#but the think that can’t be killed and just jumps from body to body in a weird connected hive thing that is obsessed with their enemy
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brain damage mission impossible posting
okay there are 72 fics listed as Ethan/Julia on ao3 despite her being his canonical wife. Which like on a baseline level I understand because she’s not a character. she’s a symbol meant to represent Ethan’s desire for domestic quietude, something that is perpetually out of reach because he’s the mission impossible guy who saves the world. every time he tries to be a normal person some evil entity threatens to destroy his life by kidnapping his wife/parents/etc. But the idea of a hot/cold relationship with Julia, or them as perpetual lovers without any promise of marriage and family or even exclusivity, is never entertained in these movies, which I think cements Julia as firmly not a character. She’s not even really that important to Ethan when viewed in this context, because there’s no shades of grey allowed - he’s either a full time spy or he’s a retired husband. He won’t even take “scraps” in the form of casual sex or infrequent clandestine loving hook-ups, even in contexts where that wouldn’t put her in any danger. the only two horizons of possibility for him are marriage or volceldom. the films make the case that you can’t really have any work-life balance, but the “life” part of that equation is just full-package white heterosexuality. And they don’t even make it seem that appealing honestly, like in the third movie when Ethan tries to retire he’s clearly not comfortable and on edge all the time and abandons it at the drop of a hat (almost killing Julia in the process). But every time she appears in these films after they break up he is deeply distraught about it - like god does Tom Cruise sell the “we can never be together” look of abject longing he does whenever their characters collide. He sells the intense emotional stakes despite the lack of normative sexual desire to go with it.
Because what’s also crazy is that Ethan as a character doesn’t really express any sexuality in general - most of it is extremely restrained, confined to caressing a woman’s face or accidental physical closeness (like landing on top each other during a fall, etc). It’s always hinted at but never really develops into anything, and even in later films where it’s clearly shown that he and Ilsa have something going on, they barely touch. Like most of it is communicated through emotional glances and long pauses of them staring at each other. Clearly the misogynistic spectre of “men and women can’t be friends without eventually fucking/dating” is present in this, but the conclusion of that heteronormative configuration is never paid off with sex. And this is despite women’s bodies being shown off constantly in these films, like there are a lot of unjustifiable and disgusting shots of women’s asses and legs especially, but they are pure “eye candy” for the audience, they are rarely if ever framed as being attractive from the perspective of Ethan, the principle POV character of every film and the character that audiences are clearly supposed to connect with.
And in those moments where women’s bodies are on display but Ethan is not paying attention, there is a clear separation between the director’s and Tom Cruise’s vision of these films. Like he is entirely in control of them at this point given he is the driving force behind them, all of these films are sold on Cruise doing some insane stunt like holding his breath for six minutes or climbing the exterior of the tallest building in the world or him doing 109 HALO jumps to get the best footage for a mid-air struggle over Paris. He does shit no other actor does, he sells it by making it ‘real.’ The films also narratively revolve around him - he is, to use direct quotes, “the living manifestation of destiny,” “the embodiment of chaos itself” and so on. He is the emotional and narrative centre of gravity. Ethan’s emotional states, his desires, his tribulations and internal conflicts, they are all that matter in these films. Basically no one else is a character. And he doesn’t fuck in any of these movies! He's a hot-shot spy but he isn’t a ladies man. Women fall over themselves for him but he’s not interested in them. The only exception is Ilsa, but that is clearly the result of her saving his life multiple times and their emotional trust in one another. Like these films have action movie levels of misogyny, sexual objectification and narrative discarding of women and all of that, but our main hero doesn’t really “partake” in any spoils of triumph or whatever gross horseshit is usually in these things. So to me this indicates a general lack of desire on the part of Cruise to “indulge” in any of these tropes, something he has the money and power to force on screen if he wants it to happen (which is what happens in many movies! Including these ones, only you just see a woman’s ass disconnected from any character’s sexual intention - the sexual intention is purely presumed on behalf of the audience).
I think this is aesthetic evidence that Tom Cruise is gay. But I still don’t really care about any of the guy characters either because they also aren’t characters, so Benji/Ethan is entirely uncompelling to me in a way that Ethan/Julia isn’t, not because cookie-cutter heterosexuality is “more interesting” but because there is something weirdly restrained and emotionally repressed about it that feels strangely uncomfortable with its own cookie-cutterness. so personally if you want to do Benji/Ethan in an interesting way I think you need to contend with the bizarreness of Ethan/Julia, OR, you deal with the narrative tension of Ethan/Julia itself by focusing on it. I am obviously biased in that I am extremely partial to a good “lovers doomed to be forever apart” thing (and these movies are NOT good examples of this), but their relationship is purely emotional and purely based on repression of a desire for intimacy as opposed to sex, which feels weirdly out of place in an otherwise titanically normative action film series. AND ITS MAKING ME CRAZYYYYYY!!!!!!!
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Silly question: what if your faves from Dragon Age and Mass Effect met?
Specifically thinking of Shepard+Garrus, Hawke+Fenrir, and Inquisitor+Solas.
My first thought was that Garrus and Shepard are having an emergency wine and bitch session with the Inquisitor about Solas… my second thought was that Hawke and Fenris absolutely joined and turned it into a drinking game… my third thought is that Solas is dodging wine bottles left and right after Fenris gets drunk enough and Shep is absolutely joining him.
But frfr Shep (purple) Hawke and the Inquisitor would all get along very well because they all understand the fate of a large group of people resting on their shoulders and having to try to keep the peace when everything is set against them. Garrus and Fen are absolutely comparing ridiculously oversized weaponry (god forbid Fenris gets his hands on a gun). Solas is on the edges watching wondering if they are all doomed to repeat cycles even worlds apart as Shepard story about the Reapers sounds way too familiar.
#the elf talks#dragon age#mass effect#Shepard is honestly just content she doesn’t have to deal with the hole in the sky#but the think that can’t be killed and just jumps from body to body in a weird connected hive thing that is obsessed with their enemy#is way to familiar
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Hate the Winchesters not because it’s bad but because every time I watch an episode I wake up at 3 AM to my brain trying to construct a better version of the show out of scraps
#thinking rn about what if they went more early season spn and leaned into American urban legends#specifically thinking about. headless horseman episode.#headless horseman killing people who try to leave Lawrence#it’s going to go after Mary at some point obv. She’s trying to keep people from leaving town#but in doing so she accidentally gets on the ghost’s radar#imagining her like. wrecking her car into someone else’s. just to keep them from leaving#she’s saving their life! they don’t know it but she is! but then as she’s getting out of her car to go make sure they’re okay#turns around and oh shit. headless horseman. run#meanwhile Carlos and Latika have figured out the whole ‘can’t cross bridge with running water’ thing that I think is part of the mythos?#anyway the point is that Mary’s running. and then Carlos pulls up after having driven here like a madman. blew right past the horseman.#van back doors open for Mary to jump in#and then they fucking book it#shit is falling out of the van all over the road#and latika was in the back to help Mary climb in so they’re holding hands (this is because they r gay. also. important detail.)#they get rid of the ghost. maybe there’s a reason for the bridge thing. maybe he got his head chopped and his body thrown in the river#scare the ghost to not existing like the guy from the fear illness episode#but the three of them make it over the bridge. and the thing is. they’re free. nothing is chasing them. Carlos could keep driving.#he’s not going to though. because the thing that keeps everyone in Lawrence. the thing that’s got them trapped. it’s not a ghost.#I think there could be something to that. you know how the thesis of spn’s pilot was ‘you can never go home’#what if the thesis of the Winchesters was ‘you can never leave home’#a v different kind of horror story#mary is going to die in this town. she’s never going to escape. and the thing is that Carlos and Latika love her. they do.#which is a terrible thing in the spn universe. gets you as tangled up and trapped as the person you love.#presumably they’re going to end up like Mary’s other old friends that are referenced as having suspicious deaths in s3 of spn#and we know that. they don’t.#anyway you may have noticed John wasnt in this at all#that’s because I would just. write him out. of the hunting parts.#he’s the love interest guys. he’s not here to contribute to the plot. he’s here to make heart eyes at mary.#(and ultimately damn her because she loves him and saving his life will be what jumpstarts the whole mess.)#also no weird aliens in this version. samuel’s just kidnapped by a run of the mill demon. which is actually a threat.
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𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭, 𝐓𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐬 𝐚 𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖, 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐡, 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐂𝐨𝐝𝐞, 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬, 𝐀𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐓𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜-𝐃𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐬, 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐧
𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞
Annoyance filled your body as Stu sat on the couch laughing dramatically and talking loudly to his friends. You didn’t like going to the parties Stu hosted because he paid no attention to you. He only cared about his stupid friends and impressing him, leaving you to baby a drunk Stu at the end of the night.
“Baby, go grab us a coupla beers okay?”
“Stu this is the third time-”
“Please?” He poked out his bottom lip. “This is the last time. I'll give you 20 bucks.”
You squint your eyes. “50.”
“Okay fuck. 50.”
You got up from the couch and squeezed past a few people to get to the garage. The room was humid and eerie, so you quickly clicked on the light and walked down the wooden stairs to get to the fridge. Bending over, you looked for the brand of beers Stu liked.
Behind you, the lights were cut off.
“Fuck.” You cursed but still didn't make any urgent moves. You picked up four beers and closed the door. You jumped seeing a person in a ghostface mask and cloak on by the garage entrance.
“Stu. Is that you?”
The person shook their head. “Okay well…maybe you shouldn't wear that around Sidney.”
The person slowly walked down the stairs, backing you away from the garage stairs. “This isn't fucking funny. Back the fuck up.”
The figure drew a knife and you gasped as he slashed it at you. You dropped the beer bottles and around the garage, throwing storage bins down to block their path to you. Quickly, you tried to dash to the garage door but got tackled down by the person. You screamed but your mouth was quickly covered by the perpetrator. Reaching up, you gripped the mask and slid it off, exposing your boyfriend's best friend.
“Billy?!” You gasped in fear.
Billy groaned and kept a tight grip on your wrists to stop you from moving any more.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“What does it look like?”
Realization dawned on your face, he was more than serious about trying to kill you. “You killed all those people….”
“Not just me.” He stated.
You shook your head in confusion.
“Stu. Y/n. You’re sleeping with my partner in crime.”
You felt a surge of anger and kicked Billy in the groin, causing him to groan and write on the floor in pain. “Are you fucking sick?!”
“You knew I was sick baby.” He chuckled whilst on the ground.
“How would your best friend feel if he found out you tried to kill his girlfriend?!”
“Who do you think sent me?”
Your heart dropped. Stu sent Billy to kill you? Why?
“He knows?”
“Nah.” Billy leans his head against the ground. “He’s just a little…ya know.”
You crossed your arms and shook your head, looking down at Billy. “And you were actually gonna do it.” Your voice cracked and Billy looked at you with a somber expression.
“I was....I'm supposed to. I haven't decided on it yet.”
“You-”
“Hey!” He interrupted. “I decided not to…just to give you a good scare. But now that you know….killing you would benefit me more.” He shrugged. “If I kill you now…Stu won’t be mad. You can’t tell Sidney about us, and no one would know I'm the killer……but I do enjoy your company…a lot more than I should.” He stood up and dusted himself off. “You know I slowed down on the killings after we started fucking you know.” He approached you slowly. “So I guess that means you do benefit me in some way.”
You placed your hands on your head and groaned. This was deeper than a sadistic prick going around town killing teenagers, these were your friends, your lovers doing this for the fun of it.
“If I let you go. You need to disappear for a bit.”
“What?”
“Listen.” He grabbed your arm tightly. “I can’t let you back in there…Stu needs to think you’re dead and gone. And you can’t go home either because Tatum or Sid might visit.”
“So where the fuck do I go you dipshit?!”
Billy looked to the doggie door that was on the garage door. “You hide out in my backseat and I drive you to my place, yeah?”
“I’m not sitting in your backseat for hours!” You bickered back at him.
“It’s either that or the knife!” He said harshly.
You weighed your options and sighed deeply. You went over to the dog door and looked back at him, angrily before getting on your hands and knees and start to crawl through.
Billy walked over to the door and clicked the garage button, making the mechanisms hum. You screamed loudly and pulled yourself back, looking at Billy and whimpering. He was laughing and clicked the button again, causing the garage door to go back down, leaving the two of you in the empty garage with the echoes of his laughter. “It's not funny!” You snapped, feeling yourself tear up.
“Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.”
You crawled out the door and avoided detection from any of the partygoers. You found Billy’s car and tugged on the back door, opening it and getting in the backseat as he told you.
There was no way to trust he wasn’t leading you to your death, but here you were.
Hours passed and you sat in the backseat, wondering why you didn’t just call for help, why you didn’t just snitch on Billy and Stu and end this town’s horror. As every hour passed the less you wanted to be entrapped in the car. The urge to get out and scream for help increased.
One more hour passed before Billy finally got in the front seat, dumping the ghost mask and suit in the back seat near you and starting the car. He said nothing as he pulled away from Stu’s home, and it made you nervous. You watched him through the rearview mirror, studying his frustrated face. He locked eyes with you in the mirror, and began talking. “He didn’t even care, you know. He got off on the fact you’ll be found in a ditch soon.”
You looked out the window, watching the trees and fields pass by. “Why did he wanna kill me?” You asked again.
“Tatum is his type so he needed a way to get with her without fucking up the friendship dynamic.”
“So his solution was to kill me!”
“I just made all that up.” Billy scoffed. “So fucking gullible. That’s probably why, you're such a dumbass. How the fuck would I know why he wants you dead. He just does.”
You leaned against the back seat, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You weren’t the nicest to Stu at times, and you certainly weren;t the perfect girlfriend…cheating on him…stuff like that, but you didn’t think it would end up in a murder plot against you.
“Stop that.” Billy scolded. “You’re no saint and neither am I….but you don’t deserve this…for once.”
You wiped your eyes and nodded. “How was the rest of the party? Did anyone notice me gone.”
“The girls yeah.” He turned onto a highway. “But I fucked Sid’s brains out so i’m sure that’ll have her distracted for a while.”
You smiled softly, “Finally.”
The two of you made it to Billy’s home, which was lightless and dark, due to the fact his parents weren’t there. He led you to the garage, where he spent most of his time, or so he said. None of you had actually been to his place, so seeing his abode felt very intimate. He let you into the garage and you saw a decorated room with a bed, posters, and sketches everywhere. You walked over to the drawers and the vinyl stacks he had. Billy huffed and sat on the mattress.
“This is not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?” He asked.
“I don’t know…you don’t take me as an artist. Not a person who draws anyways.”
He grunts and stares at the ceiling. You took off your jacket and shoes, getting into the bed next to him. You laid on his chest and watched as he pondered. “Why do you sleep in the garage and not that beautiful house out there?”
“That's not home.” He says. “A home…has a family in it. And it’s warm, and…rustic. Nothing in there has been used, it's cold, and no one is ever there. Barely.”
“You could make it a home.”
“Don’t need all that space. And I need privacy.”
You looked around, this did seem like a ‘Billy hideout’ by definition.
“Not even a crinkle in the sheets. We have a housekeeper that comes and cleans nothing.”
Things had been really rough for Billy after his mother left, and you knew almost nothing about it. Pillowtalk didn’t really exist with Billy, it did, but it wasn't the share-your-deepest-darkest-secrets-and-profess-your-love kind of pillow talk.
“Billy-”
“I killed Sidney’s mom a year ago.”
You sat up quickly and looked at him in horror. “What?!”
Sidney was almost inconsolable after the death of her mother, and Billy, along with you and the rest of the friend group comforted her, making sure she would never have to go through anything alone again. You slept over at Sidneys for four months after the death of her mother.
“Her mom was a whore.”
“Billy thats not-”
“If she hadn’t fucked my dad….”
You placed your hand over Billy’s lips, which caused him to furrow his eyebrows. “You’re getting yourself riled up.”
Billy took a deep breath and slapped your hand from his mouth. “If she hadn’t fucked my dad we wouldn’t be in this predicament would we?”
“Why didn’t you take revenge on…I don't know, your dad?!”
Billy’s eyes relaxed and he smirked. “Why would I do that?”
You groaned and shook your head. “I think you’re the mad one.”
“I’m sorry? Did I not just save your life from your crazy boyfriend.”
“And I ended up with an even crazier son of a bitch.”
Billy was quick to grab your throat and pin you under him, causing you to gasp and grab his wrist in fear. You looked at him in horror as he tightened his grip. He was going to strangle you.
“Billy no!” You choked out. Billy squeezed tighter and tighter until he leaned down and pressed a harsh kiss to your lips. He released his grip and you coughed under him, crying softly as the heat of the moment ended. “You’re so easy to scare.” He used his thumb to wipe your tears.
You hic’ed and tried to push him away from you. “It’s not funny.”
“Hey, hey, hey, I'm sorry.” He placed another kiss on your cheek.
Billy got up from the bed and went over to his vinyl stacks, he dug through them for a bit before putting on some relaxing music. You didn’t know the band or genre, but you were too frozen in shock to care. You heard his belt unbuckle and shifting before he got back into bed with you.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He caressed your cheek. “You just need to learn when to shut the fuck up okay?”
You nodded, and he placed another kiss on your lips. You didn’t reciprocate. He kept kissing your lips, then your neck, then your cheek, then your collar bone.
“I won’t stop til you forgive me.”
You felt his hands go under your arms, causing a giggle to emit from your throat.
“See? You can't even stay mad.”
“I am mad!” You giggled as he continued to tickle you. “Stop! You’re cheating.”
He continued tickling you until you sat up and shoved him. The two of you panted as the fight was over, and you scanned him, noting how he was only in his boxers now. He tilted his head and you groaned.
“Billy no.”
“Cmon, it's been a long night.”
“Billy you just fucked Sidney.”
“You think I came from that?” He scoffed.
You shook your head, “You are hell on earth.” You moved to take off your shirt, and Billy wasted no time grabbing you by your waist and pulling you onto his lap. He leaned against his headboard and peppered kisses on your chest as he unclasped your bra. Throwing your bra onto the garage floor he redirected himself to your tits, kissing and sucking on your nipples, causing you to writhe and moan.
Your noises made a beeline right to his dick, causing him to pull you down onto his hardening member. You held his head and groaned as he sucked on your breasts, taking his time to stimulate you.
His hands trailed down your waist and began tugging at your shorts. You used your right hand to unbutton your jean shorts and shifted away from him to slide them off. He grunted from the loss of contact. He was right on your wavelength, sliding off your panties right after the shorts and throwing them aside. Billy pulled you right back into his lap, moaning as he latched onto your lips.
“You're so needy tonight.” You said between breaths.
“I just need to come.” He pulled you back to kiss him. You began rocking your hips, creating friction between the both of you. He pulled away and looked down, watching how you wettened a spot on his boxers. He hummed and guided your hips, mumbling and panting as pleasure filled his body.
