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waywardimpalawriter · 4 years ago

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Hi love! Can I get Smut prompt 126 with Bucky Barnes? I love James 🥵

Well hello doll, wow I’m very honored to have you send in this prompt and a little nervous lol. I agree with ya there James is so yummy and fun to write for to. I hope you like it hun.

Smut prompt #126 “You don’t have to be gentle with me, I don’t break easily.” (In bold)

NSFW +18 no minor’s please

Warnings = smut, unprotected sex (wrap if your gonna tap)

James, “Bucky” Barnes x Plus size reader

Okay so this got a way from me and is longer than I intended it to be lol (sorry, not sorry)

Smut Prompt list here

Three months that’s how long you’ve been dating, you haven’t pushed to much. Knowing this whole relationship thing hasn’t come back to him yet. Uncertain how to brooch the subject without it becoming weird. You didn’t want to scare him off that should’ve already happened given the fact that your not a size two. But Bucky chose you over everyone else he could’ve dated. Treating you like a china doll, gentle, fragile four words that make you growl low. Spitting curses under your breath while heading back to your apartment. Having seen the smirk on Nat’s face knowing better than to have spoken to her about the problem. Only getting a smile ‘Talk to him Y/N’ making you roll your eyes and stock out.

Nearing your door, placing a hand on the cool wood body thumping with need from watching Bucky and Steve work out. The play of muscles on that man’s back, his delicious arm flexing and the veins in his human arm Gods don’t even get you started. Seeing the way his black t-shirt clung to his form, ass hugging sweat pants that had you rolling. You wanted to jump his bones right then but turned and left missing the confused look in the cerulean eyes. Having caught the sight of you entering, he misses the next punch that lands him on his ass with a deep chuckle from Steve.

“Should’ve been paying attention Buck instead of watching Y/N’s ass,” extending his hand to help Bucky up getting a groan vibrating from the other man’s chest.

“Fuck you Punk,” getting to his feet and moving to grab up the towel, wiping the sweat from his brow. His focus being shit for the last few days, his thoughts straying to you.

Shaking his sandy blonde head, “Go, we ain’t gonna get anything else done today with your brain focused on her.”

“Little brain don’t you mean Steve,” gruff laughter echoing through the gym as Sam comes over, mirth dancing in those deep ochre eyes. “What’s the matter Buck you can’t satisfy my girl anymore?”

Fire dancing as his eyes landing on the Falcon who keeps the smirk spread across his lips. Knowing he’s hit or so he thinks, a little to close to home. “She ain’t your girl Wilson leave off,” heading for the door determined to find out just why you’ve been ducking him for the last several days.

Which brings us back to you leaning against your door eyes closed tightly memories cycling through your mind of all the times you and Bucky made love. Soft whimpers leaving your lips chased by a heavy dose of frustration and need. Hand slamming palm flat against the door, you didn’t want to worry Bucky but you needed more, wanted more. You also knew the way you’ve handled the situation isn’t the best especially when you hear a throat clear behind you.

Tensing up, forehead still resting against the door that you turn to see Bucky, tight black t-shirt clinging to that scalped chest. Sweat beading along his forehead to slide down his cheek lower to tip toe the lovely expanse of his neck you want to place your lips against. Swallowing you straighten and turn to face him, “Hey Buck what brings you by?”

“We need to talk,” voice flat, keeping his emotions closed off so he doesn’t show you how worried he truly is.

Nodding, reaching for the door handle as Bucky nears unconsciously pressing his chest against your back. The contact makes you stiffen and try to stifle a moan with having him so close. Hand shaking so that you barely can get it pulled down and pushed open. Knowing you needed a clear head for this talk yet how can you when Bucky is looking like a fucking status come to life. You’re all but drooling when you turn to face him and that lethal stance he’s taken up. Arms crossed over his chest making his muscles look ever bigger, one leg stepped to the side while the other remains straight. He’s such a fucking tease to you but totally unaware of the effects he causes you.

“Fuck no one should look that sexy,” thinking you’ve said the words to yourself but the rambling groan from the man opposite you tells a different story. Swallowing you eyes raise to catch his, this time you can see the heat and desire coloring those lovely eyes pitch.

Stepping towards you, hands fisting at his side the soft whirl of his vibranium plate’s the only sound besides the deep breathing of you both. “If that’s what you think doll then way have you been ducking me?”

Chewing your bottom lip, arms crossing just under your heavy breasts pushing them up. Gaining his attention and the slow slide of his tongue over his lips. Mesmerized by the sight no words form in your mind till that smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. Snapping you from the stupor you found yourself in for a moment.

“I haven’t been ducking you Buck,” to prove his point you turn to head towards the little kitchenette for a bottle of water. Finding yourself thirsty but for more than water. Parched to the point you maybe ready to beg the man who you turned your back on to just take you right here.

Something you knew better than to do with his light footsteps he’s behind you again, pressing his chest against your back. Hands on either side on the fridge, sandwiching you in with his super solider body. Regretting choosing the thin workout shorts and tank top, feeling the heat radiate from him making you pant with need.

“Don’t believe you baby girl, you did it just now,” voice smooth as silk against your ear. Minty breath fanning over the shell with his cheek pressed lightly against your head. Taking in the soft scent of your hair and skin the scent shooting straight to his harden cock making him throb with need.

Knowing all you have to do is turn and his lips would be on yours in a hot second. You hold out trying to form some kind of coherent thought which is almost fucking impossible with Bucky pressing into you. “I didn’t,” bitting your bottom lip to keep the whine from leaving you lips. Feeling the cool metal of his fingers slide down your bare shoulder to wrap lightly around your wrist. That’s when you snap turning quickly in his embrace, fire snapping in your eyes that makes him pause and take a step back.

“Y/N?” confusion making the pupil retract just as his body does. “Did I do something…”

Growling in frustration to slap at his chest, “Yes you did that’s the problem Barnes, you’ve done it to fucking well in fact.” Watching him recoil a step, makes your eyes close to reign yourself in. “Why do you have to be so damn gentlemanly? Treating me like a fucking piece of glass.”

“Y/N I’m not following you,” even more confused than before yet its mixed with desire. That coats his veins, making his cock twitch at your aggressiveness. Trying to bring. himself under control, not wanting to hurt or scare you.

“Ugh,” tossing your hands up, slapping his chest again. “You don’t have to be gentle with me, I don’t break easily James.” Praying he get’s what your meaning seeing his brow dip makes you angry and you step forward roughly pulling him against you. Crashing your lips into his, nipping at the plush bottom lip demanding entry. When he remains unmovable your heart sinks and you pull back. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” words whispered from tingling lips, body stiff against the island, hands balled tight to keep from roughly pulling you back to him.

Rolling your eyes to look up at him, soft gasp parting your lips at the return of those lust blown black eyes. “You won’t James I know you won’t but sometimes…” sighing shaking your head then look away taking a step.

“Sometimes what?” vibranuim hand shooting out to grab your bicep to keep you from bolting. “What do you need Y/N tell me.” Gods his voice is deep and gravelly, it takes all your power to keep from flinging yourself back into his arms and demand he fuck you now. Thick thighs rubbing together with one simple possessive hold on your body.

