#eraser head x all might
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♡/♛- It's Been A While
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➸ INTERESTS; -mha!shouta aizawa x quirk-using!freader
➸ BACKGROUND; - after an attack at the high school you studied in, you were requested by your work firm and the firm of that school to work as a teacher there for extra security, incase an attack were to occur again to protect the students (and teachers). Unfortunately, it won't be as easy as you expected when you rekindle with old friends, and a specific someone.
➸ WARNINGS; - wc. 2.1k uu slow burn, second chance, ex-lovers, medication/pill usage, dissociation, anxiety mentions.
➸a.i; - omg new category!! im working a lot guys brace w me!! ill be working on other masterlists and stories and such trustttt, also this is going to be a fanfic!! no more one-shots sorry for the torture
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♡/♛- It's Been A While Masterlist
"Please, there has to be some other way. I'm already busy enough here, this is way out of my league." You complained, tossing your hands up in the air.
"There is no other way" your supervisor responded, you sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of your nose.
"There's no one else available to take on this job?" You asked your boss, who only nodded as he sat at his table with crossed arms.
This was unbelievable, you of all people in this city and they choose you. You're one of the busiest women out there, especially outside of your so called 'once in a blue moon hero duty'. You're part of a government organization for fuck's sake, your entire job is to stay under wraps. You had people who depended on you, a firm to carry on your shoulders as second in command to your chief, just to give it all up to become a teacher back at your high school.
"As of now the school could use all the extended help they can get. You have connections to the school and have learned there before, plus all other heroes with solid quirks that would work in their favor are either already working there or are too busy to be there for hours on end, but you can." He said in a cool tone, handing you all of the paperwork and pointing to the amount of damage and casualties that happened during the accident, you only closed your eyes and shook your head.
"Okay" you said softly, picking up the papers and stacking them in order, placing them in your folder and shoving the folder in your work bag, not wanting to argue. He thanked you for your cooperation and told you you'd start the beginning of next week, Monday. Today was Thursday, giving you a little time to mentally prepare yourself for what was to come.
Of course, as any normal person you were curious, thousands of questions running through your mind which you were sure you'd get answers to during the tour and explanation that was awaiting you over the weekend.
You weren't too concerned about working or teaching students, you'd already knew all about them and had also known you'd cover a chemistry class, you were concerned about using your quirk.
The last time you had used it in the face of danger, things didn't end well for you. It's a great quirk yes, but the aftermath and side effects of it always left a heavy toll on you.
It truly was an accident, well not really. It was ruled out as a case of self-defense and your firm was to cover the damages. You were out with a friend from work until a large commotion was heard outside, where you two had stepped out, ready to leap into action and help whoever was in need.
Apparently, it was a hijack situation on a train in the city, that was now approaching downtown at an insane amount of speed. Your friend had already agreed she'd help escort people out of the way and into safer zones, in case the bus had crashed in the area you and hundreds of other people were in.
You nodded in response, quickly thinking what around you could've been useful to possibly slow it down or bring it to a stop in time to call for reinforcements.
Unfortunately, a child had wandered off into the middle of the road ahead of you without realizing it, and without thinking you ran up, covering her with your body and you held out your hand to shield her, shutting your eyes tightly and using your quirk.
Unintentionally, you had now turned the train into water, wetting you and all other people downtown that were trying to avoid the train crash. Thankfully for you the train was a rather medium sized one, so the water produced from the train by your quirk hadn't caused any damage downtown.
You quickly stood up with the little girl by your side, who quickly ran to accompany her mother once she spotted her in the crowd. You stood there in awe, looking at everyone else and turning back around, seeing the hijackers now sitting on the floor, dripping from head to toe in water.
You were slightly relieved, thankful you hadn't turned them into water. Soon after your friend accompanied you to, tying up the three troublemakers and leaving them off to the side and awaiting law-enforcement to arrive.
Having the powers of matter transmutation meant the world was your canvas, all you had to do was touch it. Creating any matter, you had into something you wanted to, but the only downside being that you weren't able to convert things to people or animals, whether living or not.
You didn't necessarily see it as a bad side, it honestly could be a blessing in disguise, especially since you had such a wild imagination when you were younger.
As you grabbed your belongings from your office and made your way back to your car you began to think about your first day working at the high school.
You loved children, well... most of them. Teenagers now were such pains in the ass, and you've had your fair share with a few, either being rude, weird, or just freaky horn-dogs that obviously weren't loved enough by their parents.
Hopefully things wouldn't go back when you start, and you didn't have to use your quirk as often as all other teachers in the school do.
Unlocking the door to your car you opened it and placed your bag inside as you sat in the driver's seat, starting your car and driving off back to your apartment.
After around 5 to 10 minutes of driving you stop at a red light, resting your head back onto your seat with a sigh, mentally drained for the day. As you waited for the light to change color you felt as if a pair of eyes were on you, before you were able to turn around and see who it was the light had turned green, you only shrugged it off and drove off, keeping your mind on how Monday would be.
Maybe it was the students or the teachers, but an uneasy feeling rested in your stomach, making you feel wheezy. It definitely was the thought of the teachers, more or so your new colleagues.
Well not new colleagues, more like old friends and companions. You knew them all well enough, being classmates and close friends back in high school and distancing after graduation and everyone else focusing on going professional in the hero department.
You had always envisioned yourself as a hero there, waiting to fight side by side with everyone, but towards the end you realized that without having proper control of your quirk you were probably safe enough to not do so. Protecting yourself and everyone else in case of an accident or any immediate dangers.
Guilt slowly began to eat you alive as you arrived in the parking lot of your apartment complex, parking and shutting your car off before taking a deep breath and exhaling sharply.
This was not going to go your way, and you know it.
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It was now Monday morning and honestly, that 3-day weekend wasn't enough to prepare yourself for what was to come. You hadn't gotten any sleep from the night before out of overthinking, and honestly you weren't even tired.
Your brain's constant buildup of stress has been keeping you up for a while and was the right amount of motivation you needed to get this day over with. You had gone to the small training practices and tours of the school over the weekend, seeing new buildings and practice rooms that were extended from when you previously attended.
You had decided to get ready 2 hours in advance, showering and now doing a small amount of skincare before doing your makeup. Even with your quirk and all of the stuff you'd bought for your skin, even the thought of stress makes you begin to breakout, you sighed as a pimple appeared on the upper left corner of your forehead. You only shook your head and began to apply your makeup, finishing a little later than you expected because you couldn't decide if you wanted lashes on or not.
You made the decision to wear them, first impressions are everything. You fixed your hair in a style you liked, deciding to keep it down instead of a ponytail with a side part and gathered your things and looked in the mirror one last time before exiting out the door.
The closer and closer you were getting to the school the more your stomach churned out of anxiety. It could've been anxiety, or maybe the fact you skipped out on breakfast just to be here early, as all teachers must arrive before the students. Whatever it was you didn't like it at all, and you felt your head begin to spin.
"Not again" you whispered to yourself, now opening your glove department looking around for your prescribed medications, pushing past the other 3 you didn't need now until you found one that read 'Valium', opening the capsule and taking a pill, realizing you had nothing to take or drink it down with.
You sighed heavily as you took the bottle with you, grabbing your coat from the back of your driver seat along with your bag and shoving the pills in your coat pocket. Soon locking your car and placing your keys in the bag as well, beginning to walk your way over to the building.
You needed to find something to drink so you could take this pill, before your anxiety gets the best of you and your quirk gets out of hand. You reached for your phone in your pocket and checked the time, barely 7:30, perfect. It's too early for classes to start when everyone gets situated at 8:00-8:10, where could you kill time with a cup of water or anyth-
The teachers' lounge, oh yeah, it's shocking how quickly you forgot about it when you were here not even 48 hours ago. You walked inside taking a left, praying your memory wasn't playing tricks on you as you walked over to the supposed teachers' lounge, hearing small chatter and commotion.
The last thing you wanted to do was draw attention onto yourself, you quickly entered and made your way to the back, walking slowly praying your heeled boots didn't make too loud of a noise.
You quickly spotted a large fancy water dispenser, clasping your hands together as you looked up and mouthing the words 'amen' before grabbing a small white silicon cup and pouring some for yourself.
In one swift movement you dug into your pocket, pulling out your pill bottle and opening it, taking one and placing it on your tongue as you closed the capsule, putting it back in your pocket. Your cup that was now filled with water you chugged down and refilled it to take another to attempt to flood out the aftertaste, until you were stopped.
Before you could lift the cup up to your lips you were immediately lifted into the air from behind, listening to a familiar voice cheer your name. You immediately went into a panic, turning your previous cup of water, now into nothing but sand, pouring over you and the arms around your lower waist.
"Hizashi!!" You shouted, now trying to pry yourself out of his grasp, your feet swinging in the air as he laughed, quickly putting you down. You immediately scoffed and dusted yourself off, rolling your eyes at his comments and horrible jokes, bending down to the small sand pile you created, forming it back into a silicone cup before throwing it away.
"It's good to see you again seriously, I'm surprised you agreed to come here seeing why you left, with your new fancy job and all." He said, placing his hand on your shoulder and pretending to wipe a fake tear, you only shook your head and smiled at him.
He hasn't changed at all since you last saw him nearly a decade ago, it warmed your heart honestly. You only responded in agreement to his saying, hugging him as he did back to you.
He wasted no time in bringing you to the other side of the teachers' lounge, where you reunited with old friends and shared a few laughs and nice memories before you were all abruptly stopped by hearing a loud slam of the door opening.
As luck would have it, you had another cup in your hand that had coffee in it as the incident occurred, but thankfully your medication had kicked in. You panicked as you nearly spilled the coffee onto yourself, taking a sigh of relief as you moved in time, spilling partial of it onto the floor. Smiling to yourself slightly as you felt the dosage of your medication now starting to affect your mind, making you disassociate.
As everyone paid their attention to the door and expressed words with one another you had bent over, using your quirk and making your coffee spill on the floor a small tissue.
You picked it up and turned to throw it away, completely blocking out the sounds of everyone's voices and small laughter as you made your way to the same trashcan as before, bumping into someone.
"I'm sorry" you said, snapping out of your small trance and zoning back into reality, turning your head to the side to see whose shoulder's you had hit, only to lock eyes with them instantly.
"Shota" you said, nearly breathless as if at a loss for words, he looked at you in shock,
No this wasn't shock,
It seemed to be sadness
maybe sorrow?
"Y/n" he replied, quickly looking away from you and walking away, your eyes trailed his figure as he left.
Out of everything that had happened this morning, and the effects of your medication, you completely forgot that your past lover worked here, and you'd be working alongside him.
He only went over to the coffee table, grabbing a cup and exiting the room, you only looked over to Hizashi and Nemuri, nibbling on your bottom lip. They glanced over to one another, then looked back at you, each placing their hand on each of your shoulders as the bell rang for everyone to get to class.
You were right, this wasn't going to go your way, at all.
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✴🕷 please do not copy, plagiarize, edit, or translate any works submitted by me. all works are originated and all other pictures used within those works are online images. thank you!! @kryptznnn
#mha fanart#mha#mha x reader#mha liveblog#boku no hero acedamia#my hero acedamia#my hero academia#bnha#boku no hero academia#mha aizawa#mha all might#mha afo#mha au#aizawa shouta#aizawa shōta#aizawa x reader#bnha aizawa#shota aizawa#bnha shouta aizawa#bhna#yamada hizashi#eraser head#shouta aizawa fanart#shouta aizawa x reader#nemuri kayama#mha nemuri#bnha nemuri#mha midnight#bnha art#bnha x reader
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━━ ❝ the way of the househusband ❞
☾₊‧⁺...cw : househusband!fushiguro toji x fem!reader, you are megumi's mom, flirting, playful banter, just overall silly and cute domestic life
☾₊‧⁺...lunar's note : just some simple lil toji hcs of him as a househusband! i need some sweet stuff of him without a lot of sexual stuff in it bc let's be real, in a domestic setting he's probably just a big clingy and mildly annoying bear husband
f. toji is never going to complain about being the one staying home, watching over the little gremlin that is megumi. he's got his own ways of bringing in money with that friend of his, shiu, but he's more than content to being the one in the frilly pink apron, cooking for you and the lil' man.
toji didn’t ever expect to get married, especially after how he was treated as a zenin. he didn't know much about love or how to connect with people, let alone you. but when you handed his ass to him with no struggle and a pretty smile on your face at the gym, he knew he wanted you. two years later and a shit load of aggressive flirting, toji ends up with you as his spouse and he wouldn't have it any other way.
so imagine toji's surprise when he's genuinely excited when you tell him your pregnant. he's excited but scared. him? a father? there's no way in hell he has any idea what to do, his own father was nothing but a piece of shit...so what if he turns out like him? but the moment you pop that big headed little fucker out of you, toji can't help but grin, that excitement of being a father and creating memories with this tiny little thing erasing all his fears.
whenever you come home from work, toji's usually in the living room with little megumi, who forced him to take part in the exercise part of his favorite kids show. you don't know how megumi, your one year old baby who still talked in little babbles, forced his massive giant of a father who could kill a man with a look to do 'exercise for baby,' but you know better than to question it when you see the two touching their toes in front of the tv.
sometimes, he's in the kitchen, however, wearing that 'kiss the cook' apron you got for his birthday. toji always wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into a kiss, muttering a 'welcome home’ against your lips before poking your side and going back to what he was doing, proud grin on his face at the little screech he gets from you.
he's started to get better at dodging your hands when you go to poke him back, skirting around the table before going to scoop megumi up. “you would never do such an act in front of 'gumi, would you? what if he starts going around poking girls in their sides, hm? then i'll have to explain to his teacher that his mama can't keep 'er hands to herself.”
toji's got you there...so you back off, opting to press a kiss to babygumi’s little forehead, taking him from your husband’s arms when he makes grabby hands at you. you savor the betrayed look on toji's face, sticking your tongue out at him. he scoffs, rolling his eyes before going back to make sure dinner wasn’t burnt. he’ll get you back for stealing his son from him.
despite what people might think, there’s not really a 'dominant' person in the relationship. when together, the two of you give off some of the most intimidating vibes because of the sheer power the both of you carry. it's not even put off by little megumi, because if he notices his parents looking at you in disgust, he's gonna give you one that's even worse.
toji will never forget the day the three of you went to the grocery store, him in his usual black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, you in one of those same shirts and leggings with megumi in the kiddie seat in the shopping cart, eating from the little snack pack toji made for him. toji swears he walked away for three fucking seconds, and he came back to some...fucker getting ready to chat you up. it’s no surprise anyone that he gets pissed, ready to storm over there and make it clear you're taken.
however, it's clear you don't need him to step in, and damn, you look...really hot telling this dude off, angrily flashing your ring when he wouldn't back off. god, he wishes he could marry you again. toji doesn’t even know what you told the guy, and he's tempted to playfully ask megumi what happened, knowing his lil' man would try to respond in babbles and coos.
“he said you crawled out from the trash, toj, i can't stand for that! he could’ve done you some justice and said you crawled out of the deepest pits of hell, so I had to educate him on that. besides, he called you my boyfriend and I almost punched his face.” “yeah? hm, i’m glad you didn’t, babe, we don’t want to get kicked out the store.” “i don’t know, i think an imprint of my ring in his forehead would get the message across.” “well, next time, how about we just kiss like we haven't seen each other in 15 years? not a fan of showing out to some dude, but i'd do it for you, sweetheart.” “mmn!” “right, lil' man? mama's so mean t' me, it's a good idea.” “gumiiii, you're supposed to be on my side!”
occassionally, when you're at work, toji'll just talk to megumi, the little one nice and comfy on his chest.
one habit he'll never get out of is randomly calling you throughout the day when he's particularly bored and missing you. if you don't answer, toji will just leave you a message, usually about how badly he wants you to come home, groaning about how tired he is but he can't sleep without you in his arms, without you playing with his hair until he falls asleep. he's so in love with you, it's almost makes you dizzy.
you'll never forget the day you come home to toji and baby megumi in the front yard, crouched down around...something. parking in the driveway, you make your way over and see what they're looking at. it's...a kitten and a puppy, two tiny little things playfighting with each other. neither one of them say anything, just looking at the two creatures. you sigh, knowing exactly what this means.
"...give them appropriate names and make vet appointments. we aren't naming the dog 'hot dog' and we aren't naming the cat 'kitten'." "i told you it would work, lil' man."
all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work
#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x reader#toji x you#toji x y/n#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen hcs#toji fushiguro x you#toji fushiguro hcs#jjk hcs#jjk fluff#toji fluff#toji fushiguro fluff#🔪 ── toji.#˗ˏˋ ★ lxnarworks .ᐟ
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Swim
IZ*ONE Kim Minju x Male Reader | (Tags: Smut)
A/N: #BreedMinju. Thank you to Kaede for beta reading as always.
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You never imagined in your wet dreams, in all of the times you masturbated to her, or even that time you drunk texted her a picture of you shirtless after one too many drinks at the bar that the woman you met inside the elevator during your first day at the company some two odd years ago would be in your apartment watching some rom-com from the 90s that you are too inebriated to remember the title of. Your heart is pounding, partly because of the double serving of triple shot espresso you perhaps shouldn’t have drank this morning and partly because she looks devastatingly stunning in that white shirt that completely conceals whatever shorts she maybe wearing underneath which further accentuates those long legs of hers—
“I don’t remember the TV facing this direction, unless there’s something on my face?”
Shit.
Aside from her God-given physical features, it’s the way she can toy with your feelings and flirt with you so effortlessly that always leaves you wanting for more. Every single little interaction with her is an adventure on its own; the way she would wink at you every time you pass by her in the office, the way she would walk up to you to fix your tie while telling you how your perfume “smells like the oceanside on a summer day” —whatever the hell that means— or how she would always give you words of encouragement with that bright smile of hers during stressful days.
It should mean something, has to mean something. Right? You can’t ask anyone for advice either, not when you’re the only two people born on this side of the century in your department. Your coworkers are either divorced or having a midlife crisis, and quite frankly, you might be having a quarter-life crisis if such a thing exists. You can’t stay professional any longer, and you are more than thankful that you’re not at the workplace right now because the thoughts swimming inside your head are absolutely not safe for work. And it’s all because of this fucking woman that’s laughing as if everything is sunshine and rainbows: Kim Minju.
It doesn’t help that she’s the prettiest woman you know. even more so than the handful of girls you’ve hooked up with during college. Evidently, you are not the only one that shares that sentiment because you don’t miss the old way some of your older male coworkers would give her a certain, disgusting look that you wish to erase from your memories and you know she deserves better than them. She deserves someone like you, but you don’t exactly know if that feeling is reciprocated. But as to how far you can push your luck, you haven’t found out the answer to that yet—perhaps tonight is the night.
“Are you still with me? Or did my goddess face lure you in too deep?”
That now makes the two of you not paying attention to the movie—granted you’ve already seen it at least a dozen times during college when you were a hopeless romantic but who are you to turn down Minju when she specifically requested it? Plus, that’s not your concern at this very moment when she scoots ever so closely to you and the heat her skin radiates is enough to burn you. “Honestly, I don’t blame you if you have a crush on me. I sort of have that effect on guys.” There’s that fucking wink again, and the way she pouts her lips as if she is posing for a selfie. “I admire your resilience though, most guys would have me moaning their names on their bed already by this point.”
“Not funny, Minju.” It really isn’t, not when she’s mere inches away from you and if you were just a bit more drunk now those irresistible lips of hers would be meshed with yours now. You try to look away but you can’t, they captivate you to no end and you don’t even want to look away now—the sheen on those cherry red lips, the way they stand out against her milky white skin, the way she then bites her lower lips as to tempt you even further, the way sweat slowly drips down the side of her face and to her neck and you think they’d look good with your bite marks all over them.
Even if you look down, her succulent thighs and legs are all that will pervade your senses and you won’t be able to stop thinking about how you just want to rip whatever garments she’s wearing underneath and have her spread her legs while you eat her out like she’s your last meal on Earth. “You can’t just keep doing this for years and not expect me to make a move eventually.”
“Then what’s stopping you, hmm?”
Minju somehow shifts even closer to you, her lips practically brushing against yours, her eyes staring deep into your soul, her hands resting on your thighs. She probes into you even deeper, much deeper than any other time and emergency sirens are popping up in your head. There have been many close encounters like this, way too many for your liking.
The way she would wear pencil skirts on certain days and make it her mission to bend over in front of you as much as possible to show the unreal curvature of her ass—then proceeding to smirk as if she doesn’t know how much your cock wants to burst through your pants. The way she would purposely bump into you and pretend to fall so you can pull her into an inadvertent hug.
Or when she would wear those dresses that hug her curves tightly during galas and she would give you a courtesy hug for a second longer than corporate policies would allow. Or when she kissed you during Christmas party last year and claimed that she had to do it because you two were “underneath a mistletoe.”
It all has to end tonight, because God forbid you have to spend another night alone on your bed making a mess while you shoot ropes after ropes all over yourself thinking about her. It’s exhausting having to play these games with her when you’re 99% sure she is into you and you have to take action now before someone else does.
“Minju, I don’t think you’re ready for what I’m packing down there.” You test the waters even further, carefully studying her facial expressions while trying not to get lost in her eyes. It’s quite a difficult task when the alcohol is hitting you harder by the minute but when a sly grin appears across her face as if to challenge that statement, you know you have her right where you want her.
“Oh trust me, I know what you’re packing down there.” Minju glances downwards at your erection and your sweatpants are doing a poor job with how it’s about to poke through your pants. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be spending my Friday night here when I could be hanging out with Chaewon and Yujin.” It’s getting dangerous now, her hands traveling down your body and cupping your length through two layers of clothing.
And honestly you might as well be naked now with the way your cock reacts to her touch —your tip is leaking heavily and your breath starts to shorten. “So what’s it gonna be? You can’t tell me you have a different plan for how this night is going to end.” You can’t push back any further, you won’t push back. You take the first dip, lips pressed hungrily onto hers and she takes this opportunity to swing her legs over and straddle you on your couch—the movie in the background is long forgotten and all you care about right now is her.
You straighten yourself up and wrap your arms around her waist possessively; two years of pent up sexual frustration finally coming to an end and you make the most of it. Her lips are everything you’ve dreamed of; soft and sweet and succulent and you can’t help but think about how they slot in with yours perfectly as if you were meant to kiss her all this time. Your hands travel to her face to cup her cheeks, pushing her head deeper into yours and you notice her hands encircling around your back.
You take a break to catch your bearings, staring deep again at her now lust-filled eyes and you get a front row seat to the facial expression you’ve been dying to see for forever now. She moans into your mouth when one of your hands slides underneath her dress shirt to feel her smooth skin and the ridges of her abs which itself isn’t a surprise—what is surprising is the lack of bra when you travel further upwards and you come into contact with tits that you are sure is perky and round. “What a fucking slut, Minju. No bra?”
Your suspicions are confirmed when you practically rip the buttons off her shirt and throw it somewhere in your living room and your mouth waters at the sight of her breasts, they are definitely not the biggest you’ve seen but the way they sit on her perfectly shaped body with all of her curves and intricacies is more than enough to make up for it. “What’s the use of wearing one when I knew we were gonna end up like this anyways?” But before you could dive down to taste them you find your shirt being removed as well and the hunger in your eyes is mirrored by the way she’s staring down at your own pack of abs.
“I mean if I had it my way I would’ve told you to be shirtless already with only your boxers on before I came over but you can’t have everything in life right?” She is as handsy as you, those delicate fingers mapping your chest and your stomach with every little touch as if to decipher where her lips would go later. But you absolutely cannot wait any longer, grabbing her hand and placing it on her sides while you devour her nipples. Taking her left breasts between your lips while massaging the right one and the whimper of your name that escapes her lips is downright sinful while you alternate between the two.
You lick, slurp, and at times even get your teeth involved—just anything that can get her squirming and writhing on your lap is enough to fuel you. Even more so when she pushes your head deeper into her chest and she’s moaning “more please, fuck” in between whimpers.
Minju is one needy girl and that’s one fact that you find out quickly when she starts to grind on your hips and you can feel just how warm and wet her shorts are. You inadvertently bite on her nipples and she screams your name at the sensation. You utter a “sorry” in response but it doesn’t really matter when she gets off of you and you think you’ve absolutely screwed up. Fucking great. She stands up and you are about to give a more sincere and heartfelt apology but those thoughts are quickly washed away when she removes her shorts and then her panties.
“I want to see that cock. Now.”
You don’t waste a single moment before you proceed to do the same thing to your undergarments and the sight of her fully naked in front of you causes you to leak even more precum with your cock freely exposed to the air. Minju looks hot—which in itself might be an understatement with the way she’s fucking you with those wide eyes of hers, the way her nipples are glimmering under the lights of your living room thanks to your saliva, the way her abs contract with every breath she takes, the way those stocky thighs are slick with her essence. Forget those wet dreams because none of them could match witnessing the actual Kim Minju naked in real life in your apartment.
Minju squeals when you drag her back down towards you to make her straddle your lap again. No more games, no more foreplay, you slowly sink her down your cock and drink in her moans when she buries her face in your shoulder. She is suffocatingly tight, extremely wet but tight and you almost spill mere seconds after finally inserting your entire length inside her. You wince slightly as her manicured nails press into your shoulders and eventually your back. “Fucking—shit—If I only knew—”
Your pace is slow and methodical, even though you want to just pound her into oblivion and have her screaming to the point your neighbors will complain the morning after. She is Minju after all and she deserves that respect, but as to how long you can control yourself you don’t know. For now, you are content to just have her in your arms and revel in this moment that you’d never thought would ever come. Just feeling how your cock molds perfectly inside her and how her small bunny hops gradually increase over time and her face becomes lost in pleasure is more than enough.
Especially when you feel every inch of her goddess-like body pressed against yours when she arches up to you; her thighs bouncing against yours, her abs grinding against yours, and those breasts pressed against your chest. “—so deep, fuck—harder!” It’s about time you take control and you do just that, you plant your feet to the ground and you grab handfuls of her asscheeks with each hand before thrusting up in time with her thrust and Minju’s gone completely delirious now.
Gone are the coherent sentences as they are now replaced by expletive-filled chants of pleasure. She’s damn near crying on your cock, tears welling up in her eyes due to pleasure and so you pull her face away to get a glimpse of her sweat-misted face and how her eyes are unfocused. You don’t know what came over you but you feel your heart skip a beat seeing such surreal beauty up close and personal so you pull her in for another makeout session, continuing your long and hard thrusts while your tongue ravages her mouth much like your cock does with her pussy.
“Fucking hell, we should’ve done this sooner.” Another kiss on her lips, then another lick of her nipples—make that two licks, no in fact, you devour them once more. It’s becoming clearer that they’re starting to become your favorite part of her body and it’s completely justified. “ I can’t believe I had to jack off to your pictures when you were just one call away.” The woman in question doesn’t respond but she blushes, the raw honesty of your words is enough to reveal that shy and demure side of her again despite the situation you two are currently in.
Minju just brushes her hair aside in response while looking away, taking the initiative to bounce on your cock and you let her take over once again. “W-Well I’m here now—“ A particularly hard thrust deep into a certain spot inside her has her clenching around your cock much tighter than usual, you take mental note of this “—I hope I’m as good as advertised.” Of course she is and even better than whatever scenario you were cooking up inside your head, but instead of showing it through words you just smile at her and hope that it’s enough to show your admiration and you let your body do the talking.
You’re noticing how tired she’s becoming being on top so you don’t waste any more time and pick up the pace while still letting her guide the way. It’s silence between the two of you aside from the sounds of passionate lovemaking and that is just enough to push you two closer to the edge. You feel her clench tighter around you again and likewise you can feel your balls throbbing in anticipation too. It’s been a stressful week at work and there’s no better place to unload than inside her welcoming pussy. You’re just as close to her as reaching your orgasm and it’s becoming extremely difficult not to do anything but to burst inside hers.
Forget the lovemaking, you lift her up by her asscheeks and stand up from the couch and you immediately feel her limbs coil around your body as she gasps at the sensation of being fully seated by your cock. You start to thrust up again, this time more relentlessly without the restrictions of the couch and she’s leaking even more now and you can actually feel her juices stream down your cock and you know she’s extremely close. “D-Don’t stop, please. Don’t you ever fucking stop!” She’s bouncing much higher than before, almost completely unsheathing your length before she crashes back down on it again and now she’s actually crying in pleasure.
“Hnnghhh! Fuck! I can’t, I can’t—” There was certainly no way she was going to last any longer. “—G-Gonna cum on your cock!” And a few more of those wild thrusts is all it takes to set her off, going limp and forcing you to grab hold of her even tighter so she doesn’t slip off—a task given difficult given how much sweat is emanating both of your bodies but you don’t care especially when all of those juices causes you to slip out of her for a minute and you don’t care about the mess you two are making on the floor at this very moment when you’re about to follow her with your own orgasm.
“Such a fucking good girl for me, Minju.” You slide back inside her, this time it’s easier thanks to the lubrication she provided and you can’t help but grit your teeth and close your eyes. It’s too much, all of this. What transpired tonight and what it means for your future. It’s all too much to handle and you can’t hold it any longer. You’re about to give her the biggest load you’ve ever given anyone. “You deserve all of this, I’ve wanted you so fucking bad.“ All she can do is nod as she is still sensitive from her own orgasm but with the way she’s wrapping her arms around you tighter she wants it as badly as you do. “Gonna fucking cum inside.”
“Please! I want your hot—hnggh—I want your cum. Please. When a beautiful woman like her gives you such a permission you don’t waste it, you hold her tight as you begin to pump ropes after ropes of cum in her pussy with every deep thrust. You don’t want to stop cumming, can’t stop cumming—your legs going weak and forcing you to sit down on the couch while you continue to unload deep inside Minju. It feels fucking euphoric, feeling your load drip back down to your cock and balls as that seemed to drain the soul out of you.
You’ve been holding back from the moment you first saw her all those years ago and there’s no better feeling than this, not even a promotion could rival how addicting having sex with her feels and you want more. You want to continue diving into the ocean that is Kim Minju even if it means drowning, nothing else matters but her.
As if to try to coax more cum out of you, Minju continues to grind her hips while kissing you. This time it’s much more slow and gentle while you lay her on the couch and hover on top of her. It’s beautiful how her hair, though disheveled, cascades down her shoulders and fans out on the cushion below.
Her limbs are still wrapped tight around you, your softening cock starting to harden while you begin to fuck her once more—you’re making a mess of the couch with how you’re fucking your cam back into her but it doesn’t matter when she’s going to be filled again. “You still have enough cum for me? I’m surprised.”
You place kisses on her neck this time, making sure to leave marks dark enough that no amount of foundation can conceal it once Monday comes around. Surprisingly she doesn’t protest, perhaps she does want everyone to find out about you two. “Guess I didn’t do a good job of draining you, huh?” You respond by fucking her harder into the couch, feeling the furniture creak and move with every thrust and you render her speechless once again.
Lean down to capture those bouncing tits in your mouth and continue to work her to another orgasm which wasn’t difficult to accomplish considering how sensitive she still is. It didn’t take long to set you off either and you unload whatever remaining load you have, which is still plenty considering you almost passed out with how much you left inside her just ten minutes ago.
She urges you to sit up on the couch again and she gets off of it to kneel down in front of you before then taking your flaccid cock in her mouth to clean you off. The sight is pornographic, the way she shows off your combined juices on her tongue before making a show of swallowing it all. “Hmm, we taste good together. I don’t mind having some more of that.”
Minju gets off her knees to sit down right beside you and the way her naked body glistens under the natural light outside your apartment is an unparalleled sight that has your heart swooning and doing backflips. “Well, I’m free this entire weekend.” And perhaps shooting your shot when all of this has already happened is quite a ridiculous predicament to be in but you don’t want to be selfish after all. Surely a girl like her has plenty of suitors you’re not aware of and you don’t want to tie her down especially when nothing is official yet.
“I guess I could be convinced.”
Those ten seconds of silence felt like an eternity. But it was all worth it the moment she gives you that smile that makes your heart race even faster. And despite kissing her for what seems like a million times already, this one has special weight. As if to tell the world that the most beautiful woman you have ever known and perhaps will ever know is now yours and there’s nothing that could change that. Screw all of those disgusting old men with their mid-life crisis because your quarter-life crisis just ended in the most satisfying way possible.
You’re embarrassed by the way you whine the moment you don’t feel her lips on yours anymore but you are quickly consoled the moment she stands up and turns around to flaunt that perfectly shaped ass of hers. Suddenly, blood rushes to your cock again as if you didn’t cum twice already.
“Come on, take me to your bedroom.” Minju eyes you like a piece of meat once again when she pulls you up to your feet.
“There’s one more hole you forgot to fill.”
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‘DRIVERS PLEASURE’ — MATTHEW STURNIOLO
pairing. matthew sturniolo x fem!reader genre. smut
word count. 2.2k
❝do you want me to help you with that?❞
content warnings. established relationship, explicit content, car head, oral (m receiving), blowjob, handjob, small mention of spitting, mention of hair pulling, possible exhibitionism,
You sigh softly as you glance at your reflection in the sun visor mirror of your boyfriends car, fingertips grazing the corner of your lips, erasing any excess lipstick that may have smeared during the ride and that your mascara hasn’t left any smudges on your eyelids.
You rushed when Matt had suddenly asked you out on a last-minute date and you were more than desperate to see him, having not been alone with him for a long period of time due to his busy schedule.
You had rapidly searched around your bedroom for the most suitable and clean clothing you could find, and hastily applied your makeup, your eagerness to finally see him overshadowed any concerns about your appearance until you you were parked outside the restaurant with just a few minutes remaining before you had to make it inside for your dinner reservation.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure I look okay,” You tell him, adjusting the strands of hair framing your face. Your shoulders slump in defeat as you continue, “I don’t feel okay.”
Matt raises his eyebrow as he asks, “Why?”
“I rushed to get ready before you picked me up, so my makeup is all messy, and my outfit looks silly, and—”
“No, it doesn’t,” Matt interrupts your rambling, a gentle smile creeping onto his face as he gazes at you from the driver's seat. “I think you look pretty. Really pretty,” You side eye him sceptically, but Matt chuckles, his teeth gently biting down on his bottom lip as he widens his smile. “No, seriously, I mean it… you look beautiful.”
Your head turns towards him and your heart swells at his compliment. The adoration and affection reflected in Matt’s eyes is enough to make you a little overwhelmed and without hesitation, you lean over the console and cup his face, pressing your lips against his.
Matt’s surprised exclamation is muffled by the kiss, caught off guard as he didn’t expect you to kiss him so suddenly, but he allows himself to melt into your touch. His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he closes his eyes, tilting his head to deepen the kiss with more love and urgency.