“Get up.” He said.
You rolled to your side and he quickly yanked down his boxers, springing excitedly in front of you.
He moved to climb on top of you but you clicked your tongue.
“Condom. You just fucked Sid.”
“With the only condom I had.” He mumbled in your neck and began rubbing his tip between your folds. You groaned softly and mentally chastised him. “I promise.” He kissed your neck.
“I need you.” He tested the limits by sticking the tip in and pulling out, causing you to moan in need.
“Okay fuck it.”
Billy entered you with a swift motion and you both let out a synchronous groan. He held a tight grip on your hips as he fucked you. You squealed and drug your nails along his back, stopping right above his buttocks and digging into the skin. Billy hissed and nipped at your bottom lip, moving more vigorously above you. You throbbed around him and he faltered, shivering above you.
“Don't fucking do that. Don't. Don't.” He pleaded into your neck as his strokes got more sloppy.
“Don't do what?” You whimpered as you did it again, causing him to hiss and strain as he held back.
“I'm gonna fucking come inside of you.” He kissed behind your ear. “You fucking asked for it. You wanted this.”
“No!” You moaned in delight. You could protest all you wanted, but you felt too good to get him off of you. The two of you panted louder, moaned louder, fucked harder until the two of you came undone in each others embrace. You curled your toes and panted breathless and he filled you up.
Billy rolled on his side and stared at the ceiling as he caught his breath. He sighed and patted your stomach twice before getting up.
As predicted, Tatum and Sidney began putting up missing posters for you, and Stu had to go around school acting like the heartbroken, devastated boyfriend.
Afterschool, Tatum was the one to comfort Stu, rubbing his back as Sidney and Randy came up with ideas as to where you went. Billy was pretty indifferent to it all, knowing you were probably laid out on his bed listening to music. Stu listened to Randy and Sidney, but his mind wandered, looking over at Billy, and then the floor, where he saw a familiar pair of panties hanging from the pocket of Billy’s backpack.
#halloween#halloweenfic#scream#scream 1996#billy loomis smut#billy loomis x reader#stu macher x reader#stu macher#ghostface smut#ghostface x reader
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Forgetting
Jake Seresin x reader
Summary: Jake forgets to pick you up at the airport because of his ex, and for the first time, you think maybe you and Jake aren't mean to be.
Notes/Warnings: Angst, but ends fluffy. Fighting. Cursing. This was a request that I said I'd have done in a couple days and it took me a week and a half. Sorry about that. Also, please be gentle. I haven't written for Jake in what feels like a millennium.
Words: 2700
Jake Seresin Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag List
As much as it would kill you to know that he could be hurt, you hope he’s hurt. You hope he’s on his way to the hospital to receive life-saving treatment because if he’s not hurt, if he’s not receiving life-saving treatment, then he simply forgot about you. And that makes your heart want to claw its way out of your chest and scamper across the floor until it’s well out of your range to catch it.
Your call goes to voicemail for the fourth time. You send your twelfth text: I hope you’re ok. I landed an hour ago. Please call me. Nothing different than the eleven other messages that have gone unanswered. Forty-five more minutes pass of you sitting on a bench by the airport exit before you finally surrender your last shred of hope and call Bradley to come save you.
Within the hour, you’re sighing in relief, the sight of a friendly face almost bringing you to tears. He approaches you with open arms and you fall right into the embrace, comforted by the hug that should be in your boyfriend’s arms, and the warmth that should be from your boyfriend’s body, and the forehead kiss that should be from your boyfriend’s lips.
“Please tell me he’s ok,” you say against your friend’s chest.
A heavy palm rubs up and down your back. “No one could get ahold of him.”
Your head jerks back so you can meet his eyes. “Oh my god!”
“I’m sure he’s fine, kid. Don’t worry.”
“How can you say that? He was supposed to be here and he’s not and–” You pause when Bradley looks away from you, and a hefty stone settles in your gut. You know your friend well. He’s a good man, honest but sensitive, and when that honestly meets that sensitivity, it results in his inability to look someone in the eye if he thinks the truth might hurt them. You’ve seen it a hundred times, but never with you.
Your posture wavers with your lengthy exhale. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Another great thing about Bradley: he doesn’t make you play any games. You don’t have to jump through hoops. You don’t have to ask the right questions in the right way in order to get what you need out of him, unlike many men, your boyfriend included, who recently has found ways to skitter around telling the full truth.
“Javy said he saw him a couple of hours ago,” Bradley says.
Your back teeth clench. Your mind shoots to one conclusion. “With her?” you ask. Bradley’s eyes drift from yours again and you nod, a tear at the ready to leak down your cheek. “He forgot about me because he’s with her.”
“We don’t know that for sure, and–”
Your hand scrubbing down your face cuts him off. Your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose before you suck in your whimper and say, “Rooster, why did he even ask me to come here?”
“Because he…I mean, we thought he–”
“You thought he gave a fuck about me.”
“He does,” Bradley says, stressing his words in an attempt to reassure you. “He never shuts up about you.”
“Sure,” you say. “He gives so much of a fuck that he forgot about me to be with his ex. How can you explain that?”
Rooster sighs. His hands slip into his jeans pockets just to have something to do with them. “I can’t.”
“Exactly.”
No one can explain it. Not you, not Bradley, not Jake. Everyone you know back home would be telling you to run for the hills right now. They were already wary of this ‘Navy guy’ that they’d only met twice around the holidays, who lives a decent distance away from your entire life and who constantly requests that you be the one to hop on a plane rather than the other way around.
For the duration of your time together, you’ve been understanding of that sacrifice. You know his schedule doesn’t allow impromptu trips out of state, but that hasn’t made it any less exhausting for you. And maybe that’s a sign. Another sign. A nail in the coffin. Maybe you and Jake aren’t meant to be. And why would you be? You met him on a brief vacation to visit a friend who doesn’t even live in the same town anymore, and somehow, during those few days, he convinced you to take a chance on him. So you took the leap. But being that bold doesn’t guarantee you won’t fall flat on your face, and you think that’s exactly what’s happening. You’ve tripped over a guy only to realize he doesn’t care about you to the same degree that you care about him.
However, you’re not the type to avoid confrontation. If Jake Seresin is going to mistreat you because of his ex, then he is going to do it to your face. He’s going to look you in the eye when he shows himself to be the liar he is. It may hurt more to go to him rather than get on the next plane home without so much as taking in a breath of fresh Californian air, but you’re too upset to let that thought fully develop, and a moment later, Rooster is following your stomps out the door.
—
You find him at the Hard Deck, standing at a hightop with a beer glass in his hand that clinks against the one in his ex’s before he takes a sip. Bradley’s comforting hand lands on your back in solidarity. You only met him because of Jake, but the two of you bonded despite their differences, and having him by your side now makes him nothing short of a life-saver.
He helps guide you through the crowd to the table, and when Jake spots you, he chokes around the liquid going down his throat. His blown-out emerald eyes rival saucers and his mouth gapes like a fish, but then his stare flicks to Bradley, and those eyes shrink into narrow slits. His face heats to a boiling red.
“What the fuck!” Jake snaps, shocking the composure right out of his ex’s poised stance. Bar patrons close by turn their heads but quickly return to their own conversations. Jake steps away from the table, coming to a halt in front of you and his squadmate. “What the hell is this?”
You figured he’d be bothered if you showed up with Bradley in tow. And good, that’s what you feel he deserves. Jake’s been wary of the other Dagger’s closeness to you for a while, and even though you know—as does Bradley—that it’s an asinine concern, you have no problem using it against him now. But still, the intensity of his reaction manages to surprise you. You didn’t think he would be this angered by the sight of you with another man that it would have him overlooking his mistake of forgetting you.
Your arms cross. “This is your girlfriend and the guy who saved her when her damn boyfriend left her stranded at the airport.”
“Excuse me?”
Jake’s ex’s prying gaze tugs at your attention, but when you glance over his shoulder to catch her in the act, she quickly looks away—just more proof that whatever the fuck she’s doing with your boyfriend is something to be ashamed of.
Bradley’s saying something. You can’t quite hear him over the anger-induced fuzzing in your ears, but you’re pretty sure it’s a scolding based on the twisting of Jake’s features as he shoots back his own words of aggression. And then your hand is in his and you’re being pulled through the bar, out the back door, and onto the deck where the only intrusive sound is the lapping of waves on the shore.
“Why are you here?” he asks.
You scoff to mask the heartbreak that comes with that question. “Because you asked me to be here.”
“Tomorrow.”
“What?”
“It’s Wednesday,” he says.
“It’s Thursday, Jake.”
“No, it’s—” he freezes, and you don’t know if he’s tipsy or stupid, but it takes him a minute to come to the same conclusion: it is indeed Thursday. “Fuck,” he mutters.
Your lower back meets the edge of the railing, and you sigh, thankfully keeping in the tears. “What are you doing with her?”
“What the fuck are you doing with Rooster?” he returns much more forcefully. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I called, I texted, I left voicemails,” you tell him, “But clearly, she was more important.”
Jake’s hands pat down his pockets, mouth setting in a frown when he can’t find his phone.
“Don’t bother. Phone or no phone, you forgot about me because of her. Last time I was here, you were late for one of our dates because of her. You spent fifty percent of our time together stepping away to take her phone calls,” you say, trying and failing to avoid the bitter taste on your tongue. “Just fuck her, Jake, if you haven’t already. I only came here to tell you that she can have you.”
You’ve never seen him fall apart the way he does. You’ve never seen the blood drain from his cocky face. You’ve never seen his features break and crack and contort into the vision of pure devastation as they do. His parted mouth must’ve gone dry because his next words come out slightly hoarse.
“You don’t mean that,” he says, but it’s more of a plea than anything. “Why…Why would you–” He swallows. A wrinkle forms between his brows and he shakes his head. “You love me. You didn’t mean to say that.”
You do love him—terribly so—but you’re willing to be one of those people who won’t view love as enough if it also means laying you out as a fool. “Jake–”
“Take it back,” he says. His steps are quick, and then you’re trapped where you stand, his hands on either side of your body, gripping the rail. Eyes drill into yours, and for a second, you feel a pang of guilt. “Please, baby, take it back. She doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“And I mean less.”
“No!” he says. “That’s not true. You’re everything, ok? You mean everything to me. She was just helping me, that’s all.”
“Helping you,” you mimic with a roll of your eyes. “Helping you what? Get off?”
With a little whine, Jake’s head drops between his shoulders, his blond hair brushing your collarbone. “Please. Please quit saying things like that.” His hands slide closer to your body and land on your hips. You don’t push him away—you can't—and his touch softens you ever so slightly.
“Then tell me the truth,” you say. “Right now. I’m giving you one shot.”
His head snaps up. His eyes flick back and forth between yours, ironically searching for your honesty, as if you’re the liar on trial here.
“It was a surprise,” he tells you. “She’s a realtor now, and for the last few months she’s been helping me find a new place, one that’s bigger than what I’ve got because I was going to ask you to move in with me.” Your heartbeat stutters. A layer of goosebumps coats your arms. When you don’t respond, he continues, “I hate missing you. I hate how unfair it is that you’re always the one to come here because I can’t fly out at the drop of a hat. I know it’s a big step, but I figured if I had a place, I could show you how great things could be. That’s why she and I came here. We were celebrating because I’m signing on a house first thing tomorrow,” he says. “Well, that’s why I’m celebrating, anyway. She’s probably celebrating because she just made a decent commission.”
It’s almost unfair how that new information doesn’t make you feel any less of a fool. Had he told you that under any other circumstances, you’d be leaping into his arms, kissing him like you’ve been deprived of him for years, repeating ‘yes’ over and over between those kisses, but you can’t. You can’t because his explanation doesn’t fix everything.
“That still doesn’t change that it’s Thursday, not Wednesday,” you say.
“I know, baby. That’s my fault. I was so excited, and I was thinking how perfect the timing was that I would be able to pick you up tomorrow and drive you by the house now that it’s officially mine, but I fucked it up.”
Jake’s thumbs press into your hips, and you’re instantly reminded of each moment in your relationship when you’ve felt that same light pressure on your skin. A gentle claiming. The same pressure you felt when you agreed to be his girlfriend. The same pressure you feel whenever you’re in bed together.
You sense eyes on you other than your boyfriend’s, and when you turn your head, you find his ex staring right at you, an expression on her face that you wish you could say wasn’t one of distress, but it is. And worse, it’s obviously not distress for herself, but for Jake, as if she’s hoping she wasn’t just a contributor to a bomb dropping on his life.
Jake’s busy staring at you despite your averted gaze, and in a monotone voice, you say, “She feels bad.”
He doesn’t follow your eyes. “Because she knows I’ve been doing this all for you.”
You blink. Your hand runs down your face before sifting through the strands of your hair. “You really want me to live with you?”
“Of course I do,” he tells you. He’s shaking his head, but you know it’s because he thinks any idea that he wouldn’t want you to be blasphemous. His hand cups your chin. “I love you.”
With a sigh, you push aside the rollercoaster of emotions, the misunderstandings that lead to frustration and hurt, and look him directly in the eye. And where moments ago you thought you saw lies, you see honestly. Where you thought you saw betrayal, you see love.
“Can I see it?”
—
It’s small—a two-bedroom with a little driveway, the shingle siding painted a blue-gray shade that is more blue than gray; bundles of flowers bloom in the boxes under the windows; a bay window protrudes from the side of the structure facing the beach. And it’s perfect.
You can imagine building a life here. You can picture a dog that you’ll have to build a fence for and children years later that will have you reinforcing the fence because they’ll probably be like their father, and Jake didn’t choose to be a pilot because of his lack of adventurous nature. You look at this house and you can see the core of a family. A house that, no matter how far you go for Jake’s job, will always be home base.
Jake is leaning around you so you can both watch the house from the passenger seat window. “I’d offer to show you around, but I don’t get the keys until morning.”
“It’s ok,” you tell him. “I don’t need to see inside.”
When you say that, he falls back into his seat. The back of his head presses against the headrest. His fingers squeeze the steering wheel with his sigh of defeat. “You don’t like it.”
Shifting your body to face him, you say, “Jake, I love it.”
Just like that, his eyes brighten like a pouting child who was just offered a lollipop, and you can’t help but chuckle. You can’t help but forget everything that happened earlier in the night, all of it seeming so insignificant now, even though you know it’s not, and you both know that if he ever makes the same mistake again, he’ll have hell to pay. But something tells you that won’t be a problem.
“Enough to live with me?” he asks.
You nod. “Enough to live with you.”
---
A/N: Thanks for reading! Comments make my entire world, so if you liked it, let me know? Thanks :)
#jake seresin#jake seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin fic#glen powell#top gun maverick#tgm#bradley bradshaw
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libidinal
If Dean could curse every witch on this planet for dosing you and him with an aphrodisiac after ganking them, he would. His entire body was on fire— burning, and his mind was embarrassingly stuck on you. You, your thighs, lips, your ass. It all rattled about in his head like a broken record, and he craved you, craved the relief like crazy.
He knew that you were feeling the same things he was right now, the ache, burn, relentless want that you just couldn’t shake no matter how hard you tried. Ugh, you needed him. Like you’d die if you didn’t have him. Dean felt the same damn way — trust him — like one touch and he’d break the damn best friend code of conduct.
You’d think both of you would have more control of yourselves, considering how you were both hunters who’d faced stuff like vampires and shit. "This is gettin’ on my nerves, sweetheart," he scoffed, eyes fluttering up and down you. You were too hot for this world— and that wasn’t just the pollen talking, but his drugged up mind couldn’t stop.
"Fuck this." he slowly took off his sweat-soaked shirt, looking for signs that you’d jump him. Dean rubbed the sweat off his chest, having no damn right to look that jacked and edible right now, ugh. He can't take all of this crap, including being quarantined in this damn motel room by Sam. It’s for a reason, though.
He groaned, aching, desperate, gesturing for you to keep away so he could resist this damned pollen’s effects. "Oh, m’ gonna kill Sammy if he doesn’t find a cure for this stat." Dean covered his ears, yeah, no. He acted as if covering his ears and blocking out all noise would stop the ache for you, well, it sure didn’t.
Pacing back and forth, he took one look at you— nope, look away, you looked too hot, nope. "Yeah, I’ll kill him." He winced when he got a very R-rated image in his head— he was desperate for you, you, for some relief, mainly sex.
He felt like every second without his hands on your ass was torture— he hoped he wouldn’t go to hell.
“Oh, I’m fine.” You breathed, sarcastic, giving him a look with raised eyebrows. “Just — you know — feeling like my body’s burning alive, I’m sweatin’, my brain hurts.” Your eyes were hungrily searching his bare chest, biting your lip— no, stop, even if you felt on fire and were sweating buckets.
“You’re clearly not,” he retorted. He would’ve found it funny that you were checking him out, but the need was so overwhelming, and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from throwing you onto the nearest surface.
“So… no need to be sarcastic. M’ just trying to control myself.” He muttered under his breath, crossing his arms and keeping the distance between you. “Can’t say the same for you though, sweetheart, ‘cause I can see ya gawkin’.”
“Yeah, just quit it, you look like a five star buffet. A girl can’t help herself when she’s drugged up on an aphrodisiac.” You groaned, dabbing your sweaty-ass neck with a towel, not able to help the way your eyes hungrily drank in his chest. “I’m makin’ do with the view I’ve got while my pussy’s yellin’ at me right now.”
“Christ, darlin’.” He muttered. He felt all fuzzy inside when you said that, he hated how hungry the damn pollen made him for you, for your body. Dean’s eyes darkened, taking in the way you kept looking at him, how you were yearning for him like he was with you. His fingers gripped on the chair he was sitting on, and he leaned forward— he needed to stay on the damn chair.
“And what kinda things is it tellin’ you, hm?” He asked, voice lowering, growling almost. His cock was telling him to go over there, moan in your ear as he thrusted into you, that’s what— but he had to deny himself of such luxurious pleasures. How great.
“To throw away all sense of modern feminism and let you fuck me hard on the floor.” You breathed, moaning softly at getting the words out. “Or letting you bend me over the table. Eat me out on the bed, take me from behind on said bed.” Another desperate moan.
Shit.
Dean almost groaned out loud, damn you. You were going to be the death of him. He was so damn hard right now, and he gripped even tighter on the chair, he would break it if he wasn’t careful.
“Sweet girl, I know you’re not talkin' about feminism when you got your hungry eyes all over me right damn now.” He bit out, clenching his jaw. Dean couldn’t help the fantasies that were running through his mind, especially when you let those moans out.
“I know.” You murmured, nodding, levelling the playing field and taking your shirt off too, leaning back against the bed’s headboard. Shit. Your skin that glistened with sweat, glowing more in the shitty motel light, tits now on display for his hungry-ass eyes. Your head tipped back, eyebrows pinched together tight, lips parted ever so slightly. Shit.