Stealing yourself to look up at him, “I need you to fuck me Sergeant, I need no want to feel you tomorrow when I’m working remembering the way you made me feel the way you took me.” Swallowing harshly hoping you’ve gotten through to him.

“Strip,” single word leaves his lips, eyes flashing dangerously as he pulls you back against him. Hands one cool, the other warm grip your shoulders. “If you want those clothes you’ll take them off doll because God knows I won’t be able to keep from ripping them off your fucking body.”

A shutter licks down your spine at his tone, heat pooling in your core, watching for a moment the tick in his jaw. Hypnotized by the slow bob of his Adams apple that you don’t heed his warning till the sound of fabric ripping meets your ears and your chest is partly bare to his gaze.

“James,” soft gasp leaving your lips, eyes darting between him and your own body. Watching as his vibranium fingers trace between your the soft swells of your breasts setting your skin on fire with the simple touch, coming to pause between the generous globes. Catching the edges of your black bra, ripping the fabric pulling it from your body to join your ruined tank top. As another gasp is wrenched from your lips this time with a tiny squawk of anger. “You’ll pay for those Barnes,” finally breaking from the lustful haze. Wanting to be angry but finding it hard to maintain the heat behind your words with how his touch is firing off tingles and shivers up and down your body.

Full blown smirk crosses his lips, “I warned you sweetheart,” glancing down to catch how your body moves, knowing from the subtle rub your needing release. “About those shorts and panties which I’m betting are soaked right now. Am I right doll? You know I can smell you right, know when your aroused,” brow lifting when no words meet his ears. He takes a step forward you take one back body bumping against the cold refrigerator door. Some how his voice drops another octave as he leans forward caging you in, mouth dangerously close to your ear. “You forgot to say please by the way doll, remember your manners.”

Watching him pull back to capture your gaze, teeth making an indentation in your bottom lip. He groans capturing your mouth with no gentleness. Demandingly thrusting his hot tongue into your mouth, licking into the warm cavern, to tango with your tongue in a dance that leaves you both gasping. His forehead resting against yours when he breaks. Breathlessly, “Please James fuck me, make me feel it tomorrow, please.”

Deep groan leaves his lip and before you can do anything he’s tossed you over his shoulder, slapping your ass hard enough you know a bruise will be there tomorrow. Only serving to make you squirm in his hold, feeling your clit throb, a moan at being manhandled leaves your lips. Long strides eat up the steps to your shared bed that his tosses you on. Watching you bounce, nipples peaked in the air condition cooled room. Licking his lips, he places one knee on the bed looking the part of a wild man stalking his prey as you move u p the bed to the top. Knowing he has you in his sights, making your body hum with need and reach down to tug your shorts and panties off. Tossing them to the floor, watching his shirt join and shortly after by his tented sweatpants and boxer briefs. Staring for a moment as his thick cock juts from his groin, little pearl drops begging to be licked up sit perfectly on the slit. Til his hand wraps around coating his palm and sliding down the shaft. Desire flaring in his eyes while he watches you watch him. Deep growl rambling from his chest as you tease him.

Spreading your thick thighs for him, fingers tracing your body all sense of modesty nonexistent with the heated look he’s giving you. Plucking your nipples, giving them both a hard pinch that makes your back arch a needy gasp leaving you. Air sucked in through your nose, exiting from your mouth his name riding along on a breathless whimper. “James,” and he’s there slotting between your thighs, one hand wrapped around his shaft stroking twice before running the tip through your folds before slotting at your entrance and start to slide inside you.

Smirking when a huff leaves your lip only to turn into a gasp when he fills you quickly, seating himself deep between your quivering walls. Mouth coming to ghost over your ear, “Hang on doll it’s gonna be a rough hard ride.”

#Smut prompt list #Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Reader #Bucky Barnes smut #Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

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missinghan · 4 years ago

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aria of an assassin ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : assassin au; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 6,2k.

❖ warning : mentions of blood & violence, explicit language

❖ summary : minho hasn’t been fazed for decades throughout his bloodied career until the next target happens to be a black cat and he’s suddenly incapable of pulling the trigger.

❖ note : okay, so it’s been a year? this tiny, stupid blog is turning one year old today? yea I couldn’t believe it either. this is to all of my mutuals and readers out there, I don’t say it enough but I truly appreciate each and every one of you 🖤 I wish I could have written something longer but due to school, this random piece will have to do for now.

❖ the sequel : with felix is out!

one.

“Shit.”

Minho grits in a hushed tone although all that has been accompanying him is the pitiful moonlight and icy breeze dissolving into every fiber of his skin. Every minuscule movement suddenly becomes too irritating to his eardrums. The hustle and bustle life of the city at night. Terrible traffic. Even the sound of his own inhales and exhales.

What is that thing?

He thinks to himself, proceeding to expand his eyesight with the pair of scopes; confusion soon flares into curiosity, then faint anger and dead silence. He swears his heartbeat just paused awkwardly like a broken record for a split second there. Such strange, or odd targets are no stranger to him; nor do they stir something inside the coldness of his rib cage.

Not an easy kill, they say. And not easy it is.

Because whatever he’s watching with his very eyes is a cat. A goddamn cat with a coat as sleek pitch as the dark canvas upon his head and piercing golden eyes. The peculiar animal walks with its head held high like it’s lording over everyone else—such self-reassurance, such radiance some humans cease to possess.

It’s dangerous, they say. But it’s a fucking cat! Irritation bubbles up at the back of his throat, makes his skin crawl, and causes a bark of profanity to leave his lips once more. Has it not occurred to his client that he doesn’t kill children and animals? When it’s clearly been written on the contract? In bold, underlined, and everything?

They could have at least given him more details on what he’s getting himself to this time.

An exhale. He packs up his things, pulls his black cap down a little, and leaves the top of the building without looking back. If he did, he would have seen those starry eyes boring holes onto his back.

two.

The road Minho is walking through is more than familiar. For one, he takes the same path every day to grab a drink at his go-to place—a vending machine near an old, plain high school.

It’s fair to say he knows every corner of the neighborhood like the back of his hand—from the dark alley where bullies beat up their classmates to the small stall of lemonade of a middle school girl who waves at him every morning. He never reciprocates though; it doesn’t feel right. The amount of apathy in his heart isn’t enough for him to act normally when taking lives is what he does for a living.

For two, he used to have a part-time job at that particular high school for an old request. Due to his conscience, he did go out of his way to take the kill outside of the school—causing a catastrophe in such an environment makes him uncomfortable.

Just then, he stops. His brow raises. Isn’t that…

The black cat slinks through the crowd of nosy students in the direction of where he too is heading. It raises its nose and gives the air a rough sniff, making a face as though the general stagnant with exhaust fumes stench of the city disgusts the entirety of its existence.

Watching it take a slight dip to avoid being hit with someone’s bag, Minho holds back every urge to come running at the creature and wrap his arms around its small figure. He wonders how long it’d take for the cat to reach its final destination because it’s definitely taking some sweet ass time to stride through the front of the main gate like a supermodel. Meanwhile, he’s stressed to the core as if the harmless high school filled with teenagers is nothing less than a battlefield.

Is it testing him?

Something is oddly unsettling about an animal staring straight into his eyes. Paranoia fuels the forgotten irritation inside his chest, sets out to make him actually think those golden eyes are memorizing every inch of his feature. Then, they soften with what seems to be exhaustion, its tiny head turning and its tiny feet take it skipping gently away from the scene.