Every kiss you share with Matt feels like the first, sweet and tender. His lips on yours leaves you feeling dizzy as if you’re intoxicated, and you yearn for more, yet it never escalates beyond heavy make-out sessions with wandering hands that fail to explore beneath the clothes.
Surprisingly, you don’t really mind. You didn’t want to push or rush into something that might ruin what you have with Matt. The relationship is still new, having only become official a few weeks ago, so there’s no need to rush into anything… However, there are moments when you crave for him. Badly.
As always, you’re the one to break away from the kiss and an amused chuckle leaves you as Matt follows your lips, his own still puckered and waiting for you to return. Giving him one quick kiss, you suggest that it’s probably best for you both to go wait inside, unfastening your seatbelt and preparing to leave until Matt’s voice echoes throughout the vehicle.
“Wait!”
His raised tone startles you and you jump as his hand extends out, firmly grasping your wrist to prevent you from opening the car door. Your movements freeze, and you gaze at him with concern swimming in your eyes, unsure of what’s happening and why he’s reacting in such a certain way.
You notice the pink hue tinting his cheeks and the flush that spreads across his neck, chest rising and falling rapidly with each heavy breath he takes. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of what, and under different circumstances, the sight would’ve been hilarious. However, you were too worried about his sudden outburst to laugh.
Matt struggles to form a coherent sentence, and the grip his fingers have on your wrist tightens as he lowers his head to look down at his lap. Your gaze follows, and your eyes widen when you see the obvious tent in his pants.
Your hand rips free out of Matt’s grip as you slap it over your mouth, trying to stifle your laughter which makes Matt’s cheeks grow even more red.
“Wa—wait, I just—It’s like—” Matt stammers, his hands flailing in the air in a panicked manner before he hastily grabs the hem of his shirt, tugging it down to cover the bulge, avoiding direct eye contact with you. “Shut up. Stop. I have no control over that—”
“Matt, it’s okay.” You reassure him as your hand drops from your mouth, unable to hide the smile on your face. Truthfully, you’re a little flattered that a simple kiss can make Matt react like that. It boosts your ego immensely, and the thoughts that run through your mind are wild.
He continues to act embarrassed, tugging his shirt down further to hide himself but the friction of the shirt rubbing over the material of his jeans makes him tense up, eyes widening as a stifled grunt seeps past his lips.
“Matt…” You call out his name and his head turns to finally meet your eyes. You feel confident, maybe too confident as you say your next words, “Do you want me to help you?"
“Help me?” He repeats, blinking at you. “What do you—Oh. Wait. No. I swear, it’s fine. Just give me a few minutes and it’ll—oh shit.”
Matt curses, hissing through his teeth as you decide to bravely place your hand on his upper thigh, squeezing the skin beneath your fingers as you lean in closer to him, the centre console digging into the stomach. His gaze flicks between your hand and you advancing towards him, unsure on where to look until your nose is barely brushing against his own.
He swallows thickly at that look on your face, silently asking him the same question again and he struggles to find his voice, bobbing his head slowly in a short nod. He lets go of his shirt, dropping his hands to his side limply as he watches you work the button of his jeans, popping them open and pulling down the zipper before your hand dips beneath the waistband, cupping his through his boxers.
Matt exhales deeply, body relaxing into the driver's seat as he observes your actions with half-lidded eyes, bottom lip tucked between his teeth and fists clenching at his side.
You’re giddy as you free his cock from his boxers, the sheer size of them sending a thrilling buzz to your cunt and you meet his eyes with a surprised grin.
“What?” His voice is quiet as he questions, “What’s wrong?”
“You’re big, Matt.”
Matt’s tongue prods at his cheek, trying to fight off the urge to smile at your compliment as his chin tucks into his chest, unable to look you in the eyes. His cheeks grow warm with a slight pink hue, but his mouth drops open with a sharp intake of breath as you slowly wrap your fingers around him the best you can.
Your lips hover above his cock, letting a wad of spit sit at the tip and using your thumb to smear it over the slit and head of his cock, causing his hips to jerk upwards.
The sound of him whispering curses through airy gasps and grunts is enough to urge you downwards, taking his tip into your mouth, letting it lay on your tongue for an experimental taste before pushing your head further down, taking his cock into your throat and swallowing around him.
“Oh my go—fuck.” Matt suddenly whimpers loudly, pressing his fist to his mouth and biting down on his skin, nervous eyes glancing around the restaurant's parking lot to see if anyone was lingering around outside.
He was thankful to have brought you both out near nightfall, but he was even more thankful that he had decided to park a few spaces away from the building itself, tucked away beneath a tree and barely any street lights
You struggle not to smile at the effect you have on him as your bob your head, exaggeratingly moaning to send vibrations down his cock and again, his hips jerk upwards at the sensation, and a guttural sound rips from the back of your throat as he accidentally chokes you with his sudden movements.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” He repeatedly apologises to you, his hand coming down to affectionately smooth the back of your head, ringed fingers getting tangled in your hair and he tugs without realising when you hollow your cheeks around him, the burn on your scalp sending a shiver down your spine.
“Does it feel good?” You ask him once you take your mouth off of him to breathe, using your hand to continue jerking him off as you gaze up at him.
Matt struggles to keep his eyes open as he nods, untangling his fingers out of his hair to press his palm on your cheek, putting at your bottom lip and you lay a gentle kiss on the pad of his thumb.
Matt smiles giddily at that, head lolling to the side and resting against the fogged up windows, breathing unsteady as he continues watching.
It completely erased from your mind that you’re currently giving Matt head in a public parking lot until you hear a distant car horn in the background, and usually, under any different circumstance, you would have stopped everything and asked to be driven away out of pure embarrassment from possibly getting caught.
But seeing the blissful look on Matt’s face, and how strangely nice it feels to have him in your throat, tasting him on your tongue, you don’t care.
You almost wouldn’t mind if anyone walked by and caught the two of you in this position.
“I think I’m gonna cum soon,” Matt breathes out heavily before his eyes widen. “Yeah, no—shit—you’re definitely gonna make me cum.”
“That’s okay.” You coo softly, giving him the sweetest smile before you swallow around him once again, tightening your throat around his cock and he grunts, his hand resuming its position on the top of your head again.
“Where do you want me to cum, sweetheart?” The pet name sends you spiralling and your cunt clenches around nothing, arousal building in the pit of your stomach.
You move your head faster, working at a pace that has his thighs shaking. His cock fucks your throat raw and you can breifly hear him calling out your name, tugging at your hair slightly to get your attention and pull you off of him, but you resist and shove your head down further, the tip of your nose touching his navel.
“Fuck… do you want me to cum in your mouth?”
You hum around him for confirmation and Matt whines under his breath, voicing ‘you’re so hot’ as his hand falls from the top of your head to your free hand that’s resting on his knee for balance.
His fingers thread through your own, intertwining them tightly, thumb caressing over your knuckles in small circles, and the second you squeeze his hand back, to let him know that you’ve got him, he cums in thick spurts down your throat with a moan.
Matt’s thighs trembling beneath you, but you take no notice, too busy making sure you’ve swallowed every drop he’s giving you, sucking him dry until he’s physically unable to give you anymore and is begging for you to release him, too sensitive to continue.
His cock falls from your mouth with a wet plop and you sit up in your seat, taking a quick glance in the sun visor mirror like you had done earlier before, and you stifle a laugh at how you’ve definitely ruined your makeup this time.
You reach for your purse and open it up, grabbing a few facial makeup wipes that you carry with you and try to clean yourself up as best as you possibly can, even though there was no use.
Matt is panting heavily beside you, body twitching as he comes down from his high and he runs his fingers through his hair as he tries to regulate his breathing before he’s tucking his flaccid cock back into his boxers.
He’s buttoning up his jeans, casting you a glance as he pulls up the zipper, watching as you finish completely wiping the smudged lipstick off of your lips and dabbing the mascara excess under your eyes.
“I think we missed our dinner reservation by the way,” You joke, a chuckle leaving your lips as you grab your phone to check the time. You did miss it. “Sorry.”
“That’s a shame,” Matt says, his voice dipping low. “I’m still hungry.”
You feel a little guilty, “We can go get takeout—”
“No. Not for that,” Matt immediately shakes his head and you turn to look at him. “I’m hungry for something else. Something better.”
“Better?” You repeat, raising your eyebrow suggestively as you lean back into your seat, crossing your arms over your chest as the corner of your lips threaten to curl up into a smirk. “And what would that be?”
“You.”
© sturnioz
#©sturnioz#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo fluff#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo#sturniolo triplets x reader#sturniolo triplets smut
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⭐️Yandere Husband x reader⭐️
Premise: Your husband really wants kids, but you're not really all for the idea
Warning: Noncon, breeding, fem reader
Minors DNI
You prepared a cute little basket with bread, some homemade jam and a couple of sandwiches along with a delicious strawberry cake you baked just for today! You look up at the playground from where you're sitting, the breeze feeling just right. It's a beautiful day out. Kids playing, people walking their dogs, couples like yourself picnicking. You and your husband have been together for three years and married one. He's the sweetest man in the world and you couldn't feel luckier to be with him. Your mother introduced him to you. He was her close friend's son. His mother and yours just so happen to go to the same knitting class. Although his mother was of a higher class, your mother and his had a lot in common and hit it off right away. Your mother would have buried you six feet deep if you refused to see him, not that you would've. He's handsome, sweet and has a well-paying job. Of course, that's the side of him that he allows you to see.
He begged his mom to introduce you after he saw you sitting on your porch one day when he was picking his mother up from your house. You waved at him and smiled. His heart was about to pop out of his chest. Your beauty was nothing he'd ever even imagined before. Everything about you is perfect. Everything. He asked his mother about you as soon as he drove off. She was more than happy to tell him. She's quite fond of you and would choose you as a daughter-in-law over anyone else. She couldn't be happier that her beloved first son has shown interest in a jewel like you.
He couldn't help but fall even deeper in love when he got to meet with you. Your voice rings bells in his heart and your eyes speak to his soul. He knew from then on that you were made for each other. He would never admit it, but he's absolutely obsessed with you. He would prefer to say that he's in love with you. Dating was smooth. He quickly proposed as soon as an appropriate amount of time passed. It couldn't come soon enough to him. You're so sweet and understanding. So thoughtful and intelligent. You share interests and when you don't, you make the effort to try. So does he, of course. You're so perfect.
Once married, he was happy to go to work and come back to your loving embrace. He'd rather die than have you support yourself. Anything you want, anything you need is yours. You don't even have to ask, your husband is very observant. You might mention something in passing that he'll overhear. Something small, something you didn't even put a lot of focus into, but he'll remember. He'll remember and he'll get it for you as soon as possible. He'd do anything...and that means anything. If anyone made you cry, he'd comfort you...before beating them unconscious. Getting his hands dirty is a small price to pay for you. But dear god, if anyone dared to lay a finger on you... well...consider them gone. Consider them erased actually. Consider the fact that they won't be bothering anyone ever again. Consider people closely associated with them being severely injured.
He's a ray of sunshine. You love him and he loves you. He loves you very much. You've never had any serious arguments. The two of you got along so well that there weren't any disagreements, but there were, he'd just fold and let it go. The only problem is that now that you're married, he wants kids, but you're not ready. You've never been very good with kids. They make you anxious. The sticky fingers, their delicate little heads, the fact that they could become psychopaths if you don't raise them properly. Not to mention how expensive and time-consuming they are. You spend all that time and energy on them and get almost nothing in return. Don't even get you started on the effects it'll have on your body.
There's just too much that could go wrong and besides, you just font feel like you're mature enough to have a kid of your own when you still feel like one yourself. You're not ready to raise a human being. There's so much you want to do, want to explore and you can't do that with a baby. Your husband on the other hand is great with them. He's the eldest brother of six so he's used to taking care of kids. At birthday parties, you can find him carrying three kids at a time, one over his shoulders and two in his arms, even the older ones, which doesn't surprise you because he's built big and strong. Must've eaten his vegetables when he was a kid, you snicker, inwardly. Your husband pokes you every time he sees a cute video of a baby on his phone like a boy asking his parents for a puppy. "Just watch! Aren't they cute!? (Yyyy/nnnn)!" He sticks his phone in your face and makes you watch a bunch of videos. He has a severe case of baby fever.
You look over at your fiance. He's looking out at the swing set with a dreamy look on his face. A little boy is pushing his younger sister and they look like they're having a blast. You cringe, knowing your husband is gonna bring up the baby talk again when you get home. Just then, you feel a light tug on your dress and look over to see a little girl around the age of 4, wobbling on her feet, looking up at you. You at least try to be good with kids. "Hey, what are you doing?" You laugh nervously. You know you're in for it now. You can feel your husband's intense gaze on the back of your neck.
"...Mama said that if I'm good, I can have cake. I was good today, so can I have some,...please?" You look up to see a woman face palming and yelling at her daughter to come back and stop bothering the nice lady. You smile at her mother, letting her know it's okay. "Well you asked so very nicely, how can I say no?" You cut a small slice and plate it for her. You give her the plate, but she just looks up at you with puppy dog eyes. "I...I always let Mama feed me," she says as fiddles with her fingers nervously. So adorable. You look up at her mother, who seems to be busy dealing with one of her other kids and decide to give her a break. Although this is breaching your comfort zone, you just can't say no to that face.
You pick up a fork and begin feeding her. You just know your fiance has the most love-struck look on his face, if you were looking at him, you'd be able to see big hearts in his eyes. You peek over at him to see just that and roll your eyes. "Mm so yummy! Thank you miss!" She gets on her tippy toes and kisses you on the cheek. You must admit that was adorable, but your opinion remains firm. No kids. No way. You still have plenty more reasons not to have any so cuteness is not enough to sway you. The little girl waddles away back to her mom. You don't want to turn around. You sigh and look at your husband to see he is still swooning.
"Oh my god! That was beautiful. You be such a good mom!" He coos. You groan. "We talked about this so many times, honey. You know how I feel about kids," you pout, folding your arms. You could've sworn you saw his eyebrow twitch like he was upset. "You'd be great, I believe in you. I just know it," he beams. Oh, he's not mad. Must've been your imagination. You roll your eyes. He didn't listen to a word you said though. You love him so much, but he's a brick wall when it comes to things like this. He's been on your ass quite literally about kids ever since you got married. "I need more time," you say, looking away from his pouting face. He was a bit gloomy for the rest of your outing after that. Last night, you misplaced your birth control pack. You were worried about it, but you just brushed it off and decided to take two the next night when you do find them.
Soon, your picnic comes to an end and you head home. He's on you as soon as you shut the door, kissing you passionately. You return the gesture, hugging him close. "Don't take your birth control tonight," he whispers huskily in your ear. You stop and push his chest. He takes a step back and looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed. "We literally just talked about this! Respect that I don't want any dumb kids!" You shout. You expect him to apologize, to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness like he always does when he's in the wrong. Then he'd go and get you flowers, and cook for you, but this time, he looks down at you rage evident in his expression. He looks really pissed. You shrink in your spot. What?
"You're being ridiculous, (y/n)! It's time for you to grow up! You're old enough to be a responsible mother so stop acting like a child. I can support the both of you easily. You don't have to lift a fucking finger, just have my child already. I've been so fucking patient with you. My mother and yours have been asking us where their grandchild is. What the fuck do I tell them? I'm wondering too! I've been waiting for you to change your mind and be reasonable, but you're really getting on my nerves now," he grits his teeth as he finishes his sentence. Each sentence felt like a stab to your heart. He's never said such cruel words to you or even cruel words in general before. Your husband hasn't so much as insulted you. You never could've imagined your husband had this side to him.
He gripped your arm and began dragging you upstairs. "Hey! S-Stop! Stop it!" You cry, holding onto the stair rail. He looks back at you. That was the last fucking straw. You hear a loud clap and your head turned. Huh? Your cheek stings? Tears begin to well in your eyes as you hold your reddening cheek. He takes the time to pull you the rest of the way up and into the bedroom. He sets you on the bed and locks the door, taking his clothes off right there, his well-built figure casting a shadow over you. You begin sobbing in your place on the bed, covering your face with your hands. He walks over and gently hugs you, rubbing your back. You push at him, but he keeps you still pressed to his body. "Stop that," he whispers in your ear. His voice is commanding yet gentle, but you ignore him and continue fighting his hold. "That's it. I'm so tired of you acting like this. It's time you give me what I deserve, a family." He grips your dress and violently rips it off you, leaving you in your bra and panties. You've had sex before, but never like this. This is the first time your eyes held fear while looking at your husband.
He shoves you back onto the bed, climbing over you and trapping you beneath him, smiling. He traces a finger from your collar to the center of your bra, where it stills before ripping it off you. You know better than to scream so you whimper as he throws it to the side. He places a hand over your breast, squeezing it painfully. You grab his wrist, trying to pry it off. "You are gonna be a great mommy. Can't wait to watch these fill up with milk." His face takes on that dreamy look again. "Seeing you today in the park confirmed it. You're more than ready." You feel his cock rubbing your thigh. He yanks your panties down your legs, tossing them into the forgotten corner with his clothes and yours. With his other hand and rubs your pussy. You whine and struggle under him, but you know you're no match for him. He spreads your thighs open and lodges himself between them, his cock rubbing up and down your fold, taunting you. "I love you...so much," he says before slowly entering you. You are NOT having a fucking baby. You'll take your birth control and that'll be that. He smiles down at you, knowing what you're thinking and bucks his hips. He laughs like he knows something you don't, but the idea is completely lost on you.
He bottoms out, moaning as he does. He rubs the bulge in your stomach lovingly. "I want a big family, honey. Make me a daddy. Let me breed you," he says, rutting into you. Even though he's being so rough, it feels so damn good. He picks up your thighs and pressed them down beside your head, squishing your cervix with his cock. Your tongue rolls out your mouth as your eyes roll into the back of your skull. He kisses your neck and cheeks, giving you soft praise. "I knew you'd be good for me. Such a good little wife and soon to be mommy. You're gonna look so cute stuffed with our baby. God, I fucking love you," he chants as he rams into you again and again, your brain is far too clouded by the feeling of him spearing your guts to understand him.
You dig your nails into his back as continues bruising your poor cervix. You let out a choked whine. "It's ok, honey, you can cum. I'll allow it." As if on command, you do. He kisses your lips passionately, quickening his pace. Moans leave your mouth each time he pounds into you, the air and sound being forced from your lungs each time on impact.
His fists curled in the sheets, his eyes clenching. He slams his hips to yours, your body being forced farther before he grabs your hips and forces you back. He grunts as he cums deep inside you, your stomach filling to the brim with his seed. He sighs and kisses your cheek. You breathe heavily, waiting for him to get off, but he doesn't. He just starts going again like he didn't just fill your guts up.
"W-Whah?" You whine. "I need to make sure my seed takes, darling. We'll be doing this until I say we're done so don't complain now." You can tell by his tone that he's daring you to try something. You just clench your eyes and keep taking him. You're so bloated with cum. He's never been like this before, always stopping when you wanted to and treating you like porcelain. Now he's grabbing you and fucking into you like he's been holding back for years, which you now think he has. Your eyelids begin drooping after the sixth time he forced you to cum. You can't keep them open and he notices. "It's ok, take a nap. Warning, I'm not stopping. I guess I tired you out," he laughs.
You wake up to him hugging your back, spooning you. You look at your alarm clock. It's been hours and judging from the still-wet cum all over your thighs, he only stopped recently. You slowly and very carefully slip out of his hold and off the bed. You feel a soreness like never before in your stomach and almost fall to the floor. Oh god, your uterus. More cum slips out of you as you walk to your vanity. You open a couple of drawers where you think your birth control might be, but it's not there. Where could it be if not in your vanity!? You look around frantically, but you still can't find them! You begin looking everywhere. You check the bathroom cupboard, opening it slowly so it doesn't creak and wake up your crazy husband. It's not in there! You look down to see the crumpled package in the trash. You pick it up to see it empty. Every single slot, even the pink period pills. You begin tearing up as you see there are tiny white specs by the sink. No! He washed them away! How could he!? You clutch the sink as you stare at the empty package. You feel a presence creep up behind you. You look up in the mirror to see your husband right behind you, looking down at you with disdain.
"I knew you were going to take them after I told you not to so I got rid of them last night." He planned this!? "Let's go back to bed...Common," he says tiredly and grabs your arm, forcing you back into bed with him, your back to his chest. You feel his cock harden and you try to inch away, but he grabs your hips and rubs his cock up and down your folds before jamming it inside you until he bottoms out. You whimper with your hands over your mouth, knowing that if you annoyed him while he was tired, you'd get in real trouble. He lazily humps into you, rubbing your bulging tummy from behind you, his lips kissing your head. You pass out later from exhaustion.
You wake up to find him not in bed. You take the chance to get up and throw on a sweatshirt and sweats. You grab your wallet and sprint out of the room and down the stairs, ignoring the painful limp he gave you and the soreness in your poor tummy. Your wrist is caught mid-air..." Where the fuck do you think you're going, honey?" He asks, his sweet smile contrasting the bone-crushing grip he has your wrist in.
"O-Oh! Um...we...need-" He cuts you off in the middle of your lie, yanking your wrist and forcing you closer to him. "You were going to go kill our baby." You've never seen such darkness in his eyes. "Well, you can't. I won't allow it. The doors have new locks just for you, love. You're not going anywhere." He smiles down at you, that same handsome face you love, but now come to fear. You gulp as he leads you into the kitchen where he prepared a beautiful breakfast.
You soon accept what's to happen. Your husband is a loved man. Loved by all. His family, your family, his job, the community, everyone. Your husband is often described as charismatic, funny, helpful and friendly. If you told anyone of them what he's done to you, they'd call you a liar without hesitation or even better, take his side, agreeing that it's time you give him a child because it's your duty as his wife to do at least that for him. Be a little grateful for all he does. Providing for you and taking care of you. You'd rather keep your mouth shut. Nothing good can come of telling anyone. It only took a few days of brutal fucking till you woke up early in the morning feeling nauseous and ran to the bathroom, him hot on your tail, ready to hold your hair back as you emptied your stomach into the toilet. You sob as you hug your knees on the bathroom floor. He got on the floor with you, wiping your tears with his thumbs and holding your face. He smiles wide and hugs you tightly. "Yes! (Y/n)! I'm so proud of you! We're having a baby! I love you!"
Yandere husband with pregnant reader head cannons:
- You're allowed out of the house after a while of proving your obedience! Hooray! With the exception that he has to be there, of course. A man flirted with you a bit while you were shopping and your husband was within earshot. You still cringe when you remember the sound the man's nose made as your husband punched him. It took three security guards to get him off the guy.
- Your husband makes you eat so much! "Sit down and finish your food. You're eating for two, remember!? Or did you forget?"
- Paints the baby's room with non-toxic paint and will not let you help or hold anything. "No, it's too dangerous, (Y/n). Sit back down, I've got this, ok?"
- Spares no expense for you and the baby. Buys everything people recommend to him
- Watches youtube videos for things he needs to watch out for during your pregnancy
- Does pregnancy stretches with you and won't take no for an answer. "It's good for you and the baby so get to it! I'll do them with you so we look silly together!" You both still have a fun time.
- You once dropped a book on the floor and your husband burst through the wall to get to you, leaving a cartoon cutout of himself and all. "WHATHAPPENDAREYOUOK!?" He shouted all in one breath. You assured him that you were just fine and that you'd only dropped a book, but he still cradled you in his arms crying.
- Cooks all your meals and cuddles you every single night.
- You being pregnant does not mean he stops fucking you, no. He's just a lot more gentle with you.
- Has everything about your pregnancy and birth planned to the exact detail, even when you'll have the next one.
- He rubs his face against your tummy and kisses it, singing to the baby.
- Do you need to get up? "Here, take my arm...actually...I'll hold you!"
- He picks up the phone on the first ring...and you better too or he's racing home.
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Is it a Wonder I Broke?
Batfamily x Neglected! Reader
Author's note: I really did NAWT want to write a two parter but hey, I should have expected it with how much I write. I am so new to writing angst but I've had a thirst for writing and reading angst lately and I just NEEDED to cure it!!! ENJOY
Warnings: The Bats being kinda shitty, Neglect
Part 1 // Part 3
---
Damian was sure something was missing. He woke up that day and as he had breakfast, he had noticed something odd about Alfred. There was a certain sadness in his eyes that Damian couldn't place. None of them had gotten injured in last night's patrol. Jason's deathaversary (as he loved to call it) wasn't near. No one had fought, quite the contrary, he'd say this has got to be one of the weeks where they had best behaved and gotten along. Even Bruce and Jason were relaxed. So what plagued the man? Damian looked around the house and wondered what could be the problem. Maybe he was tired? Or Sick? That could be it. Sensing the young man's gaze on him, Alfred erased all emotion from his face and looked at Damian questioning.
"May I help you with something, Master Damian?" he asked with a raised brow. Damian inspected him thoroughly and hummed.
"You are different, Pennyworth" observed Damian and the butler gave the boy a deadpan. Nop, he's good, never mind. Maybe he was just thinking something unpleasant and it showed in his face.
And yet, the feeling didn't leave Damian. There was something odd in the house. Thankfully, it was Saturday, so he had the rest of the day to walk around and investigate. He had visited the gardens, and overseen the entirety of the first and second floor, yet nothing came to mind. What the fuck was wrong in this damn house?
He had decided to empty his mind in the art room. There, he spent the rest of his afternoon sketching a portrait of some plants he had seen in the garden. His 16th birthday was soon approaching and he really needed to get some new art supplies. The ones he had were old and very worn out. As he finished, he noticed the time and realized he had spent the majority of the day in the art room. He had gone to clean his hands and headed to the cave to suit up, hoping tonight's patrol would clear his head. What was missing?
So into his thoughts, Damian hadn't noticed the rest of his siblings down at the cave suiting up as well.
"Hey, Littlewing! What's got you looking so constipated?" Asked Dick with a hint of humor in his tone.
"Have any of you noticed that the manor feels rather odd?" he questions as he suits his boots up.
"What do you mean, bat brat?" Asked Jason raising his eyebrow.
"The manor, it feels….odd. As if something is missing. It feels emptier and I can't help but ask why. Not only that, have any of you noticed Pennyworth looking….strange lately?" He questioned and the group fell into silence, all thinking of his observation.
"Now that you mention it, Alfred has been looking a little tired lately. Like, you know, as if his age is kinda showing." Tim recounted
"And he has had this sort of sad glaze in his eyes" Steph added.
"It's not my deathaversery, I can assure you that" hummed Jason.
"And no other impacting date is near, so what could have caused him any sort of discomfort?" Asked Dick.
The group looked at each other, clueless about what could have caused their beloved butler and grandfather to feel odd.
"You don't think he might be sick and is hiding that from us?" Asked Duke
"But why would he be sad about that?" Barbara question.
Plagued with the heaviness of confusion, none of them noticed the patriarch of the family arrive all suited up and looking at them.
"Is everyone ready?" sounded Bruce's deep voice snapping everyone out of their thoughts. They all nodded still a little bit distant and lost. Bruce, not wanting to push his kids, nodded and clapped his hands to gain their full attention. "Tonight we have a slow night as it seems. Everyone has their patrol route, let's hope that we can be already finished by 2. Everyone, dispatch.
It was a relatively slow night. So much so, that it had allowed them to goof around a little as they went on. Midnight had arrived and Damian was crouched next to his father as they overlooked the city. He could hear Jason, Stephanie, and Dick joking around in the back and smiled a little as they laughed. That's when he felt it. The lingering gaze in the shadows. Surely, he looked up to his father who had felt it as well.
His mother.
After years of being separated from her and getting only a handful of visits, he had gotten used to her gaze when she was lingering, watching him. He knew it was her. Damian stood up and turned towards his left and there he saw her. Black, gold, and green armor shining in the night. The sudden silence told him that his siblings were on high alert as well. What could Talia want?
She finally noticed their gaze on her and began running. This alerted every one of them.
"Oracle, send Red Robin and Orphan our coordinates. We encountered Talia Al Ghul and are on the move." Ordered Batman
"Copy that, B." Answered Barbara in their comns.
What did the League of Assassins want now? If they meant no harm, she wouldn't have run, so what happened?
They followed Talia as she led them farther from the city and closer to the harbor. As they went, he noticed that more assassins made themselves visible and surrounded them and that alone raised his suspicions even more. Normally, when his mother wanted to talk to him, she came alone. Why were they here?
Finally, she stopped in front of a boat…the same one where I met my father…WITH Y/N. Damian came to a sudden halt. That is what was missing! He tries to think back on the past few weeks and he couldn't conjure up the slightest memory of seeing his sister. As a matter of fact, he hadn't seen her in the past few months…Where was Y/n? Was that why Pennyworth looked distressed? Why did he just notice now?! Had he been so busy that he couldn't recall his sister? No….that's imposible. She probably has been in practice. She was busy with her own life as well. Especially now, that it was getting closer to the Ice Skating National Competition. He had been keeping tabs on her competition schedules. Yeah, that was probably it. Any time a competition got closer, she would either be locked in their home rink or her practice rink making sure it was perfect. Yeah, that had to be it. She probably left early, was busy in practice, and came during the time he was in the art room or getting ready. Damian wanted to believe that..he really did, but something was nagging at him in the back of his mind. Why would Alfred be sad at that? Had she gotten hurt in practice? Ice skating meant the world for Y/n so that was probably it. Alfred adored watching her skate. Per Damian's request, he would record her practices and competitions so that once he got back from a mission and patrol, he could watch her. She was truly wonderful. That could have been it. She got hurt before Nationals and had been resting in her room lately. That could be why Damian had not seen much of her in the last few weeks. Before that, he had stayed a few months with the Titans, so that could also explain the lack of memories in the past year o so. That was the logical conclusion, right? But if she was hurt, why did Pennyworth not mention anything? He would have to ask him when he arrived later because now he was concerned for his sister's health.
He looked forward and realized that all of them had stopped further. He ran and reached his father's side. Observing his surroundings, he noted that there were 10 or so assassins on both of their sides. Why would his mother need so many?
"Ah, Damian, finally, you are here," Talia spoke up with her back to them. If she was a threat, she wouldn't be giving them her back. Ras taught them better than that.
"What are you here for, Talia?" questioned Bruce.
"Well. Beloved, I have come to extend an invitation, per my daughter's request" She smiled turning around to look at them fully, "I had to lure all of you out here so that we could settle this private matter without the sounds of the city." she explained.
"My sister is resting back in the manor, Mother, what could you mean?" Damian questioned narrowing his eyes at her.
"Is that what you all believe, my dear?" She smirked and watched each of their reactions one by one.
"Where is our daughter, Talia?" Asked Bruce slowly
"You mean to tell me that MY daughter was left under your care and you have no clue where she is?" asked Talia, venom slipping into her words. "Is that what you are letting me know, Batman?"
"Our daughter is safe in the manor" Bruce answered. Damian looked at him and if he wasn't doubtful himself, he probably would have believed him.
"Well, that's not entirely true, beloved. Y/n has not been living in the manor for almost two years now." Talia corrected and everyone froze. "Can't believe you would lie to my face like that"
Jason, Dick, Tim, Stephanie, and Cassandra looked at Bruce expetantly. Surely what Talia said can't be true. They all take a moment to digest the information. Y/n was in the manor, right?
Tim tried to look back but he couldn't think of a moment he had seen her. He lived in the manor as well for fuck's sake. Had he been too busy with Wayne Enterprises and Red Robin that he hadn't noticed his sister's absence? Then again, Y/n was always training so it was difficult to tell….or was it?
Dick and Jason looked at each other. They didn't live in the manor anymore but surely, they had seen her at dinners. Y/n rarely spoke up so she could have been there but they just didn't notice? But as far as they can remember, Y/n loved to talk about her competitions in the hope that they would be able to go to one. They thought she had finally given up on asking them….and that left a bitter taste in their mouths. Why had she all of a sudden gone silent?….or was she just not there at all?
Cassandra had noticed what Damian had said earlier. The Manor had felt different. It seemed as if one presence was lacking but she was constantly with Stephanie so it was rather difficult to keep up on the whereabouts of her life. Besides, Y/n was always training…
Bruce stiffened. Where..was..his..daughter? Since when had she not been living in the manor? When did that happen? He had noticed that Alfred had gone out less and figured Y/n began transporting herself to her things, but that was odd because the old man loved taking her. It was the one moment where Bruce could tell he had peace. Y/n had always been such an independent child from a young age. She didn't need the same training as Damian because she abandoned that life once she was in Gotham. He was truly so glad that she wouldn't follow in his footsteps, that she had chosen to be normal. When was the last time he had seen her come to dinner? When was the last time he heard her songs blasting from her room? When was the last time she used her rink? He would always watch footage of her through Alfred's recordings and the security cameras installed in the ice rink. He still remembers the day he surprised her with it. "I didn't think you'd even know" she whispered thinking he hadn't heard, but he did and those words had plagued his mind ever since then like a broken record. Why wouldn't he know? Sure they were all busy but they cared for her.
"Oracle, search footage of all of the security cameras in the past two years. Find anything and everything about Y/n."
"Right on that, B."
"What invitation does Y/n have for us, mother?" Asked Damian, unsure whether or not he wanted to hear the answer.
"To her coronation as the new Heir to the Demon Head and Future Leader of the League of Assassins, of course" She answered almost instantly.
.
..
…
"WHAT!" yelled Damian. Everyone felt their blood run cold, "My sister, my beloved twin sister, would never NEVER desire that. You must not be serious! Y/n Wayne Al Ghul has never EVER wanted to be like grandfather. She is better than that. She is too good for the Demon Head. I was the one trained to be the heir an-"
"And you weren't the only one trained. Have you forgotten that both of you endured the same training and whilst your grandfather disciplined you, I was disciplining her." interrupted his mother harshly. "Y/n moved back to the League a year and a half ago and has been training endlessly to become the next Leader of the League, Damian. You would have all known that had you chosen to not neglect my daughter. She is safe and well-"
"My sister will NEVER be happy-"
"Because you know her oh so very well, my son?" Talia let her gaze linger on her son. Her disappointment was palpable. He had failed to be there for his twin….
"Nightwing, Red Hood, do one last round on the city, then head to the cave. The rest of you, you are dismissed. Head straight to the came, now. Especially, you, Damian. I have to speak with your mother first." Batman's left no space for argument. They all nodded and left, aside from Damian.
"Father-"
"Go, Robin"
"Father, this is just my problem as it is yours"
"To the cave, now. We will discuss this later."
Damian wasn't happy with the outcome, but one look at his mother and father; and he knew he wouldn't want to be part of this discussion when he had many important matters to attend to.
Once Damian left, Bruce turned to Talia.