“Goddamn it,” he muttered, eyes drinking in that perfect body of yours like a man who hadn’t had a drop of water in years. He’d seen you in a bikini before and almost lost it, but this view, this view was a sight for sore eyes. One that he was now staring at shamelessly.
His mouth hung agape as his eyes traveled from your chest to your face, he was desperate — all for you. “What’re you gettin’ at?” He asked, voice low and ragged.
“That I’m hot too. A woman can exist with her shirt off.” You scoffed, thighs rubbing together for any friction. C’mon, fuck, you got nothing— guess Dean’s cock was the answer, but not fucking your friend was the first cardinal rule of maintaining a best-friendship. “Oh, I’m gonna kill those witches even if they’re in the afterlife. I—” You let out a small whimper of frustration, the ache building. “God damn.”
“Damn right you’re hot, sweetheart.” he muttered, eyes locked to your thighs, practically drooling— maybe he wasn’t talking about the heat both of you were burning under. Dean’s tongue darted out and wet his dry lips, watching you as you rubbed your thighs against one another for friction. Damn it, it should be him being that friction, if that even made sense— he didn’t know, his brain was sludge. “I know, baby girl, m’ feelin’ what you are, I get it.”
He wanted to reach out and touch you so bad, but he had to get a grip. Sam could come back with a cure— maybe. Could he wait that long? Probably not.
You, however, simply did not have the patience nor the fucks to deal with Sam and his annoying lateness— you needed your best friend, he needed you, you had two holes he could put his dick into — you weren’t doing ass stuff on the first fuck — so it’s a win-win. “Dean, fuck this cure.” You whined, breath hitching as you yanked your sweats down, panties going with, pussy leaking and aching and so very empty. “Can’t wait, I can’t— c’mere. Fuck me, c’mere.”
Ok— yeah— yes, ma’am.
The sight had his eyes getting dark, nearly feral as he quickly stood up from his chair. The chair fell backwards and made a loud thud against the floor, but he couldn’t care less— not when you looked so damn delectable on the bed in front of him. Dean took quick steps towards you, practically ripping off the rest of his shirt.
He kneeled on the bed in front of you, practically pinning you to the bed. He couldn’t help himself. “M’ here, I’m here. Tell me what you want.” He huffed out, hips already bucking against the bed, moaning at the friction as he kissed over your bare tits and up your neck, licking up your neck, sweat on his tongue— yes, it’s disgusting, but he’d ponder on that in retrospect, right now he felt like an animal.
You guided his hand between your legs then kissed him, hotly, hungry, your lips devouring his, hand on the back of his head keeping him there. It was like a dam had broken, your breath harsh and heavy against his lips.
He grunted into the kiss, eyes slipping shut against the onslaught of your lips against his. His hand easily found its way down to you, the second you pushed him where you wanted him. God, his hand ached to be between your thighs.
“M’ here,” he breathed in between hot kisses. “M’ here, sweetheart, I gotcha.” The words were muffled, breathless, as he pushed your thighs apart, finding your wetness, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head. God, he was starved for you, as you were for him, it felt frantic, hazy, like relief that he was finally touching your skin that would go away instantly, as it wasn’t enough. Your scent had his eyes actually rolling back for a second, a pant and a whine leaving his mouth in quick succession as his free hand pushed sweaty hair out of your face, his own spiky from your hand running through it.
He ground his cock against the bed, feeling himself leaking — as were you — and these touches alone honestly had him feeling like he could embarrass himself right here, and come in his pants like a teenager before even getting the chance to fuck you properly.
You nodded against his lips, practically gone and inattentive to anything but him, leaning more of your body weight back against the headboard and pulling — yanking — him with you, panting, desperate. “Need you, baby, please.”
Oh, he needed you too, baby girl.
“Need you too, gorgeous.” he panted, letting you push him around between your legs and wiping sweat off his forehead briefly, wiping that hand on the sheets— shit, that left a pretty dark mark. He bit down on your bottom lip, groaning into the kiss. God, you looked so pretty, so needy and desperate, and you were all for him. He needed to mark you in some way, make you his in every possible way. He needed to.
“You need me inside this pretty pussy, baby?” He asked, his hand already gliding over your slickness, his eyes locked on yours. His fingers pushed inside you, a moan leaving both your mouths as he felt the lack of resistance on your cunt’s part, and how it sucked his fingers in — fuck, you were tight — and he worked your bra off so he could suck and flick his tongue against your nipples one at a time, moaning against the softness of your tits— mmh, that felt so good.
You nodded frantically, cause fuck yeah, moaning, lips still pressed to his as the pressure had you whimpering in relief. “Yes— yes, baby, d-don’t you stop, ok? God, feels so good.”
“I won’t, wasn’t plannin’ on it, baby doll.” he grumbled against your lips. He didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon, not when you felt this good around his fingers, when you sounded so damn pretty.
“Christ, I need you.” His words were nearly a whisper as he pushed down his jeans and boxers. He was so hard, so desperate for you, that he couldn’t hold back anymore. “You ready, baby?” Well, he certainly was, let’s put it that way. He’d been grinding on the bed the whole time he was on top of you.
“So ready.” You nodded, kissing him desperately, hotly again, panting, whimpering, the works. God, you felt like you were on fire, like it wouldn’t stop until you had him— it felt almost primal. Why wouldn’t you be ready, though? You weren’t a woman if you didn’t get soaked for Dean Winchester.
“M’ gonna take care of you, baby girl, I will.” He muttered against your lips, taking deep breaths. The words came out in a near growl and a grunt, he was hungry for you, starved, so he’d let you kiss him breathless, and he’d kiss you back just as fiercely as you.
He needed to give you the relief you needed, the pleasure, the release. He still rubbed at your pussy, all while he continued kissing you, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip.
You moaned against his lips, nails raking down his back, leg hooking over his hip— fuck the cure, fuck Sammy (though the poor guy deserves more credit), you just needed this right now, you felt like you could explode. Spontaneously combust. Lit match to gasoline. “God, don’t wait.”
“I won’t wait. Not anymore.” He grunted as he felt your nails dig into his skin, and your legs wrapped around him. He was so desperate to be inside you, and the sight of you just beneath him, the sounds coming out of your mouth, they just made him throb.
“I got you, I’m gonna take care of you baby doll, m’ gonna take care of you real good.” He panted against your neck, biting down on the skin as he slid into you, his mouth dropping open at the pure relief.
Your head fell back, a long, drawn moan leaving your mouth— you swore it felt like a cooling balm had been slapped on your bodies, or ice cold water. It just felt like a splash of pure relief, and you couldn’t stop chasing it, it felt like euphoria. “Shitfuck.”
“Oh, god,” he groaned, groaned, eyes squeezed shut. He hadn’t felt relief like this in so long, and your moans were like a damn symphony to his ears. He nearly felt like he was in heaven, that you were an angel.
“You’re so perfect — perfect.” He panted against your skin, placing kisses against your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder, as he found a pace. “Feels so good, darlin’, good girl.” It took all the effort in the world for him to not just lose himself and start pounding into you, just to say.
Good girl? You could’ve come right there. Squirted, even.
But no. Your leg hitched higher on his hip, clutching at his shoulder and at the headboard, your forehead pinched, eyes closed as you just felt it, couldn’t stop feeling, desperately letting shameless moans slip past your lips— as if you could control those.
“Yeah, that’s it — give it to me, baby.” he panted, his eyes taking in the sight of you, how you were falling apart. “Take it, take it all, just let me do all the work, yeah, good girl.” One of his hands trailed down your body, to the back of your thigh, holding it up, using it as leverage to push into you.
He wouldn’t last long, he couldn’t. Not with the sounds coming out of your mouth, the way you looked. “You’re so damn pretty when you give it up, baby.”
“Dean,” You couldn’t help but moan, over and over, paired with the occasional shameless “yes”, eventually bringing him in for a hungry, sloppy kiss, feeling the pendant on his necklace cool against your skin.
“Ah—” he groaned against your lips, his kisses almost violent, more teeth than tongue than anything else. God, his name on your pretty lips was sinful, but he wanted to hear it again and again.
His hands continued to touch you everywhere they could, not missing a curve or angle, and just taking in the pure ecstasy of it all. “You look so perfect like this — all for me.” he panted against you, the coolness of the amulet was almost refreshing against his over-heated skin, he’ll had to admit, and seeing it between your tits? God, another bonus.
Ooh, an idea. You used your leg hooked around his waist, plus some hunter training, rolling you both over, immediately gripping the shitty-ass fabric and plush of the pillow so you could begin to move up and down, hitting that angle without missing a beat. “Sh—Shit.”
Oh, oh wow, he had to take a few deep breaths. He didn’t expect you to suddenly roll the two of you over but he certainly wasn’t complaining. You looked so damn perfect on top of him, like a goddamn dream. He gripped onto your hips, helping you move, a moan leaving his lips as you kept up the pace.
“That’s it baby doll, good girl—“ he couldn’t help but babble. “Can’t keep my hands off you.” He panted, staring up at you. “Doing all the work, look at you— I ain’t gonna last, sweetheart, please tell me you’re almost there.”
“M’ almost there.” The sentence came out as a moan, seeing him in his glory, amulet on his chest, all ridges of muscle and soft skin, your other hand gripping the headboard as you moved, assisted by his hands on your hips, calloused pads of his fingers pressing into your skin. “P—Please, baby, a—almost there, so, so close—”
“Just— just come with me, please— please—” He panted, his hands gripping your hips so tight, he knew that he’d leave marks, but he’d deal with it later. Right at that moment, he was just lost in the feeling.
“Come on, give it to me, baby, I wanna see it, wanna feel it.” He was desperate, but a gentleman, he wanted you to reach it first. You were absolutely too gorgeous for words, and he was nearly going feral— his mouth went dry. “Good girl, good girl, good girl, c’mon — oh, c’mon—”
The coil in your stomach snapped as you came, pure, unbridled euphoria and uninhibited ecstasy, your eyes rolling back, hips stuttering and pressing into his hands as your thighs shook, but you kept on to get him there. “O-Oh, baby, c-c’mon, Dean, please— please—”
Sweet mother of god.
Your voice, your movements, your face, it all just pushed him over that final edge, and a loud moan tore out of his throat as he rode it out. “God, baby doll, god—” was all he could manage.
He didn’t even realise his eyes fluttered shut. He was panting heavily, his chest rising and falling, the amulet resting gently between his pectorals. “Oh god, baby girl, c’mere— come here.” He muttered, hands gripping your hips, pulling you down. He just wanted to feel you against him— wait, what? The burn wasn’t going, it just wasn’t.
“Dean.” You whined, letting out a frustrated moan. “S’wasn’t enough, I can still feel it. Still feel it, baby.” You panted, keeping yourself up. Well, of course this thing wasn’t a one-and-done. You already broke all the cardinal rules of friendship without compunction, but now you had to do it again? Wow. Great going.
“I know sweetheart, I know.” He breathed, eyes opening, and looking up at you, the corners of his lips slightly turned up. He could feel it too, it was like something was missing, and he didn’t know what it was.
He pulled you down, and held you against his chest as he caught his breath. One of his hands moved to the side of your face, and he gently guided you into a soft kiss, the other hand moving down and squeezing your ass. “God, I need you so goddamn much.”
“Mhmm. Need you too.” You whined, your kisses becoming more insistent, needier— ok, don’t blame you, it seems to affect women more. “Can you— need you t’ take over, Dean.”
A small smirk appeared on his lips as you began to become more needy. “Don’t mind if I do, sweetheart.” He growled against your lips. He pushed you off of him, and rolled the two of you over, so you were now beneath him again, and his body was above yours.
“You want me to take over, huh?” He questioned, his lips moving to your neck, leaving nips and open-mouthed kisses over the skin. “You want me to take care of you?” His hips started snapping against you, a groan leaving his lips, cause oh, Jesus.
Woah, ok, you could get used to this. Especially with how you moaned, nodding desperately, leaving red marks on his shoulders and arms, his amulet touching the valley of your now bouncing tits with every thrust again, head tipping back as his cock brushed your cervix, hearing his grunts and pants in your ear mixed with your moans.
He couldn’t help the smirk that stayed on his lips as you clawed at his skin. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you? You like it when I take care of you?” He questioned, his mouth against your neck, his hips snapping against you, desperate to hear the pretty sounds leaving your lips.
“Tell me how much you like it, baby girl, go on.” His words were punctuated by a sharp bite to your shoulder, the other hand gripping your hip.
“Love it, Dean, fuck.” You gasped, your eyes rolling back, the knot in your stomach coming faster this time, scratching at his hips, the hot-ass dip in his back— anything you could reach, really, you weren’t picky.
“That’s it baby girl, there you go—“ he panted, his hips thrusting against yours, just pushing you closer and closer, his mouth against your skin still, leaving open-mouthed kisses and harsh bites.
The sounds you were making were just pushing him closer and closer, he was just desperate for you, and he couldn’t control the words that blurted out of his mouth. “God, you look so damn perfect baby, so damn pretty, so much better than I ever dreamed—“ Sure, he just revealed that he’d thought about this, but he still put your legs over his shoulders, leaning forward, splitting you in half and thrusting into you.
The new angle made your mouth fall open in a perfect ‘o’, and the feeling just overwhelmed your brain, made your body go positively wild, and you could swear some drool dribbled from the corner of your mouth. “D-Dean—”
Christ, he’s never seen anything so pretty.
He groaned as he took in the sight of you, your legs over his shoulders. “You like that, huh? You like it when I—“ his words were cut off with a strangled moan, you were just so perfect, he was never going to be able to get enough.
He managed to make a few more noises, some of them resembling your name, before he just dropped his forehead to your shoulder. “Baby— baby, need to come again in you, can I?“
You made a noise that sounded like a moaned yes, and you’d never known that being split in half by a guy would ever feel this good, your hands braced on the underside of your thighs. Well, that was a confirmation.
He groaned as he felt you nod against his shoulder, words being lost on him after that. That was a yes, a good, proper yes. He didn’t even know what he was saying, all that he knew was that he needed to give you it. So he just gave it to you hard, and fast, not letting up an inch. “Good girl, good girl, you’re doing so good, taking it so well, baby doll—” all the while, he panted against your skin.
He groaned against your skin, his mouth pressed to your shoulder. Hearing that, feeling you around him, he was done for, he was gone— “Yeah, baby, oh, you’re so good, so good, feels so damn good, I’m coming baby, I’m gonna—“
He let out a strangled moan, and his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight as he rode it out, burying his face into the crook of your neck, panting, grunting, smoothing your hair back as he spilled into you with a low moan.
You stroked his hair, helping him come down from it, feeling tired out— I mean, at least the pollen’s fucked out, right? Just… you hated witches now. You get Dean’s point— you didn’t before, but now you do.
He let out a weary groan, breathing still laboured and his skin was still flushed. When he came to and registered that you were stroking his hair, he let his head fall onto your chest, his head against your tits. Mm, like a pillow, feels s’nice.
“God, that was intense.” He whispered against your skin. “You okay, sweetheart?” He was spent, absolutely boneless and limp, and just content to lay there and bask in the aftermath of what you’d just done.
“Better than before.” You breathed, nodding, rubbing your cheek. “S’ not as sore as I thought it’d be, if I’m bein’ honest. But now I get why you hate witches.”
He let out a chuckle, which just sounds more like a quiet scoff, and he lifted his head up to look at you, a slight smirk on his lips. “Oh yeah? You get it now, huh?” His head returned to its original position after a few moments, and he nuzzled against you, an arm wrapping around your waist. “Not sore, huh? I didn’t go too hard on ya, did I?”
“No, but, uh…” You grinned cheekily. “Being carried to the bath would be much appreciated.” Oh, the little shit.
Of course.
He lifted his head to look at you, an entertained and amused look on his face. “Oh, you’re gonna be real cute, aren’t you?” He questioned, and then in a quick movement, he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and holding you against his chest.
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Gojo buying (y/n) souvenirs after every mission and finding out she kept EVERYTHING
Pairing: Gojo x reader (fem!pronouns)
Word Count: 1,2k
Synopsis: Since your joyful smile is so addictive, Satoru can't help but buy you a souvenir every time he goes on a mission. After a few months, he realizes by accident that you do, in fact, keep everything he gifts you...
Warnings: this is fluffness overload so be prepared, (y/n) has a really bubbly and Mitsuri-like personality, let me know what you thiiiiink and enjoy your holidays🤍
Your heart jumps up and down in joy, feet carrying you down the hallway at lightspeed. Finally he’s back. How long has it been since you’ve last seen him? Definitely too long.
“Satoru!”, you cry out.
There he stands, his arms already wide open while wearing the casual sly grin you adore so much. You can’t contain yourself any longer, your giggles filling his very own heart with nothing but joy.
Satoru doesn’t remember exactly how it all started. After some random mission, he saw a little figure of your favourite animal standing innocently in a show window. He didn’t think much of it, bought it only because it reminded him of you. But oh, you were so joyful back then.
“Are you kidding me?”, you breathed out, glossy eyes staring at the pretty ugly figure so heartfelt that Satoru couldn’t help but shamelessly stare at you.
“It reminded me of you since I know it’s your favourite animal, so yeah…You like it?”
“Like it?”
You grabbed his hands with so much passion that he almost fell backwards, jumping up and down in delight.
“I love it, Satoru! This is probably the nicest thing someone ever did for me!”
It was inevitable from there on. The urge to see your heartfelt joy after every mission became an obsession, forcing him to look into every window, into every shop on the haunt for something you might like. To be honest it made everything more bearable. The loss of his best friend, the people around him dying, all the things that keep him up at night seem to disappear when he’s looking for souvenirs to bring you.
And this.
You almost knock him over by the way you let yourself fall into his arms, hands intertwined behind his back just the way he likes it. Oh, your smell is so intoxicating, as well as your gorgeous appearance sends warm shivers down his spine. How is it even possible that you seem to get more and more breath-taking every time he sees you?
“I was so worried about you! Why didn’t you answer your calls?”, you mumble against the fabric of his uniform, instantly greeted by the singing smell of curses.
“Oh y’know, I had to do a little work from now and then. Like killing off some demons and saving a whole town from getting wiped out. So sorry I didn’t call you back”, he teases you gently.
“That didn’t stop me from getting something for you, though…”
Your eyes widen in sheer excitement, head darting towards him instantly.
“No, you didn’t”, you mutter, lips already forming the most adorable smile.
“Heck yeah I did.”
“I told you over and over that you don’t need to do that, Satoru!”
“Do you like them?”
You bite your lip in a miserable attempt to suppress the wide grin that creeps up your face, cheeks turning the shade of pink that makes Satoru lose his mind. You are so breath-taking, so pure that it warms his heart.
“Of course I do”, you mumble into your hand.
“There you go.”
