises to his knees so that he can turn his head to face your shared lover.

"We're sorry," he says, sounding more sheepish than you, "I'm sorry. It was my idea. She's just so... she's so soft... and warm... and I'm sorry."

"Oh I'm sure you are," Suguru chuckles as he walks further into the room. He stands at the end of the bed. The tense air in the room makes it seem as though he looms over the two of you. "You're so sorry you didn't even pull out."

Neither of you had a response for that one. Satoru was in fact still buried balls deep in you right now. He couldn't pull out when your velvety walls were still fluttering around him, providing him the most muted form of pleasure.

Suguru knows his words have rendered the both of you temporarily speechless. He shakes his head with a mocking smile on his face before walking a few more paces to the recliner in the corner of the room.

"Well don't let me stop the two of you. I wouldn't want to intrude," he says.

But it's a leading tone. You know it's a trap. It's some crazy reverse psychology shit that you can't figure out fully while full of Satoru's dick.

"Daddy..." you whimper while peering at him around the white-haired man's torso.

"What?" he asks you, "I'm giving both of you want. Go ahead. Enjoy yourselves."

You want to protest more. As good as it felt physically, something wasn't right about this. Satoru doesn't seem to hold the same suspicions as you though because his hips resume the pace they had before Suguru walked in.

He drops back on top of you, his chest flush against yours, smooshing your breasts against his sweaty skin. His head falls back into the space where your neck connects to your shoulder. Your worries are quick to scamper away from your mind to make room for the pure bliss brought on by his thrusts.

Each stroke into your slick embrace brings a grunt out of him and a mewl out of you. Your arms lazily drape around his neck as he rocks you into the mattress.

"So fucking good, baby," he mumbles against your flesh. You can tell he's trying to be quiet, to keep the praise from Suguru's nearby ears.

He continues pumping in and out, back and forth in a rhythm fit to hypnotize you. His pelvis connects with your ass too many times for you to keep track of. All you know is that you never want it to stop.

After a little while, you're getting close. You hadn't been too far away before Suguru walked in. Satoru can feel you tightening up around him, and he's not faring much better. He has his plush, pink lip between his teeth. His pretty blue eyes look up at the ceiling as if thanking whatever higher power there was for bestowing him with you.

His fingers dig into the warm dough of your thighs. You're reaching that peak, but you can feel Suguru's eyes on you. You can feel his dark gaze baring into you and the man on top of you. Whatever his plan was still lingered, like a panther in tall grass waiting to strike.

"Daddy... can I cum?" you whimper and catch his eyes over Satoru's shoulder. You had to prove you were still a good girl. Nothing was right in the world if Suguru was mad at you.

"Do you even need to ask me? You didn't feel the need to ask before you let Satoru spread your legs," he responds. It's short and simple. Cut and dry. You feel the urge to squirm out from under your one boyfriend to rush and plead for forgiveness at the feet of the other.

But you don't because Satoru starts hammering into you harder, chasing the high for both of you.

"Toru," you whimper and cling to him tighter.

"I know, princess. Me too," he mutters.

Only moments later, the both of you are twitching messes of moans and whines. Satoru fucks his cum deep inside of you, and your pussy milks every last drop out him. He doesn't stop moving until he feels he has none left to give.

When he is done, he collapses on top of you. He feels like some kind of weighted blanket, keeping you secure against the smooth sheets and soft pillows. You nuzzle him lazily while he pants in your ear. The situation is so comfortable, it lulls you into a sense of security. You almost forget the fact that you're being closely observed. That is until the one observing you pierces the silence.

"Pull out of her, Satoru," he states simply.

Without a word of protest, he obeys, leaving you empty as he unsheaths himself from your dripping cunt.

"Now, baby girl, I want you to lay on your tummy with your head at the end of the bed," he directs.

You also follow the orders with no resistance. You snake around your lover's lanky limbs and get in the position he wanted. You're facing him now. There's no escape from his watchful eyes.

"Good girl," he says. It's simple though. Not affectionate enough to make your chest swell with the feeling that you did something right. "Satoru. Stick it in her again."

Satoru had already been a bit flushed, but his cheeks tinge an even deeper shade of pink now. "What?" he asks.

"You heard me, baby boy. I want you to slide your cock into her again," he repeats.

Satoru's brilliant eyes blink with confusion. He strokes his cock, still glistening with the remnants of your release, to try and get it half hard. He had good stamina, so it wasn't a huge issue.

"My babies acted out for a reason, right? Not just because you're needy brats I’m sure," he mocks, "I need to make sure the two of you get your fill. We don't want this happening again, do we?"

The both of you shake your heads. Suguru chuckles at the seemingly synchronized motion.

Satoru climbs back on you and mounts you again. You whine as his lengthy shaft fills you up for the second time. He slides it all the way to the hilt with ease. You were still nice and ready from your last round.

He doesn't wait to start thrusting. The tight fit of your cunt around him gets him to full mast in no time. He falls into a similar rhythm as before, his hips bouncing off your backside with timed precision.

You tug his forearms closer so that he's boxing you in. He nuzzles his face into your neck again and keeps in there to muffle some of his whimpering.

Glancing upwards, your gaze meets Suguru's. It's unwavering. He doesn't smile, doesn't coo at you or encourage you. He watches. He waits for you and Satoru to start hitting that peak again.

It's not too long before he gets what he's waiting for. The both of you were still sensitive from the last time you came. Only a handful more strokes and Satoru is draining himself again, filling you up for the second time.

Like last time, you're both breathless and limp, melting into one another. Your skin is sticky with sweat, both his and yours. You squirm a little to signal for him to get off, and he's about to. But then Suguru speaks again.

"Don't even think about pulling out," he says.

You both look at him. It's starting to become clear what he had in mind.

"You don't pull out until I say, and now is not that time. You're gonna wait until you're hard again, and then you're gonna fuck her again."

"But daddy-" you start to whine.

"None of that," he says, his tone sharp as a blade.

It shuts you up in an instant. Even the normally chatty Satoru has nothing to say.

There's a brief pause between everyone for the moment, but then you feel it. You feel the push and pull of Satoru's body starting up again. You whimper and drop your face into the blankets.

He starts slow this time, but Satoru's needy by nature. He can't keep himself from pistoning into you at a certain point. His lower half ricochets off yours while he keeps a bruising grip on your hips. Strangled whines burst from you with each pump while his noises flow in a constant stream.

He ruts into you on the bed until he's cumming again, but Suguru doesn't give him the ok to pull out. He simply signals to go again. And Satoru does. He fucks you again. And again. And again. Until the both of you are absolutely cum drunk.

You'd stopped counting how many times he'd brought you to the height of pleasure. Your pussy was aching now, throbbing with the desire for peace rather than the need for release. You aren't too sure how Satoru's doing considering he's melted down into a whiny mess behind you. He doesn't even need Suguru's direction anymore. He can't stop fucking himself into your cunt.

Tears roll down his glowing cheeks and quiet sobs leak from his lips.

"So good, baby. So so fucking good," he whimpers, "This pussy's all I need."

You whine in response and claw at the blankets beneath you. Tears are building on your own lash line from the white hot overstimulation of your insides. You sniffle. You had the safeword, but you couldn't bring yourself to use it. This was the most pleasurable pain on earth. The sweetest spot between heaven and hell right in your bedroom.

"This is what you get for being greedy babies," Suguru chides. He palms himself while still sitting in the recliner. A bulge had long-since formed in his pants from watching the two of you go at it. But as he made you two give in over and over, he held back.

"We're sorry, daddy," you cry, tears finally spilling on your face, "Shoulda listened to you."

"You're right. You should've," he smirks.

Satoru huffs in your ear, a sign that he was going to cum again soon.

"Too full," you whine and writhe under him, "Can't take anymore, Toru."

He simply whines against you and tightens his grip on you.

"S-sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, fuck baby," he whimpers, "You're a good girl. Such a good girl. Taking my cum. Gonna make it up to you."

He sobs as he shoots inside you again. You don't know how he's not firing blanks at this point. His body shakes with the torturous euphoria in the pit of his belly. It makes him pause and just lay on top of you as he rides it out.

You think this might be it. This has to be the last one. But Suguru still doesn't say anything. You cry into the blankets as Satoru begins to roll his hips on yours again. It's slow and reluctant at first, but soon enough, that needy rutting is back.

"Harder, Satoru," Suguru grunts from the corner.

Satoru's head bobs up and down in a sorry excuse for a nod. Running on fumes, he thrusts into you harder. His tip batters into your abused sweet spots, his balls slapping against your puffy clit.

More sobs and tears pour from you. "Daddy, please," you cry and look up at Suguru with bleary eyes, "I'm sorry. Please daddy. I'm a good girl. I'm sorry."

Suguru's eyes flutter, and he has to tilt his head back to regain his composure and stop himself from cumming in his pants on the spot. Once he's got it under control, his eyes return to you.

"You can be a good girl, babydoll. Keep taking Toru's cock. You're almost done. I promise," he says.

"Noooo," you sob and your face falls again. You reach out as if Suguru could save you, as if he wasn't the driving force behind Satoru, "Daddy, please!"

You continue wailing into the blankets, and Satoru's eyes roll back. He's panting like a dog, tongue hanging out of his mouth and all. Whines echo from him as if on a loop. His eyes screw shut, and he slams into you particularly hard before he loses some consistency and grows more erratic.

"Sugu- fuck- Daddy," he corrects himself, "C-can't go anymore. Hurts."

"It does hurt when you don't listen to daddy," Suguru agrees, "Keep going."

He whines and drops back down on you. He shoves his face against your skin and takes a deep breath. His long arms snake around you and hold you to him like a toy. His hips jackhammer into you with the hope that this was the last time.

You're pretty sure you black out with your next orgasm. You feel the spark of ecstasy between your legs, and then you see stars. Literally. Your vision goes white and then your eyelids shut to a dizzying burst of colors.

You can vaguely hear Satoru losing it in your ear. You sort of feel him drooling on your shoulder. You don't remember feeling if he cums or not. You feel him limp on top of you and then hear Suguru speaking distantly.

The next thing you know, a hand is sweeping over your forehead.

"You with me, sweet girl? Are you ok?" Suguru's voice coos in your ear.

Your eyelids are heavy, but you manage to crack them open. The first thing you see is Satoru passed out next to you. Above him is Suguru. The only response you can make for him is a whiny babble. You extend your arms for him, and he indulges you this time. He scoops you up and brings you to rest at the top of the bed. He gives Satoru the same treatment next.

Finally, he climbs into bed, letting the both of you curl up to his sides. Satoru's cheek is squished on his pectoral muscle while you rest on Suguru’s bicep. His eyes look just as fucked out as you imagine yours to be.

"There's my babies. All tuckered out like they should be," he coos and rubs the both of your backs.

"Daddy..." you mumble.

"That's right. Daddy's got you. Daddy's got the both of you," he murmurs.

A kiss lands on the top of your head and then Satoru's.

"Both of you babies are gonna take a nap and then we'll get you cleaned up, ok?" he says, "I think the both of you learned your lesson."

You can almost hear the smirk in his tone, but it’s of no matter to you as you’re already slipping into the comforting thralls of sleep.

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo imagine #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo smut #gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x y/n #suguru geto smut #suguru geto x you #geto suguru smut #geto x reader #geto smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk imagines #ch: satoru gojo 💌#ch: suguru geto 💌

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mauvecherie-writes · 23 days ago

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be mine this christmas: l.hamilton.

pairing: lewis hamilton x back oc!xenia richards

trope: grumpy billionaire x personal assistant au

ru’s 💌 : Please keep in mind that the Lewis in this story is not the IRL Lewis or the Lewis I typically write about. He’s a bit more of an asshole, he’s a bit more controlling. You’ll love him the same. This story is fast paced because it takes place in just about one night.

chapter: ONE

chapter warning: n/a

chapter w.c: 3.44K

𝐎𝐍𝐄:𝐗𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐀

Lewis Hamilton was an arsehole.

No, arsehole was not strong enough of a word to describe the depths of her hatred. She utterly loathed the man and there were not enough words in the a thesaurus that could describe the thoughts that plagued her mind. The thought of him on fire and she still wouldn’t throw water on him to save him. In fact, Xenia would throw the continuous stack of files that sat on her desk into the fire to stock the flames.

There was so much more that she could say but there was not enough space within her mind to keep thinking about that man.

Ugh, that man.

Xenia rolled her eyes at the phrase. Lewis Hamilton was the definition of being ‘the man’. To the modern man, he was the quintessential ‘alpha’ as they called them these days. A term that equally irked her.

An egotistical twat is what she felt was better suited for the type of man that Lewis Hamilton actually was. The type of man that made an obscene amount of money just by breathing and made it known that he had no qualms flaunting it. ’Who the fuck has a designer customised pen?!’

He was the type of man who walked with his head held high, shoulders square - demanding the attention through the sea of desks to the elevator that was constructed for his private use. The peasants were to use the smaller elevator further down the corridor.

Lewis Hamilton was considered a god to the board as his legacy in motorsport alone brought the investors, begging to give the company their money. Every man wanted to be him, willing to accept being his doormat if he allowed it. Every woman wanted to be in his bed if he spared them a glance. Equally pathetic.

Xenia wanted him to disappear. Then she would know peace.

She never understood how people could see the sun that seemed to be shining out of his arsehole. He had no redeeming qualities that she could think of and she’d been his personal assistant for three years.

He was a dominating whirlwind of force that blew everything that stood in his way and he would never look back to witness the havoc that he wreaked.

Xenia was not blind - she knew that he was an attractive man. It was in her face every day, confronted by it and that drove her hatred even deeper. He had her occupying the building that held her captive for sixty hours a week.

Yes, SIXTY!

In heels on top of it! Something about looking professional at all times that was written within the office’s code of conduct. Why she could not answer the emails at home (she was already doing that anyway) as she ran around the city of London doing errands off the clock was beyond her.

There were a lot of things that Hamilton did that would qualify enough as a form of harassment for a lawsuit.

But she was still here. Why?

Well, for one, her salary was amazing and helped her afford her obsession with fashion. It also helped that the VP of Sales, Rebecca Bailey was a sweetheart who loved asking her fashion tips. Xenia had cultivated a special relationship over the years with the older woman. They got along so well most likely due to the fact that she was one of the very few women in the building who did not want to cut off Xenia’s head because of her proximity to the boss.

Another reason why Xenia loved Rebecca was because of her encouragement for her to delve deeper into her fashion interest. Which was something Xenia was craving to do. She had gone so far as to create a website that she had intended to be her homage to fashion. Granted the only thing on the homepage was a white screen with the words ‘under construction’ flashing on the page. But it was a starting point.

“What are you so focused on?” The resident gossip, Lola Braun, stood at the edge of Xenia’s desk as she eyed the article that she had been working on. Xenia quickly shut her laptop screen down before Lola could read any further. She scrunched up her recently sculpted nose up when Xenia quietly pulled her screen close.

“It’s none of your business what I’m focused on actually.” Xenia replied . If she had to be honest with herself, she was not the biggest fan of Lola, matter of fact, she hated Lola at about the same level that she hated Lewis. Lola was the personal assistant of Rebecca which angered her even more due to how close they were forced to work with each other.

Lola loved herself in a way that was deplorable. Her high arched and pulled back eyebrows , hazel green eyes and a body every model aspired to have. With hair and flawless toffee-toned skin, magazines would say that you can get from rosemary water and witch hazel. However, because of this perceived perfection, Lola had made it her mission to force everyone around her to be miserable. She despised any food that contained more than 300 calories around her. God forbid, Xenia ate a lemon and poppyseed muffin with her caramel latte.

Everyone (mostly the women) wanted to look like Lola and they all seemed to hate the way Xenia looked. She was 5’9”, body full of curves, kinky coils that defied gravity with skin tone deep and rich as the juices of blackberries. Xenia loved the way that she looked. Lola could shove a chocolate chip cookie down her throat if she didn’t.

Xenia also hated the fact that she was a blubber mouth. You only ever told her anything when you wanted the entire office building to know. Xenia learned that little tidbit the hard way when she confided in her that she thought that the boss was a dick during her first month of employment. It was a very awkward staff general meeting when Lewis reprimanded ‘staff’ for inappropriate comments about higher administration.

Yes, Xenia hated Lola a great deal.

Lola cleared her throat, as if to remind her of her presence. Like Xenia could forget that she was standing there, not when her pungent fragrance was itching her nose.

“What do you want, Lola?”Xenia asked. She then dropped a stack of files onto her desk.

“Well, from the looks of it, it seems that you don’t have much work to do so here are the sales quarter files that Mr Hamilton asked for. Should keep you occupied until late. I can bet that you don’t even have an outfit for the Christmas party tonight.”

Xenia finally glared up at her. Meeting the woman’s snarky expression through her lashes.

“You’re right.” Xenia offered her a fake smile. “How about I start on these whilst you go and get those nails filled in. They look overdue.” Lola gasped as she pulled her emerald green manicured nails towards her chest before she moved to inspect them. Before Xenia could bask in the afterglow of Lola's stunned silence, a large and tasted hand dropped a note onto the stack of files in front of Xenia.

“Okay, this sparring round is over ladies.” Her eyes rolled before they landed on Miles. Miles Chamley-Watson was the Chief Marketing Officer of Hamilton Enterprises and also Lewis’s best friend. Only four years younger than the boss, Miles still knew him the longest and was there at the inception of the company - playing a massive role in its growth with his sharp eye on marketing the brand to a more generation.

Miles was also someone Xenia considered a friend and an ally. Their first meeting happened when he had walked in as she was getting a verbal lashing from the boss man. All she had done was pour oat milk into his coffee instead of almond. As the tears brimmed in her eyes, Miles was able to de-escalate the situation and since then, he had been a shoulder to lean on when the brunt force that was Lewis Hamilton was too much for her to bear.

“I just wanted to make sure that she got the files that were being asked for, Mr Chamley. We all know she seems to let her little fashion hobby get in the way of her actual job here.” Lola smirked as she tucked her bleached strands behind her ear with a smirk.

Xenia chewed the inside of her cheek to simmer the twitch of her palm to reach over and slap her. There were a lot of things to be said about Xenia and the disdain of her current job occupation but to try and imply that she was any less but good at her job was deeply insulting. Lola, pruny and loudly made it known that it should have been her in the position that Xenia was in. And if she could switch their places, she would. But Mr Hamilton had made it clear that he only wanted Xenia, even though they seemed to have each other.

Miles sighed as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. “I’m sure that Miss Richards is more than capable of her job and has everything under control. Thank you, Lola.”

Lola huffed as she brushed her bleached strands from her shoulder and scattered away from Xenia’s desk. A sigh of relief left her lungs.

“Thank you, Miles.”

“Don’t thank me yet. What was that I heard about you not having a dress for tonight?”

A noise that sounded like a disgruntled groan left her mouth. She knew what he was going to say as she conjured up her excuse.

“I’m not going.”

“Come on Nia! You always say that!” Miles exclaimed with a hint of annoyance. His animated expression almost caused a smile to break out on her face.

”Listen. I’m always here as it is and I don’t want to stay here any longer than I need to. The party is in this building where I already feel suffocated and I won’t even be comfortable enough to drink. My enemies are everywhere and a drunken Xenia would be like food for fodder to the people.” Her last statement caused Miles to chuckle.

“I would much rather spend my night at home, take a nice and long bath then watch both versions of Black Christmas.” Her preferred plans sounded boring but they were honest. Xenia would rather enjoy her solitude than be surrounded by people who did not like her.

The annual Christmas party was the one thing that Xenia never had to set up; however, it was still her who ordered the decorations, figured out the catering and then the entertainment. Xenia was the unofficial party planner - another title under her hat that she was not getting paid for.

She was exhausted beyond belief.

Besides, she had too much to figure out before they broke for Christmas - Xenia wouldn’t be missed at the party.

“You can’t not go Nia.”

“Miles -.”

“Of course, she’s going. Why wouldn’t my assistant and the planner of the party be there?”

The deep voice of Satan bellowed through the air and almost forced Xenia to flee for her life. She had not seen him all day and now as she turned in her chair, she came face to face with her boss.

Lewis Hamilton. A brooding, muscled machine covered in a tailored suit and a million dollar Richard Mille watch on his wrist. Her eyes trailed down the thickness of his tattooed neck, broad shoulders and back up to his sharp jawline covered by his beard. Then her eyes settled on his soft and full lips that were tinted a soft pink. She hated to admit it but she loved his hair. He kept it in either braids or twisted plaits tied in a low bun. This time, two braided strands hung on either side of his face with the rest tied back which seemed to bring a softness to him that he did not deserve.

He was too handsome and ugly souls like him should not be handsome.

“I’m pretty tired sir. With everything that you’re having me do, I’m pretty worn out. I think I’ll sit this one out. Maybe next year?” Xenia let the sarcasm drip into her words and revelled in the way that he rolled his eyes.

“Not this time, Miss Richards.” Lewis spoke as he placed his hands into his pockets. The side of his face twitched in a way that showed that her tone had bothered him. He looked at Miles for a brief moment before turning his attention back to Xenia.

“Have you completed the list Mr Chamley gave you?”

Xenia frowned in confusion and slight annoyance. “You mean the list that he just gave me two seconds ago?”

“Watch that tone with me Richards. Get it done and then figure out your outfit situation for tonight.” His eyes dropped down the length of her frame, the heat of his stare forced her back straighter. “I’m sure because of your little hobby, you’ll be able to figure out something in such short notice.’

Without another word, he indicated for Miles to follow him before he turned and disappeared back into his office. That was it, a demand that he expected to be followed. No please. No thank you.

Dickhead.

Miles offered her an apologetic smile before he followed behind Lewis towards the office. Then she looked down at the list that had been placed in front of her.

Lunch from Bubala: Tuna Nicoise on toasted focaccia with the soup of the day.

Coffee order from Blank Street.

Dry cleaning from Nova’s (Need the shirt for tonight.)

She stared at the list, seemingly remembering the words from her interview. How she was supposed to his right hand and right hand only. Now she was doing that and somehow also finding the time to pick up his fucking laundry. Xenia looked around her surroundings before her moving eyes settled on the falling snow through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The slow and steadiness at which the snowflakes seemed to fall was a drastic contrast to the fast pace that her mind was running. Maybe if she was lucky, Santa’s reindeer’s would run her over with his dry cleaning getting trampled on.

Xenia was surrounded by the settling blankets of picture perfect snow as she walked down the Main Street in her FENDI vintage boots. Christmas lights decorated the buildings with wreaths hanging on each lamp post. Everything around her was perfect and yet, Xenia still felt like the Grinch but who’s Christmas was being stolen from her.

Everything about the festive holiday that should give her all the joy was not giving her the warm and fuzzy feeling that it used to. This had been the feeling that had been sentiment since the first year at Hamilton Enterprises. Lewis seemed to have sucked the life out of her. However, Xenia had to take a deep breath and remind herself that she won't be a personal assistant forever.

Her fashion content was rising in popularity and it was only a matter of time before the vitality would turn into constant income then she would be able to leave. For good.

She sighed to herself once more as she hauled the dry cleaning over her shoulder as she entered into Bubala. The low lights, exposed brick and the flush of the Christmas colours added to the things that she adored about the shop. The queue to the counter was atrocious but it didn’t bother Xenia at all. It only prolonged her time away from the office. The smell of freshly baked goods, warm soup and the sounds of cheery, festive music was far more appealing to her than the four corners of her small cubicle.