"Tal-"
"You neglected my daughter-"
"Our-"
"MY daughter. You spent six years ignoring one child and favoring the other and you THINK you can make demands and look at me as if I have done something wrong? I went to her practices, I went to her competitions, I visited on their birthday every. fucking. Year. Bruce, I may not be the example of motherhood, but at least I was as present as I could be and I didn't even live with her." She hissed at him coldly.
"This is different, she wanted to be a professional ice skater. I know my daughter well enough to remember that. Damian is right. Becoming the Leader of the League of Assassins will never make her happy-"
"Because you know her so well? Bruce, I believe in what Y/n can bring to the League. She has astounding potential as a leader. She is levelheaded and diplomatic, she understands my father's ideal and vision without a vengeful eye. Unless you intend to be supportive…Do not cross her path. I came here to extend the invitation per her request as cordiality, not because I planned to. It will be a week after her birthday. I will not repeat myself. Farewell, Batman"
"Talia" Bruce tried, but she was already gone.
---
Author's note: Well fuck it's gonna be three chapters. I swear, part three will BE THE LAST ONE!!! I SWEAR!!! I HAVE ANOTHER ONE SHOT THAT I WANNA WRITE DAMN
#batfamily#tim drake#dick grayson#jason todd#batman#batfam#cassandra cain#alfred pennyworth#stephanie brown#damian wayne#bruce wayne#dick grayson x you#batfamily x reader angst#bruce wayne x reader fic recs#damian wayne x reader#dick grayson x reader#nightwing x reader#jason todd x reader#x reader#batfamily x you#batfamily x reader#batfamily x neglected reader#batfamily x batsis!reader#batfamily angst#damian wayne x female reader#damian wayne x y/n#damian wayne x twin! sister#bruce wayne x daughter!reader#bruce wayne x fem!reader#bruce wayne x reader
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Day 24 for @steddie-spooktober, Pumpkin. I'll just finish this hellish month and then write all the good Halloween-y stuff when people already look forward to Christmas. There.
"Oh my god. That's Eddie Munson!"
Steve's eyebrow did that treacherous twitch. Here we fucking go again.
Robin just snickered. "Oh wow. That's like what, the fifth one today?" She didn't even look sorry for Steve, the traitor! She just kept making the coffee order, creating a lovely heart in the milk foam.
The woman who ordered the coffee didn't even bother to try and whisper to her friend. She was squealing and pointing at the unsuspecting rock star who had earphones over his head. "What do you think he's reading? It must be something dark. He has a reputation, you know."
Another twitch in Steve's eyebrow, but he was a professional. It was fine. He could do his job even when annoyed. Maybe.
Robin flipped the whiteboard with their seasonal specials. The other side revealed a meticulously prepared game of Eddie Munson-themed bingo. "Wanna play, Steve?"
He scowled at the board. All of those were classics, the stupid shit people say when they meet a rock star like Eddie Munson.
He took an erasable marker and scribbled X next to the questions, comments and other atrocities he managed to catch.
I wonder if he'll show me that special tattoo if I ask nicely. Check.
I heard he's unforgettable in bed. Check.
People say he has a...you know. A piercing down there. Check.
I don't believe the rumors. A guy like that can't be taken for long. He was made to sleep around. Check.
I wonder what he's drinking. Probably something dark and bitter. Mmm, how mysterious!
"Bingo!" whispered Robin. "Now, as per the rules of this humble establishment, once we have a bingo, you get to go there and be a bitch. Do your worst, oh platonic soulmate of mine. I'll be watching."
Who was Steve to deny Robin one of her favorite hobbies? He fluffed his hair and re-applied his lip oil, arranged some pastries on a kitten-shaped plate and made his way to Eddie Munson.
Eddie was lost to the world, but there was a familiar pattern in Steve's footsteps, one that reverbated through the wooden floor. In a second, Eddie had dropped his book and gave Steve the widest smile. One that he couldn't even conjure up on stage. This smile was only for Steve, and Steve fucking hoped the women noticed that.
Eddie made grabby hands at him, pulling him down into a quick kiss. "Is your shift over, Stevie? Can we go?"
Steve shook his head. "Nah, two more hours to go. Ish. Are you sure you don't want to wait for me home? You must be tired."
"Tired?! Pffft. I mean, yeah, but I want to spend time ogling my boyfriend when he's at his sexiest - covered in flour and sugar. And speaking of sugar..." He glanced at the plate. "Is that for me?"
Steve laughed and set the plate in front of him. "Honestly? Even if it wasn't, those doe eyes of yours would persuade me in a second. But yeah. It'll be Halloween soon, and I was testing out some spooky cookies. Do you like pumpkins?"
Eddie gasped and clutched his heart. "Do I?!"
Steve kissed Eddie on the top of his head and put his earphones back on. In a few seconds, Eddie was back in his own world, book, music and cookies.
In a corner of his eye, Steve saw the two young women, speechless. Robin was serving them their coffees, giddy with anticipation. She'd prepared them in to-go cups, just in case.
Steve stood in front of them, flipped his hair and smirked. "Well, ladies. You've had many questions or guesses, and I'm happy I can answer them. You know. To give you some peace of mind" He nodded to Robin. "The list, Rob?"
Robin glanced at their bingo board. "I wonder what he's reading!" she read out.
Steve nodded and returned to the frozen guests. "The book to end all books. That's what Eddie calls the...uh. Tolkien bible thingy. Silmarillion." He pronounced it gery carefully. "He reads it to me sometimes, when I can't sleep. Works like a charm." He might have smirked at the blush creeping up the woman's face. "Next."
Robin saluted him. "Special tattoo?"
"He won't show it, I made him promise he'd no longer get arrested for public indecency. Besides, it's only me that gets to see it. Next."
Robin fake gagged. "Is he unforgettable in bed?"
"Sure is. He talks to my chest hair. I think they're a couple."
Robin gagged again. "Why...ladies, get better questions! That piercing down under?"
Steve snickered. "Very real. Very...effective." He sneaked a glance at Eddie. Sexy and charismatic, yes, but more importantly warm, happy and home.
In a sing song voice, Robin got to the next point. "Is he really taken?"
"Take a guess," Steve winked at them. Or at least tried to, because the customers were already halfway out of the door with their coffee cups, and a very generous tip left on the counter.
"Aw," muttered Robin. "Shame, I thought these two would last longer. It's been ages since someone lasted the full Munson reverse bingo."
Steve laughed and helped her clean the table. "Would a pumpkin cookie console you?"
"Only if I don't have to hear about your bedroom rituals ever again," she said and reached for a cookie. "Or at least until the end of the shift."
#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#steddie#steddie drabble#steddie au#robin buckley#steddie ficlet#steddie spooktober
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❝FIDELITY❞ |part10
MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank
Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.
Warnings: mentioning miscarriage, mentioning abortion, kind of depression, pregnancy symptoms, pregnancy cramps, mentioning blood, mentioning losing someone, daddy issues, mentioning violence.
Selly’s note: I cried while writing this. Sorry not sorry.
previous - next
Everything that happened was terrifying. Waiting for the ambulance while covered in blood, the fear of not knowing what would happen—it left you feeling like you wouldn’t be able to shake it off for a while.
You were trying to piece your life back together. The loneliness here, the ever-present ache in your heart, had never really left you. Rafe wanting you to go through with the abortion, the struggle to embrace the idea of motherhood, knowing you’d have to do it alone, the hormones—everything about that time had been suffocatingly stressful.
Moments where you felt normal were rare. You couldn’t even remember if there were any times you truly enjoyed this pregnancy. It was just stress. Always stress.
You waited, you hoped for the stress to pass. You longed for a time when you’d leave it behind and start building better memories. But all that remained was the stress. And then you found yourself covered in blood, desperately searching for someone to help.
You thought all that stress might have been for nothing.
Was "nothing" even the right word? You hated yourself for even thinking about your baby in that way. But wasn’t it true?
You’d left everything behind. Rafe, your friends, your family, your home… everything. All to start a new life with just your baby girl.
Was everything you did leading to this—losing her?
“Stop stressing out.” You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to shut down the relentless thoughts. You couldn’t stop blaming yourself, your stupidity, your mistakes. Your hands instinctively rubbed your face, and for a moment, it felt like you’d never pull yourself back together. You felt like you needed a slap—maybe from yourself—to snap out of it.
JJ’s grip on your arm didn’t loosen. His other hand rested against your back, steadying you. “I hate this,” you murmured.
You felt drained. Your lower abdomen ached, waves of pain pulsed through your belly, and you’d lost so much blood. You knew you were on the verge of passing out but somehow managed to stay awake. The image of your blood on the floor was burned into your mind, dragging you back to that moment over and over again.
“Everything’s fine. I told you. Just stop stressing out.” But a gnawing feeling inside you said otherwise. It felt like you didn’t believe him. Like they weren’t telling you something—that you’d already lost the baby. It was paranoia, of course. Your obsessive, overthinking mind had a knack for showing up at the worst possible times.
Your hand rested on your belly. You wanted to feel her, even though you knew it was too early. Yet the faint swelling beneath your palm gave you some reassurance. “I can’t get it out of my head. It just—won’t go away. I’m scared.”
Admitting it out loud was never easy. But it was true. You were scared. Terrified.
You were scared you’d lose your daughter before you even had the chance to hold her. Scared that the life you’d imagined with her might never come to be.
The sound of ambulance sirens carrying you away from your home to the hospital sent chills down your spine. Knowing it could all end in an instant consumed you.
You hated it. You hated every ounce of it. God, you wanted this baby. You wanted to be a mother. You wanted to erase that brief moment when you’d considered an abortion from your memory.
For the first time, you felt like you had something to hold onto. You felt what it was like to love someone without even knowing them, seeing them, or meeting them. Listening to her heartbeat, staring at her ultrasound image, you felt that love. You saw it. Not Rafe, not anyone else. You saw how happy it made you.
You’d never felt so happy in your life. It was the happiest time you’d ever known. You loved your daughter unconditionally. You thought about her constantly—what she’d look like, her eye color, her nose, her tiny hands, how she’d look in the little outfits you’d bought—everything.
You wanted her. With all your heart and soul, you wanted her. You longed for the days when she’d be in your arms. You wished time would fly so those moments could arrive.
You loved someone without expecting anything in return.
The idea that she wouldn’t give you anything was ridiculous.
She was everything. She was already giving you the world. How could you not love her? The world might not revolve around you, but your world, your tiny, fragile world, was ready to revolve around her.
Rafe’s betrayal, the inability to trust anyone enough to share this pregnancy, had already shattered you. You’d hit rock bottom. And the only thing that could pull you out was clear—your little girl.
You lived for the thought of her. You woke up every day with her in mind. Even through the stress, you thought of her. Of your future together.
In this place, she was the only thing you had.
You couldn’t lose her. You didn’t want to. You were already bound to the idea of being her mother. She was the reason you got up every morning.
You hated this. You hated everything. You hated everything that threatened to take your daughter away from you. You hated how easily she could slip through your fingers, how a single moment could take her from you.
The hardest part was sitting in the hospital, bloodied and waiting for results. Your phone sat nearby, and you waited for any call other than JJ’s.
You felt like throwing up at the thought of having no one else to call. The person you reached out to, the person who tried for you, had only been in your life for four months. You weren’t even close. Barely a friend, certainly not a best friend, and definitely not a boyfriend.
He was just a kind-hearted guy.
The Kook-Pogue divide was real for you. They had money, power, influence—whatever. Not one of them had been there to catch you when you fell. Not one of them had reached out a hand to help.
What looked best on people, you’d decided, wasn’t jewelry or designer clothes. It was compassion.
You didn’t want to call yourself helpless, but you were. Struggling was normal. Flailing, failing to stand, that was normal. Accepting help was just as normal. It didn’t make you look foolish.
You didn’t regret calling Rafe. You weren’t even sure if you were angry at him. You couldn’t think about him when your whole body was screaming in pain. He wasn’t the focus.
Your mind was on your baby. On the results.
It took JJ two hours to show up. To be fair—this wasn’t to insult him—he didn’t have a penny to his name. Yet he still came. He left the island for you. You felt a twinge of guilt, but it blended with all the other things weighing on you. You couldn’t stop overthinking.
At some point, you felt like you’d turned to stone. You couldn’t cry. You could only breathe, think, exist. Until you saw JJ.
Was four months enough time to feel close to someone? You didn’t know. Especially considering the “friendship” you had with him. But the second you saw him, tears streamed down your face.
Seeing someone who made you feel safe, someone you didn’t have to hide your fears from, made you feel less alone.
In what felt like a moment meant to be, JJ wrapped his arms around you like it was the most natural thing in the world. He didn’t say a word. As you sobbed uncontrollably into his chest, you didn’t care how you looked. You saw warmth and security in the embrace, and you dove into it without hesitation.
Having someone there for you filled your heart with a quiet kind of comfort.
You cried and sobbed in his arms without shame. JJ didn’t seem to mind. You couldn’t see his face or hear his voice, but you felt his fingers brushing through your hair, his hand moving gently across your back to soothe you.
He held you. He didn’t let go. He just let you feel his presence. With every passing second, he slowly pulled the fear out of you. You didn’t need to say a single word—he understood.
You didn’t need to speak. Your actions said it all.
Crying in his arms during such a painful moment didn’t make you feel weak. Quite the opposite—it made you feel stronger. It gave you hope that somehow, everything would be okay.
He held you close until you calmed down. Maybe it was gross—perhaps you smelled of blood—but he didn’t care. When your sobbing turned into a quieter, monotonous rhythm, he pulled a chair beside the bed. Sitting next to you, he stroked your arm gently. He made sure you felt his presence—not just physically, but emotionally too. Whether he did it consciously or not, you couldn’t tell. But you felt it. He seemed to have a natural ease about him in moments like this.
Finding out it wasn’t a miscarriage brought relief. Knowing your baby was still there, still growing inside you, gave you a renewed sense of hope for the future. But with every piece of good news, there always seemed to be a shadow of bad news lurking.
The doctor explained that your pregnancy carried a higher risk of miscarriage. “It doesn’t mean you will,” the doctor clarified. “It’s just a possibility.”
Even so, the news left your mending heart with a fresh wound. You didn’t want to go through that same pain again; the thought terrified you. JJ stayed by your side, his reassuring touch grounding you, his hand resting firmly on your shoulder.
You felt as though you were observing the moment from the outside, watching the tension in your body slowly unravel. Like the fear was being drawn out of you, little by little.
The doctor’s words about potential causes lit up something in your mind.
Deli meats, infections, alcohol and smoking, certain herbal teas—
Your thoughts drifted to all those teas you’d sipped to ease your nausea. You felt like a complete fool.
You tried not to dwell on it, but the guilt still gnawed at you.
The doctor prescribed some vitamins to strengthen your pregnancy and support the baby’s health. After that, it was just a matter of waiting for the IV drip to finish. JJ insisted you try to sleep. You doubted you could, and you were right. You drifted in and out of restless slumber.
By the time you left the hospital and arrived back at your house, dawn was breaking.
“I’m throwing out all the herbal teas in this house,” you muttered, reaching for the flowerpot where you hid your spare key. JJ stopped you midway, brushing past to reach the pot himself. He dug through the soil, found the key quickly, and turned toward the door.
“I’ll take care of the trash,” he said, struggling to unlock the door while you lingered behind him, taking deep breaths and letting your eyes wander. It didn’t help. You just wanted to peel off the hospital clothes clinging to your skin and step into a shower to wash away the ache.
When JJ finally got the door open, your eyes darted skyward. The air was cool in a way you loved, and the crispness of the morning felt oddly soothing.
The sound of the door closing snapped your focus back to JJ. He was looking at you too. You opened your mouth to ask why he’d shut the door when you remembered what the inside must look like. There was probably blood on the floor. Maybe he was grossed out—
“Oh…” Your eyes widened as you reached for the key in his hand, but he moved it behind his back. “I—I forgot all about that. Look, let me—let me just… I’ll take care of it.”
You watched his face shift into something complicated as he blocked your attempt. “You sit,” he said quietly, his hands guiding you gently but firmly toward the steps. You blinked at him, confused.
You really didn’t understand.
“It’s not the first time I’ve had to clean up blood,” he muttered. When the meaning behind his words clicked, you tried to get up quickly but winced as a sharp pain cut through your abdomen. You slumped back down, clutching the nearest surface. You hadn’t even realized it was JJ’s arm.
“Easy,” he said, crouching instantly to check on you. “Are you okay? I can take you right back to the hospital if—”
“I’m fine,” you interrupted, shaking your head even as the pain subsided. You exhaled deeply and leaned back. “I just forgot what the place looked like inside. If you help me up, I’ll go in and—”
JJ’s gaze stopped you mid-sentence. It was the kind of look that made you question whether he thought you were serious. His hands stayed firm on your arms, scanning your face for any sign you weren’t okay so he could haul you right back to the ER.
“Stop,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. It froze you in place. “Do you really think I’d let you clean that up? Not a chance.”
Your eyes flicked from the closed door back to him. You hadn’t realized his thumb was tracing a soothing pattern on your arm. “But when you closed the door, I thought—”
“I didn’t want you to see it again, that’s all.” His voice softened. “Just that.”
It wasn’t something you were used to—this kind of kindness, this tolerance. As the silence stretched between you, you looked away, unsure of how to respond. His thumb kept moving in steady circles against your skin.
“Here’s the deal,” he said, his grip on your arm briefly tightening to get your attention. JJ took a deep breath and glanced at the key in his hand. “You tell me where the cleaning supplies are. I’ll go in, clean it all up, and you sit here until I’m done. Got it?”
Gentle parenting. Again.
Your head nodded on its own, and JJ’s face lit up with a small smile. His dimples caught your eye before his touch slipped away and he stood.
“Under the kitchen sink,” you murmured. JJ nodded as if committing your words to memory before heading to the door. “Be right back,” he said, disappearing inside and leaving the door ajar.
The feeling that bubbled up in you was impossible to describe. Strange. Having someone step in to help, to take charge of something for you—it was unfamiliar. JJ, of all people.
Sure, you were friends, but this? This was something else. You didn’t know how to feel or what to say, only that it left you warm despite the chill outside.
You’d expected to clean up the mess yourself, even for a moment. You weren’t lying; the thought made your stomach turn. Cleaning someone else’s blood? That wasn’t your thing.
But your stomach hadn’t turned when it came to JJ. When he’d been lying in your guest bathroom, covered in blood, you hadn’t flinched. Bandaging his wounds, cleaning him up so he wouldn’t get an infection—it hadn’t fazed you.
You found yourself wondering what he thought about you. You were just a kook girl—Rafe’s ex, rich, golf clubs, parties. You weren’t anything special. The most notable thing about you right now was being pregnant.
It was weird that JJ would even want to be friends with you, that this was what had brought you together. Would he treat you the same if you weren’t pregnant? Would he still be so kind, so compassionate?
And what about you?
Would you have been this open to befriending a troubled guy if your circumstances were reversed?
The thought didn’t sit right with you. It wasn’t fair to boil it down to pity or your pregnancy. Your friendship felt real. JJ wasn’t risking his neck for some random pregnant girl—he was doing it for a friend.
JJ would do anything for his friends. That’s just who he was.
And you were his friend. At least, that’s how you saw him. But what about him? Did he see you the same way, or had you misread everything?
“Nice place you’ve got here.” His voice startled you. You jumped and turned to see him standing close, smiling faintly. “All done. Let’s get you inside before you freeze.”
JJ held out his hand to help you up, and you wondered how long he’d been there. You didn’t hesitate to take his hand, and he quickly offered the other to steady you. “Slowly,” he said, helping you to your feet with careful precision. He didn’t let go, watching your face closely for any signs of discomfort.
“You good?” he asked, his tone uncertain. His hands stayed firm, waiting for confirmation. His eyes were searching yours.
You nodded. “I’m good,” you murmured.
JJ’s face broke into a proud smile. “I left the place spotless. You could eat off the floor,” he said, chuckling as he released one hand to rest the other gently on your back. He guided you through the open door, and you couldn’t help but notice how clean the floor really was. Not a single stain remained.
You let him lead you inside, wanting to thank him but unable to find the words.
“Hungry?” you asked, desperate for a distraction. His eyes met yours, his brows lifting in surprise before he shrugged.
“Not really. Are you?”
You shook your head, but deep down, all you wanted was to find a way to repay him.
JJ stepped back a bit and quickly shut the door. You watched him as he scanned the room. His eyes didn’t linger on you for long; instead, they wandered around your living room. “Nice place.”
You nodded in agreement. You liked your home. It wasn’t big, but it was enough for you. “I like it too.”
When JJ placed his hand on your back, you walked together. You needed a shower, but the dull ache in your stomach made you feel uneasy. “I’m going to shower.”
When you said it, looking at him, JJ quickly nodded. He stayed by your side as you made your way to the stairs, helping you up to the second floor. But a sharp pain in your stomach made you stop dead in your tracks. Your hand instinctively went to your stomach. Everything still felt terrifying.
JJ’s protective instincts kicked in immediately. He stepped in front of you, holding your hand, leaning down to catch your gaze as if to check if something was wrong. “Shit…”
As JJ stared at you with wide, worried eyes, you squeezed his hand. It felt like a heavy period cramp, but after what had happened, you couldn’t treat it as just normal. “Shit. What do I do? Do you need me to do something—?” You shook your head. You opened your mouth to tell him you’d be fine, but JJ kept rambling. ���Do you want to sit? Let’s sit. Or I can bring you water—damn it. Just tell me. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
“JJ, baby is okay, calm down.” When you looked up and spoke, you met JJ’s worried gaze. He’d stopped talking, but you could still see the panic in his eyes.
You steadied yourself, gripping his hand for extra support, and took a deep breath. “I’m more worried about whether you’re okay.” JJ placed his hand on your back again, opening the bathroom door with the other hand, while his brow furrowed. The silence in the house as he moved around felt eerie to you. “I’ll wait by the door until you’re done, okay? Just call out if you need anything. I’ll be right here.”
He looked at you as if seeking confirmation. “Okay.”
Your response seemed to satisfy him. He quickly stepped back, holding the door. “I’m right here. Just say my name.” Then, he closed the door.
You weren’t sure how to feel. Honestly, you didn’t want to feel anything. This shower wasn’t about comfort; it was about necessity. It was a mission to wash away the filth you felt clinging to you.
So the shower was quick.
You cleaned yourself up and stepped out, wrapping yourself in a robe. Before leaving the bathroom, you caught your reflection in the mirror one last time. Your face was almost ghostly pale.
When you opened the door to leave, you found JJ sitting on the floor across from the bathroom, leaning against the wall. He was nearly dozing off, but the sound of the door opening made his eyes snap wide open. He rubbed his face quickly and pushed himself up with the wall for support. “You okay?” he asked the moment he got to his feet. He was standing right in front of you.
You nodded. “I’m going to set up the guest room for you.” You didn’t want him sleeping on the floor or wherever he might end up. You both needed rest. He’d stayed awake the entire evening. You’d tried to sleep but hadn’t really managed to. Rest was overdue for both of you.
As you crossed your arms over your chest and took a step toward the guest room, JJ’s hand on your arm stopped you. “I’m fine. I don’t need to sleep.”
Liar. He looked like he could barely keep his eyes open.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m going to sleep too.” JJ shook his head as if he didn’t hear a word you said.
“Doesn’t matter. You might need me. What if I don’t wake up? What if I don’t hear you—” JJ ran his hands through his hair, glancing around, visibly anxious.
“I’m going to sleep too. If I need anything, I promise I’ll call for you. Please.” Your words, especially the plea, seemed to break through to him. He dropped his gaze to the floor, weighing your words.
“Fine,” he mumbled, his tone almost defeated. Then, he looked up at you. “But only after I know you’re asleep.”
You had no idea where this sudden surge of protectiveness had come from, but—it wasn’t unwelcome. Damn.
You were surprised he gave in so quickly. You thought he’d argue longer. Nodding, you agreed. “I’ll show you your room.”
He followed you to the guest room silently. Afterward, you didn’t exchange many words. You went to your own room and shut the door.
The doctor had mentioned there might be some light spotting for a few more days. It was unnerving, but they assured you it was normal. Just small amounts, they’d said, but if it got heavy, you’d need to go to the hospital. That would be a warning sign.
You slipped off your robe and put on fresh undergarments. The mirror in front of you offered a full view of your stomach. Your hand drifted over the slight swell, and you couldn’t help but smile.
Knowing they were still there was everything.
And the small bump—it looked so perfect. You loved it. Pregnancy suited you in a way you hadn’t expected. You felt—beautiful. Just...different, but in the best way.
Was this a pregnancy kink?
No. Definitely not. But seeing yourself like this made you feel strong. Attractive.
You pulled your gaze from the mirror and grabbed a T-shirt and sweatpants from your closet. After getting dressed, you stepped out of your room, wanting to check on JJ. “JJ?” you called out. His door was open.
“What happened? Shit—” A loud noise came from his room, and your brows furrowed. JJ rushed out of the doorway, looking frantic. “What’s wrong? God, did something happen?”
On any other day, you might’ve laughed at this, but now didn’t seem like the time. To calm him down, you placed a hand on his chest. “JJ, relax. I’m fine, okay? I just wanted to see if you were okay.”
JJ closed his eyes for a moment, realizing nothing was wrong. He let out a deep breath, shoulders sagging slightly.
With a grin, you teased, “Could you maybe dial down the panic a bit?”
JJ ruffled his hair. He opened his mouth to speak but then stopped, shaking his head. “You scared me,” he said finally, his voice serious enough to wipe the smile off your face.
His eyes locked onto yours, and you could hear the heaviness in his breathing. “God—you really scared me. I just—I don’t know. The thought of something happening and not being there...” His hands moved nervously, and he didn’t blink.
“Getting a call like that, in the middle of the night, from a friend—do you know how terrifying that is? Don’t expect me to be calm, not right now. Do you know what went through my head in those two hours it took to get to you?” His voice wasn’t angry, just filled with a kind of helplessness. You stayed quiet, letting him get it all out.
“Not being able to reach you during those minutes... God—when you told me you were alone here, my only thought should be to get to you. If I had been here sooner, maybe... maybe it wouldn’t have happened.” He shut his eyes tightly. You shook your head and grabbed his arms to stop him.
“This was my choice,” you said, watching the sorrow in JJ’s face like a weight pressing on your chest. “Moving here, deciding to be on my own—that was my choice.”
“As your friend, I shouldn’t have let you be alone. Especially now, when you’re so vulnerable. I should’ve checked on you—” JJ seemed bent on blaming himself. Despite knowing it was your decision, he couldn’t shake the thought that he should’ve been there for you.
As your friend.
You hadn’t expected it to feel this heavy. This feeling, of having a real friend—it was weighty in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Not painful, just...profound, because it was the first time you’d truly had it.
Having someone who genuinely cared—it was overwhelming.
“JJ, I chose this. None of this is your fault.”
“I should’ve been there.”
For a moment, you thought you saw JJ’s eyes glisten, but he quickly turned his head away. Even if he had been there, there was nothing he could’ve done, and he didn’t seem to understand that. You hadn’t fallen, you hadn’t hurt yourself. There was nothing to save you from.
JJ ran a hand through his hair, as he always did. “Oh God...” Then, you felt his hand settle on your back, pulling you into a tight embrace. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him.
When one of JJ’s hands moved into your damp hair, you closed your eyes tightly. For a while, neither of you said a word. You just stayed there, holding on.
“You didn’t dry your hair again, did you?” His words came in one breath, followed by a small smile tugging at his lips. You pulled back slightly to look at him. JJ’s hand slid away from your hair, but the one on your back stayed firm. Your arms had loosened just a bit, yet the two of you remained close enough to touch.
“Old habits.” You noticed his lips curling up too, though his eyes were a little red.
“That’s a habit we’ll have to break. I’m drying your hair—no way am I letting you get sick.”
You stepped back, nodding at him. When he gestured toward the bathroom with his head, you laughed and walked ahead, leaving him to follow. He really was going to dry your hair, huh?
What a gentleman.
You were too shy to offer, too worried you’d say something dumb and ruin the moment. But the way he acted—so considerate—made you feel seen.
Maybe you shouldn’t let him. It felt like crossing a line. Then again, he’d called you his friend. Confirmed that you were his friend.
“Would you stay with me for a few days?” The words tumbled out before you could overthink them. If you hesitated even a second longer, you would’ve said nothing at all. You’d only mull it over and eventually bury it in fear.
JJ glanced at you while plugging in the hairdryer. “I’m not leaving you. Honestly, even if you hadn’t asked, I was already planning to stay.” His dimples appeared with his grin.
Your lips mirrored his, stretching into a big smile. JJ turned on the dryer and began working on your hair.
-
"Is this my shirt?"
Your eyebrows furrowed as you quickly turned your gaze toward JJ. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding up a shirt—the one he had given you at the beach. That day you both fell asleep on the boat.
"I figured you’d have tossed it by now," he said, spinning the shirt lazily in his hand, a grin tugging at his lips. Even from a distance, you could see his dimples.
"That’s mine now."
JJ’s eyes snapped to yours, his eyebrows shooting up in mock surprise. He gestured at the shirt dramatically. "This? This has always been mine. And it will stay mine."
Without a second thought, you placed the fruit bowl from your lap onto the couch and stood up. As you walked toward him, you couldn’t miss the playful smirk on his face.
"Not anymore," you replied, yanking the shirt from his hands. After all, it was given to you, and you had no intention of giving it back. Besides, it was soft, and you liked it. That was that. Turning on your heel, you headed back to the couch, ready to resume eating your strawberries.
"Possessive, huh? Hot."
You paused mid-sit, narrowing your eyes at him, his mischievous smile still plastered across his face. "You’re disgusting."
You settled into the couch, the sound of JJ’s laughter echoing as you tucked the shirt behind you, out of his reach. The fruit bowl returned to your lap, and you focused on the reality show playing on TV.
A moment later, you heard JJ’s footsteps. He vaulted over the back of the couch and sprawled lazily a short distance away from you. Half-reclining, he tilted his head to look at you, propping it up with his hand. "You mad at me?"
You shrugged as you pulled your legs up onto the couch. "What would I even be mad about? Don’t flatter yourself."
Apparently emboldened by your response, JJ reached for the fruit bowl in your lap. Without missing a beat, you swatted his hand away.
"Because you’re not worth it," you added with a smirk, knowing it would sting.
JJ’s jaw dropped in exaggerated shock, his hand clutching his chest dramatically as he gasped, loud and theatrical. What a drama queen.
You pressed your lips together, trying to suppress a smile, but it was hard—especially with him acting like this.
JJ had been staying with you for a few days now—nearly a week. He’d told his friends he had "stuff to do," but really, his only task had been keeping you company. Not that he admitted it outright.
The first few days had been awkward for both of you. You were tense, and he was, well, JJ. But by the third day, you’d fallen into a rhythm.
Turns out your family hadn’t been ignoring your calls—they were simply on a flight. That made sense, so you didn’t hold it against them. You didn’t even tell them about the scare. You just mentioned a bad dream, said you’d worried about them. It wasn’t exactly true, but there was no point in alarming them over something that had already passed.
So, you acted like nothing had happened.
Talking to Rafe, though? That had been strange. Hearing his voice after so many months had stirred something in you—a wound you’d thought had healed.
At first, you hadn’t planned on answering his call. You wanted to ignore it, let it ring out. But when he called a second time, you couldn’t stop yourself from picking up, even though part of you wanted to tell him to leave you alone.
You didn’t regret it. Even now, if you were in the same situation, you’d do it again. It wasn’t stupidity—it was necessity. Back then, you’d needed all the help you could get.
You’d lied to him, claiming you were drunk. It wasn’t the most believable excuse, given your condition, but it had slipped out before you could think. After that, you ended the call and prayed he wouldn’t bother you again.
He didn’t.
Rafe didn’t call or text again—not that he ever really had before.
So, you pushed him from your mind, or at least tried to. You focused on JJ instead, and it helped.
With him, you laughed, watched movies, and, for the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel so alone.
The sound of someone else’s voice in your house, the way he teased you, the comfort of knowing someone cared—it made you feel lighter. Happier.
You even found yourself enjoying little things: the morning sounds of the TV downstairs, the smell of something burning as JJ attempted breakfast, the way his footsteps echoed through the halls. It felt… normal. Like how things were supposed to be.
Could you manage on your own? Sure. But having someone there? That felt better.
And the house was big—plenty of room for two. Maybe even three.
In just a week, you’d laughed more than you had in all the time you’d lived there. Maybe it was JJ’s personality, or maybe it was simply having someone around. Either way, you weren’t complaining.
You especially appreciated his presence during the harder moments. Like when nausea hit, or when you needed something and he showed up with hot chocolate instead of tea, filling the house with its sweet smell.
It was a rhythm you hadn’t known you��d needed. Even mundane things, like ordering takeout because neither of you felt like cooking, or going on morning walks together, had a way of making everything seem a little brighter.
You’d never spent this much time with him before. And yet here he was, nearly a week in, and it felt… easy.
But there were moments, fleeting as they were, when you couldn’t help but wonder how he treated his other friends—John B, Kiara, Pope, and Sarah. You didn’t like the feeling it gave you. You weren’t usually the jealous type, but it burned in the back of your mind.
Did he treat them like this? Were they as close as you two had been these past days? You hated the thought, not because it was JJ, but because you’d never had that kind of friendship before.
That kind of closeness, the ease of it—it was foreign to you. And you wanted it, even if you hated admitting it.
JJ poked your exposed stomach, snapping you out of your thoughts. His finger traced lazy circles on your skin as his eyes met yours. "Did I interrupt something?"
You shook your head, grateful for the distraction. "Not at all."
When you smiled at him, he grinned back without hesitation. JJ’s smiles were contagious, impossible to resist.
"You were zoning out," he said. "I called your name a couple of times, but you didn’t answer."
"I didn’t even notice." You straightened your posture slightly, meeting his curious gaze.
JJ’s eyes dropped back to your stomach, and he smirked as he poked it again. "Your mom says I can’t eat the fruit. Hey, you hear me in there?"
He was speaking to your bump now, as though he expected a response. You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head.
"When will she start kicking?" he asked, glancing up at you.
You pulled the hem of your shirt higher, resting your hand on your belly. "The books say around five months, so… anytime now, I guess."
JJ nodded, his hand resting next to yours, a soft grin tugging at his lips.
“Are you going to share your fruit with me now?” JJ smirked as he asked, and when you started laughing at his words, he straightened up, sitting upright on the couch. You adjusted your shirt slightly, and you could feel his eyes lingering.
You turned your head toward him. “Are you going to tattle on me to my daughter again?” You asked him seriously, raising an eyebrow. JJ shook his head dramatically.
