#but it was still nice to write something this fluffy for them

[kjiscrawlingbackformore]

Glory of the Snow

Jackie Taylor x Fem Reader

Summary: Jackie is over you avoiding her, and that unsaid thing between you two.

Warning: Well angst

A/N: I was gonna write something cute and fluffy but then this happened so like idk what to say but i’m so sorry guys 😭🥀

Jackie’s eyes always did that thing. That irritating, annoying, God awful thing. Just when the light hit them at that perfect angle, they sparkled. It was annoying because it was so distracting. And it felt like every ray of sunlight seemed to chase her down. Like even the sun needed her presence to continue it’s existence.

Your eyes clung onto her in the same way, like it needed to make sure she near. You wondered when you became so dependent? Why it even mattered? You figured it was because of the circumstance.

A plane crash has the power to do that sorta thing.

Make a person act out of the normal. Make a person feel desperate. Make a person wake up. Make a person run to the door they ignored. Push it open. The door that leads to her. You frown, peel your eyes away from Jackie.

Jackie and her green eyes, and soft smile, and flush cheeks. You focus on whatever instructions Tai was giving you. Whatever chore seemed to fall on your lap. Whatever dumb thing that they told each other would help them survive.

You were unsure if survival was something a group of teenagers and one adult could do in the middle of nowhere. It was a sentiment you held close to your chest. Like a shallow breath, you keep short and dry. Not when everything seemed to spook everyone. Or seemed to spur them on.

You instead made yourself useful. You were always a chameleon, floating amongst friend groups. You always made sure to be well-received by almost everyone. So life in the wilderness wasn't so different. Well almost.

Jackie seemed to turn your philosophy upside down.

Because Jackie wasn’t just another friend group. She wasn’t someone you could adjust your smile for, tuck away your thoughts, play nice with, and move on.

She was Jackie. Third-grade campfire stories, Jackie. Braiding each other’s hair at sleepaway camp, Jackie. Sneaking cookie dough out of the Girl Scout freezer, Jackie. First kiss, sleepovers, and soft secrets, Jackie. Thick-as-thieves, pinky-promise Jackie.

She knew you. She wasn’t someone you could ever hide behind a smile or mask with. She was the one person you never thought you'd lose. And maybe the only one you never wanted to.

And just as much as she knew you…you knew her. You try not to remember the summer before freshman year. But memory has a funny way of creeping in when you're exhausted, sun-warmed, and sitting too close to someone who once knew you like that.

It was a day like today, too. You frowned in discovery at that. You don’t even know what made Jackie ask. Maybe it was the ominous possibility of death looming over everyone. But she did. Just after dusk by the lake. Mosquitoes circled lazily around your calves. The water glowed gold, thick with sun. And Jackie leaned in, knees brushing yours, her voice quiet like it might shatter something.

“Why’d you stop talking to me?”

Just like that. No buildup. No warning. Just heat, and summer skin, and the way her voice cracked at the end. You hadn’t expected it. Not from Jackie, who always acted like nothing touched her. Like the world spun only because she said it could.

You remember staring at her. At the way her hair curled behind her ear. At the way her eyes searched your face, like she already knew the answer but needed to hear you say it.

And you wanted to say something sharp. Something easy. “You ditched me first.” “We grew apart.” “It didn’t matter.” But it had. It still did.

“I didn’t know how to be around you anymore,” you said finally, voice tight in your throat. “You started hanging out with those girls who made fun of everything. And I didn’t want to be a joke to you.”

Her lips parted like she might argue, but she didn’t. She just looked at you. And in that moment, she didn’t look like the queen bee of your high school. She didn’t look like the girl who’d kissed Jeff Sadecki behind the gym or ruled the soccer field. She just looked like Jackie.

Your Jackie.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” she whispered.

You remember nodding. You remember lying and saying, “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter.”

But you hadn’t meant it. Because it did matter. It still does.

Now, in the harsh breath of wilderness and ruin, it felt like something unspoken was crawling back to the surface. Like maybe this was the only place left where truth could survive, raw and ugly and pulsing.

And still, you couldn’t quite meet her eyes…Not when they sparkled like that.

Not when you weren’t sure what you’d find if you looked too long. And now she was doing it again. Jackie. Hovering.

Overcorrecting in all the ways you didn’t ask her to. She’d been offering to carry your water jugs, volunteering to take your firewood shift, handing you extra berries like it meant something. She laughed too hard at your sarcasm. Said your name like it was something delicate, like she was testing the feel of it again in her mouth.

And it made you… tense. Not flattered. Not flustered. Just tight, like a wire strung too sharply. Because you knew what she wanted. She was waiting. Hoping. Maybe even praying. That you’d let her in again.

Like it was that simple.

Like years of silence and hallway stares and becoming strangers could be undone with a handful of ripe berries and a few good shifts of kindling. You could feel her next to you now, her knee nearly grazing yours as you both crouched near the pile of half-sorted scavenged supplies. She said something soft, maybe your name, maybe nothing at all, and you looked up too fast.

Her face was open in a way that made your ribs clench. Like a door left unlocked. Like that summer night at the lake had never ended. The sun was hitting her eyes again.

God. That thing they did.

There was a beat. A breath. And for a second, one stupid, aching second, you thought maybe. Maybe you could let go. Maybe you could forgive. Maybe you could lean just a little closer.

But then Tai’s voice cut through the trees.

“YN, can you help re-tie the bear bags? Something’s wrong with the knot.”

It wasn’t urgent. Not even close. But you jumped at it like it was.

“Yeah,” you said, too quickly. “Yeah, I’ll get it.”

You stood so fast the blood rushed to your head. Jackie didn’t say anything. Just sat there, blinking up at you, lips parted, like she hadn’t finished what she was trying to say.

Like she’d almost reached you. Almost. And you hated how much you wished she hadn’t. You didn't talk to her for three days. You found errand, and chore, and even volunteered for the hard things no one wanted. You didn’t want to be found not doing anything.

You and Mari were hauling back two heavy jugs of lake water, stumbling like idiots, the path uneven beneath your boots. The late afternoon sun clung to your backs, sticky and golden.

“Okay, but hear me out,” Mari grunted, adjusting her grip, “what if the moose Misty saw was real—and also plotting?”

You snorted. “Plotting what? To unionize the forest?”

Mari cackled. “No, to elect Misty as woodland queen. She already has the eyes for it.”

You almost dropped the jug laughing, and Mari bumped her shoulder into yours, grinning. For one stupid second, it almost felt like home again. Before the crash. Before the hunger. Before whatever Jackie has you feeling lately.

But as soon as you broke through the tree line and back into camp, your smile died. Jackie was standing there, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes locked on you like she'd been waiting for this exact moment.

“YN,” she said, clipped and sharp. “Can we talk? Alone?”

You didn’t answer right away. Just stared, pulse thrumming. Mari looked between the two of you, her brows raised like she could feel the static in the air. You handed her your jug, slow and silent.

Jackie led the way into the woods, her pace fast, her breath uneven. You followed every step, dragging. When she finally stopped in a clearing, she turned so fast it made your stomach lurch.

“Why do you hate me?”

You flinched, and open and closed your mouth slowly. “What?”

“No, seriously. Just say it. You hate me, right?” Her voice cracked, her fists clenched at her sides. “Because that would be easier than this. Then whatever the hell this is.”

You stayed frozen. Windless. Heart in your throat.

She laughed bitterly, small. “You can talk to Mari. You can laugh with Tai. You can look Misty in the eye like she’s a real person. But me? You won’t even look at me unless someone’s dying. Unless we’re dividing up rations like war generals.”

“Jackie—”

“Why?!” she shouted. Her voice echoed through the trees, sharp as a slap. “Why am I the only one you can’t stand to be around? Why do you treat me like a ghost?”

And before you could stop yourself—before you could think or breathe or weigh what it would do to her, you said it.

“Because I can’t.” It came out hard. Gutted. Not cruel, just… broken.

Jackie’s face crumpled, like you’d cracked something in her chest wide open. She staggered back a step, as if the words physically hit her. Her lips parted, and her voice came out barely above a whisper.

“Why. Because you hate me, huh? Is that it? You hate me and I—” Her voice broke before she could finish. She looked away, blinking fast. You saw the tears. And it crushed something in you.

“I don’t hate you,” you whispered, the words spilling out like they’d been waiting. “That’s the problem.”

Her eyes snapped back to yours, wide, glassy.

“I don’t hate you, Jackie. I wish I did.”

Silence settled in around you, thick and suffocating. The woods didn’t care. The sky stayed soft. A bird called somewhere far off. But between the two of you, it felt like a reckoning.

Jackie’s breathing was uneven now, hands curled tight at her sides like she didn’t know what to do with them.

“Then why?” she asked, quieter this time. Her voice trembled, raw. “Why can’t you even look at me?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

“Why did you stop talking to me?” she pressed, eyes searching. “Why did you act like I didn’t exist that whole year? Why are you letting everyone else in but me?”

“Jackie—”

“Was it what I said? What I didn’t say? Is it Jeff? Is it me being selfish? God, just say something, please—”

“I don’t know!” you shouted, stepping back, breath catching like a hook in your ribs. “I don’t know, okay?!”

You ran your hands through your hair, pacing, unraveling. “You left, you changed, you looked at me like I was a stranger, and then you stopped looking at all. And I tried to be okay with it. I tried to let you go. And then—” your voice cracked, “—this happened, and now we’re here, and you’re everywhere. You’re everywhere, Jackie.”

She took a step closer, something flickering behind her eyes. Fear. Hope. Maybe both. “I never meant to hurt you,” she whispered. “I was just scared. I was so scared of what it meant to need you like that.”

You swallowed hard. “You’re still scared.”

“So are you.”

You didn’t respond. Your heart was hammering so loudly it was hard to think. Your vision shimmered, whether from the tears you refused to let fall or the sunlight slicing through the trees, you weren’t sure.

Jackie stepped even closer, inches now, eyes locked on yours. She looked at you like you held the answer to something she’d been asking since freshman year.

“Tell me,” she said, so softly it was barely a breath. “Why can’t you let me in?”

You couldn’t.

You really fucking couldn’t. So you kissed her. You grabbed her face, fingers shaking, and pressed your lips to hers like it was the only language you had left. Like it was the only way you knew how to say I missed you. I still miss you. I never stopped.

Jackie gasped against your mouth, startled, but she didn’t pull away. Her hands clutched your wrists, holding on, like she wasn’t sure if this was real. The kiss was messy. Desperate. All teeth and trembling breath. It didn’t feel safe or soft. It felt like falling off a ledge you swore you’d never get near again.

When you finally pulled back, her lips were parted, eyes wide, stunned silent. Neither of you said anything. The woods felt too still.

And then, quietly, barely audible, Jackie said, “That’s why.”

You didn’t know if it was a question or an answer. But you didn’t dare move. Not yet. That kiss became a ghost. Neither of you spoke of it again. It became an unsaid thing.

It hung in the space between you like a secret you were both trying not to exhale. Instead, there were glances. Quick, sharp, sometimes tender. The brush of hands when passing supplies. A too-long look by the fire. A faint smile when you handed her the warmer blanket during watch.

But no words.

Because words made things real. And neither of you knew how to hold real without breaking.

Then came her. Shauna.

The diary, the secrets. And Jackie’s world tilted again. You saw it in her face. The betrayal, thick and bitter and swallowing. You saw it in the way she stopped eating, stopped sleeping. In the way she looked at Shauna, like she was something she couldn’t believe she'd ever trusted.

That night, Jackie didn’t sleep near the others. She sat by the door instead, knees pulled to her chest, you’d assumed the crumpled pages of Shauna’s stolen journal still clenched in her hand. Her face was blotchy from crying. Her eyes were swollen and red, the light in them dulled like something had been hollowed out.

No one knew. Shauna kept her distance like she did lately. Tai gave curious glances. Misty hovered. No one dared approach Jackie. No one seemed to care all that much about Jackie’s difference in behavior.

Except you.

You didn’t say anything. Just crossed the cabin slowly, heart in your throat, and sat down beside her on the cold floor. She didn’t look at you.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The fire crackled. Someone coughed. A bird outside cried out into the nothing. Eventually, Jackie moved. Her hand, stiff and slow, reached for yours. You let her take it. Her fingers were cold. She didn’t grip, just held.

“I’m so tired,” she whispered. Voice hoarse, thick from tears.

You turned toward her, watched the way her chin trembled, how hard she was trying not to fall apart again. She looked at you then. Not through you, at you. Really looked.

And something in her cracked a little further. “Will you…” she paused. Swallowed. “Will you hold me? Just for a little.”

You didn’t hesitate. You opened your arms and she folded into you like she’d been waiting for that one permission all day. Her cheek pressed against your shoulder. Her breath hitched against your neck.

You held her, tight enough to keep her from falling apart. She didn’t sob anymore. There were no more tears left. Just silence. Just that ache that came after the storm.

You brushed her hair back, smoothing it down. Pressed a kiss to her forehead without thinking. She let you. And you stayed like that, on the cold wooden floor, wrapped in each other while the rest of the world looked away. The rest of the world didn’t matter anyway.

Nothing was said.

Nothing had to be. Because in that moment, when pride was gone, and the betrayal still raw, she chose you. Even if it was only for the night.

The next day. The next day, all hell broke loose. Yells, accusations, truth, betrayal, anger. You tried to reach for her. You begged her loudly, then quietly, gently.

“Jack, come inside, sleep it off.” You ask one more time softly, your hand touching her shoulder.

But she flinched from your hand like it burned. “I’m fine,” she croaks. “Just need a moment away from…everyone.

But she wasn’t fine. You knew it. You also knew there was no arguing with Jackie Taylor. The cold set in overnight. Biting. Unforgiving.

The kind of cold that made your bones ache and your breath turn to crystal. That night, the night before, the camp was too quiet. The fire too low.

You woke to a strange stillness, heart pounding with something you couldn’t name. The door creaked open, and snow was beginning to fall.

And Jackie was gone.

You found her under a heap of white, early gray of dawn. Curled in the snow. Eyes closed. Frozen stiff. Your breath caught. Your knees hit the ground too hard. You couldn’t feel anything but the weight of her name tearing through your chest.

You touched her cheek. So cold. Too cold.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that she didn’t get one more word. It wasn’t fair you never got to ask her what that kiss meant. It wasn’t fair she didn’t come inside.

And as the snow began to fall in soft, innocent silence around her body, you finally knew.

It wasn’t just history between you. It wasn’t just Girl Scouts and pinky promises and awkward teenage heartbreak. It was like waking up and knowing. That was the unsaid thing. You loved her.

God, you loved her.

And now she would never know.

[daydreamgoddess14]

Joaquin Torres + Royalty AU + secret admirer 💜

Yes, Em! I've been dying to write for this gorgeous man! 😍

Thirst Tweets

Royalty AU Prince Joaquin x f!Reader

Warnings: just pure fluffy fluff

Word Count: 584

Masterlist

Your anonymous Twitter account was never actually meant to be seen by him.

Sure, it had a not-insignificant number of followers - people who liked the photos, the memes, the occasional (slightly unhinged) thirst threads. It was all good-natured and harmless.

You strictly enforced a no-hate policy. No rudeness or snark was tolerated toward the - frankly gorgeous - Prince Joaquin Torres.

The account was for fun. For swooning. For maybe imagining what it would be like if he ever looked at you the way he looked at puppies or planes.

That morning, you logged on planning to post photos from his latest charity event. You already had them queued up, complete with witty captions.

But first, you decided to clear your inbox. A few replies to mutuals, a few blocks for trolls…

And then you saw it.

Sitting at the top of your inbox was a message from an account you didn’t recognize.

@SkyHighBirdie

Their profile picture was just a blurry sunset. Hardly any followers. Nothing that screamed "troll."

Hey, I just wanted to say… I love your posts. You always seem to get what he’s about. Like, beyond the titles and the dumb tabloid bullshit. It’s nice to see someone who actually cares.

You tilted your head, smiling a little. You got messages like this sometimes - sweet and earnest from other fans. But something about this one felt… different.

Also, that edit you made last week with the crown? Hilarious. I might’ve snorted my coffee.

You laughed aloud.

Anyway. Hope you’re having a good day.

You typed out a quick thank you, telling them you appreciated it.

What you didn’t know, what you couldn’t know - was that on the other end of that anonymous account sat Joaquin himself, his cheeks flushed, and a wide grin, as he waited for your reply.

He left it a few days before messaging again. The moment a kid at the hospital started putting glitter eyeshadow and lipstick on him he knew what was coming from your account, and he wasn’t disappointed.

He sniggered his way through dinner as the reply chain grew longer and more hilarious.

You should get a medal for keeping those twitter replies in check.

It’s a full time job today. Wait til he goes on vacation, then they get WILD.

He choked on his beer.

And you?

Equally wild.

Good to know.

Over time, the messages turned more playful.

What would you do if you ever met him in real life?

You hesitated.

I’d probably faint. Or kiss him. Or both.

Bold. I like it.

Your heart stuttered. You didn’t even know if @SkyHighBirdie was a man or a woman, but you liked them - the late-night jokes, the warmth, the flirting.

Until one afternoon, another DM arrived.

You ever go to the palace gardens?

Your fingers hovered above your keyboard.

I mean… no? You need an invite for that.

You should come. Tomorrow. There’s an event. Tell the guards @SkyHighBirdie sent you.

Your heart pounded. It had to be a prank?

But still, you went.

You almost turned back at the gates, but when you murmured the username, the guard only nodded and stepped aside.

You’d only taken a few steps when he stepped into your path.

The Prince.

“I -” you started, but your words stuck in your throat.

“Hi,” he said, voice soft. “I’ve been dying to meet you properly.”

A slow, disbelieving smile spread across your face.

“Hi,” you breathed, unable to stop laughing.

And suddenly, every late-night message made perfect, beautiful sense.

[thehatboxwitch]

in gentle captivity

gentle ways they coerce you into submission.

characters: phainon, mydei, anaxa

i just wanted to write something fluffy 😔

phainon

you glare at him balefully from the other side of the bed, your arms wrapped around you, shivering like a leaf in the wind.

“come on.” he gestures at you, giving you those pleading, adorable, puppy dog eyes.

phainon’s holding the blanket hostage. his arms are open. and the night is very, very cold.

“c’mon,” he coos again, and when he wiggles closer, you find it hard to turn away from the inviting warmth.

“there we go,” he says, voice muffled by the blanket. he bundles you up into his arms, against his solid chest, locking his legs around you. “there you go. come snuggle.”

despite yourself, you find your muscles relaxing, as phainon strokes his fingers through you hair, massaging at the top of your neck. it feels so unfairly nice, the way he envelopes you completely through sheer size alone, holding you with just enough pressure to be cosy.

you try making a sound of displeasure, but it’s hard when your voice is muffled by his chest. and you decide it’s okay if phainon wins - for today, at least.

mydei

“open up,” he tells you sternly.

“no,” you reply sharply. though you suppose your threatening face rather loses its edge when you’re lying weak in bed with a raging fever and a churning stomach.

“don’t be stubborn. i don’t have all day.”

the juxtaposition of big, scary mydeimos trying to feed you a bowl of hot soup he’d made would be quite jarring to the casual onlooker. but for the past few days, you’ve realised that he has the meticulous hand for caring for people as he nursed you slowly but surely back to health.

you squeak in surprise when mydei reaches forward and squishes your cheeks in a hand. he blows on the spoon, and delivers it skilfully into your mouth like a mama bird.

you swallow, because you’re not a child (and his cooking is too good to go to waste.)

“i’m not a baby,” you add uselessly. “you don’t have to feed me.

“i know,” he replies, with the patience of a mother too tired to correct her petulant child, and you feel sufficiently chided that you keep your mouth shut until he's done feeding you.

anaxagoras

it’s not often that anaxagoras keeps his mouth shut, but when he does, you know him well enough to know that he’s observing something.

typically that something is you. but still, you yelp quietly when he seemingly wanders up into your vicinity and claps his hands onto your shoulders.

“what the f- oh.”

anaxa forces your shoulders down, pressing into the pressure points with surprising force. it hurts, but you hadn’t noticed your tenseness until he works it out of you, methodically, robotically. it feels nice - if you put aside who's massaging you and how unfeelingly he's doing it.

“you’ve been… ahem.” he clears his throat. “you’ve been looking very… tense.”

“wow. i wonder why,” you reply drily. wasn’t this a problem of his own making? still, it was nice to be looked after, for once.

both of you spend a moment in silence.

“i’m surprised you noticed,” you murmur faintly.

his silence is notably loud. "...why would i not have noticed?"

"hm," you reply. "i don't know."

perhaps it was the way he seemed to see you as more of an experiment than a human person. if your feelings weren't serving his hypothesis, anaxa tended to brush them off. it was easy to feel lesser-than - even when all the while you were fighting to be otherwise.

you swallow back your pride. “this is… nice,” you force out.

anaxa’s hands pause. “…yes?”

you nod, hesitantly.

“good.” and though you can’t see his face, you get the distinct feeling he might be smiling.

a hatbox summer event

if you enjoy my work, rbs help the most! ⭐️

[harrysfolklore]

hi! i have a little bitch blurb request - piastri sis is on painkillers after a minor surgery or after being at the dentist and while carlos is taking care of her she says things she never would’ve DARED to say out loud - even about the fact she’s been infatuated with him longer than she’ll ever admit 😋

this was so fun write 😭😭 i love my little bitches so much

"Carloooooos," you slur through a mouth full of gauze, reaching blindly for him as the nurse wheels you out. "I missed you. Did you miss me? I was asleep but I missed you."

"Yes, mi amor," he tries not to laugh as he helps you into the car. "I missed you too."