He hands you a small box, the brush of his tender touch against your hand sending electricity right through your body. With trembling fingers, you open the light blue ribbon wrapped around it, exposing a simple yet stunning necklace. You desperately try to hold back tears, so moved that you are utterly speechless.
This necklace isn’t this simple. No, engraved into it in Satoru’s iconic handwriting, it says “every thought, you”.
“You can’t be serious about this, Satoru. I really don’t deserve this.”
“You deserve this and even more, (y/n). Do you like it?”
“You ask me if I like it?”, you repeat breathless.
Your finger brushes over the engraving carefully, feeling every curve and every stroke of his elegant hand writing. This must have been expensive – way too expensive for a simple souvenir. But oh how much you love it already, you’ll keep this close to your heart day in and day out.
“I love it. Thank you so much.”
There’s no time to waste. With a swift motion you lunge yourself at him all over again, burying your face against his broad chest. You truly don’t deserve his kindness, his affection. What an outstanding man he is, so tender that it makes you tear up.
“I’d do anything to make you smile”, he mutters into your hair, hands stroking your back ever so gently.
Smile…Oh, you almost forgot!
“Would you…Would you mind coming to my dorm for a second? There’s something I want to give you as well.”
You wipe your tears away unladylike, your hand grabbing his before he’s even able to answer your question.
“Something you want to give to me? Remember when I told you you don’t have to buy me anything?”
“Remember when I told you the same?”, you remark with a slight grin, literally dragging him into your room.
In fact, you stumbled upon this cute figure of a white cat the other day. There was no way you’d leave without buying it, not when it reminded you so much of him.
You swing your drawer open without thinking twice, grabbing the cute little cat with your face glowing in proud.
“Okay, now that’s adorable”, Satoru laughs gently.
Somehow, his eyes get stuck on your drawer though. It looks messy, almost flooding over with all the pieced cramped into it. But no, that isn’t some random rubbish. That figure that stands in the middle of it, it looks so familiar. As well as all those letters, the sweets, the postcards…
It dawns to him, heart skipping a beat. These are all the souvenirs he brought you over the last few years.
“Don’t tell me you kept everything I gave you.”
Oh, please tell him you did.
“Huh?”
Your innocent eyes dart towards the drawer behind you, your cheeks instantly heating up all over again.
“Oh…of course I kept them! Why would I ever throw them away?”
“You even kept the packages of the sweets from last months…”
His heart almost overspills with love. You have to be an angel, too pure and kind for this world. Just one look into your tender eyes is enough to sweep him off his feet, the little cat he holds in his hand sending him over the edge.
“I just love to get reminded of you I guess.”
“And I love you, (y/n). You have to be the most precious human being I’ve ever met.”
The way your eyes widen and your mouth shoots open is priceless. You look so utterly surprised that he can’t help but chuckle while wrapping his strong arms around you all over again.
“Y-you, loving me?”, you stutter.
“Well, I was hoping you’d love me too-“
“I do”, you interrupt him immediately.
“I love you more than any souvenir!”, you babble out.
“That’s what a man needs to hear”, he laughs softly.
Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @chilichopsticks
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#jujutsu gojo#jjk gojo#gojo saturo#gojou satoru x reader#jjk fluff#jjk comfort#jujutsu kaisen gojo#satoru#satoru gojo#happy birthday gojo#gojo satoru x reader#satoru x reader#satoru x you#satoru x y/n#satoru fluff#gojo fluff#gojo x you#gojo jjk
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34 / 3.2k / part 2 of shark mermen Gaz and Soap for mermay >:)
...
You wake up to the morning sunlight glimmering off Gaz's salt-glazed skin. He's leaning over you, watching you intently with those fathomless all-black eyes.
You gasp and immediately drag yourself away--or try to, given the way his tail is wound under your legs like a snake's. In your haste, you bump up against Soap, who lurks behind you, somehow again taking you by total surprise.
Your heels scrape against sharp gravel as you fight to get out of reach. Gaz's tail coils inward as if to drag you back in, and you almost collapse over it in your scramble. But you finally manage to get out of reach. You stare down at them, your heart pounding in confusion and panic.
Soap smirks like this is the most fun he's had in weeks. His tail swishes in the shallows behind him. "G'morning."
This is a nightmare. A hallucination.
"Don't look so shocked," Soap says. "You've still got all your pieces. You really should try being more thankful. We saved your life."
"Saved my--" You cough and sputter. Salt and sand coat your throat. "You tried to kill me!"
"You would've died anyway," Gaz says. His matter-of-fact tone of voice is somehow more terrifying than Soap's high-energy arrogance.
"We were havin' a little look at you," Soap says. "That's all."
"You bit me!"
"Just a nip," Gaz admits. "I was curious."
"I wasn't," Soap says with a flash of his sharp teeth. He looks down at the second set of teeth marks--his teeth marks--on your calf. "That's a love bite."
⬇ nsfw, monster mermen, overt predator/prey dynamics, blood kink ⬇
You pull your legs in, withdrawing further up the rocky beach as you get to your feet. You don't have much space to get away from them. Worse, this tiny cove will be all but swallowed by high tide. The only way out is either back into the water or up the rocky face of the cliffs on all sides. You can only imagine the rock cutting into your bare hands and feet--or worse, climbing halfway up, slipping, and landing on the carpet of glass-sharp gravel.
There’s nowhere to go.
Soap stretches toward you again as you back away. He does it in this motion like a shrug, like he's luring you into a false sense of security by making you think he just happens to be putting his hands near your ankle. He can’t hide how the muscles in his shoulders bunch, wanting to pounce. "You'd have a better chance jumping back into the sea and holding your breath than climbing those rocks, human. Maybe you outswim us this time, even. Want to try?"
"I'll take my chances," you snap. His claw brushes your foot, and you quickly backpedal, climbing up onto the biggest boulder you can manage. It's only about as waist-high, though, and unsteady. Not quite tall enough to boost you toward any solid footholds up the forty-or-so-foot cliffside. Still, you have to try.
Gaz watches with annoyance as you reach for a shallow indent in the rock. "You'll kill yourself. Be reasonable," he scolds.
Your fingers find uncertain purchase in the shallow ridge overhead, and you force your toes to get with the program and grip what might be a rocky shelf to your side.
The two mer watch you haul yourself up a few feet. Soap pushes himself up the beach to get a better view, tail curling. Gaz studies the muscles in your legs. Then he watches your hands grip the rocks. You look even more defenseless in the sunlight, skin battered from exposure and clothes torn from the waves. His eyes follow the curve of your calf to the blood that's dried on your ankle. It looks bad.
He doesn't see you making it high enough for the inevitable fall to kill you, but it irritates him that you're choosing to act like this. You're fragile. Obviously, if he and Soap wanted to kill you, you'd be dead. They did their best to not kill you. He did, anyway.
"You think we'd let you drown when the tide comes in after keeping your fragile human body alive and intact this long?" Gaz calls up.
You ignore this in favor of boosting yourself up another foot. Your fingers slip on the next hold. Gravel clatters down the rock and showers both mer.
Soap smirks. "Gonnae fall, aye?”
Gaz's voice is flat. "Let her."
You make it up another two footholds before you slip.
Soap's smirk morphs into a wild laugh as you topple backward. You land on the rocks, hard, air knocked out of you with a surprised gasp. Both mer prowl toward you.
You dig the heels of your hands into the wet sand to scramble to your feet again. A sudden, sharp pain makes you hiss. You rip your hands out of the gravel to see a shard of curved glass sticking out of your palm of your dominant hand. Blood stains the base and wells up, trailing down your wrist.
Soap clocks the smell of blood. "What d'you want to try next, hmm?" he muses, tail swishing behind him. "Hurry up before the tide comes in or that cut'll attract somethin' unfriendly."
You glare at him. You want to scream. Or cry. You need help, but what are the chances the rescue boats will come back this way?
"So?" you snap, hiding your hand against your chest as he leans closer. "What does it matter to me if you eat me or something else does?"
"We don't care to eat you," Gaz says. "And if we did, we wouldn't share."
"Don't know about that, Gaz," Soap purrs. "You think she looks delicious, don't ya?"
You look from one to the other, still clutching your bleeding hand. "Why would you bring me here if you didn't want to eat me?"
"Curiosity." Gaz's eyes dart back to your face. “I told you.”
Frustration burns in your chest. "You bit me. You dragged me around the water. What else is fucking left to be curious about?"
Gaz hesitates. To him, you are a sight. Tattered clothes clinging to your damp body, he can see more of you than when he first spied you on that little boat, sitting so carelessly with your legs dangling in the water.
He stares at the bite wound on your arm. It's not just a “nip” like Soap’s--it's deep. A bite that left a deep, dark, ugly mark surrounded by a ring of dark blue-purple bruising. It will scar. The memory of his teeth will always be in your skin. He can still taste you: fresh adrenaline, copper blood, and seawater.
"What you feel like." His voidlike eyes are half-lidded, his voice soft. "Up close."
You glance back at him, your heart pounding. You're defenseless right now--you have been since they threw you onto this beach. So there has to be some truth to what they're saying, right? You remember reading somewhere that sharks are curious. That they sometimes investigate with their teeth, biting without any real intent to injure. So... maybe...
Soap leans in behind you and skims his clawed fingertip up your arm, his voice just past the shell of your ear. "We can take you back to shore, easy. We just need to clean those wounds. How about it," he purrs into your ear. "Gonnae help us help you?"
You shy away from his touch, feeling goosebumps break out all over. "Okay. Okay, fine." You glance down at your hand, then at Soap. "But not... not you."
You look at Gaz, hesitant, but your meaning is clear.
Soap's smirk twists into a frown. "Why not me?"
Gaz snatches your wrist. "Come here, then."
You find yourself pulled into the arms of a shark again as Gaz shuffles you into the crook of his arm. You're awed at how much bigger than humans these shark mer are. He coils his tail under you both. He grips your bloodied wrist in one hand and plants the other firmly on your hip to slide you even more flush against him. Any protest you had dies in your throat as he repositions your injured hand in his and plucks the glass out in a single, rough motion. A gasp punches out of you. The noise has Gaz pulling you closer, his arm wrapped tight around you.
You tense up, watching the claws on his hands very carefully, but he seems to maneuver you in such a careful, conscientious way to keep from hurting you with them that, once he has you positioned on his tail, you relax somewhat. They really are being careful with you, you realize. Some of the tension leaves your shoulders. You breathe out through your teeth. You can let this happen. Some people would love to be in your position, even. There's something tender but not quite gentle in how he grips you and how his thumb presses into your thigh.
He tucks your head under his chin. A low hum vibrates in his chest. Something about the sound is soothing. Or at least distracting enough that you don't notice him moving your hand to his mouth until his hot tongue laves over your wound.
Your blood--in his mouth--and roaring in your ears. How did you let yourself be tricked into letting a shark lap up your blood while he’s holding you close enough that you can see the beads of sea water clinging to the scarred ridges of his chest?
Even Gaz is somewhat surprised at the way his tongue instinctively scrapes over your wound to stem the blood flow. It's not an entirely animal compulsion to lick the wound clean--it's a practical enough way to clear away the blood. Tasting you is a bonus. That's what he tells himself as he trails his tongue down your arm to catch what's dripping down in rivulets to your elbow.
You squirm at the sting. Gaz tightens his grip.
"Is that all you were curious about, then?" Soap asks, sliding closer. He's talking to Gaz but looks down at you with glimmering solid blue eyes.
"Steady," he breathes, his voice still rough. He can smell your nervousness. He can feel your heart pounding. "She's got cuts all over. Let me..."
You feel his hands begin to peel away your tattered clothes and slide under them. You bite down on a squeal, grabbing his wrist. "Hey--!"
Before you can voice your protests fully, Soap's fingers brush the small bite mark on your ankle. You jolt, pulling your legs away and hugging them to yourself. Distracted by this, Gaz lets his free hand glide over the outside of your leg. His calloused fingers follow the curve of your hip, your thigh, your calf. He tugs your leg free so he can study the underside, too. He runs the pads of his fingers all the way back up to the bend of your knee, along the flesh of your hamstring, across the inside of your thigh. You shiver.
At the same time, Soap tugs at the bottom of your tattered shirt with interest. "Why d'you humans wear cloth? Is it because your skin is too thin?" Before you can reconsolidate yourself enough to answer, he scoffs. "All the good it does you. Shreds easier than seaweed."
“Mm,” Gaz agrees absently. He shifts you so your back is back braced up against his chest, your legs bunched up atop his tail. This way, he can keep you here and keep his hands free. He’ll have as much access to you as he needs.
At this angle, you feel rather than see the smooth dark planes of Gaz's chest and stomach. It should be wrong to notice the scars that run over his arms as they pass over you. Or the way his muscles ripple under your back. His body is a dichotomy: warm to the touch and smooth as fine silk, but rough and coarse with scars. Plus there’s the shark half.
Soap snatches up one of your ankles. He prods at your foot. "You get around on these?"
You huff. "When I can, clearly."
He runs the edge of one of his claws over the top of your foot, follows the arched bone underneath, and presses into your instep. He pokes and prods and presses hard on the ball of your foot with a curious look. "Must be slow."
"Doesn't have to be fast," you mutter.
"Then how d'you catch food?"
"I don't have to catch my food."
"You're a predator, though. You've got eyes facing forward."
"I can hunt what I need to hunt.” Salads and instant noodles, but you don’t bother saying that.
"That's good." Soap's hands slide to your toes. He finds it weird how your feet sort of resemble his hands. Little fingers and claws and everything. "As long as you've got prey slower and smaller and softer than you are."
"If that's even possible," Gaz says.
You scowl. Rude.
Gaz seems to enjoy your sour reaction a little too much. "I suppose your prey must be stupid, too."
"Watch it."
A smirk plays at his lips as his gaze flicks down to the rest of you, curled up on his lap in his arms. "Do you think you can make me? What'll you do--scratch me with your claws?" He laces your fingers with his. Your soft, blunt human fingers and his thicker, sharper, callused ones. "Bite me with your razor-sharp teeth?"
"Maybe."
"How vicious." He nudges your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "Go on, then."
You consider it. Then you realize it would just prove his point, so you turn your face away with a huff. You wish you'd paid more attention to all those National Geographic specials about mer. You don't specifically remember any real-life cases of shark mer eating humans, but there are definitely made-for-TV movies about it.
Soap's hands creep up to your calf. His thumbs prod your shin and then your kneecap. "I can feel her bones," he says in surprise.
"We both have bones.”
"Well, yours are like rock. Ye got thin skin, hard bones. 'Cept your claws." Soap's fingers wander up your bare legs past your kneecaps. When they make it to your thigh, he grips it with his whole hand and squeezes lightly.
He's fascinated--amazed, even--by your body. It's almost enough to make you feel self-conscious, but everything you'd cover up is a fascination for them. Bumps, stretch marks, pock marks, folds, fat, stubble--you feel yourself tense up when hands wander to those parts of yourself you've learned to be ashamed of, but they don't react. Of course they don't, but still. It feels strange.
Gaz notices your discomfort. He keeps his grip light and loose on you, but his eyes linger on the flesh of your thigh in Soap's hands, the way your skin dimples under the pressure. "It's like a seal,” Gaz says.
"My thigh is like a seal?"
"Soft and blubbery,” Soap adds. "And seals are delicious." He leans down and pinches a bit of skin in his teeth.
You squirm a bit at the harmless little nip, but moreso at the way his hand slides a little too far up your thigh. You put your uninjured hand over his to stop it from going any higher.
Unfortunately, that just seems to draw his attention to what might be up there. His eyes flick up to your shorts. "What is it?"
"Nothing."
"Doesn't seem like nothing." He grabs the hem of your shorts to slide them higher.
You grab his hands. "Hey!"
He grins. "You're a bit twitchy.”
"That's not allowed," you tell him, face burning.
"Isn't it?" Gaz says. He loops his long fingers under your thigh and lifts it up as if to give Soap more room. "Whose rule is that?"
You quickly snap your thighs shut anyway, curling your legs into yourself as best you can. "My rule. Don't touch."
A low noise of frustration rumbles in Soap's chest. "Why do humans cover up so much?" His hands slide up your outer thighs, and he bends until his face is almost level with your stomach. His frown deepens as if this were the thing he was really curious about. "Just let me look for a second."
"Absolutely not."
"Waste of nice soft human skin," he mutters. "Hiding it all away."
“Let us in,” Gaz says.
“No.”
"Not even me?" he asks.
"No."
They both frown.
"Why not?” Gaz asks. “What are you keeping there?"
You huff. "It's my-- my reproductive things. Happy?"
"Your... reproductive things." Soap furrows his brow and turns his head to Gaz. "Reproductive like a fish?"
Gaz's fingers continue to squeeze your inner thighs in slow, deliberate motions. "No," he says after a beat. "Like a mammal."
"Ah. So?" Soap gives you a blank look. "Those are all up inside you then, aye? Nothin' to see."
He takes hold of your knee again. You immediately pull out of his grasp and turn to the side, sitting up on your knees this time as Gaz shifts his tail to accommodate you. "Nothing to see as far as you're concerned," you respond, curt.
Soap continues to leer at you, but his prodding is less insistent at your clear refusal. "Just tell us then. Where is it exactly? In the front? Or the back?"
You cross your arms. "None of your business."
"Don't humans mate for fun?" Soap asks.
“I didn't say that.”
"They doooo," Soap singsongs. He smiles and bares his teeth, the sharp points on his canines glinting in the light.
All the heat that had gone out of your cheeks comes rushing back in. " Do you?"
Soap grins again in that annoying way. "We do. Very fun. So what's the big deal?”
"We're not mating is what," you snap. You push yourself off of Gaz’s lap and stumble a bit, catching yourself with a splash into the deepening tide. "When are you taking me back home?"
Soap looks disappointed at the possibility of being deprived so suddenly of his new toy.
Gaz frowns too. "Now you're talking like you didn't enjoy yourself." He pushes himself up and follows you into the water, his fins cutting through it smoothly. "But a deal is a deal. We’ll take you back to shore. Once night falls, of course."
"But it's morning!"
"So it is." Gaz circles your legs, forming a crescent around you as he comes to a rest on his side in the shallow water. He smirks at you like he finds your confusion endearing in a tedious way. "Night will come again. We've got time until then."
"But the tide will come in," you remind them, casting a look back at the tiny little cove.
"It will,” Gaz agrees.
You don't like the way his smirk grows. Soap grins, too.
A slow realization that you're being toyed with comes over you. "What am I supposed to do, then?"
Gaz's smirk turns to a lazy little grin to match Soap’s. "Keep letting us entertain you.”
You hem and haw, but ultimately, when they pull you back into the shallow water with them, you don’t fight it. You’d rather conserve your energy.
Soap's hands join Gaz's, running up your strange human legs again. "We're going to keep her. Right, Gaz?"
"Of course," Gaz murmurs. The sea doesn't like to release its gifts. "Why would we bother leaving a catch intact without keeping it?"