Minho finally acknowledges the knot inside his stomach and the breath he’s been holding. With a harsh gulp, he no longer takes notice of the fact if his cap is hung low enough or if he’s walking too quickly. For the first time in long, a rush of adrenaline hits him hard enough to make him speed walk through the herd of chatty teenagers.

Questions naturally pop up as his shoes kiss the ground, his shadow sprinting into a dark, though familiar alleyway. Was he hallucinating? But he’s been getting enough sleep and eating well. What makes him so certain that it was the same cat? Instincts or some sixth sense bullshit perhaps. If it was the cat that’s assigned to be killed off in a week, what’s so dangerous about it? And how long has he been running for? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? And to where?

“You.”

Half-way through trying to keep his thoughts off of his face, Minho stops himself when a rather feminine voice echoes through the narrow space. Unsure of whether the voice was reaching out to him, his legs stop moving while his eyes are peering through the dark. Much to his heart’s dismay, shivers run up his spine when something comes in contact with the warm flesh of his neck.

“What’s your name?”

Slowly, with his hands on the back of his head, he turns on his heels. “Excuse you?”

You retract your gun-shaped fingers into the pocket of your jacket, phlegmatic eyes gazing at him through the thickness of the night. “I want to know your name,” you try to make your point clear, utterly unfazed.

Minho stares you down for a good five seconds. Neatly dressed in the school uniform, an oversized jacket thrown over your body but no backpacks. There’s a name tag being embroidered onto the fabric in red “Shin Yuna - 1A”. Whoever you are, he’s certain that isn’t your name. That name doesn’t even suit you. That isn’t your uniform.

“What’s the point?” he questions, hands dropped to the sides in slight relief.

You tilt your head, expression neutral. “I have a habit of collecting names of people who tried or are trying to kill me. It’s quite relaxing to write it down on a list actually. You know, easier to keep track.”

He’s trying hard to not let any impulsive urges overthrow the rational side of his brain. Everything suddenly twitches in slow motion. His silence seems to bore you. Your eyes are more dead than angry, more done than irritated. Like you’ve been through this shit one too many times already to care.

“At least say why you’re sent to kill me.”

That, Minho can answer within a blink of an eye. “They sent me because I don’t exist.”

Your gaze glistens with a glaze of boredom. “Everyone said so.”

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock. Where’s your house, kid? I’ll walk you back. It’d be a pain in the ass if your parents found out how you’re wandering alone after school,” he brushes it off like you’re a slight nuisance (which you are). His heartbeat spikes up once at the mention of family, one that you’ve acknowledged with ease.

Your arms are folded over your chest now, to cover up the sudden stab of sympathy inside your chest. “There’s no need. I don’t have a place to go back to nor do I have parents who will nag me for staying out late.”

His mind automatically blackouts along with his senses, blurred with such peculiar feelings swirling at the pit of his stomach. You make it sound like it’s not that big of a deal like you’ve utterly been numb for so long. It’s tragic but understandable. This isn’t the first time he has witnessed a story like yours—your parents, dead or alive, he does not know; by the sound of it, you’re an orphan. Another unfortunate being to graze this planet like himself. This means you can’t afford school, so that uniform really doesn’t belong to you.

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

“It’s Lee Know. Call me Lee Know.”

“Don’t bother trying, Lee Know. No one has ever made it. They never did.”

You didn’t mean to expose anything about your life to a total stranger, or specifically an assassin. However, nothing matters when you most likely won’t meet him again nor will he succeed in taking your life. Even the fact that he chose not to give you his real name amplifies how much shit he does not give about you. You don’t expect anything more honestly.

“Alright, we’re done here,” you feign enthusiasm before clasping your hands together. “Go home. The sun is already going down.”

Strangely enough, Minho can only watch as your shadow shifts to the outline of a black cat before dipping into the depths of the starless night.

three.

To Minho it’s always just another day in the office. Except his office is a windy rooftop overlooking the mark’s exact location. His tools—rather than a computer—is a state-of-the-art rifle with a telescopic lens. A silencer isn’t very important since traffic and people are more than enough to drown out any suspicious noises. Most will mistake it for a back-firing van. He takes aim with no more qualms than one would gossip about a colleague, then pulls the trigger while thinking about what to order other than Chinese for lunch. When the work is done, he carefully packs everything up into an inconspicuous rucksack. And leaves the scene, like a phantom.

It’s always been the same boring, bloodied cycle.

Yet something’s changed since Minho met you.

He used to maintain a cool detachment to his targets. His conscience prefers not to think of them; whenever he does, it’s as if they’re already dead, mobile meat bags waiting to be laid on a cutting board. He doesn’t like to think merrily of his job, he doesn’t see it as helping them meet their destiny. None of that bullshit. To put it more nonchalantly, everyone will die one day. Minho considers it as a good way to go. Oblivious and in pain for one moment before completely gone the next.

Simple. Convenient. Much less agonizing than this brutal world.

Although that doesn’t mean he isn’t traumatized by the amount of blood that has stained his hands. On good days, he might get three to four hours of sleep. Bad days, few minutes to none at all. Terrifying nightmares gnaws at his soul every night, the ugly scar like a reminder of every single one of his sins. He can’t force himself to lose his sanity like any fools out there going down the same path.

“Shit…” Minho mutters, running a rough hand through his hair. He didn’t sleep well last night—like every other night; hence the bad temper and bitter taste at the back of his throat.

After a deep breath, he stares at his Hecate II with mischievous eyes—those of a hunter framed in the expressionless face of an executioner. His blunt hands are steady as they lift the shiny weapon over the concrete of a rooftop, drawing out a dry shot in his mind.

Through his scope, he watches as you’re crossing the road in your human form before stopping abruptly in front of a random tree. You then proceed to squint your eyes and look up in the opposite direction. Minho unknowingly holds his breath, waits for you to release your iron gaze, and move on with your life. But his expectations don’t prevail.

“What the fuck?”

Without much patience, he curses before shifting his scope to the same direction only to find another shadow creeping around on the balcony of a nearby building. No time to think of a rational solution—killing them is an ideal one—Minho feels his palms growing sweaty when a small, peculiar object comes flying toward his way. His head quickly moves away before the bullet pierces through his scope, shattering the glass completely.

“Son of a bitch,” he lets out a shaky breath. Crimson starts to drip down on the side of his cheekbone, but he can care less.

Because that’s the least of his problem right now.

Another subtle ‘bang’ can be heard in the distance, like a broken record scratching against his eardrums. Kid…! Minho’s heart collapses in realization.

four.

It’s not hard for Minho to do research on quite an amount of vital information about you. When he saw your body dropped to the ground lifelessly and an ambulance immediately drove by to pick up your body, he knew things weren’t going to end just like that.

“Don’t bother trying, Lee Know. No one has ever made it. They never did.”

He isn’t a believer, has never been one. Yet when he managed to take out your kidnappers in that ambulance, your weak breaths startled his heart and shook his mind into awareness of how serious the situation is. After that, he tracked down the hitman who delivered the hard blow, put a bullet through his brain, and found an USB full of detailed information about your existence. Which just makes things a whole lot more complicated to understand.