"Your face is so nice," you pat his cheek clumsily. "Like... so symmetrical. Are you real? Maybe I'm dreaming."

He buckles you in carefully. "I'm real."

"Prove it," you demand, then immediately start giggling. "My mouth feels like clouds. Do clouds feel things, Carlos? Are clouds sad?"

"I don't think so-"

"We should ask Lando," you say seriously. "He knows about clouds. He's British. It rains there."

Carlos bites his lip to keep from laughing as he starts driving. You're staring at him with wide, unfocused eyes.

"Your hair is so fluffy," you reach for him, missing completely. "Like a lion. My lion. Did you know lions mate for life? Are we lions, Carlos?"

"Eyes on the road, eyes on the road," he mutters to himself in Spanish, fighting a smile.

"Oh! Spanish!" you perk up. "I know Spanish! Te... te something. What's the word? The love word?"

"Te amo?"

"YES!" you try to clap but miss your hands together. "Te amo! I love you SO much. Like... like more than pizza. And I really love pizza. I think I love you since the first time I called you a stupid little bitch."

"I'm honored-"

"But shhhh," you stage whisper. "Don't tell Carlos. He'll get a big head. His head's already perfect though. How is it so perfect?"

"Mi amor, I am Carlos."

You gasp dramatically. "No way! Since when?"

"Since birth, I think."

"Birth!" you suddenly look devastated. "I wasn't there for your birth! I missed baby Carlos! He was probably so cute. With tiny baby abs."

He can't hold back his laugh this time. "I don't think I had abs as a baby."

"Lies," you poke his arm, missing twice. "You came out of the womb with a six-pack. And perfect hair. And that smile that makes me want to take off my-"

"Okay!" he interrupts quickly. "How about some water?"

"Water is boring," you pout. "You're not boring though. You're exciting. Like racing. Vroom vroom."

He hands you a water bottle anyway, helping you drink without choking.

"My hero," you sigh dreamily. "Saving me from death by water. We should get married."

He nearly swerves. "What?"

"Yeah! Right now! Call Lando, he can be the flower girl. Oscar can be the ring bear."

"Ring bearer?"

"No, ring BEAR. He has to dress as a bear. It's traditional."

"Since when?"

"Since right now. I just decided. I'm very smart, Carlos. The doctor said so."

"Did he?"

"Mhmm. He said..." you scrunch your face in concentration. "Actually I don't remember. But I'm sure he did. Because I am smart. Smart enough to date you. HA! Take that, Instagram models!"

"What Instagram models?"

"The ones that slide into your DMs," you try to look stern but your numb face isn't cooperating. "I see them. With their perfect teeth. Well guess what? I have no teeth now! I win!"

"You still have teeth, mi amor. Just minus the wisdom ones."

"Wisdom..." you gasp. "Carlos! Am I going to be stupid now?"

"No-"

"Quick! Ask me something smart!"

"Like what?"

"Like... what's your favorite color?"

"That's not really a test of wisdom-"

"BLUE!" you shout triumphantly. "See? Still smart! And your butt looks really good in blue. Like REALLY good. Science fact. I used to stare at your butt when I pretended to hate you."

Finally, you reach home. Carlos helps you out of the car as you ramble about his "science butt" and whether lions know about race cars.

"Time for rest," he says, laying you on the bed.

"No," you grab his shirt. "Stay. Protect me from the tooth fairy. She's a thief, Carlos. A professional thief."

"I'll protect you," he promises, sliding in beside you.

"My hero," you mumble, already drifting off. "Hey Carlos?"

"Yes?"

"If we have babies, will they have wisdom teeth? Or will they be born wise? Like little wise lions...Or wise little little bitches."

You fall asleep before he can answer, drooling slightly through the gauze.

And Carlos can only smile.

[butyoudidthis4what]

Perfumer

Jack Abbot x Reader

1.5k || All of my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: none I think. Hinted at sex and suggestiveness but that's about it really.

Summary: Jack smells the perfume you're wearing, flirty fluffy happy teasing ensues. That's it, that's the fic. Established relationship. No use of y/n or related. Zero proofreading of any kind. No beta.

A.N.: The summaries and titles will not be getting better I fear. After getting out some sadness in that last one I just needed something fluffy and happy and flirty. This is very self-indulgent as I love perfume and wish I had Jack Abbot giving me some and then smelling it on me, and telling me I smell good, you know? Honestly I'm quite shocked I wrote anything with like no level of angst in it that was just fluff. But my mental health needed some pure happy fluff with him so here we are. Anyway, this is exceptionally short for me and as with last time this is my first time back writing fanfic in a longggg time so please be gentle and kind and also let me know if you like it! The ending is very open, so there's definitely part two potential depending upon reception and if anyone would like.

“I should have known the trail of smell good was you. You always smell good.” Santos comments as she walks up to you while you stand by the center desk. “Do you own like a thousand perfumes or something?” 

Jack’s head popped up from looking at the tablet in his hands a few rooms down from the desk at ‘smell good,’ correctly assuming it meant you were here. You can feel his eyes on you and look over at him. “Probably not a thousand, but a lot, yes. I collect them.” 

“Why? Aren’t women supposed to want, like, a signature smell or whatever?” She tilts her head at you. 

You start smirking but Robby beats you to it. “Oh, she has to keep Abbot on his toes somehow.” 

“What does that even mean?” She looks between you, Robby, and Jack.

You bite your lip and stifle a laugh. It’s nice, having your relationship out in the open, having been able to get to know Jack’s friends. He’s still quite private though, which you respect, and know Robby is flirting with the line. You weren’t going to go quite as far, but can’t help the way it made you smile, in large part because it’s true.

It’s become somewhat of a game for you and Jack. You wear a different perfume everyday and he guesses what it is. He’s good at it, which isn’t surprising, he’s good at everything he does. It’s a nice way to have a close moment together. He likes buying them for you too to keep the game interesting.

It lets him read your moods a bit too. He’s learned that when you’re a bit down you have a tendency to go for perfumes that are heavier in a sense, more warm and comforting. And if you don’t wear perfume he knows it means things are bad because you don’t want to end up associating a smell with however you’re feeling or what you’re going through. He also swears they mix with your chemistry and smell different at certain times during your cycle. You don’t know why you found the idea of him being able to smell that on you so hot, but you very much did.

Recently you’d taken to layering some of them, in part to be creative and in part to make it more challenging for Jack.

“It means-” Robby starts.

“Okay, can we just not?” Jack asks as he walks over to you, shooting Robby a look and standing next to you. 

“I just think it’s cute how-”

“Still talking.” Jack cuts Robby off. 

“How the tables turn.” Robby shoots back, making Jack roll his eyes. 

“I was just trying to help-” Jack starts.

“Now, now, boys, no fighting in front of the children.” You fake scold them. This time they both roll their eyes at you. 

“Go back to work since you all still want to be here past your shifts.” Jack tells everyone, grabbing your hand and leading you to the doctor’s lounge. 

You expect a kiss and hug now that you’re in private, but instead you’re met with him pressing his chest to your back, one hand coming to hold one of your hips and the other moving your hair off one shoulder and tilting your neck before he leans in close to breathe you in. You can feel the soft skin of one of his lips brush against you and the stubble from him not shaving for a day. 

“Jack,” you breathe, heavier than you mean to, one hand coming to rest on his hand on your hip and the other reaching up to cup his face. 

“Celeste,” he murmurs against your skin. He’s right so you nod. That’s the name of the perfume you’re wearing on your neck and wrists today. “No wonder Santos picked up on you. Heavy sillage.” He gives you a kiss to the neck before pulling back to spin you and give you one to the lips. You smile as he does. “Stop smiling so I can kiss you properly.”

That makes you laugh, but you’re able to control it and in turn he’s able to kiss you properly, how you deserve to be kissed. “I love that you know what that word means and actually used it. It’s kind of hot.” You give him another kiss. “I’m making my military man into a perfumer.”

He hums at you, low and from the back of the throat. He loves it when you call him yours. “If you ever told anyone I would deny all knowledge of having a clue about what sillage and gourmand and all of the other pretentiously fancy perfume related words mean.” 

“I never would. Couldn’t ruin your reputation could I, Dr. Abbot? Plus I like having our little secrets.” You let your voice trail down on the last sentence, run your hands all over his scrub top.

His eyes darken just a little and his jaw tightens. He never really had any sort of title kink before he met you, but there’s something about the way ‘doctor’ slips off your tongue that really gets to him. Same with sir. 

“You’re not here for an ED related reason, are you? Hurt? Sick?” It’s teasing but there’s just enough of a tinge of real concern to the question that melts you. 

“I am not, no. I promise if I ever was here for such a reason I would make sure you knew immediately.” You smile at him softly, run a hand through the salt and peppery curls you love so much. “I just wanted to lay eyes on you, even if only for a moment. I missed you extra today. I’ll let you get back to work.” He nods, the little smile he gives you saying everything it needs to. You share one last kiss before going to leave the room.

“Oh,” you say, turning around and shutting the door again. “You’ve only answered half the question today. I just thought you should know.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You layered scents?”

“No.” You shake your head and smirk. He narrows his eyes a little as he tries to find the answer in your eyes. It suddenly clicks.

“Fuck me, your ankles?” He groans. “You put a different one on your ankles? Why?” He can already feel himself starting to fill out. He doesn’t know if he could articulate why he finds it so hot when you put perfume on your ankles for him to discover but he does. 

Your smirk widens. “For a fun surprise and to see the look on your face when I told you.” He glances around the room and then gets a look on his face like he’s thinking. You’re shocked, honestly. It’s so out of character for him to think about trying to do it at the hospital. It’s only happened twice. “Oh no,” you laugh, “no, no, no, Jack rabbit, you are not finding out here at the hospital, so don’t even think about places you could take me to try and find out.” 

He makes a noise of protest, somewhere between a growl and a whine that makes you bite your lip. He pins your back to the door with his hips and rolls them against you, grinding him into you to let you feel what you’ve done to him. “So what, I’m just supposed to go around like this for the rest of my shift?”

“Well you might want to take a couple of minutes to let that go down baby, but yes. You can finish your shift thinking about what could be on my ankles and what position it is you’re going to put me in to find out.” You press a kiss to his collarbone and his hands squeeze your hips a little harder, an unspoken command to look at him. 

You pull back and do as he asked. So big on eye contact, your Jack. He blinks at you, jaw clenched. “I’m going to be half hard and uncomfortable there for the rest of my shift, you know that right?”

“I am nothing if not a cruel woman.” You say with fake solemnity as you smooth your hands over his chest. “I’m sure as you get drawn back into work it’ll go away. Plus, you know the anticipation and wait makes it better.”

He somehow steps closer to you, almost puts a knee between your legs and leans in close, dropping his voice and making his voice even more gravely. “I want you to remember those words because you’re going to find out all about them once I’m home and I don’t want to hear any complaining.”

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you threatening to edge me, sir?” His jaw grinds and you see the slightest twitch under your eye that makes you smirk. You love that you can affect him like this.

“I don’t make threats, Doll.” He whispers at your ear as he steps back from you and pulls the door to the lounge open for you both to walk out of. Everyone glances up at the two of you, effectively forcing you to control your reaction as he keeps his voice low, only for you to hear. “Only promises I intend to keep.” 

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

Part Two is here!

[silentaffirmations]

⠀ 💭 ۪ 𓂃 KISSMARKS ON OBJECTS!

─ multi x gn!reader. drabbles of kissing various objects and getting lipstick all over them.

➴ romantic relationship(s) prestablished, possibly unrealistic &. weirdly characterized, cursing, tooth rotting fluffy-ness me thinks, romantic and possibly suggestive, kissing &. making out, neck marking/kissing, post- or pre- realization idgaf, player is meaning to be gender neutral but wears lipstick for the sake of this writing. do with this what you will, player is hinted to be shorter then hank four, i have no consistent writing style and it lowkey continously changes with each character i write but we ball, seems a little free-use on the hanks part but whatever 💔, I HAVEN'T FINISHED PARKERS LOVE ROUTE YET SPARE ME OF HATE. lowercase intended &. not proofread. inspired by date-eveeything!

THE HANKS!

everything was a blur of lips and giggles. endlessly were you pulled left and right, meeting a new mouth or just part of someone's face each time. it was nice nonetheless, the soft feverish drag of lips on one another, lipstick smeared haphazardly among the six. you kinda forgot how this had even begun, but worrying about something like that instead of the, quite literal, push and pull of intimacy would've been idiotic.

broken out of your thoughts, you felt someone pull you up to their firm chest all the same, eyes catching the sight of those familiarly red curls. a low squeal escaped you even after it all, feeling hank three eagerly kiss you and effectively scrubbing off your lipstick further. hank three surely had it the worse, positively covered in lipstick marks that ran from his forehead down to his neck, and it contrasted beautifully with his ginger hair and flushed, freckled covered cheeks.

you pulled away from the kiss, dazed eyes glancing around, really just taking it all in. you were met with grins, and felt yourself back once more, feeling your head get tilted back and lips meeting theirs like a scene in a romance movie. you can't dwell on it long, giggles muffled into your mouth, and it was a safe assumption that it was hank four.

slowly pulling away from hank fours lips, you blinked multiple times, swallowing built up saliva. you let your head tilt back into place, back still pressed up against hank fours chest, and you found your head reeling for thoughts.

"breathless already?" you heard hank three question teasingly, and you could only jump as hank one suddenly slid infront of you. you suddenly became aware of how your breath was shallow, yet quick, and how your heart was beating loudly in your ears. your cheeks felt unbearably warm.

you were about to answer, though felt hank one stopping you with his mouth. you sighed lowly, hank fours hands drifting to your hips and keeping you in place gently, and you couldn't help but lean back into his comfortable embrace, prompting hank one to lean forward as to keep the kiss going.

your hands reached up, bracing themselves against hank ones shirt. they balled up into fists, getting a soft grab at hank ones top. feeling hank one back away, you bit your bottom lip, breathing deeply through your nose.

hank two sheepishly slid over to your side, timid touch reaching your chin and tilting your head over to where he was. your lips connected with his easily, and you let your bruised bottom lip free from your teeth.

you tensed just barely, feeling someone's, surely lipstick-covered, nose prod at your neck. you eased quickly, feeling soft pecks pressed against the skin, and you get just a small glimpse of light brown skin; hank five. it was a little ticklish, but naturally nice feeling. it was abruptly broken, the soft romance of his little kisses paired with sudden bites against somewhere near your jugular, and there was no mistake it was hank three.

the night was sure to end with your lipstick completely transferred onto the other five, lips puffy and used, and neck filled with markings that would've taken days to ridden of, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

MAC!

infront of you was such a gorgeous sight. mac was covered in lipstick marks, looking hazy with eyes filled with love, pupils almost carved into hearts. they smiled sweetly, feeling the comfortable feel of your body ontop of theirs. it was grounding, feeling you cautiously seated upon their lap, kept in their wheelchair that had been locked, assuring it wouldn't move.

"i love you," they murmured quietly, almost mistaken as another sound of wind, but you heard them loud and clear anyways. you return a smile, leaning forward and pressing further kisses upon their burning face, feeling the heat under your lips. sure, they were overheating most definitely, but they would rather die then ruin such an intimate moment with a complaint of how they were burning up. it could wait.

kisses trailed down their face to their soon-to-be-marked neck, letting your lipstick drag against their skin. your actions spoke more than the words you never said, lips brushing against their body being enough said. it was a silent 'i love you', and they basked in the warmth of it, no matter if it wasn't verbal.

they steadily moved their hands to move from your hips to your waist, pulling you closer till it would've been impossible to shift you any more near them no matter how hard they tried. they gave another breathless whisper of confessing their love, surely having been the tenth time they had stated it, and it only made you laugh quietly with adoration. it was admiring how much mac could repeat their words of love over and over, yet could make it feel like it was for the first time again.

moving back up, you let your lips meet theirs, the world outside of the feeling of their lips upon yours forgettable. it was gentle, yet told a million words that could've been spoken poetically, and it was something to relish in. even after it ended, the love it carried felt endless.

"i love you too," you finally respond. it was quick, quiet, but cute. mac sighs dreamily, leaning forward and resting their forehead onto your shoulder, letting the thoughts of them being oh so warm be buried away with how much they loved you.

with a red face and a bright smile, they flutter their eyes closed, wanting to be as close too you as possible, and it worked. curling their arms around your waist completely, your chest pressed against their own, they could've ugly sobbed at how much love you two shared. they were happy to know you were theirs, and they were yours, and maybe that's all that mattered at the end of the day.

PARKER!

parker loved games, and of course it made sense. he loved the games you made up specifically, and especially so when you would play the kissing game with him! he found himself shifting excitedly beneath you, feeling kisses pressed against anywhere you could reach. giddy giggles bubbled in his throat, as if each movement you did was ticklish upon him, and maybe they truly were.

"tickles," he hums, confirming your thoughts and it was as if he could read your head. wouldn't be that crazy for parker to be able to do such a thing, as i mean, cmon. its parker.

you laugh a little, comfortably straddling his hips with your hands shifting up to hold his jaw. you lightly tilt his head up, exposing unmarked skin, and it was quick to be covered in the familiar color of your lipstick. parker helped you a little, lifting his head up further till it was completely lulled back onto the planks. although the floor was unforgiving and rough against his back, your warmth cradled him like a towel would after a cold shower.

he stared up at the roof, feeling your lips make work on his pretty skin. it was nice to kick back every once and a while and let himself go, even if he did occasionally still miss playing a board game despite being literally loved on completely at the moment.

"thanks," he sighs absent-mindedly. he, himself, wasn't sure what he was thankful for, but nonetheless it was said, and he didn't dull on it for to long feeling your lips press right over where his heart would be underneath his clothing. you felt the beats slowly spike under your mouth, insinuating parker was flustered, and it made you just let out another laugh, though this one softer, kinder. it lingered there, if not just for a moment, before you unfortunately pulled away, admiring the work of art below you.

he pouted slightly, your lipstick staining his clothing, but it vanished quickly as you pressed a chaste kiss on his mouth. he couldn't stay mad for to long, and you knew that very well. nevertheless, you gave a little apology, a hefty amount of playfulness in your tone expectantly.

"its fine, lucky charm." he sat up slightly, expecting the game to be over, before he felt himself be gently pressed down by your hand that rested front and center on his chest. he blinked, looking at you before feeling your lips against his own, hearing a small murmur that you weren't done yet, and he couldn't believe how much his face reddened, eagerly reciprocating the kiss afterwards.

all credits to silentaffirmations on tumblr. everything made by me. do not reupload, feed to 🤖, take as your own, etc.

[velvetydream]

꒰ :🥀 [ Like a deer in headlight ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : After finding out that Alastor indeed had ears atop his head, it was now time for round two of your game - his deer tail.

Pairing : Alastor x Reader

Word count : 3313 Words

Genre : Fluff, Suggestive(?)

Warnings ➵ Possessive and out of character Alastor,

he accidentally hurts and scares Reader

a/n : Continuation of my Alastor x Reader story, > Deer in headlight < , got asked for this by a few people, so here ya'll go! Hope it's as good as the first one!♡

┌───────────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

It had been a week since you had discovered Alastor's ears and he had let you touch them for the first time. Sneaking on him a few times to caress or play with them, maybe even a little tug or kiss to them when none of the others were looking. The relationship between you two also changed to something different, you couldn't exactly put a name to it, but it was more than friends, but definitely less than lovers. It confused you. Alastor confused you. Once he is nice to you, cooks you dinner, and lets you play with his ears while he writes a new script, the next time he rather distances himself from you, makes jokes here and there as if he himself didn't know what to do nor how to act.

The others also had picked up on the change between you two, Angel was teasing you about it a lot, Husker just warned you to be careful, Niffty was herself like always and Charlie was super happy about how close you two seemed to have gotten now.

So now to your new mission at hand, round two of your self-proclaimed game. Figure out if Alastor has a tail and if yes, get around to touch it! But this time it seemed to be harder than before, Alastor had his guard up a lot around you now, even when he let you play with his ears. Every time your hand wanders away from his ears down to try and peak under his coat, his hand either guides yours back up to his head or he entirely gets up and leaves, making sure you cannot find out if he has a fluffy little tail.

So now you were sitting at the bar, head resting on the counter as Husker slid your favorite drink over to you. "No look yet huh sweets? Was surprised you even got around to touching his ears without injuries." Angel now sat down beside you, softly patting your back as you let out a tired groan. "I just don't get it! I mean he saw that in the it wasn't that bad when I touched his ears! So why is it so bad now if I figure out if he has a tail too!" Pouting, you sit up a bit now taking a sip from your glass. "Maybe he doesn't have one, none of us ever saw one at least. Or maybe if he has one it's a different feeling for him than his ears?" Husker was cleaning a glass now as he spoke to you. Maybe he was right but.. you really wanted to know if he had a cute matching tail. Eyes going around the foyer now as you notice Alastor making his way up the stairs.

"Al! Wait up!" Jumping down from the barstool to follow him up the stairs, he waited for you on the stairs before walking up beside you. Eyes glancing over to him, he looked calm as always, his signature smile adorning his face, staff clutched in one hand as he walked alongside you. "How can I help you today dear?" Looking over at him now, you simply followed him to where he was going. "Are you doing a broadcast today? May I listen again?" Raising an eyebrow slightly Alastor looks over to you, nodding in agreement as he leads you to his radio tower. Over the last week, you had listened to his broadcast live two times already, which made you happy that he allowed you to join him. Opening the door for you, you enter first as you immediately take a seat at the table, Alastor had put up a second chair for you. Still, you noticed how his eyes had a glimmer of suspicion at how you suddenly wanted to listen in today.