“Not if you hand over a few strawberries.” With a sigh, you gave in, holding out the bowl in your lap. He snatched a strawberry quickly, as if he’d been waiting for it.
“You can be so stubborn sometimes.” You grabbed a strawberry yourself, mirroring him. JJ leaned over to grab the remote from the table, letting out a small chuckle.
“Me? Stubborn? Please. Not when you’re around—impossible.” He leaned back into the couch, flipping through channels like he wasn’t just going to end up opening YouTube anyway.
The past few days, all he’d done was either watch movies or binge random YouTube videos. It was official—he was an iPad kid.
“Me? What stubbornness are you even talking about?” He finally turned his gaze away from the TV, arching an eyebrow at you. His expression practically screamed, ‘Seriously?’.
“From the moment we met, all you’ve done is argue about everything. Don’t even try to deny it; I know you too well for that.” His tone was calm, but there was a teasing edge to it, one he clearly added on purpose just to get under your skin. And it was working. You were sure of it.
“And all you ever do is... complain,” you shot back, saying the first thing that came to mind. JJ laughed dryly, his attention drifting back to the TV.
Of course, it wasn’t entirely true. Sure, he was as stubborn as you, but still.
“This debate is officially over. You’ve lost. Completely.” You couldn’t help but laugh again before lunging forward, trying to snatch the remote from his hand. “Hand it over.”
JJ, startled by your sudden move, tried to pull away quickly, but he was already at the edge of the couch with nowhere to go. It didn’t take much effort to grab the remote from him.
He could’ve made it harder for you. He could’ve easily hidden the remote or kept it away. But you knew JJ well enough to know he’d never risk accidentally hurting you, not even slightly. Instead, as you leaned over him, he instinctively steadied you with one hand to make sure you didn’t fall.
“Whoa, claws in, tiger!”
With the remote firmly in your grasp, you plopped back onto your spot on the couch. You grabbed the bowl of strawberries sitting between you two and moved it to your other side for good measure before immediately exiting YouTube. “We’re watching what I want. You— you—”
“What about me?” JJ’s tone was playful, his eyes fixed on you with an amused look. He was clearly enjoying this—watching you get all flustered. You wanted to smack that grin right off his face. Preferably with the remote.
“You don’t deserve it.” JJ’s laughter echoed so loud you felt like it could’ve been heard across the whole street. It sounded... annoyingly fun. But you didn’t look back at him. You flipped through channels until you landed on some trashy reality show. That’s what you’d watch, whether he liked it or not.
“A dumb reality show deserves your attention, but I don’t? Really, princess?” You nodded furiously, biting into another strawberry for emphasis.
Damn hormones. They were driving you crazy.
“Alright, white flag. Let’s call a truce. Deal?” He extended his hand toward you, his grin still smug. He looked like he was thoroughly enjoying messing with you.
For a brief second, you considered ignoring him. Leaving his hand hanging and pretending you didn’t notice. Just keeping your focus on the TV.
But it was only a fleeting thought. Before you knew it, you were shaking his hand. “For now,” you said, your tone warning. JJ just nodded, satisfied.
He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, your phone buzzed on the table, grabbing both your attention. John B’s name and picture lit up the screen. You pulled your hand back from JJ’s as he adjusted his posture, glancing at the phone for a moment before picking it up, slow and deliberate. Holding it in one hand, he rubbed the back of his neck with the other.
“I’ll take this outside,” he said, standing up and waiting a beat, as if for your approval. When you nodded, he gave a short nod back and headed for the porch.
You watched through the glass door as JJ paced back and forth, phone pressed to his ear. It was strange, watching him like this—like you were peeking into a part of his world you didn’t belong to. There was a tension in his posture, something that contrasted sharply with his usual carefree energy.
As he talked, you busied yourself in the kitchen, cleaning up just to give your hands something to do. But your mind kept drifting back to him. Watching him through the door felt like glimpsing a piece of his life he hadn’t shared with you.
When you finished, JJ came back inside, closing the door quietly behind him. His eyes immediately found yours, and he hesitated for a moment, like he was trying to figure out how to tell you something. Hands shoved in his pockets, he took a few steps closer.
“What is it?” You dropped the cloth you were holding, giving him your full attention. JJ shrugged, his expression suddenly unreadable, but it gave you the sinking feeling something was off.
“John B and Sarah are getting married in two days,” he said finally, his voice low but clear.
You stared at him for a moment, processing his words. “Seriously? I mean, I figured this day would come, but—cute.”
JJ nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. But there was something behind it, something you couldn’t quite place, like a shadow lingering just out of sight. “Yeah, John B proposed a while back. They had to delay it because of... stuff, but I guess it’s happening now.”
When JJ scratched the back of his neck, you could feel his unease, though you couldn’t pinpoint why. The news brought a strange ache to your chest—a reminder that you weren’t really a part of his world, his friends. You didn’t even know them. And the thought of JJ not being here... it crept in before you could stop it.
“You’re going, aren’t you?” The words slipped out before you could catch them, sounding more like an admission than a question, like you were bracing yourself for the inevitable.
You’d known this day would come. But still—whatever.
JJ looked at you, caught off guard by the question. He hesitated before answering. “Yeah, I’ll be there,” he said slowly, his tone hinting at reluctance. “But... what about you? Have you reached out to your mom? Can she come here?”
You shook your head, your hands gripping the marble counter instinctively. “I don’t know. I didn’t tell them about the hospital thing, so… they might find it weird.”
JJ nodded. His hands were in his pockets, and he nudged at the floor with his foot like he was playing with something invisible. He looked uncomfortable.
“John B still doesn’t know you’re not living with your dad?” The question slipped out before you could stop it. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked, but if he was planning to go back to the island, you had to know. You didn’t want him living on the streets—or worse, finding him bloodied and bruised again. Especially now that you weren’t there on the island, the thought of him sleeping out in the open sent a pang through your chest.
The silence between you was brief, but it hung heavy. JJ’s furrowed brow made it clear that he was just as unsettled as you were. He took a long breath, his head tilting slightly downward. “John B doesn’t know I don’t talk to my dad,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet but resolute.
His words tightened something deep inside you. When you looked at him, you could see the tension etched on his face. “Only Pope knows,” he added, his shoulders tensing slightly as if bracing for a reaction.
That revelation only deepened the stillness between you. Seeing the cracks in JJ’s life hurt you and confused you at the same time. But you didn’t want to make it worse by pointing it out. You held back, careful not to say anything that might hurt him further.
You hated the silence that lingered between you two. It wasn’t like either of you to leave things hanging like this during tense moments. It felt... wrong.
“I could leave tonight if you want,” JJ said after a while, his tone still calm but firm. “Or… tomorrow. Whatever works for you.”
His words stung, fanning the ache that was already growing inside you. You knew he needed to leave, but you still wanted him to stay. You’d grown so used to having him around—spending time with him had been comforting in a way you hadn’t expected. The idea of him leaving now made something in you twist uncomfortably.
You closed your eyes tightly, gripping the edge of the counter like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. When you opened them and looked at him, you hesitated, weighing the words you wanted to say. Was it selfish? Too much to ask? What if he said no? You knew he had to go, but you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting him to stay.
Taking a deep breath, you turned your gaze to him. “Maybe…” you started, your voice dropping to a near whisper, “maybe you could think about staying here after— wedding?”
JJ’s head snapped toward you, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. For a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to figure out what you really meant. The room was so quiet, you could hear the sound of both your breaths.
He said your name softly, like he was testing the weight of it. Then he paused, his lips parting as if to speak before closing them again without saying anything.
His surprise was written all over him. His lips slightly parted, his gaze locked onto yours, JJ looked completely unsure of what to do. Slowly, he pulled his hands out of his pockets, rubbing his fingers together nervously.
“I know…” you said, dropping your gaze to the floor. Your voice was shaky and gentle, laced with a vulnerability you weren’t used to showing. It felt ridiculous to even have this conversation. You hadn’t realized you could be this bold. “I know you have to go. Your friends are waiting for you. But… if you wanted to, I mean—” You hesitated, your words barely audible now. “I’d be happy to have you stay here.”
JJ stayed quiet for another beat, his expression distant but conflicted. Whatever you’d said had clearly struck a chord with him. The idea seemed to catch him off guard but also made him think.
He said your name again, softer this time. His gaze dropped to the floor, and he hesitated for a long moment. “It’s… not that simple. I mean…” His hand went up to his hair, fingers pushing through it as he rubbed the back of his neck. “My friends are there. My life’s… there. You know?” He exhaled deeply, clearly struggling to find the right words.
Seeing the indecision in his eyes made your chest tighten. Am I asking too much? Am I a burden? The thought of him choosing you over everything else felt naïve. Not that it was about choosing you exactly, but still… expecting him to stay felt foolish.
His friends had been his whole world for years. Would he really leave them behind just because you asked? Would he abandon everything like you had, even for a little while?
For JJ, staying meant leaving his friends behind. Watching everyone’s lives from a distance instead of being part of the chaos. And coming back afterward? It might make things even messier.
But then again… he knew things weren’t the same anymore. They weren’t high school kids chasing trouble anymore. They’d grown up, and with that came responsibilities. Responsibilities that seemed to pull them all in different directions, slowly but surely.
Pope and Cleo were working for Pope’s dad, figuring out their own lives while enjoying being together. Kiara was helping her parents with the family business. John B and Sarah were preparing to start a family. And JJ… JJ felt like he was drifting. Like the ties that once bound them together were fraying.
“They all seem to have something,” JJ said suddenly, his voice distant. He wasn’t even looking at you now, his thoughts clearly spiraling. He didn’t know what answer to give you. Honestly, he didn’t even know what he wanted for himself. He just… didn’t want to keep drifting.
“You have something too,” you said firmly, your tone gentle but sure. “You’ve been here for me. You helped me when I was alone. When I was scared… you were here.” When you finished, you looked at him, watching closely for his reaction.
JJ shifted uncomfortably at your words. His eyes seemed to weigh them carefully. There was still hesitation in his expression, but something else was there too. Maybe guilt. Maybe understanding.
He didn’t really have anywhere to go. His relationship with his dad was a disaster, and he had no intention of fixing it. He couldn’t crash at John B’s place forever—gosh, the guy was getting married. Sarah would probably put a lock on their door. He couldn’t just hang around like their adopted kid.
Pope’s house? Already too crowded, with Cleo practically living there at this point. And Kiara’s parents? Yeah, they absolutely hated him. Living on the streets forever wasn’t an option either...
The silence stretched on. Time seemed to slow, pressing down on the two of you like an invisible weight. The only sound was the faint rustling of the trees outside in the wind. JJ looked at you, and when his eyes met yours, something inside you cracked. Asking him to stay felt like you were adding to the burdens he already carried. But it wasn’t selfish—you weren’t demanding or desperate. There was a fragility in the way you asked, a quiet understanding between the two of you. In that moment, JJ realized you were just as lost as he was.
“I’ll stay,” he said finally, his voice quiet and hesitant. “But—” He paused, his gaze locking onto yours again. “It’s not forever. Just… for a while. We’ll figure out what comes next together.”
The wave of relief that washed over you was overwhelming. A grin spread across your face, and you shifted in place, resisting the urge to throw your arms around him.
JJ deciding to stay wasn’t just about his circumstances—it was about trust, about the connection you shared. But you could also see that it wasn’t an easy decision for him. He felt alone, in a way that mirrored your own loneliness.
He leaned against the kitchen counter, staring into the distance for a moment. “Sometimes,” he started softly, “I feel like I don’t belong anywhere. So… maybe this isn’t such a bad idea.”
You smiled at him, your lips trembling slightly at the edges. “JJ,” you said gently, your voice steady but warm, “We’ll be okay.”
JJ didn’t respond right away, but after a moment, the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He shook his head lightly and said, “Yeah. We will.” There was something different in his eyes this time—something warmer, more at peace.
You couldn’t put into words the happiness you felt in that moment. This was what communication was about. If you hadn’t asked, you would’ve been left feeling miserable, JJ would’ve walked away, and you’d have been alone. But now…
He was staying. With you.
#obx#jj maybank#rafe cameron#jj fanfiction#jj serie#obx jj#obx jj maybank#obx cast#obx fic#obx4#obx jj x reader#rafe obx#rafe cameron smut#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron x reader#rafe outer banks#rafe x you#rafe smut#rafe fic#rafe x reader#kiara obx#obx pogues#obx x reader#obx fanfiction#sarah cameron#john b routledge#obx cleo#pope heyward#obx season 4#rafe fanfiction
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Dolly (Pt 2)
Human Alastor x Housewife!Reader
Pt 1, Finale
Tw: Murder, Forced Cannibalism, reader is described as a woman, dumbifying reader, mention of pregnancy, pregnancy.
Note: I guess I’m making this a series? I really want them to meet in hell. Also I really haven’t made it obvious bc I don’t want to erase Alastor being aroace. The way I see it, he’s kinda just toying with reader and grew obsessed once reader became a murderer.
———————————————————————
The morning after your delightful meal, you found yourself puking your guts out. The food did not agree with you at all. You wonder how Alastor’s body did not reject your food. Maybe it was all guilty’s conscience, but you’re not guilty for what you did.
Alastor holds your hair back, rubbing small circles on your back. “Oh my, what a way to start the morning. It makes me wonder if you’re perhaps pregnant.”
You shoot him a look, “Please do not say that, I beg of you.” No, you’re not pregnant, and Alastor knows you’re not pregnant. But if you are. . . That means you’re all to himself. You will have no choice but to depend on him even more. Even if you decided one day to leave him, you can’t. Nobody other man wants a tainted woman with children. Maybe one day he should get you pregnant.
Oh he absolutely knows that his dear wife has committed something awful and he’s proud of you, although he won’t admit it, yet. For now, he’s here to support you through the aftermath of your actions.
He could even recall his first kill, it was messy and uncoordinated, and the gore did not sit right with his stomach. But he hopes that his wife does not meddle in the business no longer. All you must do is sit pretty and be the doll you are. The sweet wife who cleans the house and cooks for him and cares for him dearly while being oblivious to the fact that your husband is out and about, killing many people.
But he’s curious. You might be just like him and the thought of that makes him want to grasp you in his hands tightly. To keep you all to himself and keep you away from anything that could take you away from him. At the same time, he wants to test you, push you further into insanity until there’s no more turning back and you’re addicted to the feeling of blood on your hands.
You’ve made a decision, you’re going to confess to Alastor. You can’t just keep him the dark about what you’ve done. “Alastor dear, so about Linda. . . I’ve. . .”
“No need to say more, ma cheri. I know.” He says, acting sympathetic towards you. He pulls you into a hug and you can’t help but burst into tears. He pats
“My dear, you’ve had such a bad morning so I believe you should go out and treat your pretty self with something,” He hums, combing your hair back.
“But-“
“I insist dear. Allow me to tend to the home and when you get back, you’ll be treated to a nice meal. How does that sound?”
Your lips pursed in thought. “Fine, but only because you insist.”
The phone rings.
“I’ll take that, mon cheri. Now I’ll allow you to get yourself all pretty and I’ll get you some money for you to spend.” He kisses your head and leaves you be.
———————————————————————
An outing is just what you needed, although it was not to relieve your nerves. You only felt guilt for having stained your hands with red. That matters not, anymore. Alastor says to relax and enjoy your outing and that is what you’d do.
Now that you’re out, Alastor prepares to go out. He puts his gloves, “I should prepare a freshly cooked meal for my dear wife. It’s about time I went hunting.” He hums to himself and leaves the house.
———————————————————————
The sound of chopping is heard through the kitchen. Chopped vegetables are put aside and Alastor is seen kneading a sort of meat. After he’s satisfied, he chops the meat and sets it aside.
“Let us see,” He says, squatting down to the body by the kitchen island. He reaches inside the abdomen, a squelch being heard as his hands move deeper. “Ah, there it is!” He says cheerfully as he cuts out the intestines.
After squeezing the contents out of the intestines, he looks up at the clock. “Oh dear me! It’s about time my dear Y/N comes home!”
It’s already 5 and he expects you to be home in about an hour.
He continues to grind away the other organs and meat before stuffing the intestines, making the sausages for the jambalaya.
After an hour has passed, you are back home. As you were about to reach for the handle, the door opened, revealing Alastor. “Welcome home ma cheri!” He greets you with a smile, pulling you in for a hug. You reciprocate and kisses his cheek. “What have you got there?” He asks, motioning to the bags.”
“Oh I’ve only bought a few dresses. Nothing out of the ordinary,” You shrug, putting the bags down.
“Then I should expect a show from you then, is that correct? Give me a little twirl in each dress?” His voice deepens as he tilts your head up to look at him.
“If that’s what my dear husband wants,” You say, almost as if you’re purring.
Alastor hums in approval and pulls your lips into a kiss. His arm around your waist, pulls you in, pressing your body against his. “Oh my pretty doll, you’ve got me all distracted.”
“And it is my fault?” She chuckles.
“Yes dear, it’s your fault for being so gorgeous, however I cannot complain about that. Come now, I’ve made jambalaya. Let us eat before it gets cold.”
You follow him immediately to the dining room. “How I love jambalaya. I’m grateful you’ve introduced me to one of your favorites.” You smile as you sat down. “You didn’t put shrimp?” You ask.
“I’ve decided to add some meat instead,” Alastor says, placing some food on your plate.
“Well anything you cook is delicious. I’ll enjoy every bite!” You beam.
The two of you continue to eat and chat. While doing the dishes, the door bell rings. “I wonder who that might be?” You say confused, not expecting any visitors.
Alastor goes to the front door and opens it with a smile. “Hello, how can I help you fine gentlemen?”
“We’re with the police, I’d just like to ask about your neighbors.” One of the officers say.
“Well of course!” Alastor remains to smile, however he is irritated, not that anyone notices.
“Who is it Alastor, dear?” You say, walking behind him. “Oh! Well hello officer!” You immediately put a bright smile. Alastor wraps an arm around your waist.
“Yes, you must be this fine gentleman’s wife. We’d just like to ask if you folks know anything about Mrs. Linda and perhaps Mr. Connor?” The officer asks.
“Connor? Well what could have possibly gone wrong?” Alastor says in confusion.
“Well officer, last night we got a call from dear Connor and just earlier before that, I believe during the afternoon, Linda paid me a small visit,” You answer.
“Is that so? Well ma’am, did she enter the home?”
“Yes she did. Just for a couple minutes though.”
“Anything in particular happened? Arguments, anything?” The officer pushes on.
“Oh of course not! Linda and I may only be acquaintances but I do not harbor such ill feelings for her.”
Alastor squeezes your waist, “You see, my dear wife is far too good for her own good. Far too oblivious to the world, but who can blame her. She’s a doll after all.”
You smile at the officers, looking very innocent.
“Why, I see why you married such a beautiful lady,” The officers chuckles. “Well did she say anything before she left?
“No sir. . . Well she did complain about how she suspects her husband of have a mistress,” You answer.
Alastor adds, “The couple do tend to have a tendency for infidelity. There’s neighborhood rumors of one of the kids not even being Connors’! It’s no surprise though. They say Linda sleeps with other men.”
You gasp, “You mean that man she was with that one day-!”
“Oh no need to worry your pretty little head about it. That is not our problem,” Alastor says.
“And the call you received from Mr. Connor?” The officer asks.
“Oh he just called to thank my dear wife for her generosity. She was kind enough to bake the family a pie. She’s a rather good cook,” Alastor answers with a smile.
“Well you see, both of the couples are missing and have left their kids unattended.”
“Oh that’s awful! Are they okay?” You ask with worry.
“They sure are. If you happen to hear anything about them, please do give a call, thanks for your time,” The officer nods and leaves.
After Alastor closes the door, you immediately broke into a sob. “They’re out to get me Alastor! They’ll get me!” You cling to him.
“My dear you won’t, I promise you they won’t. I’d do anything,” Alastor says in a hushed voice.
“I-I’m the last to have seen Linda and Connor! Now Connor is gone too! What if they think I am the one who killed him!” You cry hysterically.
“My dear, have you not seen yourself? No one would believe that a small thing like you could have possibly killed someone,” he reasons.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course dear.”
———————————————————————
“Must you really go, Alastor?” You plead, grabbing his hand.
“I’m afraid I cannot skip out on work today, mon cheri. But what if they get me? What if I can’t see you again?” You say with worry.
Alastor chuckles. Your clinginess used to be something that annoyed him but not finds adorable. “Remember what I said last night?”
You nod.
“So you’ll let me go right?”
You nod and let go of his hand.
“Good. Now I’ll be back later, my dear.” He kisses your forehead and walks out the door.
He in fact did not come home that night. He was found dead, a bullet to his head. You never landed on the suspect list, as Alastor was found to be the serial killer of New Orleans.
#alastor x you#hazbin alastor#alastor x reader#alastor#hazbin x you#hazbin x y/n#hazbin hotel x y/n#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor
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In Another Life
Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader, Dean POV
Summary: When Dean wakes up in another life with you, he begins to question your friendship and realizes that he has loved you all along. But how can he change that? (I’m so bad at summaries please forgive me!)
Tropes: Angst, Fluff, Pregnancy Fluff, Mutual Pining
Word Count: 5.5K (I have an addiction don't judge me)
Warnings: I don’t think there’s any. I’ll say mention of gore, but for one second. Maybe one allusion to sex, but not really. Some swearing (once or twice). Dean might be a little bit OOC.
Note: This is told from Dean’s perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. This is my first time writing for Supernatural, so please be gentle. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!
Internal monologue is in italics
Main Masterlist
*********************************************
Dean couldn’t remember what happened last night only that the bed beneath him felt like an old friend welcoming him home. The night before ghosted across his mind, hovering just out of reach, memories of a dream barely forming from a fog of uncertainty. He fades in and out of sleep in a mist that soothes his aching body.
“Dean?” A soft voice whispers.
Dean groans and squeezes his pillow tighter against his chest to avoid waking up. He didn’t care what time it was, all he knew was that he didn’t want to get out of bed.
“Leave me alone Sammy.” He grumbles into the pillow.
“Dean.” The voice says again, this time with a happy laugh that sounds nothing like Sam.
His eyes open, blinded by the sunlight that streams through the large windows on the other side of the bedroom.
Wait. Where am I?
“Dean we have to get up or we’ll be late for the party.”
Dean looks towards the voice and realizes that he’s not squeezing a pillow, it’s you. You’re facing him, hair fanning out over the pillow beneath your head, eyes wide and crinkled around the edges, smiling at him.
“Y/n?” Dean says it hesitantly, arms tightening around your waist.
“No no no. Don’t look at me like that. I will not be roped into staying in bed. We can’t be late for your mom’s birthday party and you promised you would come with me to pick up the cake.”
“But-“ Dean couldn’t remember how he got here, only that something feels wrong.
“No buts.” You giggle, before leaning forward and kissing him.
Dean freezes, confused, but the soft movement of your mouth against his erases any uncertainty. He eases his face forward nudging his nose into yours to deepen the kiss. Dean doesn’t know how he got here, but all he knows is how natural it feels to be here with you. Before he can stop himself he rolls you over your back, bringing a moan from you that vibrates though his skull. His fingertips blaze a trail along your hips.
“Easy there tiger.” You smile up at him. “You don’t want to crush Zeppelin.”
Dean’s confusion makes you laugh, before he finally looks down between you. “You’re pregnant.” He whispers, noting the protrusion of your abdomen.
“I mean I think so.” You laugh in a way that makes his heart jump and buckle.
Dean lays his hand down on the smooth skin where your shirt pushes up. Why can’t I remember this? He thinks to himself confused, searching for memories he can’t recall.
“I believe we’ve talked about it several times. And it was you who decided to stay up until 4 am painting the nursery.” Your hands gently brush his hair back out of his face. “You did such a good job baby.”
Dean reaches for the memory, but he can’t seem to
grasp it. “I did?”
“Mhmm. Look at you, you’re still covered in paint.” You smile wider picking up the hand that rests on your belly to show him the splashes of cream colored paint flecked along the back of his hand. And as you do he notices the ring on your left hand.
“Are we married?” Dean tries again to grasp for his memory but comes up empty handed. He strokes his thumb along the back of yours examining the ring.
I should remember that. How could I forget that we’re married?
“Feigning amnesia will not make me stay in bed with you. No matter how cute you are.” You gently lay your hand against his chest pushing him back so you can sit up in bed.
Dean can’t help but notice how beautiful and carefree you look. Hair catching fire in the light from the window, t-shirt brushing against the top of your thighs, and how you smile at him with so much love it makes something catch in his chest.
“Dean?” You suddenly look worried. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “I’m just tired I guess.”
His cell phone rings where it sits on the nightstand, drawing his gaze to the alarm clock and car magazine that sit on top of the dark wood.
“You better answer that. It’s probably Sam asking us where we are.” You kiss him on the cheek, before standing up and walking into the closet on the edge of the bedroom.
Dean watches you go, his eyes tracing your familiar figure as you leave the room, before reaching for his phone.
“Hey where are you guys? Jessica’s freaking out because you haven’t brought the cake.” Sam’s voice triggers another memory for Dean, but this one remains allusive.
“Sam?”
“Dean.”
“Um.”
“Dean are you hungover or something?”
“No. Sorry, just running a little late-“ Dean apologizes looking around the bedroom. It’s small, filled with light from the open window that shows a quaint backyard. The dresser on the wall opposite the bed has photos of him and you, photos of Sam and Jessica, and a photo of Mary and John Winchester. Dean’s eyes stop on the photo as a memory triggers at the back of his mind, but Sam interrupts the thought.
“Well come on. Dad’s not going to like it if you guys miss mom’s birthday-“
“Dad?” Deans memory spikes again and he sees his father sitting in the drivers seat humming along to a song on the radio. Another memory flashes, Dean and his father standing behind the impala with Sam looking into the trunk.
“Yes dad. Your boss. Our father. Dean are you okay? Y/n said that you were painting the nursery last night all by yourself. You could have told me. I would have come over to help-“
“I’m alright Sammy.”
But he doesn’t feel alright, something is definitely wrong.
“Okay well hurry up. I’ll see you when you get here.”
Dean hangs up the phone and sits on the end of the bed with it in his hand.
You walk back into the room wearing a green sundress. Your hair is soft again, falling over your shoulders in a way that makes Dean’s breath catch, effortlessly beautiful.
A memory of you wearing jeans and a leather jacket washes across his mind of you standing with him at the back of the Impala reaching in for a shotgun while he knocks your hand away.
“Dean?” You walk towards him, this time standing between his legs. You place your hands on his shoulders and he can’t help but turn to look at the wedding ring. “Are you sure you’re okay? Because if you’re not feeling well we don’t have to go today. I can call your dad. But I just thought your really wanted to go. You hate missing your mother’s birthday. It’s usually you that drags me out of bed.” You trail your hand against the side of his face with a worried expression, to turn his gaze back on you.
Someone deep in the back of his mind the expression triggers something and he sees a memory of you. Except you’re holding a machete in your right hand that drips blood on the floor but, the look of worry in your eyes the same.
Where could that be from?
“I don’t know.”
“Hey.” You whisper, sitting down in his lap and his arms can’t help but secure you there, burying his head in your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I’m scared too.”
“What?” Dean raises his head from your shoulder
“We’ve talked about this. You’re going to be a great dad. And honestly we probably won’t know what we’re doing, but that’s how everyone starts.” Your fingertips drag through his hair in a soothing motion.
Dean tries again to grasp at earlier memories of this life, early memories of you, but all he sees are motel rooms. Motel rooms where you sleep on a pullout couch in a corner and where Sam sits at a small table shuffling through endless books and papers.
Why?
Dean can’t understand, because that life seems so different than this one. This one where you look softer and happier, where you share a bed and are married. He thinks about the other memories, where your smile is not as bright, where there’s a hardness to your face, but still just as beautiful. Another memory of him and you sitting in a bar drinking beer, another of you laughing at something he said and hitting him, and finally one of you reading in bed while Dean sits at a motel table and watches you softly turn the pages.
Deep down Dean knows in his bones that in those memories you and him are just friends, but he allows himself to indulge in your touch, enjoying the comfort that comes with being with you.
“It’s not about the baby.” Dean sighs. “I just can’t remember how we got here.”
“Here?”
“Married.” His arms tighten around your waist not wanting to let go. You’re the only thing he recognizes in all of this.
“Um well, my car broke down and I brought it to a mechanic shop where I met a devilishly handsome man with green eyes.” You smile at him. “Who refused to let me leave until he bought me dinner.”
Dean stares at you.
“Practically kidnapped me. But you were so charming I couldn’t resist.” You lean closer to whisper in his ear. “Not to mention sexy covered in grease and wearing a meatloaf t-shirt.” You kiss him before he can respond, and he loses himself in you. The way you hold him close, the way your fingers work up into his hair to secure him right where he wants to be, and the way you feel in his arms wipes away any uncertainty. “As much as I’d like to go back to bed with you, we’re going to be late.” You whisper against his lips.
And Dean allows himself to be dragged away.
*********************************************
“Did you remember to order the parts for that ‘76 Camaro right?” John Winchester asks Dean, but Dean’s not focused, he can’t focus on anything.
The drive over to his parents house was different. Instead of sitting on the opposite side of the front seat of the impala, you had sat in the middle, holding his hand and leaning against his shoulder, humming softly.
It made driving for Dean especially difficult. The memories of you in his car that came across his mind while he drove distracted him.
You in the backseat shouting something at Dean while he completely ignored you rolling his eyes, you sitting in the front seat with a map trying to direct him while Sam slept in the back, you singing to “The Eye of the Tiger” with him while Sam tried to close his ears, and finally you asleep in the front seat with Dean’s jacket draped over you. That last one stayed in his mind. He liked how you looked wrapped up in his jacket, breath fogging the glass window, while Dean tried his best to drive smooth and slow so you wouldn't wake.
But you in the front seat holding his hand and leaning against his shoulder while humming along to the music blew all of those memories out of the water. All Dean wanted to do was exist there and then.
When you both arrived at his parents home Dean tried not to be disappointed. Now he was too distracted watching you talk and laugh with Jessica and his mother across the room to listen to anything his father said.
“Dean are you listening?” His dad tries again.
“Huh?” The cold beer in Dean’s hand drips condensation against his skin. He turns to look back at his father.
Another memory of him momentarily distracts Dean, this one of John leaving Dean and Sam in a motel room so he can go hunting.
Did we ever go hunting? Dean tries to think of a time where they went out into the woods to shoot some deer, but comes up empty handed. A few memories of him and Sam toting guns rise to the surface, but he can't remember why they had them.
"You'll have to excuse Dean, he's still mentally painting the nursery." Sam snorts into his beer.
"Shut up."
"Don't tease him Sam. I'm sure that Jessica will have you turn your office into a nursery before you know it." You appear on Dean's left, raising his arm around you so you can lean into his side. Dean automatically tightens his arm around your shoulders.
"Don't joke about that y/n."
"Uh-huh. You can't hide in that big fancy law firm forever. She'll find you." You smile up at Dean in a way that makes his heart feel like its stopped beating.
Why can't I remember any of this life?
"She's right." Jessica comes over to kiss Sam on the cheek.
"I do not hide at the firm-" Sam rolls his eyes.
"You do."
Mary Winchester comes over. "Are you fighting at my birthday party?"
Dean's father puts his arm around his mother, pulling her into his chest with a smile he hides by taking a swig of beer.
"No mom, we're not-"
"Sounded like a fight to me." You whisper to Dean, and he can't help but smile at you.
"It's not a fight y/n!"
"Don't yell at my wife Sammy." Dean says before he can stop himself. He thinks about how natural it sounded coming out of his mouth.
His wife. You're his wife. He thinks and presses a kiss to the top of your head that makes you sigh into his chest.
"I'm not yelling at y/n."
"Sam we're just teasing you." Jessica laughs, placing her hand against his chest. Dean notices the ring on her own finger, and a memory of Jessica rises in the back of his head. Jessica standing in the darkness of an apartment, while Dean holds on to the front of Sam's shirt, her eyes wide and confused.
But it vanishes when you wince in his arms. Dean's eyes are drawn back down to you, worry spiking in his chest.
"I'm okay." You whisper. "Just think Zeppelin is hitting his limit."
"You guys go on home. I think that John has grilled Dean about the garage enough." Mary smiles, before taking a step forward to hug you. Dean is disappointed when you leave his arms, but smiles despite, watching you with his mother.
"Let the little linebacker get some rest." John hugs you.
"Of course. Thank you so much for letting us come. I'm sorry we were late." Dean watches the subtle blush of your cheeks as you apologize.
"I'm sure it's my son's fault." Mary moves to hug Dean.
As soon as she does Dean is overwhelmed by a surge of sadness as another memory of his mother rises in the back of his mind that he can't quite bring into focus.
"Mom?" Dean whispers.
"Hmm?" She looks up at him confused. "We'll see you on Tuesday for dinner. Okay?"
"Okay."
"We love you."
"I love you too mom." But something sticks in his chest when he says it.
“Don’t forget to order the parts.” John says shaking Dean’s hand.
“Sure.”
“Bye Jessica. Let me know if you need us to bring anything for Tuesday.” Dean watches you hug her and just for a moment Dean sees Sam holding a bouquet of flowers at a gravesite.
What is happening?
*********************************************
When Dean pulls the Impala into the driveway of your home something still feels wrong. After saying goodbye to everyone he still can’t shake the feeling that he forgot something. The radio plays "Black Dog" filling the silence as the car idles in front of the house.
“Dean!”
“What?” He turns to look at where you sit beside him in the front seat.
“Feel.” You grab one of his hands from the wheel and place it against your abdomen an excited smile gracing your cheeks. “Little future drummer."
The kicking against the palm of his hand makes Dean smile, leaning forward into where you sit beside him. Happiness breaks in his chest like the crest of a wave. He can't remember a moment in his life where he felt this happy, this much love for someone.
"Y/n?"
"Mhmm."
"I love you." Dean refuses to believe that he has said it to anyone else ever in his life, can't remember wanting to say it to anyone else, can't believe that he will ever want to say it to anyone else.
"I love you too."
He leans down to kiss you, hand still against your stomach, drawing you further into him to breathe you in. Everything else vanishes, just the feel of your soft lips against his, the tickle of your hair against his cheeks, and the pulse of his son's kicks against the palm of his hand.
But then it's all gone.
*********************************************
"Dean!" Sam's voice jars him into reality, his eyes opening to see his brother standing over him, one hand on his shoulder. "Dean are you okay?"
"What happened?" Dean sits up with a groan, ignoring the headache that throbs behind his eyes.
His eyes adjust to the dim light. He's in a long room where wooden tables sit every few feet covered in dust and machinery blanketed with old sheets. The musty smell fills his nose, replacing the smell of your shampoo that lingers under his nose from when you were in the front seat with him.