As she waited in line, she scrolled through her emails, grinning at a report from Rebecca. She had already sorted through the first predicted quarter of the merchandise branch. She was a stickler for deadlines, often completing the work before the imposed time. How Rebecca was able to find the time to do it all? Xenia would never know.

“That smile will always outshine the brightest star.” A soft voice cut through the chatter of the restaurant and nestled within her ears. Her shoulder relaxed as she peered at the owner of the voice.

Nathan Fieldman.

Modality manager of the radiology department at the Great Ormond Street Children’s Hospital. A Marvel enthusiast and the owner of the cutest golden daschund she’d ever seen.

Also, her ex-boyfriend.

Xenia offered him a platonic embrace, his Sauvage cologne causing her eye to water. She almost wanted to sneeze in repulsion. As they pulled apart, upon instinct, he reached out to touch her standing Afro. Yes, he was one of those men. But that wasn’t the reason that they had broken up. (even though in the long-run, it should have been a reason.)

No, they broke up because the leader of the Legion army of hell demanded so much of her time that it cut into the spending time that she had with Nathan. Their schedules did not align any more and she felt sorry for always leaving him hanging and cancelling plans last minute.

The guilt was heavy within her as she often left him to fend for himself. When she had suggested however, to quit her job and focus on being a fashion content creator, he thought that it wasn’t wise nor a sustainable career. That had been the last wedge in the relationship. So by the time that Xenia had asked for the break up, Nathan did not put up any type of fight. He was complacent in almost everything including the bedroom.

Now that she thought about it, there were a lot of things outside of her job that had resulted in the termination of their relationship.

“So what has you smiling like that Nini?” The cringey nickname made her want to vomit. Xenia did not miss that at all.

“Nothing in particular. I was just reading a report.” She kept her answer vague. Nathan’s eyes narrowed, pulling the rich brown skin at the corners of his eyes together.

“You still haven’t found your footing huh?”

“Not quite.” She answered with a smile that did not touch her eyes. She tried to ignore the rising insecurity within her at the tone of condescension in his words. He didn’t need to know that her lack of growth in the field of her passion was a soft spot for her and constantly had her worried that she would fail. The last person that she needed to confine in was her ex-boyfriend.

Clearing her throat as she shuffled forward in the queue. “So how is everything with you?”

Nathan’s eyes beamed, the skin of his cheeks spreading his five o’clock fuzz as he delved into the details of his past year in about the twenty minutes as they waited. She learned about all of the unique patients that he had come across and the department drama amongst his plans to expand into teaching university students. Along his retelling, he had mentioned that he had started dating again.

“So how’s everything with you? How are things for you these days?” Nathan finally asked Xenia as the both of them paid the cashier for their individual orders.

She shrugged her shoulders. What was there to say? Nothing had changed in the last year she had spoken to him. She was still stuck in the same job that she hated, doing things for a man she’d rather watch eat shit for pay as she struggled to produce any consistent content for her website.

“Nothing much. Just learning from the best around me, really.”

“That’s good to hear. Did you finally give up on the fashion stuff then?”

It took all of her strength to not tell him that it took an entire weekend in the Cotswolds to find the vintage Tory Burch blazer that she was wearing but the ping of her phone stopped her. As Xenia was about to offer an apology, Nathan placed a kiss on her cheek and picked his order from the counter.

“Duty calls, I know. It was nice seeing you, Nini. Take care.” A deep breath exhaled through her nose as she nodded. Xenia then grabbed her own bag from the counter as she looked down at her phone.

Arsehole: Coffee from MonMouth instead. Get one for yourself - I can’t have you sleeping before your duties are done. And sushi from Atelier for Mile.

Where were those fucking reindeers? She thought.

reading list: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @saturnville @hopefulromantic1 @lettersofgold @cocobutterqwueen @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @sapphireheaven @olyvoyl @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @laneywrld @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy @bekindbecoolbeyou @greedyjudge2 @itsapurrfectstorm @createdbylivingclocks @omgsuperstarg @peyiswriting @miyuhpapayuh @blowmymbackout @purplelewlew @henneseyhoe @perfecttrashface @alianovnaromanovanatalia @leilaxaliel @hotfudgeslug @iamryanl @pickingupmymercedes @eleetalks @ambs-06 @annisassintchaska @boujiestpoet @nayaesworld @nat-lh-44 @mochachocolatteyaya @melaninpov @kindan3rdy951 @elyseesarchive @sl33p-deprived-princess @soiguessimtheshit @acidlv @trinitoldyouso @gwenda-fav @f1-football-fiend

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penvisions · 10 days ago

Text

services requested {chapter two}

Pairing: Older! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: With the flourish of a contract that contains a section titled 'Intimacy Clause' and a quirk of your lips, you turn Joel Miller's life upside down.

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: no outbreak au, modern au, age gap (joel is mid 50's, reader is late 20's / early 30's), reader is more of an oc written in the x reader style, reader is described to have a scar and tattoos, mommy vibes, reader see's joel and knows she wants to provide for him, joel is older and tired, his life beginning to slow as his body aches, power dynamics, sexual undertones, instant connection, mutual pining, flirting, casual touches, mutual attraction, angst, family drama, strained family dynamics, mention of pregnancy (not reader or joel), verbal threat, argumentative language, joel and tommy y'all good god, think that's it!

Fic Notes: please, if you have any qualms about the setting of this fic, do not reblog or comment with hate. my dms are open for discussion if you feel like you need to say anything. let's be respectful going into a new year, there are ample warnings and you are in charge of the content you consume

A/N: hi, i'm back with chapter two for y'all! ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

You can’t help but feel a bit shy around him, with a contract being looked over by one of your friends who works in the more…lucrative business of strip clubs and the party scene. She’s around the same age, working alongside the owner of one of the classier and legitimate night clubs, where she acts as a legal representative for the girls that work there as well as others who come through the doors looking for a little adult fun.

She had arrived just as Joel was leaving for the day, her eyes widening as she watched him toss a out a bag of garbage into the outside bin on his way out of the door and off the job for the day. He had nodded politely at her, though his lips didn’t lift quite as much at the corners as they did for you. Her squeal the second the front door was loud, and you immediately shushed her and clamped your hands over her mouth while peering through the blinds to see if he heard it. Thankfully he hadn’t turned at the rather alarming sound as he loaded up into his truck and took off down the street.

“That’s the Mr. Miller I keep hearing about?!”

That was days ago, and the renovation is in the last stages. New walls are up, drywall and mudding complete. All that was left was the kitchen downstairs and the tiling in the bathroom. Painting was tomorrow, once the colors were picked out too.

Today you were going to tag along with the older man to the supply store to look over tiles, none of the ones in the catalogue he had left on your desk in the study popped out at you. He’s been working hard, to get everything done on schedule. Your parent’s return is in two weeks and he’s determined to have it all polished and shining by the time you head out to get them from the airport.

Professionality and friendship seem to be a good mix for you. Calling him Mr. Miller when he reminds you to call him Joel, him lingering at the end of each day to make sure he gives you a run down of what got done and what will be on the agenda of tasks for the next one. He playfully calls you ma’am in return, though he uses your name sometimes too.

A running joke of sorts, between the two of you. But also, it’s not really a joke at all. But a way to draw an invisible line- no physical contact has happened since that day your composure cracked and fell into tiny pieces around you alongside your hot tears. But you swear you can feel his eyes trailing after you when you’re working around the house.

You’re both jokingly picking out the most garish colors and saying they would look perfect in the living room, the bathroom, the upstairs bedrooms. His own thick fingers brushing yours as you both huff laughter and reach for new swatches. The attendant behind you is smiling at the scene, younger than you and stuck at such a boring job of mixing colors for people that seem too focused to have fine like you two are. But the bubble of easy going fun is broken by a man donned in a grey sweat pants and a plain tee.

He calls your name, in question. As if he doesn’t quite want to bother you if you don’t hear him. But you do, and so does Joel. With laughter still on your tongue, you turn with a wide smile in the man’s direction.

“Micheal! Oh my gosh, it’s so good to see you.” You don’t move to shake his hand, something Joel’s stomach flips over noticing. You keep the tight curl of your fingers over the swatch of blinding yellow he had jokingly suggested for the kitchen that you had pried from his own grip. Your long nails, done up in a soft pink this time had scraped against his skin and nearly short circuited his thoughts. But they’re back now as he watches you interact with this random man.

“I just wanted to say hi and thank you again for the session. It was such a dream, honestly.” The man’s words are genuine, his expression one of open awe. It has Joel stiffening behind you, aware that this may be awkward for him.

“I’m so glad, it’s always a fun challenge when someone comes to me with an idea like that. But I’m glad we could execute it perfectly for you.” Behind you, you can feel Joel stiffen. His entire body goes rigid and you sneak a look at him over your shoulder, but he’s seemingly fascinated by the color samples in his hands…

The rest of the trip around the store is strained, Joel won’t look you in the eye and you feel like he’s avoiding brushing up against you. He assures you he can load everything up into the back of the truck so you’re stewing in the passenger seat waiting for him to finish. The ride back isn’t nearly as happy and easy-going as the ride there and you can’t get the words out to ask if everything is okay, your fight or flight triggered and flight is your go to nowadays. It didn’t used to be…

He gets to unloading as you hide yourself away in the office, sketching app open and stylus in your immobile hand as your back twinges painfully. The scar dug into the skin there feeling like it was just carved your mind replays the event on a loop. You can faintly hear the soft squelch of the paint rollers working, an easy day of work all in all.

But he doesn’t come to bid you a good afternoon, nor does he seem to stop for lunch.

Too caught up in your memories, you sit in the locked office until well after the sun goes down. Reaching out to your assistant to reschedule your consultations booked for that afternoon and evening with a quick text the second you got back from the store…

Two weeks fly by, your little spell invigorating you after wallowing.

It wasn’t productive and it hadn’t helped anything, but it was necessary. Processing and resting, giving your mind and body the chance to work through something is important. Realistically you know that, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Anxiety and trauma are always something you will have to struggle with, no matter how big of a name you make for yourself.

The walkthrough in the morning goes okay, almost back to the comfortable and borderline flirtatious camaraderie you and Joel had established early on. Everything was perfect, the colors, the tiling, the patterns, all of it amazing and beyond what you had expected. Even if you actively watched Joel create the cabinets with his hands, seen the sketches of what he envisioned for the space based on your words and description.

“I really appreciate all the work you put into the renovation, it came out so amazing.” You shuffle the papers in your hand, knocking them against the top of the desk to straighten them out before stapling the bunch of them together. Reaching for an envelope, you place the card you had taken out in his name- attached to your expenses account that you used for your own supplies. That was secured to the top of the stack with a binder clip. “And I was wondering if I could hire you.”

"What do you mean, you want to hire me? I'm already workin' a job for you." His confusion is clear, brows furrowed and lips slightly pursed. His hands are secure on the arms of the chair he occupies. He only needs one or two more days of cleaning and wiping everything down, ensuring no dust from the construction work lingers, no nails or screws are prominent, sand down a few edges here and there. And then of course he offered to help put away what appeared to be a whole new kitchen in the form of pots and pans, cutlery and serve wear, fancy glasses and a set of ceramic mugs that looked hand painted. Everything had come in boxes throughout his workdays, piling up in the garage that contained most of your stuff from when you moved back.

"For your...services, Mr. Miller. To be called upon at any time." You try to keep your excitement from showing too much, not wanting to weird him out or make him feel any more awkward with what you are just about to do. You’ve never offered someone such a thing before….to be their sole provider and essentially a sugar momma. Though you did explicitly claim there was no pressure or obligation to be intimate in exchange for the funds you wanted to provide him. He’s just a handsome man whose lived a full, busy life and you wanted to offer him a much deserved break.

But as soothing as you keep your voice and even as you keep your tone, based on the way his face falls from a small grin to a frown and his demeanor shifts from friendly curiosity to irritated, you see that you’ve already failed.

“Listen, I don’t know what kinda man you think I am but I don’t run in the same circles as you. And as flattered as I am that you think-“ He looks a little flustered, obviously upset enough for his face to contort into something you would call grumpy. Would normally tease him about if you walked into a room and saw him making the same expression as he looked down at something or over some blueprints.

“What kind of circles do you think I run in?” You cut him off, unwilling to let his mind run away and taint the professional friendship you two have been cultivating over the last month. The incident at the hardware store crops up in your mind and suddenly everything clicks into place. He most likely thinks you work in the same business as your friend.

“You uh- well, you dress kinda fancy all the time and you’re off during the daytime. Always got your hair and nails lookin’ nice….kinda figured you-“

“I’m not a stripper or dancer. Nor do I do porn or escort services.” Your brows furrow, it should be funny- the mistaken identity, but the truth is that it hurts a little.

You lean back, unable to quell the unease of even entertaining the idea of offering him a contract if he felt so strongly about what he thought you were asking of him- of his assumption of who you were.

There was nothing wrong with anyone who chose that lifestyle and employment, but you had made a name for yourself doing what you did best. The constant under the breath and snide comments about how you carry yourself is the only reason for your success still stings. The notion that you use your looks to get clients, that it’s the only reason they seek you out; it completely diminished the passion and love you pour into every single job you take on for a long while. And Joel is voicing it right alongside the countless others that have before him. “My services are in the art industry. I’m a tattoo artist.”

You know that your eyes are focused, not quite on him but on the curls that still frame his temples. Too long, as you very well know from one of your casual conversations. It’s…not a good feeling to hear the words so many have said before coming from him. He’s been a constant in your life since the beginning of the renovation and he’s seen parts of you that no one has in a long time. For him to openly share his thoughts causes a tightening in your chest. A twinge in your back along the sensitive skin of the scar that sits there as a constant reminder to be careful.

“Mr. Miller, I can assure you that I’m not trying to get you to do anything untoward, there might be a little paragraph in there but you dictate the parameters of the contract. Completely. Everything is up to you and you certainly don’t have to accept it or even entertain the thought if you’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m sorry, I just…” Joel feels like a fool, a damned fool for letting his mind run away from him and his tongue for blurting out probably one of the most insensitive things he could’ve said in response to a new job offer from you. He can see the way you withdraw slightly, probably offended but trying to keep your composure. You’re too good for him and this just proves it even further.

“Assumed. Yes, I can see that now. How things look, maybe this was a bad idea.”

Fuck. No, no, no- he doesn’t think it’s a bad idea to offer him another job but…his mental calendar is full for the next six weeks. One job scheduled after this one, his expenses a little tied up after that with his birthday coming up soon- he had told Sarah he would come visit with Ellie, he hasn’t seen where she’s settled with her boyfriend. It…it’s a lot to handle on his own. Keeping track of one rotating crew with him and then two others working on other jobs around the county.

“No, I- sweetheart, I’m sorry. I’m old okay? I don’t know what I’m talking about but the only services I offer are contracting and repair work." He brings a hand up to run a thumb underneath his bottom lip, eyes taking in the flutter of your lashes as his apology soaks into your skin. The almost...yearning look about your soft features. Younger than he is, in full control of those should you choose to lay that look upon. He's sure the boys your age would fall over themselves to see it again, to see more. Hell, he's ready to fall over himself and he's surely twice your age. “I’m not sure how useful I’d be if-“

“I’m in the process of obtaining permits to build on an empty city block. Two buildings. Two shop fronts. I figured you would be able to help out, but I understand if it’s not something you’re interested in. Really.”

And now you’re backpedaling, he feels like such an asshole for what he said. You…you’re an artist. A tattoo artist and really, he doesn’t know how he hadn’t picked up on that. You’ve decorated your skin with beautiful pieces, the sketchbook and tablet you’re always scribbling away on. The mention of clients, long hours, charges, the constant ink stains he sees on your clothes when you get home from work…

He doesn’t want to turn you down, can’t really turn you down. You hadn’t batted an eye at the quote he had given you for the work on your parent’s house. Nor had you argued anytime something needed an extra cushion to get the better quality option of supplies. When he had offered a discount, you had waved him off but he planned to do it anyway. You were sweet, you were considerate and he knows he wouldn’t hear the end of it if his brother found out he had a soft spot for you. But honestly? With the way his brother had been pulling away, taking on less jobs- answering less calls and responding with messages at odd hours or even the summary and final check stapled to paperwork of the rare job he takes on is the only form of communication he’s been getting from the man. So, who cares what he thinks about a discount, when it was Joel’s company.

One he had been fully prepared to hand over to his brother once upon a time. To help straighten him out, give him a hand in a world that demanded so much from him as a soldier and then turned its back on him as an honorably discharged veteran.

You take it all in stride, keeping your composure as best as you can, shoving all the negative feelings down. He’s a good man, he just…he just assumed like he said. Blinking away the unease and slightly awkward tinge to the air you tell him that you understand what he’s saying. He would be perfect for the job you want to offer him, even still. Joel’s ears turn pink at the top, his throat bobbing as he sits there and takes in all the kind words you have for him- even after he basically called you an adult entertainer asking after him to partake in…. something he wasn’t even sure he had a clear idea of.

All so he could see that smile grace your lips and see a flash of teeth he can't help but stop picturing what they would look like holding tight over your own bottom lip, depraved sounds slipping between them as he pressed tight and heavy over you. As his hips slam into yours, his co-

Jesus, he needs a minute to get a handle on himself. Everything is all consuming with you, feelings bubble up, urges strike him strong enough to wear down any thought of resistance. You make him feel like he’s seen, like he’s important, like he matters. It’s no wonder his little crush on you has manifested.

He shakes his head, aware of the watching gaze you don't let up from him as you sit serenely at your desk. The top of your shirt dipped low as you lean forward to rest your chin in the cup of your hands, taunting him. What little power he feels from his larger frame, his years over you, his skills he knows you don't share- they diminish as he glances down to the new skin before meeting your eyes again. You’re too enamoring, too ingrained into his mental space to feel like he’s got any sort of control- even if the working relationship is good, not awkward and even friendly like he wanted it to be.

Small conversations, coffee some mornings as you hang around and watch him place tiles into designs that you request, take out boxes with either your name or his scribbled on them and scattered around the coffee table in the living room. The guys never stay for lunch, opting to go out and get some fresh air.

You tilt your head just a bit, and like a match catching, friction igniting it- his stomach jolts as he pictures that same look aimed up at him as you sit on your knees in front of him. Good god, his mind needs a good rinse. Especially if he’s going to consider accepting the more than generous offer on guaranteed continued work.

"I have a company to run, can't exactly turn down an offer for a job."

"This would be more of an... open-ended contract. I would reach out for any repairs your capable hands are able to work on. From mechanics of vehicles, to construction work, to repairs on established properties. New properties that waiting on permits, like I mentioned. I’m also finalizing the sale on a personal property, so I would need help with getting that up to code as well. I would pay you a going rate of..."

Joel's mind goes blank, the amount offered per week is astronomical. As much a single job he’s taking one at a time with how he’s got to schedule everything. The same amount he would earn from weeks, if not months of working day in and day out. The way you go on about how even if you didn't have any jobs for him during a week, he would still be compensated. His meals provided and a company card with his name plastered on it in silver on a slick black is flashed at him atop a neat stack of papers with bold print.

"For you to look over, Mr. Miller. There is no rush, nor does the offer expire. Please get back to me at your convenience."

"Uh, well-" He isn't sure what to think, how to feel at the moment. The offer too good to be true, the amount of money would allow him to only work for you. His own clients are willing to pay for his work but not to wait for the time frames he's been giving lately. It's only him in command of three crews, they can only work so fast, and he's seeing them get poached by other companies with better hours, more pay.

Joel's made a name for himself with 'Miller Contracting'. But as the years go on, his hopes to pass it on to his younger brother become a more silly notion than something that could happen. A person who has begun to see his life toward a different path, one of less hours and more focus on his wife and unborn baby. He sighs, knowing that the thoughts would circle endlessly in his mind should he let them begin. The whole reason he has the job for you now is because his brother bailed…

"There is absolutely no pressure, just wanted to extend the offer. I have found that...other men have embellished their skill sets in order to receive the same offer. Jokingly claim they don’t care but then become petulant when it’s obvious it’s not going to happen. But you have the skills, you are competent."

"I'll-I'll get back to you, ma'am."

"The number at the top of the contract, it's an all hours one. Feel free to reach out with any questions or concerns, any stipulations or changes you'd like to make. I hope you have a very good rest of the day, Mr. Miller." You smile at him, eyes bright as you watch the way his throat bobbed with a harsh swallow.

Later that evening, two drinks deep and another poured into his cup, he settles into the worn leather of his couch with the contract in his hand. He's flipping through the many pages, preparing to read through it when a certain word catches his eye, making him choke on the drink swallow he had just taken.

Intimacy Clause

His skin is suddenly hot, fueled by the liquor he's already ingested, his thoughts turning to filth as a flash of pleasure flares brightly in his belly. Oh....he's certainly in over his head. He's heard of this- what was it called? Sugar daddy dynamic, but if he's the one getting the benefits and wages in exchange that would make him- no, he doesn't want to think about it that way. It's a job offer, a working contract.

He's got half a mind to deny the contract outright, but he can't help the way his eyes devour the words in front of him, from the first page to the last. It’s the perfect opportunity to keep you in his life, a way to keep you as close as his heart begs him too. Friendship something he wants, but the appearance of what it looks like on the outside bothering him still as he realizes how much older he is. Sure, he could run into you when around your parents and at neighborhood gatherings…but if he were to be your personal contractor. Your go-to man for construction and repair work, for…anything really- now that would really make him feel like he was worth the attention you seem to want to dot on him.

His phone is in his hand, thick fingers dialing the number you had provided, no regard for the late hour of the night. He's downing the last bit of his drink, grunting around the sting of it as he hears the ringing loud in his ear.

His heart is beating heavy, slowly, anticipation making him feel like there are far too many rings for there to be an answer on the other side of the line. He's about to cancel it when there's a click and your melodic voice greets him, pleasure flaring up in his belly again.

"Been thinking about me, Mr. Miller?" The coy tone causes a shiver to run down his spine.

Oh shit, he's definitely in over his head.

He looks good, but he doesn’t feel good. You can tell by the grimace marring his plush lips into a frown and the tension he holds in his entire body. Joel is casually walking across the street to where you’re sitting on the porch with a cup of steaming coffee. The house is being cleaned by the company you hired to detail everything. Not that it was particularly dirty, the crew had helped you to dust and wipe everything down as well as possible. It was more of an extra step for your parents to know that you want them to come back from a well-deserved vacation with no worries to even think of. Groceries are stocked in the fridge and pantry, bottles smoothies and juices at the ready for them to slip back into their lives.

It would be your last morning here, fresh from a late night at work and then doing inventory of all your supplies. A huge order loaded up on your phone that you needed to place once you settled into the home you had just finalized the sale on last week. It was finally ready for you to move in, though you suspected the work you wanted to enlist Joel’s help with would take some time.

But you both had it now, in spades. To be with each other, to work alongside each other.