...
part 1 / [part 2] / part 3 / part 4 / part 5
more Gaz / more Soap / more mer au / masterlist tag
#mine#story#mermay#mermay 2024#monster lover#monster fucker#merman#kyle gaz garrick#johnny soap mactavish#john soap mactavish#fem reader#x reader#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#tf 141 x reader#teratophillia#terato#monster romance#monster x reader#soap x gaz x reader
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love bites | spencer reid x reader
word count: 2k, rating: 18+/explicit
tags: established relationship, hickeys, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, overstimulation
a/n: hello again... i'm back with another pwp fic... idk where this came from ngl, but i sort of ran away with this idea of spencer leaving hickeys and this happened lol. also i've been having chip taylor (mgg's character in 68 kill, a guy who has the biggest, wettest eyes and fucks like a madman) on the brain lately so this is definitely inspired by him too ❤️
(p.s: you can also find this fic on ao3!)
Spencer always wants to give you everything you want. He’s eager to please, with those wide puppy-dog eyes that stare up at you, that gaze that makes your insides warm, the tension between you two that makes you want to spread your legs. Not like you would put up a fight anyway.
He was already such a sweetheart on the date you just came home from, a nice dinner at a nice restaurant. Spencer was a proper gentleman, who was playing footsie with you under the table. You’d wanted to jump his bones the moment you’d left the restaurant. You hoped Spencer would get the hint, from the way you were tracing circles with your fingers onto his thighs on the drive back to his place.
“Baby,” you hum, while Spencer kisses down your neck. He always treats you like a princess, makes you feel so revered.
Sometimes, he loses himself in making you feel good. You have to call his name again – “Spencer–!” you say, in a whimper, before he responds.
“Hmm?”
“Are you leaving marks?” You ask. You feel a little conscious about it, because having to wear a turtleneck to work in the summer heat is definitely funny, but kind of embarrassing.
Spencer’s lips pause against your neck. He murmurs, “Do you want me to?” and you feel his warm breath on your skin as he says it. Your hair stands on end, your body reacting to how close Spencer is to you.
Spencer pulls away, and you mourn the loss of his warmth for a moment. He looks at you, the hazel of his eyes so deep and sweet that you feel like you could lose yourself in them. “Then I can leave them in places that you don’t have to worry about.”
“What? Where?” You ask, but your mind starts running already. His lips on your body. His gaze, scorching as he stares up at you.
He doesn’t give a verbal response, rather lets his hands fall to your waist and slips his thumbs under the waist-cutouts of your dress. Where the tips of his fingers touch your skin, you feel like you’re burning with desire already. Spencer asks, “Can I?”
“Please.” Your voice comes out breathier than you’d like.
Spencer pushes your dress up, revealing your thighs, your stomach. His fingers skirt over your skin softly, the touch almost ticklish. The dress goes up, up, up, until Spencer helps you tug it over your head. Even with the sweet gesture, him getting you undressed is making you flush, the attention he gives you and the lust in his gaze making your stomach flip.
Spencer’s lips find their way back to your neck. You hold your breath as he kisses his way down the column of your neck, taking his time. He kisses your collarbone, then the top of your breast. He nips the skin between his teeth.
“Someone’s bitey,” you gasp, trying to joke.
“Did you know that while the Brits call hickeys ‘love bites’ , you don’t actually need to bite to break the superficial blood vessels under the skin’s surface? Suction is often sufficient to cause bruising.” Spencer murmurs, as if the fun fact is absolutely necessary to him giving you a hickey on your breast. It’s cute to you, though. It kind of turns you on.
“‘Love bites’ are a cute name for hickeys, though.” You laugh. “And sucking… Isn’t that kind of gross?”
Spencer’s eyes flit up to meet yours. “I think it’s hot… I mean, being so desperate to mark you up, that I can’t control myself. Being willing to do anything to make it known that you’re mine.”
Arousal washes over you. “Jesus Christ, Spencer.”
He surges forward to kiss you, slow and languid and kind of sloppy. Still, you can feel the desperation behind his movements, his eagerness as he basically eats your face off. Spencer pulls back panting, eyes studying your face, your shirtless figure, your breasts in your bra. He stares greedily. You’re wet between your legs already.
Spencer dips his head down to press his lips to where your breast spills out of the cup of your bra, flicking his tongue over a spot he’s chosen. His front teeth graze over your skin gently. Spencer nips the skin between his teeth, sucking softly. It makes your hair stand on end – the wet sounds coming from his mouth, the heat of his breath on your skin, the slow but pleasurable twinge of pain that sinks in when he sucks a mark into your breast.
It’s erotic, the way your hand is tangled in Spencer’s hair, holding him close to you as he continues to mark up your chest with his mouth. Spencer’s hair is so soft between your fingers, slightly messy and curling at the ends. He’d moved on to mark up your other breast, his large hand cupping you perfectly, like you were made for him.
Spencer litters hickeys all over you, on your tits, your stomach, and he kisses along the waistband of your panties when he gets to them. You only have to whimper to get him to slide them off as well. He kisses your hip bone, while his hand on your other side feels you up. You feel Spencer slide his hand from the swell of your ass, to feeling the meat of your thigh, before his hand comes around and pushes your leg out to spread your legs.
“Babe,” you moan, as Spencer bites down gently on your plushy inner thigh. His tongue laps over where he had bitten, acting to soothe you from any pain, and he sucks a mark into your thigh. You see the marks of his teeth and the redness of the spot, the beginnings of a bruise. He moves over to your other thigh to give you another mark, then his lips trace their way closer to the heat between your legs, giving you more marks on the way up.
You gasp when he presses a kiss to your clit, your wetness extremely obvious to you now as he blows cool air to tease you. You shiver. Spencer laughs, “Needy. You’re so wet.”
“Because of you, baby,” you sigh, running your hand through his hair to push it back, letting you admire his gorgeous bone structure and those wide eyes of his. “Need you.”
Spencer hums, smiling to himself, as he settles himself between your spread legs. His hand comes up to your heat, two fingers spreading your lips before he leans in, licking a fat stripe up across your hole, to your clit. You moan shakily as he flicks at your clit, playing with you, the tip of his sharp tongue making pleasure jolt through your body.
You let out a sigh when he presses his face deeper because you didn’t think he could get any closer, and you feel his mouth on your cunt– slurping, licking, breathing heavily as he eats you out fervently. He gives you head like he was born to do it. The way he pleasures you makes your head spin, amidst all the slick, wet noises, and Spencer’s own eagerness to make you feel good.
You lock eyes with Spencer, his piercing gaze meeting yours from between your tits. It’s almost funny, but you’re too turned on to even joke about it. You tighten your grasp in his hair. He whimpers, a sound you never get tired of hearing, and the vibrations to your cunt make you shiver.
You want him in you, now. You tell him that. Spencer pulls away, his wide eyes seeming dark and serious.
He wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand, shiny with your slick and fluids. You watch the pink of his tongue dart out as he licks his lips. You whimper a little as he gets onto his knees between your spread legs, his nice button-up, slacks and boxers off and on the floor. You admire the smooth lines of his body, the softness of his stomach, his happy trail leading down to where he’s hard and leaking into his hand.
There are no words exchanged, just a knowing glance that tells Spencer to hurry and do it. Spencer’s always been good at following instructions, and he knows you and your likes like the back of his hand. You know he always wants to please.
One hand on your hip, Spencer’s other hand guides his cock to your hole. He teases the head of his cock over your clit, circling over your entrance. You can only imagine how wet and sticky you are down there, with Spencer’s cock making you even more of a mess.
He puts the head in, watches intently as he slides in, and you look up at Spencer, breathing hard. He stops for a moment and begins to pull out, only the tip inside of you. He’s such an ass. You glare at him. Spencer grins cheekily.
“Spencer–” His name leaves your lips brokenly as he suddenly presses himself deeper, in, in, in, until his cock is bottoming out and you feel so incredibly full. “Fuck me.”
Spencer grunts, eyebrows furrowed as he starts fucking into you. He goes hard and fast, knowing that’s how you like it: his skin slapping against yours, the slick sounds of his cock pounding into your hole downright obscene. Even while you shake from the force he’s putting into fucking you, Spencer’s face reads like he’s trying hard to keep it together, trying to concentrate on making you feel as good as he feels.
His mouth falls open as he grips the headboard, fucking you relentlessly. You hold onto his biceps for dear life, close to screaming as he rails you. Spencer moans, as your fingernails dig into his arms in your desperate need, “Fuck, you feel so good. So tight, angel. All wet for me.”
“Spencer, fuck, oh my God–!” You cry out, helpless, horny, feeling like you’re in heaven as Spencer fucks you just how you want, just how you need. His cock hits all the right places, deep inside of you, fucking you open like you’re made for him.
And then, your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your body jolting with the pleasure that overtakes you. It’s so good, Spencer ramming into you till the overstimulation starts to sting, pleasure tinged with pain around the edges, and your clenching and writhing has Spencer pushed over the edge as well, his head dropping between his shoulders as he comes with a groan, loud and whiny, his load spilling inside of you.
You’re both breathing hard, but your eyes meet his, and you share a small smile. Spencer has paused, cock softening inside of you, and he kisses you softly. You taste yourself on his lips. You don’t care, and kiss him back. Both of you giggle when you pull away.
One of Spencer’s hands falls from the headboard to your body, his fingers gentle as they skirt over your curves, a sharp contrast to the way he was fucking you just moments ago. His hand slides over your breast, your stomach, your thighs – thumbing over the marks he’d left behind. Spencer presses down on one on your inner thigh. You moan as he grabs the meat of your thigh eagerly. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your knee.
“I love you,” you giggle softly, feeling like you got your brains fucked out. “You’re too sweet to me.”
“Why wouldn’t I be sweet to you, darling?” Spencer answers softly as he leans in, kissing your jaw gently. Your cheeks feel warm. “I love you too. Let me clean you up.”
You hum softly, laying back while Spencer gets up. You watch as Spencer, even more gorgeous in his post-orgasmic glow, grabs a small towel and slips onto the bathroom. He emerges quickly enough, the towel now damp, and slides back into bed next to you.
Spencer glances down at where you’re wet and messy. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, mind clearly busy, and asks, “Wanna let me finger you before we really go and get clean?”
You let out a laugh, and after a moment’s pause: “Yeah, okay."
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid smut#spencerreidenjoyer writes#criminal minds fanfiction
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CHAPTER 1
series masterlist
Pairing: OT8 x reader
Word Count: 3,9k
Tags: Intro, bodyguard!ot8, idol!reader
Summary: Meeting your new bodyguards doesn't go as smoothly as everyone hoped..
‘I don’t need a group of bodyguards,’ you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time.
Your manager Yoona doesn’t even look at you anymore and you fight the urge to stamp your feet like a little child to get her attention. You won’t stoop that low though, so instead you place your hands on your hips and glare at the woman who’s been by your side since you debuted about two years ago.
‘We’re not having this discussion again, y/n,’ Yoona says, her eyes still fixed on her phone screen. ‘Your popularity is growing by the day, you’ve received multiple death threats in the last few months and in case you forgot, last week someone tried to break into your home.’
Your shoulders deflate and your hands fall down beside your body. You can’t really argue with that, but you’ve grown so accustomed to having Faris at your side as your one and only bodyguard, that the thought of eight men taking his place makes you shiver. Who the hell needed eight freaking bodyguards? You weren’t a princess for fuck’s sake.
Yoona finally looks at you then. ‘It’s very important to us to keep you safe, darling. I know it will be an adjustment, but you’ll get used to it.’
‘But eight?’ you argue, trying once more. ‘Do I really need eight men following my every move?’
‘That’s why we’re placing some of them around you with other jobs as well, kind of like undercover bodyguards,’ Yoona smiles at you like that makes it any better.
You slump down in the chair across from Yoona and frown at her. What could bodyguards possibly go undercover as in your team? Woman, sure, no problem, but a muscled man? They’d stand out immediately.
‘What do you mean?’ you ask carefully, not sure if you even want to know.
‘They all have multiple skill sets, but we decided on adding three of them as your dancers and one will probably step in as a personal assistant of sorts,’ Yoona explains, her eyes once more on her phone screen.
‘Why?’ you blurt out. ‘I don’t even need new dancers? We’re not firing anyone are we?’
You were perfectly happy with your team as it was and it would kill you to let any of them go because Yoona decided you needed eight freaking men to watch you.
Yoona sighed and put down her phone. ‘We’re not firing anyone, but Dohyun is still recovering from his injury and Ju-won has asked for a few months off to visit his family. As for why, it will allow them to be around you more casually.’
Damnit. That actually made sense.
‘And you’re sure they can dance?’ you ask, already knowing the answer. Yoona would never suggest something like this if they couldn’t.
‘Yes, y/n, they can dance. I think you’ll be impressed actually.’
That makes you curious. Yoona isn’t easily impressed, so if she thinks you’ll approve, they must be good. Maybe you should give them a chance, or just be such a brat they run away screaming.
‘Fine,’ you sigh. ‘When will I meet them?’
Yoona looks at her watch and your eyes widen at the movement. She wouldn’t do this to you, would she?
‘They’ll be here in an hour to meet you,’ Yoona says and you let out a relieved breath. ‘You better be back here by then or I will let one of them drag you here by your ear.’
‘Bossy much,’ you whisper, but you don’t really mean it. You luckily have a very good relationship with your manager and even though she drives you up a wall sometimes, you know she has your best interest at heart.
Yoona rolls her eyes at you and waves her hand at the door. ‘Go be bratty somewhere else, I’ll see you in an hour.’
You bark out a laugh and jump up from the chair. ‘As you wish, my Queen,’ you say, doing a little courtesy.
Your current bodyguard Faris is waiting for you in the hallway, a smile on his handsome face as he spots you.
‘Good talk?’ he asks, following one step behind you.
‘You knew about this, didn’t you?’ you ask, glaring at him over your shoulder.
‘I’m the one who recommended them actually,’ Faris says and only his quick reflexes stop him from walking straight into your back as you stop walking immediately at his words.
‘What?’ you turn around to frown at him. ‘Why would you do that to me?’
Faris raises his eyebrows and stares down at you with a knowing look, his arms crossing over his chest.
‘Fine,’ you roll your eyes at him. ‘I know why, Yoona was so kind to remind me, but I still don’t get why it has to be eight.’
‘It might seem excessive to you Nabi,’ Faris says, addressing you with your stage name which he knows usually softens you. ‘But you don’t see all that we see and trust me when I say that once you’re on tour, you’ll be happy to have them by your side. It gets crazy out there.’
‘I know that, but undercover bodyguards?’ you make a face. ‘I’m not royalty.’
Faris chuckles and with a gentle push on your shoulder, he guides you further through the hallway and towards the studio you were working at before Yoona called you to her office. It was one of the things you really liked about your agency. Nearly everything you needed was in the same building.
‘You may as well be and I trust Chan and his guys to keep you safe,’ Faris says as he holds a door open for you.
‘So you really know them?’ you ask, sitting down at the desk you were working at before. Your laptop is still open on the editing program you work with and there are multiple notebooks, paper coffee cups and empty candy wrappers spread all around it. ‘Did you work with them before?’
‘I trained 3RACHA actually,’ Faris nods. ‘Chan and I had multiple gigs together after that and I’ve only heard good things about the others as well. I’m confident I’m leaving you in good hands.’
‘You shouldn’t be leaving me at all,’ you groan, throwing your head back against your chair. ‘But I understand and I hope that when I have a husband one day, he'll do the same for me.’
Faris just smiles at that and gets comfortable on the couch facing the door. He knows better than to get into this conversation with you again. Last time you ended up facetiming his wife in tears and he ended up having to calm down two crying women.
‘Wait, did you just say sriracha?’ you sit up in your chair when your brain suddenly realizes what he had just said. ‘As in the hot sauce?’
‘No, I said 3RACHA, that’s what they called themselves back then,’ Faris replies, glancing at you. ‘I think they made music together in their free time, before they started their own company.’
Huh. Interesting. Why on earth would they go from making music together to becoming bodyguards?
‘So all eight of them made music together?’ you ask curiously.
‘No, just Chan, Jisung and Changbin. I think they mostly rapped, but if you’re interested in knowing more, you can always ask. It could break the ice when you meet them,’ Faris suggests, winking at you.
‘I’ll pass, I don’t want them to think I’m happy about this arrangement,’ you murmur, turning your chair so your back is to Faris. ‘Will you tell me when it’s time to go?’
‘Don’t I always?’ he chuckles.
You flip him off without looking and put on your headphones. Time to edit some more music.
****
You’re so engrossed in your music, that it takes Faris multiple tries to get you to put down your headphones. He even goes as far as opening the blinds to let the light in, making you whimper and flinch by the intrusion of it.
‘Alright, alright,’ you yell, your eyes scrunched close. ‘I beg for mercy, I’ll come with you.’
Faris laughs and closes the blinds, once again developing the room in darkness, just how you like it. He has scolded you many times before about how bad it is for your eyes to squint at your screen in a dark room, but you rarely listen to him about it.
‘If you think about telling my new watch dogs this trick of yours, I’ll haunt you,’ you warn Faris when the two of you walk towards Yoona’s office.
Faris makes a movement with his hands as if he’s zipping his lips closed and you nod happily at him, trusting him to keep his word.
‘How late are we?’ you ask, having forgotten your phone in the studio when Faris basically dragged you out by your arm.
‘About five minutes too early,’ he smiles proudly.
Of fucking course. He’s been working with you for two years so he knows all your annoying traits by now, including having a habit of being late because you simply forget the time when you’re working.
‘What will I do without you,’ you pout at him, ignoring the nervous butterflies in your stomach as you near Yoona’s office.
‘You’ll be just fine, Nabi,’ Faris says and you’re not sure if he means it as a reply to what you just said or as a reassurance before meeting your new team of bodyguards.
Taking a deep breath, you turn towards Faris. ‘How do I look?’
‘I thought you didn’t care?’ he grins, but he reaches out to flatten a few wild strands of your hair.
You blow him a kiss, put on a straight face and turn around to knock on the door before pushing it open. The first thing you’re greeted with is the silhouette of 4 men standing with their back to you. Each of them have broad muscular shoulders that are clearly visible under the black suit jacket they’re wearing, the fabric straining like they’re wearing a size too small.
The man on the right turns around when you enter and you nearly gasp at his beauty. His hair is styled to show a little v of his forehead and the black strands nearly reach his eyes. Jesus. He could be a model if he wanted too. He raises his eyebrows at you when you just stare at him for a moment, before he nudges the man next to him.
‘Are you fucking kidding me,’ you mutter under your breathe when the other man turns around and piercing eyes meet yours.
Of course he’s beautiful as well. What the hell was Yoona thinking?
‘Ah, Y/N, there you are,’ Yoona says when she notices you. ‘On time, even.’