"Djinn ambushed you. Y/n and I got here as soon as we could."
"Y/n?" The memories of the dream strike him in the chest all over again, merging with memories of reality. "Where is Y/n?"
You enter the room out of breath, blood flecked across your cheeks and holding a baseball bat that drips a dark liquid onto the concrete floor. “It’s dead.”
"You sure?" Sam asks raising an eyebrow.
"There's enough brain matter on the floor in there for a zombie buffet." You shoulder the baseball bat. "So yeah, it's dead."
Dean’s eyes trace your body taking in the leather jacket and dark t-shirt his memory flashing to the green sundress and beautiful smile. You’re half-smiling, but Dean can see the hardness in your face again and understands where it comes from.
She wasn’t a hunter. He thinks of the dream version of you, where your hair fell in soft curls, but now it’s tied back in a ponytail. His eyes drop to your abdomen expecting more, but disappointment flicks in his heart. It wasn’t real.
“Dean are you okay?” You step closer to him. The smile has dropped now, replaced with a worried expression.
He flashes back to when you asked him that in the dream, when you sat on his lap and tangled your hands in his hair, sighing into his mouth as he kissed you.
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
He traces your face again but every time he does he only sees the other version of you, the version that’s in love with him, married to him. And he knows that here you are just his friend.
“Yeah.” He says again standing up. “Let’s get out of here.”
The ride back to the motel is silent. Dean doesn’t put on any music, too afraid that it’ll remind him of the memory of you and him in the front seat while his son kicked against his hand. Instead, all he can think of was how happy he was in the other life, how in love with you he was-
Dean knew that it wasn’t just a fantasy, that he really is in love with you, but now after seeing how everything could be, it weighed on his chest. Each time you looked at him he wanted to pull you close to him, hug you, kiss you, but he knew you would pull away. Because this version of you was not his.
“I’m going to go to that diner on the corner. You guys want something?” Sam looks around the room expectantly, but Dean doesn’t look up from the carpet.
“Sure.” Dean hears you respond. “Maybe just a burger and a piece of pie. Preferably apple but I'll take cherry if they have it."
“Okay. Dean?” Sam asks again.
Dean shakes his head. He can’t eat. Not now.
Sam hesitates at the door worried. “Are you sure?”
“I don’t want anything.” Dean snaps.
“Yeesh don’t bite my head off.” Sam throws you a shrug before leaving.
Dean is aware that it’s just the two of you now, the memory of the two of you in bed surfaces making him tighten his grip on the edge of the blanket beneath him.
“Dean?” You whisper.
“What?” His voice comes out harsher than he means it to.
“What’s wrong? You can tell me.”
“Nothing is wrong.” But he can’t look at you, not when he knows he'll look up and you won't be pregnant and not when the other version of you still has a hold of his heart.
“Dean you’re my best friend I know when something’s wrong. Plus you haven’t been able to look at me since you woke up and you never say no to food.”
“I’m fine.”
“Dean-“
“Just leave me alone damnit!” He snaps at you, able to raise his gaze from the floor for one second. Dean immediately feels bad, watching the pain in your eyes as he pushes you away. But he lowers his eyes to the carpet once more to avoid your gaze.
You sigh, but don’t get angry with him. “If you don’t want to tell me that’s fine. I'll just leave you alone then.”
And as soon as you leave to take a shower he feels the loss of you beside him.
He listens to the sound of the shower, feels the passing of time, but he does not move. The memories of the dream rise and fall, replacing the darkness of the hotel room with brilliant light. The memory of the sun catching your hair on fire as you laid next to him in bed tracing your fingertips along his jaw, the memory of you in the front seat of the Impala leaning against him and humming while you hold his hand, the memory of the party where he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you tightly into his chest, and finally the memory of the last kiss you shared in the front seat of the Impala each dance across his mind. He acutely feels the loss of your body against his, the loss of your lips, and finally the sound of your voice telling him you love him while his son kicked against his hand.
“Dean?”
He looks up at you. You look softer than you did. The blood is gone from your cheeks, your hair falls over your shoulders still wet from the shower, effortlessly beautiful, he decides. You’re wearing one of his old t-shirts that he gave you and a pair of sweatpants. It does something to him, watching you stand there in his shirt. It hangs past your waist like a dress, making you look smaller than you are. The smell of your shampoo wafts out of the bathroom, something familiar that makes his throat tight.
“You know when that Djinn got me a few months ago it threw me for a loop too.” You say softly leaning against the doorway of the bathroom. “Everything felt so real. It was hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t.”
Dean remembers when that happened. When you vanished out of the blue while checking out a case alone and he and Sam tore apart the small town looking for you. Dean remembers how worried he was, how desperate he was to find you.
I loved her then too. Dean realizes looking at you. How did I not know?
Dean remembers the aftermath, when you woke up and wouldn’t look at him. How your gaze was almost haunted and how he had to carry you out of there because you couldn’t move. He remembers you laying in bed and turning away from him and Sam when they had asked you what was wrong and the following day when you acted like nothing happened.
“What did it make you see?” Dean whispers, noting the way you shift back and forth on your feet. He hadn't seen you nervous before, seen you face down demons and vampires without batting an eye, but now you looked vulnerable.
You look down at your feet. “If I say it you can’t laugh.”
“I won’t.”
“Dean, I’m serious.”
“I promise I won’t laugh.” He watches the tension in your shoulders.
Why would she be afraid to tell me? We talk about everything.
“It was us.”
“What?” Shock tugs at his heart and for a second he thinks that he heard you wrong.
“It was us. We were married. We had 2 kids. My brother was still alive and my parents were talking to me again. I was happy there. It was hard to come back. Not that I’m not happy, but just that it’s hard to think you’ve lived a life that doesn’t exist. Especially one so different than all of this.” Dean watches you take in a deep breath, tapping your finger against your bicep, avoiding his eyes. “That was when I realized I was in love with you.”
Dean’s heart stops beating. “What did you just say-“
You look up and smile tightly. “It’s when I realized I was in love with you. That’s why I was so messed up. I didn't know how to-“
Sam chooses that exact moment to walk in loaded with bags of food. “What did I miss?”
“Nothing much.” Dean watches you easily shift your expression to hide what just happened, smiling at Sam as if you hadn’t said the one thing that Dean had been trying to say to you since he woke up. “Just trying to convince Dean to let me work on Baby. I think I’m wearing him down.”
Dean had never realized how much of a good liar you were until this moment, sure he had seen you pretend to be a government agent, but this was different.
“Like that’ll happen.” Sam hands you a bag of food before turning to look at Dean. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Dean watches you pull out the burger, stunned by your confession.
You place the burger next to him on the bed. “Eat this. It’ll help.”
“But-“ He looks up at you, wanting to finish the conversation.
“I promise I’m not that hungry Dean. I’d rather have the pie. Unless you’re going to fight me for it?” You smile raising an eyebrow.
Dean doesn’t understand why you’re acting like you didn’t just say you were in love with him. He gazes at you, searching your face. For a second he sees the mask slip, but before he can comment it’s gone.
“No I won’t.” He whispers.
“Good.” You turn to the made-up pull out couch and fold your legs underneath you with the slice of pie balanced on your knee, before reaching into your bag for a worn paper back.
Dean sits there watching you turn the pages. She loves me. The memory of you in his dream in the front seat of the Impala whispering it to him doesn’t hold the same weight because now all he can hear is you saying it here, now.
Dean can’t move. He wished Sam would leave again. He wished Sam would leave so he could bring you into his chest and kiss you, so he could tell you the one thing he wished he said ages ago.
But he doesn't. All he does is sit there and watch you read.
*********************************************
A few hours after Sam and you have fallen asleep Dean lays in his bed and stares up at the ceiling. He can hear your soft breaths against the pillow, the crinkle of the sheets as you move in your sleep. Usually he allowed himself to fall asleep listening to you, but tonight all it did was keep him awake. Each time he shut his eyes he saw the memory of you in bed with him burning against his eyelids and each time he shut his eyes he heard the real you telling him that you loved him.
Finally, he can't take it anymore.
Dean gets up and makes his way over to the pull-out couch, pausing once to move the paperback book out from under your head. It wasn't the first time that you'd fallen asleep reading, and Dean thought it was cute.
He slides into the bed behind you, gently touching your shoulder to wake you as quietly as possible.
"Hmm." You inhale softly.
"Y/n." Dean whispers.
He watches you turn towards him, eyes blinking in the darkness to rouse yourself from sleep. You hair is flared out over the pillows, eyes hazy. “Dean what are you-“
Dean moves his arm to your waist before pulling you flush into his chest, lips finding yours. The memories of the kiss in his dream are everywhere, but none of them compare to this. You sigh into his mouth, bringing your hands into his hair. Dean breathes you in. You still taste like apple pie, body soft against his, lips smooth and welcoming.
“I love you too.” He whispers against your mouth, eyes finding yours in the darkness of the hotel room.
Your smile breaks him. “It made you see us didn’t it?”
“How did you know?”
“The way you looked when you came out. The way you looked at me. I think it’s the same way I looked at you when I woke up." You brush back his hair and Dean can't help but lean forward into your touch. "What did it make you see?"
“We were married. You were pregnant and I was working at a garage. My parents were alive. Jessica was alive-“
“Oh Dean.” You cup his cheeks with a sorrowful expression, before brushing your lips against his. “I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter now.” Dean brings you into his chest, laying on his back so you can rest your head on his heart. His hand slowly traces up and down your spine. You both lie there for a few moments. The subtle beat of your heart soothing the sadness that rises with the memory of his mother and father. Your hand gently rests against his shirt, fingers curling into the soft fabric.
“I missed you.” He hears you whisper into his chest.
“What?” Dean doesn't understand. "Where did I go?"
“Not like that. I know that it sounds stupid, but we were so happy in the dream. It made me miss you, miss this.” He feels you rub your face into the front of his shirt.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Dean you’re my best friend. I didn’t want to lose any of this.” You prop yourself up look him in the eye. “I’m happy here with you and Sam. Y’all are my family and I didn’t want to jeopardize that just because I’m in love with you.”
“Did you think I would have made you leave if you told me that?” Dean can’t help but feel hurt. Sure it would have been awkward for a little bit, but I’d never do that to y/n.
“Not made me leave, more phase me out. It would have made all of this awkward and-“ He watches the weight settle on your shoulders as you press your forehead into the space between his collar bone and neck. “I’ve lost so many things. I didn’t want to lose you.”
Dean squeezes you to him. “You’re not going to lose me sweetheart.” He traces a fingertip under your chin to raise your face to his. “I love you. And even if I didn’t, you’re my family too. I wouldn’t make you leave just because it was a little awkward. We’ve all been through too much together for that.” Dean’s thumb rubs soft circles against your cheek.
“I love you too.” You whisper, the soft smile gracing your lips mirrors the memory from the dream, but this time it fills him with warmth and comfort, because this time he knows it’s real. It's not some Djinn messing with his head, it's you. You lean upwards to kiss him gently, while Dean weaves his hand through you hair to secure you to him.
But then you pull away, your smile slipping into a smirk. “So when you say family, are you saying you see me as a sister or a cousin? Because, I don’t know how things are in Kansas, but where I'm from, that's kind of a red flag.“
Dean sighs loudly. Before he rolls you over and pins you to the bed, pressing his lips against yours in a searing kiss.
“Oh. So as a sister-“ You joke.
“You are one of the most annoying people on the planet.”
“I know. It’s why you love me.” You trace his lips with your index finger, gazing up at him the same way the dream version of you did.
Dean feels warmth trail behind your touch. “One of the reasons at least.”
But just as he leans to kiss you again-
“If you guys don’t shut up I’m not going to get any sleep.” Sam grumbles from his bed. “I could have told you two idiots, that you loved one another and it would have taken five seconds.”
“You don’t have to eavesdrop-“ You say glaring over in the direction of Sam’s bed.
“Kinda hard not to when you guys are making out. LOUDLY. I might add.”
“Gonna have to get used to it Sammy.” Dean snorts, before pushing your hair back behind your ear and drawing your gaze back to his face.
“Next time you guys are getting your own room.” Sam continues. “That way I can get some sleep.”
“Doesn’t seem very economical.” You say, but you’re gazing up at Dean again with the smile that makes him feel like he’d swallowed the sun. “I love you.” Your voice is barely a whisper.
“I love you too.” Dean leans down once more to capture your lips against his, erasing all semblance of everything else, except the feel of your body beneath him and the warmth that surges with each breath as the dream of you becomes a reality.
*********************************************
Thank you so much for reading!
#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester fluff#dean winchester fic#dean winchester x you#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester#supernatural#spn#supernatural fic#supernatural fanfic#supernatural fluff#spn fanfiction#supernatural fanfiction#dean x reader#sam winchester
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bad ideas (and good results)
pairings: aaron hotchner x reader, sort of spencer reid x reader
summary: after aaron’s rejection, you enlist spencer’s help to make him jealous.
word count: 4.2k
warnings: reader putting on a naked show, airplane turbulence, reid calling reader out for daddy issues
a/n: accidentally put too much spencer in this whoops
You couldn’t take it anymore.
The tension between the two of you was so palpable you were practically choking on it. You couldn’t be alone in a room with him without resisting the urge to throw yourself at him. Even with others around, you still had to peel off your drenched panties when you got home and take a cold shower.
And you knew he felt the same, though he wasn’t as obvious about how it affected him. The team had commented how you were his soft spot, always assigning you to him on cases (when you were newer, you had brushed the thought aside, thinking he wanted to watch over you and evaluate your work), getting your favorite coffee every morning and even putting his jacket around you when you’d been soaked in lake water after catching the unsub.
So when you decided to take the leap and ask him if he wanted to have dinner, you weren’t expecting him to reject you so blatantly. Just a flat-out no. Didn’t even try cushioning the blow.
You still couldn’t erase his expression from your memories as he told you he didn’t like you in that way. Confused at the time, you had stood there dumbfounded by what he was saying. Walking out of his office and heading home was a blur and you wondered if you had imagined his previous actions.
Sitting on your couch with a bottle of wine in hand, you thought about your interactions. Surely you didn’t imagine the way he looked at you on those nights you stayed late to help him with paperwork? Or the way he had comforted you after an unsub had harassed you mercilessly during an interrogation. Or when you had to share that hotel room in Alaska and sleep in the same bed for “warmth.”
After an hour of watching The Wedding Date, you had got an idea that was so delusional it might work. Calling Spencer in the wee hours of the night had him pick up the phone after the second ring, concerned it was an emergency. In a way it was, and he had gotten to your apartment in record time.
He had barely knocked on the door when you swung it open, grabbing by the arm and practically dragging him and his Jesus haircut inside. Spencer raised an eyebrow at your excitement, glancing at the state of your apartment as you drag him to the couch.
“What’s going on? Why’d you need me to come at,” he checks his watch. “Eleven thirty-seven at night?”
You sighed, pushing him to sit on the couch and grabbing the remote. “I kind of asked Hotch out. And before you congratulate me for making the first move, he doesn’t feel the same and basically told me he found me ugly and disgusting.”
Spencer gave you a skeptical look. “He did not say that.”
“Whatever, it was implied,” you reply and Boy Genius gives out a snort at your dramatics. “Anyways, I was watching The Wedding Date when I got this idea … In the movie, this girl hires an escort to be her date to her sister’s wedding because her ex is going to be there. And I was thinking …”
“Go on.” he encourages.
Spencer was the only one to know about your crush on Aaron. The others, especially the girls, had a suspicion you did but Spencer was the one you spilled all your information to. Mostly because he was the first to catch you making eyes at your boss and the closest in age to you. He had listened to the details of your days with Aaron, sometimes debriefing you on how Aaron had interacted with you, the words he had said about you, or the way his body language gave him away. You had eaten up everything he had said in the hopes it had been true.
He was also the only one you could go to with this plan. Derek would’ve had you relayed all the details of your crush to him before agreeing and you didn’t want to tell him he had been right about your crush. You’d have rather died than have Derek Morgan know he was right. Spencer was sweet and attractive, and despite your taste for older men than the doctor, it would be believable considering how much time you spend with each other outside of work.
“I was thinking that we fake date to make Hotch jealous.” you finish, slightly grimacing at how stupid the plan was now that you said it out loud. Before Spencer could reply, you jumped in. “I know it probably won’t make him jealous considering he doesn’t like me that way but on the off chance that it does–I kind of want him to hurt a fraction of what I had tonight. And you probably think the plan is idiotic and pathetic–”
“Alright,” he said, cutting off your rambling. When you raise an eyebrow, he lifts a shoulder. “I don’t think it's idiotic or pathetic. I think we should do it.”
It took you a few seconds to process his words. “Really?”
Spencer nods, giving you a small smile. “Yes, I would do anything for you. Besides, it would be a good experiment and I love experiments.”
You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Of course you do.”
“So how is this fake dating thing going to work?”
You spend a good half hour talking about the parameters of the plan. Both of you had decided it was best to keep it subtle instead of announcing to the team you were “seeing” each other. Neither of you would confirm it and if asked, you’d redirect the topic somewhat noticeably so whoever had asked would be able to pick up on it.
Spencer surprised you when he came up with the idea for small touches and light flirting. When you had given him a look, he was quick to explain his idea. Obviously, you had to be affectionate towards each other in front of the team and especially Aaron, but not so much that it qualified as PDA.
The smart doctor had proposed small touches like lingering fingers, a hand on a shoulder (you pointed out you did this with him quite often and he argued it would only make more sense to keep doing it), hair ruffling (again you told him you’ve done this to him and he admitted he liked getting his hair played a certain way), and hand squeezes.
You waited for the shock on Spencer’s face when you wondered out loud if it was effective for you to “sneak” into his hotel room during a case and have a member of the team see you going into his room so they could relay what they saw to the others; instead, you were met with an intuitive hum of agreement.
By the time you’d gotten done with planning, it was ten minutes past midnight and Spencer was yawning every few minutes. And while his apartment was only about ten blocks from yours, you offered for him to stay the night with the promise to stop at his place before work for him to get a change of clothes. He accepted and both of you had fallen asleep in the living room while the credits of the movie played in the background.
In the morning, you came to the realization that the wine you had drank had caused you to oversleep, and keeping Spencer up past midnight had also caused him to wake up about half an hour later than usual. You slapped him awake with a pillow before rushing to get ready.
Spencer had been half asleep as he got in your car but after a near-death experience with a semi, he had woken up and clutched his seatbelt all the way to work. As you entered the building, you were rolling your eyes as he mumbled how you were more of a reckless driver than Derek–impossible–and how he feared for his life whenever you were in the driver’s seat.
As soon as you pushed through the glass doors, Emily noticed something different. You placed your stuff on your desk, plopping down on your chair when she sits on your desk, glancing between you and Spencer, eyebrows raised.
“Reid, are you wearing the same sweater from yesterday?” she questioned, and your ears perked up at her words.
Your eyes flicker to Spencer’s outfit. With your lateness, you weren’t able to stop at Spencer’s place and he had assured you he could change into something from his go bag. He was in the midst of picking up the duffel when Emily commented on his fashion sense. You gave him a look to play along but he was looking down at his outfit to notice.
He tilted his head, nodding. “Yeah, we woke up late this morning.”
You’ve never seen Emily’s head turn so fast–you were worried she had accidentally snapped her own neck. The brunette smirked at you before turning back to Spencer. “We?”
Spencer looked up, eyes finally meeting yours. His eyes flickered with recognition and took the opportunity to start your idea. His slight blush was the cherry on top. “What?”
Emily’s smirk grew, and she looked like a cat that swallowed a canary. She turned to you, giving you the look she’d make when a guy would flirt with you during a girl’s night out. “So … what’d you do last night?”
You couldn’t help but grin at her nosiness. “Work. Long, hard work.”
“Yeah, I bet.” she chuckled, side-eyeing Spencer. “The work definitely looks hard when you’re doing it.”
The water you sipped trickled out of your mouth at the innuendo, and you furiously wiped your chin. Emily cackled at her own joke, drawing JJ’s attention from nearby. You try to ignore her, gently pushing her off your desk, mumbling about having to do work, but it only makes her gasp for breath.
JJ sauntered over to your desk, curious at whatever made Emily cackle like the green witch from the Kansas movie. “What’s going on here?”
Emily leans over to whisper in her ear before pointing at Spencer who had taken his go-bag along with him to the bathroom. JJ adopts Emily’s smirk, sharing a look with the brunette before glancing between you and the men’s bathroom.
The blonde pulls up a chair next to yours, the girls surrounding your desks. JJ leans in close, grinning mad wildly at you. “I thought you liked Hotch, not Spence.”
You rolled your eyes, pretending to be annoyed by the whole thing while you smiled internally. “I don’t like either of them, beyond friends. … Stop looking at me like that!”
“Clearly you like Reid more than that if you guys spent the night together.” Emily wiggled her brows, earning another chuckle from JJ. She yelped at the small smack you gave her on the arm.
“We didn’t spend the night together.” you hissed, keeping your voice low. How you would’ve loved to show Rossi your performance right now after he commented you were a terrible liar. “We were doing paperwork together and we fell asleep because it was late and so we woke up late.”
The girls gave each other a look, nodding at you, clearly not believing the semi-lie you told. (Did it count as a lie if you told them the half-truth but in a way that was unconvincing?)
“Uh-huh.”
“Of course. It makes perfect sense.”
“Yeah, especially if you guys were up late. It’s only reasonable that he stayed the night.”
“Mm-hm. You guys were probably so tired you didn’t do anything before sleeping.”
The sarcasm was leaking from their voices, practically dripping on the floor. You didn’t know how to answer their cryptic responses, covering your smile with a hand. You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped your lips. Despite Aaron’s harsh rejection not even twelve hours ago, you were feeling better.
Thankfully, you were saved from coming up with a reply when Penelope came in the room with a case file in her hands, gesturing towards the briefing room. Unfortunately, JJ and Emily’s amusement was so obvious, Penelope was able to pick up on the brewing gossip from just the look on their smug faces.
You passed her on the way up the stairs, giving her a small smile as she stayed back to get the information from JJ and Emily. You rolled your eyes when you heard the technical analysis gasp, walking to the briefing room faster.
While you temporarily escaped Penelope’s wave of questions upon entering the briefing room, you were met with the presence of the man your bones–and pussy–ached for. You avoided looking in his general direction as you sat next to Derek.
He turned to you as the girls entered the room, smiling. “Damn Mama, you look tired. What’d you do last night?”
And as if on cue, Spencer sat down in the empty chair on the other side of you, causing Emily to burst out laughing. The guys turned to look at her, confused by her reaction to Spencer’s timed action. She waved away their confusion, hiding behind her iPad, pretending to study the case all the while her shoulders shook from silent laughter.
Penelope had her eyes set on you and Spencer, giving you a look that read she wanted all the details directly from you. Saving you from having to explain Emily’s reaction, Penelope started the briefing, pulling everyone’s attention from you and Spencer to the serial killer running around Los Angeles.
It was easy to ignore Aaron’s stares through the briefing, too focused on the case details to give him attention but that couldn’t be said on the plane, especially when he walked up behind you on the steps. Your eyes met his and it felt like your nerves told your brain it was a fight or flight situation, causing you to internally panic.
You more or so sprinted up steps and into the plane, inadvertently sitting down next to the man half your coworkers suspected you were hooking up with. While it wasn’t unusual for you to sit next to anyone on the team, your normal spot had been right beside Aaron, the window seat while he took up the aisle seat. So accidentally sitting next to Spencer had caused Emily and JJ to share a glance with each other.
After Aaron had given the team details on what they were supposed to do–thankfully he had partnered you up with Rossi instead of himself–your phone buzzed relentlessly as Penelope texted you asking for details about your new paramour. Said paramour was peeking over your shoulder to read the numerous Penelope had sent.
After a second of them being left unanswered, she called you, her name popping up on your phone. You playfully glared at Emily and JJ before getting up and answering the call.
“Yes, baby girl?” you cooed, pushing the curtains aside to get a cup of coffee. “What can I help you with?”
“You and Reid?!” her voice was so loud you flinched as it hit your eardrum. “I thought you liked Hotch!”
“I don’t like either of them.” you sighed, heart pounding at the lie. Even just hearing his name had caused your body to tense, and you were sure there was a patch of wetness on your underwear. “And Spence and I are just friends.”
“JJ told me you guys spent the night together,” she replied, and you could practically hear her brain cogs working overtime. “As in doing intimate, not-suitable-for-work stuff.”
“No funny business, I swear,” you mutter, hissing when you spill coffee on yourself.
“Please don’t lie to me,” begged Penelope. “You can tell me anything, you know that. And you don’t have to be ashamed that you like Spencer, he’s cute in a nerdy way! You guys would make a great couple–”
Spencer pushed through the curtains, and it was as if Penelope sensed him through the phone because she went silent. Boy genius reached over you to grab a plastic cup from the counter, pouring his own coffee.
“Is that Garcia?” he asked, motioning to the phone. You nodded, smiling at the nearly inaudible hitch of Penelope’s breath. He chuckled, moving a tad closer to the speaker. “Hi, Garcia.”
Before she could reply, you intervened. “Bye Pen.”
You hung up, sighing. Taking a sip of coffee, you leaned against the small counter. “Not gonna lie, I didn’t think our plan would progress so fast. Do you think it makes it look less believable?”
“I don’t think so. If anything, it just made it more so,” said Spencer, mirroring your actions. “It’s very realistic friends would hook up when the situation pushes them to like working late nights, watching movies, or going to chess tournaments together.”
Giving him a blank look, you slurped your coffee rather loudly.
He cleared his throat, feeling awkward. “Anyways, the only thing people may not believe is that I was able to … get you.”
“That’s insane. Why don’t you think you could pull me?”
Spencer blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just that I’m me and you’re … you. It’s kind of obvious you’re out of my league. I mean you’re very pretty and you could get any guy and honestly, I find it hard to believe Hotch would turn you down–”
You grinned, interrupting his rambling. “Aww, Spence, you’re so sweet. But you underestimate yourself. You’re very cute and if I wasn’t attracted to men twenty years older than me, then I would’ve gone for you.”
“Have you ever wondered if your attraction to much older men is caused by your daddy issues?” he blurted.
The plane lurched to the side, bringing Spencer to pin you against the counter, a hand placed on the counter to keep himself from falling right into you as the plane stabilized. Fortunately, Spencer’s coffee had spilled on the floor instead of either of you. Unfortunately (or fortunately), Aaron had chosen that moment to walk into your little space.
You and Spencer freeze in place as your boss–and the object of your desires–catches you in a position that would’ve had Penelope screaming from excitement. Spencer's free hand was on the counter, trapping you in between. His torso touched yours, your breast pressing up against his chest and your right hand was on his shoulder to stop him from crushing you during the turbulence.
Aaron’s eyes narrowed at the contact and the lack of space between you and Spencer. Both of you immediately sprung into action, Spencer taking a step back while you slid to your left, trying to put more space between you both.
While you were internally celebrating Aaron’s almost-jealous expression, you were more embarrassed at what he must be thinking. You didn’t plan to be so outward with Spencer, after all, you both agreed on only subtle touches, not pressed up against each other in a public space.
“Are you two alright?” Aaron questioned, eyes darting between you and Spencer.
You didn’t want to be delusional and lie to yourself but the vein on Aaron’s neck was bulging, a thing that only happened when he felt stressed or angry. You must’ve smiled subconsciously because he stared at you, brows furrowed.
“Yeah, the turbulence just caught us by surprise,” you reply, motioning to the coffee-stained floor. You stepped around him, shoulder brushing up against his arm. The curtains parted and you backed out. “I’m gonna head back.”
You don���t miss the way his eyes linger as you walk back.
By the time you head back to the hotel, you’re grumpy and sticky from sweat. Throughout the day, everyone has heard you moan and groan about the heat. By now, the team has figured out you’d rather freeze to death than heat.
The AC at the police station could only do so much when the temperature outside was over one hundred degrees. Rossi fanning you while you checked out the crime scene hadn’t helped and when you got back to the station, you begged Aaron to let you stay inside, breaking that awkward tension between the both of you through your hatred of heat.
Not that the tension hadn’t grown whenever Spencer and you were in the same room. Aaron would send him out to look at the body or interview close friends but as soon as he came back to the station, Aaron would find some excuse to send him back out, not giving you two the opportunity to work the plan. Not that you cared that much, you were too busy melting.
When everyone got to the hotel, Aaron held out four keys, and the team groaned. You’d have to share.
JJ snatched a key from Aaron’s hand. “Me and Em will share.”
“I’m not sharing a room with Reid, again,” Derek announced, crossing his arms. A confused Spencer tilted his head at him, a little hurt at the comment.
JJ smiled, handing Spencer a key. “Spencer can share with his friend.”
You glared at JJ, and she threw you another smug smile. Emily snorted, faking a cough when Rossi turned to look at her. Turning to Spencer, you nodded. “Yeah, we can share.”
“Actually,” objected Aaron, eyes never leaving you. “It’s Reid’s turn to have a room to himself.”
Derek looked at him, confused. “No, it isn’t. He had a room to himself in Alaska, it’s my turn actually–”
“Morgan, you can share with Rossi,” Aaron said with finality, giving him a key. He looked at you once again. “I’ll share a room with you.”
You knew the plan had worked but you were too exhausted and sticky to be happy about it. Not that you hadn’t wanted to share a room with him again, but all you could think about was taking a cold shower and hopefully freezing your entire body to the point where you stay cold all throughout the case.
The team dispersed. Aaron and your room was on the third floor while the rest stayed on the first. He carried your duffel bag, and you didn’t bother fighting him like you usually had. The elevator ride up was awkward and you wished he could make up his mind on whether he wanted you or not.
As soon as he unlocked the door, you rushed into the bathroom and turned on the shower, setting the temperature to cold. You snatched your bag from his shoulder and ran back to the bathroom, peeling off your work clothes. A moan slips out as the cold water hits your skin, and for the entirety of the shower, you forget about the man behind the door.
Exiting the shower, you notice you haven't shut the bathroom door completely. The tiny crack allowed you to see Aaron sitting at the table, staring at the file in front of him. If you could see him, he could probably see you.
This is fucking crazy.
Maybe it was a breeze from the vent or maybe you mastered some form of telekinesis but the door cracked open further, about four inches wide now. You don’t make a move to close it.
Heart pounding, you dry yourself, turning away from the door as you bend over to dry your legs. The vent was the only noise you hear as you do so. You’re about to cave and shut the door but you feel eyes on you as you stand up straight.
You don’t turn around. Confidence grows as you take your time drying your hair with the towel, sometimes running a hand through it to separate the wet and semi-dry strands. The reality of the situation finally dawns on you when you squeeze the remaining water out of your hair.
Growing wet at the thought of Aaron watching you, nakedly drying yourself, you can’t help but give him a small peek at what he was missing. You turn around, enough so he could see a glimpse of your pussy. No, you don’t look in his direction, but you can see him staring from your peripherals.
The door had cracked open further since you last saw it. There was no doubt he saw every inch of your backside as you hadn’t wrapped the towel around you once.
You let your hands squeeze your breasts once before bending down to grab a t-shirt from your go bag. It’s oversize, the hem falling just below your ass. Putting a pair of red panties on, you remember how much Aaron likes the color.
Once you’re done, you zipped up your bag and looked in the mirror. It’s obvious how free your breasts are under the shirt, your nipples peeking from the thin material. Reading the words on the shirt, you realize it was one of Spencer’s. You remember stealing it from his duffel after swimming into the lake to save an unsub.
Your lips twitched into a smirk. Opening the door, you were met with Aaron’s unrelenting stare, eyes drifting up and down your body. Not giving him the satisfaction, you ignore him, dropping your bag on your bed.
Wait.
Looking around the room, you notice just one bed.
Shit.
In your distracted haze about the one-bed problem, you failed to notice Aaron moving. A hand gripped your waist tightly, pulling you back towards a hard chest. You freeze, glancing behind you to see a heated Aaron. His lips graze your ear.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?”
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#hotch x reader#aaron hotchner fic
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hiiiiii~!
im addicted to historical manhwa so when I stumbled upon your whole Dukedom141 x Reader which btw I rly love so so much especially the baby longing part 🥺😩
anywayyy, I had this sudden imagines where dear Reader is a childhood bestie to the Crown Prince(who views him only platonically but prince were in romantically one-sided) 👀 ops drama
im rly craving for jealousy troupe bc of how rare they are in tf141xR. they weren't all together yet so how would dukedom141 react when they all saw how close, intimate ish the c. prince was to the reader? they cant do much bc well yea he's the prince of the kingdom, and they just feel/know the prince is in love w/ her too. how can they cope with it? what would their actions be? 🤔🤔 i kinda see the men were plastic fake smiles to the prince and then spoil reader w/ their love languages instead to erase any thoughts of the flirty things the prince did from her mind and just confused why the sudden extra attention to her lmaoo 🤭 but opcorss will love to read your take in this!
if ur free to do this prompt fic, sending my love to you in advance! 😗👉🏻💝💖💗💓💞💕
Sorry for the long wait! I hope you enjoy this <33
Dukedom au masterlist
Price clenched his jaw, his grip tightening on his glass of brandy as he tried- tried- not to let the Crown Prince’s laugh, so carefree and loud, set his teeth further on edge. The Prince’s hand had lingered far too long against the small of your back when he guided you through the ballroom earlier. And now? Now, Price had to sit back and watch as the Prince leaned far too close, his eyes dancing with mischief as he whispered something that had you giggling behind your gloved hand.
“Does he always look at her like that?” Simon’s voice was low, but the tension was evident, nearly vibrating out of him. He stood beside Price, posture rigid, hands clasped behind his back as if that might keep him from marching over and physically removing the man from your side.
“He’s always been like this with her,” John grunted, taking a sip of his drink. It didn’t help ease the sharp taste of bitterness on his tongue. “Childhood friends, they are. Grew up together in the capital.”
“Friends.” Simon scoffed, his eyes following the Prince’s every movement as he twirled you around on the dance floor, his grip firm but tender on your waist. “He’s in love with her. Anyone can see that.”
“Don’t you think I already know that?” John growled under his breath.
You laughed again, your head tilting back, and the sound carried through the grand hall like music. It wasn’t that John and Simon weren’t used to your laughter- it was the way the Prince seemed to be the one causing it, soaking in every moment as if it were his lifeline.
“Can’t do a bloody thing about it either, not in public,” Simon muttered darkly.
They both knew it. The Crown Prince was untouchable, politically and socially. They couldn’t just step in without causing offense or worse- humiliating you.
So instead, they forced themselves to endure it. Forced themselves to wear the kind of smiles that barely reached their eyes when you and the Prince eventually approached, your grin widened with exertion from the dancing.