He’s in a pullover sweatshirt that allows for the collar and hem of his shirt underneath to peak out. A little large on him, but not slouchy. He looks like he’s trying to not put too much pressure on his joints and you quickly set a reminder on your phone to schedule a massage for him sometime in the next week. A little gift to help ease some stress. You could use one too, you think as you see the barrage of missed calls from a blocked number. The area code for the city you had just moved from…

“Hey there, rough morning?” His voice is coarse, filling in the humid morning air with a little more warmth as he approaches and stands at the bottom of the porch steps. He’s got on a pair of glasses…and you’re thoughts are swirling in the gutter as you imagine him staring down through the lenses at you as you kneel before him…

Swallowing the sip you just took, you tilt your head toward the other side of the patio lounge you’re on, legs curled up beneath you. Large cardigan keeping you comfortable over a pair of jeans and a tank top. There’s ink stained on the front, the collar dipping low as you had moved around to finish a giant custom piece for most of the evening.

“It’s been alright, can’t really call it ‘morning’ if I haven’t been to sleep yet,” You feel a thrill down your spine as he sits, his thigh brushing up against your bare knee where a hole in the denim exposes it. You don’t move and he doesn’t shy away either. He’s got the thick stack of papers in his hand, but the envelope with the check for his renovation and the card with his name on it are gone.

“We can make this quick, then, if you want to get to bed.”

“No need, I’m moving today and then work later.” You offer him your mug and he gingerly takes it from you to slurp the sweetened and creamed coffee inside. His thick moustache catches a few droplets and as your eyes linger, his tongue sneaks out to capture them. “I’ll catch a nap in the afternoon, no need to worry, Mr. Miller.”

“Sweetheart, told you to call me Joel.” He hands you back the mug. His brown eyes catch yours and you feel your entire body go still, worry igniting you that he’s about to tell you he’s thought the contract over and wants nothing to do with it…

“Especially if I’m gonna hand this back over with my signature scrawled on it.”

“Really?” Your eyes widen as you turn to face him completely.

“You seem surprised.” He’s laughing as he flips to the last page to show you and it releases all the tension in your chest. He’s got such a good laugh, hearty and full. You want to do everything you can to hear it more, to give him a reason to laugh more. More time to focus on what he wants, not worried about keeping up with big projects that take so much time to complete. Not that he minds, like he’s assured you, he loves the work and wants to do it. But it’s getting to be a lot to handle, his brother is finding himself a different path- something he mentioned when you had asked after the other Miller brother and why he hadn’t been the one to take on your job.

“I was a little worried, it’s not exactly a normal thing to be offered. But like I said, everything is up to you, the jobs are the jobs, the work is still work, everything else is completely up to you.”

“Don’t think anything can be considered normal these days, but,” He’s reaching to place his palm on your knee in a comforting gesture. “I could honestly really use the break you’re lending me. Gives me the chance to be more present in the girls’ lives. I’ve got one last job I’ve already taken a deposit on, a small trip out to see Sarah and then I’m all yours. It’s a generous offer and I’d be a fool to turn it down.”

“What’s the last job?”

“An above ground pool and deck, shouldn’t take more than two weeks. Give me until next month, then we can get everything settled. If that’s okay?”

“I don’t mind how long it takes, I was going to pay you the first month upfront, even if you didn’t want to do this. As a bonus of sorts, for the amazing job you did here.” You wave your hand behind you toward the house. The cleaning crew is already busy, their chatter and light music filling the home with life.

“You really are somethin’, you know that?” He’s tipping his head down, looking at his scuffed and paint stained boots. Pink tinging his ears as he does so, the fingers over your knee digging in and then releasing in move you aren’t sure he’s aware of.

“You’re a good man, Joel Miller. And I want you to see that, you deserve the chance for a slower life, for a life you want. Now let’s go.” You gulp down the last of the coffee and set it down on the patio table to your right. The contract slides into the bag at your feet and you’re standing.

“Where we goin’?” He’s sill got those damn thick rimmed glasses on and he looks good enough to eat as he looks up at you from his spot still on the whicker couch. He hasn’t gotten up alongside you, unsure what’s going to happen now that the paperwork is officially signed and accepted- a date for the next month picked out for him to officially be on your payroll. As a sugar baby. Well, a contracted workman but the reality of the situation isn’t just that.

But you do, you’re going to take care of him. Exactly like you promised.

“To the salon. You said you’ve been putting off a trim.”

“We don’t have-“

“Joel. You said you don’t much like your hair as long as it is, it’s an easy fix.”

“I don’t…got a meeting with my brother this afternoon.” He shuffles on his feet, boots scuffing the new coat of sealant on the porch he put on with his own two hands. “Gonna tell him about the business.”

“It’s only ten, we’ll be done by then.” You go to grip his shoulder with a light hand. Your nails grazing his arm on the way up. The reassuring smile you give him melts him, you can see it. “I promise.”

A short drive later and a more than enthusiastic interaction in the industrial and modern looking salon, Joel sits with a grimace into a chair and lets the hairdresser fasten the cape securely over his throat. The place is so fancy, certainly not the master bathroom or the corner barbershop tucked into the end of a strip mall that he normally frequents. He’s tense and you feel bad so you hold up a finger to motion for the woman to pause for a moment. She smiles at you, noticing his unease as well.

“Hey,” You whisper as you come to stand behind him. He’s watching you with his dark eyes through the mirror, noticing the grays that make up most of his facial hair, steel tone that gives away how dark his hair had been once upon a time. His curls too, are the same dark gray intermixed with ash strands. Thick and erring on the side of ringlets if they should grow any longer. Your fingers gently scratch at the back of his head as you dig them into his hair, thumbs massaging up the back of his neck in a soothing gesture.

His hair is as soft as you imagined, like silk against your skin and you hum a little as you notice his eyes flutter at your ministrations. His shoulders drop and he let’s out a deep breath he must’ve been holding in.

“It’s just a trim, okay? Whatever you want, however you like it. You deserve it and you’ll feel so much better, I promise.”

And goddamn, if it’s not hard to keep promising things to one Joel Miller.

He’s so flighty, so nervous when he doesn’t know what to expect in a situation like this. Out of his depth and a little uncomfortable with the first outing as you go-to guy for all things. A paid companion of sorts. A strong contrast to the confidence he struts around with and moves through a space he’s working on, through the hardware store, as he drives his truck expertly throughout the suburban and city streets.

And when his eyes open back up, he’s returning your gentle smile with one of his own. Completely as ease. It makes your heart speed up and warmth pool in your middle.

Joel’s not nervous, but he’s not exactly thrilled to share the news of his company becoming an- contracted one he guesses would be the right term. One that has the sole purpose of fulfilling your every need, no matter now small or large a scale the project or task is. A way to provide for you and be a friend to you, to keep you close like he can’t seem to resist. He’s made peace with the decision, he’s comfortable in his decision. But his brother is…

“Why didn't you come to me, brother? I would've- I would've done anything to help, hell, I would've jumped back into working jobs everyday with you if that's what it took to save the company.” Tommy is certainly playing the part of the concerned younger sibling, professing empty words that Joel knows he wants to mean. But he doesn’t. He’s been struggling since coming back from his last tour and Joel’s done just about all he could to help in that department. Up to and including helping him with financial stuff and hiring a district attorney to help him when it had gone too far…

“Tommy, c'mon.” Joel tries to keep his tone in check, but Tommy is more than a little upset that he hadn’t known how stressed his brother was. How could Joel have told him? When could he have even told him, this is the first time to two of them have actually sat down and not just traded half conversations over the phone or even at the sad excuse of an office rented for the business. It was easier for them to work out of a trailer they would park at job sites, more secure for them to have eyes on the space that helped them to operate, well Joel to operate.

“Don't you do that, act like I don't care.” Wide brown eyes are turned toward him, the same ones that worked to get him to take the blame for too many eaten cookies before dinner, a broken lamp when they were too reckless running around the house, or when paired with a wobbling lip and tears that Joel would take make sure no one but him got into trouble. The big brother, always looking out for his younger one.

“I couldn't get you to even answer the damn phone, let alone work anymore 'n you wanted to.” A harsh scrub of his palm against his chin rustles the stubble there. Honest and reality checking words simmer in his belly, heating him up from the inside out and he realizes that there’s no stopping them from bubbling up.

He’s hurt, dammit. By the fact that after everything he’s done, his brother still decides to be selfish in a way he wished he could be proud of. Family is important, but the woman that Tommy is choosing over everything else…It just doesn’t sit well with him. “The business is good, just getting a little back logged and people aren’t willing to wait that long for certain work. It’s tough with just me and the crews, really expected to have a little more help.”

“That's not fair, I got...I got things I'm taking care of, Maria she-“

“This isn't about her, Tommy! This is about you doin' whatever the hell you wanna do, just like fucking always. your whole damn life, you've been like this.” He feels the words surge through him, spurred on by the sheer contrast of interacting with you and then his brother. One was family and yet…you treated him with more respect, you seemed to care enough to offer him a way to support himself better, to provide for him, to help him.

And the man across from him is doing nothing but making excuses as to why he hasn’t offered more.

“Joel, if I had known-“

“But you didn't! Didn’t even bother to ask how all the jobs you kept bailing on got done, how they got managed into my already full schedule. You know Ellie is thinkin’ of moving out because she thinks she’s too loud in a house that’s quiet when I’m not there and even more so when I am? She feels like a burden on me because I’m workin’ so damn hard and I pass out the second I get home.”

“Ellie’s an adult, but I’m sorry the work has you feeling like an absent father. Maybe you shouldn’t have-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Tommy. I love that girl with my whole fucking heart. I made the decision to transition to contracted work, to help out a friend with her business and personal projects. She’s supplin’ me with enough cash flow to make it worth my while and give me more down time.”

“Yeah and what, you think some pretty, successful woman is gonna be the key to keeping your company. You sold out, man, she's gonna be changing things, controlling things, you don't even know the half of it. You should've-“

“You weren't there!” Joel hollers, his patience gone and his head pounding. He realizes that the table next to them looked up from their menus at his outburst but he doesn’t care. “You weren't there, mentally, physically, you were gone off in your own little world, Tommy! She was....she saw me struggling and she treated me with kindness and respect- she was there to help! She was fucking there, Tommy!”

“You really think she gives a shit about you? Cause she don’t! She just sees an old man to buy out and take over a company because she’s bored, needs something to play with. The girls are going to flip when they find out how weak you were when a pretty little thing flashed a smile at you. All cause you think she cares about you, but she ain’t your family, Joel. Stop lookin’ for it in all the wrong places.”

“You ain’t been much of family lately, Tommy. But go ahead and judge me all you want, this is something I want to do.” He slips the envelope from his back pocket, the logo for his company branded in the top corner, your name beside his above the contact number. It was something you had mocked up for him to look over once the visit to the salon finished. He had liked it, maybe a little too much- to see your names beside each other.

Joel takes the check out from it, so the amount written out is visible. “This is for you and Maria, for my nephew, once he’s born. It’s the severance amount everyone is getting and then some. Cause I take care of my own.”

Joel is shoving up from his seat, jaw muscles twitching. Tommy’s eyes roll up from the check to his older brother looming over him. “You’re no better ‘n me, Tommy. You chased after Maria the second your case was settled.”

He’s not even in his truck for a second before he’s pulling out his new phone and hitting the call button.

All the tension leaves him from the heated interaction the second your voice filters through the line.

“Hey, hey! I’m a little tied up at the moment so you’re on speaker, I hope you don’t mind?” It’s then that he notices the background noise: soft music, the sound of something liquid being shaken up in plastic, and the tacky stretch of cling wrap being unraveled.

“Tha’s alright, sweetheart. Was thinkin’ of coming by, check out those permit applications for you and make sure they’re getting processed okay.”

“Oh! That would be lovely. And you could check out the space I’m renting. So you know where to find me if I’m with a client. I’ll text you the address, yeah?”

“Want anything from the coffee shop?” Joel’s eyes glance across the street. His brother is gone from the table they had shared outside the café. The truck he had seen him pull up in gone as well. He should probably do the right thing and apologize to the server for taking up a table and then not ordering anything. Might as well get the coffee he had intended to as well.

“Mr. Miller, you are too sweet. I’ll text you my order. See ya in a bit!”

The line doesn’t hang up right away and he catches the soft words you speak next.

“He sounds handsome, was that your husband?”

“Oh! No, no, that was my friend. He’s my personal contractor and go to maintenance man.”

“I’m so sorry, I just assumed because I was looking back at your profile before the appointment and noticed the wedding photos on your feed.”

And then the line goes dead, the call ending as his thumb punches the red circle on the screen.

Joel’s heart thuds harshly against his ribs, his insides all twisted up. The way you sounded when you talked about him had been so warm.

My friend.

But then the person sitting in the studio with you had said the very last things he had ever anticipated.

Your husband. Wedding photos.

Were you married and neglected to tell him? Was this all some sort of game you were playing? Did you even have a need for him if you had a man who you called your own already? Where the hell did your husband fall in all of this? Was Tommy right and he was being played like a giant fool?

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sammyluvr · 4 months ago

Text

something about being close — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, angst, fluff, sam and reader are lovingly mean to each other, bad insults (weird, stupid, lame), bad jokes, swearing, canon typical violence and ghosts, arguing, so much kissing, could be ooc but idc, edited but most likely still contains a few mistakes, single usage of y/n, 9.5K words. requested !

summary : sam's being overprotective of you, and it leads to an argument and something more.

“hey, check this out,” sam calls to you and dean, not bothering to look up from his computer screen. “think we found our violent spirit.” you part from your own research without a single qualm, resting a hand on the back of sam’s chair as he leans back for you and dean to get a better look. “marissa hancock. she was a student at the college, died a violent death there, just like we thought. it’s thought that the janitor impaled her with his mop while he was working in her dorm hall, but he was never put away for lack of evidence.”

“explains the janitor kabob,” dean quips, already headed to shrug on his jacket.

“easy solve,” you admit. it only took a solid half hour of searching through records to find the right murder. “but why’s she killing now? she’s had, what?” you lean further over sam’s shoulder to inspect the record, “fifty some years to be killing janitors, why start now?”

“dunno,” sam shrugs, and you can feel his shoulder brush against you, reminding you how close he is. doing your best to stay casual and maybe not stare longingly at his pretty face from this close up, you straighten your back and go to grab your own jacket as sam types away on his keyboard. “looks like her original murderer died two weeks ago.”

“right when the killings started,” dean finishes. “alright, let’s go. you got where she’s buried, sam?”

“yep,” he stands, shutting his laptop. “saint mercy cemetery, not too far.”

“hm,” you laugh out, “second saint mercy cemetery this month. people need to get more creative,” you note as you exit the motel room and head down the short hallway to get to the impala.

“and what would you name a cemetery?” dean asks, ready to catch you off guard or tease you for anything he can get his hands on.

“i should have thought of a clever answer before saying that,” you admit, “but i do wish it were socially acceptable to call them dead people neighborhoods.”

“that’s lame,” sam grins, throwing his arm around your shoulders for just about two seconds before he has to let go to get through the small doorway and outside.

“c’mon,” you complain, “i know it’s kind of lame, and definitely insensitive, but imagine someone just asked you where you’re headed after work and you get to tell them you’re going to the dead people neighborhood. cemetery’s no fun, at least dead people neighborhood is accurate.” you close the back door of the car behind you as you settle in to punctuate your point.

“you’re weird,” sam teases in a matter-of-fact tone, not even looking back from the passenger’s seat to see the sneer on your face.

“no, you’re weird,” you fire back.

“alright, kids,” dean interrupts, “enough bickering like we’re four, we’ve got a job to do,” he snickers as he backs the car up.

“okay, dean,” you and sam chime, voices full of mocking and almost totally in sync. dean rolls his eyes hard, because it’s just one of those days where the two of you can’t stop feeding into the antics of the other, regressing the combined mental age of the three of you by at least twenty years.

having known the brothers since you were kids through bobby, and starting to hunt with them about a year and a half ago, you’ve certainly grown close with the both of them. but a little closer in age, you and sam are nothing but two peas in a pod. and much to dean’s chagrin, that means it only takes a split second for the two of you to switch things up and turn against him when he tries to break up your banter. it’s pretty much all loving argumentation, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying as all hell for whoever has to witness it.

“and for the record, i like dead people neighborhood,” dean offers, ignoring your moment of synchronicity with sam.

“yes!” you celebrate, reaching around the seat in front of you to lightly hit sam’s shoulder. “you’re the lame one, you’re no fun.”

he scoffs, mumbling something to himself about how, “of course dean likes dead people neighborhood. it’s stupid.”

you resist the urge to tell him that he’s stupid, and instead follow dean’s direction to focus on the case.

“hold on, dean. you should drop me off on campus first, one of us should make sure another janitor doesn’t fall on his mop handle before we can burn the bones,” you suggest.

“no.”

your brow furrows at how fast sam shuts you down, his serious tone a harsh contrast to his practically whiny mumble moments before. you glance at dean to see that he’s got his own eyebrows raised in confusion.

“what’d’you mean, ‘no’?” you question.

“i mean,” he clears his throat as if he’s just realized his strong denial was awkward, “that that could be dangerous alone, so i’ll go and you can stick with dean.”

you send a bewildered look to dean, one he doesn’t catch trying to pay attention to the street name up ahead. “i’m sorry, are you suggesting i can’t handle a measly ghost?” mostly you’re confused by sam’s words, but you can’t help letting a bit of offense slip into your voice.

“n-no, no that’s not what i’m saying,” he fumbles, trying to fix what he said, “i meant– i meant it would be safer for anyone not to go alone. so– so i’ll go with you and dean can stick with burning the body.”

it’s a clumsy, bad save that’s entirely unconvincing.

“you’re seriously gonna stick me with grave digging duty?” dean grunts, “y/n’s right, it’s just one ghost, we don’t need two of us to deal with it. digging up a grave is arguably harder.”

“exactly,” you reason, “which is why i should go scope out the dorm hall, and you should go with dean to the dead people neighborhood.”

“she’s buried in a family mausoleum,” counters sam, “her grave doesn’t need to be dug up, which means it’s a one person job, and since there could be an actual violent ghost in the dorm, two people should go. and don’t try to make dead people neighborhood a thing, at the very least it’s too long, not to mention it’s not funny.”

despite the fact that he’s teasing you, you’re glad to hear something normal come out of his mouth. his hesitancy to let you take on the ghost is odd, especially considering the ghost might not show up at all. it’s not like he’s never been protective of you, it’s in both his and certainly dean’s nature. but he knows full well that you are completely capable of handling one violent ghost, and he’s been weird like this for the past two weeks.

you laugh when you admit, “it wasn’t quite as good in context as i thought it would be, but it wasn’t that bad, i’m just tryna to stick with my bit,” you defend, “and fine, two people at the dorms, one on dead person arson.”

“are you serious?” sam laughs, halfheartedly tossing his head back to give you a judgemental look through the corner of his eye.

“dead serious, pun absolutely intended,” you let out a full laugh at the strangled sigh he lets out. oh how you love to rile him up with bad jokes. “you’re too easy, sam. for that, i’m sticking you on grave duty. dean and i will handle the dorm.”

“you should be on grave duty, for all the bad jokes today,” he argues.

dean practically growls in annoyance, “how about i go on grave duty, so i can get away from your annoying asses.” it’s not a suggestion, and the both of you huff out a sigh, but don’t argue.

dean drops you off a little ways from the dorm hall for you to grab a shotgun and salt rounds with less of a chance of being seen. you leave the other shotgun for dean just in case, bothered that yours is still broken from the last hunt. there hadn’t been enough time to fix it yet. so, you grab an iron rod, hoping to use that before any guns on a college campus. it’d be a sticky situation to get out of, being caught with shotguns in a dorm, and at the very least incredibly inconvenient to scare the hell out of a bunch of college aged kids at eleven pm. sam sticks the shotgun under his jacket, generally hiding it from the view of anyone not looking too closely.

walking a few minutes, you find the right dorm hall and sam hands the gun off to you to pull out his lock pick. but, glancing behind you, you shove the gun back into his hands and yank him into you.

“the hell?” he resists for a split second before you quickly interrupt him.

“shut up! hide the gun and act like you’re piss drunk. someone’s coming,” you hiss. in a swift movement, he tucks the gun back under his jacket as you shimmy the iron rod into your sleeve, then he swings his free arm around you, practically dropping half of his weight on you. “dude,” you complain, before falling into character. “sammy, come on!” you whine loudly. “i can’t reach my id with you like this,” you pretend to feel around for something in your back pocket while keeping him standing, and he immediately picks up on what you’re trying to do. he stumbles forward so that you have to use both hands to keep him upright, and you curse at your false struggle. “help me out here, sammy, will you?” you try to make your voice sound overly desperate, maybe a little innocent too, “why don’t you lean against the wall so we can get inside,” you beg, trusting sam to play his part well.

“nooo,” he slurs, dragging the word out in a whiny pitch, “don’t wanna.” he turns into you and haphazardly wraps his lanky arm all the way around your form, tugging you to him and nearly knocking the both of you over. you feel heat rush to your cheeks at this and desperately remind yourself that he’s only pressing his face into your neck so that he can get a look at the person approaching and keep the shotgun well hidden from view.

you see the girl out of the corner of your eye, young and clearly a student headed for the dorm.

“oh, thank god!” you exclaim, “hey, i’m so sorry to bother you, but do you think you could open the door for us?” you ask as sweetly as you can, pulling your eyebrows together to gain sympathy, before adding on a humorous tone, “my boyfriend is stupid drunk and i can’t get us inside.” you can feel sam stiffen for a split second at your words, and you yourself wonder if you should have just gone the “friend” route for the sake of your own sanity. you’re going to want to keep calling sam your boyfriend, over and over again.

“oh my god, of course,” she laughs goodnaturedly, and you thank the lord she’s laid back, rather than some uptight rule follower ready to report you to administration. she swipes her id and holds the door open for you, and as you struggle into the building, you think that sam is making this harder for you than it has to be. but there’s absolutely no denying you love the way it feels to just have him all over you, even for the sake of illegally entering a building with a gun.

“thank you so much,” your voice is one big sigh of relief, slightly muffled by the fabric of sam’s jacket.

“yeah, don’t worry about it,” she smiles, “you two are super cute, by the way,” she compliments before turning towards the stairs and waving a kind goodbye.

you do your best to not stumble over your words as you thank her, heat once again rising to your face, and you’re sure that sam can feel the warmth of your neck. body stiff, you turn and head down the hallway in the opposite direction, sam still clinging to you until it’s clear.

“alright, get off, you big dork,” you snort, gently pushing him away and doing your best to regain your composure to proceed as if you don’t have a massive crush on him. “did ya have to make it so hard for me?”

he shrugs with a sly grin, “had to make it convincing, didn’t i? besides, it was your idea, you don’t get to complain.”

you stick your tongue out at him and he raises his eyebrows as if to say, “really?”

“she was really nice,” you note, voice almost wistful in a way that sam easily picks up on. about a year into hunting with the brothers and dean was off buying food, you and sam had collapsed onto a motel bed together as you had many times before by then, both exhausted after a long case. that night, as you spoke in tired, hushed tones, with no need for anyone but the other to hear your words, you had somehow ended up with your head resting on his biceps and one of his legs swung over yours.

that’s the night you told him you were jealous that he got to go to college, even if it wasn’t for long. you’d told him how you liked the idea of that life, even if you had to return to hunting after it was over. you wanted friends your age, to learn, go to stupid parties and have a college partner. you knew the experience wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, but you wanted it anyway. he’d said, sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than hunting in his opinion. he wanted you to have that. once this was all over, and you both got justice for your families, he’d help you apply, make sure you got in somewhere, maybe even go with you. a hush fell over the room and he knew you weren’t convinced.