Apparently, you’ve been ‘killed’ one too many times before—there are photographs of your supposedly dead body in a bag, thrown into the deep, dark woods, other times into a nameless river. The thing about you is that you were once an experimental subject to your own biological parents who are sickeningly vile scientists. At the age of nine, you fell down the stairs and had a big gash on your head. They never knew because your wounds were quick to heal themselves. However, your whole life was flipped upside down when they saw you shapeshifting into a black cat while running around at the playground.

From then, your life became a living hell behind cold metal bars with needles stuck in your arms and strange pills being forced down your throat almost every day. Their sudden change only nourished resentment through time until you managed to cut down the laboratory’s power supply and fled from your own home.

You have no one to lean on. No place to go back to. No nothing. And you’re just a teenager.

Minho feels awful.

Usually, he isn’t the type to be empathetic nor does he have the energy to. It’s very out of character for him to let his emotions linger on a homeless kid with some supernatural abilities that will make his life that much more dangerous. Because to him, more often than not, people tend to give their condolences only to forget after brief moments of grieving. At the end of the day, it isn’t their own problem, it isn’t their own life. But now when it comes to you, Minho feels a strong sense of responsibility that if you end up dying, it’s on him.

It’s stupidly conflicted, it really is. His job—blowing people’s brains out—is the sole reason why he makes a six-digit amount of money for every job. Therefore, he isn’t sure what picking a random kid up from a fake ambulance and bringing her back to his shabby apartment is going to do him any good.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

You hate the fact that you can recognize that voice.

Just then, you wake as if it’s an emergency, as if sleeping has become a dangerous task. Your heart is pounding loudly inside your ears, the sound echoing listlessly to the pit of your rib cage. It’s always like this. It takes you some time to calm your nerves before gathering what exactly happened the moment you blacked out.

Right, you think to yourself, groaning slightly while pushing yourself up. You were shot right in the chest, and your body was probably discarded somewhere. After that, you’d grab a hitchhiker so they’ll drive you back into town. Like always. The only difference, this time though, is Minho placing your limp body on his bed with a blanket to warm you up.

His face appears within your eyesight when you’re done adjusting your vision to the bright room—you’re not used to this much light around. “You look calmer than I expected,” he mentions.

Minho grabs your face and scans it over. “Let me see. Did your wounds close up properly?”

The tender action, which has become weirdly natural to him although this is his first time, accidentally triggers something inside you. Your hand automatically slaps his away. It is an upfront refusal, but it doesn’t surprise him. He only offers you a comfortable moment of silence before placing a tray on the wooden nightstand.

“Eat up. I’m not going to feed you,” he cocks his head toward the bowl of porridge with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

You glare at him in suspicion. “Bringing me home. Giving me a bed to sleep on. And even food to eat. What are you trying to get at?”

“Nothing. I didn’t kill you only because you’re too young for my moral code,” he pretends to roll his eyes, voicing monotonously.

A frown adorns your tired features. “So you’re going to kill me when I get older then?”

“Probably,” Minho smirks faintly with a cock of his eyebrow. “That depends if you still remember my name, Y/N.”

One thing after another, this assassin only continues to baffle you. He was just going to shoot you the other day and now he’s giving you food? Preposterous! To put it simply, you’re unprepared for such kind actions, such gentleness from someone who takes lives for a living. You’re unprepared for dealing with people in general because they detest anyone who’s different from them—your kind, the kind with supernatural abilities and all. Hence, you’re left unwilling to befriend anyone and would rather be alone for the rest of your life.

Until such twisted moira pushes you to—what was his name again? Not his real name, the made-up one that he uses in the underworld.

You speak up softly after feeling safe enough to let your guards down, “Lee Know, was it?”

“It’s Lee Minho.”

“Pardon?”

He only smiles, “My real name. It’s Lee Minho.”

five.

“Y/N! A little help over here?”

“Coming.”

“Y/N, go check the fog machine!”

“Got you.”

“Y/N, can you put these boxes over there?”

“Alright.”

That’s all you’ve been doing for the entirety of your boring day. Getting yelled out at, having people ask for help nonstop, and responding with a two-word answer at max. You’re not complaining—they pay you well enough, the job is more on the down-low side because you’re nothing but a mere stage crew for an above-average theatre studio. So you simply hoist the three final plastic boxes into your arms with a jerk of your knees and place it where they asked you to. Thanks to your parents, their experiments along with skeptical-looking substances have efficiently enhanced your general strength and agility.

Another crew member perks up when you plop the heavy stack of cardboard boxes down with a loud thud. “Oh, can you carry those lights to stage left too?”

“Sure.” You could have pretended to pick up one box at a time and to drag your feet across the stage with difficulties to avoid being used. But you’re too lazy to repeat the same cycle two more times, so you really don’t have any other choice here.

Nevertheless, you suppose it’s not entirely bad to do all of this heavy handiwork. Because it keeps your mind off of unwanted things, such as Lee Minho for example. Lee Minho, the assassin, not the actor—you’d gladly fangirl over that certain celebrity rather than admit that you actually enjoy the hitman’s abrupt presence in your life.

The fact that you know he will find you even if it means traveling to the ends of the Earth and back doesn’t help to ease your insomnia. So for the past few days, you’ve been working extra hours along with picking up a job at a florist in hopes of not bumping into him. Stupid. You know it is. But how can you deal with a self-esteem crisis because the idea of being a burden just irks you so much?

It’s like you’re hopelessly proving that you don’t need anyone when you, in fact, want that kind of unconditional love that every other human yearns for.

After helping your colleagues out with the lighting, you simply sit behind those thick curtains until the show is over. Then, you head out, find a place to sleep, and head to an old lady’s place to pick up new clothes to change into for the next day. Since she’s been treating you with nothing but kindness, you’ve tried to pass by and helped her out at her son’s antique store too.

Your routine is supposed to go that way and stay that way. You won’t die because you don’t like overworking yourself. You’re doing just great.

“Hey, Y/N! Your brother is here to pick you up!”

Throwing your crewmate a blunt wave, you find your way out of the school’s theatre through a back door without shifting the expression on your face. You don’t have any siblings. And your colleagues don’t know anything about your family background either. So it, unfortunately, boils your guesses down to one.

Despite knowing who it is and why they show up, you open your mouth to speak, “How did you find me again?”

Minho shows up with a more casual version of his working attire—instead of the fully black, monochromatic outfit, he’s changing it up with a leather jacket, white t-shirt and jeans. He leans on his shiny motorcycle smugly like he knows something that you don’t, in which you very much dislike.

“Young lady, I’ll have you know that being an assassin helps me appear at places to do things I’m not supposed to do,” he ignores the fact that your question was purely rhetorical and chimes.

You attempt to throw him a glare which isn’t intimidating enough. “Call me ‘young lady’ one more time and I’ll put my foot where it’s not supposed to be.” Who are you kidding? He’s a hitman when you’re just a kid. Pigs would be flying by the time you managed to physically shoo him away.

“Am I supposed to guess where that is?”

“Enough. Go to work. Get out of here. Leave me alone.”

“I’m sorry, are you encouraging me to kill people?” Minho gasps, acting shocked and appalled. Clearly, he’s not good at it despite sharing a name with a well-known actor.