Waiting for him to start the broadcast, your head was leaning on your hand as you watched Alastor with a smile. Suddenly an idea came into your head, trying to suppress the grin that was threatening to grow on your face. Alastor was focused on his broadcast, talking about something you weren't even listening to anymore. Reaching your hand over now, your fingertips softly graze his ears, as Alastor lets out a surprised yet quiet yelp, before turning his head to you with a warning glare. Returning his gaze with a smirk now, as you stand up from your seat and slowly walk over to him, he was glaring at you now. You were so close to fucking up, but this was a chance. Reaching your hand out to the back of his coat to pull it up. Quickly the > On Air < sign switched up, as Alastor grabbed your wrist in a rather right grip. Turning his head to you now, his antlers had grown in size, a red X on his forehead, and eyes turned to dials. You definitely fucked up now.

"D̷̢͙̟̼̘̊̒̑͑͝ë̸͇͍͓̲͇͂̾̓͝a̴͙̻̞̫̞̾̑̈́͑̕r̸̖͎̼̳͍̀̉̌̉̒ ̶̜͉̦͔̒̋̌̒̕ͅw̵̛̲̭̰̼͒̑̎͝ͅh̴͚̮̬̜̔̉͗̀̅ͅa̴̭͖͍̩̣͐̀̇͂̿ţ̷̛̪̣̥͓̓̆̕͠ ̴̢͓͓͙̯̂̀͋̀͘w̵̘̣̫͚͛̋͛̊͠ͅë̴̢̡̛̥̦͇́̄̉̈ř̶͓̜̗̻̓̊̐͘ͅẽ̷̮̻͈͕͎̓̌͐̈ ̵̠̝̫̺̲̑́̍̈́̈́ÿ̴̳̩͍͎̙́̌́̿̈́o̶̰̭͎͈̣̅͛͑̌͘u̶̢̝̥̞̪͋́̒̎͝r̶ ̵͕͉̫̻̤̎̐̋̾͘į̴͕͈̮̅̎̈́̀̌ͅn̸̠̳̮̤̻͆͛̔̎͋t̸̖̻̲̘̭̐̎̂̏̕e̵̞͎͎̭̗̓̍̓̉̈́n̶̬͈͎̤͉̈́̈́̈́̇̾ţ̶̱͓̥̲̅̔͋̀̚i̶̡̲͕̤̩̒̏͐̈́͝ǒ̷̗̰̯̩̻́̔̄́n̸̡̧̞̩̥̔͆̎͆̅s̵̪̣̱͔̎͒́̽͠ͅ ̷̝͍͈̥͌͂̿̏͘ͅr̶̹͚̦͉̞̈́̈́͂̋̀i̶̡̨̛͉͇͇̾͐͊̍g̸̨̛͉͎̰̖͋̒͒̓h̴̜̫͕̪͊͊̈́͝͠ͅt̷͉̳̩̰̜͗̈́̓̽̒ ̴̨̬̱̰̠̒͂̍́̏n̸̬͍̬̣̗̿̃̅́͑ǫ̸̠̰̈̊͌͗̚͜͜w̴̧̜̺̖̓́̎͗͆ͅ?̴̠̖̯̤͚̓̀̎̂͆"

Gulping once, you try to pull your arm back from his grip, which just makes him tighten it. Hissing lowly, you squeeze your eyes shut, it was slowly stinging a bit from how tight his grip was. "Al.. You're hurting me!" Alastor finally turned back to himself, letting go of your red wrist now, a print of his fingers visible as you cradled your hand against your chest. "I'm going to leave for now.." Head down as you hurriedly leave the room, closing the door behind you as you dart for your room, ignoring Angel's calls who just walked past you. Throwing yourself on your bed now, you looked at your wrist scared now. He had never used his demon form for you, there was no way of denying that he had scared you. Closing your eyes to push away the tears that were slowly building up in your eyes, as your consciousness drifts away.

"Dear, wake up." A hand on your shoulder was softly shaking you awake, lifting your head to take in your surroundings before meeting Alastor's eyes. Sitting up quickly, you scoot a bit away from him as you watch him with wide eyes. "Alastor..! What are you doing in my room?" Watching him now, as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed, making sure to not make you any more uncomfortable by getting too close to you. "I'm sorry about back there, I lost it a bit, I shouldn't have." Despite smiling, you noticed that Alastor was genuinely apologizing to you. "I'm sorry, I crossed a line there, I used your trust in me listening to your broadcast live, I'm truly sorry." Laying your hand near his own carefully, letting him decide if he wants to be touched right now. Looking down, he softly takes your hand, as he presses a kiss against the red fingerprints he had left behind. His eyes were closed right now as his lips linger a second longer than they usually do. "I'll make it up to you, I promise." Raising to his feet now, he gave you a soft smile, before leaving you stunned in your room.

Laying back down against your pillows, your gaze was on the ceiling as your cheeks became a soft shade of red. What was he thinking? Turning onto your side now as you hug your pillow against your chest, looking to where Alastor sat just a few minutes prior.

The next day arrives, as you make your way down the stairs to the others. Charlie was right now explaining something to Angel and Husker, hyper as always. Vaggie was simply sitting on one of the couches with a book right now, while Alastor was nowhere to be seen. "Hey Vaggie, have you seen Alastor?" Leaning over the back of the couch now so the girl could see you as she looks over to you. "He went out rather early today, saying something about Overlords meeting and visiting a friend in Cannibal Town." Raising your eyebrows slightly at that, friend in Cannibal Town? Definitely Rosie. He probably decided to tag along with her a bit after the meeting, as she was also an Overlord. Thanking Vaggie, you go over to the other three to let Vaggie read her book in peace.

"Okay and then when Heaven agrees we could- Oh good morning!" Waving to you immediately now as Charlie noticed you coming over. Greeting them all with a smile and good morning now before Charlie starts to ramble on about her plans. It was nice seeing such a hyper and happy girl in hell, it was definitely a change to how people normally were down here.

"By the way sweets, would you mind tagging along to the city today? I wanted to go visit some clothing stores you would definitely like!" Angel laid his hand on your shoulder now as he asked you, before even thinking you agreed. It had been a while since you had last been to the part of Pentagram City where all the clothing stores were located. Besides Alastor isn't here today to try any of your attempts to see his tail nor to play with his ears. After quickly getting changed, Angel led you to the stores he was talking about. And he sure was right, you found so many good clothes to your liking in many different styles. One thing hell didn't lack was good fashion, probably thanks to Velvette from the Vees.

Leaving the store now with a lot of bags in hand, Angel decided to pull you to his favorite > cheap yet delicious < restaurant as he called it. While looking around a bit, you couldn't help but notice a certain red-haired demon walking down the streets, alongside Rosie, as their arms were hooked together, laughing. You knew they were simply good old friends, yet you couldn't do anything about this weird feeling bubbling up in your stomach. Reaching your hand out, you softly tug on Angel's shirt, head hung low. "What's it, sweets? Ya suddenly don't seem so good." His hand softly raised your chin now to look at you, noticing your pained expression. "Are ya hurt?" Taking a good look at you to make sure you weren't visibly hurt anywhere. Raising your head again, your eyes on the two other demons, Angel's eyes follow yours before letting out a sight.

"I know they're only friends but.. I feel weird seeing them I don't even know why myself!" The bag you were holding dropped to the ground, before hiding your face in your hands. "Sweets, if you ask me that sounds as if ya're jealous.." Angel's hand softly patting your head now as you raise your head, eyes meeting his. "But.. That would mean.. And he would never reciprocate.." Tears were building up in your eyes, before you knew it Angel pulled you into a comforting hug, softly patting your head. "It's going to be okay sweets." Staying there for a good minute or two, before you calmed down again. What you didn't see was a certain dial eyes watching you, as Angel had his arms around you and your body against his chest.

Deciding to head back to the hotel for now, Angel said he would take you to the restaurant another time. Back at the hotel you for now decided to head back to your room for a little rest. The shopping bag is thrown onto a chair before flopping down on your bed. A sigh leaves your lips. The last few days really weren't the best for you and were slowly wearing you down.

"Say dear, I thought we had a deal of you not touching others~" A radio static voice suddenly sounded through your room, sitting up you looked around frantically, eyes stopping on a dark corner of your room. Red eyes watching you, a shadow figure beside them grinning at you. Before you could know it, your body was pressed to the bed with Alastor on top of you. "W-What do you mean!? Angel was simply comforting me! Besides you were also all over Rosie!" Thrashing around now, as you try to push Alastor off of you, but he was simply too strong for you. "Oh, so you're jealous sweetheart? Was that payback then?" Alastor head was lowered as he whispered those words into your ear making your eyes grow wide. "He was comforting me because I was crying! Which I by the way was because of you!" Staring into your eyes now, Alastor was at a loss for words. You were crying? Because of him on top of that? Before he knew it, he watched your eyes fill with tears again daring to flow over. Now he had fucked up this time.. Again.

"D-Don't cry! Dearest I'm sorry." Scooting off of you now, he sits beside you not really knowing what to do, he never had to deal with someone besides Niffty crying. And Charlie, but that was a different story. Your hands rubbing over your eyes now, trying to get rid of the tears. Before you knew it, the culprit of your tears grabbed your hand, leading it to his head. Alastor wasn't great with words to comfort you, but this was his way of trying to comfort you after screwing up, which you deeply appreciated. Looking up at him now, eyes red from crying, as your hand starts to softly rub over his ears. "I meet up with Rosie to ask her for advice on what to get you as an apology for last time." Pulling out a little box from his coat now, he hands it to you. Sitting up, you take the red box from his hands, opening it slowly. Inside was a gold necklace with a red pendant in a tear shape. "It's beautiful.." You were at a loss for words right now, you didn't think he would get you something like this as an apology. "Let me put it on you dearest, turn around." Moving yourself now that your back is to him, you softly move any hair out of the way so he can put the necklace around your neck. Hand reaching down as you take the pendant between your fingers. "Thank-" Your words were interrupted by a soft kiss being pressed to your neck, but as you turned around, Alastor was gone, and only caught a glimpse of his shadow disappearing. Hand reaching to the place you had felt him kiss. Did you only imagine that? No, he definitely kissed your neck.

The next day you wanted to ask Alastor about it, but he was nowhere to be seen, as if he was avoiding you, which made you a little bit sad. Did he regret it?

Till now you also were not able to accomplish your victory in this little game. Making yourself question if you were ever going to figure out if he had a little deer tail. Turning around now, you caught a glimpse of red hair disappearing, making you dart right after him. So he truly was avoiding you! Before he could close his door, you put your foot between the door and the doorframe. "Open the door, I won't go away!" It took almost a whole minute for him to open the door, entering the room, the door is closed behind you. Crossing your arms in front of your chest now, you turn around to face Alastor now. "Are you avoiding me?" Static radio error. "Of course not dear! Why should I?" He was obviously more than nervous to be talking to you right now. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because since yesterday you've been running away from me and not shown your face once?" Looking at him skeptically now, he tried to look composed as always with his smile, but you noticed how his smile was slightly strained and his hand clenched just a bit tighter around his staff. "If this is about the kiss and you regret it just say it please, I won't be mad at you." Your eyes were avoiding his now. Oh if only you knew it was the complete opposite.

"Listen dear, it's not that.. It's.. How do I say, rather the opposite? I have been feeling rather drawn to you, wanting to get closer but.. I don't quite know how to handle these emotions." For once Alastor looked nervous, something you had never truly seen on him, he seemed so unsure. Holding out your hand, waiting for him to perhaps take it, which he did. Eyes locked on your hands, as he was softly playing with your fingers, slowly linking them together. "Listen it's okay, take as much time as you need to figure this out okay?" A soft smile was on your lips now, trying to reassure and calm him, but it had quite the opposite effect on him.

"May I kiss you?" Blurting those words out without even thinking about it, both of you were staring at each other with blown eyes now. You question yourself if you heard correctly and Alastor questions his sanity by asking you this, was he completely going crazy now? "If you want to, I allow you to do anything you want, I trust you." Now this surprised him, he indeed wanted to try this but.. he had never kissed anyone before. Not while alive, and certainly not while dead. Slowly his hand lays on your cheek as he pulls you closer to him, angling your head so you are looking at him. Your hands softly grab onto the front of his coat, eyes closed to give him full control. Alastor could either take his time or pull away entirely, it was all up to him, you let him go at his own pace.

And before he knew it, he was leaning down to capture your lips in a soft kiss. It felt different than he had imagined, it felt warm and comforting. It was a simple soft peck, nothing too spectacular, but for both of you, it was something special. When he pulled away again and you looked up into his eyes, you noticed movement behind him, your eyes lowering and noticing something moving under the backside of his coat. Eyes glancing with interest now, Alastor's eyes following yours to what you were looking at, a sigh leaving his lips. Before you knew it, Alastor was shrugging his coat off, his shadow hanging it somewhere in the room. And there it was, a fluffy deer tail, that was right now softly swishing from side to side, it was adorable. Alastor was a sight right now. His ears were pointed towards you, a blush over the bridge of his nose while his tail swished from side to side.

Reaching out your hand to touch his tail with sparking eyes, his hand stops yours as he watches you. "Once. It's different than my ears, one pat and that's it darling." Nodding in agreement, he turns around a bit as your hand softly pats over his tail once. It was soft just like his ears. Looking up with a smile now, his head was turned to the front, but his ears were turned to your direction, which looked super adorable. "Well since I was only allowed to pet your tail once, I would like to pat your ears again!" Smiling up at him innocently now, he exactly knew how this would end.

And he was correct, he was now lying on his bed with you, his head on your stomach as you were contentedly playing with his ears. Even though it would probably take a while till both of you knew how to call this relationship, you were more than happy that your one hand was busy patting his ears, and the other one was softly held by the red-haired man. You could get used to this.

┌───────────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

Taglist :

@mysticwitchcraftco @biromanticboba @yellowelectroslime

[petersluvbug]

Baby, I Loved You First

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・

⇨ 「pairing— bff!bob reynolds x fem!reader」

⇨ 「summary— bob’s been your best friend since you met him in the vault; you had an instant connection. he’s always been in love with you, but you’re too oblivious to see it, dating guys who don’t love you like bob does. but after months of watching and listening to you go on dates with random guys, bob finally has enough and tells you how he feels. what’s even better?? a storm brews in while he walks you to your date’s house.」

⇨ 「a/n— first fic on this account whoop whoop!! i’ve been obsessed with lewis pullman and thunderbolts* so i had to write for him. i haven’t written in a while so i’m a bit rusty pls bare with me. also this is kinda based on Loved You First by One Direction. i hope you enjoy!」

⇨ 「warnings— both think it’s unrequited (it’s definitely not), reader is OBLIVIOUS (but so is bob), slight mention of bob’s childhood, past addiction, & alcohol, bob’s HELLA jealous, angst, cursing, yearning!bob, fluffy ending yay!!, and i think that’s it」

⇨ 「word count— 5.5k」

You tried to sneak out of the tower unnoticed, you really did. But Bob caught you before you could even get near the elevator door, stopping you in your tracks. Geez, it was like he has a sixth sense or something.

“Where are you going?” He asked you nicely, not sternly or orderly, just politely asked you to see where you were going. You gave him a look, the look of I-know-exactly-what-you’re-doing and you weren’t going to give in. In his defense, he’s just being a good friend—your best friend—by looking out for you and making sure you’re safe.

“Out,” you responded, crossing your arms over your dress that was way too short in Bob’s opinion. You felt goosebumps crawl up your skin as Bob met your eyes and stared, and eyebrow cocked in suspicion.

He hummed, “Out… Where? Outside? It’s supposed to rain soon, I hope you know. You’ll get cold in that dress.” You rolled your eyes at him, he was being a smartass and both you and he knew it.

You scoffed, “No, doofus, out as in I’m going out. With someone.”

Bob felt a familiar feeling rise up his chest and in his stomach. He hated when you went out with random dudes who don’t even like you for you. They don’t know you like he does—don’t love you like he does.

The brunette went through every excuse to keep you here in his mind, but knew none of them would actually work. He still tried though. “Can’t you reschedule? Like I said, it’s about to rain, storm even, and it could be dangerous for you to go out.” Oh man, he was horrible at making up excuses. He struggled to find the right words to keep you here in the Watchtower with him, but they didn’t work. You really wanted to see this guy, apparently.

With a sigh, you walked over to Bob and rubbed your hand up and down his arm, “Thanks for your concern, Bob, but I’ll be okay. I can handle myself. Especially a little bit of rain.”

“But it’s gonna storm-“

You giggled, “Okay, I can handle a storm, Bob.” He sighed and looked down. There was no persuading you into staying home with him and he was finally starting to accept it. “I’ll be just fine, I promise.”

He nodded, still not meeting your gaze. “Is he picking you up, at least?” There was at least that, and it would ensure your safety which is all he cared about.

You sighed and shook your head, “No. He said it would be easier if I met him at his place so he would have more time to get ready.” Bob could hear the disappointment and embarrassment in your tone, not liking the idea of a selfish douche who won’t even pick up his date just because he needs more time to get ready.

“Are you serious?” The words flew out of Bob’s lips before he even had the chance to think about saying them. His eyes snapped up to yours, which were filled with an emotion he can’t read.

You gave him a nod, wishing you didn’t agree to go on this stupid date in the first place.

“Can I at least walk you there? I’ll leave before he sees me, I just want to make sure you get there safely.” Bob grabbed your hands that began to fumble with the fabric of your dress and held them gently.

Smiling, you nodded your head as blush crept up your cheeks and butterflies erupted in your stomach. “Of course you can.”

———

The walk to your date’s house was filled with a comfortable silence between you and Bob. There were people roaming the streets, making the usual bustle of a crowd, but it blended in the background as all you could think of was the brunette next to you.

As the crowd began to get bigger, Bob’s pinky finger found yours as you both waited for the crosswalk light to change, his heart rate picking up. Not only was he touching you, but he also hated big crowds. He always got anxious around big groups of people, always finding solace in the feeling of your pinky wrapped around his, grounding him that it’ll be okay and you were there. There with him. He’d rather stay inside all the time and avoid going out, but you dragged him out of his introvert shell without even knowing it. He would do anything for you, even if that meant being in a large crowd of strangers in the big state of New York.

“You okay?” You looked over to him with a soft look in your eyes, squeezing his pinky a little to reassure him.

He snapped out of his daze and looked down at you, “Y-yeah. I’m okay. This light is taking forever, though.” He puffed his cheeks, only making you let out a giggle. The sound of your laugh brings a smile to his lips, occupying his mind from his anxiousness with his favorite sound momentarily. He loved making you laugh, it made him feel special, and it meant so much to him.

The light finally changed, illuminating a little white silhouette of a person that instructed you to walk. The large flock of people began walking across the street, their moves quick and mindless of the others around them. You tugged Bob’s finger as you stepped onto the street, dragging him along with you to the other side.

Once you made it to the sidewalk, you looked over to Bob whose face was flushed and beat red—you assumed it was from the quick pace you were walking, but it definitely was not from that.

“That wasn’t so bad,” you spoke as the two of you strolled past stores and cafés and clubs that were surprisingly—but not really—still busy and filled with lively people. Bob nodded but stayed quiet, still following you as you turned a corner that led to a residential area.

The feeling of dread overwhelmed Bob; he knew that you were getting close to this guy’s house and hated the idea of leaving you alone with him.

This area was less crowded, you and Bob were actually the only people on this side of the street. There were a couple of others on the opposite side of the road, but where you walked it was just the two of you.

Silence filled the air around you both once again, but a loud clap of thunder broke it. Bob jumped slightly, unlacing his finger from yours to hold your hand. He hated storms, they brought back bad memories from his childhood and he always came to you for comfort during them. You remembered him telling you stories from his childhood after he got comfortable with you and trusted you, this fact being one of them.

You gripped his hand tight and tugged him closer to you, your arms pressed against each other like they were made to fit just like that. Bob let out a shaky breath as you continued walking, feeling his tense shoulders loosen a bit from your touch.

You were here. With him. It was going to be okay.

But soon you wouldn’t be with him. You would be with some random guy in his house, possibly even sitting on his couch while you waited for him to get ready. Alone. With him. Not with Bob.

He knew what he had signed up for when he offered to walk you to your date’s house. It would be pouring down rain by the time he dropped you off and walked back to the Watchtower, and even worse, it would be thundering and lightning. But he didn’t care about that. He was going to face his fears to make sure you were safe.

As you walked hand in hand, Bob couldn’t help but think of all the times he watched you go out with random men you met online or at a bar or whatever. He hated seeing you in the arms of someone else. Of another man. Another man who wasn’t him. He would see you kiss guys who don’t deserve your lips, dance with guys who don’t deserve to touch you, and get into cars of guys who don’t deserve you period.

He was sick of this. Sick of seeing your heart being taken away from him. It tears his world apart, and even worse, his heart in two. He should be the one feeling your lips on his. He should be dancing with you, even though he cannot dance whatsoever. He should be taking you on dates. He should be the one. Even though he doesn’t think he deserves it. Deserves you. Because no man could ever deserve you.

He beats himself up each day for not just telling you how he feels, but he didn’t want to ruin the great friendship the two of you shared. He couldn’t lose you, it would break him even more than watching you go out with guys who don’t actually love you.

Nothing could be worse than losing you.

Even though he loved you first and more than any other guy you dated could.

———

“Bob, you should just tell her.” Yelena’s voice spoke in his ear as he watched you dancing with some guy, his arms wrapped around your waist, hands slowly moving down your hips. God, Bob wanted to puke.

Valentina thought it was a great idea to throw a party at the Watchtower, and said it was “good publicity” for the New Avengers. The lights were dimmed and colorful lights were strung up all around the place that lit up the area. Lit up you on the dance floor and the stupid guy whose hands were sliding down a little too far for Bob’s liking.