“yeah, she was,” he says, his own voice a touch more gentle than moments ago. “we were lucky.” he doesn’t want to tell you that most college kids would be at least cool enough to let you inside, maybe not as friendly as her, but that it’s true you’d like it here. he doesn’t want to remind you of what you can’t have.

a silence falls over the two of you, punctuated only by the shuffling of your feet or the rustle of clothes. it’s comfortable and easy because you’ve done it a million times before. you don’t have to say anything to agree that you’ll head to the basement where the original murder occured. the both of you stay quiet and light on your feet, sam always peering around corners before rounding them.

in the basement he stops you with a simple finger to his lips. he leans in close to whisper as quietly as he can, “janitor’s here.”

you resist the urge to call said janitor an idiot, because who the hell is going to be cleaning an area in which three of your coworkers have mysteriously died in the past two weeks, but you just nod instead, taking in the way that sam’s eyes look under the dim light.

“wanna wait around til dean calls or warn him?” you ask, equally as quiet. he turns his head to look back around the corner before continuing.

“well, we should warn him, but we can’t use the drunk ruse on an employee. he probably has a radio scanner on him, might even be connected to campus security,” he points out.

“fbi?”

“we look too much like college kids right now,” he reasons.

“right,” you agree, “well then, stupid college kids trying to see a murder scene? we’ll link arms and you can hide the gun behind your back. just so we’re near him til dean burns the bones. hopefully nothing’ll even happen.” it’s as if you jinxed it all in that moment, as the lights immediately begin to flicker, the buzz of electricity filling your ears and a sudden chill filling the air. “nevermind,” you curse, flicking the iron rod back into your hand and barging around the corner, only a hair behind sam.

“way to jinx it,” he grunts.

you just scoff and beg him, “just try not to use the gun.” this time neither of you attempt to hide your presence as your shoes pound against the tile floor.

“no promises,” sam says, the gun up and loaded in front of him.

“what the hell?” the janitor barely has the time to exclaim before he’s thrown against the wall.

“i got it,” you warn sam, eager to avoid gunshots and sprinting full speed towards the apparition, iron rod in front of you. you throw all your weight into reaching the ghost of the young girl before she can flicker out of reach. the iron in your hand makes contact, and she evaporates for the time being. unfortunately for you, your momentum keeps you going, through the space the ghost just occupied and straight into the section of the floor slick with soapy water. with no time to gain any semblance of your balance, you slip and come crashing to the ground. your back hits the floor and the wind gets knocked out of your lungs in the same moment that the iron skitters out of your hand.

you struggle a bit to sit up due to the wetness underneath you, gasping slightly and letting curses fall from your mouth the moment you can speak again.

in a split second reaction, sam shouts your name, his voice inappropriately taught and worried for such a silly accident. he’s by your side in an instant, strong hands pulling you up and his anxious voice asking if you’re alright. you wave him off easily, unconcerned for yourself.

“help him,” you urge, “i’m fine.” but he doesn’t back off nearly as easily as you’d think.

“are you sure, did you hit your head? you couldn’t breathe for a second there,” his hands stay glued to you as he rattles off his concerns, ones that you find utterly unnecessary and unhelpful considering the fact that you’re fine, and the ghost could reappear any second. his strong grip keeps you from bending down to scoop up the iron rod, but you have to wrench yourself away from him when you hear a strangled cry come from the janitor. he whirls around with you to see the ghost with her hands around the janitor’s neck, crushing him against the wall as his feet dangle just above the floor. the iron rod is back in your hand in an instant, but sam’s shotgun lays abandoned on the floor a few feet away.

he dives for the weapon, but with a flick of the ghost’s hand, he’s knocked against the wall with a noise so loud it hurts to hear. before she can pay you attention, you fling the iron towards her, vaporizing her once more. the iron clatters to the ground as the janitor collapses to his knees. you rush towards him, pulling him away from the wall before tugging a container of salt from your jacket’s inside pockets. apologetically, you haul the poor man to his feet, throwing a quick look over your shoulder at sam. he’s groaning painfully, but already moving to get back up.

knowing he’s easily survived worse, you turn your attention back to the janitor, who’s sputtering out confused and incoherent questions about what in the goddamn hell is happening.

“just stay there,” you urge him, too pressed for time to add adequate sympathy to your tone. “stay in the circle and she can’t get you.” with practiced ease, you shake the salt onto the ground with barely enough to make a small, solid ring around the man.

you scoop up the gun from the ground, then turn to help sam onto his feet. “we’re gonna have to tough this out til dean gets done,” is all you say when you place the weapon into his hands, despite the urge to ask what the hell is wrong with him and why he’s so off his game. you turn to grab your own weapon, but it seems the ghost is reappearing faster and faster. this time, you’re the one who gets tossed into the wall, but you stay pressed against the cold surface as a mop flies to meet you, the long handle pushing against your throat and cutting off your air supply. you take in a strangled gasp, hands clawing at the old wooden handle and giving yourself a few splinters that you couldn’t care less about in the moment. of course, it doesn’t budge.

the second you’re flattened against the wall, sam shouts your name again, this time with his gun in the air, swinging around to get a shot at the ghost. but before he can react, it flies out of his hand and she reappears right in front of him, pushing him against the wall across from you.

he struggles against her wildly, his hand itching to get free of her hold to reach the hidden iron knife in his pocket. but before he can get there, her grip weakens and she lets out a strangled scream as she bursts into flames. the flames climb up her old fashioned pencil skirt and swallow up the bloody wound in her abdomen. her grip on you and sam falters as she burns away, then dissolves completely as the last of her ashes fade out into the musty basement air.

you drop to your knees, coughing and gasping for breath as the sound of the mop clattering to the floor echoes through the hallway. sam’s saying your name, half through a cough and his voice still so worried as he stumbles towards you. then he’s on his knees too and his hands are sturdy on your shoulders.

“‘m fine,” you rasp out, hand reaching for his bicep to ground you to something solid and steady. he stays right there, completely ignoring the poor man who’s still practically frozen in fear in the tiny circle of salt and the ringing of his phone. one of his hands slips around you to rub soothing strokes up and down your back and it brings you even closer to him, your forehead dipping to rest on his shoulder. you feel silly for how much he’s fussing over you, but you can’t quite scold or question him until you’ve caught your breath. clearly something is bothering him (and you want him so bad), so you let him hold you close.

“are you hurt anywhere?” he finally asks once he feels your breathing even out under his touch.

you pull away from him gently, shaking your head before verbally confirming, “no, i’m alright sam. nothing more than your typical bumps and bruises.” your voice is a touch raspy from the pressure on your throat, but it’s nothing that won’t go away with some water and rest, maybe some tea if really necessary.

his hands stay on you as he stands. “are you sure?” he asks, and you can’t figure out why on earth, heaven, or hell he’s so overly concerned about you. frankly, it’s starting to worry you. and definitely annoy you. all the sudden he’s acting like you’re fragile, like you can’t take care of yourself. things which he should know for a fact aren’t true.

he lets you slip away from his hold as you swoop down to pick up your lost weapons and face the poor janitor.

“sorry about that all. you can step out of the salt now.” he looks at you as if he can’t be sure, and your tone softens a bit. he’s young, probably just a college kid himself. “she’s really gone this time, i promise. you won’t ever have to worry about her again. though, i wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to look for a different job.”

he nods and thanks you, and you tell him to repay the favor by not mentioning you and sam. then, at a pace you certainly can’t blame him for, he scurries away.

“c’mon,” you nod to sam, “we should get out of here. you should also call dean back. he’s probably worried you didn’t answer.” with that, you turn back in the direction of the stairs without looking back at sam, rolling your eyes when your own cell ring. you pick up with a, “we’re fine, dean,” before he can even ask why the hell it took you so long to answer him. he lets out a sigh, half relieved, half annoyed.

“what took ya so long?” he asks anyway.

“had a few bumps in the road since little miss janitor-killer showed up, but we’re fine. neither of us are hurt. would’ya pick us up in the same spot you left us?”

“yeah, ‘course. already on my way, see you crazy kids in five.” with that, he hangs up and you don’t have to glance over your shoulder to feel sam following behind. it’s all just the familiarity of his footsteps, the sound they make, and the pace at which he walks. it’s the particular rustle of his favorite jacket, soft and scratchy sounding all at once. it’s the feeling of his tall figure, his broad chest so close behind you that he’d run right into you if you stopped even for a moment. you debate whether to ask him what the hell is up now or at the motel. for now, the priority is getting out unnoticed, so you clench your jaw a bit and continue in silence because you’re beginning to feel a little angry with him. you think he can feel it, so he stays quiet too, all the way out the dorm and down the street to wait for dean.

it’s not uncommon to be quieter after a hunt is finished because you’re all usually tired and more often than not achey from some toss around or another. but sam can tell there’s something else bothering you tonight. from the way you tilt your shoulder away from him, the distance so nearly imperceptible that only he would notice, he’s willing to bet that he’s that something. and though he doesn’t want to admit it, he thinks he knows why. he just won’t be the first one to say something about it because he’s stubborn, a little prideful, and most of all, too afraid to explain why he’s acting this way.

even so, he just can’t help himself. he hovers near, so near that once you’re settled by the side of the road, you can feel him without actually touching him. you’re tempted to nudge him away, just because of how overprotective he’s acting. you’re also tempted to lean back into his chest because somehow you know his hands wouldn’t waste a second in gathering you up and keeping you closer than ever before. it starts to rain a little bit, soft and almost unnoticable if it weren’t for the new chill in the air. for a moment, you can feel one hand hover over your waist, just for a second before there’s a light swish of fabric when it falls back to his side. you wonder if he’s worried about you getting too cold.

you hear dean before you see him, the rumble of the impala coming into earshot moments before its headlights appear around the corner. the car slows as it nears you, pulling to the side of the road with the front windows down and some classic rock guitar riff filtering into your ears. the music’s quieter than you know it was just moments ago from when dean was alone. he greets you two with a simple, “hey,” once he’s fully stopped and you place your hand out, palm up and wordlessly asking for sam to hand you the rifle to put in the trunk.

“i got it,” he says, not waiting for you to argue when he takes the iron from the loose grip of your fist and makes his way to the trunk. you slide into the back seat behind the passengers side and return dean’s greeting.

he twists in his seat to watch you as you close your eyes and massage your shoulder with a wince. it’s beginning to become more sore, just like all the rest of your body.

“you okay?” he asks, voice full of his normal gruffness that tells you cares enough to ask but knows not to be too worried.

you open your eyes back up to give him a nod. “‘m fine. just the usual ghost beat down. y’know, bumps and bruises.”

“mm, sure do,” he agrees, “so what? dearly departed marissa thought you were janitors?” he asks skeptically. you hear the slam of the trunk, and moments later sam’s settling into his seat in front of you.

“no,” you scoff, “some idiot kid was actually cleaning down there. told ‘im to get a new job,” you snort humorlessly.

“well, i’ll say,” dean raises his eyebrows in agreement before twisting back to face the wheel. he sneaks a look between you and sam before switching the car out of park and getting back on the road. for a few minutes, all you hear is the muted music, the constant roll of the engine, the light patter of rain on the metal roof, and the road under the tires. then dean switches off the music. “anything happen back there that i should know about?” he ventures.

“no,” sam answers casually, “nothing, just the usual.” you don’t even answer. you just can’t figure out if you should involve dean, tell him how sam was unthinking and almost entirely uncaring about the innocent civilian involved, all because he was so worried about you.

“alright,” dean concedes, glancing at you through the rearview mirror and sounding entirely unconvinced. he doesn’t turn the music back on, just lets the silence reign, so you close your tired eyes and lean your head against the cold glass of the window. you’ve fallen asleep in the back of the impala countless times before, but your drowsiness doesn’t take over this time in favor of letting your mind wander over what to say to sam. you can’t just let it be, and tonight is certainly the worst it’s gotten. plus, it’s an easy habit for you to wait for sleep when you’re already so close to the motel.

when dean pulls into the parking lot, he doesn’t turn off the engine. “gonna grab some grub. i’ll be back in a bit with the usual.”

“grab me something for dessert, will ya? ‘m craving something sweet,” you request, leaning towards the driver’s seat.

“sure thing,” he nods, and you slide out of the car and close the door after a thank you and tired smile. “anything for you, sammy?” you hear him ask.

“i’m good, just the regular,” sam responds as he exits the car. you unlock the motel door, and he’s inside the room just a moment later, closing and locking the entrance behind him. you stand facing away from him at the shitty table, your jacket already strewn across the back of a chair. you can hear him behind you, going through his routine movements. he’s taking off his jacket, setting it down on the edge of the bed. then he’s pulling comfier clothes out from his pack.

“you wanna shower first?” he offers, breaking the silence of the room. you can feel his gaze on your back.

“sure,” you swallow, “thanks,” you say without any sort of edge to your voice.

“‘f course,” he says, and he means that. his eyes follow you as you pull out your own change of clothes, just a tshirt and sweats, and make your way to the dingy bathroom. you’re tired, so you’re quick with it, but the water’s already lukewarm by the time you’re done. you dry off and dress quick, eager to lay in bed.

and yet, when sam takes your place in the bathroom and the sounds of the shower start up again, you sit at the table instead, picking out a few splinters in your hands before folding your arms and resting your head against them. you stay that way, even when you hear the water turn off, the bathroom door open, his heavy footfalls that are only heavy because he’s so tall and not for lack of gentleness, then the scraping of the chair across from you. he doesn’t even say a thing, just looks at the top of your head and the tip of your nose. the shape of your hands, the point of your elbows, and the curve of your back.

with a deep breath and some pain in your neck, you lift your head. you look back at him and slump your chin into your palm.

“i’m upset with you,” you state.

he frowns. even his frown is pretty. “i know,” he sighs.

“so? why are you acting like this?” your voice is tired, but you still manage to infuse accusation into your tone, “sam, why are you suddenly acting like i can’t take care of myself out there? you’ve been weird for nearly two weeks now, and i don’t like it. i don’t like this.”

sam doesn’t know how to respond. he’s used to being yelled at, shouted at, angry at. he’s used to yelling and shouting and getting angry back. and though he’s certainly fought with you before, he’s still not used to the level tone and the way you say each word so slow, like you’re not actually arguing. just upset and rightfully a little angry, like you just want to understand.

sure, he can hear the plain anger in your voice. you’re not trying to hide it. but you’re not yelling. how’s he supposed to use the heat of the moment to shout back, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” or “i’m just trying to help,” when there is no heat in the moment? instead, he’s embarrassed and the only answer he can come up with, the only one that he can mean if he answers in that same, level tone you’re using is, one he’s having too much trouble saying aloud. any other answer would just be too wrong like that. or maybe if you were shouting, he’d tell you the truth, because he could yell it out, loud and rash without thinking about it. if he says it now, it’s not because he just let it slip. if he says it now, there’s no way to take it back, to get around everything threatening to bubble over the surface like forgotten water on a heated stove.

“i don’t think that you can’t take care of yourself. i know you can,” is all he says, because it’s true and it skirts around the real questions. his voice is rough, halfway between pleading and holding back from the anger he doesn’t yet know how to control. you heave a sigh.

“so why, sam? why?” you let the heavy question stew for a moment, then go on when he doesn’t even meet your gaze, “or, i don’t know, if you’re not gonna tell me, just promise me you’ll stop?”

he clenches his jaw because he knows he can’t. he just wishes you would shout. then, he’d tell you. he can imagine the words coming out of his mouth, but only if they’re loud, only if you’ve pressured him to do it. he realizes that’s probably fucked up. but the other way is too vulnerable, too vast of a leap to take to when he’s just not sure.

“sam,” you press, “you don’t have to worry about me, i swear. i don’t understand what’s got you like this, but it’s getting in the way of you being able to do your job right. that kid could have died because all you could do was worry about me,” that’s when you begin you raise your voice, just a little. because that’s what’s making you most upset about this. you hate it ‘cause you feel like he’s doubting your abilities as a hunter, but you hate it even more because it’s making him disregard the safety of others and of himself, for you. “sam, i only slipped. sure i got the wind knocked out of me, but you dropped your gun for that? frankly, that was stupid. and the poor kid was being choked, and if i hadn’t been lucky enough to throw the iron before she could react, he could have died. i need you to understand that. i need you to understand that i can do this job, that i’m strong enough, and that if you don’t trust me with that? people could die. and i’m not about to let that happen. so either you tell me what’s up and we figure it out, or you stop and i pay you the huge favor of just dropping the whole thing, okay?”

suddenly he looks all sad. “i do trust you,” he says, voice all sincerity and nothing more.

you close your eyes for a moment, half in frustration and half because you could really use some shut eye right about now. “that’s not– well, it is. it is part of the point. but i need an answer from you, i need you to tell me you won’t let whatever this is put somebody else in danger.”

he clenches his jaw. he’s still stuck. you still haven’t shouted.

“just spit it out. i can practically see something rolling around on the tip of your tongue. just say it, sam.”

there’s an edge to your voice, so maybe he can.

“i can’t lose you.”

there it is. it’s said with an edge, too, like he wanted to shout it but couldn’t. it’s said rough and a little bit angry and full of this undying faithfulness and yes, love.

but you still don’t quite understand it, so it makes you sigh. it makes your eyes soften a bit and it makes you a little angrier than before. it makes you want him to mean that with all his chest and it makes you want to shake him hard until he comes to his senses.

“that’s always been a danger, ever since we met. you know that,” your voice is something so oddly gentle in its frustration, “sammy, you’re my best friend, and i can’t lose you either. hell, i don’t think the words “best friend” even begin to cover the depth of how much i care about you. but we’ll both be safer if we trust each other, if we trust in both of our abilities to keep ourselves and the other safe. tell me that you understand that.”

it takes him a minute to speak again, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he searches for what to say. “two weeks ago,” is all he manages at first. you try to think back to it, and it immediately dawns on you. “i couldn’t prote–”

“sammy, no,” you interrupt, “that wasn’t your fault, okay? i know this doesn’t help to say, but we can’t always protect each other perfectly, to the extent we really want. i’d do anything for you, sammy, you know that.” after that there’s supposed to be a “but” where you explain to him that you can’t let that get in the way of your thinking straight and keeping everyone safe. instead, those last words just hang, suspended and weighty in the air.

“but you could’ve been killed,” the way he says your name is almost desperate. “it was dean that saved you. i was there and i couldn’t even help. what if next time, dean isn’t there? what if–,” his voice breaks, and he effectively cuts himself off from finishing the sentence. you know what he was trying to say.

any answer you give to that, you know isn’t enough. “but i wasn’t killed, sam. i’m here. i’m right here and i’m alive and i’m well and i don’t want to spend all my time worrying about you worrying about me. not like this.” you let that sit for a moment or two, and though his eyebrows are still all sad and pinched together, you think you’re starting to get through to him.

“but i can’t lose you,” he repeats stubbornly.

“sam,” you’re practically begging at this point, frustration creeping back into your voice, “the best way for you to keep me safe from ghosts and monsters and everything else is to take care of the problem, efficiently and effectively, like we always do. if there’s no monster, it can’t hurt me. but if you drop your weapon just because i slipped on soapy floors and lost my breath for a second? then it’s not just you and whatever innocent bystander around who’s more vulnerable now, it’s me too. so if that’s what it’s gonna take for me to convince you to stop fussing over me, then, please, think about it like that.”

sam is smart. he loves logic and reason, and you’ve handed him just that. but even more than that, he loves you. in the end, that trumps all.

“but i love you.”

he says it like a plea. like he didn’t mean to say it at all but it was the only thing running through his mind, and therefore, the only thing running off his tongue.

“sammy,” you breathe out, and then it’s like there’s no more air for you to breathe back in. that sweet nickname of his coming out of your mouth, resting on your tongue before tumbling into the air, is half like a drug to him, half like a bitter wind to sober him up quick.

“i– i only meant that i–,” he meant just that and now it’s said and now he’s never going to take it back, even if you hate him for it. “i meant that,” he says it firm and true this time, “i love you, so i can’t lose you.”

the way he looks at you, right into your eyes like they’re the prettiest things he’s ever seen, like you’re the best thing he’s ever had, oh, it has you hooked like bait has a fish who bit down too hard. it has you praying he never looks at anybody else like that again. it has you rising out of your seat and it’s pulling you across the small, wobbly table. he’s wedged into the grooves of your heart, so deep it could kill you to pull him out, so you follow the tug and he leans in too so the line isn’t so taught, so that it’s easy and comfortable and beautiful to reach his lips.

his hands are like a net that catches you up in big, lovely swaths. they travel from your own hands, that lean against the table to keep your lips pressed to his, up to your elbows and then he knows he can never get enough. so he pushes up out of his own seat, drags his hands further up your arms until they can wrap around your biceps and push you up. not for a moment does he let his lips leave yours as he stands and pulls the both of you away from the table until he can bring you close, right into his wide, warm chest. then his hands can roam, gentle over your sensitive back, up to your neck then the back of your head to push your face into his. the other hand gets to go from your waist to your hips, or dip to the small of your back and press you flush to him.

you can only get away from him for a second, just enough time to whisper, “i love you, too,” before he swallows you back up. you melt right into him, and he loves it so much, but he feels how tired you are and he remembers he is too. so he only kisses you for a minute longer before letting your head rest on his shoulder. without any reservation, he presses a long kiss to your temple and you sigh a sweet sigh into his worn out tshirt.

unwilling to let go, he waddles with you, all bundled up into his arms, to the edge of the bed. without warning, he collapses into it, taking you right down with him and pulling out a little shriek from your mouth that he finds to be nothing short of endearing. he laughs, a belly laugh that you can feel the vibrations of as it moves up into his chest and out of those pretty lips of his. with some struggle to readjust yourself, you press a sweet peck to those lips. another easy i love you.

then you collapse back into his hold and the low quality plush of the motel bed. “now promise me you’ll pull yourself together next time we get a case?” this time your ask is so much more lighthearted, sweeter because it’s mumbled into the skin of his arm. you mean it just as much, but you can’t help the fact that you feel like you’re floating, “now i really, really can’t have you getting us in trouble. i’ll need to be able to kiss you at any given moment, so you have to promise me that you’ll trust me to take care of myself. because it works, and you know it. it’s the safest way. for both of us.”

the sigh he heaves can be felt through practically your whole body. it’s heavier than you wish it’d be, but he relaxes against you just a bit more. “i know,” he relents, “i’ll do my best, okay?”