You can only retort harshly, “Don’t put words in my mouth, you ass.”

“Come on, kid. Let’s go get something to eat.”

“Why?”

His hand automatically reaches for your forearm. “Don’t people eat for pleasure? What’s wrong with you?”

Your heart leaps in, anger perhaps, pupils shaking when he closes in on you. Upon your reaction, Minho retracts his arm immediately. He should have thought better of it; you’re probably too traumatized to be dealing with him right now.

At that, your eyes round at the remorse on his face and you could have glared him off right then and there. But somehow, your basic human manners overcome your usual snappy self, letting you think that maybe he means no harm. Maybe he’s checking up on you one last time before going on about his life. You shouldn’t be too riled up about it just because he tried to kill you once.

Minho catches the familiar anxious gaze and sighs, “Okay, we don’t have to get something to eat. I’ll give you a ride back. Do you have somewhere to stay the night?”

It’s rotten work, whatever he’s trying to do. So you shake the harmless tingle inside your chest away before pushing past him. “No,” you answer dryly and leave.

six.

You go to work sick the day after because you couldn’t find a place to sleep in and had to make do with napping in front of a tattoo place. Yes, napping; because when you finally shifted into your cat form and allowed your eyes to rest, the sky started pouring waterfalls. The rain had soaked into your shiny black coat, making it frizzy and luring the sickness up your spine the moment you tried finding a different haven.

No one notices. No one.

Not even the mask, the extra layer of sweatshirt nor your hushed coughs every now and then. Despite downing the cold pills early in the morning, you’re only burning up harder by the second. Oh, you know! Maybe they just don’t care, that’s it. Because calling in off for work due to a minor cold isn’t a valid reason. However, you’re still shivering on the inside and burning on the outside. Enhanced genes or any of that bullshit isn’t enough to prevent you from getting sick like any other student. Perhaps something wasn’t complete, or they’d messed up somewhere. Perhaps that’s why they’re trying to get you back.

How foolish of you to think somewhere deep down, they still want you back. With a reason as blunt as you being their child.

Drowning in deep thoughts, you almost crash into a pile of boxes filled with equipment when your foot gets tangled to a random cable. Your eyes automatically screw shut as you wait for the impact but it never comes. Only a gentle pair of hands on your shoulders did. From that point on, you can’t hear or see properly. You don’t even have enough stamina to register who’s holding onto you so reassuringly. Whatever is happening gets hazier by the tick of a clock. It’s either you’re hallucinating or Minho is giving you that mirthful scowl of his.

Yep, you’re definitely hallucinating.

“Why didn’t you call in sick for work?”

“That’s a stupid fucking question.”

A frown adorns his perplexed features as his glassy eyes skim your face. He has a really pretty smile, he should smile more, you think. His hand latches onto your burning forehead, slides down on the side of your cheek with such grace as though he’s caressing you. A grumble leaves his lips at your dreadful state. This is why he should have never let you go in the first place.

“Come on, kid. Let me help you,” Minho says before giving your arm a light tug.

You don’t like what you just heard. “I don’t need your help.”

“You can barely walk.”

“Who said so-” As if on cue, he lets go of your arm bluntly. Caught off guard, your legs go weak without any remaining strength. You stumble and would have most likely fallen on your face if it weren’t for his grip on your arm. A gasp comes out inaudible when he hoists you upright, not planning to let go any time soon.

Minho scratches the tip of his nose with his ring finger, sniffing lightly. It seems like he’s arguing with a younger version of himself. He now knows how it felt like for those caretakers back then.

“You did,” he says with the same smirk when you woke up in his apartment for the first time.

seven.

That’s the only time you’ve ever allowed someone to help you with something. But Minho had to constantly check on you every two seconds, not wanting you to fall asleep on his bike while it’s speeding down the highway like a gust of wind. For a moment there, he really thought you would slip away into the night as he tried to find his keys because that’s just how you are.

Minho is no doctor, but he doesn’t go to one for a cold or a really bad fever. He can manage, he tries to convince himself.

After testing your temperature and giving you something new to change into, he slaps a cool gel patch onto your forehead before heading off to the kitchen to cook up something. You need to be full to be able to take your medicine anyway.

In the act of resting on his bed, you decide you can’t take staying in the same spot anymore so your body perks up in a sluggish manner. The aroma of home-cooked food wakes your senses almost immediately, causing you to look over at his busy figure by the marble counter. You think it’s endearing how he hasn’t bothered to change into something more comfortable. But he instead threw an apron over his working attire and dived right into the cooking process.

You have always felt like you were missing out on something whenever you looked at Minho. Perhaps it was how his striking eyes stared at you, whether mischievous or else. Perhaps it was how his lips were turning down most of the time with less than affectionate words.

Or it’s plainly how he has been trying to hide that he actually cares.

“Hungry?” He tilts his head to the side playfully once his sixth sense starts kicking in.

You can only nod. “Yeah.”

It takes Minho a lot of convincing yet you won’t let him feed you. Like hell, you would. Therefore, with helpless eyes, he watches you from across the table. He doesn’t laugh or get annoyed when your shaky hand drops the spoon and splatters the soup all over the table. His hand simply reaches for a piece of paper towel to clean up the mess, tossing it into the trash bin later. The same cycle repeats in comforting silence until you finish the entire bowl. The soup definitely wasn’t five-star worthy. But it’s enough to warm you up inside and out. Of course, Minho chooses to let the dishwasher do the job—his hatred for doing dishes is always at its finest.

Then, like the other night, he has already passed out on the table with a blanket draped over his body when you step out of the shower. Instead of plopping the weight of your exhaustion onto his bed this time, your legs stay frozen like cement on the floor while your eyes take in his reclined figure under the thin fabric. Minho is sleeping with his head buried in his arms, his glasses and messy files abandoned to the side. He’s definitely not a heavy sleeper because he doesn’t snore; only feather-like breaths can be heard through this endless beat of silence. The faintly blinking light from his laptop makes you feel exposed so you push yourself toward the balcony.

A hiss comes out hushed and quiet when your feet come into contact with the cold tile floor, bringing you across the studio apartment with small tiptoes. You peer over your shoulder, gazing at the only available source of light. Unconsciously, you ball your fists.

With a soft sigh, you slide open the glass door and step out to bathe yourself in the comfort of the moonlight. Despite the chilling air of the night, something warm fills up your lungs like an overflowed cup of wine. It suffocates you a little until the knots in your muscles and mind loosen; a sense of relief washes over you—you haven’t felt that in years.

Nothing makes sense.

A hitman hired by your parents shouldn’t be putting a roof over your head, tucking you into bed nor feeding you. Minho barely knows you; and your knowledge about him as a genuine person isn’t enough to convince you that this is reality. Because after years of wandering the streets, being tossed around like trash with plenty of a series of unfortunate events, you’ve made it a habit to sink into yourself.

So the longer you stay here, the more you’ll get attached to him. And the more you get attached, the more he takes away your default instincts to turn your back on everything.

Guilt wells up inside your chest as though it’s an old habit, a setting by default. If you ever try to go over the moderate line, you will break.

Holding back a croaked sob, you know that once you let it go, tears will only start flooding. With a push of your muscles, you effortlessly hoist yourself up the metal railings in one go. The wind combs through your hair like an empathetic hand but you ignore it, Minho’s sweater closing in on your skin.