Bob rolled his eyes with a sigh before looking down at his hands. He and Yelena sat at the bar with a perfect view of where you were dancing. He made sure to sit somewhere he could see you and make sure you were okay without disturbing your fun.

“I can’t. She doesn’t feel the same way about me,” Bob took a sip of his drink—a Shirley Temple with a few too many cherries it, just how he liked it. He didn’t drink alcohol, not since he had gotten sober from his drug addiction. He didn’t want to go down that road again.

Yelena scoffed and took a swig of her drink. “Bullshit, Bob.” She told him multiple times that she saw the way you looked at him, and that you most definitely felt the same way, but Bob never listened. He just couldn’t believe you would feel that way about him. No way. Why would you go out on so many dates with random guys if you did?

He didn’t answer her, only took another sip of his drink and chewed on one of the soft cherries as his gaze landed on you once again.

It should’ve been him dancing with you. He could’ve been where he is standing. With you and holding you so close that your bodies molded together like a completed puzzle.

It should’ve been him.

But it wasn’t.

———

The first time Bob saw you kiss a guy that wasn’t him, he felt his whole world crumble into a million pieces.

Since you were gone on a date, he felt brave and went out of the Watchtower all by himself to go to a nearby bookstore a few blocks down. He definitely didn’t pick it because it was right across the street from the restaurant you were at. Absolutely not. He wanted a certain book and it just so happened that the bookstore right across the street from you had it in stock. Definitely no other reason.

You had told him where you were going, just in case anything happened and you needed him. And he definitely did NOT force the information out of you before you left.

As he was checking out at the register with the book he came for and a few others, he peered behind the cashier and into the window to see if he could spot you. Gently grabbing the bag of books and his change from the cashier, he bid her a kind “Bye, have a nice evening.” and left the store.

His eyes finally found you, smiling and laughing at whatever your date was saying as you both made your way outside the building. He didn’t hold the door for you, and that made Bob scoff. He would’ve held the door for you. He would hold and do anything for you without being asked. But this guy didn’t.

Bob watched as the guy grabbed your wrist as you tried to start walking away. Walking back to the Watchtower. Back to Bob. He pulled you into his chest, and brought his lips to yours in an instant, his hands finding their way to cradle your head. Bob felt his insides explode in fire and fury as he watched you stand still with this guy’s hands on your head and lips on yours.

God, that should’ve been him.

He clutched the bag in his hand tightly as he watched you pull away from the kiss you and your date shared. He felt like a creep watching you like this, but reassured himself that he was just looking out for you. No harm in that.

Except there was. Watching you kiss someone else hurt. It hurt so bad because he knew that it would never be him kissing you. It hurt because you’ll never know Bob’s true feelings for you, and he knew you’d never reciprocate them.

That’s what hurts the most.

———

“Bob? Are you okay? You’re being kinda quiet,” your voice brought him back to reality. Brought him back from his torturous memories of you with other men.

He looked over at you as another clap of thunder erupted from the sky, “Yeah. I was just thinking about something, sorry.” He looked away from your concerned face and down at the concrete beneath his feet.

“Thinking about what?” You asked, but Bob immediately shook his head. He couldn’t tell you what exactly he was thinking about because he was thinking about you. Like he always was.

“Nothing. It’s not important,” he shook off, not wanting to discuss it anymore. You just nodded and went along with it, noticing how something was bothering him but didn’t push because it was obvious he didn’t want to talk about it.

After walking for a few more minutes, you finally stopped in front of what Bob assumed was your date’s house. His heart rate picked up once again, not ready to be alone without you with him.

“Well, this is the place,” you gestured to the building before you with your free hand. You turned to Bob with an appreciative smile on your face, “Thank you for walking with me, Bob.”

He felt a bittersweet smile form on his face, a soft nod as he spoke, “Of course, Y/n/n. Anytime.” You looked into his eyes as thunder boomed in your ears once again, making Bob squeeze your hand tightly.

“Are you going to be okay walking home?” You asked, silently communicating the fact that you know he hates storms and are concerned about him walking home alone in one.

He hesitated for a moment before nodding, “I’ll be fine.” You give him an unsure look, eyebrow raised. He laughed softly, “I’m serious, Y/n, I’ll be okay. If it makes you feel better, I’ll text you when I get back home.”

You sighed, “Please do.” He gave you a smile in response as you let go of his hand to walk to the door. His smile faltered slightly as the he felt the cool breeze of the nighttime air touch his hand when yours left it, wishing your soft, warm hand never left his.

He heard thunder again as he turned away and started to walk back the way you both came from the Watchtower, a familiar feeling settling deep in his stomach and chest as he walked away from you. He didn’t want to leave you here. He wanted you to come back home with him and spend the rest of the night watching movies and eating junk food until 3am.

As he began to move his feet in the other direction, away from you, his mind raced through all sorts of feelings and thoughts of you and what would happen if he told you how he felt. Maybe if he told you now, you wouldn’t step through that door to that guy’s house and go out on a date with him and possibly kiss him. The thought of that idiot kissing you irked him in so many ways to the point that Bob felt nauseous.

He couldn’t let that happen. Not again. He was so sick of this feeling, of yearning for someone who constantly puts themself through shitty dates in hopes of finding the one. Why were you searching for the one when he was standing right in front of your face this whole time?

The uncertain feelings that you didn’t feel the same way flooded him in that moment of thinking, however. What if he made a big mistake and ruined your friendship forever? What if he made it awkward between the two of you? God, he can’t lose you. He’d rather lose the world and anything else than you.

Before meeting you, he never understood what love felt like, receiving and giving. He never felt love from his parents in his childhood, so he didn’t know what it looked and felt like to be loved and cared about. And because of that, he never knew how to love either. He had a hard time trusting people, and always felt like a burden to everyone. But that changed when he met you.

From the first time your eyes met his, he knew that you were different from the others. From the very beginning, you had always been gentle with him and cared about his wellbeing and made him feel wanted. You had this soft twinkle in your eyes when you looked up at him, a look he hadn’t seen from anyone else. Maybe that’s what Yelena was talking about.

“I see the way she looks at you, Bob. She only has those eyes for you.”

Yelena’s voice played through his head as he thought about the way you looked at him and no one else. Maybe it wasn’t so crazy that you felt the same way about him. But he just couldn’t for the life of him wrap that thought around his head that you could actually feel that way towards him. He wasn’t lovable, didn’t feel like he was anyway. He’d done some bad things in his past, and he believed he didn’t deserve to be loved by anyone. Especially by you.

But he knew one thing.

That guy inside didn’t deserve you either, and Bob needed to do something about it before it was too late and too far gone. You would eventually find the one, and Bob wasn’t going to let that happen.

He had to tell you how he felt, and he had to tell you now. The rejection would sting and shatter his heart in a million pieces but maybe that’s what he needs to get over you and move on. He was terrified. He didn’t want to lose your friendship, but he knew if he didn’t tell you now, he never would.

So he did something he never thought he would do.

“Y/n, wait!” He quickly spun around as the words left his lips without thinking. You stopped your tracks at the top of the steps by the door, your finger hovering over the buzzer to your date’s apartment.

You felt nervousness wash over you, “Yeah?”

Bob sighed and clenched his fists tightly, “Don’t go in there.” God, what was he doing? He regretted opening his mouth, but there was no turning back now. His eyes met yours, which were filled with confusion as your hand dropped down to your side.

“W-what??” You didn’t know what was going on or what Bob was doing, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved when he stopped you. “Why not?” You finally mustered up something to say to a very nervous Bob.

“Because…” He started, but didn’t know what to say or how to say what he feels. You stood there waiting for his answer as another boom of thunder filled the city and lightning illuminated the sky. “Umm… never mind. It doesn’t matter. Forget I said anything. Have a nice date.” He quickly blurted out before turning around and walking away from you, his fingers fumbling with the end of his sweater.

You felt your heart sink a little before running down the stairs and over to Bob before he got too far. “No, wait!” You caught up to him and grabbed his arm, softly tugging him back to stop him and turn him towards you. You felt a cold drop of rain hit your forehead as he spun around, making sure to not meet your gaze. “Bob…” You brought your hand up to his chin to make him look at you, his eyes filled with a sadness that made your heart melt. “Why don’t you want me to go in there?” You asked again, but oh-so softly this time.

He looked at you with flushed cheeks and worry filling up in his chest. This was it. The moment he didn’t want to come because he would tell you his feelings and you were going to reject him and tell him you didn’t feel the same. This was the moment he knew he was going to lose your friendship. “Because I hate seeing you go on dates with guys who don’t care about you like I do.”

Your heart skipped a beat, rapidly beating up your throat as Bob spoke to you. He couldn’t possibly be implying what you think he was implying, right?

“W-what do you mean?” You had to ask, had to know what exactly he meant by that. Your heart needed to know even though it was most likely going to crush it.

You felt another raindrop hit your face. And another. And another.

He looked down, “I mean, they don’t care about anything but the few facts they know about you. They don’t know you like I know you.” The rain began to pick up, raindrops falling on your still confused eyes.

“I still don’t understand-“

“Of course you don’t understand!” Bob’s voice boomed, startling you from his abrupt loudness. His eyes weren’t soft and sad anymore, now they were replaced with slight annoyance. “All you do is busy yourself by going out on dates with random men who don’t know you or give a shit about you.”

You gape at him, his words kind of stung. The rain picked up and started flowing down a bit faster as you stared at him in shock. “I do not.” What had gotten into him?

He pushed his fingers through his now-wet brown locks, “Yes you do! You always tell me about how you’re trying to find the right guy or someone to make you happy. How are you supposed to find someone like that on a dating app? Those guys don’t care about you, Y/n.” The rain was pouring now, soaking your clothes and your hair that you spent over an hour fixing. You could tell Bob was getting angry, and this was a side you never saw from him. What happened to your sweet Bob?

“And how are you so sure, Robert?” Your cadence was laced with venom now. You tried to be calm, but his anger and hurtful words made you upset and frustrated. You never used his full name, it was always Bob or doofus. He didn’t like hearing Robert come from your lips, it sounded foreign.

He scoffed and rubbed his eyes, the rain water beginning to burn. He felt his tense shoulders start to loosen slightly, even though the stress was still present in his body. This was going nowhere, and arguing was not what he intended on doing at the very moment. He had to tell you what he meant to tell you now before it was too late. “They don’t deserve your time, Y/n. And they especially don’t deserve you.”

You gave him an incredulous look, “What are you saying, Bob?” You were confused, angry, soaked, and quickly losing your patience. You looked at him expectantly, urging him to answer your question before you turned around and buzzed that damn buzzer to get you out of the rain.

He pushed his wet hair out of his face once again before beginning, “I can’t stand watching you go on dates with guys who don’t care about your wellbeing. With guys who don’t know you like I do and don’t know your likes and dislikes. With guys who really only talk about themselves and never ask about what you enjoy. It’s so hard listening to you after each date talking about how selfish these guys are and then watching you go out with a different one the next day!”

He ran his hand down his face, wiping the rain off just for it to pelt down on it once again. “When are you going to see that the right guy is standing right in front of you?!” His breathing was heavy and short as he stared into your eyes, feeling the weight begin to lift off his shoulders. Your eyes widened.

“Bob…” You began, not knowing what the hell words were or how to form a sentence in that moment.

He shook his head, water droplets hitting your face from his wet hair. “God, I’m so in love with you.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in. He can’t look at your face right now, it would take every bit of confidence out of him. “Ever since we met and I looked into your eyes, I knew it. Even though I never understood what love felt like before, I realized that it was what I felt about you. I’ve loved you from the start and will till the very end. You’re the only person to make me feel like this and always will be. Even if you don’t feel the same way, my heart will always be yours.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt water fall down your cheeks. You couldn’t tell if they were tears or if it was the pelting rain, but you didn’t care. Bob put his feelings into words so beautifully it was poetic, making the butterflies in your stomach go crazy as you stared at the man in front of you. The right guy. The one.

He spoke the same feelings you had been feeling for a very long time now, feelings you thought he didn’t reciprocate. But he did. All of your constant overthinking and worry washed away at his confession, bringing you a certain joy that you thought you would never feel. The joy of being loved. The joy of being loved by Bob.

“Please say something,” his voice was low and laced with uncertainty. His eyes were open now but glued to the ground, watching the rain drops hit the puddles underneath your feet.

Your hand finds his chin, lifting it up to meet your gaze. There were tears in his eyes, you think, you couldn’t quite tell by the rain but saw the look on his face. He looked so defeated and dejected when he looked at you, expecting his heart to be crushed even more than it already was.

You brought your other hand to his face to cradle it like it was the most fragile thing in the world, a soft smile creeping up at the corners of your soft lips. “I’m so in love with you too, Bob.”

His eyes widened as thunder thrummed through the air once again, but the two of you barely heard it. You were both focused on one thing and one thing only, and that was each other. Your surroundings, the rain, the thunder, and even your date who was probably wondering where you are were silently in the background. Nothing else mattered except the two of you in that moment.

“You… you do?” Bob’s voice was still uncertain as his eyes flickered between yours and your lips. He needed to make sure he heard that correctly before he lost control of his senses and kissed the hell out of you.

You nodded, feeling Bob’s hands moving to tuck your wet hair out of your face before cupping it tenderly. “I’ve loved you since the day I met you.” Your forehead met his, both wet and cold from the pouring-down rain.

His eyes met yours, “Can I kiss you?”

“Of course you can, doofus.”

That was all it took for Bob to place his lips on yours and kiss you with such delicacy it makes you dizzy. It was slow and passionate, your lips moving and molding together in a way they were destined. You could taste the raindrops and salty tears on his lips and were sure he could taste the same on yours. The rain in the background created a wall around you and the only two people within those walls were you and Bob. His lips were so soft against yours, and it just felt so right.

You finally broke away from the kiss after what felt like hours of bliss and passion to catch your breath, just staring deeply into one another with a fondness no one else could give. The sound of the rain was the only one you heard, but there was still a comfortable silence between you two.

After a minute, Bob smiled and leaned in to place a tender kiss on your nose, “I love you so much.” His face was only inches away from yours but yet he still wasn’t close enough.

“I love you so much more,” your lips turned upwards as heat flushed your cold rain-soaked cheeks.

He hummed and shook his head, “Not possible.” Before you could speak up again, he leaned into your ear and his lips ghosted over it. “And you should probably cancel your date.” You could feel him grinning into your ear as you let out a giggle. He pulled away when you grabbed your phone out of your purse, sending a quick text to the guy before deleting and blocking his number.

You weren’t going on any other dates with random guys anymore. The only man who will be taking you out on dates from now on is Bob. And you couldn’t be happier.

———

“Hey, Bob, have you seen my-“ Yelena barged into Bob’s room, not even thinking about the fact that you might be in there before bursting through his door. “-charger.”

Her eyes were wide when she saw the two of you lying down on his bed with you on top of him and a movie playing softly in the background. Your lips were moving together slowly and passionately as Bob’s hands made their way up your back and to your hair, your limbs tangled with each other.

The sound of Yelena’s voice caused you both to snap your heads up and lips away from each other. Both of your lips were kiss-swollen and your eyes were wide, the looks on your faces were filled with embarrassment as you got caught making out with your boyfriend. Does anyone knock these days??

Yelena shivered and gagged, “You know what, I’ll just use Ava’s.” She then turned on her heel and slammed the door shut behind her, wanting to burn the image she just saw out of her brain forever.

With the slam of Bob’s door, you turned your head back to him and let out a flustered giggle. He grinned and laughed softly along with you, bringing his hands back down to settle on your hips.

Bob brushed your hair behind your ear with one hand, the grin on his swollen lips growing even bigger and eyes beaming up at you. God, did he love you.

You sighed, a smile still evident on your face and cheeks flushed bright red as you gazed down at him. “Yelena is never going to let us live that down.”

Bob chuckled, “Nope.” His hands traveled their way back up to their spot in your hair before pulling your face closer to his. “But I don’t care. I just wanna kiss you again.” And then he did, your lips met his again and moved and molded together like a puzzle that was finally finished.

His lips on yours felt so right in every way possible, and you couldn’t ask for anything better in your life. Because your life was complete, he was your missing puzzle piece. He was the right guy all along. He was the one.

[southernimpala]

midnight swim

sam winchester x fem!reader (ft. dean :)

summary ↬ you and dean decide to take a dip in the pool after a rough hunt, but sam takes a little convincing

notice ↬ super fluffy, the boys are actually happy for once, a lil suggestive, sam's just a shy boy in love and dean sees it but you don't (what else is new), first ever work for spn and i'm so excited to keep writing for them, no use of y/n, lowercase intended !

wordcount ↬ 1.8k

motel pools were always a disgusting concept to you. murky, unkempt water that was debatably properly chlorinated, bugs and dirty concrete. every time you saw one, it was always you shutting down dean’s feeble attempts at dragging you and sam in with him. 

but this one is different. 

it’s nothing five star, certainly no cleaner than what you’ve seen in the past, but after the grueling hunt—a couple of stubborn poltergeists and a bunch of flying knives—you’re in need of something to soothe your muscles. and a gross body of water certainly feels like the right thing to dip your aching feet into.

“i’m grabbing three towels from the lobby,” dean says, a childlike grin on his face. 

sam stops him, looking up from his computer, “just get two, i’m stayin’ in.” 

“what?” you and dean both say simultaneously. 

sam looks between the two of you with furrowed eyebrows, “is this a surprise to either of you?” 

you roll your eyes, “come onnnn, sam. we just got done with a case and you’re already looking for the next one.”

“that’s because i don’t wanna catch some disease just because i’m bored,” he bears that know-it-all grin that erupts butterflies in your stomach and twinges an incessant need to slap it off him at the same time. 

“just come outside and enjoy some—” dean glances at the window, “—moon—whatever—just don’t be a grouch and get out there!” he reaches for the doorknob, “i’ll meet you there. you, too, sammy!” 

when the door shuts you turn back around to sam and cross your arms over your chest, tapping your foot, “so, what’s it gonna be? coop up in here or hit a midnight swim?” 

 sam sighs, defeated, “fine, i’ll go out, but i’m not getting in.”

the moon glows full in the pitch black sky, blending with the gross neon motel sign, its flickering M and T painting the pool a vibrant blue. there are some questionable stains on the pavement, and one visible from the bottom of the deep end, but it looks swimmable enough. 

soft rock music plays from a speaker somewhere, wrapping you in an embrace of nostalgia and something so winchester. 

sam’s leaning back in one of the flimsy plastic pool chairs, kicking his feet up and placing his hands behind his head, “maybe you’re right, it is kinda nice out here.” 

“it’ll be even nicer if you get in,” you tease, fumbling with the button on your shorts. 

you swear sam’s eyes find their way to your figure, growing wider as you slide the denim down your legs, revealing the black panties you wear underneath. 

your cheeks tint crimson as you feel his warm gaze on you, and pretending not to notice, you pull your shirt over your head, now exposed from head to toe, your bra—which doesn’t match at all—suddenly feels too scandalous for a pool. and now your heart starts to beat quicker, and—

“got the towels!” dean calls from behind you, startling both you and sam. you turn around as sam clears his throat, shaking himself out of a trance, “swimming in jeans, sammy?” 

“very funny,” he responds, narrowing his eyes. 

when dean lays the towels down, he quickly strips into his boxers, not wasting a second before cannonballing into the still water. you follow shortly behind, your underwear clinging uncomfortably to your now wet skin. the pool's temperature is a relief from the muggy summer night air, goosebumps crawling up the parts of you not submerged. 

you can already feel your tight muscles loosening—and dean’s rough swimming pelting water at your back—so much so, you throw your head back in pure bliss. 

“feels nice, huh, sweetheart?” dean says, brushing up against your forearm.

you nod, shutting your eyes, “hmm… just what i needed.” 

suddenly, your head breaks the water’s surface, and you’re pushed under. your eyes snap open in shock, but all you can see is the blurry underwater. you can hear muffled shouting before your shoulders are free and you spring back up. you gasp, whipping your now drenched hair as you spin around to dean, laughing so hard his face is pink. 

“what the hell!” you yell, rubbing your burning eyes. 

he struggles through his laughter to get words out, “you were flailing around like a fish down there!” 

your mouth parts in annoyance, you want to be mad but can’t bring yourself to be. the sound of such rare happiness warms your insides, and you huff a laugh, “sam, tell your brother that he almost drowned me!” 

“i tried,” sam says, and that’s when you notice he’s now standing by the edge of the pool, a crease of concern lingering in his forehead, but the ghost of a smile on his lips. your stomach flips. “dean, you almost drowned her.”

 “maybe if you were in the pool, you could’ve saved her,” dean baits, and sam’s face flushes. 

he chokes on his words, “you’re ridiculous.”

“not as ridiculous as you’re about to look,” dean says, and before sam has time to question it, he’s being snatched into the water by the bottom hem of his ragged jeans. 

a wave of water crashes against your face, but you unshield yourself quickly to catch sam’s surprised expression as he’s drenched in wetness. his button down has turned a dark, damp blue, clinging to the outline of his pecks, and his perfect wisps of hair stick to his neck and cheeks. 

you can’t lie to yourself and say he doesn’t look so good dripping wet like that. 

“i swear to god, dean,” sam threatens, “i will drown you!” 

“try it, sammy!” dean swims to the other end of the pool to escape his brother’s wrath. you watch from the edge, leaning against the pool wall as sam attempts to speed up. his clothes are obviously weighing him down, so an idea sparks to you. 

you move through the thick water to sam, stopping him by reaching for the buttons on his shirt. as he opens his mouth to question you, you shush him, “you’ll be faster without these,” and try to put on a brave face as sam’s eyes bore into you so intensely you’re drawn to meet them. and when you do, it’s catatonic. breathless as your fingers idly pop each button loose, a shimmering glint of confusion glowing in his eyes.

he’s still panting aggressively from the shock of the water, his soft lips tinted blue. you try to avert your eyes to anything other than his, but staring at his mouth isn’t a good idea, either.

he keeps you looking at him, his brows ever so slightly furrowed in bewilderment at your sudden boldness, but once the last button threads through, you’re hastily shrugging his shirt off his shoulders. you want to get his jeans, but you can already hear dean treading closer. plus, you don’t know if you’re brave enough for all that.