You roll your eyes and stroll forward to her desk, ignoring the four men as you make your way around them. In that little moment you forget there’s supposed to be more of them and when you turn to stand next to Yoona and see the chairs in front of her desk filled with four more gorgeous men, you nearly stumble.
Yoona grins at you and you narrow your eyes at the woman.
‘You think this is funny, don’t you?’ you grumble at her. ‘Where did you even find them? heaven?’
One of the men snorts before trying to cover it up with a cough.
‘Don’t mind her gentleman, she’s in a mood today,’ Yoona smiles.
‘I wonder why,’ you mutter, sending a fake smile in the direction of the bodyguards.
‘That’s alright, it must be a lot to take in,’ one of them says with such a deep voice that your eyes widen.
It must look comical, cause the same man that snorted earlier, lets out a giggle. ‘Don’t worry, Miss, it’s how everyone reacts to first hearing Felix’s voice,’
You want to focus on him calling you Miss, but the urge to see which face belongs to the deep voice is stronger.
‘Who’s Felix?’ you ask, your eyes searching the men in front of you.
‘I am,’ the only blonde man of the group says, lifting his hand to show you where he is. He’s absolutely stunning with freckles sprinkled over his nose and cheeks.
‘Holy shit, is that your real voice?’ you ask without thinking, slapping your hand in front of your mouth as soon as the words come out.
He laughs and a few of the other men chuckle as well.
‘It is, sometimes it gets even deeper,’ he says.
‘Yeah, Lix actually has like three different voices,’ the man who called you Miss grins.
It’s getting annoying not to know his name, but you don’t want to ask and seem interested. Luckily one of the men at the back seems to read your mind somehow.
‘Why don’t we all introduce ourselves, my name is Bang Chan, but you can call me Chan. I’m the leader and head of your security team as of now. So if you experience any problems with our service in any way, I’m the one you can come to.’
‘Noted,’ you mumble, ignoring Yoona’s glare at your rudeness.
So that’s Chan. Faris forgot to mention how beautiful his trainee was and you were so going to punch his arm for that later.
‘I’m Lee Minho,’ the one with the piercing stare says. ‘I’ll be joining your dance team.’
Fuck. Of course he is.
‘So will I,’ Felix smiles. ‘Lee Felix.’
‘And me, Hwang Hyunjin,’ the man closest to you winks.
Great. They were absolutely going to kill you. In more ways than one.
Biting your lip you wait for the last four to introduce themselves and pray to all the gods that Miss guy is going to be your assistant. He already feels like the most easy going out of all eight and if you need to work with one of them closely, you’d rather it be him than anyone else.
‘Kim Seungmin, I’ll be one of your bodyguards’ the one who noticed you first says, his eyes flicking up and down your body as if he’s calculating how much of a flight risk you are.
Oh just you wait and see buddy.
‘I’m Yang Jeongin, but you can call me Innie or Ayen,’ the very cute man in front of Seungmin smiles and you nearly smile back at him.
Finally the man you’ve been waiting for speaks up. ‘I’m Han Jisung, your new assistant.’
You cheer in your head, keeping a straight face as you look at the last man. He’s definitely the most buff of them all, his biceps really testing the fabric of his suit jacket.
‘And I’m Seo Changbin, also part of your daily bodyguard squad.’
‘You’re all way too beautiful to be bodyguards,’ you say, crossing your arms with a frown while tapping your foot on the ground.
Yoona makes a noise beside you and you don’t dare to look at her. She’ll definitely lecture you later, but this is all on her anyways.
‘Worried your fans will fawn over us?’ Jisung jokes, winking at you.
Your lips tip up in a tiny smile, but you quickly straighten your face. It was going to be hard to be a brat to them, but you were nothing if you weren’t stubborn. You’re not going to just warm up to them because they were hot and funny. Nope. Not going to happen.
‘More like you’d be too busy worrying about your good looks to protect me,’ you say, raising your eyebrows at them.
‘Aren’t you a ray of sunshine,’ Minho grumbles, placing his hand on Jisung’s shoulder as if to comfort him. ‘You won’t have to worry about that, looking this good doesn’t cost us much.’
You open your mouth to reply, but Yoona gets up and goes to stand next to you.
‘That’s enough Y/N,’ she hisses before smiling her million dollar smile to the men. ‘As you can see Y/N hasn’t really warmed up to the idea of having this many eyes on her all the time.’
‘Don’t you have that all the time though,’ Seungmin says directly to you.
You glare at him. ‘That’s not the same.
He just shrugs. ‘We don’t want anything from you like your fans or stalkers. We’re not here to be your friends, we’re just here to keep you safe. That’s all that should matter.’
His words hit you harder than they should and you can’t help but flinch. The idol life isn't great for maintaining friendships and since you weren’t in a group, the only people you really had around you to talk to were your bodyguard Faris, Yoona and your dancers. You didn’t have a best friend, or even really friends in general, not since high school ended.
‘Min!’ Chan calls out, glaring at the man.
You square your shoulders and tilt your head, putting another fake smile on your face. ‘It’s fine, he’s right isn’t he.’
‘No, he’s not,’ Chan shakes his head. ‘Listen-’
‘It’s fine,’ you repeat, interrupting him. ‘How about I’ll show Jisung his office and we can go over the schedule for next week?’
Chan frowns down at you, sharing a look with Jisung and Yoona, but then he nods. You give him a nod back in thanks and without looking at any of the other guys you make a beeline for the door, hoping Jisung will follow you.
‘Well, that went great,’ you hear someone say before you step outside.
Faris frowns when he sees the look on your face, but he doesn’t say anything and falls into step behind you like he always does. It’s one of the things you love about him, he always knows when to not ask questions. You can hear him and Jisung quietly talking behind you, but you don’t mind, they know each other after all.
‘Well, here we are,’ you say, opening the door of the small office area next to the studio you usually work at. ‘You can arrange everything how you like and if you need anything you can ask Yoona.’
‘I wasn’t expecting an office,’ Jisung smiles at you, stepping inside the room to take a look.
It’s not much. Just a desk with a comfortable chair and a computer, a two person couch and in the corner there’s a bookcase that so far only houses a cactus, your first three albums and a box with documents your last assistant left behind.
‘Of course you get an office, can’t have you shacking up with me in the studio,’ you say, trying to joke with him.
‘Hey, about what Seungmin said,’ Jisung starts, sitting down in his desk chair and twirling around. ‘He’s just very serious about his job, he didn’t really mean the part about us not being your friends.’
‘It’s fine,’ you shrug. ‘You’re not really meant to be my friends anyways, you’re hired to protect me.’
‘Yeah, you don’t look too happy about that. Why is that?’ Jisung asks and he sounds genuinely curious. ‘I mean, sure we’re a whole lot, but isn’t it nice to know you’ll be safe?’
‘Safe? Yes. Watched by eight, I repeat, eight men? No thank you, I don’t need that.’
Jisung tilts his head and purses his lips in thought, like he’s actually trying to see this from your side. ‘I get it, I do, I’ve lived with most of them for the last few years and like I said, we can be a lot.’
‘But?’ you ask, falling down on the couch in front of Jisung’s new desk. ‘I feel there’s a but there.’
‘You really have no idea, do you?’ Jisung leans his chin on his palm as he looks at you. ‘We’ve seen the threats Y/N, we’ve seen the video’s of handsy fans, we’ve seen the footage of that dude trying to break into your house. It’s a miracle really that nothing has happened to you so far with only Faris by your side.’
‘He’s right, Nabi,’ Faris says from his spot by the door.
‘Okay, maybe more than one bodyguard would be better,’ you say slowly. ‘But eight? I still think it’s a bit much, especially the undercover bit.’
Jisung shrugs and leans back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. ‘Maybe so, but at least you’ll know you will be safe.’
‘I guess,’ you mumble.
‘Wanna go over the schedule for next week with me?’ Jisung asks. ‘Get your mind off all this for a bit?’
You jump up from the couch immediately and walk around the desk to stand next to him while he starts up the computer.
****
About half an hour later you’re fairly confident Jisung will make a good assistant. He’s written down your interviews and gigs for the coming month and made a list of all the things he wanted to take care of before that. It was cute how he wanted to do it right.
‘Knock, knock,’ a voice called out from the door and when you looked up you saw Chan and Changbin hugging Faris.
‘How’s it going here?’ Chan smiles at you as he walks inside, his hands in his pocket. He probably tried to come off less intimidating like that, but it didn’t really work.
‘Fine,’ you say, looking at the computer screen again.
If you kept your eyes on him you’d probably drool all over your favorite studio outfit. That man was way too fine.
‘It’s going great, Channie,’ Jisung says. ‘We’ve been getting along perfectly without the ice kings here.’
‘Don’t let them hear you call them that,’ Chan chuckles, moving to sit on the couch. ‘I hope we’ll be able to make this work, Y/N. I take great pride in my work and I’ll do anything I can to make you feel comfortable around us.’
Ugh. Why did he have to be so kind too?
‘Thank you,’ you mutter, your eyes still on the screen.
‘We’ll promise not to impose your privacy too much when we move in, but–’
Your head snaps up to look at him then and from the corner of your eyes you notice Jisung covering his face with his hands.
‘What did you just say?’ you ask, standing up. ‘Please tell me I didn’t just hear you say the words moving in?’
‘Uhm,’ Chan tilts his head in confusion. ‘I thought you knew?’
‘Knew. What?’ you growl, your fingers balling up in fists.
‘Oh boy,’ Jisung whispers and you turn to glare at him.
‘You knew about this?’
‘Uhm, we all did? And we figured so would you,’ he shrugs, looking at you with big innocent eyes.
You close your eyes, not at all immune to those brown doe eyes. If you keep looking at him you will stop being angry and you can’t do that. Not now.
‘If somebody doesn’t tell me very soon what exactly this thing I’m supposed to know is, I will scream,’ you clench your jaw and take a shaky breath.
This can’t be happening. They are not moving into your house with you. Yoona won’t do that to you, not after your talk this morning. Right? You close your eyes in frustration, already knowing the answer to your own question. She will.
‘Such a drama queen,’ a new voice speaks up from the door and when you turn your head, already seeing red, you see Minho smirking at you.
Changbin and Faris look concerned and when you look back at Chan, he actually looks like he’s pitying you. Fuck.
‘Just say it already.’
‘Well, we’re supposed to move into your new house with you,’ Chan says, confirming it.
Oh hell no.
a/n: eeeeeeekkk I'm so excited for this series you have no idea!! I wasn't going to upload till tomorrow, but @staylovesmiley made me flip a coin and here I am at midnight, feeding you the first chapter.
Please let me know your thoughts <3
taglist: @jaeminie-cricket @jeonginsbaee @staylovesmiley @newbbystay @cashtonsbetch @mariahxrrera @kaleigh-2002 @silencionyx @smileykiddie08 @my-neurodivergent-world @yaorzu-blog @yoongiismylove2018 @staytinyluv @bookswillfindyouaway @queen-thiccness @notastraykid @ateez-atiny380 @estella-novella @furfoxsake22 @hyunjinhoexxx @insomnjen @hannahisnotblue @vivilovesuu @velvetmoonlght @skz8love @eastjonowhere @stellmeiv @bookishcaptain @flylis @deadpool15 @0325ale @thatgirlangelb @iknow-uknow-leeknow @nchhuhi @shycreationdreamland @readr1221 @beewilko
#stray kids fanfic#ot8 x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids scenarios#stray kids imagines#ot8 bodyguard au#stray kids fluff#bang chan x reader#lee know x reader#han jisung x reader#lee felix x reader#hyunjin x reader#jeongin x reader#changbin x reader#seungmin x reader#idol!reader#chancloud8 writes
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☆༉ — KATSUKI BAKUGOU. compression shirts & sweatpants.
about. hello u guys wanted me to finish this so i did lol !!!! i just can’t get the idea of him in compression shirts out of my mind ok enjoy !! <3
warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact. suggestive, making out, hickies, dry humping, bakugou being a huge tease, gn!reader, pro hero!bakugou.
“do you get off on this? dressing like a slut?”
after pushing his bread down into the toaster, bakugou stops mid-sip, his signature red riot coffee mug about a quarter of an inch away from the pink and plush curve of his lips. he looks over to you as if he’s an animal that’s been caught doing something it’s not supposed to. a deer in headlights if you will.
“hah?”
you clench your fists, the foulest pout you can muster spread thinly over your features like a veil, as a petulant huff escapes you. you pretend to be mad at the man for as long as you can, turning your head away from him with your arms crossed over your chest. but you can’t help it. you can’t fight it… your gaze trailing back over to him at a snail’s pace.
katsuki bakugou looks like a fucking god.
not only does the stupid black compression shirt he’s wearing highlight the slender accent of his hips and itty bitty waist — but it clings to every muscle in bakugou’s marble-carved body. you can see every bulge of his biceps and ripple in his backs, even down to his washboard abs. honestly, you count your lucky stars every day that you managed to sink your fangs into the blonde before anyone else did, claiming him as your own. you might have even thrown up if anyone got to see him lounging about the place in grey sweats the way you did, the material just barely sitting on his hips.
you have to swipe at your mouth to stop yourself from drooling when he puts his mug down and lifts an arm up high to put the coffee granules back in the cupboard — his shirt riding up just enough for you to get a good look at a slither if his his sun-kissed, diamond cut v-line and waistband of his boxers too. it’s like the guy is purposefully trying to kill you.
just the very sight of katsuki like this, probably fresh from his work out, has you in a shambles — breaking out into hot sweats, panting like a dog. someone might even think you’re sick.
katsuki pays your little tantrum no mind, crossing his arms and leaning his hip against the kitchen counter while he waits for you to finish.
“you look so good.” you relent eventually, shoulders sagging.
shaking his head in a fond manner, the blonde rolls his ruby framed eyes. “no, you look good.” katsuki coos amusedly, arms opening wide for you as you pad further into the kitchen to snuggle against his chest. although he’s taunting you and you’re playing right into his game, you will always love that katsuki finds little ways to compliment you and make you feel adored — you feel it as he presses the wisps of a kiss into the crown of your head. “you always do.”
“it’s not fair that you get to go around like this! wearing that and making me feel all—!” you wave your hands about eccentrically, a heated frustration burning at your nerve endings as you screech your feelings out.
bakugou smiles to himself, sexy and slow, barely jumping when his toast pops out of the toaster. he grabs it, holds the corner of his food between his rows of pearly white teeth and spins your positions so that he traps you against the kitchen counter. “gonna need some context, babe.” you think that he’s going to touch you but instead reaches behind you to grab at his coffee.
freaking tease.
it’s impossible to think clearly when your boyfriend is this close — his intoxicating musky scent of sweet sweat and cool toned aftershave making you dizzy. “i hate you.” you state indignantly, flopping against his chest and letting it’s plushness muffle your speech patterns. “you’re stupid hot. and a slut.”
“you slut shamin’ me, sweetness?”
“s’what you deserve. dressin’ like you don’t belong to nobody. like you belong to the streets.”
“i belong to you, baby. you know that.” chucking his toast onto the counter, the blonde swoops down to kiss you hungrily — tasting of freshly brewed coffee grounds and salt. of course he would get off to something like this. he’s got you right where he wants you, weak in the knees and melting in his arms.
you screw your eyes shut, squirming in place as bakugou steps back and guides your hand under his tight fitting compression shirt, overloading your brain with just how built he is. fleshy pecks and golden abs. he ends up keeping it rolled up so you feel hot all over. “i can get undressed if it makes ya feel better.”
you can’t help that your eyes drop back down to his cotton grey sweats — they’ve slipped a little lower, low enough for his sharp v-line and soft blonde curls from his happy trail to peek out from the waistband. if you squinted (not that you would need to) you could make out the outline of his semi as it brushes against your inner thighs.
this is it. this is the end. “it makes me feel worse actually. like i might die of thirst or something. especially if you don’t—“
“if i don’, what?” his hands are all over you now, splayed over your tummy, digging into your waist — he overwhelms you. pressing his body against yours until you practically feel him through your pores. bakugou is hot (physically, sure) but against you, your desire for him spreads like a heatwave through every inch of your body — from the tips of your fingers and toes to the top of your head.
“kiss me.” you breathe, a neediness seeded into your tone.
bakugou arches a blonde eyebrow, looking down at you cockily. “c’mere then, brat.”
he uses a finger and thumb to tilt your chin up towards him, leaning down to kiss you before tricking you with a fake out. just as you begin to whinge and complain, the blonde squishes your cheeks so you can’t wriggle away from him and licks into your mouth with a teasing laugh. he only kisses you fully when you grasp at his slender waist, feel him up from under his clothes and slip your hands over his ass — just bellow the waistband of his sweats.
“fuckin’ tease,” katsuki grunts, tugging on your lower lip with his teeth and sucking in your tongue.
a free hand wanders from his bottom, climbs up the rippling muscles of his back and tangles in bakugou’s sandy roots — fisting then as you drag him closer, working your tongue into his hot and welcoming mouth. “takes one to know one, kats,” you mewl into him, letting him swallow your satisfied gasps and squeaks.
every action, every groan and grope becomes rougher, needier, hornier — squeezing each other turns to grinding on one another until there’s no room for either of you to breathe and just as you move to shove your hand down the front of his boxers, everything comes to a halt.
you knock bakugou’s coffee over when he lifts you onto the counter.
“ow! hot!” you squeal, still tilting your head back to make room for the blonde at your neck.
he doesn’t stop, nipping at your skin. “yeah, so you’ve said babe.”
“not you, dummy!” swatting at your boyfriend, you push him off. “the fucking coffee on my ass!”
katsuki blinks, his lashes fluttering against the column of your throat while be peeks over your shoulder at the beverage spilling across the counter and seeping into your clothes.
“that’s what you get for callin’ me a slut.”
“oh…oh fuck you.”
“‘m trying babe.”
“fuck you. slut.”
“keep degrading me sweetness, ‘m kinda into that.”
꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
#bakugou x reader#bakugou smut#bakugou fluff#bakugo x reader#bakugo smut#bakugou x you#bakugou thirst#bakugo x you#bakugo thirst#bakugo fluff#bakugou imagines#bakugo drabble#bnha smut#bnha x reader#bnha x you#bnha fluff#✧ ₊˚੭ — writing#tteokdoroki
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a/n. wrote this immediately after i killed a cockroach for my older brother of 10 years. needless to say, his screaming emboldened me to be the braver person. this led me straight to domestic moments with bkg. (0.7k)
“how the fuck did that get in here?”
he says it so incredulously that you can’t help it—you snort. bakugou’s glare instantly shifts to you—unwavering—from where it was laser-focused a second ago.
right at the massive ass cockroach on his kitchen wall.
his eyebrows furrow even further at you. “are you fucking laughing?”
“no—sorry—” you start, although you cut yourself off with another giggle. he’s trying to keep glaring at you, but a smile threatens to tug at the corners of his lips.