“My dukes,” the Prince greeted, eyes gleaming. “I hope you don’t mind that I stole your lovely Duchess for a few dances. She’s quite the partner- though I’m sure you already knew that.”
Price smiled. It was tight, controlled. “We’re honored by your attention, Your Highness.”
Simon, however, simply gave a low hum, eyes never leaving the Prince’s hand as it trailed lightly down your arm before he finally let go.
Neither of them could do more than stand there as the Prince leaned in to kiss the back of your hand before excusing himself, promising another dance later in the evening.
The second he was gone, however, Simon leaned down to whisper in your ear. “You’re dancing with me next.”
And John? John was already mentally drafting plans to ensure the Prince’s next visit would be delayed indefinitely.
The Price Duchy was alive with movement and excitement during the Crown Prince’s unexpected visit. Servants bustled, maids rushed to prepare the best rooms, and Kyle and Johnny… well, Kyle and Johnny were trying their damned hardest not to glare daggers at the man who seemed to think it was his home.
“God, look at him.” Johnny hissed as they stood just outside the parlor doors, peeking in through the gap to where the Prince sat beside you. He was leaning in, speaking softly enough that Johnny couldn’t make out the words, but he could see the way your eyes flitted about, bashful and happy.
“He’s too close.” Kyle muttered, his grip tightening around the tray he held.
Your hand rested lightly on the Prince’s arm, your expression warm and relaxed as you laughed at something he said. It wasn’t fair how easy it was for him to make you laugh.
“He’s enjoying this too much,” Johnny said, voice dark and low. “Thinks he can just waltz in here and take all her attention?”
Kyle gave him a side glance. “Don’t let the Duke hear you say that. He’s already half-ready to call off trade agreements if it’d mean keeping him away.”
The Prince leaned closer again, face soft and hands gentle for you, and Johnny had to bite down a curse.
They weren’t allowed to do anything about it- not when it was the bloody Prince himself. But they could fix it.
That evening, they wasted no time executing their plan.
Kyle practically hovered as you settled into the sitting room with your embroidery, immediately offering to fetch you tea and desserts- all your favorites. Johnny sat himself down beside you, offering to entertain you with far better stories than that Prince could ever hope to know.
When you smiled, they felt victorious.
When you sighed in delight over the sweets and laughed over Johnny’s tales, they felt invincible.
Neither mentioned the Prince at all, and neither gave you any opportunity to dwell on his visit. Instead, they drowned you in their attention, making you laugh until your sides ached, ensuring your mind was too full of their affections to even think about whatever flirty nonsense the Prince had whispered earlier.
By the end of the night, when they escorted you to your chambers and bid you goodnight with lingering touches to your hands and cheeks, both Kyle and Johnny felt a smug sense of satisfaction.
Because you were theirs, and no prince- no matter how charming or influential- would ever change that.
#noona.asks#noona.writes#cod x reader#cod x you#cod#tf 141 x reader#tf 141 x you#tf 141#cod imagines#john price x reader#poly 141 x you#poly!141 x reader#poly 141 x reader#poly!141#poly 141#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#soap x reader#simon ghost riley x you#gaz x reader#ghost x you#johnny soap mctavish x reader#kyle gaz garrick x you#soap x you#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x you#johnny soap mctavish x you#john price x you
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hii! I was wondering if you could write something about James meeting reader for the first time when he finds her crying at a party or something? and just takes the time to comfort her and get to know her?
Idk that idea just came to me and I think it’s so sweet and adorable 😭🙏🏼
Thank you for requesting lovely!
cw: alcohol
James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words
You thought you came in here to be alone, but it’s just like a boy to come and ruin your plans. And just like James Potter to be drawn to the sound of your weeping like a superhero towards sirens.
“Hello?” You cover your mouth with a hand as the bedroom door creaks open. “Is someone in here?”
You recognize the voice even robbed of its usual levity, cautiously softened for your benefit. Your stilted breaths continue puffing out of your nose despite your attempts to be quiet, and James’ footsteps come closer to your hiding spot.
“Hey,” he says, crouching in front of you, “you alright?”
“Mm-hm,” you hum pitchily. Your shoulders shake silently as tears continue gushing out of you.
James’ forehead creases. “What’s wrong, love?”
Your bottom lip wobbles at his concern, but you stay strong. “Nothing.” You wipe your cheek with the butt of your palm. “M’fine.”
“Well, that’s good to hear.” He offers you a smile. The effect, you know, is dizzying when you’re sober, so you’re not too frightened when it works the same now. “Would you like a tissue?”
You nod, and James reaches for the nightstand behind you. He pulls open the top drawer, one hand protecting your head from bumping into it, and procures a box of tissues. You take it from him, holding it in your lap.
“How did you know where to find that?”
“This is my best mate’s room,” he says. “Sirius. I’m James, by the way.”
You blow your nose. “I know. I know who Sirius is, too.”
“Yeah?” James grins. You fold the tissue and start wiping under your eyes. It does nothing to erase the mascara tracks already running down to your chin, but James doesn’t think telling you that will help anything. “He’ll be happy to hear that. I know you, too, though I don’t think we’ve had the chance to speak before.”
“Sorry,” you say, patting the floor beside you for your drink. James subtly moves it beneath the bed. “I’m usually better to be around, I think.”
“I don’t know,” he replies, “I’m having a good time hanging out with you.”
You snort. “You must have a low bar.”
James’ eyebrows raise, surprised mingled with amusement. “Can I ask you something?”
You’re feeling for your drink again, not having processed its absence. “Um, sure.”
“How’d you end up in here?”
Immediately, your doleful mood returns. “Kayla’s mad at me.”
“Kayla Chapman?” James tries to catch your gaze again as you nod at the floor. “Why’s that, darling?”
“Sh—she—” Your lip wobbles again. When you don’t take a new tissue yourself James does it for you, pressing it into your hand. “We were together, and she was talking to this guy, and then she just disappeared,” you say while blowing your nose. “And she’d been drinking, so I was worried, you know?”
You look to James for approval, and he nods.
“Right, you didn’t want her to get taken advantage of.”
“Exactly! So I had to look for her forever, I was totally panicking, and when I found her I tried to ask if she was okay and she said—” your voice cracks “—I embarrassed her. She was s—so angry with me.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” James’ hand lands on your shoulder as you hunch over your lap. He rubs it consolingly. “I’m sure she’ll feel differently tomorrow. You were only trying to look out for her.”
“She won’t,” you cry, having long forgotten your reservations about doing so in front of James Potter. “And she was the only person I knew here, so now I’m all alone.”
“Well, that’s not true, is it?” He continues rubbing your shoulder steadily, as if comforting drunk girls at parties is something he does every night. It might be, you don’t know. “You know me.”
You sniffle. “I meant my only friend.”
“What, you don’t think of us as friends?” James sounds appalled. “I’m wounded, sweetheart. I thought we were getting in some quality bonding here.”
You miss the humor in his voice completely, looking up at him through still-glossy eyes. “Are we friends?”
“I’d like to be.”
“Why?”
James' expression does something funny. “Do you ask everyone who wants to be your friend that?” You tilt your head, unsure how to answer, but he goes on. “I like you. You try to keep your friends from being assaulted and you’re clearly conscious of your use of paper products—” You follow his gaze as he glances pointedly at the two tissues you’ve been folding to use over and over again “—what other qualities does a person need?”
Your lips quirk just a little. James’ smile blooms all over again for seeing it. “You’re really nice,” you tell him. “I mean, I knew you were, s’what everyone says, but it’s still good in person.”
A little laugh sputters out of him, but James doesn’t quite know how to respond to that.
“I’m tiresome,” you warn him gravely. “You’ll get sick of me.”
“I know we’ve only just met,” he replies, still smiling in that always-sunny way of his, “but I don’t really see that happening. I’ll be sure to let you know if it does.” He regards you for a moment. Your face is a mostly dried-up watershed of makeup and snot, collecting to a point around your chin, but James is happy to note no fresh tears seem prepared to spill. “Would it make you feel any better if we cleaned your face up a bit?”
You blink and touch your fingertips to your face, brow scrunching when they come away sooty. “Oh,” you say. “That would be nice.”
“I’ll be right back.”
James takes your drink with him, grateful you don’t seem to notice as he dumps what remains in Sirius’ sink and tosses the cup in the bin. When he returns with a washcloth dampened with warm water, you’ve leaned your head against the side of the mattress and are staring into the middle distance. You still look heart-wrenchingly sad. James wonders if your friend is anywhere near as inebriated as you, and whether she realized that by leaving with that guy she was leaving you like this. Whether it was really you who needed to be looking out for her or the other way around.
“Back.” His voice comes out quieter than he intends, reduced to nearly a whisper at the sight of your pensive state, but your eyes lift to his anyway. You raise your head as one corner of your mouth tilts upwards. It’s a greeting and, in James’ opinion, a decided improvement.
He squats in front of you, palming one side of your face. “Close your eyes.”
James has always made fun of Sirius for his “angsty towels,” but he sees their true purpose now; your makeup hardly shows on the dark material. He swipes it over your skin gently, extra careful around your eyes.
“This is really nice of you,” you say. James decides not to let you know you’ve already expressed this sentiment. “This is, like, best friend level of niceness.”
“Best friend,” he repeats, delighted. “Well, if I’d known I was going for the promotion, I would’ve gone above and beyond. Lavender oils on the washcloth and everything.”
“Mm, you earned it on your own, though.”
James grins. Your eyes are closed, but you’re smiling too.
#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter x self insert#james potter fanfiction#james potter fanfic#james potter fic#james potter hurt/comfort#james potter fluff#james potter imagine#james potter drabble#james potter scenario#james potter blurb#james potter oneshot#james potter one shot#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders#hp marauders#marauders era#marauders x reader#tw alcohol
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the way i have this whole story for gravity falls (stan x reader x ford) and am so tempted to write it but i need to finish my other wips
so i'll just dump it out here (some of this is also somewhat inspired by the swooning over stans dating sim)
edit: i ended up making it! interested in reading? click here for the masterlist.
-
pretty much the premise is that you are dating ford during the time that he's deep into his research into gravity falls. you become uncomfortable seeing how bill takes over his body and the havoc bill causes when he's in ford's body and after seeing what happened to fiddleford when entering the portal, give him an ultimatum: cut ties with bill or you're done.
of course, ford chooses his research. ford chooses bill.
you can't get over him, and after countless nights of tears, you appeal to fiddleford to let you use his memory gun to erase the memory of ford from your mind.
and he does.
you move back home, confused on how you ended up in a small town in oregon but fiddleford makes up a story, saying you were an old friend, visiting him while he was doing research. you lead a normal life free of the paranormal for many years. you sometimes have dreams, visions of a face that should be familiar but you can't seem to make it out.
planning out a roadtrip through the pacific northwest, you find yourself in explicably drawn to the town of gravity falls and figure you might as well check it out since it's on the way through your drive up to washington, you figure why not.
your car ends up dying on you, the battery giving out almost five miles out of town. as you're on the phone trying to map to the nearest towing company, a gruff voice calls out, asking if you need a hand.
you look up to see stan, his window rolled down and his arm dangling out the side of the car.
why does he look familiar? you think to yourself as you put down your phone.
"yeah if you have jumper cables, i just need to get my car running to get to the next town and hopefully get a replacement battery." you say.
"of course, i have jumper cables, kid - look at my car, you think i haven't been stranded out here myself." stan chuckles, making a effortless u turn with one hand before pulling his car close to yours.
you pop the hood of your car, giving stan access to hook up the jumper cables. you both stand in silence while stan attaches the cables to your car before stan's voice cuts through, "so uh, what brings you out here? you just driving through?"
you almost chuckle at his awkwardness, "sort of. i'm doing a whole road trip through the pacific northwest. i was gonna check out this town ahead, gravity falls."
stan blinks, expecting you to just be passing through the town. his lips spread into a grin, pulling out a business card from his leather jacket. "well, if you're stopping by, you gotta check out the mystery shack! one stop shop for mysterious oddities!"
you take the business card with a giant question mark on the front. you look up at stan, almost feeling like this is a con but as your car starts up to life, you figure you might as well check out what sounds like a tourist trap to appease the man who just helped you.
after driving your car to the mystery shack, you get a tour from stan himself, who shares that he used to be the former owner. as you walk around the building, it almost feels like home, like you've been here before.
talk about deja vu.
little did you know that you would run into the man that you once loved as you rounded the corner, finishing the tour. ford was outside fiddling with a new device with his back turned to you and stan elbows you in the arm, "that's my poindexter brother, ford. he's always working on a some geeky invention."
"you know i can hear you, stanley?" ford sighs, turning around to face you two.
he freezes, seeing the woman that left him all those years ago. "y/n?" he calls out to you.
you blink, stan staring at the two of you in confusion and you tilt your head, confused yourself, "sorry... have we met before? how do you know my name?"
#gravity falls#stanford pines#stanley pines#gravity falls fanfiction#stanford x reader#stanley pines x reader#gravity falls x reader
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𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐅𝐥𝐲
Summary: Tyler’s always wanted to show you something he loved—it just took some bad weather for it to appear. [Tyler Owens x Reader] [WC:2.6k}
Warnings: language, college-aged Tyler & reader, fluff, romance, this is a comedy? Idk folks. No smut though—sry :/. Just good ole fashion kissin’ in the rain. And what if I said this story was my real life experience, then what?
Quick Links: Masterlist [including other twisters fics]
“Where are we going?”
The tires of the truck were clunking along the rocky path to… well, nowhere. Thick trees surrounded you; the sun barely peeking through them as it began to decline in the sky and yet the truck kept tumbling along.
Shit. You thought for a brief moment as he didn’t reply. He might murder me.
“I told you,” his voice rang through your mind like a pinball machine. “It’s a surprise.”
“What if I said I didn’t like surprises?”
Tyler glanced at you as the truck hit a rough patch. Your hand was white-knuckling the grab handle above the window and your face was torn up in concern for the locale.
“I’d say, ‘honey’,” he put a hand on your clothed thigh. “I ain’t gonna murder you.”
“Well now that makes me think you are gonna murder me.”
Tyler laughed, squeezing your thigh joyously.
He was a maniac—Tyler Owens.
But he was also many things you did not know of yet. The first time you laid eyes on him was around eight months back when he walked in two minutes before the chemistry lecture. Every seat in the room was nearly filled except for the lone seat on the inside of the lecture hall beside you.
And when he sat there, you couldn’t focus on one goddamn thing.
It was silly—being twenty-one and having a crush on a guy in your science class. You weren’t in high school anymore but you sure as hell felt like it. When he asked for an eraser, you were too eager to provide it. One day he forgot his computer so he asked for some paper in the notebook you elected to use.
Each day you’d arrive a minute earlier than before with a childish hope that he would too and you’d be able to talk to him, learn about him. You weren’t in the same lab section so it was growing increasingly difficult to manifest a semblance of potential when it only occurred twice a week for an hour and fifteen minutes.
Fuck college schedules, is what you had concluded when he wouldn’t show up twenty minutes early to class.
Yet fate had a funny way of dictating what happens when.
Three months into class, your roommate suggested getting out and heading to a frat party one Saturday night and it shouldn’t have been a surprise to see him there. And out of some kindness, he went out of his way to say hi to his “lecture buddy” who’d helped him in times of need.
Every class that followed grew something in you. He came early to lecture to talk to you, joking about anything but the subject and going on and on about what he wanted to do when he graduated. His smile was contagious, as with his laugh. Bellowing and loud; Tyler Owens was everyone’s friend and everyone’s crush and you happened to be lucky enough to sit beside him until it was all over.
The semester ended and your interactions with Tyler ceased.
And it made you feel a little crazy for feeling down and out about your luck. Your roommates and friends tried everything to get you on the market: going to parties, joining strange clubs, playing trivia at the bar on Wednesday nights but nothing.
It was all nothing until something caught your eye.
You saw a flier for a meteorology seminar with a guest speaker from your local news. The premise wasn’t overly exciting for any one student at the university but for you, it was interesting enough to attend on a vacant Tuesday evening.
Like fate had promised before, it dealt you a winning hand.
Tyler spotted you as you walked through the door and waved you down. In your dumps, you forgot to think his attendance was a possibility even after he mentioned time and time again that he’d love to be on television, that he’d die to help people protect themselves.
So when he got ready to leave after the lecture, you weren’t going to die without facing a fear. You had to protect yourself from another six weeks of imaginary mourning and asked for his number.
And six weeks later you concluded he was going to murder you in some remote location in the plains of Arkansas.
“I’m not gonna murder you, alright?” He chuckled. His eyes were illuminated with a mischievous glow you couldn’t escape. You saw his eyes in dreams and knew you’d never want to imagine a day without them.
Fuck, you thought. It was way too early to be thinking of that.
“Then tell me!” You looked over at him with reason. “This road is so shitty I can’t imagine what’s on the other end!”
“Paradise, baby!” He smiled. “When I was a kid, my pops used to take me and my brother down here to go fishing. It’s this picnic area that I think,” he glanced at you with raised eyebrows, “no one else knows about. So don’t go runnin’ and tellin all them about this, ok?”
Oh.
It was personal.
“I won’t,” you promised.
“When my grandpa died I was,” he thought back on it as if it were long ago. “Nine and I came here with my mom and just sat. We stared out at the water and watched the ducks and the birds fly over until the sun went down. This was his spot and he passed it on to me.”
You suddenly felt an urge of regret pass over you as the comments from before soured.
“Tyler,” you said solemnly. “I didn’t—“
He brushed the nonverbal apology away.
“It’s alright,” he reassured. “There are plenty of reasons why you could have felt that way.”
It was heartwarming that Tyler didn’t dismiss your fears. There were so many guys, barely men, who would have called you crazy for a lot less. Tyler never made you feel that way.
Being with him was like chasing a high of the greatest strengths. Everything he did revolved around his ability to be free and willing to do what scared him the most and it was enchanting.
You could feel the sparks hit your heart.
“I’ve never taken anyone there before.”
“No?”
“You’d be the first.”
The two of you let that sit in the air as the road became more suitable for driving. The smoothness was welcome as his admission settled between you.
The first. He thought you special enough to be the first person to witness this place. You could have been ten feet tall at that moment. Never had anyone ever made you feel so special.
As the roads improved, the clearings of trees and bushes began to open up to a wider area with a paved lot on a taller hill.
It was beautiful.
Only the fairy tales could conjure a place like that. Billowing pines and lush greens on the bank of a river cut off by a large damn. The rushing water filled your ears amidst the squawking of wildlife uninterrupted by human activity.
It was so peaceful, charming.
The sun’s orange rays twinkled down onto the water and made it sparkle. Flowers in bloom, the buzzing of cicadas at the arrival of a hot and early spring warmed your cheeks as Tyler put the truck into park.
He watched you take in your surroundings of pure nature. A slight awe in your eyes, shallow breath at the sights. You were a vision in his favorite place.
“I thought we could have dinner here,” he tipped his head to the back seat where he had plastic Walmart bags full of food, unprepared and prepared for whatever fit your fancy. “And then, if we’re lucky, maybe it will rain.”
“Rain?” You turned to meet his eyes and they crinkled at the sides. Endearing, charming—just like this place.
Tyler hummed. “You mean to say you’ve never heard of rain?”
His words quickly became a joke. You rolled your eyes, hitting his chest with the back of your hand. It was solid under your touch and you were reminded that he was real. It wasn’t a fairytale and you were very much living it.
“Ha-ha,” you replied dryly.
“I’ll keep that one as a surprise.”
“I checked the weather before we left and,” you pointed to the sky. “No rain.”
Tyler unbuckled himself and opened his door.
“They just don’t see what I do.”
“And what’s that?” You asked him but he shut the door, moving to the backseat to take out the bags of items he procured, and then as ever the gentleman, opened your own door.
“Magic.”
You laughed but he was being serious. His eyes still gleamed with the same sly nature he was born with, but his touch was comfort. Hands carefully guiding you to a spot that he had meticulously planned out—even if this appeared to be a spur of the moment outing for you.
Everything was planned. Tyler wasn’t going to take just anyone to this spot. He’d be a fool to lie and say he hadn’t spoken to his mother about his plans just to hear her perspective on whether it was creepy, brilliant, or just plain sad.
However, he carried on to face his fears of bringing someone he liked to a place near-sacred to him. Tyler wasn’t a fool of love, he just hadn’t found anyone worth sharing these bits of him. And he also didn’t expect the feeling to come about so quickly.
Those fears he let simmer never truly came about in the reality he lived.
You were smitten. Absolutely fallen into this little spot in this tiny corner of the world with a man who was opening up before you. Tyler made the puzzle pieces of a perfect date fit together wonderfully.
The food, the drinks, the atmosphere—he hit an apex of the paragon of “partner,” “boyfriend,” or “lover.”
And you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as the sun began to truly fade.
You took a sip of your drink, coming down from a high of laughter at a story Tyler shared at his brother’s detriment. The sky was a shimmering shade of reds and deepening blues now; orange melting away for the sake of night.
“No rain,” you pointed out. He shrugged his shoulders, moving from a lounging position on the worn blanket to a lying one. His arms perched behind his head.
Tyler stared at the stars beginning to form.
He could see the shapes of the clouds, the movement quickening and the air cooling. It was as special as this place, his talent for finding the storms. Whether they brew inside or out, he found them and chased them with a passion—unrelenting and fierce. He sought the thrill.
“The night’s not over yet,” he said coolly. “Don’t count me out.”
“I’m not counting you out,” you defended, moving scraps of discarded food away from you to lay next to him. You shuffled to get comfortable in his vicinity.
“How often do you stargaze?” Tyler asked.
“Not often. I don’t think there’s an opportunity for it when I have nowhere to go.”
He agreed with a grunt. “I think you’re lookin’ in the wrong spots, honey.”
Oh those godforsaken nicknames. The country in him seeped out at their mention.
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” he removed his arms from the back of his head and pointed to the now appearing stars the darker it became. “See here?”
You moved closer. “Not really.”
“There,” he pointed again. “Right there in the middle of those two clouds.”
There were two stories at play here: one of him proving that rain was coming in the guise of stars and the second of you trying to be aloof in order for him to touch you.
You’d spent the last hour with him. Watching him talk, eat, smile, and laugh at anything that brought him joy. Those lips begged you to kiss them. They beckoned you like a ship lost at sea and in the clouds, the water would find it.
You shook your head innocently.
“I don’t know what I’m looking at, Ty.”
“Here,” he took your hand in his and pointed to the stars. “Look.”
In the sky above, a faint outline of the Little Dipper appeared in your vision. You smiled lightly. His hand with his finger pointing was still outstretched and connected to yours which made it grow wider.
You were giddy.
Tyler moved his finger to fully cup your hand but as you kept looking at the sky, he looked at you. You could feel his eyes on you, the turn of his face and the low breaths he released through his nose.
“What else do you see?” He asked lowly.
You breathed in deeply. It was just too beautiful to explain one thing. The clouds grew thicker, dense in the night as light was swallowed up by the moon. The air was now cool enough to send a chill down your spine and wish the blanket was more than a thin excuse for a sheet.
“It’s getting cloudy,” you observed. “There are more stars and it’s cooling off.”
“Anything else?”
“It’s just beautiful.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “It is.”
“I’m can—“
You stopped mid-sentence at the sensation that hit your cheek.
It wasn’t air or breath or a bug or grass but a wetness that could have come from only one place: the sky. You waited for another to fall and it did not a second later. A third and fourth drop followed until it was a hundred drops or more into a steady downpour.
You scoffed in disbelief, sitting up to feel the rain in your palms and Tyler sat up too. His laugh was one of joy that followed yours.
“Oh my god!” You exclaimed as the water began to drench the area around you and your clothes.
“I told you!” Tyler shouted over the rain falling harder and harder. You blinked at him.
“How’d you know!?”
“Just did!”
“And what’s so magical about getting rained on?” You asked him.
He didn’t have a solid plan if it rained. All he knew is that he had seen this in the movies. A downpour catches two people in the rain and it creates one thing: magic. It’s innocent and daring, carefree and transparent. Rain makes lovers fall in love. It binds them to one spot, one moment in time where all the elements line up to craft one singular point that would forever be cemented in their memory.
“I don’t know,” he confessed.
Tyler positioned one hand to lean on behind your back while the other cupped your face. The rain dropped onto his hand but you were warm against the coldness of his hands. Your eyes glistened at him as the movies described.
“I don’t know what’s so magical about it.”
“Me either.”
“Can you kiss me?” You asked him. It wasn’t a question, per se. He was going to kiss you.
Tyler nodded his head, leaning in to meet your lips as the rain fell harder around you both. The sound of the rain disappeared when his lips met yours. Only the beat of your heart, the rush of your blood flooded your ears and body. You lifted a hand to grip his arm as he tilted his head, using his leverage to position you the way he wanted and deepened the kiss.
You could feel the tendrils of a story weaving in your bones. The place, the time, the kiss… it was a fairytale.
You dropped everything and kissed him in the pouring rain in a spot now forever implanted in your history, you felt the sparks fly higher.
A/N: thanks for reading! As always comments, reblog, and likes are always appreciated. I love hearing from all of you and your reactions motivate us greatly!
#tyler owens x reader#tyler owens x you#tyler owens#tyler owens twisters#twisters#twister 2024#glen powell#glen powell x reader#glen powell x you#tyler owens fanfiction#tyler owens fic#tyler owens imagine#twisters movie#x reader#fanfic#fanfiction
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disgraceful dreams
→ Summary: After two years of lustful pining and disgraceful dreams about someone far out of your reach, you decide the only way to move past your hopeless crush on Onyx Academy's star student is by taking part in the Lupercalia festival for the very first time.
↠ wooyoung x f.reader (feat. yeosang) | 16.4k words | 18+ ↠ genre: witch/warlock au, smut, virgin!reader, inspired by s2e3 of caos, slowburn
→ Full Fic Warnings: little bit of social class discrimination, cult-ish behavior (mentions of blood, Y/N uses a knife to cut her hand for binding/ritual purposes), being ‘hunted’ like prey, explicit sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, pet names, praise kink, biting, nipple play, breast play, begging, fingering, mutual masturbation, oral (female and male receiving), exhibitionism, voyeurism, partial agoraphilia & semi-public sex, dirty talk, heavy teasing, spanking, multiple orgasms, grinding, deep dicking, size kink (wooyoung is HUNGGG), magical sex, fucking up against a tree, slight age gap (y/n is 20 and wooyoung is 25), slight corruption, choking, possessive!wooyoung, woo is ravenous for you (you’re welcome)
→ Networks: tagged below
@ksmutsociety @k-vanity @pirateeznet @cromernet
@illusionnet @othersideoutlawsnetwork @cultofdionysusnet
→ Author Note: edited by the lovely aeris @beomcoups whom i appreciate so SO much for tackling this beast of a fic ILY! And also to ally @lovetaroandtaemin for reading this over for me!!! this doesn’t follow the exact lupercalia process, i’ve twisted it to work for my fic and based it around halloween instead of valenbarf day lol, if you'd prefer to read on ao3, it's been crossposted here!! all likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated <3
‘This can’t be real.’
Jung Wooyoung casts a dark look upon you while taking in your ethereal, naked form before him. The flames of the common room’s fireplace dance in his eyes, reflecting his sinister and most impure thoughts. Thoughts of you, what he wants to do to you. With you.
‘I must be dreaming.’
He circles around you, hovering over your backside and letting his hands fall to your bare hips. His touch leaves a trail of goosebumps across your skin.
“Mmm, can I touch you?” Wooyoung whispers as he leans in to kiss the dip between your shoulder and neck.
You nod, giving him permission to do whatever he pleases, and lean back against his broad chest.
His hands move from your side, one moving upward to cup your breast, the other heading down between your legs, gently tracing your silky skin until his fingers find their way home and sink into your sweet center.
The sensation awakens you from your sinful slumber, and you sigh, realizing it was only a dream—another delicious and depriving dream that left you wanting someone who would never consider you.
Groaning, you force yourself to roll out of bed and step toward your closet. Black Mass isn’t for another hour, but arriving early might help erase these recurring dreams from your memory.
Your footsteps echo in the empty hall as you exit the residential wing, making your way outside. It’s a beautiful gloomy day, the air is crisp and the sun is hidden by thick clouds that look as if they could open up at any moment and soak the woods with another harsh day of rain - something you wouldn’t mind.
The fog creeps through the forest, following your steps and trailing behind while you wait for your familiar to catch up. Besides your raven’s distant cry, it’s quiet. The hum of the earth’s magic is even more reserved than usual. It’s peacefully eerie.
“Ghoul Morning, Blair,” you say, extending your wrist out for her. She caws from above and slowly descends from the clouds, eagerly accepting your arm as the safe place to perch while you walk along the path to the Unholy Church.
Though she looks like a raven while masked, Blair wreaks havoc in her goblin form on anyone, and anything, that dares to disturb you. She’s one of the strongest familiars a witch could be cursed with, and you’ve been thankful for her services ever since you started training.
It’s your second year attending The Onyx Academy of Dark Casting, a magical finishing school that only the finest witches and warlocks between the ages of nineteen and twenty-five are given the unholiest privilege to attend.
Of these students, the Dark Stars of each class lead with their high values and spectacular spell casting. More often than not, they graduate with the highest dishonor and ascend to become High Priests and Priestesses of covens across the world.
Jung Wooyoung is a beloved Dark Star and stellar student, and it’s rumored that he’ll become the youngest Anti-Pope inducted into the Church of Night after his completion here at the academy.
Even with your unique gift, it’s not in the cards for a person of your status to ever equal his. Which you very well know and understand, despite the dark fantasies that haunt you most nights and your schoolgirl crush that hasn’t gone away since the very first day you met him.
Blair lets out a sharp caw, her wings cutting through the air as she ascends, perching gracefully on the steeple just as you arrive at the church. Her dark silhouette stands stark against the sky, watching over you like a silent sentinel.
The towering doors creak open as you approach them, welcoming you inside the dim space. You walk between the rows of pews, watching the candles that mark the aisle light up as you pass.
Once closer to the altar, you lift a hand and wave it across the front of the sanctuary. The room becomes brighter as the remaining unlit candles grow flames from your magic.
You have a way with the elements; you’re able to manipulate and control them as you wish without specific spells, conjuring them when you please. Your energy is unmatched compared to the other gifted students.
Yet, instead of improving your social status, being gifted has made you even more of an outcast. The professors are wary of your potential and what you could be capable of; the students keep their distance too, either jealous or frightened of your power.
Needless to say, you’re not Miss Popular, but that doesn’t bother you as much as it could. Only the luckiest of witches and warlocks are disgraced with gifts from the Dark Lord, and having chosen you out of everyone means something. And knowing the Dark Lord chose you is enough.
You settle into your usual pew, the familiar creak of the wooden bench under you blending into the background as your mind begins to churn. Thoughts swirl of today’s impending announcement during Father Blackmoor’s sermon cross your mind.
The excitement for Lupercalia is beginning to build. This ancient festival, celebrated by all magic wielders the week leading up to Halloween, is dedicated to the Goddess Peralia, who blesses covens with enhanced health, virility, and fertility in exchange for an indelicate offering. Participants must engage in a series of ritualistic events celebrating lust and sexuality, transforming the festival into a vibrant expression of desire and intimacy. Only then will she offer her unholiest blessing.
You sit there, not in prayer, but in a quiet storm of contemplation, unsure if you will sign up for the festival this year. Another downfall to being viewed as an outsider is that you have yet to experience, well, anything. Sure, you might have kissed a couple of warlocks in your intermediate years, you even had a boyfriend in prep school whom you were convinced you could have loved eventually, but your virtue has yet to be given away.
It’s common for witches and warlocks to lose their virginity during Lupercalia; typically when they are in prep school. In fact, it’s encouraged. Yet, by age twenty, you still haven't mustered the courage to join in the festivities.
This year might be different…
The sudden crash of books jolts you from your thoughts. You turn to see Yeosang, a fellow student, crouched beside a toppled stack of The Book of Blood, its pages splayed open.
“My apologies; I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he says, a hint of embarrassment in his voice as he scrambles to gather the scattered volumes. His cheeks flush slightly, and you can't help but smile softly.
He’s a sixth-year student, just like Wooyoung. Yet, where Wooyoung’s presence demands your attention with an almost suffocating charisma, Yeosang embodies a more reserved demeanor. He tends to stick to his tight-knit group of friends and immerses himself in his studies, radiating a quiet intensity that draws you in without overwhelming you.
You feel a wave of annoyance wash over you as soon you realize that even in the presence of another man, your thoughts keep drifting back to Wooyoung. It frustrates you to no end, pushing you to a spontaneous decision: this year will finally be the year you break free from this obsession. By participating in Lupercalia, you’re determined to finally move on from him once and for all.
“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, “The Dark Lord has already provided me with the clarity I came here for.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” he says, carefully restacking the last book. He glances to his left, likely considering the seat he usually occupies, before turning back to you. “Would you mind if I joined you?” he asks, a hopeful note in his voice as he gestures toward the space beside you.
“Not at all, please do,” you smile.
He settles beside you with an effortless grace, and the air around you immediately fills with the warm, intoxicating blend of amber and musk from his cologne. The scent is rich, almost magnetic, pulling your attention in ways you hadn’t anticipated. You fidget with your hands, trying to focus on anything but how good he smells, as your mind races to keep pace with your quickening heartbeat.
Maybe... you could partner with Yeosang for the festival. The thought lingers as you steal a glance at him from the corner of your eye. He’s undeniably handsome—sharp features that give him a striking, confident look, but it’s his kindness that really stands out. There’s a warmth in the way he carries himself, a subtle softness behind those strong eyes that makes him more than just attractive. You wonder what it would be like to lose your virginity to someone like him, someone who seems both strong and thoughtful in all the right ways.
"Are you sure you are okay? You seem a little tense," he asks, his voice laced with genuine concern as his eyes search your face. You hesitate to answer, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks, and though you're trying to keep your composure, your breath has grown a little quicker, more shallow.
Thankfully, he’s kind enough not to mention it, but you catch the flicker of awareness in his gaze. His words are gentle, but there's an underlying curiosity there—like he's not just asking out of politeness but because he genuinely cares. You try to steady yourself, aware of the closeness between you, and suddenly the air feels heavier as if the moment itself is holding its breath, waiting for your next move.
"I didn’t mean to pry if it’s personal," he quickly adds, his voice softening as he notices your hesitation. His words have a touch of urgency, and he backtracks, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. His shifts slightly, giving you space while still holding onto the moment, unsure whether to push further or retreat.