“alright, go!” you shout, queuing dean to start swimming faster. 

it takes sam a minute to break out of whatever trance he was in—hell, you both were in—but eventually, he starts towards dean, grabbing him playfully by the shoulders and pinning him underneath, just like you were. 

lighthearted giggles escape you and sam as dean tries to lift his head up, “oh, what was that, dean? i can’t hear you under all that water.” he laughs.

sam catches your face from across the pool, matching your smile. something twinkles in his eye. you catch it before it fades when dean grabs sam from behind the neck, flipping him under, too. 

you swim closer, attempting to hold dean’s large frame while sam grapples under the weight of his brother’s strong hand. “let him go, you monster!” you yell playfully, jumping onto dean’s back to take him down. 

sam manages to pop up, gasping for breath but grabbing your slick arm to pull you off dean and into him. your cheek is squished against his broad chest, water clinging to your lashes. your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, the leather belt still worn rough on your legs, while your arms circle his dripping neck. you can feel sam’s adam's apple bob at the movement.

dean tries to get ahold of you, but sam keeps you tight, and to keep yourself from crumbling under the weight of your crush, you try to focus on dean’s feeble attempts at shoving you under again. 

“i call a truce!” you call out, twisting in sam’s grip, “my savior has come!” 

“oh, yeah, just climb him like a tree, why don’t you?” he pants, shaking his hair like a wet dog. 

“whatever works,” you giggle, and when you turn into sam’s face, he’s already looking at you, eyes hooded with something indescribable, scanning every inch of your face as rivulets of pool water run down your smooth skin. “right, sammy?” you try and say, but it comes out breathless. 

"yeah," he nods, and suddenly the feeling of his warm body on yours in the ever chilling water is too much to ignore, now that the playing’s died down, “whatever works.” 

after the three of you get out, you all shiver underneath the poor quality pool towels as you make your way back to the room. sam is dying to get his damp jeans off his legs, and you’re dying for one more second against him, to feel his heartbeat against yours. 

sam, insisting to shower first—”it wasn’t my choice to get wet,”—”whatever you say, sammy,”—leaves you and dean sitting your damp bodies on the floor against the far right bed. 

“i’m happy we got him out,” dean says after a moment of silence, save for the low hum of the AC and the shower running in the bathroom. 

“yeah,” you agree, leaning back tiredly against the mattress, “me, too.” 

“y’know,” he starts, sitting up further, “it’s been a long time since i’ve heard him laugh that much.” 

your eyes open to look at him, prompting him to continue. 

“he laughs that much when he’s with you,” he says, sending you a rare, genuine smile, “i see it.” 

your heart blooms in your chest, pulse loud in your ears, “dean—” 

the shower stops and the bathroom door swings open, startling the words right off your tongue, “what are you two talking about?” sam asks nonchalantly, rubbing a towel against his noodly hair, damp on his forehead. 

you open your mouth to answer, to say anything other than, ‘we were talking about you loving me, or, something’ but dean speaks before you can. 

“i was telling her not to forget getting your jeans off next time,” he says teasingly, and sam stops in his trek to grab pajamas. 

“fuck off, dean,” he mumbles, embarrassed, but you swear you see the corners of his lips turn upward, just slightly. 

dean winks at you, and before he gets up to steal the shower, whispers in your ear, “he’s so in love, it’s gross.” 

you believe him when you catch sam’s eye twinkling at you again as the bathroom door shuts.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ sam winchester masterlist !

[zugzwangdefeat]

"What if I asked you?"

steve rogers x gender-neutral reader.

SUMMARY. you can’t stop teasing steve about getting a date, so what happens when he finally tells you what he really wants?

FLUFF. one-shot [~1.3k].

WARNINGS. fluffy???IDK ITS JUST PURE FLUFF CUTESY TEASING STUFF!!!!

-

You nudge his arm with your elbow, boots propped on the table in front of you like you own the damn place. Steve doesn’t say anything about your complete disregard for furniture etiquette, which is surprising, considering he’s still 40% vintage manners.

Instead, he eyes you from the corner of his book, lips quirking like he already knows you’re up to something.

“So,” you begin, dragging out the word. “When are you gonna ask someone out?”

Steve blinks, slow and a little confused. “Ask who out?”

You gesture vaguely at the air. “I don’t know. Somebody. You’ve been back for years now. You’re a national treasure with a good jawline. The options are endless.”

He chuckles, low and skeptical. “That’s not exactly how it works.”

“Oh please,” you say, sitting up straighter, fully committing to the bit. “Let’s run the numbers. What about that nurse in med bay? The one who practically drooled over you after that concussion?”

“I had a gash in my forehead,” he says mildly. “I don’t think that’s an ideal first impression.”

“Right, because a man bleeding profusely is so unappealing.”

Steve laughs, eyes crinkling in that soft way that makes your stomach flutter and your brain scream danger, danger.

“Okay, fine,” you continue. “What about the girl at the coffee shop on 3rd? She gave you extra whipped cream and her number.”

He shrugs, just a little. “She seemed nice.”

“You didn’t call her.”

“She didn’t write her name.”

You stare at him. “So you couldn’t even attempt to call?”

“She wrote ‘Call me’ and drew a heart. What was I supposed to say—‘Hey, is this heart?’”

You snort, which makes him smile wider. He’s got dimples when he really means it. You’re not thinking about them. You’re not.

“Okay, okay,” you say, waving your hand like you're giving him a pass. “What about that woman at the VA group? The blonde one with the tattoo?”

He tilts his head. “You mean the one who said I looked like her dad?”

“...Right. Cross her off the list.”

You smirk and lean back again, pleased with yourself. “I’m just saying, Rogers. You’ve got options. You should use them. You’re like… the world’s most eligible bachelor. The rest of us mortals would kill for those stats.”

He closes his book, slow and thoughtful. “Is this your way of saying I should date more?”

“I’m just worried you’ll start collecting cats. Not that there's much of a problem with that…but you know you've gotta get out there!”

Steve huffs a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. His ears are pink, which is always a good sign—means you’re getting under his skin just enough.

“Alright then,” he says, almost too casually. “What about you?”

You grin, confused. What does he mean by that? “What about me?”

“What if I asked you?”

That makes you freeze. For a second, you think he’s joking—just another twist in the teasing. But his voice is softer now, a little hoarse, like it cost him something to say.

You raise an eyebrow, deflecting automatically. “What, you need me to vet your chances? Scale of one to ten, how dateable is Steve Rogers?”

He shakes his head, smile still there but smaller. “No. I mean, what if I asked you out?”

The room stills. You blink at him, heart kicking against your ribs like it’s trying to escape.

“Oh,” you say, brilliant conversationalist that you are.

“Yeah.”

You stare for a moment too long. Then you finally answer, albeit embarrassingly excited, “Wait, seriously?”

He looks down, sheepish. “I thought maybe I hadn’t made it clear.”

“Steve,” you say, laughing now. “I thought you were asking hypothetically. Like a test run or something.”

“Nope,” he says, popping the p. “That was the actual run.”

You sit there, stunned and borderline speechless, which is rare for you. Steve notices. Steve definitely notices.

“I didn’t mean to make it weird,” he says quickly, ever the gentleman. “I just… I like you. A lot. And if the only reason you’re teasing me about other girls is because you didn’t think I was interested—well. That’s not true.”

You blink again. “You like me?”

He chuckles, soft and a little nervous. “Is that really so surprising?”

“Kinda,” you admit. “You’re Captain America.”

“You’re you,” he says simply. “I think that balances it out.”

And just like that, your heart tips over like a dumb little domino.

“Well,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “In that case… what if I said yes?”

His smile blooms—genuine, boyish, and just a little smug.

“Then I guess I’d have to plan a date.”

You lean in, playful again but a little breathless now. “You already planning one in that overachiever brain of yours?”

“Maybe.”

You bump his shoulder again, softer this time. “Good. Just don’t bring up cats.”

“No promises,” he murmurs, eyes still on yours. “But I’ll try.”

And yeah—maybe you saw it coming. Maybe you didn’t.

But you’ll take this version of what if any day.

[musicalnobody]

The Ghost You Fed - Ch. 1

bunny hybrid!reader X cane corso hybrid!simon "ghost" riley ⋆ Call of Duty ⋆MDNI⋆ 4.2k words ⋆ 18+, explicit in future chapters ⋆ tags to be added as story progresses ⋆

⋆ pinterest board ⋆ AO3 link ⋆ next ⋆

Summary: Being a service animal is all you've ever known, being spoiled as a treat for all you do for your owner. So what happens when you see something, or rather someone, you can't have? (Inspired by 'it will come back' by hozier)

Tags: pov second person, no use of y/n, eventual smut, kind of icky simon, stalking, past character death, reader is so spoiled, drug dealing, dog fighting, breaking and entering, semi-public masturbation

A/N: WOOOO NEW FIC TIME!!! To give a little heads up, I will be using italics to indicate sign language between the reader and her owner. There isn’t going to much of a description for the reader, but your hair is fairly long, and your ear and tail color are mentioned, you are also chubby bc come on, a little old lady with a hybrid? She’s gonna fatten you right up. In this universe hybrids have ears, tails, and some have claws and canine fangs. Heats and ruts also exist within this universe but without the whole omegaverse thing. The rest you’ll figure out along the way!

Being a service animal was easy enough. Tell her when someone was at the door, translate when you were out in public, comfort her when she was having a rough day, and in exchange you got pampered. It truly was an easy life.

Agnes had adopted you when you were just a kit, only five years old. She wasn’t fully deaf at the time, able to start teaching you sign language at a young age. She was the kindest woman you had ever met. Her hearing had fully deteriorated when you were 12 years old. Crying for hours at a time when she finally broke the news to you, never being much of a tough one.

She still tried her best to teach you all that she could, cooking and cleaning as well as hobbies like reading, writing, and crocheting fun little projects. You were quite spoiled, and you knew it, having you own room but preferring to sleep at the end of Agnes’ large bed, having a whole closet filled with frilly outfits, getting to be paraded about outside.

Your crème-colored fur doesn’t get dirty anymore, baths becoming a part of your routines. Agnes brushes your hair afterwards, having you sit in front of your vanity while she does. You always feel so special when she does this, especially when she gently grabs your droopy ears to brush out as well, leaving them all fluffy for you. When Agnes starts entering you in beauty pageants, you’re over the moon, pleased that your owner thinks so highly of you. You learn tricks, you show them how competent you are, how nice your coat is.

You display the awards proudly in your room.

Despite being out so often, Agnes didn’t have many friends. Just a couple childhood friends who would visit every now and then, her kids living on opposite sides of the country. They would have tea parties, none of them having hybrids of their own so you were left to bask in their attention. The scratches at your ears and tummy were what you lived for.

You were never bad, always following the rules and orders around the house, helping when needed. You were an easy bunny to take care of, Agnes couldn’t of asked for better. You had gotten your service animal papers the day you turned 13, and Agnes had given you a frilly vest that she had hand-sewed so everyone would know that’s exactly what you were. You wore the vest until the day the seams ripped, and it wouldn’t go over your arms anymore. That’s when she made you a new one.

It was a rainy day, one reserved for baking. Today, you had decided to surprise Agnes with Manchester tarts, some of her favorites. These bite sized deserts had a shortcrust pastry shell spread with raspberry jam, covered with a custard filling and topped with flakes of coconut and a Maraschino cherry. They made the whole house smell like warm raspberries and pastry, something you certainly weren’t complaining about.

You sat up in your room, brushing out your hair after deciding what to wear. Since you weren’t going outside, you decided on a frilly pink top with flowers decorating it, a short white layered skirt with white bloomers under it, and two pink lacy garters sitting atop your thighs. You wore dangly earrings with pink raspberries on the end, as well as a pearl necklace with a matching charm that went well with your pink collar sitting around your neck, proudly displaying your name. You quickly put some mascara on and some lip tint, popping your lips in the mirror. A chill went up your spine and you flicked your eyes to gaze behind you in the mirror, attributing it to the wind from your open window.

You walk downstairs, seeing Agnes knitting you a pink and white striped sweater on the recliner. Going up to her and tapping her on the shoulder, you tell her what you’re doing.

“Going to make us treats today” You signed as you smiled. You watched as Agnes returned the smile and nodded, indicating that she was going to continue knitting. You skipped off to the kitchen, since you were a bunny hybrid, you were only about 5 feet, and that was on the taller side. This meant that you often had to use the stool to grab different ingredients. You looked behind you again as another chill went up your spine, but this time there wasn’t a window open. You chalked it up to the heating not being high enough after not seeing anything.

Throwing the flour, diced butter, white fat and icing sugar together, you began the pastry. Mixing in the water, you then let it set for 30 minutes, idly watching the tv. When the timer finally went off, you leapt up, running to the kitchen. You opened the window behind you so the kitchen didn’t get too hot when you turned on the oven, setting a towel in front so that rain didn’t get on the floor.

After pre-heating the oven to 190°C and putting the baking beans in the tart, you twirled around and put the tart in the oven for another 20 minutes. After taking the baking beans out and letting it cook for another 7 minutes, you took it out and spread the jam along the bottom, sprinkling the coconut atop of it.

You made the custard, boiling the mixture and adding vanilla to taste before pouring it through a sieve. You stirred it for a few minutes, letting it cool, before pouring it into the tart. You sprinkled the top with the rest of the coconut before setting it out and letting it cool. These desserts were something that Agnes had spent plenty of time teaching you how to learn, so much so that you could do it by heart at this point. You set the timer for four agonizing hours and then pranced over to Agnes, kneeling beside her chair to receive the occasional pet as you began your own little crochet project.

⋆🐾⋆

Simon had known the streets long before he knew the regimen of the military. When his mother had passed and his brother fell into drugs, he left. Hybrids like him weren’t treated too kindly, as he wasn’t easily trainable, he wasn’t as obedient and desperate to please like some of the others. Simon found spots in alleys, abandoned buildings, and the occasional hybrid-friendly motel if he saved enough money. But that never lasted long.

When the military found him, he’d had a run in with some old “tamers” that were trying to capture him, he had fought back and paid the consequence, long lashes scattering his arms and back. Price had taken him right under his wing. Teaching him how to be a proper K-9 unit, watching him surpass that and being let on the field without a handler. Being able to be trusted with gun. Everything was going great for Simon. Until the death of his best friend.

Soap’s passing had left such a vengeance in his heart that he was forced to be honorably discharged, they feared what a man like him would be able to do if set off. They had tried to get him housing but nowhere would take his breed. The only option being those damned trainers and underground hybrid fighting rings. Simon quickly realized he could make a quick buck by entering these fights. Learning that he didn’t need a handler when he already knew how to fight. He had plenty of offers, but always snarled at them, telling them to fuck off, that he knew what he was doing.

So, there he was, a world-class soldier now turned into a common stray. Resorting to illegal fighting and other ventures to line his pockets. There was a fresh bruise blooming under his eye, the last fight ending just a couple hours ago. Simon would find a place to sleep for a few hours before moving again, not wanting to stay in one place for too long.

When he woke up to the rain, it was just another day for him, though he noted he would have to stop by a laundromat for his current clothes, thankful for the extra outfit in his backpack. It was early in the morning when he was hopping the roofs of the city. Most of the lights down because of the weather. It wasn’t until he stopped to catch his breath that he noticed the house across the street.

A small baby blue house sat in his line of sight, a lamp illuminating a room on the second story. Having been perched at the far end of the building across the street, he crept closer to the edge. That’s when he saw it, or rather, you.

You were brushing your hair with a brush that looked straight out of the Victorian era, like you were a princess. You were sitting in front of your vanity in an outfit that had Simon snarling. The garters that were sitting on your thighs were things he wanted to take off with his own teeth. He sat there, staring at you as you brushed out your, oh. Oh. You were a little bunny hybrid. He hadn’t noticed your tail tucked under you before, or your floppy little ears until you pulled them out to brush. If your window wasn’t open, Simon would’ve started to howl, but for fear of scaring your owner, let alone you, he didn’t.

He watched as you shivered, ducked as you turned to look out the window. His call sign proving its significance at this moment, his ability to disappear within a blink of an eye. He peeked his head back up, watching as you left your room and bounced down the stairs, truly getting a grasp of how small you were. He groaned, long and heavy. You were perfect. Your skirt was tantalizingly short, bloomers covering what he wanted to see most.

When he lost sight of you in the living room? Well, it was time to move. He snuck down, thankful for the bushes that surrounded your house, and peered in. He noticed your hands moving animatedly until it actually hit him. You were signing. Your owner was deaf. Simon quickly thanked whatever God was out there that he had less of a chance of being caught if he was howling, less chance of getting caught when sneaking around. He watched as you went into the kitchen, moved to the window next to him so he could see you better.

Simon was aware this made him nothing short of a creep, but he was addicted to you. He watched as you stood atop your stool, watched as your body realized someone was staring at you while he ducked down. The thrill was enough to get his breathing ragged, grateful that there weren’t windows open next to him. Popping back up to watch you throw together the dough, hiding when you opened the window next to him. Staring intently as you waited right next to your owner, wanting it to be him giving you all the desperate pets you wanted. The smell of your baking was starting to become more prominent as you put the pastry in the oven.

He could smell the raspberry jam being spread on the tart, matching your cute little earrings that he was getting a close eye of. He watched as you sprinkled the coconut on the tart before starting on the custard. The smell was fantastic, and Simon had a pretty good idea of what you were making by now. A Manchester tart. He hadn’t tasted one in years. His mother had used to make them when he was younger, holiday dinners and such. He was damn near ecstatic when he realized that’s what you were making, already looking for the weak points in your house.

⋆🐾⋆

Waiting for the tart to cool was agonizing. No matter how much crocheting you could do or how much music you could listen to, you were moping around the house bored. Agnes took pity on you, looking down at you as you tapped your foot against the ground,

“Impatient, love?”

“I just know they’re going to taste so good!” You signed back, emphasizing your words by making fireworks with your hands. Agnes simply chuckled before ruffling your hair.

“Good things come to those who wait” Her famous line being signed as you went to lay back down, continuing your little project as you waited for the timer to go off.

When the timer finally pinged, you jumped to your feet. Grabbing the pie slicer, you cut the tart into 10 equal pieces, dishing out you and Agnes a piece. Grabbing your signature mini fork and handing Agnes her piece, you dug in.

Your teeth sunk into the tart, a happy noise coming out of your mouth, it was delicious. The buttery crust melted on your tongue, the tart raspberries pulling it together, and the coconut adding a hint of extra flavor. “It’s so good” You signed to Agnes as you continued to eat. Agnes simply smiled at you before grabbing a slice of her own, making her own noise of happiness when she sunk her teeth in.

“I think you’ve learned how to make it better than me.” Agnes signed back at you, a look of proudness on her face. You smiled, big and wide, happy to please your owner so much. This was the best Manchester tart you’ve ever made, and you knew it. Putting the rest in Tupperware and putting it into the fridge, you shut the door gently.

“I’m going to go take a bath!” You signed to Agnes before bouncing upstairs, opening the door to the bathroom. Opening the window a tad, you started to strip your outfit off, making sure you had 2 fluffy towels to welcome you when you got out. You started filling the tub with hot water, just a bit hotter than comfortable so it wouldn’t get cold too fast. The large claw-foot tub held you easily as you stepped foot in the hot water. You sighed heavily and swung your other foot over, gently setting yourself down.

You began your routine by shampooing your hair and ears, the strawberry shortcake scent starting to permeate the room. You lathered your hair until it was soapy, scrubbing at your ears gently. You went to rinse your hair and felt the familiar chill down your spine despite the water being hot. You wanted to close the window, worrying that that was the problem, but you know the room will get too steamy if you do, so you decide to leave it open.

You then moved onto conditioning your hair, the matching scent adding to the smell in the air. Your hair and fur instantly felt silkier, the bubbles now surrounding you. You grabbed your scrubbing brush and put your vanilla scented soap on it before beginning to scrub yourself down. Using your hands on more sensitive areas, you traced over the area lightly, mewling softly.

Draining the water and closing the window, you pattered over to your room. Putting on a cute little matching set with a sheer pink nightdress on top, you pranced around the house feeling like a princess. You skipped down the stairs to see Agnes. Who simply smiled at your appearance, your hair still drying.

“You look beautiful my dear.” You smiled right back at her, all teeth and giggles. You pranced over to the cabinets, once again grabbing the stool to grab one of your pink bowls with white bunnies all over it. You set the bowl on the counter before grabbing the tub of neapolitan ice cream and scooping 3 large spoonsful into your bowl. Putting the tub back before grabbing a spoon and glancing at what Agnes was watching

It was one of her soap operas, a tale of a hybrid and her handler who lived out in the country, escaping from the crime they were used to. In this particular episode, the avian hybrid was being approached by a large feline hybrid from the opposing organized crime group, you tried to avoid the screen, the scene starting to cause you anxiety.

“More sweets?” Agnes signed as she smiled warmly at you, making sure you knew she wasn’t being judgmental. You nodded, offering her a bite before trotting back upstairs.

Sitting on your bed watching tv, you were kicking your feet in the air as you shoveled spoonful after spoonful of ice cream into your mouth, letting out little mewls and moans at the delicious taste. The movie was just starting, an old silent fairytale that you had seen over and over. Despite the film being old, there were still hybrids in it, having them be the two helping hands that assisted the soon to be princess in getting ready. The scene made you happy, not often getting good representation in the media, hence why this was a comfort film.