You should leave, you try to urge yourself. You should jump off and dive into the depths of the night, let the allure cradle you in its emotionless arms.

Because after all, despite all those eyes on you out there, you’re ultimately alone within.

A foot dips out into thin air once the slump in your shoulders goes weightless. Immediately after, an incredible force pulls you by the ankle, and to the ground with a loud thud. Minho falls onto his back harshly, groaning slightly with you on top of him.

He knew what you were trying to do, he saw it the other night with his own eyes. Even under the knowledge of your capabilities, Minho still feels a rush of panic rising inside his chest. It’s only until his arms fully have a hold of you does his racing heartbeats slow down. Supernatural abilities or none, you’re still sick. And he’d be losing his mind if he woke up to an empty bed tomorrow morning.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he speaks with trembling vocal cords, in a tone you’ve never heard before. Strict but mellow. As though there’s a race inside his mind but he’s desperately trying to keep his cool. It’s fear. The moment he’s introduced to the idea of losing you—it’s genuine fear.

“Minho, I can’t die. Didn’t I tell you—“

His grip squeezes you in a breath tighter, cutting you off completely. “The fuck were you thinking? You can’t just jump off the balcony like that!”

“I already told you. I can’t die. Minho, I’ve done that plenty of times before,” you furrow your brows in a troubled manner, unsure of how to react.

Minho widens his eyes at you in sheer disbelief. Shock riddles his senses and gets the best of him. So now he’s fussing with his hands, incoherent profanity leaving his lips non-stop within the next thirty seconds or so. He’s usually very calm, collected, calculating, and cold. This is very unlike him. It makes you wonder why he’s acting this way. He knows that you can’t die from jumping off a building. So what’s there to worry about?

“You’re such an idiot! Try doing that again and I’ll kill you with my own-“

You truly don’t know how important you are to him. Frankly, he hasn’t even realized that yet.

“I’m sorry,” you say, pulling him closer. Since you’re bad at resolving any kind of conflict, you opt for the most rational solution—going with his flow until he’s calmed down. “I won’t do that again, promise.”

His lips fall agape at your words. He wasn’t expecting that. And even when you see how he’s reacting to your sudden change, you decide it’s no time to back down. This might be the only time you could show him that you’re at least grateful for everything he’s done.

He’s quieted down now. And when he manages to speak again without tripping over his own words, his voice comes out as a whisper. “Hey kid,” he looks down at you, wanting to stroke your hair but drops his hand in sheer defeat. “You didn’t answer my question earlier. Why didn’t you call in sick for work?”

“Who would do my job when I’m gone? Isn’t that irresponsible?” You exhale deeply before fluttering your eyes close, finding odd peace within the rhythm of his heart.

Minho says pointedly, “Well, you could have asked someone to help you with it.”

“No one would help me.”

“How’d you know? Have you tried asking them before?”

Your eyes shoot open and flicker around your surroundings, you’re at a loss for words for a split second there. Heat rushes to the apples of your cheeks in shame, your head hung terribly low. “I’m not used to asking for help. I’d hate to be a burden,” you confess.

Innocence glimmers in your eyes when you look up at him, waterlines threatening to break any second now. Your lashes are slightly damped and how lost you’re looking right now can physically draw crimson on his heart. At the end of the day, you’re just a kid. You had to grow up the hard way, with no one by your side telling you what’s right and what’s wrong, even simple things like how to react to non-verbal affection.

Don’t let her go, Minho. Not now. Not ever.

“Then fix it now.”

“What?” You pause.

“If you need help, ask for it. If things are hard, say it. I’ll be there to give you a hand.”

Tears well up in your eyes, croaked sobs shake your body, only prompting him to pull your closer. It’s warm. Damnit, why is it so warm? “I-I can’t sleep. Sing me something?”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

Minho just knows that he would bleed with you even when the rain pours and the sky falls one day.

318 notes · View notes

chil2de · 4 years ago

Note

How are you today? If its alright with you, can I request a Atsumu x fem reader where she has a super tomboy style and ALWAYS wears baggy clothes, but one day atsumu comes over to hang out and the only outfit she has left is kinda a tight fitting shirt and for the first time ever Atsumu realizes just how curvy his girlfriend is

sorry if thats to specific! feel free to ignorethis!

warning - miya atsumu x reader

hiii! i’m doing okay anonie, thank you and i hope u are faring well!!! so um this ended up being a LOT longer than i expected pls forgive me it was supposed to be a cute lil drabble but now its like uh 2k words aJdhfhhd, i really loved this idea!!! don’t worry ab it being too specific i actually like that and it helps give me a general idea about the req

well whilst this isn’t tooooo nsfw there are a few small themes in the beginning + swearing since i write atsumu like that and implications of sexual content ig at the end but aside from that? just some fluff for our fav king. characters are aged up and i am unsure how it would work but call it anime logic and enjoy! thanks for requesting! (okay rereading the ending is lowkey smut why am i like this)

“b-cup.” atsumu huffed with confidence. he took a large swig out of his water bottle, nodding his head wisely in affirmation.

“really? i’d say c-cup.” suna chimed in, his half-lidded gaze narrowing.

“nah, it’s b-cup”

“what the hell are you two talking about?” osamu interjected, concern and disgust thick on his features as he came over carrying a few towels.

“(y/n)’s bra size” suna nonchalantly responded, his eyes flicking up for a few seconds as he accepted the towel from osamu.

“‘tsumu i knew you were messed in the head but, suna? have you caught his germs?”

“fuck are you making it sound like i have some viral disease?”

“you don’t?” suna snorted, plopping down onto the floor to sit cross-legged.

“why don’t you just ask her?” osamu’s gaze flickered onto yours from across the court. you felt your ears burn from the way the three of them were staring at you.

was something on your face?

a bug? dirt?

“huh? like i’m supposed to say, hey baby girl, what size are your tits?”

“i’m still saying b-cup”

“c-cup”

“i think b-cup” osamu joined in, watching atsumu screw his face at him

“you goddamn hypocrite-“ “who’s being a hypocrite?” kita inquired with a half-hushed tone, making his way over with a few protein bars

“oh my god i’m going home” atsumu groaned, resting his palms on his knees as he stood up. he beelined towards you, his exhaustion painted his lazy smile beautifully. he still had the energy to turn around over his shoulder and flip his middle finger up at his team whilst his right hand snaked around to your waist.

somewhere around your waist. it took him a little bit of digging through all the fabric.

it didn’t matter to him, though. as much of a jackass as he might’ve been, he never judged you for the way you dressed. even if it meant that sometimes you looked a lil bit homeless, at the end of the day- he still had that glimmer in his eyes whenever he saw you.

you would be his favourite baby girl, no matter what.

“is that my shirt you’re wearing?” he hummed, glancing down to look at it.

it was, in fact, one of his shirts. it was matte black in colour, with a small dip that would showcase atsumu’s collar bones. it was a little bit faded from the many wash cycles it endured throughout its lifetime, but he would always notice the small tear in the bottom right section of the fabric.