"Can I tell you a secret?" The words escape your lips before you even realize what you’ve said. For a moment, you freeze, caught off guard by your sudden vulnerability. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but there’s no turning back now.
Yeosang nods and softly says, “Of course.”
“I’ve…never participated in Lupercalia,” you admit guardedly.
“Oh, um. That’s, uh…” He’s visibly taken aback when he hears your confession, stumbling over his words. “Wow, I… I wasn’t expecting that.”
He shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, uh, that’s really something. I just, uh… I guess I never saw you as someone who hadn’t, you know, participated.” He draws out the last word, his tone heavy with the unspoken meaning.
You nod, trying to meet his eyes. “I know, it’s just… I never felt called to join in on the festivities in previous years. But lately, that feeling has… changed.”
“Oh. Right, yeah, I get it. So you’ll be signing up for the events this year?” He asks with a calm, collected voice, though he’s concerned that the quickened rhythm of his heartbeat betrays his calm facade.
Hearing your confession piques his interest. He’s always found you hauntingly beautiful and has enjoyed the casual conversations you’ve shared between classes and such, but today feels different.
He knew you didn’t actively participate last year, though he figured you were still doing something-someone-in private. Now that your secret is out, there's something undeniably more intriguing about you—an unexpected allure that wasn’t there before.
“Yeah, I’m thinking about it.”
“I think you should,” he blurts out, then quickly adds, “What I mean is, the festival’s about self-expression and the intimacy you share along the way. If you’re looking for a wild introduction to Lupercalia, there will be plenty of opportunists who share that venereal vision. But if you want something more comforting…choose someone who makes you feel safe and respected for your first time.” Yeosang trails off, his gaze lingering a little too long, the implication unmistakable. He clears his throat, trying not to give himself and his intentions away.
“Thank you, Yeosang,” you say while resting a hand above his knee, genuinely appreciating his insight.
Before the conversation can continue, the sound of footsteps echoes through the Church as fellow students file in, taking their seats. Black Mass is about to begin.
Wooyoung hadn’t intended to listen in on your conversation. He was too busy waiting for the other Dark Stars to arrive at the closed-off sanctuary to finish preparing for Black Mass. As usual, they didn’t show up early despite his suggestions. That’s a lie; he knew his words were less like suggestions and more like demands.
He was well aware they’d be late today, especially since most of the fifth and sixth years had spent the night at an intimate pre-Lupercalia party that stretched into dawn.
The only reason he peeked through the shadows was due to a loud crash, which he soon realized came from Yeosang, who appeared entranced by someone sitting near the front of the Church. That’s when he noticed it was you.
He’ll admit to having observed you over the past year—not out of personal interest, but because he’s intrigued by your unique gift and curious as to why the Dark Lord chose you of all people. Yes, you’re undeniably attractive as most witches are, but your ability to manipulate pure power without relying on spellwork is, to him, the most compelling quality you possess. If you had the right social standing, you would likely ascend to the role of High Priestess in a very fortunate coven.
From his hidden vantage point, he watches as his friend settles down beside you; that’s when the conversation begins.
“I’ve…never participated in Lupercalia,” he hears you share your secret. Now that is quite a confession.
Wooyoung’s lips curl into a smirk as he observes your flushed face from a distance, the rosy hue contrasting with the cold room that surrounds you. There’s a spark of mischief in his eyes as he takes in the way you shift nervously, completely unaware of his gaze.
Knowing that you haven’t been touched stirs a mix of amusement and curiosity within him. He wonders what thoughts are racing through your mind, feeling a strange sensation rush through him when you place your hand on his classmate’s thigh.
He saw no reason to hold back from participating. The moment he came of age, he dove in—and he’s done so every year since, always finding ways to revel in the experience to the fullest. As he reflects on past encounters, a pleased smile crosses his face as he silently counts the number of popped cherries he’s collected over the last several seasons, each a vivid memory weaved into his mind.
‘What’s one more…’
As more students trickle in and take their seats, the soft murmur of conversation fills the air. Wooyoung senses the moment is right and slips out of the shadows just as Father Blackmoor begins to walk down the aisle, weaving between the pews filled with eager faces. The flickering candlelight dances on the stone walls, casting a warm glow that contrasts with the coolness of the sanctuary.
He moves to stand on the left of Father Blackmoor, joining the other Dark Stars who are trying to stifle their yawns. The collective fatigue from the previous night’s festivities hangs in the air, but a shared excitement simmers beneath the surface. He exchanges brief glances with his fellow Stars, a silent acknowledgment of their late-night revelry and the anticipation of what today’s ceremony will bring.
“Fiends and Friends, today marks the beginning of our annual Lupercalia Festival,” Father Blackmoor announces, his voice resonating through the crammed Church. “As you all know, Lupercalia is upon us. I can feel the excitement buzzing in the air. The Festival of Wolves is a cherished tradition within our coven, and we take immense pride in honoring Goddess Peralia through a series of exhilarating rituals, all in hopes of receiving her unholiest blessings. With that in mind, let’s review the week’s events for those of you who are new to our practices.”
Father Blackmoor pauses to take an envelope from Wooyoung. “Tomorrow marks the start of the Assessment Period, which will be held in the Grand Hall. Witches who sign up today will be quizzed by prospective partners in hopes of finding their ideal match.”
“Courting begins on Tuesday. Those interested in a specific witch will reserve time slots to spend more time together. By the end of the night, the warlocks must submit the names of the witches they wish to be paired with. This will be followed by the Matching Ceremony on Wednesday, where the pairs will be revealed to the entire coven. On Thursday, we’ll have the Moon Ritual, during which the paired couples will venture into the darkwood to complete the rite. More specific details will be shared on the day, but they are expected to spend the night together beneath the moon in unholy abstinence.”
Some students snicker, knowing very well they won’t be abstaining from anything that night.
Father Blackmoor waits for the room to settle down before continuing, “Friday ushers in the Insatiable Hunt at dusk, where wolf-masked warlocks will chase after their red-cloaked witches through the woods, culminating in divine pleasure once they’ve been caught. We’ll conclude the week of festivities on Saturday with the Final Feast, where we will express our gratitude to Goddess Peralia for her many blessings this season.”
Wooyoung steps forward once more, this time carrying an ancient, leather-bound tome. The worn edges and faded lettering hint at its age and significance.
It’s the Book of Blood; which contains hundreds of Witches and Warlock's printed names, signed with their crimson ink, as a binding commitment to their word. It’s like a contract between yourself, the entire coven, and the Dark Lord himself.
With a practiced hand, he carefully cracks it open, his eyes sweeping across the room. “Witches that dare to participate, please step forward, say your intent, and sign your name in the Book of Blood.”
Your heart pounds in your chest as you push yourself to your feet, joining the line of participants ahead of you. A mix of excitement and nerves swirl in your stomach, each step bringing you closer to the moment you've been both dreading and anticipating.
The weight of curious eyes fall on you as you move, but none more intense than Yeosang's. His gaze feels like a spotlight, cutting through the crowd around him.
With each passing second, your pulse quickens as the line inches forward at a deathly slow pace. Every breath feels shallow, as if the air is too thick for your lungs to handle. Despite the knot of nerves tightening in your belly, your feet move on their own, as if guided by some force beyond your control.
Before you even realize it, you’re standing before Wooyoung. His eyes pierce down onto you while he hands you a knife, “Do you hereby pledge your full participation and commitment to the forthcoming Lupercalia festival and all associated events?”
Taking a deep breath, you respond, “Yes, I pledge myself.”
You take the knife from him, feeling the cold steel as you press the sharp blade into your palm. With a swift motion, you slice a clean, precise line across your skin. Ruby-red blood wells up, pooling in your cupped hand. Without hesitation, Father Blackmoor raises his hand, his dark magic swirling in the air as he draws the blood from your palm. It twists and shapes into the form of a pen, glowing faintly with a sinister aura, ready to be used.
You reach up and grasp the hovering pen, its energy vibrating through your hand. As you sign your name in the book, a surge of adrenaline floods your veins, electrifying every nerve. The moment the ink dries, you feel an undeniable shift. Something deep within you has been awakened.
Wooyoung smirks, knowing the sensation very well. “There’s no backing out now,” he says to you, his gaze locking onto yours, sharp and unrelenting.
“So,” Jongho, a second-year student like yourself, pauses to clear his throat after pulling on his tie, “That was awful.”
You chuckle, relieved to see you're not the only one with frayed nerves. “Yeah, good luck with the rest of them.”
He smiles back before shuffling along to the next person.
It’s Assessment Day, and every witch who signed their name is being rigorously questioned by the participating warlocks. Friends who had gone through this in previous years warned you about what to expect, and they were right. It’s definitely a forced mingling period on steroids.
It’s only been an hour, and you’re already exhausted of the routine of answering questions filled with probing and uncomfortable inquiries that delve into personal preferences. Over and over again, you're forced to confront touchy subjects, as if each question is designed to peel away the layers of your desires, as if you know.
The process feels more like an interrogation than a mere assessment, testing not just your patience, but your lack of knowledge on the subject at hand—sex.
The situation would be far less awkward if you didn't have to sit directly across from someone to verbally review the list. After each question, it’s mandatory to respond in one of the following ways: Agree - you give consent to the matter being discussed with the current party; Acknowledge - it is a potential option, and you give partial consent or Decline - no consent is given.
You pick at your fingernails while you wait for the next warlock.
“Penny dreadful for your thoughts?” You glance up to see Yeosang sliding into the seat across from you, with a broad smile spread across his handsome face.
“Oh, hi!” you say, doing your best to not sound startled. “Just wondering when all of this will be over, you know?” you continue, waving your arms around.
“Yeah, this part of the process isn’t the most comfortable. But I understand why it’s necessary,” he comments while leaning forward on the table. “Have the others been respectful?”
“Oh, yes. Yeah, everyone has been nice. I’m learning how many students I’ve never spoken to before,” you reply lightheartedly.
"Shall we begin?" Yeosang asks with a playful glint in his eyes, nodding toward the paper resting between you on the table, waiting for your cue to dive in.
Just as he reaches to pick up the list of desires to discuss, his movement is halted by the sudden arrival of Wooyoung, whose presence instantly commands attention.
He strides up to your table with his usual confidence, a grin tugging at his lips. The conversation shifts before it even begins, as Wooyoung’s energy pulls both your attention toward him without saying a word.
Yeosang lowers the paper, his eyes flicking between you and Wooyoung, sensing the inevitable distraction.
“Father Blackmoor has requested your presence in the Anti-Sacristy,” Wooyoung announces, handing him a miniature scroll with a secret message.
Yeosang frowns while reading it over, “Please excuse me.”
"Of course, I hope everything's alright," you murmur, though your words go unheard as he's already on his feet, moving swiftly toward the door.
Watching Yeosang rush out, you suddenly realize Wooyoung is still standing there. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, and he tilts his head, studying you with a curious intensity.
"Seems like you require a partner," he says with a smirk, sliding effortlessly into Yeosang’s chair without missing a beat.
You’re too stunned to respond and shift uncomfortably in your seat, completely unsure of what to do in this situation. He’s not offering to go through the questionnaire, is he?
Somehow, you forgot that you would, at some point, have to converse with Wooyoung today. It entirely slipped your mind up until this moment. And now he’s here without giving you time to prepare. You start to breathe a little heavier, and a slight sense of panic sets in.
“Why are you acting like that?” He says with a raised eyebrow, noticing your bouncing leg (a nervous habit of yours that annoyingly shows up at the worst possible moments.)
“I’m not sure what you mean?” Well, yes, you do but you won’t admit that. But your hyperventilating and antsy body might tell a different story.
“Yeah, right,” he rolls his eyes.
Your eyes lock on Wooyoung’s as he casually picks up the page. Without waiting for your reaction, he glances at the list and reads off the first item, his voice smooth and confident.
"How does each party feel about blood play; drawing blood by use of knives or other sharp weaponry, smearing blood, using blood as a lubricant, and/or tasting blood?" he reads off, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he waits for your response.
"I acknowledge," you reply with hesitation in your voice, uncertain whether you’re truly opposed to it, yet not entirely sure if you fully consent either. “And you?”
Wooyoung tilts his head again, “Do you really need to ask?”
"You and I both know there are specific rules to follow here," you say, leaning back in your seat with your arms crossed, eyes fixed on him with a mixture of challenge and caution. And, if you’re being completely honest, there’s a hint of annoyance now too. The nervousness from earlier has vanished entirely.
“Fair enough,” "he replies with a nonchalant sigh, “I agree.”
It’s your turn to read off the next item. “Does each participating student consent to bringing in other parties to join and/or watch your sexual relations? And additionally, joining others.” You look up toward Wooyoung, already expecting him to agree to those terms.
“Decline,” he states firmly, his voice dropping an octave as he adds, “I don’t share.”
You try to mask your shock, but the expression slips through.
“Don’t look so surprised,” he huffs.
“Sorry,” you mumble, “I also decline.”
He nods curtly, and you swear you hear him mutter "good" under his breath.
You breeze through the next set of questions surprisingly fast, both providing the appropriate answers as you work your way down the page.
At first, Wooyoung seemed a bit disinterested, but something caused his attitude to shift. Now, he’s more engaged, genuinely listening to your reasonings whenever you offer it.
“Last question, how many sexual partners have each participating party had?”
As he finishes speaking, you narrow your eyes at him, “That question isn’t on the list.” You’ve practically memorized them all by now. “You’re making that up.”
“So? Answer anyway,” he dares.
You glare at him, silently debating whether or not you should tell the truth. “Screw it,” you exhale, “None.”
Instead of the shock or teasing you expect, he simply blinks at you, as if he already knew what your answer would be.
But how…
When you wake the next morning, butterflies are already fluttering in your stomach. At this point, it’s hard to judge who will end up courting you, though you have a pretty good idea that Yeosang is interested. When he returned after visiting Father Blackmoor, you two had quite a connection while going through the assessment list.
You’ll find out for sure when you make it to the Dining Hall the courting schedule will be pinned on the announcement board for everyone to view.
You decide to grab a pastry and wait for the crowd around the schedule to thin out before checking how many dates you will have today. To keep things relatively fair, each witch is only allowed to have up to five courting suitors. A flicker of nerves sets in—what if no one reserved one of your time slots?
For the love of Lucifer, please let me have at least one warlock courting me.
You shove the last bite into your mouth and make your way to the board, eager to find out. Peeking around the remaining heads blocking your view, you spot that two of your time slots have already been reserved. Just as you’re trying to make out the names, someone taps you on the shoulder.
“Ghoul morning, Y/N,” Yeosang says with a smile, handing you a card. Your heartbeat picks up, recognizing the formality; courting warlocks are required to provide the witches with a card that essentially confirms their date.
“Hi, Yeosang!” You beam. Praise Satan.
He looks relieved when you accept his card. “I was hoping to see you this morning. Meet me at the Weeping Willow at three o’clock this afternoon. I have a special activity planned for us.”
You’re about to respond when you can feel his presence. Turning to look over your shoulder, you see Wooyoung standing closely behind. He towers over you, staring down Yeosang.
“Do you need something?” you ask, bringing his attention back to you while silently begging that he’s not here to send Yeosang away again, like yesterday.
“Yes,” he extends a hand, offering you a card. You stare at it in disbelief. He’s not here to steal Yeosang; he’s stealing you.
Wooyoung is your other suitor.
“I believe you’re meant to spend the morning with me.” Wooyoung’s eyes drift from yours and back to Yeosang’s, who tenses beside you. They seem to have a silent exchange of words.
“I see,” Yeosang says curtly, “Enjoy your time together.”
Before you have a chance to say anything Yeosang already disappears. Damn it.
“Come on, follow me,” Wooyoung demands while grabbing your wrist. He leads you down the dim, shadowy hallways of the school before picking up the pace as you leave the safety of the school, heading into the woods.
The thick trees close in around you, and the air feels heavier with each step. Fog swirls at your feet but mysteriously clears a path ahead of him like it knows exactly where he's going. You follow, feeling the cool, damp air cling to your skin. The deeper you go, the more unfamiliar the landscape becomes—you don’t recognize this part of the woods at all, and a strange sense of unease settles over you.
“Bloody heaven, where are you taking me?” you huff, doing your best to keep up with his long strides.
“You’ll see,” he grumbles, helping you up when you trip over an exposed tree root. “Can you stop tripping every five seconds? You’re slowing us down, and we’re on a time crunch.”
You glare at the back of his head as he speeds up. What a dick.
It’s not long before you arrive at the destination; it’s a stone table in the middle of the woods. You look around suspiciously. “Is this a ritual site? Are you planning on killing me for some weird sacrificial thing now that you know I’m a virgin, or…?”
Wooyoung bursts out laughing, “The thought hadn’t crossed my mind, actually. This is a portal.”
“A portal? To where?” you ask, peering at the stone. It doesn’t look like any portal you’ve ever seen.
“Want to find out?” he offers a hand for you to take, and you grab it warily.
He places his other hand on the stone, and its magic instantly pulls you through the atmosphere, sending you spiraling toward an unknown destination.
When you land, your feet hit the damp cobblestone street with a soft thud. The air smells of rain and baked goods, and you take in the bustling scene around you—witches and warlocks are flowing in and out of quaint little shops that line both sides of the road, their chatter filling the air. The street is alive with energy, and everything looks both foreign and strangely charming.
Before you can fully absorb it all, Wooyoung tugs you along, his grip firm as your head swivels, trying to figure out exactly where you’ve been transported to. The unfamiliar cityscape seems like a dream, its details slipping through your grasp as you hurry to keep up.
Suddenly, you collide with his back, not realizing he has stopped. "Ouch," you mutter, rubbing your nose in surprise. You’re about to say more when something above catches your eye—the sign swinging in the breeze.
"Trahana’s Tomb!" you squeal, excitement bubbling up. For ages, you've wanted to visit this place, but something always got in the way. Now, here it is, right in front of you, and the thrill of finally arriving sends a rush through you.
Trahana is a renowned sorceress and writer known for her vast collection of grimoires, enchanted artifacts, and other rare occult items—many of which are now on display and for sale at her legendary store. You've been itching to get your hands on her coveted Book of Arcane Beasts, a tome filled with forbidden knowledge of magical creatures, their histories, and untold powers.
Wooyoung holds the door open for you, and without a second thought, you dash inside. Your eyes widen as you take in the towering shelves crammed with both ancient and new books. Every corner of the shop is overflowing with enchanted curiosities.
At the back of the shop, a narrow, spiraling staircase catches your eye. It likely leads to an upper level filled with even more treasures waiting to be explored. The thought of what might be hidden beyond tempts you, adding to the growing sense of wonder.
"Oh, my sweet, evil boy! How are you?"
You turn to see a tall, elegant woman pinching Wooyoung’s cheeks with an affectionate grin.
He swats her hands away, groaning, "Aunt Hana, you know I hate when you do that. I’m not five anymore."
She laughs, unbothered by his protest. "Oh, you'll always be the stubborn young warlock playing with the Acheron Configuration upstairs even when told it was off limits," she teases, her eyes twinkling with the memory. “Goddess knows how many hours you spent trying to crack that spell.”
She shifts her gaze to you, giving you a quick once-over before raising an eyebrow. "Don’t be rude, Wooyoung. Introduce me to your friend."
Wooyoung rolls his eyes, "Forgive me. This is Y/N, another student at Onyx Academy. Y/N, meet Trahana, the curator of this fine establishment and, unfortunately, my insufferable aunt."
Trahana smirks, ignoring his jab. "Charmed, I’m sure," she says, her eyes glinting with curiosity as she sizes you up.
"I need to get back to work, but it was a pleasure meeting you, darling," Trahana says with a warm smile, her voice dripping with a mix of elegance and mystery. She gives you one last appraising look before turning away, her long robes sweeping the floor as she glides effortlessly toward the front of the store. The air feels lighter without her presence, yet the sense of power she carries lingers, leaving you a little awestruck.
You gape at him once she’s out of earshot. "She’s your aunt?"
Wooyoung sighs, nodding with exaggerated patience. "Yes, I’m painfully aware."
"That’s so cool. So you spent a lot of time here growing up?" you ask, curious to learn more about him.
"Yeah," Wooyoung replies, glancing around the shop with a hint of nostalgia. "My parents traveled a lot for business when I was younger, so this place became like a second home. Now, I come back whenever I need a break from school. Plus, it’s a great place to study; there's something peaceful about the chaos here compared to the eerie silence of Onyx Academy’s library."
"That makes sense," you say, nodding as your fingers trail across the spines of the old books lining the tight aisle. The dust, the energy, and the soft hum of magic in the air make the shop feel alive, the perfect contrast to the academy’s cold, quiet halls. "I can see why you'd find this place comforting."
Wooyoung smiles, clearly more relaxed here than you've ever seen him. "It’s got a strange kind of charm, doesn’t it?" he says, his voice softer now as the two of you meander through the maze of shelves, discovering little pieces of history with every step.
He allows you to explore the shelves, letting you dive into the books that capture your interest. As you lean down to examine the aged pages, he watches as a loose strand of hair slips across your face, and you absently tuck it behind your ear.
"Can I show you something?" he asks, gently drawing you away from the book that’s captivated your attention.
You glance up at him, and to your surprise, he almost seems nervous. It’s a rare sight for someone who usually exudes such confidence. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, making you curious about what he wants to show you.
Nodding, you allow him to lead you toward another bookshelf two aisles away from where you were just standing. His gaze flicks across the titles, searching for something specific.
"Ah, here it is," he finally says, lifting his arm to reveal a book with a deep blue spine. You hear a soft click as he pulls it out slightly, followed by a faint unlocking sound. With a practiced motion, he shifts down to another shelf and pulls out a book with a green spine. To your astonishment, the entire bookcase creaks ominously before revealing a secret door.
"This whole day just keeps getting stranger by the minute. Is this another portal?" you ask, a mix of skepticism and humor in your voice.
Wooyoung grins playfully. "As entertaining as that would be, no. It’s not a portal. It’s my secret place."
You turn to look at him. "See, now that’s kind of worse. Now I really don’t want to go in." The idea of stepping into his hidden sanctuary feels more daunting than the prospect of another magical journey.
He gives you a look.
“Okay, fine. In I go,” you say, taking a step closer before reaching for the cold handle. As you turn it and push the door open, you peer into the darkness beyond, straining to gauge what lies within. And, if you have to be completely honest, wondering why it needs to be hidden away.
Wooyoung steps inside after you, snapping his fingers to conjure his magic. A bright orb of light flickers to life, glowing softly at first. As he guides it upward, it gradually brightens and rises to the center of the room, illuminating the hidden space with a warm, inviting glow. The walls are revealed and adorned with eclectic decorations and mysterious photographs, creating an enchanting and haunting atmosphere.
"What is this place?" you ask, your curiosity piqued as you step closer to a nearby table and spot a stack of photographs. You pick up the first few, admiring the artistic shots of a plant you recognize from your walks through the Darkwood—it's a Moonset Fern, captured in full bloom. You remember learning about it in Herbology 101 last year; it’s renowned for its ability to protect against ill-will spells.
Intrigued, you skim through the rest of the stack. Each photo showcases different plants, all with potent herbal properties, their images so carefully composed they almost seem to pulse with hidden power.
“So,” Wooyoung says nervously, “What do you think?”
“Of the photographs? I think they’re beautiful. You took these?” He nods. “I didn’t know you had an interest in photography. Or Herbology, for that matter.”
"It’s a secret interest. Obviously," Wooyoung says, gesturing around the room to emphasize his point. "Unfortunately, Father Blackmoor thinks it’s a complete waste of time. To him, this is the work of a lesser warlock." The distaste is evident in his voice, like the words themselves leave a bitter taste in his mouth. "He’d rather I focus on proving my potential to become the youngest Anti-Pope."
"Do you believe him?" you ask, watching his reaction closely.
"Am I even allowed to believe any different?" he replies, his tone a mix of resignation and defiance. He picks up a different stack of photos and flips through them, each holding a distant memory of a time he felt genuine joy.
"Part of me wishes I wasn’t destined for this life—that I had the power to shape my own future," Wooyoung admits, his voice heavy with conflicted emotion. "But then the other half of me hates myself for even thinking like that, especially after everything my family has sacrificed to get me here." His gaze drops, the weight of expectation clearly pressing down on him, caught between desire and duty.
“No one in the history of The Church of Night has ever turned down a position of power once they've received the proper training and hold the necessary status,” he continues, his tone growing darker. "I can’t even imagine the consequences of rejecting something like that." The mere thought seems to weigh on him, defying centuries of tradition would unravel everything—not just for him, but for everyone tied to his legacy.
“That’s a frustrating position to be forced into. Though, I hate to admit I’m jealous.”
His head snaps up, eyes locking onto yours, confusion and a flicker of anger etched across his face.
"I’ve spent my whole life not knowing what my future will look like," you begin, your voice tight with emotion. “I have all this power, yet no one can explain why I have it or what I’m supposed to do with it. I don’t have even the slightest clue where I’ll end up in life, so yeah, from that standpoint, I am a bit jealous of your situation," you admit, a hint of envy creeping into your voice.
As you speak, the anger in his expression gradually fades, replaced by a quiet understanding. His features soften, and you can see him truly considering your words, letting them sink in.
"At least you have a clear path laid out for you, even if it’s not exactly what you want. I’m still stumbling around, trying to figure out what my purpose even is. But even then..." your tone softens slightly, "If I were you, I wouldn’t let my sense of duty smother the passion I feel for another study—even if it’s an uncommon path for someone in my position.”
You begin again, your voice steady with conviction, "The Dark Lord wouldn’t have put this path in front of you if there wasn’t something here worth discovering. I’d bet there’s a connection between each path, and maybe, just maybe, you’re meant to do something with both. Something no one else has thought of yet.”
Wooyoung hadn’t thought of that.
“That’s just my two cents,” you sigh, setting the photos down and walking over to the next table with hundreds more to look through.
One photo in the middle of the pile catches your eye, standing out in a way the others don’t. You can’t quite place the plant; it’s unfamiliar, yet stirs a sense of deep nostalgia. It’s a rich olive green, with spiny stems and sharply pointed leaves giving it a menacing look. But what truly captivates you is the ethereal purple aura surrounding it, shimmering faintly, like the plant itself is alive with ancient magic. Something about it feels important, though you can’t recall ever seeing it before.
"It’s a Ghost Violaceae," Wooyoung murmurs softly, leaning in close over your shoulder. His breath is warm against your ear as he speaks, his voice slightly raspy. "It’s commonly used in the art of seduction." His words hang in the air, as mysterious as the plant itself, and the subtle intensity in his tone makes the air between you suddenly feel different.
Wooyoung would do unspeakable things to know the thoughts swirling in your mind right now. He’s desperate to unravel what it is that made you blush so fiercely, what’s causing your heart to race and your breath to quicken.
You turn slightly, looking up at him with your lips parted. Wooyoung tilts his head, his eyes sparkling as he tries to decipher the emotions playing across your face. There's a flicker of curiosity in your gaze, his focus sharpening as he leans in just a fraction closer…
The sudden ringing of a timer blares through the silence, startling you both. Your head snaps toward the sound and you see a stopwatch floating in midair, its rhythmic ticking a clear reminder that your time is almost up. It’s time to return to Onyx Academy to prepare for your next session with Yeosang.
Beside you, Wooyoung tenses, the atmosphere immediately changing. The warmth in his eyes vanishes as quickly as it has surfaced, replaced by the cold, guarded demeanor he typically fronts. His walls shoot back up, and just like that, the brief vulnerability between you disappears.
Blair eyes you curiously, her black feathers ruffled while she senses the secret you’re holding back. She’s perched on a low branch, watching as you wait beneath the cascading limbs of the Weeping Willow. You’ve arrived early, not finding any solace in the silence of your room after returning to campus. Yeosang should be here any minute, but the unease from earlier lingers.
Wooyoung had barely spoken after the stopwatch appeared, his mood darkening as he grudgingly led you back to the portal. He rushed you through without a word, his steps heavy with frustration, and stormed off toward the church once back on school grounds without so much as a goodbye.
You’ve been trying to clear your mind, focusing your energy on the upcoming session with Yeosang, but the tension from Wooyoung still simmers under the surface. You take a deep breath, determined to push it aside and give Yeosang your full attention. He deserves it.
Blair lets out a sharp caw before taking off into the sky, disappearing into the distance as soon as she senses his presence. She knows to give you your privacy, leaving you alone just as he approaches.
“Oh, you’re here already,” Yeosang says, a bit surprised to see you already by the willows. He steps forward, his happy expression growing as he extends a bouquet of dried wine-colored roses, elegantly tied with a black ribbon.
“These are for you.”
Your breath catches at the sight of them. "These are gorgeous. Thank you—wow," you say, smiling while gently taking the bouquet from his hands. The gesture feels intimate, the deep red petals catching the light as you admire them, warmth blooming in your chest at the unexpected kindness.
“You’re welcome. Do you want to apparate them to your room?” Yeosang suggests.
“That’s a good idea, actually,” you reply, lifting the bouquet in front of you. With a soft hum, you recite the incantation, watching as the flowers shimmer and disappear, transporting them to your bedside table in an instant.
“There,” you smile, “Now they’ll be waiting for me when I get back.”
“We have a short walk to our destination. If you’ll follow me?” Yeosang guides you up a path behind the willow grove, the incline leading to a breathtaking view of the Darkwood below. The forest stretches endlessly, its shadowy canopy glittering with ancient magic.
"Do you mind waiting here?" he asks, rubbing the back of his neck, a hint of nerves flickering across his face. "I thought I'd have a little more time to set things up."
You smile softly. "I don’t mind at all."
Relieved, he excuses himself, disappearing back down the trail to retrieve whatever surprise he has planned. The minutes pass in peaceful quiet, the cool air brushing against your skin. You close your eyes, enjoying the moment, until a faint rustling behind you interrupts the calm energy. You glance over your shoulder, seeing nothing, and shrug it off—probably just the wind.
But then, movement at the edge of the tree line catches your eye, a shadowy figure slipping between the trees.
You step cautiously toward the movement, your heart beating a little faster with each quiet footstep. The air seems to thicken as you approach, a soft rustling continuing just beyond the nearest tree. You steady yourself, taking a slow breath before rounding the massive trunk.
Face to face with the culprit, you freeze—a pair of wide, curious eyes staring back at you. It's a small, ethereal creature, almost like a fox but with wisps of glowing mist trailing from its fur. Its translucent body shimmers faintly under the dappled light filtering through the trees.
You exhale in relief, it’s just another familiar. The creature’s gentle gaze is more inquisitive than threatening; and she tilts her head, trying to decide whether to flee or come closer, her silver eyes studying you with an almost childlike curiosity. The creature soon takes off, before you have a chance to ask who they belong to.
As you turn around, a startled cry escapes your lips—Wooyoung is standing just inches from you, his presence completely unexpected.
"What are you doing here?" you snap, your hand instinctively flying to your chest, trying to calm your racing heart.
"I'm not really here. Just astral projecting. And who’s to say I wasn’t here first?"
You cross your arms, glaring at him, clearly unimpressed.
"Okay, fine. Maybe I wasn’t here first," he concedes with a shrug, his smirk faltering under your withering stare.
"Yeosang is going to be back any second," you warn, narrowing your eyes. "Are you here to spy on us?"
"Pfff... no..." he says, though the lack of conviction in his voice makes you roll your eyes.
"Lame," you mutter, watching his poorly veiled attempt at denial fall apart. He shifts awkwardly under your gaze, clearly caught.
“I don’t like that you’re alone with him.”
“Why?”
“I told you already. I. Don’t. Share.”
“You can’t be serious,” you say, narrowing your eyes. “Is this just some kind of game? Are you playing with me because you don’t want Yeosang to have me? What is it, Wooyoung? You haven’t given me a second thought until two days ago.”
“It’s not like that—" Wooyoung starts, but the sound of rustling interrupts him, cutting his sentence short. Both of you turn, startled, as Yeosang emerges from the trees. His eyes sweep the clearing, looking for you since you aren’t standing where he left you. When he spots you, he smiles and approaches, carrying a woven basket in one arm and a blanket in the other.
You glance back toward Wooyoung, but he’s already vanished. Typical, slipping away before finishing what he started. Maybe he’s glad for the escape before you can grill him any further.
“Looking for something?”
‘More like someone,’ you think to yourself. “Oh sorry, I thought I saw a familiar, but it ran off,” you explain, brushing off the awkward moment. “So, what’s all this?” You gesture to the basket, quickly shifting the conversation before Yeosang has a chance to ask anything.
He grins, glancing down at his hands, a bit shy. "I hope you like picnics. I thought we could enjoy some treats and maybe get to know each other better."
“That sounds lovely,” you reply warmly.
Yeosang carefully picks a spot, spreading the blanket and the two of you sit side by side, the breathtaking view of the Darkwood stretching out below. There’s something serene about the quiet between you, the moment brimming with peaceful anticipation.
He sets the basket in front of you, lifting the lid to reveal an array of colorful sweets, the soft glow of the late afternoon sun reflecting off the glass jars inside. You notice delicate pastries, chocolates, and sugared fruits arranged neatly.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I brought a little of everything,” Yeosang says, his voice low but sincere.
Your heart warms at the gesture. "You’ve really outdone yourself,” you praise, picking up one of the pastries for yourself and offering another to him.
Curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to bring up the scroll from yesterday. "I didn’t want to pry, but you left in such a rush yesterday. Was everything alright?" you ask before taking a bite.
Yeosang chuckles softly, as if amused by the memory. "Funny you should ask. Turns out, when I arrived at Father Blackmoor’s office, he had no idea what I was talking about. No urgent scroll was sent for me. But he thought it was good timing and wanted to discuss my plans for after I complete my time at the academy."
Your curiosity piques further. "And those plans are...?" you press, hoping he’ll open up.
Yeosang hesitates briefly, but then, with a slight smile, he reveals, "I’d like to teach, maybe. My father was a teacher, and he always said I had the same qualities. Plus, I love kids. I think teaching them the basics of magic—the very foundation of what they'll need for the rest of their lives—would be important work."
A soft breeze ruffles the edges of the blanket, and you can’t help but smile at his answer. "That sounds perfect for you. I can already picture you as a great mentor."
The rest of your evening with Yeosang flies by in a blur of conversation and quiet moments spent enjoying the view. Before you know it, he's walking you back to the dormitories. He hesitates as you both stop outside the door to the girls' dorms, clearly lingering on something unsaid.
"I just want you to know," he starts, shifting nervously, "that regardless of what happens tomorrow at the Matching Ceremony, I had a lovely time tonight. I'll see you tomorrow then."
Before you can respond, he leans down and presses a soft kiss on your cheek. "Goodnight, Y/N."