But your mind started to become occupied with other things, the movie not holding your attention very well. You tried to write in your diary, writing about how you had baked for the day, coming up with ideas on how to modify the Manchester tart. You wrote about how nice your bath was, how you needed to get more bubble bath solution. You wrote about all the mundane things that happened throughout your day, talking about how you were excited for the summer trip only a few months away, really trying to wind down.

That was until a too familiar chill slipped down your spine again, and you had enough. You stomped overed to your window, thankful that Agnes wasn’t able to hear your steps, and glared out into the open sky.

“Will you stop that!” You said loudly, looking at the moon as the rain that had been pouring down all day continued.

⋆🐾⋆

Simon crept around the house for another hour, successfully finding the back door unlocked and a way to access the upper roof so he could peek into your window. He would come back once the Manchester tarts were done cooling off. For now, he had stuff to do. At least, that’s what he told himself as he tore his body away from the window.

He was a simple man; he had to make money somehow. At least, that’s what he told himself as he gave the next sorry soul another dose of whatever high they were after. If the military could see him now, they’d be ashamed, but pushing drugs was an easy and quick fix. It wasn’t weird to wear hoods that hid his ears and masks that obscured his face, especially when he was dealing with heat suppressants, some of the most illegal drugs on the market.

When hybrids first started appearing in the general market, heat and rut suppressants were encouraged, often being prescribed when a hybrids cycle was especially rough or aggressive. But as more side effects got added and other alternatives were created, they slowly withdrew from popularity, now only being used as heavy birth control. There were also multiple brands that were illegal, brands that Simon was all too familiar with.

While he also pushed “normal” drugs such as coke or weed, there was a much higher demand for suppressants. The more he sat and thought about his profession, the more he thought about you. Wondering if you even had a heat anymore, or if they took your glands away from you when you were deemed unfit to be anything more than a pet, yet another solution they had come up with.

Simon had been offered the surgery when he first entered the military, but he flat out refused. He didn’t like his ruts, as they often fell under the aggressive category, but he would often have someone accompany him or at least keep him locked up. He had found someone that he consistently spent his ruts with, and that’s when the military’s offer came to taunt him, asking after the death of—

He shook himself out of his train of thought, busying it with you again. How your room had been covered in bows and frills, pink and cream, florals, a princess’s dream. How although not in a great part of the city, your house was still perfectly put together. So fitting for the two of you. The yellow and white kitchen looked like it came straight out of a 1950’s nostalgic catalogue, and suddenly he was imagining himself behind you as you baked sweet treats for them.

He was yet again getting too far ahead of himself, hell, he didn’t even know your name. Strays like him weren’t welcome in homes like that, he didn’t have the manners to stay within that little home. He would sink his teeth in to rip and tear at the seams. He would destroy anything he touched. And with him not being a proper working dog, well he just couldn’t let you into this life. That’s when he decided he would stay far, far away from you. Watching you only when it was safe to do so.

After three agonizing hours of wandering around the city collecting clients and thinking to himself, Simon realized that he could return to your neighborhood, return to his bunny. Ducking into his position in the overgrown bushes, he watched as you placed the first bite into your mouth, hearing the faint sound of your overjoyed squeal at the success of the pie. Your voice was a melody he was already getting accustomed to, wanting to be the reason why those sweet sounds came out of your mouth.

He watched as you finished your slice of the tart before signing something to Agnes and bounding up the stairs. It was his time to strike. Pushing open the window his was ducked under, Simon hastily climbed into the kitchen, his hulking body making too much noise for his comfort, once again grateful for Agnes’ lack of hearing.  He quickly swung open the fridge door to grab one of the Tupperware containers before dipping right back outside.

It wasn’t until he made his wander into the backyard that he realized what you must have signed to Agnes. A bath. You were bathing yourself. He couldn’t see much from the backyard, thanking the cramped alleyways of Manchester allowing him to climb the roof of the house behind yours. Giving him a perfect view into— Oh.

The bathroom window was slightly ajar, enough for the faint smell of strawberries to drift over to Simon’s nose and fuck was he already planning how many pups he was going to give you, wondering if they would be little kits or pups, wondering how you would look so round and— Christ you had a way of doing that to him. Making him space out and dream about realities that could never happen with a mutt like him. Not someone so dirty. Nor someone so depraved.

He watched as you washed your hair, taking extra time with your ears, not being able to rip his eyes off you. He glanced away when you washed your body, still wanting to be respectful to you, but you made it difficult. The second he smelled that sweet vanilla body wash he came undone, writhing on the roof before tearing himself away from the picture of you, finally giving you privacy.

He walked back to the house that was across the street, perching on that roof as he ate the Manchester tart. He had to bite his tongue from letting out an overjoyed howl at the first bite, it instantly bringing him back to his childhood. He devoured it in only a couple bites, not having the patience to savor the treat. He would have to remind himself to take another slice tomorrow, before the two of you ate it all.

When he was finished with the tart, he glanced into your room, only to be shocked to see you sprawled out on your stomach in a sheer pink nightgown, kicking your feet back and forth as you ate your ice cream, one treat not enough for you. He growled quietly; you looked simply divine. Cream colored bikini cut underwear with rows of frills caressing your ass, a matching bralette holding in your pretty tits. The sheer nightgown did little to cover you, having little accents of cream-colored lace as well. It just barely covered your ass, leaving so little to the imagination that it had Simon fuming.

But then you were writing in that diary, and all Simon could think of was those pouty lips around him, how silky your hair would be around his calloused fingers, how soft your skin would be. And when you called out into the night? Trying to get his prying eyes off you? Well, he just couldn’t stop himself from cuming right into his hand, wishing he had cum into your pretty little mouth instead.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

taglist:

@hughjackmanadict

[raevpng]

mine, always

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

masterlist

summary: azzi helping paige pack up her dorm, and maybe an exchange of jewelry for a much needed pick me up

a/n: azzi wearing that 5 necklace yesterday ACTUALLY made me crash out, you know i needed to write about it 😵‍💫 i hope you guys enjoy this short and quick fluffy one shot and once again let’s all say thank you to azzi for once again single handedly shutting down the bsf allegations 😻

—

the dorm looked strange half-empty, like it couldn’t decide if it was still paige’s or already a memory. boxes lined the walls, some open and overflowing with uconn jerseys, shoes, old team posters—and others half-sealed, a chaotic reflection and reminder of the last five years paige has spent making this place her home.

azzi pushed open the door, keys jingling as she stowed away her keychain with paige’s spare key. she remembers when she had gifted it to her – azzi in her freshman year still trying to settle in the uconn dorms, sifting through different boxes trying to find her belongings. paige, still her best friend, was helping her unpack and build shelves. she remembers paige whining for a break to order some food, she remembers how her heart fluttered unfairly at how hot the blonde looked with her sports bra and casual pajama pants, shaking away those thoughts like they were dangerous, a threat to her familiar life. she remembered them sitting on the floor, surrounded by cardboard and mess, when paige suddenly perked up, remembering the weight in her pocket.

“i got something for you,” paige smiled, her statement raising suspicion from the brunette as she raised her eyebrow in a silent question. “it’s nothing big, but i just wanted you to have this.”

paige pulled something silver out her pocket, taking azzi’s hands gently to place the key on her palm, skin tingling where they touched.

paige almost looked shy, a light pink spreading across her cheeks to her neck, “i just thought, now that we’re together again and clearly, my persuasive recruiting paid off–” she smirked earning a fond eye roll, “i thought it would be nice to give you a key to my place. something to say we made it here, together.”

azzi remember how everything fell into place for her then, the oh moment when she realised she wanted to spend her whole life seeing paige with that pretty pink blush, to be this close to her she could smell the aroma of paige’s laundry detergent on shared hoodies, and to just be with her – the cause of the fluttering in her stomach and the unbearable desire to pull her closer. it all made sense now, those cheesy storylines in all those romance novels she read, the lyrics in the love songs she blasted. it was always paige. always was and always will be.

and now here she was, helping her girlfriend pack her life in boxes once again. and this time, she was gonna be gone, far away from her, and azzi didn’t know if she could do it.

she padded over to paige’s room, the soft hum of her playlist playing over her purple speakers, and azzi couldn’t help but pause at the sight– just for a second, to watch. paige was kneeling on the floor by her bed, hair in that messy bun and glasses combo, sleeves pushed up, tongue poked slightly out in concentration as she battled a stubborn drawer. azzi’s heart fluttered at the sight of her now girlfriend, so casual and so hers.

“need help?” azzi called lightly, leaning on the doorway.

paige startled, almost smacking her head on the bed frame. “god– baby! you almost gave me a heart attack!”

azzi dropped her bag on the floor with a laugh, sauntering over to kick the drawer with a light smirk, “so you win a natty, and managed to be the top pick in the draft, and disassembling ikea furniture is where you draw the line. cool.”

“okay first, rude.” paige rolled her eyes in faux annoyance, but standing up anyways to pull azzi in for a quick kiss, “second, bro i swear. ever since i got this in freshman year it wouldn’t open or shut properly. it hates me.”

azzi laughed loudly, leaning in to kiss the pout away from paige’s lips who instantly perked up at the affection, “well now i’m here sooo, what do you need me to do?”

they got to work— sort of.

azzi got to work handing paige some folded shirts, deciding to steal a few to herself, making the blonde roll her eyes fondly. azzi claimed they were hers, but she knew they weren’t, she just needed more of paige’s scent and belongings in her closet, and she tried to ignore the slight pain in her heart that reminded her this was all fading away scarily fast. paige tried to be on task, clearing out her desk of her little momentos – an old wristband from one of their team events, a photo booth strip of her, kk, and ice, a basketball squishball a fan had gifted to her in one of their games, but she too got distracted by all the memories and got distracted reenacting the silly but heartfelt memories to her girlfriend.

azzi laughed and teased and tucked herself closer to paige every chance she got, but underneath it all, she couldn't help but feel the sting in her heart grow, and the creeping weight in her chest feel more noticeable. every box taped shut felt heavier, every poster and photo stripped from the walls felt more painful, and every empty corner of the room felt like a goodbye inching closer.

“you okay?” paige asked once, catching azzi’s face as she stared quietly at the now-bare walls.

“mhm,” azzi lied, quickly handing her a hoodie to pack.

but paige spent all her teenage years memorising that pretty face to be fooled, she’s seen every side, every emotion, and every facade azzi managed to throw her way. she could tell from the slight furrow in her eyebrows, the downturn of her lips, and the soft tone of her voice that something was there, and she was ninety percent sure it was the same feeling in her chest too.

by the time they collapsed on the bed– one of the only things still intact, the silence had stretched, filled with all the things neither of them wanted to say out loud. azzi lay on paige’s chest, nose buried in the fabric of her soft hoodie, trying to commit the smell, the softness of her girlfriend’s touch on her waist, the way stray blonde pieces framed paige’s face. everything she was gonna miss soon.

paige sat up slowly, running a hand through azzi’s freshly washed curls, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. her heart ached seeing azzi like this, knowing she felt the same fear of distance, of change, of missing each other in ways they hadn’t before.

“hey,” paige said gently. “stay there a second. i’ll be right back, okay?”

azzi blinked up at her as paige crossed the room swiftly to her desk. she rummaged through the top drawer, the only drawer they haven't cleared out yet, then returned, something delicate glinting in her hand. paige sat back down beside the younger, a light pink dusting her cheeks in the same way azzi remembered years ago in her, her heart stuttering the same exact way.

“i was gonna wait till later,” paige murmured, almost shy, “but, now seemed like a good time for something to cheer you up.”

she held out a thin gold chain, and hanging from it were two tiny, simple charms: the number 5 and a heart.

azzi’s breath caught.

“paige–”

“i know it’s a little cheesy,” paige rushed to explain, “a fan actually gave this to me a few months ago and i instantly thought of you.” she smiled, so shy and soft in a way that made azzi’s poor heart melt. “i don’t know, i just thought it’d be nice for you to have something near your heart. a reminder that i’m always yours.”

azzi reached out with trembling fingers, letting the necklace pool into her hand. it was small, almost weightless. but it felt huge.

“while i’m away in dallas and you’re still here, killing it as usual,” paige praised her subtly making azzi let out a tearful giggle, “you’ll have it and…well basically my entire hoodie collection.”

azzi laughed, still at a loss of words.

paige’s hand found the back of her neck, fingertips brushing gently. “turn around?”

azzi turned instantly, pulling her curls to one side. paige carefully clasped the necklace around her girl’s neck, placing a careful kiss at the expanse of smooth skin watching as goosebumps arose.

when azzi turned around with glassy eyes and a wobbly smile with her fingers clutching the charms like it was her lifeline, paige’s heart couldn’t help but practically crack open at the sight, a wave of sadness and love washing over her.

“you’re such a sap,” azzi managed, voice thick.

“yeah, but you love me anyway.”

“unfortunately,” azzi teased, sniffling through a smile.

paige chuckled and leaned in to press a kiss to her temple, but azzi suddenly pulled back with a look of faux seriousness.

“wait, i have something for you too” she said, reaching for the side pocket of her duffel bag. she dug around for a second, then pulled out a brightly colored beaded bracelet.

paige squinted. “is that–”

“yeah,” azzi said proudly, holding it up. “made it last week after the championship when i couldn’t sleep. i was gonna save it for the airport, but… fair’s fair.”

paige felt her heart soften impossibly, feeling tears sting her own eyes, “azzi, baby…”

azzi settled beside her once again, “it’s blue and green. for uconn and dallas,” she continued, slipping it around paige’s wrist delicately, “then i put a little pink heart for us.”

paige blinked, watching her fingers move.

“this feels like highschool all over again,” she laughed softly, azzi joining her in giggles.

“exactly,” azzi smirked. “perfectly on brand for us if you ask me.”

paige looked down at the little beads, now tied securely on her wrist, her thumb brushing over the knot. “i love it,” she said honestly. “you made this? for me, az?”

“yeah!” azzi beamed, “and now it’s official. anyone looks at you too long, you flash the bracelet. mine. taken by azzi fudd. very unavailable.”

paige let out a chuckle of disbelief, feeling so lucky and so in love she could burst. “you are so dangerous,” paige muttered, dragging her into a kiss.

they melted into it instantly, azzi’s hands finding her familiar place on paige’s neck, pulling slightly at the loose strands of hair paige missed in her messy bun. trailing hands found their way to azzi’s waist, her shirt that paige was pretty sure was originally hers sliding up as her fingers trace shapes on her bare back, making azzi sigh into the kiss. paige only deepened it, unbearably soft and lingering and full of all the things they didn’t say when they were busy being sarcastic. when they pulled back, they didn’t go far.

azzi rested her forehead against paige’s. “promise you’ll wear it?”

“every single day,” paige whispered, brushing their noses softly. “you’ll wear the necklace?”

“obviously. i have a number one fan position to maintain.” she teased, a surge of pride and fondness filling paige’s chest as she laughed.

they sat there for a moment longer, the light filtering in through the window, their matching gifts catching the sun in quiet flickers.

cause at the end, it’ll always be them.

and that’s all they needed.

[vaginalvr]

First of all I LOVE your writing you’re seriously so talented

I was wondering if you could do a fix where Post prison Spencer just wants to spoil his girlfriend? You can make it smutty or fluffy I don’t mind at all!! ❤️❤️

HELLO this is delicious, also I'm thinking about starting a sugar daddy!spencer series, lmk what you think

cw: post-prison Spencer, emotional intimacy, soft dom!Spencer, worship kink, oral sex (f receiving), gift giving, love-drunk Spencer, desperation, clinginess, praising, creampie, established relationship, smut with feelings

REQUESTS OPEN!

You open the front door, expecting silence.

Instead, you’re met with soft jazz, candlelight, and the warm scent of something baking. A table near the entryway is stacked with pale pink shopping bags — your favorite boutique, the one Spencer used to scoff at for charging $80 for a tank top.

But the sight of the logo now makes your heart ache.

He’s home.

“Spence?” you call out, dropping your keys.

He appears around the corner, barefoot in sweats and a black tee, hair still damp from a shower. His eyes soften instantly at the sight of you. “Hi, sweetheart.”

Before you can respond, he crosses the room and wraps you in his arms — tight, grounding, desperate.

Like he needs to make sure you’re real.

Like he still thinks he might wake up somewhere cold and steel-barred.

Your voice is muffled against his chest. “You didn’t have to do all this…”

“I wanted to.” He leans back to look at you, brushing your hair behind your ear. “I missed so much. Couldn’t buy you things. Couldn’t touch you. Couldn’t give you anything. Let me catch up.”

You start to protest, but he stops you with a soft, pleading kiss.

“Let me spoil you tonight.”

You try to unwrap the gifts one at a time, but he’s too excited — pulling out soft knit dresses, delicate silk bralettes, perfume he remembered you tried once in a department store a year ago.

“I know it’s materialistic,” he murmurs. “But I just—I needed you to have things. Nice things. That make you feel loved.”

“You make me feel loved,” you say softly.

His eyes flicker down to your mouth. “I need to show you.”

He kisses you again — slow, deep, hands sliding up your thighs, your waist, cradling your face like he’ll never get enough.

Later, you’re on the bed, wearing nothing but the sheer black bralette he couldn’t stop staring at in the store. His hands shake as he touches you — not from nerves, but from the sheer ache to be gentle.

He trails kisses down your stomach. “God, I missed your skin,” he whispers. “I used to dream about it. Couldn’t even jerk off in there—just had to remember. Had to picture your thighs around my head like this.”

You gasp as he spreads your legs and settles between them, reverent, hands warm on your hips.

“Let me eat you, baby,” he whispers. “Please.”

You nod, and his mouth is everywhere — tongue soft and wet, circling your clit slowly, like he has all the time in the world. He groans when you moan, hands tightening on your thighs.

“So good,” he mutters. “You taste so fucking good. Missed this pussy so much. Thought about it every night.”

You tangle your fingers in his curls and cry out when he sucks harder, flicking his tongue just right — and when you come, his grip tightens and he doesn’t stop until you’re trembling.

He kisses your thighs through the aftershocks, eyes glazed. “You okay?”

You nod, breathless. “Come here. Need you.”

Spencer strips quickly, and when he’s above you, cock hard and flushed, he takes his time lining up — kissing your forehead, then your lips.

“I love you so much,” he whispers, voice breaking. “You waited for me. You stayed.”

“I’ll always stay,” you say. “Now fuck me, Spencer.”

His groan is broken and hoarse.

He sinks in slow — inch by inch, filling you completely. You both moan when he bottoms out, foreheads pressed together.

“God, you feel like home,” he murmurs. “Missed this so bad. I’ll never go that long without touching you again, I swear.”

He thrusts deep and steady, hips rocking, and your moans mix with his gasps — the kind of sound that only comes from months of deprivation. He mutters the filthiest things through soft kisses — how you were all he thought about, how he wanted to fuck you every day, how he’s going to spoil you forever now that he’s back.

You cling to him, wrapping your legs around his waist, and whisper, “Come inside me. Please. I want to feel you.”

He groans your name like a prayer and slams into you harder — just a few more deep strokes before he’s spilling into you with a choked cry, shaking above you, whispering thank you thank you thank you into your neck.

Later, he spoons you close, both of you still bare and messy and warm.

“I know it doesn’t fix anything,” he murmurs. “Gifts. Sex. I just… I need you to know how much I love you. How grateful I am.”

You reach back to hold his hand over your stomach. “You don’t have to prove anything. You’re already enough.”

He kisses your shoulder.

Still, when you wake the next morning, there’s a warm croissant on your nightstand. Your favorite coffee. And a tiny velvet box with a note that just says:

“More soon. Yours always. —Spencer.”

[gf2bellamy]

Can I request something about Spencer Reid being scared that he's going to forget about the reader ever since his mother got diagnosed with Alzheimer so he starts to write down all of the moments they had together so he doesn't forget her (they're not in a relationship yet) one day on the jet back home she sees him writing down stuff so she decides to snoops in when he falls asleep (nosy) but he catches her and then they kind of just melt into confessing their feelings to each other and it's fluffy at the end

memories — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: alzheimer is not exactly mentioned but more so implied , a tiny bit of angst , reader burns her hand on hot coffee a/n: hiii !! i hope this is what you asked for ! also i won't lie this made me so emotional </3 ngl i'm really proud of this one and i hope you like it <33

You watched Spencer write with intensity, his pen moving rapidly across the page. You were sitting in the seat in front of him, the two of you the only people in the otherwise empty section of the plane.

You leaned back in your seat, but no matter how much you tried to relax, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

“Spence,” you mumbled softly, almost afraid to interrupt the silence that had settled between you. But the words left your lips before you could stop them. 

He didn’t answer immediately, but instead finished the sentence he was writing. When his pen finally stopped, Spencer looked up at you, blinking a few times as if startled. 

“Hm?” His voice was soft, but his eyes didn’t quite meet yours right away.

“Are you alright?” you asked, your voice laced with concern. You leaned forward slightly, your eyes searching his face for any signs of distress. You could tell that were was something on his mind.

Spencer hesitated for a moment, his eyes shifting to the side as though considering his response. Finally, he gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his lips pressing together in a faint, reassuring smile. 

“Yeah,” he said softly, but there was a lack of conviction in his voice. 

But before you could ask anything more, he returned his attention to the notebook in front of him, his pen moving again with relentless speed. You raised an eyebrow, concern creeping into your expression. 

“What are you writing?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Spencer didn’t look up this time. Instead, his pen paused for a second before he closed his mouth, clearly searching for the right words to deflect. 

“I—uh… just some notes,” he replied, his tone guarded. He quickly returned to writing, as if trying to shut you out. 