“sorryyy, i know you just washed it but it smelled so nice. also, wow, did you put on deodorant? you actually smell like a man it’s kinda creepy”

“i always put on deodorant you dipshit, you’re always crying about how pretty my face looks so your nose doesn’t pick up the scent. it’s verbena citrus, buy your own because i know you’ll try stealing mine so i’m putting a padlock on that shit.” atsumu scoffed, digging his fingers into your sides to tickle you as you walked. you squirmed, swatting him away as you dug your hands into the pockets of your joggers. they were not atsumu’s, unfortunately, for you found out the hard way that you would literally have to drag the excess fabric behind you like some train dress or bundle it up and fold it, which, in retrospect- did not look too aesthetically pleasing. you settled for your own joggers and favourite high-top sneakers to match.

“you know you’ll say all this but give me your deodorant anyway, right?” you stuck your tongue out at him. he rolled his eyes, ruffling your hair.

“hey.” he called out, causing you to direct your attention towards him.

he nudged your arm with his elbow.

oh.

“give it here.”

you uncurled your left hand out of your pocket, zipping it up to make sure the contents inside didn’t spill. atsumu slid his right hand away from your waist and opened his palm up, intertwining his fingertips between yours into a tight lock. he grazed his thumb over the back of your hand, giving you a small squeeze.

“that was the cheesiest and most corniest thing you’ve done and i hated it” you made a mock gagging sound, averting your gaze.

you could feel the blush fresh on your cheeks, heart pounding in your chest like it was about to explode.

“wait, you thought i was holding your hand because we’re dating? i’m just doing it because i know your dumbass would get lost” atsumu snorted, throwing his head back in laughter.

well,

you could still see the light blush tinting his cheeks. and it wasn’t the sunset.

“mmm, should i wear this one- wait-“ you grabbed the shirt, folding it upwards as you took a small whiff. well,, you did wear it yesterday… yeah, you did put it in the laundry basket,,, no, it didn’t smell toooo bad, but..

you groaned, tossing it back into said basket as you furrowed your brows in concentration.

you heard the doorbell ring which only caused you to panic even further. you just needed a shirt. literally any shirt. you were about to cut your freaking pants out and sew them together to another pair for a shirt.

since it was a friday, you had atsumu walk you halfway home. you only lived a street away from him, and the apartment was conveniently built on a fork between the road down to his house and the supermarket. hence, he dropped you off and went to the store all by himself like a responsible adult to grab some snacks for the weekend.

“it’s open!” you called out, leaning your jaw back as you shouted in hopes for your voice to travel further.

in that moment, just in the corner of your eye- you saw a familiar flash of black.

you swooped the fabric up, quietly humming in pleasure when it smelled like laundry detergent and fabric softener.

you lifted the shirt over your head, struggling to pull it down for a few seconds.

you admired yourself briefly in the mirror.

it was a casual t-shirt. it reached down to the middle portion of your arms, though it was significantly less baggy than all of your other clothes. you liked to sleep in it during hot and stuffy summer nights, but rarely found yourself using it otherwise.

it’s not like you didn’t like these kinds of shirts.

but when given the option to look “stylish” or comfortable, who wouldn’t pick comfortable? that’s what was important to you above all. clothes that made you feel like you were constantly in bed were a godsend from the heavens.

“hey dipshit, i spent twenty minutes jumping stores for you but no one sold any (favourite drink) so i got you-“ atsumu halted in his steps, the grocery bags curled around his fists were suddenly forgotten and discarded as he caught sight of you through the doorframe.

you were clad in a pair of old white shorts and a black t-shirt, complimentary of the fact that everything else was currently in the laundry machine. atsumu could outline every single damn crevice and dip on you, and he burned that shit so deep into his retinas that he would still see it when his eyes were closed.

he felt his breath hitch, something deep inside him resonating, growing feral like hunger.

he still stood by what he said,

baggy clothes or not, you were beautiful.

but he wasn’t expecting this

“so you bought what?” you inquired, twisting your torso halfway to greet him as you finished brushing through some knots in your hair at the vanity.

“huh?”

“you said there wasn’t any (favourite drink) so you got what? did you fall and crack your head open on the way here? cause it looks like it”

you could feel your heart squeeze, body temperature increased twofold as icy hot waves wracked every inch of your skin. there was a cold sweat that rolled down the back of your knees.

“shut the hell up, i hate you” atsumu grumbled, forcing himself to turn away from you and stomp off to the kitchen with a pout.

“jesus christ give me strength i hate this woman, where the hell does she get off thinking she can get away with looking so good like that” atsumu mumbled incoherent curses underneath his breath, shakily unloading everything he bought out onto the counter and stuffing the groceries into cabinets and the fridge.

“‘samu, i hate you but dude i need twin telepathy, give me strength so i don’t deck this woman right here right now” he cursed, gritting his teeth. his self-control was about to fly out the window.

“you okay?” you popped your head through the door, leaning into the kitchen.

he could see the outline of your prominent collarbones, the way the shirt still fell a little bit and hung loosely off of your frame. he could see the start of your stomach.

god, it should’ve been illegal the way he wanted to grab your thighs. he wondered for a second what it would look like with his fingerprints etched into your skin there.

“want a few tissues and some lotion?” you snorted, nestling up beside him to help. you gazed at him, watching him keep his eyes narrowed on the packet of pistachios he was fumbling with.

you thought it was cute.

“listen- if you’re not ready yet then i’d suggest that you find something else to wear cause holy shit if you don’t get away from me right now i swear i will not restrain myself-“

“i’m ready” you hummed, giving him an innocent smile. you toyed with your hands behind your back, fiddling with them as butterflies swept your abdomen.

atsumu snorted, eyebrows creasing in confusion. he turned to face you, setting the pistachios down.

“alright i’m not saying this to boost my ego, but, what did you say?”

“i said i’m ready”

you watched his brain stir, gears ticking and turning like clockwork.

atsumu let out a low sigh.

“yeah, yeah. well, then.”

his right hand slammed against the wall, caging you in. he leaned into you, looming over you as his half-lidded eyes burned holes inside your soul. you felt the air tense and switch around him, carnal desires swirling behind his gaze. his chest was so close to yours, practically flush, save for the tiniest gap. you could literally feel his heart hammering.

he was so invasive, so close, yet so respectful. he still kept his distance, just n case you changed your mind.

“are you sure this is what you want?” his voice was hot and slick against the shell of your ear, voice husky and octaves deeper. you could feel the sexual tension dripping from him.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against him.

“i’m sure, ‘tsumu.”

a loud chuckle ripped from the depths of his chest. it was so hearty, and fuck, it made you clench.

atsumu swooped you up all in one swift motion, hands hooking underneath your thighs as he shoved you against the counter. he sent everything clattering and thudding in the process.

“don’t say i didn’t warn you, doll.”

233 notes · View notes

gondowan · 4 years ago

Text

Communal Property

Pairings: Din Djarin x f!Reader, allusions to Paz Viszla x f!Reader, Boba Fett x f!Reader, other Mandalorians x f!Reader, big gangbang vibes here lads.

“I hear you Mandos like to share your women anyway.”

Tags/Warnings: NC-17. Explicit sexual content. Established relationship. Verbal humiliation. Dom/sub. Choking. Lots of finnnngerrring (vaginal/anal). Canon-typical violence (Din stabs a rando). Soup, but make it sexy. Daddy kink (ehe). Suggestions of a threesome, gangbang, public use, bondage, breeding, double penetration (if I missed anything please let me know), its fluffy at the end :D

Word Count: 4,709

Notes: <:3c please don’t read if you’re not comfortable with anything listed above lol. Seriously though.