“sorry, what?” he goads, and you shake your head, grinning.
“it’s just…” you gesture to the two of you as if that’s enough of an explanation in itself.
you’re barefoot—standing near the microwave, above and slightly to the left of which the pest is currently located—with one of bakugou’s house slippers on hand. the other one is wielded by the owner himself, although he’s standing a few feet away from you, seemingly in shock.
“don’t—” he spits out hurriedly, “—just keep your fucking eyes trained on it, dumbass.”
“right. sorry.”
you look back at the object of bakugou’s disgust, and it’s flapping its wings now as if it’s readying itself for flight.
the pro-hero must’ve noticed, too, because you see him stiffen through your peripheral vision.
“quick,” he croaks, “kill it.”
you whip to look at him, shocked. “me? you’re closer to it, you do it.”
“just—”
whatever rebuttal bakugou was planning to spew out doesn’t get to see the light of day because just as you predicted it would, the fucking cockroach takes off and flies.
straight into bakugou.
your hulking, #4 pro-hero of a boyfriend stumbles back and screams, barely dodging the pest just as it brushes against a strand of his freshly washed ash-blonde hair. before you know it, bakugou falls on his ass, and the cockroach lands on top of his pristine kitchen counter.
your body acts before your brain can catch up.
you dive, and you slam his perfectly good footwear onto the bug. you smack it again for good measure, before flipping the slipper upside down only to see the gross remains of the vile critter that almost sent the man into a cardiac arrest.
speaking of.
you hold up the object for bakugou—who’s still sitting flat on his butt, wide eyes trained on you—as evidence. you shoot him a placating look, “see? good as dead.”
bakugou studies it for a moment—as if he’s waiting for it to resurrect and jump on him—before he finally decides that it’s a goner. he sighs, bringing himself back on his bare feet.
“thanks,” he mutters, “…babe.”
“no problem,” you offer, “though, i don’t see what the big deal was, kats.”
at that, the bashful look of gratitude that was just etched on his face is immediately replaced by flat-out embarrassment.
“did you see how fucking big that thing was?”
“yeah…?”
“there was no way that was festering inside my home.”
you tamp on the grin that’s fighting to take over your mouth. “that why you basically collapsed in fear?”
“i didn't—” he splutters, before thinking it’s apparently better to change the topic altogether. “why did you have to use my slipper, huh?”
“i left mine in the living room,” you pout. “you shouted my name and i ran here before i could put them on.”
bakugou stares at you for a beat, like he’s trying to come up with a smartass retort, before shaking his head in what you think is resignation.
“yeah, well, thanks again.”
you watch the pro-hero as he takes the decorated slipper from you with obvious repulsion, heading back towards the living room.
“where are you going?” you call out.
he stops, turning to look at you. “the rooftop. i’ll blast this shit to hell.”
bakugou, in fact, does send his poor slippers to hell that night.
but not before calling the exterminator.
because that shit needed to be taken care of—if he wanted you to accept when he finally invites you to move in with him.
˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!
tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra
#i'm always motivated to kill cockroaches tho#mainly because i can't bear the thought of them roaming around freely to terrorize me and make my home filthy#bakugou x reader#bakugou x y/n#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou imagines#mha imagines#bnha imagines#mha scenarios#bnha scenarios#bnha x reader#mha x reader#bakugou x you#bakugou imagine#bakugou drabble#bakugou fluff#bakugo x reader#bakugo x y/n
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PLEASE WRITE LIKE A LITTLE BLURB OR SOMETHING ABOUT MATT GRABBING READER'S FACE LIKE HOW HE DID WITH CHRIS
thank you😭
TEMPTATION (part two)
𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐅!𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dilf!matt x babysitter!reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you fight to not fall for matt’s charm for the second time the same day, but the tension is too strong that you can’t resist.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, oral (female receiving), fingering, praising/degradation, p in v (pull out method), stomach bulge
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,563
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i want to get through my requests and sprinkle them into fics so if you see something that seems like it was requested a while ago that’s why LOL
(dilf!matt au originally by @luvs4matt)
clinking of dishes and water running is a good distraction. the sudsy soap coating your hand on the sponge as you wash a plate feels warm on your skin. you’re focusing as hard as you can on your senses, matt standing just a few feet away while you’re helping him clean up after dinner.
he brought evelyn to bed a few minutes ago, and now you can feel him staring into your back. your heart pounds in your chest, thinking about what occurred only this afternoon in this same kitchen. nobody made a peep about it after it happened, but that’s all you’ve been thinking about all day—his cock moving past your lips so naturally, his grunts and groans intensifying the closer he got, his praises, the way he made you look up at him with the soft grip of his hands on your cheeks…
you bite your lip and clench your thighs at the thought, but you shake it out of your head the second it arrives.
you can’t do that again. that was a mistake.
when you dry the last dish and place it into the cabinet above, you jump when you notice matt standing directly in front of you when you turn around. “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” he chuckles. “i want to thank you for your help today. you know, with ev and all.”
“you’re welcome.” you say quickly, taking a long exhale. “it’s my job.”
his arms cage you in against the counter, each one planted on the edge of it by your sides. he groans, leaning into where his lips ghost yours, and your chest heaves even faster. he takes his knee and parts your legs with it, pressing firm against your covered mound. he starts kissing down your neck, biting at the skin in the process. not to leave marks, but to show you how desperate he is for you as much as you are for him. “tell me to stop.” he mumbles against your jaw, bringing his face up to meet yours again.
your eyes dart over his features, shaking from how turned on you get from such little contact. “i can’t.” you whisper, heart beating rapidly.
“say it.” he murmurs, teeth nipping at your bottom lip, making you gasp slightly. “say that you want me to stop.”
“no,” you say shakily. he’s so fucking mesmerizing that it annoys you, but you’re aching for his touch, his body, him. it’s only been a month of nannying for him, but goddamn do you need it bad.
matt pulls back, frustratingly running a hand through his hair. you let out a sigh, finally being able to breathe when you think he’s going to walk away, but no. he grabs your hips and lifts you roughly onto the counter, caging you in once again by pulling you towards him with a hand possessively wrapped around your waist. “you’re fucking killing me.” he pants, moving to raise your arms above your head to remove your shirt and unclip your bra. he smirks when you help him get off your leggings, throwing them aside. you wince when the elastic of your panties snaps against your flesh when he rips them off.
“fuck.” he breathes, scanning your body over and over again. “fuck.”
your nipples are hard peaks, breasts moving with each breath you take. there’s a sticky mess on your thighs, your dripping hole aching for his cock. he hurries to get his shirt and pants off, eyes still locked on your flushed body.
“look at her,” he says, thumbs spreading your soaking folds. his eyes look frantic and hungry, pupils dilated almost fully as he admires your pussy. he runs a finger up the slit, and you shiver. “she’s practically begging for me.”
the ticking of the wall clock seems to become louder when you watch him kneel, hot breath against your sensitive heat. he flicks his tongue once… twice… three times over your clit, and you jolt with each lick. he runs a hand over your thigh, squeezing the inside before he starts to suck at your bud, also soaking one of his fingers with your juices before inserting it. a hitched gasp is caught in your lungs, matt putting in his middle finger next.
his eyes roll back, tasting you and fucking you with his fingers at the same time. you whine, gripping tight onto his hair for stability. he groans, adding a third, scissoring the digits nuzzled into your cunt. arching your back, you moan from how full you feel already. you’ve never been fingered with more than two, but this—
you snap out of it when he goes in with four, and you’re so wet that they move in and out quite easily. he hums approvingly, the vibration letting another moan slip out of you. the erotic sounds of his tongue and squelching from his fingers make your toes curl. you can feel him stretch you out at the way he moves his digits, and you clench around them.
keeping your grasp on his head, your low moans turn into whines. he’s eating you out like a starved man as if you’re his last meal. it seems that from now on whenever matt is hungry, he’ll just go for your pussy. your eyes flutter, mouth agape when your hands reach to your tits and clutch hard, twirling your nipples.
he pulls his mouth away from your swollen clit, licking his lips to get an extra taste. his knuckles plunge harder, curling his fingers to hit that spot right where you want it. you start to twitch and quiver, the knot in your stomach snapping the second it appears. he slides out the digits from your still-tight hole.
you’re left a trembling mess, settling down from your orgasm when he stands back up. he wants to kiss you so you can taste yourself, but he can’t. sex is one thing, but kissing you is another. it’s more dangerous because if he does, he won’t ever turn back from wanting you.
instead, he forces his fingers into your mouth, and you lick them clean with a satisfied hum. “good girl…”
then, his palms hold the creases of your knees, lifting and spreading your legs open. his dick throbs, wrapping his hand around the base and pumping himself a couple of times to get him harder than he already is. looking at your naked body while he does so makes him grunt, hair sticking to his forehead from sweat. he nudges the head between your folds, coating it before slowly pushing into you.
“come on.” he grunts in concentration, watching your face contort in pleasure when he pushes in inch by delicious inch. “good girl, stretching out for me.”
you let out a small yelp when he’s balls deep, slamming your eyes shut from the pleasurable pain by accommodating his size. “shh, shh.” he soothes you, pecking your shoulder. he starts thrusting slowly, but gradually gets faster when he feels you split open for him. “there you go.” he sighs contently, spreading your legs even wider to get deeper. “what an obedient slut, taking my cock.”
your hold onto the counter for dear life, moans getting more high-pitched until you slap your hand over your mouth. evelyn is sleeping just upstairs, and you have to remind yourself of that. your vision is blurry from the tears forming in your lids, eyes rolling back so far that only the whites show.
strings of cum connect to his thighs and your cunt, the sight having matt drilling into you faster to the point where his tip reaches your cervix. you feel the bulge in your belly when he bottoms out, and that alone has you clamp down on his dick harder like a vice. he curses under his breath when he sees himself peeking out of your abdomen. “such an innocent whore.” he coos, and you moan from the degrade, it being muffled by your palm. “you like this dick?”
removing your hand, you babble some ‘fucks’ and ‘oh gods’ when you clench repeatedly. you start to spasm again, the same hot feeling building up like it did before. you’re not a screamer by any means, but your pants and whimpers alone have matt’s thrusts get sloppier. he notices your expressions and smirks.
“look at me.” he snarls, hips snapping against your ass and grabbing your face with so much force that your cheeks squish. your eyes flutter to look at him, half-crossed. he smiles menacingly at your dumbed out face before speaking. “i want you to look at me when you cum. i want you to look at who’s fucking you this good.”
moaning in response, some spit coats the corners of your mouth. he can tell you’re close by your incoherent voice and squirming, but he’s also not far behind either. you throw your head back, biting your lip to lessen your filthy sounds when you gush around his cock, milking him for all he’s worth. he pulls out with a wet pop and groans, balls tightening as he spurts hot cum all over your stomach.
it takes a load of silence to get your breathing back to normal and your brain less hazy, tilting your head when you realize something peculiar painted with his semen: the letter ‘M.’
he must be so damn proud of himself.
𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!
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Dead on Main short part 3
Debating if this can actually still be called a short....
Masterpost to find earlier parts, or my other work.
Danny shudders underneath him and grips the front of Jason’s jacket with both hands. They are both about to make the kiss deeper, when Jason hears the sound of Bats surrounding them.
Jason can recognize that they make for a weird picture. Jason, kissing some man no one else in the family knows, with the Joker’s dead body five feet away. But he just wants to groan at the interruption. He needs to take Danny back to a safe house so he can learn everything about him as soon as possible.
Maybe figure out how exactly he killed the Joker while he’s at it. Not that the means change anything about the end point, but Jason is curious. Because as much as Jason wanted to kill the Joker, planned to kill the Joker, would have if it had come down to it, if this night had ended a little differently.
The Joker did always seem a little unkillable though. He had a way of coming back. Like a cockroach. Jason may have to make sure that they burn the body.
Jason pulls away from Danny before he could continue the kiss, causing a truly adorable pout. Jason chuckles lightly, stepping back and letting his arms fall to his sides. Batman jumps down from the fire escape he was lurking on. He lands directly behind Jason, with a growl of “Hood”, that Jason knew was both a question and a command. Jason ignored it and watched as Robin jumped down as well.
Robin crouched next to the Joker and did his own assessment of the body.
“Dead.” The announcement is not a surprise to anyone present. It still brings Jason joy to hear.
“Hood.” An even lower growl than before. Getting more gravelly, Jason is starting to push Bruce’s tolerance for his bullshit.
It’s not funny. It shouldn’t be funny. But Jason throws his head back and laughs. He laughs for a god ten seconds before he calms and glances behind him at Danny, smiling so wide his cheeks are starting to hurt. Danny gives a small, nervous chuckle when Jason turns to him, but he keeps glancing between him and Bruce. Clearly nervous about Batman’s reaction to the manslaughter.
Jason turns back to Bruce, and his voice comes out so chipper when he talks it elicits another chuckle from Danny.
“I think we should burn him!”
“Hood!” And this one is as exasperated as Batman will allow himself to get in costume.
Jason saunters over the Robin, whispering at him conspiratorially “We should maybe do this full-vampire style. Chop him up into pieces and then burn him.”
“I can’t help but agree.” Robin mutters, kicking Joker lightly in the arm. Jason liked this kid before, but his affection was growing. Jason put his arm around Robin in a quick side hug.
Robin was not expecting it, which gave Jason a full second before he had to dart away from a knife, laughing.
“Explain. Now.” Batman’s main focus is on Robin and Hood, but he is also crowding Danny, who looks like he is trying to sink into the wall.
“Hey, leave him alone.” Jason walks back over, quickly, hoping Robin will start with the body while he distracts Bruce. He has faith the kid is good for it.
“What is he doing here and what were you doing with him?”
“Batman, this is Danny.” Danny gives a short wave. “Danny here was startled by the Joker, who confronted him while he was very innocently minding his business. Danny then defended himself against him, and now the Joker is dead.”
Batman gave him a blank stare. “Danny killed the Joker.” It’s flat, but conveys his disbelief perfectly.
“Do you see any bullet holes?”
“Hn.” Batman grunted, turning to look back at the body. Which Robin might have actually been about to get started on. Jason spares a thought for what they would have donw about all the blood
“Robin!” The shout is sharp, and Robin lowers his knife, despondently putting it back in its sheath. “Robin, bag him and get him ready for transport.”
Robin sighs, but starts doing as he was asked.
Batman turns back to Jason and Danny. “ What were you two doing when we arrived?”
Jason rolls his eyes. “Look old man, I know kissing is not unfamiliar to you.” Batman grunts again. “But Danny, my new favorite person,” Jason takes Danny’s hand as Danny smiles at him. “Is my soulmate. Recently discovered, obviously. Just after he did what all of you refused to do for me, and by accident.”
There was a moment of quiet.
“I really didn’t mean to, Batman, I swear.” Danny is still holding Hood’s hand, squeezing it intermittently. Jason squeezes back every time. “Wait, what do you mean they refused to do for you?” Danny peers at the stoic faces of Batman and Robin, before nodding to himself. “Not the time.”
“Hood, cave for debrief.”
Batman immediately started to turn around, but Jason scoffed. Jason could not believe the nerve actually, gaping a little at Bruce as he turned back around, before turning to look at Danny and then back at Bruce.
“ Hood, I understand the situation, but this is something that must be discussed.”
“B, you can’t be serious! He-”
“Hey, it’s okay.” Jason and Bruce both shift their gazes over to Danny. “I understand that meeting your soulmate in costume is probably not ideal. You don’t know me, and I’m not going to pretend you trust me yet.” Danny’s entire focus was on Hood.
“Go, talk things out with your group. My name is Danny Fenton. I’m sure you can find whatever you need on me with that. Find me later, okay?” Jason looked upset and it hurt Danny to already to see it.
“I’m okay with getting to know you in a mask if need be. Find my number, text me, call me. I can and will wait until you trust me.”
#fanfiction#my writing#batman#danny phantom#dpxdc#dcxdp#red hood#jason todd#soulmate au#soulmate words#dead on main
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kindness you can’t afford
jason todd x fem!reader
word count: 2.1k
warnings: injured character, multiple descriptions of blood + wounds
a/n: so this is the very first jason fic I’ve written since I was twelve, so forgive me while I find my jay’s voice now that I’m not a preteen. anyways I humbly offer thee my wares.
divider credit: cafekitsune
Gotham’s a shithole. You hadn’t known that when you first moved here. To be honest, you’d kind of thrown a dart at a map and gone where it landed. Alright, maybe it wasn’t literally a dart throw, more so finding the cheapest metropolitan city because New York was tempting but it would bankrupt you. Mostly you just wanted a place to not exist. And so Gotham’s relatively low rent rates and towering skylines were the pick with little to no research.
Gotham’s a shithole. You know that beyond a shadow of a doubt now. It’s surprising, honestly, how little of Gotham’s chaos makes it outside the city limits. One would think a psychotic killer clown that’s prone to gassing a whole city district or a half-plant poison lady or a guy going around dressed like a bat would make national news. And yet, no. You’d known superheroes existed, of course. Superman was the shining jewel in the crown of the country that is Metropolis. Everyone knows about the extraordinary Wonder Woman. It’s not like hyper skilled people working for the greater good aren’t a thing. But Gotham plays her cards close to her chest.
You've lived here almost two years now and you’ve managed to make it through relatively unscathed. An impressive feat especially since you live in the Bowery. The Bowery itself isn’t so bad, but its neighboring district Park Row, more often known as Crime Alley, is about the worst Gotham has to offer. You’ve heard your fair share of gunshots and sirens, and you’ll never forget the time that Scarecrow released fear toxin in the district and you had to shove every towel and blanket you owned against the cracks by the doors and windows to keep it out. However, you’ve avoided being mugged or assaulted or anything like that so far. And you’ve never encountered the vigilantes that run the night here.
But there’s always time for new and exciting experiences.
The loud thunk that sounds outside your living room window makes you jump and starts your heart pounding. You know you should just ignore it. Crawl off the couch and to the bedroom, lock the door. The lights in the apartment are already off, only the television light illuminating the room, so it would be easy to creep unseen. But you can’t. Something pulls you to the window. Maybe it’s the cat killing curiosity, or maybe it’s your own little voice of self destruction, or maybe it’s something else entirely. All you know is that you have to go look.
So you do. And there, out cold on the fire escape, is a man. A very large man. A very large man in a red helmet. A very large man in a red helmet with dual pistols holstered to his thighs. Red Hood. Red Hood is passed out face up on your fire escape. Huh.
You’d heard of him. It was hard not to. The Bat had the most notoriety by far, but it was Red Hood that truly scared the criminals of Gotham. Batman might break your bones, cripple you even, but you’d leave with your life. No such guarantee existed if you crossed Red Hood. Hurt a few innocent people and you might end up with a bullet or three in your skull. Then there was that thing about heads in a duffel bag and Red Hood running crime for a solid year in Gotham, but he’s better now, apparently. None of this is deterring you from unlocking the window, pushing it up, and stepping out into the cold winter air. Not when you see the blood seeping through his body armor start to drip off the fire escape grate.