That was Spencer for you—always shutting himself off when things got too personal or heavy.

You knew better than to push further, so you fell silent, as you leaned back into your seat. You turned your gaze to the window, your mind far from the clouds outside.

Some time had passed. You had tried to sleep, but it was useless. Your mind wouldn’t settle. With a sigh, you opened your eyes, resigned to staying awake. 

That was when you noticed Spencer. 

His head was tilted slightly to the side, his mouth just barely parted as soft, even breaths escaped him. His notebook lay open on the small table in front of him, as if he had been writing right up until he fell asleep. You smiled faintly at the sight, warmth spreading through your chest. He hardly ever let himself rest. It was nice to see him get even a moment of peace. 

Carefully, you stood, making your way toward the small kitchenette at the back of the jet.

A quick glance around told you that the rest of the team was asleep as well—apparently, you were the only one who couldn’t drift off.

With a sigh, you made yourself a cup of coffee, letting the warmth of the cup seep into your fingers as you turned back toward your seat. 

But then, you stopped. 

Spencer’s notebook was still lying open, its pages slightly bent from where he had dropped it onto the table.

You hesitated. 

You knew Spencer was private—especially about whatever had been weighing on him lately—but concern tugged at you, pressing insistently against your ribs. He had been acting strange for weeks now, closing himself off more and more, and you couldn’t ignore the gnawing worry in your chest. 

So, against your better judgment, you took a small step closer, your eyes flickering over the open page. 

A date was scrawled in the upper right-hand corner. 

And then, the words: 

"She hugged me today. It was nice. So nice I didn’t want her to let go. She was warm too. I don’t want to forget that. Ever. She smells so nice. She gives the best hugs—the kind where she doesn’t let go until I do. And if I could, I’d hug her forever." 

Your breath caught in your throat. 

Your hands trembled slightly around your coffee cup, but curiosity got the better of you, pulling your gaze to the next page—the one he had been writing on just before sleep claimed him. 

"The case we were working on was difficult. But she was there. Like she always is. I don’t think I could do this without her. I don’t think I could do anything without her. She’s sitting across from me right now, and I think she’s concerned. I don’t want her to be. I don’t like it when she looks at me like that. I like it more when she smiles at me. Because when she does, I feel like everything will be okay." 

Your fingers tightened around the coffee cup, and for a split second, you thought you might drop it. 

Your heart was pounding so loudly , it felt like it was louder than the entire plane. 

You had no idea. 

You had no idea he felt this way. 

The moment your eyes met Spencer’s, the cup actually slipped from your grasp. You managed to catch it before it hit the floor, but the hot coffee sloshed over the rim, searing your skin. You sucked in a sharp breath, wincing at the sting. 

But that wasn’t what made your stomach twist. 

It was the way Spencer was looking at you. 

His face was unreadable—his expression a careful mask, but his hands moved without hesitation. He closed the notebook in one swift motion, his fingers lingering over the cover.

He didn’t say a word. 

Your stomach churned. 

“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to—” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, but the words died in your throat. 

He didn’t look angry. Not exactly. But there was something behind his eyes, that made the guilt weigh even heavier in your chest. 

Slowly, you sank back into your seat, glancing down at your hand, which still ached from the burn. But the pain was nothing compared to the way your heart pounded unsteadily against your ribs. 

Before you could say anything else, a hand suddenly reached toward you, holding out a tissue. 

You hesitated for half a second before carefully taking it from Spencer’s outstretched fingers. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice softer this time. 

You dabbed at your hand, the warmth lingering on your skin, but your mind was far from the burn. Your thoughts kept circling back to the words you had read, the ones etched so deeply onto the pages of his notebook—the ones that had been about you. 

Tentatively, you lifted your gaze to meet his again. 

“I’m really, really sorry,” you whispered, biting your lip. 

Spencer looked at you, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. You could see the red creeping up his neck, spreading to the tips of his ears. His fingers twitched slightly where they rested on his notebook, as if debating whether to grab it and tuck it away completely. 

“How much did you read ?” His voice was quiet, hesitant—like he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. 

You felt a fresh wave of embarrassment crash over you, guilt tightening in your chest. But underneath it—buried deep—there was something else. A tiny spark of something warm. Hopeful.

Because the words you had read kept replaying in your mind, his handwriting burned into your thoughts. 

I don’t think I could do this without her. If I could, I’d hug her forever. 

Your fingers tightened around the tissue in your lap. 

“Just—just two pages,” you admitted softly. 

Spencer inhaled sharply through his nose. His gaze flickered away for a brief moment, his hands clenching slightly before relaxing again. You could tell he was fighting the urge to retreat, to shut you out completely like he always did when something got too close. 

“They were open on the table, and I just—” You exhaled shakily, closing your eyes for a second, trying to find the right words. “I was concerned about you. You never talk about what’s bothering you, and I just—” 

You opened your eyes again, looking at him with nothing but sincerity. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” you mumbled, your voice small but genuine. 

Silence settled between you. 

Spencer’s fingers curled tighter around the edges of his notebook, his knuckles just barely turning white. His eyes flickered downward for a moment, like he was searching for something—maybe the right words, maybe the courage to say them. 

You inhaled softly, heart pounding in your chest. And then, before you could second-guess yourself, the words slipped out. 

“I don’t think I could do any of this without you either.” 

His eyes snapped back up to yours. 

Spencer’s face turned an even deeper shade of red, the color creeping up from his neck to his cheeks. His lips parted slightly, but he didn’t say anything. He just stared, as if trying to process what you had just admitted. 

Your pulse quickened. 

“And…” You hesitated, but his silence wasn’t rejection. So you took a breath and kept going. “And I like hugging you. A lot.” 

His grip on the notebook tightened. 

There was another pause—another moment stretched too thin between you. You could practically hear your own heartbeat in your ears. 

Then, finally, Spencer exhaled. He set the notebook down on the table, fingers lingering over it. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. 

“I’m writing these moments down so I don’t forget them.” He swallowed hard, glancing down for a split second before meeting your eyes again. “In case I—” He stopped, inhaling sharply. His brows furrowed as he took a deep breath, trying to will himself to say it. 

He didn’t have to. 

You understood. 

His mother. The fear. The possibility that one day, his mind might betray him, might take these moments—you—away from him. 

Your chest tightened. 

“I just don’t want to forget you. Ever.” 

The vulnerability in his voice shattered something inside you. 

Your vision blurred, tears threatening to spill, so you blinked rapidly, willing them away. But Spencer saw them anyway. 

A small, hesitant smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I hope you also read the part where I said I prefer it when you smile at me.” 

The unexpected comment caught you off guard. A surprised laugh escaped you, soft but genuine. You wiped at your eyes quickly, shaking your head. 

“I did,” you admitted, sniffling slightly as you met his gaze. “And for the record, I like it when you smile too.” 

Spencer’s lips pressed together like he was trying—and failing—to keep himself from smiling even more. 

For a moment, neither of you spoke. But this silence felt different. Lighter. Warmer. 

You glanced down at his notebook, the one still sitting between you on the table. Your fingers itched to reach for it again, but instead, you looked back up at him. 

“Can I ask you something?” you said softly. 

Spencer nodded, his expression open, if a little nervous. 

“Why me?” you asked, your voice wavering slightly as nervousness crept in. 

Spencer blinked, clearly taken aback by the question. His lips parted like he wanted to answer immediately, but no words came out. Instead, he studied you for a long moment, his gaze flickering over your face as if trying to find the right way to explain something so deeply ingrained in him. 

You almost regretted asking. 

Spencer’s fingers toyed with the corner of his notebook, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“Because I’m in love with you,” he whispered. 

The words hung in the air between you, soft yet heavy, delicate yet undeniable. 

It practically took your breath away. 

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Your mind scrambled to process what he had just said, but your heart—your heart had already caught up, hammering against your ribs like it had been waiting for this moment all along. 

Spencer’s fingers tightened around the edge of his notebook, his knuckles going pale. His whole body was tense, like he was bracing himself for impact. Like he was waiting for you to tell him he had just made a mistake. 

But he hadn’t. 

Because, God, if he only knew. 

“Spence…” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. 

His eyes searched yours, uncertain, vulnerable—waiting. 

And suddenly, all you could think about was every moment leading up to this. The way he always found you in a crowded room. The way his entire body relaxed when you were near. The way he had been writing down memories, terrified of losing them, terrified of losing you. 

You had always known Spencer loved deeply. But you had never let yourself believe—never let yourself hope—that he could love you like that. 

Until now. 

You let out a shaky breath, a slow smile tugging at your lips as you squeezed his hand gently. 

“Good,” you murmured, your heart racing as you finally let the words slip free. “Because I’m in love with you too.” 

Spencer’s breath hitched. His eyes widened just slightly, as if he hadn’t let himself hope for this either. And then—slowly, tentatively—his lips curved into the softest, most relieved smile you’d ever seen. 

[lvlybin]

If you have time OT9 on marking you up? The thought of letting people know you are theirs kinda killing me >< if you have time and willing to write of course ^^

cw kissing, neck kissing, marking, hickies, biting, mentions of sex, mentions of oral sex (f!receiving), lowkey a breeding kink in Hanbin's part, Binnie's a little drunk in his part, jealousy & reassurance :) 18+ MDNI

✉️ hi my love! sorry it took me so long to respond to this :( exams have been CRAZY for me... anyways, I just did legal line with this, but I hope you enjoy!

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓙iwoong ﹙𝓴.﹚

     It was one of those nights when Jiwoong had invited you to a work party with him. Any evening spent with him was perfect, especially when he would show you off. Jiwoong always made you feel so treasured and loved, all while he worshiped the ground you walked on. And the way he’d introduced you to his team members that night with a huge smile on his face only proved that further. It was nice meeting Jiwoong’s colleagues; like you were being shown another glimpse of his everyday, more intimate life. You were shown a glimpse of something else, too.

     After returning home from the party, you’d been quick to head to the en-suite bathroom of your shared room to remove your makeup and get ready for bed. Jiwoong followed closely behind you, you still in your formal dress and him still in his suit as you began to take care of your skin. “I didn’t realize how long these events could go on for,” you hum, still high off the feeling of the amazing evening. Your eyes meet Jiwoong’s in the mirror. They’re a shade darker than usual, his pupils dilated as he consumes the image of you getting ready for bed. What truly sends a wave of warmth through you, though, is the smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

     “They usually don’t,” Jiwoong comments as he moves closer to you. “Everyone just wanted to talk to you, though, didn’t they…” His hands run over your sides before settling on your waist. The touch leaves a tingling sensation in their wake, just like always, but you do your best to continue removing your makeup. Jiwoong’s hands tighten around your middle. “Can’t blame them, though. This dress looks beautiful on you.”

     A small gasp leaves you as his lips lower to the skin of your neck, and subconsciously, you tilt your head back to give him more access. The kisses are warm, lulling you into a familiar state of comfort and beginning sparks of pleasure. Jiwoong’s usually gentle in soft, quiet moments like these. Even with the underlying tension beginning to grow akin to the pleasure heating in your veins. His mouth works to suck gently at all of the sensitive spots he’s mapped out on your body, causing your body to tremble in his arms from the combination of pleasure and the way his tongue licks over your skin before he moves on. 

     By the time he pulls away, you can barely keep your eyes open. Your brain already feels a bit fuzzy from the intense amount of attention, and your panties are thoroughly soaked. Jiwoong smirks a little as he trails his thumb over the string of hickies he’s left on you: a blossoming red that would later darken to purple. You’d be lucky if he let you cover them up. “Should’ve done that before we left.”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓗ao ﹙𝔃.﹚

     “You’re no fun,” Hao whispers to you, his body pressed closely to yours as the darkness of this random storage closet prevents you from fully seeing him. 

     “And you’re acting like a child,” you retort quietly as your eyes adjust. His freshly dyed pink hair is still noticeable even in this dim lighting and is fluffy as always, while his full lips press into a pout. The entire group was excited for this comeback, you included, and performing the tracks at music shows was a highlight for all of you, especially your boyfriend, who put his entire being into giving the fans his best. At least, it was supposed to be fun for him until another male idol got a little too close and a little too friendly to you for his liking. Now, here you were, pinned between Hao and the wall with only a few minutes before your group was due on stage. “You’re going to get us in trouble–”

     “You already are in trouble.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes at his words, opting to reach up to place your hands on his shoulders. “Come on, YNie, reassure your boyfriend.”

     Hao had everyone wrapped around his finger, and he knew it. Knew that he wouldn’t get in trouble for being a little late, wouldn’t be in trouble with you for letting his jealousy get the best of him, wouldn’t get in trouble as his lips find your neck. Your grip on his shoulders tightens as your body presses closer to his at the sudden stimulation, and in turn, his hands grip your waist, ruffling whatever stupid skirt and accessories the stylist had put on you that day.

     “I’ll do it myself then,” Hao mumbles against your skin, the feeling of his breath causing you to shudder. The feeling of him smirking against your neck? That has wetness pooling in your panties. You don’t have any time to protest as Hao busies himself with marking you. His teeth graze against your neck teasingly, reminding you of the way they would play with your clit when his mouth was on another part of your body, and his fingers dig further into your hips to hold you in place. A small whimper leaves you as he bites down a bit harder on an extra-sensitive spot, making you squirm in his grip.

     “Let me finish,” Hao breathes against your skin, the scent of his hair overwhelming your nose as he sucks harshly at your neck. “Want him to know you’re mine. Want everyone to know…” Finally, he pulls away, one of his hands leaving your trembling body to fish his phone out of his back pocket. The brightness of the flashlight feature has you blinking quickly, unprepared for the sudden change of lighting. But you can see the way Hao’s pupils dilate as his fingers find your chin and force you to tilt your head. The only sounds in the storage closet is your and Hao’s heavy breathing as he assesses the marks he’s left. 

     When he’s satisfied with his work, the light turns off. Instead, the natural lighting from the door being opened floods the closet. “If the makeup artist tries to cover them up, tell her no.”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓗anbin ﹙𝓼.﹚

     The sounds of Hanbin’s giggles meet your ears as he rolls over with you on the bed again. You weren’t sure what had caused this burst of energy from him, but it was definitely too late in the day for it. It was probably the alcohol he’d had at dinner with you. Your boyfriend was tipsy. He laughs again as your head hits the pillow, a small huff leaving you. “You’re so cute,” Hanbin mumbles, the tone of his voice making it sound like he’s in awe.

     You would return the compliment if you weren’t so tired and he was the only thing standing between you and sleep. “I’m tired,” you correct. Hanbin grumbles something as he buries his face in your neck. His arms are wrapped tightly around your body, pinning your arms to your sides. “And you’re going to be too when you sober up a little.”

     “M’not drunk,” he protests, voice muffled by your skin. The tickling sensation has you squirming under him. And it certainly doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and you can feel his body tense a little. “I’ll prove it…” The determination in his voice has every bit of sleepiness leaving you, the familiar sensation of arousal beginning to course through your bloodstream.

     Still, you sigh, knowing Hanbin shouldn’t be doing anything like this with you while he’s under the influence. “We should sleep, Bin.” He shushes you, nose running along the curve of your neck as he breathes your scent in. When his eyes flutter shut and a small whine escapes him, you know he’s gone. 

     “How am I supposed to sleep with you underneath me?” Then, his lips find your neck. 

     Hanbin’s such a tease, barely making contact with your neck before biting down a little, making you twist in his hold. Teasing in the way he would chuckle every time some kind of noise would escape your throat and with the way he purposely would brush over the sensitive spots on your neck, neglecting them. He scatters love bites all along the column of your throat, a sense of satisfaction calming his tipsy mind at the sight of you bearing his marks. If he had it his way, you’d be marked in a different way (your stomach round with his child), but now’s not the time for that.      Instead, he continues running his tongue over your skin, sucking hard enough for your skin to bloom with color. When he finally pulls away, he has a dazed look in his eyes that you’re sure matches your expression. “See? M’drunk– M’not drunk enough to forget that you’re most sensitive.” He pauses to press a fleeting kiss to your neck, “Spot is here.”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓜atthew ﹙𝓼.﹚

     Matthew was always busy, always moving, so it was normal for him to have a bit too much energy when he’s been lying with you for a significant amount of time. His hands grip your sides just a bit tighter every now and then, like he’s trying to calm himself down. It’d been a lazy day for the two of you, just lounging around your apartment and enjoying each other’s company. Now, cuddled up on the couch, it was clear Matthew wanted something. And by the way his eyes kept darting to your neck, you had a feeling you knew what it was.

     “Matt?” He hums when you say his name. “What’s wrong?” His body shifts against yours as his warm brown eyes meet yours. 

     “Nothing. Just want to keep cuddling.” Right. You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the cheeky smile that grows on his face. “Whattt?”

     “You keep looking at my neck.” His smile somehow gets bigger.

      “I just think it looks empty.” And a few moments later, he had you underneath him as his mouth worked at your neck. Small kisses had been peppered along your skin at first before Matthew bit down against your neck. The feeling of his teeth harshly marking your skin has you crying out, his hands wrapping around your wrists to pin them against the couch cushion. Matthew wasn’t exactly always thorough when marking you, but he definitely left enough marks to get the point across. His need to mark you up came sparingly, but the sessions would always leave you needy and ready for more.

     This time though, he was practically biting your neck, following the feeling of his teeth with harsh sucks, like he wanted the marks to appear right away and be dark just as fast. “Matt…” you breathe, legs wrapping around his middle as he continues sucking your neck. His lips trail down to where your collarbones are exposed because of the loose t-shirt you’re wearing. At this spot, the sensation of his teeth grazing against your skin is heightened, and it has you whining and arching your body up to his. 

     His grip on your wrists tightens. “Stay still.”

     You never thought leaving hickies could be rough, but here you were–Matthew biting down against your skin to make his marks on you as deep as possible. It's probably so they would show longer. Because as much as he loved to mark you up, he knew how sensitive you could get if he was doing it every night.     A particularly harsh bite has you yelping. Matthew pulls away instantly, eyes searching your face in concern. “You okay?” You don’t respond for a moment, eyes half lidded. Then, something clicks in Matthew’s mind. “Aw, you like it when I’m rough, don’t you?”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓣aerae ﹙𝓴.﹚ㅤ

     It was rare for Taerae to get jealous. It was something you adored about your relationship: you both felt confident in each other and knew that the other would never do anything to hurt you. That couldn’t be said about those surrounding you, though. 

     Sat silently in the passenger's seat of Taerae’s car, you watch as his knuckles tighten around the wheel. Seeing one of the workers at the coffee shop flirt with you wasn’t the way he wanted to end his day, especially when the other man just didn’t seem to pick up on any of the hints you were dropping that you were very much already taken. 

     “It’s not your fault,” Taerae says softly when he sees you glance over at him for the hundredth time. “I’m not mad at you.”

     “I know,” you sigh. You were honestly probably as annoyed as he was. “I really thought saying outright that you were my boyfriend would make things clear.” Taerae can’t help but smile a little at your words as he turns the car into the parking lot of your apartment complex. He keeps the car running as he puts the car in park before looking over to you. 

     “I can think of a few ways to fix that.” 

     Taerae maneuvers you to straddle him in the driver’s seat, his hand finding your hips as his lips trail firmly up your neck. A soft kiss is placed on your jaw, then your lips, before he returns to your neck. He has his unmistakable confidence in his movements as he sucks marks onto your skin, his tongue running over your skin in a way that has you squirming on his lap. Taerae focuses on one spot, one that’s visible, one that’s particularly sensitive for you, to leave the largest mark.

     He uses the size of his mouth to his advantage, not wanting anyone to miss the fact that you’ve so clearly been marked. That you’re his. 

     A few more marks are scattered across the column of your throat, but the hickey he’d spent most of his attention on is impossible for Taerae to pull his eyes away from. “There we go… Nothing to worry about now.” There’s a warmth that’s settled in your belly, and it’s only one that Taerae can fulfill. It has you both rushing out of your car and back up to your apartment, not caring about the strange looks you get from the other people in the lobby.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓡icky ﹙𝓼.﹚ㅤ

     You loved kissing Ricky. How soft and comforting it was, especially when you were cuddled up in his bed. The atmosphere was the epitome of calm, his scent wrapping around you in the same way his arms were, the warmth of the blankets making you limp and drowsy. His mouth captures yours in an almost tender way. For a moment, it’s just your lips pressing against his before his tongue runs along the seam of your lips, requesting entrance. When you part your lips, Ricky takes his time to deepen the kiss. 

     His tongue slides against yours slowly before he pulls back just enough to break the kiss, his nose brushing against yours. He can’t help but get a little shy at the way you look at him before leaning in to kiss him again. The movements are slow, like the sleepiness the two of you are feeling, but are full of love. When Ricky abruptly separates your lips, you feel a bit confused.

     “Can I, um… kiss your neck?” The urge to coo over how cute he’s being is hard to resist. 

     “Kiss my neck? You don’t have to ask to do that.” By the way Ricky avoids your eyes for a moment, you can tell that he’s hesitating to tell you something. “What do you want, Ricky?”

     “Want to give you hickies,” he mumbles, and the shy admission makes you feel warm. “Please.”

     You giggle softly as you nod, “Knock yourself out.” 

     Ricky tucks his face in your neck, his kisses light and barely there, feeling like butterfly wings. And then, when he finally begins sucking on your skin, the gentle pressure is enough to have that warmth you were feeling pooling in your belly. His hands aren’t harsh as he holds you, more loving, like he’s reassuring himself that you’re there and this is real. You whimper softly when his lips find a particularly sensitive spot. 

     “There?” he asks breathlessly, and you can only let out a small hum in response. It doesn’t take him long to go back to marking you up, gentle as always with how he handles you. Ricky’s always careful with you, and the small marks he leaves on your neck show that. None of them are too large or too deep, just enough to be visible. Ricky didn’t like drawing attention to the two of you, wanting to keep you to himself, so the marks he leaves on you are there for just yours and his eyes. 