“thank you,” you breathe out, too relieved to care that he couldn’t quite promise. you know this all means he’ll just be more protective of you, but you can say the same for yourself. now that you’ve kissed him and he’s told you he loves you and you’ve said it back, right against his lips, you’ll worry about him extra. but the both of you know the best ways to keep each other alive, and that has to be enough for you. you allow yourself to snuggle closer into him before joking, “d’you think dean’s ever gonna come back?”

you feel sam’s quiet laugh more than you hear it. “yeah, he really did us a favor with that one, didn’t he?” you can hear the smile in his voice before he remembers himself, “do not tell him i said that.” having you in his arms like this has got him a little giddy, saying things aloud that he normally wouldn’t.

letting out a laugh of your own, you promise, “i won’t. but i’m starting to get hungry. maybe we should call him and tell him the coast is clear, we didn’t tear the room to shreds or anything like that.”

sam chuckles again, and you decide very quickly that you like the way it feels for him to laugh with you so close. neither of you move, not to get a phone to call dean or to stop yourselves from growing drowsy. not for anything.

you’re half asleep when you hear the familiar sound of the impala’s engine near the room. it turns off, then comes the sound of its front door being open and shut. just because you’re hungry and it spells the arrival of food, you force your eyes open and let out a groan when you wiggle your arms out of sam’s hold to stretch. the way his hands shift to your waist as you do so has you a bit flustered and you wonder if you’re supposed to pretend in front of dean that you haven’t spent the last half hour kissing and cuddling. but sam doesn’t seem to care, because he just sits up when the door’s lock clicks, one hand by your head to hold him up, the other still settled decidedly on your waist. so you decide not to care either, and turn your head around to accidentally grin at dean when he peeks his head through the door. you had meant to look casual, but the second someone else becomes a witness to the fact that you’re laying together like this, you’re beaming.

dean visibly relaxes when he takes in the sight, pushing the door all the way open to walk in, then lock the door back up behind him.

“hey, there,” is all he says, shooting the both of you a look that says, really, you’re just gonna keep sitting there like that in front of me? it’s not that bad, but he’s allowed to tease because he just turned a twenty minute food trip into an hour purely for yours and sam’s sake. you clear your throat awkwardly, and only when you sit up does sam’s hand fall away from you.

you pad over to the table as dean places the paper bag of fast food on the surface. he drags over an extra mismatched chair and sam follows close behind you, pulling the remaining chair to sit beside you. as you begin to pull food out from the bag, now clearly gone cold to the touch, dean sits down, complaining that they didn’t have pie, so he bought you two cookies for dessert instead.

“well, thank you for the food anyways,” you smile, hoping he picks up on the fact that you’re thanking him for the other thing too, “damn shame there was no pie, though,” you say, more for his sake than yours. you wonder why he didn’t just pick some up from somewhere else since he was gone so long.

“mhmm, and don’t sweat about the pie. just got a slice somewhere else,” he shrugs, “ate it in the car, there was only one slice left and i didn’t want you to feel like you were missing out,” he explains with that familiar teasing edge which makes you think he indeed caught onto the double meaning of your thanks. you let out a small huff of laughter before tearing into the food, only now realizing just how hungry you are. you’d felt it creep up on you on the car ride back, smiled at the mention of food from dean, even stupidly thought about it during a quiet moment in the argument with sam. but the second your lips found his, that was the only hunger you’d felt. to keep kissing him, to keep him close, keep him loving you. only when you settled all the way into his arms, sure that you’d be able to satiate that hunger again, could your body remember you hadn’t eaten since early this afternoon.

the three of you eating like this, late at night and without much conversation, is common and comfortable. dean is on what you assume to be his second burger, because there’s no way he’d have just sat in the car, probably parked in a random lot and wondering how long he should be gone, and just waited to eat an extra-bacon burger until he came back. sam’s nearly the same as always, too, but tonight he sits so close that his forearm brushes against yours. you bump elbows or knees every so often, and the side of his socked foot is pressed against yours the entire time.

you sigh, content with the nearness of him that’s so much more complete and full than it was just hours ago. now, there’s no need to hover. now, you can just swoop in and land, take what you want, give what the other needs.

dean makes no teasing comments, but you can feel the way he’s been examining, reading the two of you. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something aloud, but you know that he knows the two of you so well that he understands almost exactly what must’ve happened while he was gone. maybe he’s not teasing because this is the outcome he wanted to come back to. he probably knows better than the both of you how you were crushing, pining even, over the other.

he takes his turn in the shower when he finishes his food, and you and sam begin to clean up a few minutes later. once all the trash is crumbled up and tossed away, you go around and turn off all the lights but a single bedside lamp. as you turn away from clicking off the lamp in the corner of the room, sam’s right there in front of you. you don’t have the time to be startled by him sneaking up on you, he’s so quick to cup your face with his hands and slot his lips against yours. he lingers a long moment before pulling apart just enough to rest his forehead on yours.

“gonna kiss you forever,” he whispers, and you realize you’ve turned this giant man into a complete and utter sap.

“you better.” your grin is wide and real and he can almost feel your lips moving, he’s so close. just as you’re ready to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him hard, the steady white noise of the shower shuts off. you sigh and laugh a little, leaning in to steal one more chaste kiss before brushing past him. but he turns with you, hands still warm on your cheeks and not letting go until he’s kissed you once more.

when dean’s gone from the bathroom, sam follows you in to brush his teeth with you. you’ve done so plenty of times, but tonight, sam gets to loop his free arm around your waist and pull you into him, rather than stand shoulder to shoulder in the cramped space. he gets to make you giggle through toothpaste when he does so, and you get to switch your toothbrush to your other hand and wrap your own arm around his waist, too. he gets to make you laugh dangerously harder when he tightens his hold on you to prevent you from bending and spitting into the sink when you’re done. you try to hold back the laughter with your mouth full of toothpaste, then he’s the one laughing around his toothbrush because there’s white, foamy spit rolling down your chin from the corner of your mouth and threatening to drip to your dark-colored tshirt. of course, he lets you spit and rinse your mouth, relishing in the continued sound of your laughter.

“you asshole! almost ruined my shirt til the next time we make a laundry stop!” you take revenge as he rinses out his own mouth, splashing the running water onto his face as he swishes water around in his mouth.

he spits the water out in surprise and sputters an indignant, “hey!” before he bursts into laughter again.

you’re both giddy, high off of kissing each other, and silly from the exhaustion of a hunt, so he tugs you into him by your hips and keeps laughing into the crook of your neck. you wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers up through his soft, newly washed hair. you kiss the closest thing you can reach and he melts right into your arms.

it’s only when you yawn that he pulls away from you. “we should get to bed, huh?”

you nod and twist towards the door, peeking through it to see dean sleeping in his bed, his still form highlighted by the warm light of the cheap lamp. taking sam’s hand with a shy smile, you lead him to the other bed, turning off the last light and climbing under the covers with him not far behind. he loops his arm under your head, then the other over your waist to splay his hand flat across the small of your back. the way he does it is exactly the way you wished he would, as if he’s thought about holding you like this every night you share a bed, just as you had. with a final glance towards dean, he kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

you try to stifle the giggle that the soft, ticklish contact of his lips wants to pull from your chest, praying that dean is really as asleep as he looks. the both of you stiffen a bit when you hear dean’s blankets rustling, but you let out another breathy, quiet laugh when it goes silent again.

sam’s about to kiss you all over again when dean’s voice rings out into the hush of the night, startling you both.

“no shenanigans while i’m asleep, lovebirds,” he grunts.

that brings more laughter out of your lips and a rush of heat to your face that you’re sure sam feels, too. he just groans in annoyance at his brother, because of course dean had to get in at least one borderline dirty comment. neither of you really answer as dean shifts around in his bed again, likely turning his back to you and mumbling something mostly unintelligible.

the only word you can catch is “finally.”

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kteezy997 · 10 months ago

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Hi! Could you do one where it's dom Timmy, and reader is his girlfriend's best friend, but he just can't resist her and fucks her at a sleepover, his sister in the next room?

Lots and lots of dirty/degrading talk, dom timmy.

Thanks!

Tag me when you publish, please.

girlfriend's bestie// t.c.

warnings: smut, handjob, some boob play, sex while someone else is in the room, unprotected sex, cheating, dirty talk, calling reader degrading names, cursing, use of the word 'Daddy' (sorry), creampie

Of course he said it was okay if Summer's best friend came over to spend the night. Y/n was a great person, so he had no qualms about her being at his place.

Then again, he also thought she was super hot. Maybe even hotter than his own girlfriend. He did care about Summer a lot, but there was just something about y/n. Maybe it was because she was the best friend, the forbidden fruit. He fantasized about her all the time. He needed to keep it together, though, if she was going to be sleeping over.

When y/n got there, Summer suggested a movie night. Timmy was more than willing to let the girls have some time to themselves, but they insisted that he joined them.

He thought it was strange that y/n decided to sit on the other side of him, and not next to Summer. But Summer didn't say a word, and started the movie and held the popcorn bowl in her lap. He looked over, seeing y/n getting cozy on the couch next to him under a blanket.

It was quiet except for the movie for about the first twenty minutes or so. Y/n stretched a little bit, her arms raised above her head. Timmy gazed over, saw her crop top inching upwards, just under her breasts. She wasn't wearing a bra; this he knew because her nipples showed through her top.

Timmy could feel his dick starting to throb, he suppressed an achy moan, then settled further back into the couch, returning his vision to the tv screen.

"Timmy?" y/n whispered.

He looked over at her, "Yeah?"

"You look kinda cold, wanna share the blanket?" she bit her lip.

He couldn't refuse, "Yeah, sure."

She gave him the offering: half of the blanket she was using.

He took the soft material by the edge and threw it over his lower half. He could see Summer through his peripheral vision, she didn't even flinch at her boyfriend and best friend sharing a blanket, she didn't even seem to notice. She stared at the screen, munching on popcorn here and there.

Y/n waited a little bit, then nonchalantly moved closer to Timmy. She was so close, they were nearly touching. He was now closer to her than he was to his girlfriend who was sitting on the other side of him.

Timmy pretended not to notice, but he could feel the warmth from her body. His cock was getting hard. He wanted nothing more than to bend y/n over the couch and fuck her raw, but he couldn't do that, especially not with his girlfriend in the room.

He then felt her hand venturing over onto his lap under the blanket. He looked over at her with a glare in his eyes, "What are you doing?" he mouthed the words, nodding toward Summer, who was still oblivious to everything but the movie.

Y/n put her finger over her lips, silently telling him to shush. She moved her hand over to palm his semi-hard cock through his sweatpants.

Timmy did not object, but he cleared his throat, then propped his leg up, in a relaxed pose. It was perfect, Summer wouldn't see a thing passed his leg.

Y/n smirked at his actions, then took it upon herself to slip her hand into his pants. She put her hand around his cock, softly, she started to stroke it.

Timmy's eyes were on the screen, but his full attention was on the woman who had her hand secretly on his cock.

She took her hand away, only to lick it and then went back to jerking him off, nice and slow as to not make any noise. After a moment, he was fully hard and she herself was getting hot and bothered. She wanted him to touch her in some way also.

Y/n reached over with her other hand to graze her fingers along his jaw.

He looked over at her, a fucked-out look in his eyes. He smirked at her.

She then pulled her top down to expose her breasts.

His eyes widened in response. He bit his lip, praying to God that Summer wouldn't look over their way.

Y/n giggled softly and shook her tits at him.

"fuck." he muttered under his breath. He reached over, touching her boob and squeezing it.

Her fingers toyed with the precum that leaked from his cock. She rubbed the head of his cock, using his specimen as lubricant.

Timmy groped her other breast, pinching her nipple. He wanted so desperately to taste them. Her tits were so hard and pretty, and they fit in his hand so well.

Y/n then shifted onto her hip with her ass facing toward him. She reached behind and moved her short shorts out of the way to let him access her pussy under the blanket.

He put his hand under her, pulled her close and slid onto his side a bit as well.

She let out a soft breath as he entered her. She put her face into the cushion so her moans couldn't be heard.

"Yeah, fuck yourself on my cock, you whore." Timmy whispered in her ear.

She gasped, and did as he told her, backing her ass up and fucking his length. The heat between them was rising, the blanket over them only sealing in the heat.

"Babe, can you get me a glass of ice water?" Summer asked, out of nowhere.

He was startled and pulled out of y/n immediately. His heart was nearly beating out of his chest. He thought that they had been caught.

Y/n put moved away from him and pulled her top back down, acting as if nothing had happened, of course.

"Yeah, sure." Timmy answered his girlfriend. He quickly adjusted himself back into his pants. He looked over at y/n, tossing the blanket off of his lap to get up.

"I need a drink too. I'll come with you." she stood up from the couch to follow him.

"Oh yeah, help yourself to whatever you want in there, girl." Summer said to y/n, then her eyes were glued to the tv again.

.......

Once they were in the kitchen and out of sight, she was on him. She tucked her arms around him and kissed him like a mad woman.

Timmy pulled her closer, smashing his lips against hers. "I can't fucking believe we did that." he muttered softly in between kisses.

"I've always wanted you, Timothee." she cooed, grabbing his face to kiss him.

"You make me crazy, y/n." he growled, squeezing her ass through her shorts.

She let out a shrill giggle, then said, "Hurry up and fuck me." She hopped up onto the counter opened her legs, pushing her shorts to the side, exposing her glistening wet pussy.

"Oh my god." he touched the wetness between her folds.

"You got me so wet." she pulled him closer to her by his shirt, "Let me see that big cock."

Timmy instantly pushed his sweatpants down, letting his hard dick plop out. "You want it? Need to feel it inside of you again?"

Y/n gasped, "Yes, Daddy. I need it. Need that big, fat cock in me." She grinned at him, and as he got between her legs, she put her arms around his neck.

"I knew you were a slut." He pushed his cock into her wet hole, groaning at her tightness. He put his face in her neck to suppress his sounds as he started the pump his hips into her.

She grabbed his shirt into her fists and held in her moans with all of her might as he fucked her roughly. "Oh, Daddy, yes!" she whimpered.

"Yeah, I'm your daddy." he said into her ear, then her bit down on her neck, but not too hard, he couldn't leave any marks.

She hissed at the contact of his teeth on her skin.

"I'm Daddy," he grunted as he thrusted hard into her, "and you're my little whore."

"Yeah!" she cried, but she must have gotten too loud because he plopped his hand over her mouth.

"You dumb bitch, you want to get us caught."

"Mm-mm." she hummed through closed lips and his hand as she shook her head 'no.'

"Good. Now, I'm gonna come in you, but she can't find out about it."

"Okay, I'll take all of your cum, Daddy." she whispered, placing her hands on either side of the counter next to her.

Timmy grabbed either of her thighs and rammed into her fast. Y/n's legs clenched around him, he felt her pussy convulsing, coaxing the cum out of him.

.........

Timmy and y/n walked back into the living room. She carried a can of soda and he gave Summer her glass of water.

"Damn, what took you guys so long?" she asked as they both sat back down on the couch.

"Oh, I spilled soda all over the kitchen floor." y/n laughed, "Timmy had to help me clean it up."

"Yeah," Timmy chimed in, "Yeah, she made a mess."

Summer laughed also, "Only you would do that, y/n, you can be such a klutz sometimes."

After a few minutes of watching the movie again, y/n leaned into Timmy's ear, "I can feel your cum dripping out of me."

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @tchalamss @softhecreator @bitchyunknownuser @lixzey @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @mel-vaz @thatoneweirdgirl17 @iwishchalamet @jindongdongie @elloise0 @rennyd26 @briefkittenearthquake @that-one-fangirl69 @thesilliestbeanburger

#timothée chalamet #timmy chalamet #timothée imagine #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet #timothee fanfic

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klutzyroses · 11 months ago

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IkeVamp HCs: Beautiful Reader

How do they react when they meet a reader who is one of the most beautiful women they have ever seen?

Suitors: Napoleon, Arthur, Galileo, Drake

Napoleon

When the woman lost in the halls of the mansion met his gaze, he knew being the woman's protector would be the chore to end all chores.

In this day and age, women already weren't safe. Much less when they looked like they were handcrafted with love and care, the way she did.

He wasn't looking forward to it.

And he himself, though not aloud, found he was curious about the stunning stranger who'd stumbled into his life. He'd seen beautiful women before, but she was on a completely different level.

"I'm going to have my hands full with you, nunuche."

He ruffled her hair with a smirk as she merely blinked at him in confusion.

He would definitely be aware of many eyes on her, admiring, lusting, but they wouldn't get near her when she was with him.

Beautiful as she was, Napoleon knew the risks of letting her be alone for too long...but there were only so many complaints he could have when he was in the company of such a gorgeous madonna. There were worse ways to spend his time.

He's not telling her that directly though. Not in those exact words at least.

Arthur

When he first laid eyes on the maiden fair, he knew life in the mansion would be just a little sweeter.

He had no qualms about saying that to her the first time they met.

"Well now! The stars are shining just a little brighter tonight. Such a bonny lass you are."

His urge to tease her only grew when she reacted with a timid averted gaze, her lovely cheeks painted pink.

He commonly made sure to compliment at least once a day, usually referring to her as the 'Lovely Y/N'.

The author was commonly surrounded by women, but whenever she went anywhere with him, most of them kept their distance, intimidated by the ravishing lady by his side, regardless of the nature of her relationship with Arthur.

"I'm afraid that nobody holds a candle to a heart stopper like you and anybody with eyes knows it."

"Arthur!"

Teasing her just see that cute blush on her beautiful face would be enough to make his day.

Galileo

He wasn't one to generally take much notice of women, though the particular girl ambling through the halls of the university didn't escape his notice.

Galileo knew women could be pleasing to the eye, of course, but that was a fact of life, not something that actually touched him.

But she was objectively the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he found that slightly disconcerting. Almost as disconcerting as the fact that said woman was not paying attention to her surroundings and was to trip on a loose tile.

He moved quickly, catching her shoulder as she stumbled. When she turned to thank him, her beauty hit him full force from up close as he took her in.

She was a vision of loveliness, an earthly Aphrodite. Her lips parted and her cheeks reddened in embarrassment, only adding sweetness to her visage. She suddenly spoke in a soft tone.

"Erm...thank you sir...that was clumsy of me."

Her voice broke the spell as he let go of her, stepping back. If she had any effect on him, it certainly didn't show.

"Be more careful."

Was his only response before leaving.

He will find himself thinking back to that lovely face from time to time, often when the word 'beautiful' happened to cross his mind.

Drake

When he called to the lone woman passing by the Seine, intending to invite her into his boat, he didn't expect anything out of the ordinary. But when she turned around, his eyes widened as he blinked in surprise.

"Wow. You're beautiful."

Those were the first words out of his mouth, his head tilted in near confusion as the lady blushed at his forwardness.

The man was a sailor that traveled the world and seen different places and people, so he knew a beautiful woman when he saw one. And her? Breathtaking. She could make the hardest of pirates fall at her feet.

When he managed to convince her to take a ride with him, winning her over with his friendly disposition, he playfully told her that getting such a beauty into his boat was risky because alas, he may not return her, much to her amusement.

"Sir, I would appreciate being put on solid ground at some point..."

"Haha, just kidding. You're just so pretty, I want to keep you."

He said with a bright smile, but he was only half joking...

Drake would definitely want to steal her away. Pirates don't just let go of treasure.

🌸

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp galileo #ikevamp drake #ikevamp headcanons #ikemen vampire headcanons

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carlsdarling · 2 years ago

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Homewrecker

Y/N being jealous and stealing Carl away from Enid. Bit more of a plot, then sex. Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, oral, cheating

You've had a crush on Carl for a long time, almost six months to be exact, when Rick found you alone in a vacant building, took you to Alexandria and you met his son. You were immediately fascinated by Carl and felt attracted to him - by his beautiful blue eye, his swift movements, his badass attitude and the lovable character that stood in sharp contrast to it. Over and over you dreamed of seducing him, at night caressing and fingering yourself, moaning his name and burying your head in your pillow so Glenn and Maggie, who had taken you in, wouldn't notice.

You lost your virginity a while ago, and there really wouldn't have been anything wrong with just approaching Carl and checking out if he felt anything for you, too, but there was Enid. His girlfriend. You were so jealous of Enid that you could have screamed with rage whenever you saw the two of them together. When you caught them making out in the paddock, you wanted to snap Enid's neck.

At that moment, you decided that it was not possible to go on like this and that you would fight for what you so desperately wanted, Carl.

One night, when you knew Enid was on guard duty and Carl wasn't, you went to find him at his house. Rick opened the door. "Um, is Carl around?" you asked. In your hand you had a couple of comic books as an alibi.

"Yeah," Rick replied. "He's in his room."

You walked up the stairs and knocked until Carl called, "Come in." He was sitting on the bed, hastily adjusting his bandage when he caught sight of you. You didn't care about his scar, you thought he was gorgeous, sexy and charming even with it. Carl simply had a great charisma, and you were all the more envious of Enid. But now she wasn't here, and this was your chance. "Hi, Y/N," Carl greeted you in surprise.

"Hi," you said in a soft, seductive voice and approached him, letting one spaghetti strap of your white top slip off your shoulder as accidentally.

Carl blushed slightly. "What... what are you doing here?" he asked uncertainly as you sat down close to him so he could smell your perfume and feel your body heat.

"I was feeling lonely," you purred, making big bedroom eyes. "And I thought maybe you could help me." You licked your lips lasciviously.

"Help? With what?" Carl was obviously a bit dumbfounded in this regard, so you gently grasped his chin, turned his head toward you, and kissed him on the lips. They felt soft and a little rough at the same time.

Carl took a startled breath. "What are you going to do?" He seemed embarrassed, but at least he didn't push you away right now. That gave you encouragement.

"I like you, Carl," you confessed, "I like you a lot, actually, and I want to show you."

"But I'm with Enid," he protested demurely. His expression was difficult to interpret.

"And has Enid ever suck you off?"

He turned bright red and shook his head.

"There you go," you would breathe a series of kisses on his neck, making him groan softly. You'd show him you were better than Enid. "I want to do this for you. That and more. You'll like it, I promise. I want to feel you, Carl. I need you. I need you badly, every night I think about you." Again you kissed him, and this time he returned the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth before hesitantly pulling away from you again.

He obviously had qualms about cheating on Enid, but Carl also couldn't deny that he was already aroused; he was building a visible tent in his jeans, and his breathing was rapid and frantic as his cheeks reddened. He was so cute. "It... it has to stay between you and me, though," he murmured. "You must not tell Enid about this."

"You have my word of honor," you promised, and immediately you were starting to make out and caress each other, until finally your hands slid under Carl's shirt and you stroked his back demanding. He smelled nice, clean and a little bit of fresh sweat.

He slipped the shirt off and tossed it to the floor, and for the first time you saw his lean, lightly muscled torso, the fair skin, the small tufts of underarm hair, and the strip of soft dark hair that ran from his belly button down and disappeared into his boxers. The sight nearly drove you crazy; so you grabbed Carl by the shoulders and made him lie on his back, then undid his belt and also undid the buttons of his jeans to pull them down to his knees. Carl let it happen, his eyes half-closed, and there was a damp stain at his light grey boxers. His cock was at full erection and was clearly visible under the fabric.

You scattered wet kisses around his belly button until Carl began to moan softly, then you grabbed the edges of his boxers and pulled them down as well. His erection really sprang out, his tip glistened with moisture, and your eyes grew wide: Carl was definitely on the bigger side. His pubic hair was dark and slightly curly.

"Wait," he said hoarsely, sitting up and stripping off his jeans and boxers. Carl was now completely naked, whereas you were still clothed. "I want to see you naked too, Y/N," he sighed, fumbling with your top and bra. Without further ado, you took both off, exposing your breasts.

Carl looked at them ravishedly. "God, you're beautiful," he whispered and began to fondle them, making your nipples hard.

"Lick them, please, Carl," you begged, and he gently began to kiss your right nipple, encircling it with his tongue and sucking on it. You cried out in pleasure and were now finally ready for him, wet as sin, but wanted to give him head first.