He needs help and he can’t stay unconscious in the middle of the city. If whoever injured him didn’t find him, the cops would. He’s just as wanted as the actual rogues of Gotham. You think it’s bullshit, which is why you’re trying to find a way to get him inside the safety of your apartment. He’s huge up close. This is going to be very, very difficult. Your mind flashes suddenly to one of your favorite childhood movies and how the princess pulled the dashing rogue around with her hair. You glance down at the street before heading to your bedroom.
You come back out with sheets bundled up in your arms. You’re not even sure if this harebrained idea will work, but you weave the sheets through the gaps in the grates and around Red Hood’s waist nonetheless. You secure a knot and go back into your apartment with the length of the sheets. Your legs are stronger than your arms, so you brace them against the wall and pull. You can feel his body slowly dragging towards you and you pause to check your progress. He’s slumped against the window now. Good. You loop your arms under his, place your feet back against the wall, and pull hard. Your hard work is rewarded with his body breaching the threshold of your window and landing directly on top of you. The air is knocked clean out of your lungs. He is heavy.
It’s a struggle but you manage to roll out from under him and immediately see the massive red stain contrasting against the white of your fluffy pajama pants. A small puddle of blood is emerging on your floor under his left thigh, and droplets of blood have splattered next to his torso. He’s not in great shape. It suddenly hits you what you’ve done. You dragged an injured vigilante, known for shooting first and asking questions later, into your apartment with no plan on what to do after the fact.
What the fuck did I do?
That’s all you can think as you look down at him. Then something snaps into place inside your rattled mind and you run to your bathroom to grab your first aid kit. You’d bought it and learned the basics after Wayne Enterprises ran televised infomercials about the importance of first aid a couple months back. You’re carefully balancing all the supplies in your arms as you head back out to the living room.
The empty living room. No vigilante in sight. Then your world spins. Everything clatters to the floor as you’re yanked backwards by your waist, pinned to something solid and unable to move.
“Who are you?” A growl sounds behind you, modulated to sound semi-mechanical.
Ah. There he is. You think you should be panicking, absolutely losing your shit even. But your brain is moving in slow motion.
“Someone trying to help you,” you breathe out.
“Doesn’t answer the question.”
The grip around your waist tightens. You want to laugh. As if you could’ve made a run for it in the first place. You tell him your name, and explain that you live alone. There’s no one else here but the two of you and you really do want to help.
“You were passed out on my fire escape. I couldn’t just leave you out there,” you explain cautiously.
The two of you stay like that for a minute longer. Then, a mechanical sigh sounds from behind you and the vice grip on your waist goes slack. You turn to him and see that he’s already halfway to your window.
“Hey! Wait! I can help!” you shout, scrambling after him.
“Don’t need it,” he snaps.
“You were bleeding out on my floor!” you exclaim.
You don’t know why you feel so strongly about this. Maybe because he seemed so…mortal. It’s easy to forget that these guys running around at night are people. They’re strong, tough, and capable, but they’re still human. The fact that he stumbles and has to catch himself on the window frame proves your point.
“Please. I promise I won’t take long. Please just let me help,” you beg.
He turns around and even through that unreadable helmet you can tell he’s sizing you up. You’re sure you must be a sight in your fuzzy white cat pajama pants, old Snoopy t-shirt, and fluffy white socks. Honestly, it’s a bit of a ridiculous tableau. Massive armed man in tactical gear opposite a woman in fluffy pajamas, both bloodstained. But either you seem harmless enough or he’s in exceptionally bad shape, because he just slumps against your wall and gives a barely noticeable nod of his head.
You go into autopilot the second you get his consent. A dining room chair is dragged to the center of your living room and Red Hood drops himself into it, the old wood creaking under the force. You go to assess the damage on his torso first. Light slashes litter his waist, none of them are deep enough for stitches. You grab the rubbing alcohol and cotton balls from the floor where you kneel before warning him that it might sting.
“I got slashed. Think that might’ve hurt a bit more,” he deadpans.
“Yeah, that’s fair.”
The torso slashes are light work. It takes all of five minutes to disinfect them and seal them shut with bandages. It’s his thigh that you’re a little more concerned about. There’s enough blood that it’s soaked his tactical pants around where you’re guessing the wound is. You can vaguely make out what appears to be cut fabric, so you’re assuming he was stabbed.
“How deep did the knife go?” you ask.
“Hm. ‘Bout two inches?” he offers.
“Why’d you take it out?” you ask incredulously. Anyone with half a brain knew not to take a knife out of a stab wound.
“No idea. Should’ve just gone runnin’ around the city with a knife wedged in my leg.”
The mask’s modulator does nothing to hide the teasing edge to his voice. Of everything you’d heard about Red Hood, you’d never heard he was such a smartass.
“You know how to do stitches?” he asks.
Great. So he saw the deer-in-headlights look you had while thinking about how to fix his stab wound.
“If you count mending clothing then, uh, sure,” you reply.
The white slits of the helmet stare hard at you before a warped chuckle comes from under it.
“Well, close enough.”
Oh, so he liked to gamble with his health then. Okay. Sure. Great. You could totally do this. Untrained, unlicensed, unsupervised you. You have to stop your hands from shaking as you thread the curved needle. You have to stop yourself from vomiting with anxiety as you push the needle through his skin. He hisses and you immediately feel bad. He’d handled the alcohol without flinching, but the stitches were a different story. You whisper sorry’s with every puncture of his skin you make. Soon enough, his leg is closed up and the whole thing is said and done.
“Okay, should be good to go,” you start, “Well, not good per se, but functional to go.”
A hum and a quick nod of his head are the only response you get before he’s back on his feet. He’s about to climb out your window for the second time tonight when you call out to him again. He turns around and you’d swear he almost seems exasperated.
“Take these with you. You’ll probably need them,” you say as you toss him a water bottle and a small carton of orange juice.
He snatches them easily from the air. But then he just stands there and stares at the drinks in his hands. You think you may have somehow offended him and go to apologize when he speaks.
“Thanks,” he says, mechanical voice catching on the word.
And then he’s gone. Out your window and off into the night. Once you shut and lock the window you feel exhaustion hit you like a freight train. All the adrenaline drains from you and it takes whatever energy you have left to collapse on to your bed and drift off to sleep.
You’ll never know it, but the Red Hood spends the last fifteen minutes of his patrol sipping his orange juice and dutifully watching your apartment window.
You’ll never know it, but Jason Todd lingers across the street to make sure you get home from the grocery store safely, and he scoffs as he sees you feed and pet a stray dog. It’s silly, he thinks.
Don’t you know that now you’ve shown it some kindness, it’ll just keep coming back?
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Collision
TW/CW: Car accident, injuries.
Pairing: Evan Buckley x Diaz!Reader
You smiled to yourself as you walked beside Christopher, your nephew. You had watched him in the morning while your brother was working, and Carla was attending an appointment. You didn’t mind though, you absolutely adored him, and he enjoyed spending time with you.
You had an hour to kill before dropping him off to Carla, and heading off to work yourself, so you decided to swing by the station to have lunch with the team. It was quiet when you arrived, indicating the team were on a call. You took it upon yourself to make lunch for everybody, knowing it would be a relief to them when they got back. Chris was sat at the table on his tablet, in a world of his own, allowing you to focus on the food. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as the sound of the shutters opening filled the station followed by heavy boots thudding against the floor as each firefighter jumped out of the truck. The footsteps got closer, the faint smell of smoke mixed with a familiar aftershave filled your nostrils and you instinctively lean back into the body that is now behind you as arms snake around your waist. “Isn’t this a nice surprise?”
You turn towards the voice, and smile, “Apparently, I can’t seem to stay away.” You lean up to kiss Buck, causing Chris to pull a disgusted face. This seemed to amuse Buck, and he kissed you again. Eddie appeared in the kitchen, and made his way over to his son, visibly happy to see him. “Come on guys, get a room.” You rolled your eyes playfully at your brothers comment, and pulled away from Buck.
You dished up the food for the team and took a seat, eager to hear about the call they had just been on. You listened intently as you ate, your complete focus on Buck as he spoke passionately about the call. Your heart warmed as you watched his face light up, he loved how much you genuinely enjoyed hearing about the calls, and how his day had gone. Chimney was the next to speak up, “It was a good call, except the part where Buck was playing hero and nearly got himself killed.” Bucks eyes widened and he turned to look at Chimney, giving him a look that immediately stopped him talking. Chimney, trying to help, began speaking again, “Don’t worry, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. It wasn’t any more dangerous than a simple call, the risk is always there. Besides, it was probably one of the safer times Buck tried to save the day, you should’ve seen him on the call last week.”
“Chim, stop talking.” Buck, who was now visibly on the spot, turned to face you. He studied your face, working out how to approach this. He opened his mouth to reassure you, but you beat him to it, “I thought we spoke about this…” Buck knew you understood that no day was guaranteed, and that saving people on calls was something he would always try to do, even if it put him at risk. He also knew that he had a habit of jumping the gun and putting himself in dangerous situations without thinking it through. “I’m sorry…”
You checked your watch, and stood up. “I just wish you’d be more careful, Buck.” Chris stood up and hugged Eddie goodbye, and you did the same. “Later bro.” You said goodbye to the team and walked back to the car with Chris by your side. The breeze hit you, and you took a deep breath. Maybe you were overreacting, maybe not but you just needed a moment. You helped Chris into the car and got in yourself, turning on the radio. The short ride to Carlas mostly consisted of Chris laughing as you sang along to the music, and the occasional conversation when Chris wasn’t overly engrossed in his phone. Carla was there to greet you when you pulled up on her drive, Chris was extremely excited and practically jumped out of the car to hug her. Carla gave you a hug, “Y/N, it’s so good to see you!” You smiled and hugged back, “It’s been a while, huh? Life has been hectic.” Carla laughs at this, “You’re telling me, your brother told me all about you and Buck. Moving in together? That’s a big step!”
“We were practically living together anyway, and if I’m being honest, Eddie is probably just relieved to have his couch back. I was starting to get on his nerves.” You explained to Carla, and she chuckled. “Well, I wish you all the best. I’m gonna get Chris inside, and I’ll let you run off to work. It was lovely seeing you.” You hug Chris goodbye and bid farewell to Carla before getting into your car and beginning your journey to your place of work. In front of you, the amber light turned to red and you stopped. You could see that traffic was beginning to build up on the other side of the junction, and you didn’t want to be late. You sighed, and made the decision to take an alternate route, so when the light turned green, you indicated and pulled out to begin taking your turning. You let out a sudden gasp before you could even properly register the car coming towards you. All you could do was attempt to brace for the impact, and so you did.
A loud crunching sound surrounded you, followed by the feeling of being thrown as your car was barrelled into. You closed your eyes tightly, scared of what was next. You didn’t have the courage to open them again until the car steadied. The first thing you could see was the airbag in front of you, despite not feeling it deploy moments before. You could smell the burning of the tyres, outside of the car, you could hear the panicked voices of bystanders, but all you could focus on was the blood that was now spread across your arms, unsure of where it was actually coming from. You weren’t in pain, at least you couldn’t feel any in that moment. Is that what shock feels like? You couldn’t think, but your eyes got heavy and you fought your hardest not to succumb to the darkness.
Back at the station, the call was only just coming in. The alarm blared throughout the station, alerting the team to the call. They were quick to jump into action, grabbing their gear and piling themselves into their assigned trucks. Eddie and Buck sat beside each other, speaking casually between themselves about what had happened earlier. “Just give her some time, she’ll come around. For her, two of the people she loves most are at risk everyday, you’ve gotta imagine it can’t be easy. It’s a risky job as it is, and when you put yourself into riskier situations without needing to, it decreases the chance of making it home at the end. She’s scared. Just talk to her.” Eddie attempted to reassure Buck, who was feeling terrible. He couldn’t shake the image of your face from his mind, the face that showed disappointment in his actions. Before Buck could respond, the truck halted and the team jumped out, ready to give help where needed. Buck stopped in his tracks as an all too familiar car was crushed before him. He tried not to panic, hoping that his suspicions were wrong. His eyes flicked to the number plate and his heart stopped. His feet were moving before his mind could catch up. He shouted your name, drawing Eddies attention. It took Eddie a few seconds to process what was happening. You had not long left the station, it couldn’t possibly be you. Right?
Buck arrived to your car first, nausea washed over him as he caught sight of your injured body. “Y/N? Hey, it’s me. I’m here.” You weren’t completely aware of what was happening, your eyes opened with a struggle. Your movements were weak as you turned your head to look at him. “Buck?” You spoke quietly, not completely aware of the situation at hand. “Don’t move, try and keep still.” He tried to remain as calm as he could, he didn’t want to scare you any more, he was terrified himself. Eddie ran right over to the car, his heart racing as he feared what he would find. His first instinct was to check the back seat, relief finally washing over him as he saw no sign of Christopher. Still, he needed to make sure, “Y/N, was Chris in the car?”
You shook your head, “Carlas.” Eddie felt a weight off his shoulders, knowing his son was safe. The weight soon came back when he saw the condition you were in. Your eyes rolled back, and you fell into unconsciousness. Bobby was running the scene, assigning Hen and Chim to medically assist you, and he grabbed the gear to support Buck and Eddie in freeing you from the car. Buck didn’t want to let go of your hand, but he knew he had to in order to get you out sooner. The team worked tirelessly, ensuring to be as careful as possible. Bobby handed the halligan to Buck, “Buck, you focus on getting the doors open. Diaz, grab the saw and be on standby.”
Buck groaned as he tried to pry the doors open, with no results, “Roofs too dented Cap, I can’t get it open.” Bobby nodded, and turned to Eddie, “Saws it is. Get in there Diaz, Buck, you too.” The roof was off in no time, Hen and Chim jumped straight in and equipped you with a neck brace, and got the back board in place to move you. Hen checked your vitals quickly, trying to make sure you were steady enough to be moved. “I’ve got a faint pulse, we gotta move.” They moved you out of you car quickly, and transferred you to the ambulance. “Trauma to the abdomen, possible internal bleeding. I’ll let the hospital know we’re en route.” Buck jumps into the back of the ambulance with Chimney, and instantly takes your hand in his. Hen places herself into the drivers seat, putting the ambulance into 911 mode and begins the journey as fast as she can to the nearest hospital.
Buck hated seeing you like this. He was filled with anxiety, the nausea constantly there as he studied your visible injuries. His heart sank with every second that went by, the more he thought about you laying there almost lifeless, expecting you to flatline any second now. “I’m sorry baby, we can’t leave things like this. I need you to get through this so I can apologise to you. I know I’m not the easiest person to love, and I also know that I’m the biggest pain in the ass, but I love you, and I need you. Please.” Buck sobbed as he held your hand tighter. Time seemed to be going extremely slow for Buck, yet moments later Hen was pulling up at the hospital. You were rushed in, Hen spewed all your information to the nurses as you were wheeled in and handed over. Buck, Hen and Chimney stood there as you were wheeled out of sight. One of the nurses stopped Buck from running after you, and he sat defeated in the waiting room. The rest of the team arrived soon after, Eddies face was similar to Bucks. Eddie spoke first, “Any update?” The lack of response from Buck had him on edge, fearing the worst. Luckily, Chimney filled the silence. “There’s no update, but no news it almost always good news.”
Eddie placed his hand on Bucks shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze before sitting down next to him. “How’re you holding up?” Buck didn’t look up, instead he kept his head in his hands. He couldn’t respond, he couldn’t trust his voice not to give out. His leg bounced anxiously, and despite not talking, his feelings were painfully obvious. Eddie could empathise, he knew exactly what was going through Bucks mind. It was happening to him too, but he concealed it as much as he could, knowing Buck needed him. “You know, each time we’re sat in these chairs, it never gets easier. You don’t have to talk, I get it. I think you should know that I’m right here for you, I understand. Y/N is going to be okay, that I have no doubt about. She’s my sister, and us Diaz’s, we don’t back down. We fight.” Eddie continues talking, and he’s not sure whether he’s trying to convince Buck or himself.
A few hours go by, and the team are waiting as patiently as they can for an update. Maddie had arrived some time ago, and was sat with Buck. She was not only there to support her brother, but also her brothers girlfriend, who Maddie had claimed as her best friend shortly after meeting her. Bobby hands a coffee to Buck and Eddie, who hadn’t moved from their seats since arriving. This changed moments later as a nurse approached, making them stand. Buck felt as if his legs were going to give way any second. The nurse cleared her throat, “She’s stable. She’s incredibly lucky to have made it out with the injuries she did, it could’ve been a lot worse. She’s awake, if you’d like to go see her.”
Buck didn’t stick around to hear whatever else the nurse had to say, he darted through the corridor until he got to your room. He stopped to take a deep breath, and stepped inside. He was scared to look at you, all he could picture was you covered in blood still. His head shot up as he heard a voice, your voice to be exact, “Buck?”
He was by your bedside in a blink of an eye, taking your hand in his. His eyes wandered over your body, taking in each of your injuries. His heart broke a little more with each one. He finally looked you in the eyes, and that’s when it hit him. His eyes filled up with tears, “Y/N…”
“Hey, don’t cry. I’m fine, see. I’m right here.” You gave his hand a squeeze, trying to give him the reassurance he needed. Buck took a seat close to your bed, your hand in his and against his lips. You move your hand up to his cheek and wipe his tears, Buck practically melted into your touch. “I really thought I had lost you.”
“I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. I need to apologise for my reaction earlier, that could’ve been our last conversation earlier and left without saying goodbye, or telling you how much I love you.”
Buck shook his head, “You have nothing to apologise for, I’m the one that owes you an apology. I’m sorry that I’m not more careful when I’m out on a call, I shouldn’t be that reckless. I’m sorry that I can’t promise to walk through that door every night, safe and unscathed. I can appreciate how you feel now, and I promise I’ll try my hardest to be more careful. I love you, and I don’t want you ever feeling anything close to what I’ve felt today.” You wince as you sit up, making Buck panic. You push through the pain, and pull Buck to you. “Come here.” He stands from his chair and leans down to kiss you quickly. He carefully moves your hair from your face, ensuring he doesn’t touch any of your cuts or bruises.
“I love you too, and even though I’m petrified that you won’t make it home one day, I trust that you’ll try everything in your power to make sure you do. I’m proud of you, Evan.” As you spoke, Buck smiled to himself. A sense of relief washed over him. Before he could respond, you continued. “So… does this mean I can finally get a new car now?”
Buck chuckled, “You’re a pain in the ass, Diaz.”
“Takes one to know one, Buck.”
A/N: So, I think I rewrote this like 10 times. Its been a while since I've done any writing, so please bare with me while I figure out my writing style again. Any criticism is welcome, I appreciate the feedback.
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