     He pulls away, settling back into bed. “Wanna do me now?”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓖yuvin ﹙𝓴.﹚

     When Gyuvin got jealous, he wouldn’t get angry or possessive like some of the other guys you’ve been with. Instead, he gets pouty. And part of you feels sad at the sight, but the other part of you can’t help but find it adorable. Gyuvin’s arms wrap tightly around your middle, and he rests his chin on your shoulder as you waddle around the kitchen with him. As you’re filling up your water bottle, your boyfriend finally speaks up, “You love me, right?”

     Your heart breaks a little at his question. “I love you more than anyone,” you say softly to him, turning your head so his fluffy hair presses against your cheek. “You’re everything I need. Don’t even know what that other guy was thinking when I was literally clinging to you.” You feel Gyuvin’s pout turn into a smile against your shoulder. “Don’t be sad, ‘kay? I love you.”

     “I love you too,” Gyuvin sighs, and you can feel all of the tension leave his body as he holds onto you. You finish filling your water bottle up and the two of you head back to your bedroom. Gyuvin climbs into bed first before opening his arms for you. You place your water bottle on the bedside table and practically fall into his arms, only to be met with several kisses on the top of your head.

     “You know what would make you feel even better?” you ask him, looking up at his wide, brown eyes. “Wanna mark up my neck?”

     A light blush covers his cheeks as a sly smile spreads on his lips. “Really?” The excited tone of his voice has you laughing as you nod. Gyuvin’s grin gets bigger as his large hands hold onto your hips, rolling over so you’re underneath him. “God, I love you…” he trails off as his lips meet where your neck meets your shoulder. 

     His touches are eager and loving. His kisses trail up your neck before Gyuvin settles on a spot to leave the first hickey. Strong arms encircle your waist, holding you tightly against him as he sucks on your neck, like he’s afraid you’re going to disappear. Reassuringly, your arms wrap around his shoulders as Gyuvin continues leaving marks on your skin. The idea of marking up your body has any insecurity or sadness fading from Gyuvin’s mind instantly, knowing that you’re so willing to let him have you like this enough to reassure him. 

    Slowly, his lips travel back down your neck, pecking each of the marks he’d left before he continues traveling down your body. “Need to kiss one more place before I fully feel better,” he whispers against your shirt as his fingers hook in the waistband of your pajama pants.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓖unwook ﹙𝓹.﹚

     Gunwook’s extra tired when he arrives at your apartment tonight. His feet drag as he follows you around your apartment while you prepare for bed, his eyes drooping. But he refuses to go to sleep without you. You feel bad at the way he’s almost in a daze as you make sure the door and windows to your apartment are locked, with the way he clings to you as you go through your nighttime routine, and with the way he flops down in your bed the moment you finish your skincare. 

     “Let me hold you,” he mumbles, his voice soft yet rough at the same time. And who are you to deny that? You turn off the majority of the lights in your bedroom, leaving the bedside table lamp on to cast a dim, warm glow around the room. Then, you climb into Gunwook’s arms.

     “You’ve been so sleepy recently,” you say gently, one of your hands going up to run your fingers through his hair in a soothing manner. “Feeling relaxed?” Gunwook hums as he tucks his face into your neck. His soft breathing against your skin is enough to make you feel as sleepy as him too. 

     The two of you are quick to fall into the purest state of lovers: vulnerable and completely at ease with each other, your bodies melding together. Instead of feeling turned on when he begins to kiss your neck like you usually do, the sensation just makes you soften even more between his warm body and the bed. Gunwook’s kisses are sloppy against your neck, like he’s too desperate for just even a taste of you, as he sucks on your skin. He doesn’t use his teeth on you, just his tongue presses against the column of your neck as he enjoys your taste. Gunwook’s mind barely registers that he’s leaving several marks on you, just that you’re here in his arms. And all he wants to do when you’re in his arms is love on you.

     “Taste so good,” Gunwook mumbles tiredly, his hands kneading against your waist.

     Your hands trail up to his hair, tangling comfortingly in the strands again. “You’re probably eating my lotion.” Gunwook chuckles, and you squirm at how it tickles.

     “Don’t care. Get to kiss you, that’s all that matters.” You hum at his words, hands moving from his hair and down his back. “Feel very relaxed now.”     “Yeah? Me too,” you agree, body lax in his arms. His weight settles on you a bit heavier as he looks at your neck. “Looks good?”     Gunwook presses one more peck to your skin before he cuddles back into you, his eyes falling shut. “Looks perfect.”

[little-diable]

Mine to Claim - Dean Winchester (smut)

While I'm still wondering if I should write for James Beaufort, I decided to run with the enemies to lovers theme for Dean. I know y'all love jealous Dean as much as I do. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader wants Sam to have a nice birthday, but all she can focus on is Dean, the man she had always sworn to hate, the man who gets all possessive as soon as somebody else finds her interesting enough to chat her up.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, thigh riding, full on jealous Dean, Dean's a bit of a dick in the beginning, possessiveness, fluffy end

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (about 4k words)

“A party? And who should we invite, huh?” Dean’s voice filled the library. He had his feet placed on the table, arms crossed in front of his chest while nursing his second beer of the night. 

(Y/n) had her eyes focused on the laptop, typing away as she tried to pierce ideas together to celebrate Sam’s birthday. But while she was set on putting something special together, trying to trap the man she couldn’t stand into helping her, Dean could only give room to annoying comments. 

“How about some werewolves, vampires maybe or a wendigo to make this exciting!” Sarcasm dripped from Dean’s words, leaving her groaning as she finally looked at the handsome Winchester brother. The two of them had never been fans of one another, but while (y/n) generally tried to keep her distance, Dean was set on annoying her at any given chance. She had lost count of the dates he had ruined for her, the friendships she had tried to build but had been torn down by him, no matter what she tried to do, Dean was always right there to cross her plans.

“Have you always been such an asshole or have you just not outgrown your teenager phase yet?” She shifted her weight onto her forearms while staring at Dean as if he was the most fascinating thing she had ever seen. His eyes had a twinkle to them as he mimicked her movements, taking his feet off the table to lean further towards her. 

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart, we both know you enjoy our dynamic more than you let others believe. You have never been good at hiding your crush on me.” The angry scoff clawing through (y/n) forced a chuckle out of Dean, who looked at her as if he had just goaled a win. Whenever he managed to rile her up, to get her angrier by the second, his smirk would grow as if he was proud of himself for getting under her skin like that. 

“Fuck you, Dean!” She rose to her feet, unexpectedly to Dean who now studied her with confusion laced in his gaze. “I’ll just take Sam out for dinner, anywhere without you near will be good enough.” 

(Y/n) tried to walk past him with angry tears welling up in her eyes, but she didn’t manage to get far, forced to a halt by the hand clamping down on her wrist. Dean stared up at her with an unreadable expression, shooting shudders down her spine while she tried to rip herself free. Something inside of her told her that he was close to apologising, urged on by the guilt he may feel, but the moment passed within seconds, forcing his smirk back to his lips.

“Dream of me tonight, sweetheart. But first, tell me, do you still sleep in my shirt?” The angry huff clawing through her made Dean chuckle, watching her rip herself free before storming out of the room. Her heart was aching in her chest, pounding against her ribs while her feet carried her towards her room. 

With her laptop tossed onto her bed, (y/n) allowed her tears to fall, urged on by her anger and confusion, torn between the way she had always detested Dean and the silent longing for him and his closeness. God, she hated him, hated him more than words could ever express, and yet a small, fucked up part of her wanted him and every part of him. 

It was time to finally get over Dean Winchester and the confusing emotions he pushed through her. 

……

“Thank you for this, (y/n). This is by far the best birthday I ever had.” Sam squeezed her shoulder as she looked up at him with a proud grin. She shot Sam another smile before she let her gaze wander, finding Dean’s frame. Even though she had tried to lure Sam away from his brother, knowing that the night wouldn’t end well if she and Dean would have to spend it together, Sam had begged her to take his brother with them, ending up at this very bar.

“Let me get you another beer, birthday boy. I’ll be back in a second.” (Y/n) rose to her feet with an unwavering smile, pushing past a few people to reach the bar. Music rang in her ears, not loud enough to leave her body buzzing, yet just enough to distract her from her wandering thoughts. 

“Hey,” an unfamiliar voice forced her attention away from the bartender, waiting for her to make her way towards (y/n). A guy was standing close to her, he was a bit taller than her, a handsome face she smiled at. “Is that your boyfriend?”

He tilted his head towards Sam, leaving her chuckling as (y/n) shook her head no. A relieved smile managed to find its way to the guy’s lips, he was visibly relaxing while taking a step closer. Even though her body begged her to chase the distance, her mind urged her to stay right where she was, reminding her of her promise to finally find a distraction from Dean Winchester.

“Are you from around here?” She kept her voice quiet as she studied the guy, the plaid shirt he wore and those dark jeans that had a similar touch to the ones Dean currently wore. For a second, she let her eyes wander, not paying attention to the words the guy spoke, but Dean was nowhere to be found, disappearing from her sight. 

“It’s my friend’s birthday today, so I’ll have to get back to him.” (Y/n) mumbled while she shot the guy another smile. She turned towards the bartender to speak her order before the guy could gain her attention again, with his phone in his hand.

“Give me your number, maybe I can take you out for dinner or something?” The soft chuckle leaving her made him smile, watching her type her number into his phone before reaching for the two bottles of beer. She took a step away from him, with her gaze still focused on him, but the second she turned away, (y/n) stumbled into a broad chest, having to tighten her grasp on the bottles before she could drop them. 

Wide eyes found a pair of familiar green ones, getting lost in the darkening pupils for a moment or two. Dean’s jaw muscles were ticking in anger as his gaze flickered between (y/n) and the guy she had been talking to. It took her a moment to rip herself out of her frozen state before she tried to push past Dean, though without any luck. 

“What did he want from you?” Dean’s voice had something to it she couldn’t pinpoint, something that left her insides churning; something that left her straightening her spine. Her eyes wandered over his angry features, allowing her to take in his handsome features. If he weren’t such an asshole to her, she would have instantly fallen hard for him, begging the man for a chance to love him like he deserved to be loved. 

“That’s nothing of your concern, Dean. Let me go.” But Dean didn’t give in, he tightened his grip on her arm to pull her even closer. 

“Oh, but we both know that it is, sweetheart.” She couldn’t find a reply, the words were stolen right from her as his lips graced her warm cheek with his eyes set on the guy who was still watching the two. And with another squeeze of her arm, he finally let go of her, only to gently push her into Sam’s direction. 

……

She woke with a groan, forcing her eyes open to take in the darkness surrounding her. Slowly, (y/n) rolled onto her side to reach for her phone, reading the time. It was in the middle of the night, only a few hours after they had found their way back home from the bar. 

Since that moment with Dean, (y/n) had been deep in thought, not understanding the way he had behaved at the bar. She crawled out of her bed with a sigh, set on grabbing a new glass of water to clear her thoughts. Still surrounded by darkness, she made her way to the kitchen, carried by tired limbs that begged her to make it back to bed. 

“I knew you were still stealing my shirts.” Dean’s voice left her jumping, ripping a squeal out of her as she turned towards him. He was leaning against the table, arms crossed in front of his chest, eyes set on her frame. Heat rose to her features as she remembered that she was once again wearing a shirt of his, and nothing more. 

“You jerk, why do you always have to scare me like that?” He walked closer to her, allowing her to find his pupils. His chest was almost pushed against hers while he wordlessly stared down at (y/n). She was close to speaking up again, set on throwing another insult his way to get herself out of this situation before she could say or do something stupid. But the second his hands found her waist to heave her onto the cold kitchen island, she forgot every word she had planned to speak. 

“Did that guy call you?” His voice was raspy, making goosebumps appear on her exposed skin. (Y/n) could barely focus on his voice, distracted by the feeling of Dean lingering between her spread thighs and the way he grasped her hips with his big hands. 

“Maybe he did, so what?” His tongue kissed his teeth while he pondered over her words, staring at (y/n) with something she’d dream of for a while. It felt like heaven and hell were clashing, forcing them to balance a strong energy neither had felt before. It drew them closer with every passing second, growing between them while both could only endure its strength. 

“You’ll lose his number.” It was a simple command, words that drew a soft laugh out of (y/n) while she shook her head no. A laugh that lost its strength as Dean’s big hand found her throat, forcing her to quiet down. Her pupils grew wider at the touch, drawing a shaky breath out of (y/n). “He’ll never have you.”

“And you will?” She could only whisper her question, words that left Dean smirking as he dipped his head down. He was close to kissing her, lips ghosting over hers while her heart picked up its beat. 

“We both know that I already have you.” With one last squeeze of her throat, Dean pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips before letting go of her. (Y/n) was at loss for words, could only watch him take another step away from her with his teeth buried in his grinning lower lip, front still turned in her direction. 

(Y/n) needed a handful of seconds before she snapped into motion, jumping off the metallic kitchen island to haul herself into his space, lips finding his with her arms wrapped around his neck. Dean instantly replied to the kiss with one hand placed on her waist and the other cupping the back of her head to keep her close. Their tongues met to deepen the kiss, leaving both groaning at the new sensation. 

“I belong to nobody and if you keep on being such an asshole to me, you’ll be the last person to ever have me.” She mumbled the words against his lips before pushing him away, leaving Dean breathless while she walked back to her room with a smile glued to her slightly swollen lips. 

……

Music filled her room, cozying (y/n) along while she was reading. It had been hours since her kiss with Dean, a memory that left her buzzing with nerves whenever her mind took her back to those minutes. She was proud of herself for finding the confidence at that time, for pushing him away after a kiss she longed to experience again. 

His lips had felt all too soft, a perfect kiss she had always read of in books but had never experienced herself–until that very moment. He had tasted of beer and home, a strange sensation she hadn’t been able to shake so far. 

A soft knock forced her out of her thoughts, eyes flickering towards her door to watch Dean step into the room. They hadn’t shared a single word since that kiss, while she had hid herself in her room, Dean had given her enough space to sort through the chaos both were stuck in now. 

He closed the door behind himself before walking towards her bed. (Y/n) could only watch as he plopped down on her bed, gently taking her book to place it on her nightstand before pulling her into his chest. She could hear his heart racing as both were laying there in silence. 

“What are you doing, Dean?” (Y/n) shifted on his chest, eyes finding his while he kept his hand placed on her side. He stayed quiet, seemingly deep in thought with his eyes set on the ceiling rather than her face. 

(Y/n) barely allowed herself to properly look at Dean, to take in the beauty of the man who made her feel the most confusing emotions imaginable. She wanted to count his freckles, every single one of them reminding her of a galaxy million of lightyears away, each telling its own story. She wanted to get lost in the green eyes reminding her of a forest that had seen the most gruesome things and yet still managed to offer a home to those needing shelter. She wanted to kiss those plush lips again that made her feel more alive than she had ever felt before.

“I,” he cleared his throat as if he was trying to rip himself out of a trap, forcing his eyes back down to meet hers. “Somewhere along the way, since meeting you, I’ve realised that it’s much easier to rile you up, to annoy you and have you as an enemy rather than admit my feelings to you but also to myself. From the first day we met you at that diner, I knew I had found my match, the one who finally belongs to me. But fuck, my anxiety got the best of me, and I began spiralling. It was fucking immature of me, but I couldn’t stop, not as long as I couldn’t accept that I’ve loved you for years.” 

Tears welled up in her eyes as she pondered over his confession, the words that cut deeper than she liked to admit. Dean’s thumb wiped away her falling tear while tightening his grip on her. Both were choked up, struggling to keep on speaking as silence engulfed them once again. The seconds kept fading by, moments she desperately needed to sort through her confusion, the words she wanted to speak but was unsure of. 

“And you’re ready to accept it now?” (Y/n)’s voice trembled, buzzing through her body like lightning set on burning holes into her skin. Dean’s hand stroked up her spine until he found the back of her neck, pressing (y/n) close to kiss her softly. It took her a few seconds to let her lips move, tongues meeting much slower than they had for their first kiss.

“If you’ll let me love you like you deserve to be loved, I am ready to accept it and fight for it.” A part of her knew that she should leave his side, kick him out of the room, and curse him for thinking she’d ever give him a chance, but the other, bigger part, begged her to give in, to finally grasp this chance she had silently hoped for whenever her anger turned into desperation and longings. 

“Kiss me, Dean.” He didn’t need to be told twice. Dean dipped his head down to kiss her with one hand finding her cheek. It wasn’t a soft kiss, fuelled by unspoken emotions and longings, and yet both took their time to properly explore their newfound territory. Carefully, Dean pushed her off his chest to hover over her with one leg finding its way between her thighs.

They didn’t break the kiss as he softly pressed his thigh against her heat, drawing a moan from (y/n) at the sudden contact. Heat buzzed through her body, down her spine and straight to her pulsing bundle. (Y/n) tried to push herself closer, moving with just enough strength to moan once again. 

“Can you make yourself cum on my thigh, sweetheart? Show me how much you need to be touched.” Her eyes found his stormy ones, getting lost in the rich colour for a second before a shaky exhale left her. (Y/n) pulled Dean down for another kiss while she moved against his thigh again, supported by him as he met her movements with more urgency.

Her body was burning, shaking from the excitement she couldn’t let go of; the anticipation pushing her towards the edge she’d fall from at least two times that day. Dean kissed his way down her throat, sucking on the spots that made her arch her back off the mattress. Goosebumps covered her body while she lost grip on reality, allowing her body to move without her mind’s guidance while searching for that high she could already feel creeping closer. 

“Such a good girl, look at how perfect you look, fuck, I can’t wait to see you all done with my cock buried inside of you.” He rasped the words against her ear, forcing (y/n)’s hands to find his forearms to hold on, clawing her fingernails into his skin. She was close already, about to let go with his name rolling off her tongue as the fabric offered just enough friction to make her gasp. 

His name rolled off her tongue as she came, eyes squeezed shut, back arched, toes curled. Dean could only stare down at her, mesmerised by the sight he’d take to the grave, forever remembering the first time he made her cum. With his lips meeting hers again, he managed to rip her out of her hazy daze, forcing her hands to move as they tugged on his shirt. 

They parted for a moment, allowing Dean to get rid of his shirt and his trousers, while she mimicked his movements, undressing herself with trembling fingers. Her mind was racing, leaving her buzzing as it slowly began to dawn on her what was about to happen, that she was about to let the man she had hated for years fuck her. 

“Tell me you want this as much as I do. I won’t touch you otherwise.” Dean’s murmured words made a smile widen on her lips. Even though she struggled to reply, eyes and mind fully focused on his naked body, the muscles she wanted to kiss, the cock that grew harder with every passing second, she parted her swollen lips. 

“I want you, Dean, mark me up.” With his grin glued to his lips, he watched her reach for a condom, rolling it down his cock to draw a soft groan from him. They held eye contact as he positioned himself on top of her, letting his fingers brush through her dripping slit for a moment before finally pushing into her. 

Groans and moans left the two at the new sensation, with her walls fluttering around him and his cock disappearing further and further inside of her. Dean pressed his forehead against hers as a deep exhale left her as if she needed to relax, to tell herself that everything was alright. He moved slowly, careful at first, giving (y/n) enough time to adjust while their bodies kept meeting with every thrust. 

“Fuck, you feel so perfect.” Dean’s words drew a small chuckle out of (y/n). Her arms found their way around his neck, letting her fingernails scratch at his skin on their way up his neck. The second she found his roots to tug on them, Dean added more speed to his thrusts, set on leaving marks just like she had asked him to. 

She was about to moan his name, about to beg Dean to move faster, but the sound of her ringing phone forced her attention away from him. For a second, his pace began to falter, but then a smirk widened on his lips. 

“Who is it?” Her wide eyes found their way back to his. 

“The guy from the bar.” She was breathless, struggled to reply while a desperate whine left her. She needed Dean to move again, to push her closer to the edge with his cock buried deep inside of her. 

“Pick up.” Confusion was laced in her gaze as she watched Dean reach for the phone. He answered the call before he pushed it into her direction. They held eye contact as he began to move once again, fucking her even deeper than before.

“Hi, (y/n). I wanted to ask if you’re free tonight? I’d like to take you out for dinner.” (Y/n) struggled to stop her moans from leaving her, not wanting to give away what she and Dean were currently doing–even though Dean was clearly set on proving to the guy that she was now taken. 

“Hi, listen,” Dean’s thrust met her swollen spot the second she began speaking, drawing a moan from her she couldn’t bite down. Embarrassment was about to flush through her, widening her pupils while Dean’s smirk kept growing bigger. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Another moan left her as Dean met that spot again and again, letting the phone fall from her hands while hoping that the guy would simply hang up. No longer could she care about anything but the way Dean fucked her, letting his fingers meet her pulsing bundle to give her the needed push. 

“Cum for me, baby.” His lips met hers as she came, swallowing her moans while he fucked her through the sensation. (Y/n)’s body was buzzing, trembling beneath Dean as he searched his own high with fast thrusts that left her whimpering. He came with a groan moments later, thrown over the edge. 

“Fuck, that was something.” His husky words left her chuckling. She watched him roll off her to get rid of the condom before finding his way back to her bed. Dean’s warmth engulfed her, his arms pulled her against his chest as he pressed a kiss to her hairline. 

“We still have to talk about all of this.” (Y/n) whispered words drew a hum from Dean, who found himself being pulled back into his hazy thoughts. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness, I promise, sweetheart.” Her eyes flickered up to meet his, studying the unreadable expression he wore. 

“As long as you keep touching me like that I’m sure we’ll find a way.”