Tenderly you kissed his length and then took his cock in your mouth. He didn't quite fit, but Carl moaned heavily and curled his fingers in the pillow, lifting his hips as you sucked gently, letting go of him briefly every now and then to kiss the insides of his thighs and his belly. "Please, keep on sucking," he murmured, stroking your head and supporting your movements with his hand until you suddenly let go of him. His cock was wet with your saliva, veins protruding.

Carl was already in a state of complete euphoria, writhing on the bed whimpering softly and begging you to continue. You took off your shorts and panties. "No, I want you to fuck me now, Carl," you whispered in his ear, leaning over him. He grinded his cock against your belly.

"I've never done this before," he confessed, embarrassed.

"Well, I have," you replied plainly. You were only a year older than him, but unlike him, you had already had some experience. "Do you have any condoms?" He nodded over to his nightstand, and you pulled an as-yet-unopened pack out of the drawer. Jealousy flashed through your mind, because surely Carl had made these preparations for his first time with Enid. Well, screw Enid, you thought. Carl took one of the condoms, tore open the wrapper, and placed it precariously on his cock. "Oh, let me do it," you said impatiently, pushing his hand away and putting the condom on him yourself.

He awkwardly tried to lie on top of you, but you beckoned him to stay on his back. "I want to ride you," you said breathless with desire before guiding his cock to your willing pussy. "Be careful at the beginning," you whispered into Carl's ear. "Very gently."

Inches by inches he penetrated you, his whole body tense with excitement. It was wonderful to finally feel him inside of you. Instinctively, he began to make soft thrusts, and you moved your hips synchronously with him. You immediately found a rhythm together, and both of your moans and sighs filled the room. "It's so good," Carl moaned. "You're so tight and hot." His thrusts were getting faster and faster, and he was going into ecstasy, forgetting everything around him. "Y/N, I'm... I'm cumming, I'm..."

"Me too," you said, leaning forward so he could pull you close as he now reared up and shot his load into the condom, moaning heavily. A loud scream escaped you as you also climaxed. You looked lovingly into each other's eyes and shared a long kiss before you dismounted from him.

Carl removed the condom, knotted it, and wrapped it in a Kleenex before dropping it beside the bed, then hugging you tightly. "That was wonderful," he murmured exhaustedly, pressing little kisses to your lips.

"Yes," you replied, "I have patrol in a minute. I have to go," you said regretfully a moment later.

"I don't want you to go," Carl pouted.

You gave him a kiss on the forehead and got ready to leave. "I have to though," you said, gathering up your clothes.

"Um, Y/N..." said Carl shyly. "Can we maybe do this again?"

You jammed your hands into your sides. "Depends," you informed him. "If you pick me and dump Enid, we can do it every day," you offered with a seductive glance in your siren eyes.

The next night, just as you were about to go to bed, Glenn called you to come downstairs. "You got a guest," he said, perplexed. "Carl's out on the veranda."

Carl looked toward you with a smile on his lips as you closed the door behind you. "I just broke up with Enid," he said, embracing you and immediately kissing you passionately. "I want to be with you."

You won.

#carl grimes smut #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl x enid #twd #the walking dead #enid #carl grimes imagines #carl fanfiction

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sleepiexx · 1 year ago

Text

Right Under Her Nose

Valeria Garza x fem!Reader + Platonic!John “Soap” Mactavish x fem!Reader

Note: This has been a wip for mooonths dude

Summary: Valeria had expected that her girlfriend just wanted space, albeit not so fond of the idea that she couldn’t respond to a simple text, she’d grant her wish and leave her alone. Oh how wrong she turned out to be.

Warnings: Lots of talk about blood, death, and some gore, kind of graphic but not super detailed, Valeria and Reader fight, and the first half is Valeria-less

Word Count: 3859

The only sound resounding in the near empty room was the dripping of blood, a sick echo of the liquid dripping onto concrete. (Y/N) was so out of it that she had originally assumed there was a leak in the ceiling, but she was wrong. She only realized it was the sound of her own blood when she saw the pool of the red liquid under her rippling in tune with the dripping noise.

She knew she was hurt, of course— how could she forget the rigorous hours of torture she had been subject to? But she didn’t know that a person could bleed this much and survive, it reflected in her physical state heavily. Everything hurt, even thinking.

How did she even end up here?

She led a normal life. She lived off of tips and the wage she earned by waiting tables at a cushy place downtown. After long nights and rush hours, she would return home to her apartment and plants. Along the way, she met a woman who she loved with her entire heart and was lucky enough to call her girlfriend. (Y/N) (L/N) lived as normal as life could get and yet somehow, someway, one of those life choices led to her capture and torture by members of the cartel.

“I don’t know anything!” She’d sobbed for hours as they dismantled her physical and psychological being without relent. Drawn out beatings, cuts, slashes, all blended together in her mind as one heaping pile of pain.

One name stuck out. The one that they had asked her about her connection to over and over again: El Sin Nombre.

She had no clue who El Sin Nombre was. She guessed they were some rival to the men who had been torturing her, but she knew nothing more than that and she certainly didn’t know how she fit into the equation.

She didn’t run with any cartels, or do drugs— hard ones anyway, she couldn’t imagine her marijuana use had anything to do with this. She knew for a fact that her plug didn’t dabble in selling or consuming harder drugs either, so it couldn’t have been him. Besides, who gets tortured for enjoying a blunt every once in a while? She was innocent, why couldn’t they see that?

The door pounded, wood splintering and cracking from the pressure. That wasn’t good. The cartel had been angry throughout her interrogation, that much had been clear with the way they had treated her, yet now they were unable to even keep their cool. What happened? Was she no longer “useful” to them? Had they decided she was better off dead? What made it so urgent that they couldn’t use the key and had to knock the door down?

The door finally caved under the pressure. The big group of men that (Y/N) had been expecting turned out to be just one man. One man with a gun.

Panic shot through her veins, a newfound energy along with it. She thrashed around in her chair, desperate to get away from him, yet the restraints didn’t budge.

He stomped towards her, a blank face as he held the gun in a position that suggested he was ready to lift and shoot at the drop of a hat.

She would do anything to survive, grasping at straws for a chance at life, “Hey- hey, wait wait wait- I thought- you need me, you need the information I have.” She didn’t have any information, she knew that, and it seemed so did he.

“Your information is not important.” He huffed, a deep glare etched into his eyes, “Something’s come up, I have to tie up the loose ends.”

His gun raised, aiming straight for her forehead. Tears fell from her eyes, with nothing to lose now she had no qualms crying to her heart’s content. All shame she felt dissipated as she sobbed and begged— begged for her life.

“Please- Please, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did please, please don’t kill me.”

Her throat felt raw as her sobs bordered on screams. She saw his finger wrap around the trigger and she closed her eyes as she heard a loud bang, waiting to feel the pain and then nothing at all.

But it never came.

She felt a spray of hot liquid splashing on her face, which she suspected was her own blood, but confusion consumed her as she still felt very much alive.

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. The man who nearly killed her was on the ground, resting in a puddle of his own blood.

“What the fuck?” She whispered, eyes wide. She looked up, met with the sight of a man. He wore a uniform, army, and he had stubble and a Mohawk. He looked like any average soldier and yet after hours of unrelenting torture, you could never be too cautious.

She struggled against her restraints once more but it only proved to be a harder task now that her adrenaline levels were fading and exhaustion was taking over.

“Hey, Hey!” He called out to her, trying to calm her down, “it’s okay, love, it’s over. I’m gonna get you out of here.”

She calmed at the thought, staring at him with hopeful eyes. “Please.” She begged. At this point, she didn’t even know what she was begging for.

He stepped forward carefully, “I’m Soap, I’m going to try and untie your restraints. Is tha’ okay?”

She didn’t like how he treated her like a scared animal but she appreciated him narrating everything he was doing. It made things predictable, less scary that way. She nodded.

Despite getting the go ahead, he continued at a slow pace, in fear of startling her or triggering something. With the state of her blood-stained body, he could only imagine the horrors she had went through in however long she had been there.

She felt nervous as he had to stand behind her to untie her wrists. Out of her line of vision, he was unpredictable. But as a seasoned soldier, he knew that, knew exactly how she was feeling, and he would do anything in his power to alleviate some of the pain.

“The ropes aren’t budging, I’m going to use a knife to cut them off, so I need you to stay real still, okay?”

She nodded.

He sawed the ropes until they fell off with a wet plop onto the soaked floor. She pulled her hands forward, shoulders aching from having been kept in that position for so long. She stared down at the red lines that followed her wrists where the ropes had been. She had struggled so much that she rubbed her wrists raw and bloody.

He walked around to the front of the chair, where he squatted down and did the same to the restraints on her ankles.

Completely unrestrained, she got slightly overzealous and attempted to stand. Her legs were weak, though, having only stood few times in the past however long when the cartel felt gracious enough to let her go to the bathroom. She nearly instantly collapsed and likely would have fallen right on top of the dead man had the soldier not been there to catch her.

“Hey, easy, easy. Don’ think you should be walkin’ on your own just yet.” He looked down at her, trying to help her stand on her own but it was proving impossible in her state, “alright, I’m going to pick you up.”

One of his hands snaked down from where they were on her sides to the pit of her knees, picking her up in a bridal carry. She groaned at the movement, open wounds aching and sending shooting pains throughout her body.

“Steamin’ Jesus, what did they do to you?” He wondered aloud, concerned at the whines and pained moans leaving her mouth.

She didn’t respond, too emotionally and physically exhausted to have a deep conversation. As he carried her throughout the compound, her eyes began to shut, almost succumbing to darkness. Soap instantly took notice.

“Hey, you can’t go dying on me now, love. Gotta stay awake. Talk to me.” He hoped she would start rambling so he could gauge the state she was in without having to take his focus off of the compound in front of him, but she just blinked at him. It was a hard task to ask of a girl who had just been through hell. But Soap was witty, and he had no problem finding another way for her to talk, “What’s your name, hen?”

“(Y/N),” it came out like a whisper, but before this she hadn’t talked to him at all so it was progress.

“(Y/N)? I like it. What’s your favorite color, (Y/N)?”

“Blue,” she murmured.

He smiled, “nice color, I like green.”

“Green? Is your full name Irish Spring?” Her voice was weak, and wavering, so it was hard to get across a tone to match the joke she had made.

He shook his head, not understanding that she was joking, “I’m Scottish actually.”

“Irish Spring, like the green soap.”

He looked down at her and smirked, “I did not think you were capable of makin’ quips like that.”

She looked away, feeling some of the effects of the blood loss hitting her. Loopy-ness being the main one, she found herself unable to control her words, “What kind of name is Soap anyway?”

“It’s not a name.” He said, kicking down a door that stood in their way. Quickly checking if the coast was clear before finishing his statement, “It’s a callsign. My real name is John.”

“John,” she mumbled, “that doesn’t really suit you.”

“You can call me Johnny if ya like-“

Just as Soap thought he was making progress, keeping the hostage’s thoughts on other things, he was met with the sound of more cartel.

“Fuck.” He muttered, mind racing through all of his options.

(Y/N) could tell they were coming, her eyes were wide and her heart rate picked up. Fear consumed her once more. Especially as the soldier set her down on the ground.

“I’m going to deal with this, you stay right here.” He explained, not giving her room to speak as he b lined it out of the door, towards the gaggle of cartel members.

All she heard were gunshots, gunshots and screaming. She made an attempt at self soothing by rocking back and forth but it didn’t help that she was wounded to shit, making her movements jagged and painful.

What if Johnny died out there? What if her only hope at escape from this awful place was shot and killed defending her?

She didn’t know if there were more soldiers, or if it was just him, all she knew was that she needed him, desperately.

God, how she wanted to peek so bad, especially when the room went silent. But she knew she couldn’t disobey the soldier. Not when it was his judgement that had gotten them this far.

Like an answered prayer, he appeared right in the doorway.

“Hey, hen.” He smiled at her, trying to cheer her up, but it faltered when he saw just how harshly she had reverted to the nervous state he had found her in.

He walked up towards her, picking her up once more. “I’ve gotcha,” he coo’d, hoping to calm her down slightly. He knew he had to get her out of there, fast, so he sped up his pace.

It went like that for a while, until they finally made it to the evac point.

Soap could see the confusion portrayed by each of his team members as he carried the wounded woman towards them. She was covered in blood and limp, to the team she looked like a corpse, yet Soap could see her eyes staring at any and everything, they still had life behind them.

The masked man spoke first, “what’s this?” His critical eyes analyzing her.

Soap could tell that his teammate’s imposing presence scared the girl, so he nodded him off to the side, “This, Ghost, is (Y/N), the cartel was holding her hostage.”

Shortly after, he turned to (Y/N), not wanting to talk about her with them right in front of her, “this is my team, Ghost, Gaz, and Captain Price.”

The man he had referred to as Captain Price stood at attention as their evac helicopter came inbound. “Plenty of time for introductions on the chopper, Soap.”

He nodded and hopped in the second the aircraft landed. In the short time it took to load everyone in, he called out to the crew who had already been in the chopper, “can I get a medic?” He yelled, gesturing towards the blood coated woman.

Thankfully, of the small crew they’d taken with them, a medic was amongst their ranks. They took to the girl, packing her bigger wounds with gauze as she groaned in pain.

“Oh, fuck!” She called out, face twisting into a grimace.

“What did the cartel want from you?” Price prodded.

Soap went to get onto him for questioning her as she writhed in pain, but Gaz beat him to it, “Jesus, Captain, the poor thing’s gettin’ treated for extensive wounds and now is when you want to question her?”

The men stared at each other, but (Y/N) relented. “I- I don’t know. They kept bringing up some guy in a rival cartel but I don’t- I don’t know anything about it.”

A loud whine left her lips as a particularly deep gash was treated. She couldn’t stop the tear that fell down her cheek from the pain.

Soap frowned, trying to stay positive, “we’re gonna get you home, alright hen?”

And she nodded, reluctant but hopeful.

The rest of the ride was a blur, at some point she passed out, she only woke up days later in a bright hospital room. To her surprise, the Scottish soldier was by her side.

“Johnny?” She mumbled, voice raw and cracking from a lack of use.

His head shot up, staring at the girl who had been asleep for nearly four days. “(Y/N), hey! How are you feeling?”

She groaned, body sore, “like I’ve been hit by a bus.”

He chuckled slightly, “yeah, you look it too. But the doc says you’ll be back to your old self in no time, whatever that is.”

“So nothing too serious?” She asked.

His lips flattened, not liking the way her words discredited what she went through. “You took quite the beating, hen. Nothing deadly or physically altering, but you broke a few ribs, got a couple of deep gashes, and you suffered so much blood loss they had to drug you up until you were fixed.”

She sighed, taking in his words, “fuck, man.”

“But the doctor only let up on the drugs now because everything’s sorted, as long as you follow the doctors orders and get one last physical, you’re good to go home until the next checkup.”

Her expression didn’t change at the good news, “I- I don’t even know where I am. Or how to get home.”

Soap grabbed her hand, “Don’t worry about that, I’ll get you where you need to be.”

She gulped anxiously, but nodded nonetheless.

By the end of the day, Johnny fulfilled his promise. She was discharged from the hospital and he himself drove her back home. He even went as far as to walk her into her house and give her his number, should she ever need him.

She stared at the ground, never good at goodbye’s but still wanting to say her thanks, “Thank you, for everything.”

He pulled her into a hug, “No need to thank me, hen, you get some rest.” And just like that he was out the door.

Unbeknownst to the two, their goodbye had been watched.

Mere minutes after Soaps departure, frantic knocking sounded at (Y/N)’s door. Recent trauma still fresh on her mind, she panicked. A million possibilities flashed through her head, all ending with the cartel knocking down her door and taking her away once more.

That idea was shattered as (Y/N) heard her girlfriend yelling behind the door, “I know you’re home, (Y/N)!”

She hesitantly stepped towards the door, unlocking and cracking it open before Valeria pushed her way into the apartment with anger written all over her face.

Valeria slammed the front door shut, fuming words spewing out of her mouth before (Y/N) could even form a sentence, “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you like crazy for two weeks and you’ve just been gone. No voicemail, no text, not even a note.”

“Val I-“

“How could you just disappear like that? I care about you (Y/N), it really fucking hurts when you can’t seem to tell me you’re going somewhere.”

(Y/N) knew she was pissed. Valeria never talked about her emotions, ever, and here she was baring her wounds to (Y/N). Sure she was regularly angry, but (Y/N) knew her better. She knew that this was worse than any superficial fight they had ever had.

“Valeria-“

“And who was that man you were with, huh? Are you doing something behind my back?”

To (Y/N), this meant cheating, but to Valeria who had met Soap before, she had feared a full betrayal. She only fell short in her words as tears fell from her girlfriend’s eyes.

“No! No, I wouldn’t do that!” (Y/N) sobbed, “I was kidnapped, I barely made it out alive. He saved me!”

“Kidnapped?” Valeria whispered to herself, but (Y/N) heard it.

“I know, I know it sounds crazy- fuck, I feel crazy,” (Y/N) cut herself off, breathing out the last part, “but yeah, I was taken by the cartel because- because they thought I had ties to their rivals but I don’t, Valeria, I swear I don’t.”

Valeria’s face shifted to an expression (Y/N) couldn’t read. Some mix of pity, sadness, and almost… guilt?

She placed her hands on either of (Y/N)’s shoulders, “(Y/N), baby, do you remember who they were asking you about specifically?”

(Y/N) sniffled, “I don’t know, it was something like El Sin Hombre— no, Nombre? I don’t know, one of those. Why?”

Valeria’s face darkened. Her eyebrows knit together and the guilty look deepened. Her glare burnt a hole into the floor.

“You do have a connection to El Sin Nombre.” She muttered.

There was a beat of silence before (Y/N) spoke.

“What?” (Y/N) asked, confusion evident, only making her more distraught.

Valeria’s eyes slowly lifted to meet her girlfriend‘s, “(Y/N), I am El Sin Nombre.”

“No.” (Y/N) mumbled, ever so slightly raising her voice, “No, you can’t be.”

She tried to squirm away from Valeria, but the grip on her shoulders was too tight. Eventually she gave up trying to get away and allowed herself to collapse into her lover’s hold, sobbing into the crook of her neck.

“Please, no.” She cried, “it hurt, Valeria, it hurt. Please god no.”

Valeria pet her hair, tears quietly streaming down her face. The sound of her lover’s pain rang out like rusted church bells, raw screaming echoing off the living room walls.

Knowing that all this was her fault— that all of (Y/N)’s pain was caused by her— it hurt more than any bullet or shrapnel that Valeria had ever felt buried beneath her skin.

“They hurt me so bad. Please, Valeria.” And, god, (Y/N) had no clue what she was begging for but all she could do in this moment was plead— for respite, for love, for an end to her pain. She was reduced to this residual ache, physically, mentally, everything hurt. She hadn’t prayed in years and yet now she found herself yearning for divine intervention.

She choked on her words, yet Valeria heard her loud and clear.

The statement made Valeria shake not only in sorrow, but in a cacophony of despair and rage.

“I’ll kill them.” Valeria’s voice carried a malevolent undertone, laced with venom and spite.

(Y/N) stilled, her eyes trailing to slightly meet Valeria’s despite the way the rest of her face was hidden behind Valeria’s shirt, “What?”

Valeria pulled her from her chest, cupping her hands around (Y/N)‘s cheeks. It was in this moment that she finally saw how bruised and swollen (Y/N)’s face was, the full extent at which those men had hurt her. A rage bubbled beneath Valeria’s skin. “I will kill each and every one of them, (Y/N).”

And it wasn’t perfect. Everything still hurt. (Y/N) still felt like she was splayed out on the floor with her guts ripped open. And yet, it was enough. The promise of healing— of fixing things, however violently things needed to be fixed. And so they sat like that, Valeria holding her lover as she sobbed, for the rest of the night, and many nights after that, as long as it took to heal.

Months later, Soap was working late at the base, filling out paperwork from a recent mission. It was likely he was the only one working this late in this part of the building. That’s why it surprised him to hear a voice from behind him.

“Working hard, soldier?”

He knew the voice, but he thought he had imagined it. He was shocked as he turned around and confirmed his suspicions. She was leaning on the desk behind him, arms crossed.

“Valeria,” he looked the woman up and down, scanning her for weapons, “Why are you here?”

She sat up from the table, uncrossing her arms, “I came to thank you.”

“Thank me? For what? I got you arrested.”

She raised an eyebrow, staring into his soul, “I know that. I’m talking about something different.”

His brows furrowed, “go on.”

“A few months ago you saved a woman who was being tortured for information.”

“(Y/N),” he confirmed.

She nodded, “(Y/N) is my girlfriend.”

His jaw nearly dropped at the statement. “She told me she didn’t have any connection to the cartel,” he frowned, slight betrayal ebbing at him.

Valeria shook her head, guilt coming back as she remembered (Y/N) sobbing the same thing to her, “She didn’t know, I hadn’t told her.”

That made him feel better, but he was still confused, “I still don’t understand why you’re here.”

Valeria’s tough attitude seemed to falter, “I just- Thank you. Thank you for saving her. I didn’t even know she was taken, I fear for what would have happened had she been there any longer.”

He nodded, “She’s a good person, never hurt her.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” And with that, Valeria walked right out of the military base— presumably the way she came in. Soap knew he should follow her, should track her down and capture her so she could be arrested. But when he thought back to (Y/N), he knew he could never do that to the poor girl. So he let her go.

#call of duty fanfic #valeria garza x reader #valeria garza x fem!reader #valeria x reader #valeria garza #valeria cod #valeria garza cod #call of duty valeria #valeria x fem!reader #call of duty x reader #platonic! soap x reader #platonic!141 x reader

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the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf · 1 year ago

Text

You're waiting for a train... (8)

A Son's First Hero; A Daughter's First Love

Robert Fischer x reader

description - Y/n's conversation with Robert is filled with more reality than should be in their dream.

word count - 3k

warnings - self-harm, physical violence (fake), tears, shitty parents, Robert Fischer's trauma.

a/n - so sorry this part is so late but I wanted it to be perfect so I've been working on it lot's and now I'm really happy with it!

Previous Part Series Master list Master list

If you want to be added to the taglist - here

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I furiously wiped away the unforgiving tears. Fearing my weakness would be obvious to those around me. I had to pull myself together and set out on the task at hand. Dad said Fischer would remember me but, in your dreams…well…anything’s possible.

“Eames. I need some help.” I pulled myself up onto the table where he was busy working. He looked up at my cheeky face, already excited for whatever idea spilled out of my mouth.

“Is that so?”

“I want to show my dad that I can do this.” I spoke.

“You know you don’t have to.” His voice gave away a sympathetic lilt. But my sincerity lingering in my eyes made him abandon his qualms about my well-being. Instead, he braced himself for the details of my plan.

“We both know that he may be the one dreaming, but we control the visual.” He smirked, sensing my direction. “Yes, he saw my face. But maybe, for this moment, we could just…alter it?”

“Ah, come with me my young Picasso.” He led me to a three paned mirror he’d set up on a rickety desk which would give way at the slightest touch. He firmly pressed my shoulders down into the even flimsier desk chair. “Let me teach you the art of disguise.”

“So, he won’t recognise me at all?” I managed to whisper out. And grasped the hand heading for my face.

Eames smiled down at me and squeezed my hand in a gesture designed to evoke a feeling of security. “We’re not changing your whole face, just mushing it up.” He spoke. “It’s like when you see a face in a dream; you know it’s a face, but you can’t quite make out the features.”