You barely manage to mumble a “goodnight” back, still caught in the trance from the warmth of his lips against your skin. As you make your way up to your room, your heart feels light, and you can’t help but smile even wider when you notice the flowers he gave you earlier—now arranged beautifully in a vase on your nightstand.
But something else catches your eye—a small, glimmering box sitting on your bed, illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight. You walk over to it and find a note attached in handwriting you immediately recognize.
Not a game to me – W
Your breath hitches as you find the book you had been eyeing earlier—the one Wooyoung had distracted you from in Trahana’s shop—alongside the newest edition of The Book of Arcane Beasts. Tucked neatly between the pages are a few of the photographs from his secret room; the ones you had admired without realizing he noticed.
Your heart races as you hold the items in your hands, the meaning of his gesture sinking in. It’s not just a game. Whatever this is with Wooyoung, it’s something real. And now, you're more conflicted than ever.
Yeosang steps closer to the flames that surge in the iron vessel before him, casting flickering shadows across his face while he waits. If you look closely, shapes begin to form within the flames, dancing and twisting as though something is being forged in the heat. A sudden flare of sparks erupts from the fire—it's ready.
With a steady hand, he pulls an envelope from the fire. The edges of the paper are still smoldering while he opens it with precision, watching as the magic ink slowly manifests on the paper, revealing a name.
You notice a brief, almost imperceptible frown cross his face, but it vanishes just as quickly. “Polly Petrify,” he announces smoothly, his voice steady, betraying nothing as he steps back into place.
Father Blackmoor gives a solemn nod, signaling his approval of the pairing.
The Church is packed for the Matching Ceremony, and a mix of excitement and nervous energy ripples through the crowd. The warlocks stand in front of the filled pews, their postures rigid and unreadable, while the witches occupy the first two rows of seats, eyes flickering with anticipation.
You sit among them, your heart sinking as Yeosang’s name is paired with another witch. The knot in your chest tightens, but before you have time to register how you truly feel, Wooyoung steps forward.
It’s his turn.
Time stretches unbearably as his fingers hover over the glowing envelope that emerges from the flames. He grasps it carefully, tearing it open before pulling out the slip of paper, the suspense in the room thickening with every second.
At least a dozen witches sit in eager anticipation, each one hopeful, their eyes flicking toward the altar, silently praying that their name will be the one called.
You watch his face intently, almost holding your breath.
The moment he reads the name, a subtle smile curls at the corner of his lips, making him look effortlessly gorgeous. His inky black hair falls in perfect disarray, and the deep blue sweater he’s wearing brings out a distinctive glimmer in his eyes—it’s definitely his color.
As he steps back in line to let the next warlock take their turn, you realize that you completely missed whose name he just called. You’ve been too busy gawking to notice. Leaning toward the witch beside you, you whisper, “Whose name did he say?”
She shoots you a scowl and snaps, “Yours.”
Your heart skips a beat, and your gaze whips back up front. Wooyoung catches your eye and quickly winks, the gesture playful yet it’s enough to send a wave of heat rushing through you. Your pulse races and every nerve in your body is suddenly aware of his presence. The world around you fades for a second, the reality of the situation sinking in—he chose you.
It feels like all the oxygen has been sucked from the room. Your chest tightens, and it’s taking every ounce of control not to claw at your neck in search of air. You can’t tell if your racing heart is a sign of excitement, fear, or a mixture of both.
The pairing results swirl through your mind as you try to process how you feel about Wooyoung having been paired with you. You know that the warlocks have some say in their pairing preference, but the decision is ultimately up to Father Blackmoor and The Dark Lord.
But there’s no time to dwell on it now—you have a performance to focus on. As the rest of the ceremony wraps up, the witches, including yourself, are expected to sing I Put A Spell On You.
You walk up to the front of the church with the other witches, your heart still hammering in your chest. You can feel Wooyoung’s gaze searing into you from across the room, but you refuse to meet his eyes. You know that if you do, you’ll stumble over the lyrics or worse, completely forget your part.
With every note of the song, you force yourself to remain composed. Your voice blends with the others, the melody haunting, filling the ancient church with an enchanting resonance. The weight of his stare lingers, but you resist the pull until the very end. Only when the final note fades and you’re walking back to your seat do you glance his way. His eyes are still on you, but there’s something different about his expression now—intense, unreadable.
Father Blackmoor steps forward as the ceremony winds down, his voice ringing through the dimly lit room. “Remember, paired witches and warlocks are strictly forbidden from seeing each other until tomorrow evening when you’ll all meet in the Darkwood for the Moon Ritual. Ghoul evening to you all.”
The church stirs with hushed whispers and rustling bodies as everyone begins to disperse. But you remain in place for a moment, your mind tangled in the events that have unfolded. Tomorrow promises even more mystery, and the thought of it sends another shiver down your spine.
You follow the large group down the path toward the heart of the academy’s campus, their excited chatter buzzing in the crisp evening air. But as they veer toward the dining hall, you quietly part ways, taking steps in the opposite direction toward a different building.
The heavy wooden doors creak as you push them open, and the familiar scent of ancient tomes and aged parchment envelops you.
The sanctum, the private library for advanced students like yourself, is nearly deserted tonight, making it the perfect place to find peace in the aftermath of the ceremony. The usual hum of magic is calming and the near-silence offers a much-needed space to clear your mind.
You make your way to the Demonology section, where the dim light and towering shelves create a cocoon of solitude. Finding an empty seat, you settle in, snapping your fingers to summon your books. In an instant, they materialize on the table before you, pages full of dark knowledge waiting to be absorbed.
Despite it being Lupercalia season, the academic grind doesn’t stop. Your upcoming exams loom over you like a dark cloud, and no amount of supernatural matchmaking will change that.
You run your fingers over the spines of your books, mentally preparing yourself to dive into study mode. The familiar words of your Demonology texts are grounding, a reminder of the discipline and focus you need to maintain.
The sanctum is quiet tonight, only the soft sound of pages turning and the occasional whispered incantation breaking the silence. You try to focus on the words in front of you, but your mind keeps drifting back to Wooyoung—his voice, his gaze, the gift he left in your room. You shake your head, pushing the thoughts aside. There will be time for all that later. For now, you need to concentrate.
Time passes and after finishing a few chapters, you glance at your watch, eyes widening in surprise. Three hours have flown by. Blair is going to be furious that you’re late to feed her. Scribbling down a final note, you snap your fingers, sending your books back to your room before heading out of the sanctum.
As you step outside, you collide with someone. "Oh, I’m so sorry!" you stammer, glancing up to apologize, only to be met with familiar eyes twinkling beneath tousled black hair.
Wooyoung.
“You’re forgiven,” he says smoothly.
"We’re not supposed to see each other," you remind him, taking a cautious step back.
He tilts his head, smirking too, just like he always does. "I know, but you skipped dinner, and there’s something I’ve been dying to do since yesterday."
"What? Stalk me some more?" you quip, feeling a rare surge of confidence.
His smirk spreads into a full smile, and to your delight, he chuckles—a sound you’ve secretly grown to love. Your heart pounds faster.
"You wish," he shoots back, his eyes gleaming as he steps closer. The intensity in his gaze feels almost magnetic, as if he's looking right through you, straight into your soul. His nostrils flare with a sharp exhale, and you can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind.
“What are you doing?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper as he takes yet another step closer.
He doesn't answer. Instead, with one smooth motion, he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you toward him. His touch is firm, but there’s a softness to the way his fingers splay across your back. You feel your pulse quicken, your breath hitching in your throat.
“This is breaking the rules,” you whisper, trying to find an ounce of self-control to step out of his embrace.
His proximity overwhelms your senses—the warmth of his body, the way his breath tickles your skin, and the undeniable connection crackling between you two. He tilts his head slightly, the smirk on his lips fading into something more serious, more dangerous.
“I don’t break the rules, I just bend them,” he rasps, his voice low and teasing, right before he closes the space between you. The moment his lips brush against yours, you freeze, caught off guard by the softness, the tenderness as he coaxes you into responding. His mouth moves gently, skillfully, as if testing the waters, daring you to give in.
A frenzy stirs inside you, an electric current surging through your veins. Your hands instinctively move to frame his face, your fingers sliding along the sharp lines of his jaw before tangling in his soft, messy hair. The kiss deepens, the intensity building with every second as you press yourself closer to him, losing yourself in the heat of the moment.
You can’t get enough; the taste of him, the way his breath mingles with yours, and the undeniable pull that has your body responding before your mind can catch up. His other hand slides under your shirt and up your spine, anchoring you to him as if he never wants to let go.
Wooyoung mumbles an incantation against your lips before tickling the corners with his tongue. You’re too distracted to recall what he said, especially when you feel it.
Heat begins to radiate from his fingers, searing into your skin. It flows through your body until it hits your sweet spot, pooling dangerously between your legs.
You gasp against his mouth, and he uses the opportunity to dip his tongue inside, swallowing your moans as you let them slip out. Pressing your legs together, you try to find any sort of friction, aching for something to relieve the growing pressure.
A sinful sound vibrates from his chest when you bite down on his lower lip ever so gently. You have to admit, the thought of kissing him has crossed your mind more times than you can count. But now, standing here with the taste of him on your lips, you realize the reality is so much better than anything your imagination could have conjured.
He’s more intoxicating than any dream could ever be. Every touch sends a thrill through you that no fantasy could ever match. The way he knows exactly what you like leaves you yearning for more in a way that feels almost addictive.
Blair caws, cutting through the shadows of the night and announcing her arrival with impeccable timing. You both jolt, breaking apart as if the spell between you has been abruptly shattered.
“Ghoul evening, Blair,” Wooyoung mutters, his voice still thick with the lingering tension. He glances at the raven-like figure perched nearby, an amused glint flickering in his eyes. “It’s a good thing you arrived when you did,” he adds, his tone teasing. He looks down at you, pleased with how dissolved your shirt looks, how pouty your wet lips are from your nefarious activities.
He takes a step back, quickly smoothing down his hair and adjusting his clothes, his fingers lingering at his collar as he regains his usual composure. You, on the other hand, are still catching your breath, feeling the flush in your cheeks and the electric hum of the moment that lingers in the space between you.
Give me a little privacy to say goodbye, and I’ll give you extra treats for your late dinner, you say telepathically to Blair. She tilts her head, considering the offer, before finally cawing in agreement and taking off into the night, clearly satisfied with the deal.
“I want you to try something tonight,” Wooyoung murmurs, his voice low and full of mischief. His eyes glint with something dark and thrilling, sending a shiver down your spine. “When you’re alone in bed and everyone else is asleep…”
Your heart races while he speaks.
“I want you to pretend that your hands are my own, and I want you to touch yourself where you felt my magic earlier.”
“E-excuse me?” you stammer, your heart racing as you try to find the right words.
He grins, leaning in just enough for you to feel the heat radiating from him. “Trust me, you’ll like it,” he teases, his voice like velvet. “I need you to warm yourself up for me, so you’re ready to learn more tomorrow night. Will you do that for me?”
You nod, a shiver running across your skin as his words linger in the air.
“Now, get out of here and go feed Blair before you wake up tomorrow missing your eyes,” he adds with a playful smirk.
You roll your eyes but can’t suppress a smile. “Fine, see you later.”
“Yes, you will,” he says with a wink, watching as you turn to leave, his gaze heavy on you the entire way.
His words linger in your mind for the rest of the night.
It's now the witching hour, and your roommates are fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the potion you slipped into their bedtime tea. They never noticed the subtle, earthy undertones masking the spell’s effects, leaving them in a deep slumber for the next several hours.
It had to be done, the last thing you need is for one of them to wake and catch you in the act, especially while you're carrying out Wooyoung’s special request.
Under the safety of your blankets, you move quietly, as if any sudden movement could betray your secret. One hand begins to massage your breasts through your thin tank top, the other sliding down toward your pink panties.
Taking a deep breath, you open your legs, allowing your fingers to slip beneath the dampening fabric. After spreading your juices around, you rub your clit before slowly dipping your first finger into your slick entrance. The sensation is unfamiliar—neither bad nor uncomfortable, just something you're not used to. The pain of the stretch lingers, leaving a strange warmth that you can't quite place.
You close your eyes and pretend that Wooyoung is there with you. Swiftly, you begin to curl your fingers, simultaneously bucking into your hand. You picture him hovering over you, but the image clouds over, shifting into a different scene that becomes sharper.
Wooyoung is also in bed, with his hand wrapped around his exposed, thick cock, lazily pumping it. There’s something unsettlingly vivid about this image, as if it’s not just a product of your imagination. It feels real—too real. Gasping, you realize that he’s in your head, projecting himself, revealing his presence in a way that makes your heart race.
Then, as if he can sense that you've finally caught on to his wicked scheme, a dark smile tugs at the corner of his lips, the kind that makes your body’s temperature spike. “Are you touching yourself, like I asked you to?”
You suck in a sharp breath and nod instinctively, even though you know he can’t physically see you. But somehow, you sense that he knows.
“I bet you are,” he hums, closing his eyes while running his thumb over his pink head. He tosses his head back as he strokes himself, “I bet that tight little virgin cunt of yours needs some good stretching before she’s ready for me.”
Feeling the heat rising to the tips of your ears, they’re red from the weight of his words, like they’re wrapping themselves around you, pulling you deeper into his influence. The knot in your lower belly grows as you match your little finger thrusts to the speed of his hand pumps.
“Add another finger, honey, I know you can,” Wooyoung groans, his hand moving a little faster. “Look at how my cock aches to be sunk inside your sweet folds.”
You do as he commands. You’re panting at this point; completely zeroed in on his throbbing length while you climb towards bliss. The silent room fills with a sinful pattern of squelches from each thrust into your lush heat, and a divine sensation washes over you.
“Goddess, I’m about to make a mess,” he whines, a sound that you’ll never be able to forget. He stills, letting out another beautiful noise while his seed shoots out across his abs, some even on his dark silk sheets.
“That’s just a preview,” he grins devilishly, “Sleep well, Y/N.”
"Many blessings," Father Blackmoor's voice rings out, reverberating through the towering trees of the Darkwood. "Tonight, we honor the Moon and her radiant beauty. Paired couples, please step forward to collect your basket."
You step forward cautiously, aware of Wooyoung’s presence close behind you. As your fingers brush the edge of the woven basket, Wooyoung’s arm reaches past you, his hand closing around it first. His body hovers briefly against yours, a faint smile curving his lips. Sucking in a sharp breath, you pull your hand back as your mind flashes back to last night, Wooyoung’s cock is still fresh in your mind.
"Each basket contains a ceremonial knife," Father Blackmoor continues, his tone solemn. "You will begin the rite by smearing your blood upon your partner's forehead. Then, you must drink the purification potion—the milky-colored vial—and consume the figs, symbolizing your unity. Under the moonlight, you will lie side by side until dawn, as a testament to your bond and in preparation for tomorrow’s Hunt."
His final words hang in the cool night air as the forest seems to hush in reverence for what’s to come. You glance up at Wooyoung, and his eyes are already on you, dark and unreadable, only reflecting the moonlight.
As the other couples start to spread out across the forest, Wooyoung’s hand finds yours, tugging you deeper into the woods. His steps are quiet, purposeful, as the towering trees close in around you both. Your attention snaps forward when you catch a glimpse of movement—there, not far ahead, the same fox-like creature you spotted by the willows. The realization dawns on you: it’s Wooyoung’s familiar.
The creature moves gracefully, leading the way through the underbrush, its magical fur shimmering under the pale moonlight. Wooyoung follows without hesitation, his gaze fixed on his familiar. You trail behind, curiosity building, as the creature guides you to a secluded clearing hidden deep in the Darkwood.
“Thank you, Vixen,” Wooyoung murmurs once you’ve arrived. The fox-like familiar halts briefly, then glimmers before fading into the air, leaving behind a trail of glowing embers that slowly dissipate into the night.
Your eyes scan the clearing, and you notice the scene in front of you—a circle of softly flickering candles arranged around a blanket spread across the forest floor. The air hums with quiet magic, thick with mystery and anticipation. Wooyoung turns to you, his eyes glinting in the candlelight, a mischievous yet unreadable expression crossing his face.
Wooyoung extends his hand to you, his touch firm yet gentle as he helps you step onto the soft blanket. With a single snap of his fingers, your clothes transform—yours into a sheer white nightgown, his into simple black pants, with his chest left bare, the candlelight casting shadows over his defined muscles.
“Ready to begin?” he asks, voice low, eyes holding a flicker of something dangerous yet enticing.
You nod, your breath catching for a moment. Reaching into the basket set down beside him, your fingers curl around the cool metal of the ceremonial blade. Together, your voices join in a low, rhythmic chant, weaving through the night air. The ritual words hang heavy between you as you press the blade to your finger, feeling the sharp sting as blood wells up. Stepping closer, you bring your hand to his forehead, smearing an upside-down cross on his tanned skin, the blood vivid against his complexion.
Without a word, you hand the blade to Wooyoung, your fingers brushing his in the exchange. He mimics your actions, the cool sting of the knife barely registering as he pricks his finger, marking your forehead with the same crimson anti-cross. The flames around you leap higher, responding to the magic building in your chant.
The moonlight glistens against his skin, bathing him in an ethereal glow as he lifts the purification potion from the basket. He drinks deeply, eyes never leaving yours, and then hands the vial to you. You take it from him, your pulse quickening as you lift it to your lips, the magic binding you both growing stronger with each word, each action.
His eyes darken; trailing over your nearly naked body. They land on your peaked nipples, and he lets out a deep exhale while his eyes are glued in place.
“Um, figs,” Wooyoung clears his throat, momentarily dazed, shaking his head as if to regain focus. He grabs one from the basket, handing you the other. You sink your teeth into the fruit’s tender skin, its bright red flesh spilling a sweet, rich juice onto your lips. A single drop escapes and trails down your chin, and you catch Wooyoung watching, his gaze lingering longer than usual. But he doesn’t say a word. Not yet.
You quickly wipe away the juice, trying to ignore the flush creeping up your neck. “So… what now?” you ask, your voice more uncertain than you intended. You’ve both completed the ritual, but the tension between you is undeniable. Neither of you has acknowledged last night’s activities, though you’re certain it’ll come up eventually. It has to.
He shifts slightly, his eyes scanning your face, and for a moment, it seems like he’s about to bring it up. His lips twitch into a half-smile, “I’ve got an idea or two.”
You’re not sure how it happened—one moment you’re standing, the next you’re lying beneath him. Wooyoung hovers above you, his arms on either side of your head, eyes gleaming with that familiar intensity. His body is close enough to feel the heat radiating off him, and your pulse quickens as his breath brushes against your skin.
Without notice, his lips crash down onto yours. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, moaning when your hands twist in his hair.
He presses his hips down into yours, letting you feel how worked up he’s already become.
“We're technically not supposed to do anything tonight,” Wooyoung says, his voice low and teasing once he pulls back. A mischievous glint sparkles in his eyes as he adds, “But a rule’s never stopped me before.”
You pull his head back down to yours, kissing him languishingly as he rolls his hips into yours again.
“Do you want to keep going?” he asks, this time pressing his length right up against your covered heat.
Wooyoung’s lips curl into a devilish smile when you whine incoherently about wanting more.
“Answer me, honey. Do you want more?” He asks with a growl, but the intensity in his gaze makes it clear—he already knows the answer.
“Yes,” you beg, “More. Please!”
He grabs handfuls of the fabric at your sides, bunching it up around your waist before he descends below.
Your dewy center is covered in a heavy coating of your arousal. Spellbound by the sight, he instinctively brings his fingers to your heat, gathering some of your transparent essence and smearing it around your folds.
“Fucking hell, you’re so fucking wet for me,” Wooyoung mutters.
Incapable of waiting any longer, he dives in tongue first, licking a beautiful line from your slit’s opening up to your needy nub of nerves. Another growl resounds from his chest as he devours your sex, his cock involuntarily twitching when he sinks two fingers back to your opening. Wooyoung strokes his saturated fingers through your slit before sinking them inside your soft flesh, feeling your inner walls clench around them.
He pulls them out and admires how your hole instinctively sucks his digits back in where they belong.
“Such a tight little cunt. It’ll be ruined by tomorrow night,” Wooyoung groans; despite his words, there’s nothing but appraisal in his voice. He looks up at your body, meeting your eyes. His flash with a dark dominance, lust with a dash of something else flicker in them.
His devilish words only excite you further, and more of your sticky arousal coats his hand. Each curl of his fingers brings you closer and closer to writhing pleasure.
His head dips back down, his tongue swirling around your clit before he sucks it between his teeth. Gasping, you buck your hips upward, needing more. So much more.
“I can’t wait to turn you into a nasty little whore. Would you like that?” he asks in between little licks.
“Y-yes” you mewl. “Wanna. Be your w-whore.”
He’s got you dancing along the edge of a very dangerous cliff, and you want nothing more than to jump off, face first, and dive into the waves of ecstasy that await.
He can tell that you’re close; your walls are beginning to tighten around him. Flattening his tongue against your sensitive nub, he applies the right amount of pressure you need to come all over his face.
When he sits up, his mouth is dribbling with your release; it’s a pretty sight to see.
“Not bad for a virgin,” he teases.
Your blissful smile turns coy, “Is it my turn to taste you? You’ll have to teach this virgin just how you like it.”
A deep, low growl vibrates in his chest and the corners of his jaw flex as he stands up, his silhouette outlined from the moonlight.
“On your knees then, slut.”
You twist your body until you’re sitting on your knees, your used cunt dripping onto the blanket below.
“Goddess, I’m so fucking hard for you,” Wooyoung grunts while pulling his pants down.
Freed from his pants, his cock springs out before bouncing momentarily, then stands erect in its full glory. You reflexively clench at the sight of him. It’s just as you remember it from last night.
Tightening his palm around his shaft, Wooyoung begins stroking himself before lining his tip up to your lips.
“Take just the head into your mouth,” he murmurs. “Just while you warm up to the feeling.”
You immediately wrap your mouth around him and a wave of precum leaks directly onto your tongue. Circling his thick tip, you get comfortable with the weight of him on your tongue, learning his taste.
“Such a good slut,” Wooyoung croons, causing your core to tremble from his praises.
One hand moves to hold your chin, angling your head to look up at him, “When you’re ready for more, take a deep breath and take in more of me.”
Hollowing your cheeks, you suckle on his head, letting more and more of him into your wet cave. You run your tongue along the underside of his shaft, the tickling sensation causing him to jerk inside you.
Wooyoung tugs on your hair, softly at first, and then his fist wraps around the handful in his grasp. His impressive length fills your mouth, his immense girth cracking your jaw open with each gentle thrust.
Words of encouragement spill from his lips, giving you the confidence to suck in the final inch of his member.
Involuntarily, you gag around his cock when his thick head hits the back of your throat. Tears sting the corner of your eyes, falling soon after.
Without warning, his length surges into your throat and Wooyoung lets out a stream of colorful expletives as his release hits him. His hips jerk once more, and he tosses his head back underneath the moonlight.
You shudder, feeling his thick cum stick to the walls of your throat.
“Goddess,” he hums, “Sorry about that.” Wooyoung slips out of your mouth, admiring as you use the back of your hand, you wipe your soddened mouth.
“It’s okay. Now I know what to expect.”
Wooyoung pulls you into his embrace, and you both settle into the quiet rhythm of the night, staring up at the stars as they shimmer in the sky. His warmth surrounds you, grounding you amidst the cool breeze.
He shifts slightly, turning on the blanket to meet your gaze. “I need to warn you about tomorrow,” he begins, his voice lower, more serious. “The potion we warlocks take before the ceremony… it makes our animalistic instincts take over. It’s going to be rough. That’s why I’ve been preparing you, so to speak.”
A knot twists in your stomach at his words. You hadn’t realized the full extent of what tomorrow held, but now it makes sense. That’s why they call it the Hunt, you think, You’re basically their prey. The pieces finally click into place. His honesty, though jarring, makes you feel strangely grateful that he’s letting you in on something you weren’t aware of.
“I trust you,” you whisper softly. “You haven’t hurt me so far, so I’m not worried about tomorrow.”
Wooyoung’s chest rises as he takes a deep breath, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. He silently prays to Goddess Peralia that he won’t bring you any harm during the Hunt. The uncertainty flickers in his eyes for just a moment before he pulls you closer, wrapping you in his warmth.
“Come here,” he murmurs, his voice gentle as you settle against his chest. His heart beats steadily beneath your ear, and soon your breaths fall in sync, the sound of the wind rustling through the Darkwood easing you both into a peaceful silence.
As the stars twinkle above, the night’s calm surrounds you like a protective cocoon, lulling you into sleep. You drift into a deep, restful slumber, cocooned in his arms, feeling the peace before the inevitable storm of tomorrow.
“The Insatiable Hunt begins,” one of the warlocks grins darkly before tossing back the elixir, the liquid shimmering as it slides down his throat. Wooyoung raises his glass in silent agreement, his eyes flashing with excitement before he gulps it down, feeling the fiery potion race through his veins. The others follow suit, the room buzzing as they prepare for the night ahead.
They pull on their wolf masks, transforming from men into primal hunters, instincts sharpening with every heartbeat. The thrill of the chase hangs thick in the air as they line up, muscles tensed, waiting for the doors to open.
Wooyoung’s body hums with the effects of the potion, a burning heat spreading through his skin. His senses sharpen—your scent lingers, intoxicating and irresistible. His pupils dilate as your essence floods his nostrils, every fiber of his being urging him forward. The others grin beneath their masks, but his focus is single-minded: you.
The doors creak open with a loud thud, unleashing them into the night. With a guttural growl, Wooyoung sprints into the woods, his feet pounding the earth as he follows your trail, the scent drawing him deeper into the Darkwood. His heart races, blood pumping with one singular purpose: to find you. To claim his prize.
Wooyoung moves like a shadow, effortlessly twisting and turning through the woods, his heightened senses guiding him closer to your trail. Each subtle shift in the air tells him you're near. He slows as he approaches a dense thicket, his instincts screaming at him to be cautious. He can feel you hiding, watching, waiting.
His cock strains when he catches a whiff of your scent, his hardened member straining against the tightness of his pants as it begs to bury itself deep inside of you.
His eyes narrow, hyper-focused on the faintest rustle of leaves. You dart from the bushes, sprinting through the underbrush, your breath quickening as you distance yourself from him. He follows silently, his steps deliberately soundless as he stalks you.
You duck behind a tree, pressing your back against its trunk, heart pounding in your chest. Straining to listen, you hear... nothing. No footsteps, no rustling—nothing. A chill creeps up your spine. Slowly, you peek around the tree, scanning the shadows. There’s no sign of him.
Relief barely has time to settle in before you turn back and scream.
He’s right there, inches away.
"Gotcha," Wooyoung growls, his voice low and menacing, his breath hot against your skin. With a wicked grin, he grabs your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze as he slams your back against the rough bark of the tree. The impact sends a jolt through your body, your heart racing even faster now. His grip tightens, but not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who’s in control.
His eyes glint through the wolf mask with a dangerous mix of hunger and satisfaction, the thrill of the Hunt evident in every line of his expression.
Wooyoung's grip tightens, his breath hot against your ear as he growls, “I can’t wait to split you in half with my cock.”
Before you can react, he spins you around, pressing your chest against the rough bark of the tree. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as his hands slide down your sides, firm and unyielding.
He blames his newfound animalistic behavior for how fast he rips away your crimson cloak and the layers beneath it, leaving the shredded fabric scattered across the mossy forest floor.
In one swift movement, Wooyoung uses a knee to spread your legs and sinks into your inviting opening without warning. Tears sting your eyes from the sudden intrusion, but the pain quickly turns into mind-shattering pleasure.
“Taking it so well, aren’t you, slut?” he purrs, voice low and dripping with praise. The raw, commanding edge in his tone sends shivers through you, your insides tightening around him in response.
You hum an incoherent response, unable to form words when his cockhead is pressed against the swell of your cervix.
After ripping his mask off, Wooyoung’s fingers press into your hips. He holds you steady as he moves, each thrust punctuated by dark whispers of just how perfectly he fits inside you.
Wooyoung’s grin brushes against your neck as he drags his tongue up the curve of your skin, leaving a lingering lick before pressing a kiss just below your ear. His hips pull back slowly, his length retreating from your slick folds until only the tip remains, teasing you.
Then, with a low growl, he thrusts forward, filling you entirely in one fluid motion, claiming every inch as he sinks deep inside.
The sudden motion causes you to moan uncontrollably, his girth continuing to stretch out your soft walls. Your soaked cunt splitting open around Wooyoung’s enormous girth only causes him to swell more, if that’s even possible.
“M-more, please!” you whimper.
Wooyoung clenches his jaw, feeling your wetness ooze out where your bodies meet with each quick thrust.
One of his hands squeezes your side, the other falls to your round ass, and his claw-like nails scratch across your skin before he pulls his hand back to spank you. Your vision blurs from the impact, and you push your hips out, asking for more.
“Again,” you whine, your head digging further into the tree’s bark.
You bite down on your lower lip, anticipation building as you brace yourself. A sharp crack echoes through the air as his hand comes down against you, harder this time and sending another sting that radiates through your skin.
A moan slips past your lips, the sharpness transforming into pleasure that courses through your body. His fingers trace the spot he’s just marked, his low chuckle rumbling against your ear.
"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice rich with approval, each word sending shivers through you. “Turn around. I want to look at you," he demands next, his voice gritting through his teeth.
You obey, slowly turning to face him, your heart racing under his intense gaze. His eyes roam over you, filled with a mix of hunger and admiration that makes you feel both vulnerable and exhilarated.
Wooyoung cups your chin, tilting your face up toward him. His thumb brushes over your swollen lips as he drinks you in. "Look at you," he whispers, almost to himself, his thumb slipping inside your mouth. Instinctively, you wrap your lips around it, meeting his gaze as you lightly suck, earning a dark smile from him.
"You're perfect," he murmurs, his free hand tracing down your body, grazing every curve and leaving a trail of heat in its wake. "And you're all mine tonight." His words trail off as his length pounds into you again.
He watches as your lips part, head tilting back in pure bliss, and takes his chance. His mouth crashes onto yours, tongue slipping between your lips with a raw desire, claiming every inch he can reach. The kiss is deep and possessive, leaving you breathless as his hand tangles in your hair, keeping you close.
His tongue strokes against yours, tasting every gasp and moan you release, as if he’s memorizing the way you feel beneath him. You melt into his kiss, losing yourself in the heat, the way he consumes you with each movement.
When he pulls back, Wooyoung drags his lips against the shell of your ear to whisper, “Is this what you want? Your little virgin cunt destroyed?”
“Yes,” you moan, voice low and thick with desire. Then, locking eyes with him, you let a wicked smirk curve your lips, meeting his heated gaze with a look as dangerous as his own. "Ruin me," you breathe, each word dripping with a challenge that sends a spark down his spine.
A growl escapes his lips, and his grip on you tightens. He pushes you against the rough bark, lifting your leg to wrap around his waist as his eyes darken with pure, animalistic hunger. “You want to be ruined?” he whispers, his voice a low rasp against your ear as he pulls your hips even closer. “Careful what you ask for.”
His thrusts come harder, relentless, each one leaving you trembling and gasping as he takes you to the edge, only to pull you back before you can fall. His hand slides up your throat, a possessive touch that’s somehow both gentle and commanding as his thumb grazes your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze.
"You’re mine," he growls, eyes blazing, his body pressed against yours with no space left between you. He savors every inch of you, watching your face intently as he ravages you with a merciless rhythm, his fingers digging into your waist. “And I’m not stopping until you’re completely undone.”
Your moans grow louder, filling the night air and mingling with the rhythmic slap of your bodies moving in unison. The sounds echo through the Darkwood, a primal symphony that seems to resonate with the forest around you, intensifying with each frenzied thrust.
Wooyoung feels your walls clench tightly around him, a signal that you’re close to unraveling. “Cum around my cock, honey,” he rasps, his voice laced with possessiveness. “I know you’re close.”
He quickens his pace, pounding into you with a newfound urgency, while his fingers find their way to that sensitive spot between your legs. The moment his thumb and forefinger pinch your aching nub, pleasure spirals through you like wildfire.
You scream his name, your body seizing up as waves of ecstasy crash over you, each pulse flooding your veins with tingling heat.
He watches you intently, captivated as your face twists in bliss, feeling you squeeze around him, almost pulling him over the edge.
A low growl escapes his lips, and with two final, frenzied thrusts, he buries himself as deeply as he can, his abs contracting as he spills himself inside you. His teeth graze your bare shoulder, biting down as he rides out his release, filling you with a heat that leaves you both breathless.
“Oh, praise Satan,” he gasps, letting out a shaky laugh as he presses his forehead against yours. The two of you catch your breath together, heartbeats slowing, tangled in the afterglow.
You collapse entirely into his arms, utterly spent and trembling, every muscle deliciously exhausted as you sink into the darkness of sleep that lingers at the edge of your consciousness. A grin tugs at your lips, satisfaction mingling with exhaustion as you surrender to it, the night’s events replaying like a forbidden lullaby.
Nothing in your dreams could ever compare to the raw, disgraceful, dangerously addictive reality you’ve just experienced. Wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, you let go, falling into a slumber filled with echoes of his touch.
The room is loud with the sound of laughter, clinking goblets, and whispered gossip. Candles cast a warm glow over the grand hall as platters of food float between the seated bodies; you're barely listening though, too hyper-aware of Wooyoung sitting beside you.
You steal a glance at him from across the table. He’s watching you, his gaze steady and unwavering. A secret smirk plays at the corner of his lips, one that makes your cheeks burn under the soft glow of the chandeliers. It’s almost unbearable, this tension simmering between you, each stolen look as dangerous as a spark near dry wood.
His fingertips graze yours under the table, sending a rush through you each time. You both know the game you’re playing—pushing boundaries, daring each other, waiting for one of you to make the next move.
Finally, he leans in, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “Let’s get out of here.”
"We can’t just leave," you mumble, finally meeting his burning gaze. There's a warning in your eyes, but he ignores it, his grin only growing.
You bite your lip, glancing around at the oblivious faces around you. "It’s the middle of the feast," you continue, though your resolve is already faltering. "People will notice."
"Let them," he says, the mischief in his tone unmistakable.
He stands and takes your hand, his grip both gentle and possessive as he leads you out, weaving through the tables with a confidence that dares anyone to question him.
Whispers and side glances follow, and you try to ignore the burning stares—hungry warlocks with dark eyes, envious witches with guarded whispers.
Everything has changed.
Wooyoung’s presence grounds you, his thumb brushing reassuring circles against your skin. And when he glances back at you, tilting his head in that familiar way with a smirk tugging at his lips, you realize that somehow—despite all the chaos of this past week—some things aren’t so different after all.
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