“Like a silhouette.” I softly agreed. My mind flitted back to the man from my own dream. How his indiscernible features had subtly begun to meld, and I already felt their final product. His eyes were now as familiar to me as ever.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

*Eames pov*

I’d offered Y/n time to psych herself up for her next role in this so-called game. She couldn’t ever throw herself in, she required prep and time to create her character which would be placed into the subjects story. But as I walked away, I chanced a glance at her form which had simply walked into the room, no character necessary.

But I needn’t dwell on it for too long; I trusted Y/n. Speaking of which my firm walk was directed towards a certain leader who I needed a few words with.

Cobb and Ariadne stood locked in thought. Cobb fiddled with an object out of sight, but his hunched shoulders betrayed his nerves. If he had been stood to my liking, he would have been destroyed in the corner sobbing his little heart out. I approached from behind, a droll cough announcing my presence and more importantly, my desire to talk.

“May we have a moment, my darling.” I shot a smile Ariadne’s way. She responded to the over-enthused expression by retreating quickly. Cobb did not meet my gaze which had tracked on to him. He grasped his object even tighter with each new hand placement. He clearly already knew the topic and could feel my reaction.

“You have some nerve.” I spat.

“She nearly put this whole mission in je—” He defended with a surprising amount of conviction.

“No don’t give me that!” I fumed at his official attitude. Scoffing at his apparent corporate nature. “She made a mistake. We’ve all made them.” I tilted my head towards him in an unspoken statement. “But for some reason she is held to a higher standard than us all.”

His mouth opened in silent argument, but his false words would give away no sound. I went to turn, feeling my anger was misplaced due to the severity of this mission. For Cobb and Y/n. But I just couldn’t. I came back and leaned in further so I could attempt to meet him face to face.

“It’s all well and good you accusing her of being a child, but don’t you forget that she entered into our world a child.” My voice kept its hushed tones, but the severity seeped through it. “Whether it was her choice or not, you still let her do it.” My finger was shoved into his face, and he minutely flinched at this. I calmed myself, feeling relieved at releasing that before we continued on this mission. My head hung low when even I felt the sincerity of my words. I loved Y/n like she was my own sister, but I couldn’t deny how sick I felt when she was here with us. And now with this new revelation, I feared that Cobb, Arthur, and my self’s efforts at protection would not be enough.

I now leaned against the table, complimenting Cobb who had ignored his object in favour of supporting his hunched frame on the desk. I broke the tense silence between us.

“Do you know why she liked talking to Fischer and didn’t immediately run off.”

“Please enlighten me to the inner thoughts of my daughter.” Cobb huffed out in severe annoyance.

I took a beat, almost relishing in his cocky attitude.

“Because for once she wasn’t in the shadows anymore.” I stormed off away from the man in shameful realisation.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

*your pov*

I had placed myself centrally in the door frame, staring unforgivingly at the locked steel door. Breathing was tricky in my emotional state but the little gasps every so often at least confirmed the living state of my body. I’d altered my clothes to seem more faded and dishevelled. Cuts and bruises adorned my body, but I had forgone the use of the dreams mechanics to create that specific look on my skin. My nails still had specs of my blood underneath from where I’d dragged them down my smooth skin. Feeling pain on my unblemished skin in this fake reality spurred on my adrenaline. The lack of numbness would work in my favour. There was something about squeezing into my flesh until it speckled with purple and blue which tricked my mind into believing this reality. Then maybe I could believe what was about to happen.

Footsteps clacked up to my frame, and I turned to see Arthur, adorned like a true criminal. Gun cocked, mask prepped. I couldn’t help but bite my lip seeing his body constrained in that that dusky brown leather. My mind was flipped back to our first solo mission and the memory of embracing him and feeling that jacket beneath my fingertips. He had delivered a swift kiss to my hairline but had left in another second hoping it would slip my mind.

His hand reached to clasp my forearm, but he faltered. His eyes instead met the side of my head and eventually his lack of movement confused me so I turned to see what was the issue. His face spoke a thousand words yet his lips delivered none of them. He eventually decided upon a few.

“You don’t have to do this.” I understood the hidden end of his sentence. We both knew it was more than the simple task at hand.

“I know. But I do.” I assured him with a little smile. Hoping it would convey enough normalcy to calm his nerves. He once again took my arm and I slightly winced at the contact. His steely gaze landed on our point of contact and look of regret spilled over his features as his thumb lightly traced my skin. His hand landed on the look but before he could turn it another though bubbled up.

“Are you okay?” He looked up at me piercing through his gaze.

“Yes.” I firmly said with a softer edge. “Do you trust me?” I teased but there was a slant of sincerity within it.

“Forever.” He stated and he punctuated the end by ripping open the door, mask on, and dragging me inside.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

“Thought we’d bring you a little treat.” Arthur grunted out through his fake voice. I stumbled alongside upping the part of the damsel. The act was tied up through a calculated throw to the ground and a well-timed yelp from me. As soon as my body crashed with the floor, Robert scrambled towards me and lifted me up. We found ourselves in a position we’d been in many times before. As he took my hands to gently place me in a more comfortable position, I finally let my eyes flit up to his. But once our gazes locked a flicker of familiarity danced across his features.

My heart dropped.

The flicker burned out.

“Miss, are you okay?” He looked over my body. Took in my tattered clothes, my physical anxiety. As he landed on my various cuts and bruises, his expression darkened. It confused me to see him as he brushed his fingers over my injuries. As if willing them away with a darkened anger bubbling up. His conclusion of who I was settled on his soul.

“Yes, I’m fine.” I stuttered out. “Well, as fine as I can be.” Laying it on thick. I added a few extra shakes to the mix but he mistook this for me being cold. He quickly ripped off his jacket and softly wrapped me in it. The gesture floored me where I forgot my character as I sunk into the fabric and let my head fall to my shoulder to breathe in the unique scent.

“Why have they taken you?” Okay good, he has already assumed I’m a fellow victim.

“They’ve had me for months.” I whispered out as if trying to evade my captors wrath. “I was taken because of my father’s debt.” His face fell at the mention of my father, sensing a shared trauma between the two.

“Turns out I’m not even worth ransom.” I spluttered out a laugh amongst my crocodile tears. Seeing this he brought up his hand to wipe them away, not bearing to see me in pain.

“They could’ve killed me. They probably should’ve.” I said. “I guess they just like something pretty to look at.” My head hung. “That’s all I am; to my colleagues, to men,” My breath caught in my throat. “and to my father.” The lump in my throat dropped and I managed to muster up a sympathetic sob. Upon hearing this he carefully gathered me in his arms. Instead of waiting for permission or fearing consequences; he sensed what I needed and had relished in giving me it. I let off a few minutes to fulfil my tears and let them drip onto his shirt. But as I lay in his arms I could no longer differentiate anymore and struggled to decide whether I was lying or not.

I pulled away when I felt dried out. I giggled at the wet patch that had formed on his chest.

“I am very sorry.” I continued laughing, pointing at his shirt. He laughed once he looked down and noticed. “I dread to think how much it cost.”

“It was sacrificed for a worthy cause.” He cupped my cheek and felt the dried up tear tracks.

“It’s nice to talk to someone for once.” I spoke.

“Really?” His face fell upon hearing this.

“Yeah, even before this I didn’t really have anyone.” I shook my head to wipe away his sympathy. “I worked for my dad, but I never really felt taken seriously. Like I was a part of it. Rather just a moveable doll to be used for whatever.” I giggled out at the almost lie I had forced myself to tell.

Robert chanced a look when I had let my eyes fall to the floor. His brow furrowed at the strain of taking in my various features which were so blurry. But it was something about my voice that struck a deeply hidden part of his mind. My dulcet tones had seemed to pierce our intricate layers.

“I feel like I know you.” My heart struck cold. And the most base bodily movement ceased. “You’ve been in my mind a lot recently.” I turned to face him. My lip trembled at the possible subtext of the words he was speaking. We seemed to be locked together for an eternity, neither feeling comfortable in pulling away.

“Anyways,” I brushed off his previous thoughts by trapping him with my dozy smile. Each time I smiled he became transfixed, and it was addicting. “Apparently you’re an old hand at the father stuff.”

He nodded his head through a teeth gritting smile.

“They talk a lot when they think I’m asleep.” I feebly gestured to the locked steel door. And I turned back to see the life had left his bones once he’d considered what I’d said.

“Well, his ability at business could not be faulted. Absolute inspiration and a hard-working and powerful individual. But in the father department, there was a lot to be desired.” He shifted his position so we were now turned to face one another, with our knees gently kissing.

“Growing up, seeing my dad like that was transcendent.” He laughed thinking back fondly. “He was a god.” His head fell. “but I didn’t want a god. I wanted my daddy.” His voice took on the note of child as if that desire had halted the ageing of his heart.

My fingers creeped toward him, betraying any logical strategy in my head, and I linked them together in a silent show of comfort. His eyes crinkled when our hands met and he spoke his thanks through a gentle squeeze.

“You know.” The words fell past my lips before I could stop. “Sometimes, I think my dad is afraid of how much I love him.” I waited until he looked at my face before continuing. “But I don’t know how to do anything else, because it’s all I’ve done for the past 5 years.” I smiled through the pain at how foolish I could be.

“If he truly doesn’t want me in my life.” I searched around the room to find the end of my comment. “Then I don’t know how to live like that.” I gasped out through an unconvincing laugh.

“My love is wasted on him,” Robert hooked on and decided to alleviate me by sharing some of his own. “It only serves to hurt me more.”

“I get that.” I offered him another smile and I was greeted with the sweetest relief of his own cheerful face, even if it is only for a moment. “But love is meant to hurt. It is only the deepest wounds which have the most lasting pain.” I spoke inwardly, forgetting the conversation I was supposed to be having.

“I don’t think I’m capable of love.” He shocked me back to him with this statement. My brow furrowed at the lifeless face he beheld. He met my concerned face. “Well, those are the traits you learn. You watch from a young age, your parents and their displays. I don’t think my parents ever gave me that.” I shuffled closer so our sides met. I hoped the proximity gave him comfort. I knew my next move but I doubted everything about it. Finally conceding I lifted my hand to grasp his chin, and tilted his face towards my own. And I met it with my other hand.

“I see your capability.” I began with a whispered tone. “I see it in your eyes.” My sincerity seeped even further through my disguise. “That longing desire to be loved that only comes when one has a great amount of love to offer.” Our lips were inches away and with a slight lean we would be locked in a kiss. My neck strained to go further but I had to stop. I was being risky enough as is it is.

“Maybe we both need to realise the burden of our love for our family.” Robert softly stated and as soon as those words hit my ear, the world stopped. We’d both felt it too. The tiny sparks dancing between each point where our bodies met.

The door was ripped open and Arthur stormed in. He grabbed my arms and began to drag me away. Robert firmly protested. Trying to run after despite the threat of being shot. He pleaded with them for my safety and as I was forcibly thrown out, I noticed something in his eyes. Something I’d seen before but never this intensely.

“just do what they say.” I spluttered out before I was safely behind the door with Arthur.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Once Arthur had removed his mask, we both stood as I caught my breath from the stressful exit. He placed his hand on my shoulder in a bid to calm me down.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah. Perfect.” I gasped out.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Not hurt, or he didn’t –” His eyes ran over me during his uncertain questioning.

“No. Course not. All fine.” I half-way grinned up at him. We stood in silence, as Eames walked past all ready for his role as Browning. He opened the door and went in.

“I heard you in there.” He said through a small laugh.

“Oh really?” I tried to tease but my heart wasn’t fully in it.

“Yeah. It was a bit flowery, no? Bit poetic.” He laughed out. I joined in the humour but my eyes remained stoic.

“Yeah, I guess.” I became uncertain in my skin and my erratic hand movements betrayed this. “I don’t know he liked it.” I tried to show Arthur the humour behind my words and he seemed to buy it’s surface. After the laughter died out we walked back to the group. Despite the insincerity of our discussion, it felt like I had Arthur back. I liked it.

Once we reached the group, Dad immediately ran to meet us.

“Sweetheart, well done. Thank you for that—” He reached out for my arms but I never broke my stride and simply brushed past him. Arthur followed my lead.

Cobb was left standing aimless, before grasping his rejected hand into a tight fist.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

a/n - What do you guys think of the chapter? Is Arthur redeeming himself? What about Eames defending poor y/n? Are we liking Robert and y/n's interactions?

taglist: @jonsncws @h-l-vlovesvintage @theethy @fashionki11a @felicity1994 @bearchermer @idkyoutellmesmh @mimimarvelingmarvel @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @neotanpopper @deliriouslybi @folklorde24 @thefandomdiaries07 @viarosemcmissile @noirrose21-blog @thepoeticfirefly @xoxo-gothic-girl @skeletonwrite

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generational-atrophy · 1 year ago

Note

Sugar daddy russia with female s/o please ⭐

hetalia russia with a sugar baby

1.1k words ~ feminine headcanons + mini scenario

tw: ivan is possesive and intimidating, other than that, none!

a/n: thanks for this request <3 very self indulgent for me ngl

Ivan has always been a lonely man. Every romantic partner he’s had over his many centuries of living has left him, usually quite quickly. But despite his many disastrous failures, he's never been afraid to try again.

In his earlier years, he could've just bought a woman to keep him company. He had often thought about it, but would always realize that he couldn't live with himself if he did so. It was simply too disrespectful.

But nowadays there are other ways to get a woman's affection. He doesn't mind those quite as much.

Ivan has no moral qualms about paying for you to stay with him. He knows you're lying when you tell him you love him, but he frankly doesn't care. You're telling him it anyway.

He doesn’t like matching outfits very much. He appreciates seeing your own style come out more than his. But, he always blushes whenever you include a little sunflower or flag accessory in your wardrobe.

He appreciates you showing him affection anywhere, but he especially loves it in public. Usually, everyone is so afraid to be seen with him, so he always loses his composure whenever you hold his hand in front of others.

Your relationship is going to be physical. That's a requirement for him. He's incredibly touch-starved and as such, constantly has his hands all over you. He's paying for your body, isn't he?

Giving you only cash isn't a problem, but he definitely prefers going on shopping sprees with him. Sometimes, when he's especially lonely, he won't give you money; only allowing you to go to the store with him to pay.

He's rarely forceful with anything he wants; he really wants you to be just as happy as he is. Anything his sugar baby wants, she can get.

Loves to show you off. Of course, you can't mention that he's paying for your love, but you always come with him to social events. You're just his beautiful little darling, always hanging onto his arm and doing little else. Just how he likes it.

If anyone asks, he's only “paying to put you through university.”

Your relationship won't be sexual, at least for a while. If he were paying for your body in that way, you'd be a prostitute, and he wouldn't like that. That might change if he thinks your feelings towards him have become more genuine, but otherwise, nothing more than kissing.

You don't have to do very much to earn your allowance, he's more than happy to give just to see your face every day.

He doesn’t want you looking at, much less thinking about other men. Once you’re “dating” him, he’s the only man for you. Very rarely will he make exceptions to that rule.

He likes the kind of... talk that comes along with it for the most part, but he doesn't like being called “Daddy.”

In his mind, that's too vulgar of a phrase. That's not what your relationship is. He's more traditional romantically when it comes to that.

If he's in a bad mood, he'll be sure to stay far away from his sugar baby. He doesn't want to snap at you, much less you snap back at him. That'd shatter the perfect image of your relationship his mind has concocted.

He does expect you to come to comfort him at any hour, though. He'd do the same for you, so you had better do that for him.

It's hard for him to get angry at his darling. But if he does get frustrated, he'll cut you off for a short time. Never more than a week. (And, if it was an emergency, he'd put his own hurt feelings aside to help you.)

He may be violent around you, but never towards you. It's hard enough for him to build up the courage to touch you softly, he could never hurt you physically. But... he's also not afraid to punch a hole through a nearby wall to intimidate you.

He wants good behaviour, that's it. He's paying for you to be perfect, not to be a brat.

Other than that, he'd be a pretty great sugar daddy. Besides, you know, the problems but... you'd be getting that from Ivan no matter what.

“Mister Braginsky?” You call out, hesitantly entering his home using your spare key. About 30 minutes ago now, he had called you briefly, asking for you to come over.

“In the living room!“ His heavily accented voice responds from deeper in the home, accompanied by the faint sound of tinny jazz. It seemed as if his house was never truly quiet. He seemed to hate silence.

You walk into the living room, facing him sitting on the couch. His features are only visible through the warm glow of his crackling fireplace, giving his smile an uncanny look.

”Come, sit with me, Lyoubov.“ He beckons, motioning for him to join him on the couch.

Never one to disappoint a client, you quickly set your bag down and rush towards him. You no longer needed a request to know what he wanted, and as such you quickly made yourself comfortable in his lap.

As soon as you relaxed against him, he let out a shaky sigh. Now, you could make out faint tear tracks running down his cheeks. But he didn't let it show in his composure.

Gently, he gathered your skirt closer to you, running his rough hands up and down your smooth thighs, ”I'm happy that you came.“

”Why wouldn't I?” You ask softly, running your fingers through his silver locks.

“Most people do not like to be around me. I know that you are... like that as well, but you pretend you aren't. I... I appreciate your labour.”

“It's not much of a 'labour,'“ You start to say, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek, ”You make it easy to be around you, Ivan.“

”Do you really believe that? I want you to be honest.“ He asks seriously, pausing his affection.

”Yeah, of course I do.“ You scoff, shrugging slightly with a smile.

”Even if I stopped giving you your allowance?“

You pause, considering your answer, ”You'd still be a nice person. I just... wouldn't be around you anymore. That's the deal we have, Mister Braginsky.“

He smiles, bringing his hands up your thighs, ”I know. That is alright with me, moya solnishka.“

Before you could react, he brought his face to yours in a passionate kiss. As you wrapped your arms around his waist in response, he only laid a hand on the back of your head, holding you ever closer.

After a moment that felt like an hour, he pulled away, face flushed and breath heavy. You couldn't help but press yourself against him more, craving the warmth of his affection once again.

”I'll keep you around as long as you'll let me, does that sound good, lyoubov?“

”Anything sounds good if it's with you, Ivan.“

#heta tag #hetalia imagines #hetalia x reader #ivan tag <3 #aph russia x reader #hws russia x reader

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andreafmn · 1 year ago

Text

Collision | Chapter 21

Word Count: 3.6K

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life is at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

A/N: well, after many, many months Collision is back with a chapter full of angst. Just like Speak, we are nearing the point where the Cullens come back and it will really be a battle of angst between these two stories. It's crazy how much distress I can fit into a romance story... it honestly feels more that Stephanie Meyer wrote in the actual books. 🤭🤭

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Ever since that dream, she couldn’t shake the dark cloud that was Carlisle Cullen. Wherever she went, she was reminded of him. From her job at the hospital to her studies at the university, from the books in her room to the stethoscope she wore, everything had a thread of him sewn into it. Once upon a time, she had thought she’d leave Forks in the arms of the love of her life, but she had started considering leaving because of them.

The reservation had always been home and had always welcomed her with open and warm arms. A few months before, (Y/N) would not have found it too hard to leave it all behind. She had already done it once and truly believed she could do it again. But it had been the only place that had embraced her when she had been at her lowest. Even if she had been ready to walk away from them, they had wrapped her in love and understanding. They had seen her at her lowest point and had helped her get back up.

Still, (Y/N) couldn’t shake the conversation she’d had with Bella. As time passed, she questioned more and more if she’d give Carlisle another chance if he did come back. The harrowing emptiness she felt inside was more than just losing a boyfriend. It felt like true loss. The only thing she could compare it to was the time her father had left –an event the man she had loved used as ammunition against her. But how could she deny the truth behind the statement? If Carlisle had asked her to move with them, she would have left everyone behind without another thought.

But he hadn’t. And she stayed. And life went on.

Things in La Push had shifted since the new year had started. For the better part of the first two months of the year, vampires had seemed to come back to feast on unsuspecting hikers in the colliding woods. They knew it wasn’t the Cullens, but they were a threat, nonetheless. Patrol times had doubled, tensions were high, and (Y/N) knew nothing about it.

So, when Bella had called her to see if she could join her on a hike in the woods, the older girl had no qualms in saying yes. She had the time, and it made avoiding Paul easier. Her head needed clearing, and there was nothing better than the fresh outdoors. Especially since the day seemed to finally clear up.

“Thanks for doing this with me,” Bella smiled softly as she jumped out of her truck. “I would have done it by myself, but I’m not good by myself in the woods.”

“It’s no problem,” (Y/N) responded. “I honestly needed this. Can’t spend my entire life buried in books.”

“Guess not,” the girl chuckled. “I would have called Jacob –we’ve been spending time together. But Billy said he was driving up to Port Angeles. Do you, um, know anything about that?”

“Can’t say that I do. But that doesn’t really seem unusual.”

“It’s just that he’s been avoiding me for a really long time, and I don’t really get why,” Bella said as she kickstarted their hike. She was slow with the map and the compass, slower than (Y/N) would have been. But the more time she could spend outside of the house, the better. “I mean, Billy said that he was sick, but it’s been over a week of that. And now, he’s apparently feeling better, and he still won’t talk to me.”

“I can’t help you there, Bella,” (Y/N) said, suppressing a grimace. She knew what it was that the boy was hiding from her, and she knew just how awful it felt to be on the other side of the secret. “But I’m sure things will get better soon. He’s probably just lost track of time.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Maybe.”

“Here. Why don’t I work the compass?” (Y/N) offered. “Do you have a specific spot you want to go to?”

“Oh, uh, yes,” she stammered in Bella fashion, handing over the map and pointing where she wanted to go. “It’s a meadow. Somewhere around this area.”

“Any particular reason we’re going there?”

“I don’t… it’s um…”

“Does it have anything to do with Edward?” (Y/N) softly inquired. They walked at an easy pace, stepping over rocks and fallen branches. “Is it somewhere he used to take you?”

“Yeah,” Bella admitted. “It’s a beautiful clearing. We’re not too far from there. It’s honestly stunning; covered in flowers of all colors. I couldn’t believe such a place existed until he took me there.”

“Mm, I guess finding secret places is a thing amongst the Cullen clan.”

“Did Carlisle take you somewhere like that?”

“Yeah, somewhere similar,” (Y/N) responded. “It’s actually a few miles up this river.”

“What’s it like?”

“Well, the first time he took me was by the end of August, and thankfully everything was still in bloom,” she said, smiling sadly at the memory. “There’s this beautiful wooden bridge that stands right on the boundary of Forks and the rez. Vines of flowers wrapped around the handrails, and water rushed loudly under it. The trees covered the place enough that it kept it cool but left enough light peek through to make it just bright enough. We’d meet there so many times. Mostly to talk, but there were times we just went there to hold each other and pretend we weren’t that different.”

“Have you, um… have you gone back there?” Bella asked as she slipped into a rock, holding onto (Y/N) for balance. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she chuckled. “And no. I haven’t gone back since he broke my heart and left. I’m afraid of how I will react if I do.”

Bella seemed to sit with the words before talking, a question furrowing her eyebrows long before she voiced it. After keeping quiet for a second, the girl whispered, “Can I ask you something without you thinking I’m crazy?”

“We know vampires are real,” she smiled. “There’s not much you can say that will sound crazy.”

“I see him sometimes,” Bella breathed. “In moments when I’m in danger, he appears and talks to me. And, uh, I’ve been doing some pretty reckless things in order to see him.”

“The mind is very powerful, Bella,” (Y/N) sighed. “In times of heartache, it can show us what we want in order to appease us. It’s not crazy, but I do hope you don’t do something crazy searching for him.”

“I won’t,” she chuckled dryly. “At least, I hope I don’t.”

“Then, can I ask you to promise me something?”

“Sure.”

“If you ever do feel like you’re about to do something crazy, call me.”

“I will,” the girl smiled. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

“Of course,” (Y/N) winked. “Us Cullen discards need to stick together.”

“The Cullen Discard Club,” she snickered. “I like that.”

They walked for a few more minutes before Bella recognized the path they were on, taking the lead on the hike as they neared the clearing. Her steps were lively, pulling faster than (Y/N). The Uley girl could see the excitement growing in her, a thrilling enthusiasm building the closer they got. Giddy and nervous was how she would have described Bella at that moment.

But they could not have known what they were walking into when they reached their end goal. “It’s not the same,” Bella said, disappointment dripping from her voice. “It doesn’t look the same.”

“Well, the ground is still thawing from winter, Bells. It’s gonna take time for new flowers to bloom,” (Y/N) cooed. “It doesn’t change the fact that it’s a beautiful spot. I’m sure that come springtime, it’ll be like you remembered it.”

But she didn’t hear (Y/N).

Bella was stuck inside her head, searching for something more than just flowers and grass. No. She was searching for the image of Edward. She searched for the feelings that bloomed in her chest when he was there. She looked for him in the dried grass, in the rocks and the fallen branches, and looked for him in the hard, cold dirt. But there was no danger. And no danger meant no Edward. No Edward meant the dark pit in her heart still remained empty.

Suddenly, as Bella scrambled to her feet, trying to find a way to escape the surplus of emotions, a figure caught both girls’ attention.

At the farthest corner of the clearing, a man stood motionless. As frozen as only a statue –or a vampire—could be. A flash of recognition washed over Bella’s eyes as she stared at him, excitement filling her once more.

“Laurent!” she exclaimed.

“Bella?” the man inquired, a cat-like curiosity sparkling in his eyes. “And company… I don’t believe I’ve seen you before.”

“I’m not exactly from this side of the tracks,” (Y/N) responded, tugging softly at Bella’s arm to get behind her. If the girl had been looking for danger, she had found it. “You’re not allowed into my side of town.”

“Ah, the Cullen treaty,” he said. “And I didn’t know they had another human pet. I thought you were the only one, Bella. They kept you very well hidden… I don’t believe I got your name.”

“That’s because I didn’t give it,” she said, forcing a smile. “And I would very much like to keep it to myself since I don’t plan on seeing you after this.”

“Hm, I respect that,” Laurent chuckled before turning his attention toward Bella. “I didn’t think I would see you here, Bella.”

“Well, maybe I should be saying that,” she muttered. “I do live here. And last I heard, you had gone to Alaska.”

“I did go to Alaska for some time,” he agreed. “But, it’s weird, when I found their house empty, I thought they had moved on.”

Bella’s breath seemed to hitch in her throat as she attempted to find an answer. She fished and fished but, “Oh,” was the first thing that seemed to leave her throat. (Y/N) tried to reassure her by giving the girl’s arm, but it seemed her attention was entrapped by the man before her. But finally, she managed to croak out, “They, uh, did move on.”

“And they left you both behind?” he murmured, almost like he was speaking to himself. “Hmm, interesting.”

“Do they visit often?” Laurent kept fishing, taking a tentative step forward as the girls took a step back.

Bella still seemed stuck in her head, looking off to the side of Laurent, rather than straight at him. (Y/N) was sure that the image of Edward had appeared in front of her, that somehow he was speaking to her, and all she could do was listen to him. Because to her, there would only ever be him. “Now and then,” she lied, her voice trembling slightly and rising in pitch. “Time seems longer when they’re away, but I’m sure it just feels longer for me. They can get distracted sometimes and…”

(Y/N) squeezed her arm as the girl started to babble, hoping she’d get the hint. The girl’s lying was as bad as her balance, and it was sure to get them in trouble.

“That’s odd,” he continued. “The house smelled like they’ve been gone for some time.”

“Well, they don’t really stay there anymore when they come by,” (Y/N) interjected. “We make an effort to stay other places when they visit, but they’re keeping the house for any longer stays. We’ll be sure to mention you came by the next time they’re here. But we really…”

“Probably shouldn’t mention it to… Edward,” Bella managed to add as she interrupted (Y/N)’s lie, forcing them to stay there longer and interact with the fidgety vampire. “He has such a temper… not that I have to remind you. He’s still so touchy about the whole James thing.”

“Is he?”

“Yup,” Bella affirmed, still not getting (Y/N)’s hints. The more the girl sent signals to the other, the more the Swan girl ignored. “So, how have things been in Denali? Carlisle mentioned you were staying with Tanya?”

“I like Tanya,” he grinned. “And her sister, Irina… but it’s odd staying in one place for too long, although I enjoy the novelty. The diet..? Not as much.” The smile he wore grew even bigger and more sinister. “There are times I cheat.”

“Jasper has problems with that, too,” Bella blurted.

“Is that why they left?”

“He’s actually quite careful at home,” (Y/N) interjected once more. “Hiding in plain sight just got a little hard for them. That’s why they don’t stay at the house when they visit. Too many questions.”

“Ah,” he mused. “Quite the predicament to live amongst humans.”

The glint in his eyes made (Y/N)’s mouth grow dry. She had seen that hunger painted across amber eyes months before, the night that had changed everything for both of them. It had appeared the second Bella had confirmed that the Cullens had left. They had no protection from the clan. It was open season for the two Cullen pets.

Somehow, Bella didn’t know when the moment was to keep quiet. She continued to offer information that only worked to cement the fact that the vampire clan had left them alone and had not bothered to come back. It was almost as though her self-preservation gene had died.

“Did Victoria ever find you?” Bella asked in an effort to distract him. Not that it would deter the predator from his prey.

“Yes,” he said, slightly halting in his steps. “I actually came here as a favor to her. She won’t be happy about this.”

“About what?”

“Killing you,” he grinned.

“Me?” Bella worried.

“Well, both of you. You,” he answered, pointing at (Y/N). “You were a welcome surprise. Victoria wanted to save that part for herself. Not killing our new friend here, but you, Bella. A mate for a mate—sort of poetic, no? She asked me to get the lay of the land for her, but I never thought it’d be this easy to get to you. Much less that you’d bring another one of their pets. Let me guess, you belong to Carlisle.”

(Y/N)’s reaction to his name gave the man answer enough. She flinched at the word, halting in the steps she was taking back. There was nowhere to hide, and Laurent knew it. “I supposed Victoria will be angry, all the same,” he sighed. “But I just can’t help myself. I’m so thirsty, and I can’t decide which one of you smells better.”

“They’ll know it was you,” (Y/N) said, standing her ground as she stepped protectively in front of Bella. “You won’t get away with this.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Laurent snickered. “The rain will wash away all scents. No one will find your bodies—you’ll simply go missing. Another pair of hikers in the wrong place at the wrong time. There will be no reason for Edward or Carlisle to think it was me. Especially not in regards to you, unnamed friend.”

“Please,” Bella begged. “Don’t do this.”

His expression softened at the girl, a kind smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll be quick,” he said. “You won’t feel a thing. I can promise you that. What she had in store for you… it was monstrous.”

The Uley girl couldn’t believe that was how she’d end her life. At the end of the day, she would still leave her family, with no reason or explanation. Only this time, she’d have no chance to come back. She would become collateral damage in the whirlwind that was Bella Swan, and she had stepped right in the middle willingly.

A gust of wind made the hairs on her arms stand on edge, paired with the chilling stare Laurent gave them as he inhaled their scents. “Mouthwatering.”

As he walked slowly toward them, enjoying intimidating his prey, (Y/N) turned slightly toward Bella and whispered, “He’ll attack me first, and when he does, I want you to run, Bella. No questions, no thinking. Just run towards the rez.”

“I can’t…”

“This is not up for discussion,” she said through gritted teeth. “It’ll take some time for him to drain all my blood, so you better run the fastest you ever have. Take off your backpack and run.”

The vampire’s pace increased as he bared his fangs to the girls, his stare trained on (Y/N)’s form. As Bella slowly slipped off her backpack, (Y/N) braced herself for impact. Tears burned their way down her cheeks as she mumbled a prayer to whoever was listening. She begged her mother found solace, and her brother found peace after her passing. And that somehow, the Cullens got revenge for her death. If it was her time to go, then at least she hoped it was for something.

Laurent was so close, she could feel the air from his movement, so she closed her eyes and waited. But the impact never came. As her eyelids fluttered open, she saw him paralyzed in fear, his eyes staring far into the woods. “I don’t believe it,” he said almost to himself. “It can’t be.”

He retreated from the edge of the trees as a growl echoed through the meadow, and (Y/N) finally felt like she could breathe. Sam’s wolf jumped out of the darkness, followed quickly by Jared and Paul, then Jacob and Embry, all standing just slightly to the side and behind Sam. For a split second, Paul’s wolf looked toward her, sending her a look of concern which she responded with a thankful smile.

Behind her, Bella trembled in fear, petrified in the position she was. But (Y/N) knew the last thing she needed was to see how the pack shredded Laurent to shreds. They needed to move, and they needed to move now.

“Bella, we have to go,” the girl said, placing a hand on either side of her arms. “We can’t stay here.”

“N-no… we… we can’t,” she stammered. “They’ll go after us.”

“They’re too preoccupied with Laurent. Believe me, Bella,” (Y/N) insisted, trying to break through the girl’s mental block. “We have to go. Now.”

(Y/N) took hold of Bella’s arm and dragged her to the same path they had come from as the wolves disappeared behind a retreating Laurent. The girls ran as fast as their legs could take them, weaving through the woods like they had done it a million times before. But where Bella was only begging neither Laurent nor the wolves caught up to them, (Y/N) couldn’t help but pray that the pack came back unscathed. She worried they would come back home harmed, all because the girls had been reckless.

Her lungs ached, and her legs yelled, but all she could worry about was getting back to the head of the trail they had taken. After a few minutes of running, which felt like a lifetime, they finally reached the rusty red truck that belonged to the Swan girl. They crashed onto its side, bracing their bodies as they caught their breath. Hearts were hammering, and sweat shimmered on their foreheads, but they were safe. Finally safe.

“What was that?” Bella trembled. “What the hell was that?”

“Wolves, Bella. They were just wolves.”

“But they… they only went after Laurent. One of them was so close to me I could almost touch it!”

“Let’s just be grateful they didn’t see us as a threat and went after him instead,” (Y/N) offered, giving away as little as she could. “Now, go home. Take a shower, get some rest. We’re lucky we’re alive right now.”

“You would have really sacrificed yourself for me, wouldn’t you have?” Bella asked, finally dropping the wolves. “You didn’t have to, but you were ready to protect me.”

“Yeah, I would have.”

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but why? He wanted me the most. You could have saved yourself.”

“It’s not in my nature to do that,” (Y/N) shrugged. “It was sort of an instinct to protect you. I guess, I never want to see the people I care about be harmed, much less in front of me. I knew there was a chance you could survive, and I was ready to take it.”

“Thank you, (Y/N),” the girl sniffled as she took (Y/N) in a crushing hug. “You have no idea how much that means to me. “You have no idea what that means to me.”

“Just know I’m always in your corner, Bells,” she smiled. “Whenever you need me, I’m here. We're the Cullen Discard Club. We look out for each other”

“Right. The Cullen Discard Club,” Bella chuckled softly. “I guess I better head home then. Thanks again for everything, (Y/N).”

“Don't mention it,” she replied. “Get home safe, Bells.”

“You too, (Y/N).”

The Uley girl waited until the truck disappeared down the road before running toward the Young cabin. Knowing the pack would still be taking care of things in the woods, she called out to Emily once she reached the house. Her knocks were frantic against the door, nerves overtaking her senses.

“(Y/N)?” Emily questioned as she opened the door. “What’s wrong?”

“I… uh… a vampire and Sam… and…” (Y/N) couldn’t get words out as adrenaline and worry spiked even more in her system. “They could get hurt.”

“Oh, honey, come here,” the woman said as she took the girl in her arms. “They’re gonna be okay. They’ll be home before you know it.”

“But…”

“Nope, no bad thoughts,” Emily replied softly. “Why don’t you wait for them here and I’ll fix you up something to eat in the meantime? Looks like you’ve had a bit of a rough day.”

“Alright,” (Y/N) agreed as she forced a smile. “I just hope they’re okay.”

“They will be,” she smiled, hugging (Y/N) once more. “You’ll see.”

Next ->

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satuguro · 2 years ago

Text

⠀⠀ ⠀ཾ ༚ TO FAULT A NET AU

[ INTERLUDE I: SOMETHING ABOUT YOU ]

spider-man! ethan landry x black cat! reader

#SYNOPSIS— while being at a party to protect your friends, you meet an unexpected visitor.

#CONTAINS— nothing tbh, just fluff and pining

#AUTHORSNOTE— this is a request based off of to fault a net, which can be read here. also, listen to about you by the 1975 while reading!

you weren't an avid party-goer.

that never stopped you from going whenever you wanted to end up in someone else's bed that night. but other than that, you didn't go to parties for the same reason why you didn't go to a lot of get-togethers; you had no friends.

at least you didn't. not until tara began getting targeting and you being not as heartless as many people believed you to be, you cared. which led to a deal with spider-man to catch the ghostface killer. which led you here now, pouring a shot for tara after she invited you to a party with her friends. emphasis on her friends.

they were all suspicious of you— you were observant enough to know that. even after driving them to chad and ethan's dorm, they were still wary of you (and for good reason, you had no qualms). but they didn't seem to object when you came along with them to some shitty frat party, so maybe your charm (could you even call your constant cynicism and dry humor a charm?) was working.

the music was horribly loud as you and tara stood at the drinking table. the bass was boosted to the point where your heart beat shook with every beat. it wasn't an overly crowded party, but the amount of people that was entering and leaving was making you almost paranoid. what if the killer was here? what if they were watching right now?

why did you agree to party while a killer was lose? to protect your friends from the possibility of death. the knife on your side suddenly weighed a lot heavier.

picking up a bottle, you squinted as you tried to read the label with the dim led lights flashing everywhere. "what even is this?" you asked her as you read it. jose cuervo.

"it's tequila, y/n!" tara said with a large smile (which made you happy, as she hasn't been able to smile for a while due to the recent events). her head turned to the side, her smile growing as she motioned over for people to join.

"two shots in and you're already tipsy," you commented, turning your head towards who she was waving over. your eyebrows raised when you saw chad, who was pulling a reluctant ethan over.

"i was trying to get him to talk to some girls!" chad said over the music, taking a cup from the table and pouring himself a shot.

"and did you?" you asked ethan curiously, who only looked at you with a sheepish smile. the tight white shirt he was wearing was practically glowing under the blue light, making your eyes flicker to his muscles (did he always have those?).

"god, no. not really.. actively looking, you know," ethan said with a lopsided smile. "and you, did you talk to anyone?"

"i'm talking to you, aren't i?" you couldn't help but say with a flirtatious smile, one that made the boy's cheeks flare red.

but despite the slight embarrassment, ethan looked at your face, eyes softening as he said, "are you flirting with me, y/n?"

"you wish."

and at your words, ethan shrugged. "maybe i do."

hiding the slight heat of your cheeks, you turned to tara as she began to shake you, wanting to take a shot. you failed to notice ethan's own blushing face as you turned to grab him a red cup. "what do you want? tequila, vodka, soju, beer.."

ethan's eyes widened as you kept naming out drink names. "oh! i, uh, don't really.. know how to take a shot," he confessed, making chad gasp dramatically, his hand hitting his chest.

"you're around the right people, e!" chad said excitedly, making you roll your eyes amusedly (chad was really a chad) as you poured him a bit of tequila.

"i'll teach you," you offered, tilting your head towards him as you handed him the cup. you grabbed a sprite, opening easily with one hand as you handed it to him as well. "you sip this after you take the shot. try not to breathe when you take it, okay?"

ethan nodded, eyes on you as you grabbed your own sprite and opened it. "i don't usually take shots." he explained to you, sniffing the alcohol, "it's.. gross."

"then you haven't been doing it right," tara said with a smile, raising her cup. everyone raised it with her. "cheers!"

you looked at ethan, nodding as you threw your head back and took your shot, swallowing it before sipping your sprite. ethan's face scrunched up a bit as he swallowed the shot and drank his chaser, but he turned to you and opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out and saying, "ah."

"that's my boy!" chad laughed, throwing his arm over ethan's shoulders as he laughed.

you couldn't help but laugh softly at that, your muscles relaxing slightly. whether it was due to the alcohol or the energy, you didn't know. you weren't used to being around people, but you found yourself not minding it. maybe you liked the presence of others more than you thought.

"i'm gonna go outside!" you told tara and chad, who nodded (chad however, sent you a thumbs up). you moved past ethan, failing to notice how his head followed to watch you walk away, adam's apple bobbing as he watched you make your way outside.

the side of the house was empty for the most part, and you leaned against the house, breathing in the fresh air. the backyard and front porch were buzzing with people, but as you recharged your social battery at the side of the house, you found yourself alone yet again.

but as just as you got yourself ready to head back inside, the familiar thwip sound made you stop. no way he was here.

using a web stuck to the edge of the roof, he hung upside down from a strand to stare at you. posed with his legs on the web, his face was close to yours as you looked at him, unimpressed. and in any other circumstance, he would have said some witty remark about it— something that would make him interesting, as the mask almost always gave him more confidence.

but from behind the mask, as ethan stared at your face up close, he found the words drying on the tip of his tongue. even with your brows furrowed and impatience evident on your face, you still looked unreal to him. hauntingly captivating. every word a poet would use to describe their love, ethan would easily use it to describe you.

like a painter with their muse, he studied you. the angles of your eyebrows, the curve of your face, the shape of your nose, the hue of your eyes, the shape of your lips— ethan realized he could look at you and never be tired of it. he'd never be tired of the feeling of his heartbeat quickening, of how his nerves simultaneously went off and calmed down, of how he felt such a strong sense of familiarity with you he couldn't point out.

your head tilted a little but your mouth didn't speak a word. teasingly, his head tilted a little too.

"can i help you?" you asked, pretending as though you didn't argue with the hero when you had a mask on your face. how would any other person react to seeing spider-man in front of them? it didn't matter; you weren't just any other person.

"you're welcoming."

"and you have no perception of a personal bubble."

spider-man slowly moved so that he could stand on the ground, disconnecting himself from the web. he hummed at your words. "you're really nice."

"thanks." a pause. "what's new york's very own spider-man doing here at this hour?" you asked, unable to fight your curiosity as you peered at him. was he patrolling around here?

"i'm supposed to be watching out for a killer," he replied cooly, making your brows furrow. "and since everyone here seems to be careless enough to party with a killer running lose," he said as though he himself didn't take a shot with you merely moments before, "i'm here to watch over it. besides," he shrugged casually. "you're like, dislocated from the group. anyone not with the group usually gets killed."

you scoffed at that. of course he was watching over the frat party. he was most likely watching over tara and the rest of the group.

"oh, c'mon," he said, and you swore you could hear the hero grin under the mask. "haven't you watched horror movies? anyone who walks away to get air ends up getting stabbed, and you," he motioned to you, "are alone! though i don't doubt you can protect yourself, but seriously, at least pay attention to horror movie rules!"

you couldn't bite back the small smile on your lips as you listened to the hero ramble.

usually you didn't get along with people who were incredibly talkative. for some reason, you didn't mind it when he did it.

"new york's friendly neighborhood spider-man is a smartass," you tsked, nodding your head slowly. "noted."

"i prefer the term knowledgeable, actually," spider-man correct you pointedly, and you couldn't stop the small chuckle from leaving your lips. the sound of your laughter made ethan's gaze soften slightly. "so? why're you not with people and actively seeking death?"

"i'm not actively seeking death," you corrected him, leaning against the wall again. "i'm recharging my social battery."

"introvert?"

"sure." you shrugged, sighing and watching your breath come out white in the cold. you glanced at him, eyes following his body as he leaned against the wall next to you, copying your movement. "aren't you supposed to be like.. climbing on walls and shit?"

"that's not all i do, you know."

"that's primarily what i know you for," you lied, cocking a brow at the hero. you knew him for more than that. you knew him as someone who carelessly patched criminals up in their house. someone who played with cats with a genuine smile. someone who ate your ramen after he patched you up, trying to tell you that he knew that new york's black cat would be a cat lady.

"ouch," the hero said with a laugh, "maybe the killer should be scared of how mean you are."

"hopefully they are." you said with a hint of a smile. "but i mean.. aren't you supposed to be looking over the party? why're you here with me?"

the hero shrugged casually, his cheeks burning red behind the mask. "there's just something about you," he said, making you roll your eyes.

"seriously— was that a line?"

"you wish," he said, throwing your own words from earlier right back at you. you couldn't help but grin at that, tilting your head to look at him.

"maybe i do."

now it was his turn to laugh at that. it was a pretty sound, one that you didn't get to hear as often as you liked. a comfortable silence surrounded the both of you, the only noises coming from the people talking in the backyard and the muted bass of the music.

"i don't like parties," spider-man said to you, making you raise your eyebrows and glance at him. "i mean— i used to not mind them, i didn't get invited to a ton, but i liked them when i did go. but after the, uh, spider thing.. my senses aren't really cut out for that."

you tilted your head out of curiosity. why was he telling you this? you didn't mind it, really, but it was surprising to hear the hero open up to you— the real you without the mask. "you get sensory overload?"

"yeah, something like that," he murmured softly, listening to the muted bass. "loud music, lots of people, cramped space, heightened spidey sense—"

"spidey sense?"

"yes," he said, watching as you let out an amused laugh. "but as i was saying, it doesn't really make a good mix, y'know?"

you nodded your head in understanding. a beat of silence passed. then another. and another, until you found yourself telling him something that you never liked admitting to anyone but yourself. "the whole party scene isn't for me either. it's too.. crowded. too much socializing. i'd rather just visit the museum or watch a shitty show with a few people i genuinely care about instead of wasting my time being around people i don't know."

"jesus, you really are an introvert."

"oh, shut up," you scoffed with a smile, making the hero grin under his mask.

"museums, huh? you seem like the type."

"yeah," a nostalgic smile ghosted over your face, "i like just going there and staring at the pieces of art, the paintings, the statues, everything. i like just.."

"studying them," he finished for you, eyes set on your face as you nodded. "taking in their features."

"exactly. and how it's not all perfect, but all their characteristics just fit so well to what they are, what their history is, and.. it's just beautiful, you know?" you found yourself smiling a little sheepishly at the mini ramble you went on. but ethan's eyes were on you the entire time as you spoke.

"yeah, i know."

#AUTHORSNOTE— again, this is based off of to fault a net, which can be read here. thank you for reading xx

#scream 6 imagines #scream 6 smut #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagines #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry #ethan landry x you #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry x y/n #scream fanfic #scream 6 fanfic #ethan landry fanfiction #to fault a net—!#scream 6 imagine #scream vi imagine #scream vi smut #scream vi imagines

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