---

It was getting late, and the only clientele left at the dingy cantina were either drunk and rowdy or on their way to out. Which was fine, it was rare for the two of you to have some time together and you relished every second you could get. Din had just bagged a large bounty for Karga, enough that he could be persuaded to take a short break. It had been far too long since the two of you could spend some time together without a bounty puck hanging over your head or fears of Imperials looking for the Child.

Besides, Sorgan was as quiet as it got, and with all the planet-hopping and close calls in the last few cycles, the two of you really hadn’t had any time to yourselves and you were getting a little...tense from the lack of release.

It wasn’t that Din ignored your needs, but rather you were both so caught up with everything that there was barely any time to sleep, let alone indulge in a long scene. There just weren’t enough hours in the day to both take care of the Crest, the Child, and yourselves while on the run. You could tell he too was tense from the lack of physical connection; from the moment you stepped planetside, he was constantly touching you, either guiding you with a hand on the small of your back or

Din was in a mood.

“What will it be?” the barkeep had asked when you both walked in.

Before you could open your mouth, Din replied “Some stew and cider for her please, nothing for me,” he said in a clipped tone, not bothering to look at you or even ask what you might want.

As the barkeep walked away, he turned his helmeted gaze towards you. “Any objections sweet girl?”

You felt your face get hot. “No,” you murmured.

He cocked his head to the side, waiting. He was in that kind of mood tonight. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the barkeep coming back to your table.

“No...daddy,” you mumbled, dropping your gaze away from him right as the barkeep put down your drinks.

“Let me know if you all need anything else!” she said cheerfully as she set your plate of food and drink in front of you, oblivious to what had just occurred.

“That’ll be all, thank you.” Din said, not even bothering to look at the barkeep. She must’ve thought you were mute or the two of you had an argument or something, the air between the two of you felt so charged. You hadn’t spoken a word since you two stepped in, and this armor-clad Mandalorian was basically bossing you around.

She walked away, and you reached for the soup.

“No.”

You blinked at him in confusion.

“I’m going to feed it to you,”.

If you weren’t embarrassed before, you were now. Although the two of you had conversations about taking your dynamic outside the bedroom, Din hadn’t tried anything outside the ship just yet. The two of you were constantly surrounded by others anyway (Cara, Mayfeld, Boba, etc), so there wasn’t much of a chance to be naughty in public.

Except now, you suppose. You should’ve known.

“Mando, we’re in public,” you hissed, looking around the cantina. It was crowded and loud, and you were in a corner booth, but there was still a nonzero chance that someone might glance over.

His vocoder crackled, “Just the first spoonful,” he said, dipping the spoon into the soup and raising it towards you. You knew better than to say no, not if you valued the ability to sit down comfortably tomorrow. If you were really uncomfortable, all you had to do was blurt out your safeword, and you knew he would stop.

You licked your lips, “Just the one.” You prop your forearms on the table and lean towards him, parting your lips, fervently hoping that no one would look towards your table. Din carefully tips the soup into your mouth, watching intently as you swallow.

“Good?”

You lick your lips, despite the (admittedly delicious) soup, your mouth feels dry, “Y-yeah,”.

“Finish it and we can leave,” to do what it is we really want to do, is the unspoken statement hanging in the air. He pushes the bowl towards you; you hastily grab the spoon, not even tasting it anymore. Din watches you eat, unmoving save for an impatient drum of his fingers on the table.

You relax a little, and ramble at Din about this-that-and-the-other to fill in the silence as you move onto polishing off your cider. Din says little in return but traces circles at your thigh, gloved fingers leaving a burning trial in its wake. Right as you are about to finish, a drunken man saunters over. You can smell the stench of alcohol rolling off of him. So much for a quiet night.

“What’s a pretty lady like you doing with a tin can like that?” the drunkard giggles, pointing at Din. “Come with me instead, I can show you a great time, and you can see my face!”.

You sigh, so much for a quiet night, “I’m not interested, thank you,” you say with a clipped smile, turning away, hoping to the maker that he’d leave.

Unfortunately this idiot can’t read the room, “Awww, don’t be like that, I can-”.

“She’s not interested.” Din said, voice flat, gaze still directed at you, not even bothering to give the drunkard the luxury of his full attention.

The man scowls, throwing up his hands. “Whatever, she’s probably all used up. I hear you Mandos like to share your women anyway.”

The air got deathly still. Before you can turn to stop him, Din’s vibroblade is sticking out of this man’s shoulder. He screams, sobering up instantly, as Din twists the blade.

In a flash, the barkeep shows up, blaster in hand, “OUT! All three of you!”, she yells, “Sa’al, I told you if you were going to get in trouble for this shit one day. Don’t let me catch any of you back here again.”

You throw down a fat wad of credits at the table, face apologetic as Din pulls his knife out of Sa’al’s shoulder, returning it to his boot. Sa’al collapses and scurries away in pain, clutching his shoulder. Din calmly stands up, takes your hand in his and leads you towards the exit. You mouth apologies at the barkeep before stepping out into the cool night air. Sorry, my partner is...touchy tonight have a good night so sorry I’m so sorry.

You shiver, not looking forward to the long walk back to the Crest. Surprisingly, Din turns you in the opposite direction, marching you towards the inn.

“Don’t want to wait,” he says. “Besides, it’s getting cold, and I know you don’t like that,” he drapes his cloak over your shoulders, and despite the reaction he had at the bar, your heart feels warm, and you lean into him.

---

The inn is quiet, and you were lucky to get a larger room at the end of the hall. A bath would be nice, the refresher aboard the Crest did its job, but five minute showers really didn’t leave any time for luxuriating. Maybe you could MacGyver some bubbles and really indulge with Din.

Din however, has other ideas. He all but shoves you into the room, closing the door behind him and quickly doing his usual checks for cameras and recording bugs. Old habits die hard. Once he’s satisfied, he sits at the edge of the bed. He pats at his lap, gesturing for you to sit. This had become a bit of a ritual for the two of you, he would often decompress by holding you as you sat there, either in the cockpit or the sleeping quarters. You amble over, planting a kiss on his helmet, and sit down.

Din doesn’t say anything at first, just lays his head on your shoulder. You reach in between his armor to rub at the tense muscles on his back, and for a few moments, it’s just the two of you and the sound of his breathing out of the vocoder.

“You didn’t have to go so hard on the poor man you know,” you murmur as you massage the back of his neck. Din doesn’t move, just continues to hold you on his lap, head on your shoulder as he scoffs.

“I’m getting soft. Before I met you, old me would’ve killed him,” the voice underneath the helmet is deadly. He releases his hold on your waist and takes off his helmet, immediately peppering kisses along your mouth. You knew he wasn’t lying, he had done worse--for less. “No one talks to my girl like that,”.

“It’s fine, you dealt with him. My honor remains intact, I swear.” you giggle as his lips reach a particularly sensitive spot behind your ear. Except the idea was enticing. Maybe you could bring it up another time, when Din wasn’t fresh out of nearly killing someone for saying that. The idea of being sandwiched between two Mandalorians was...tempting. You squeeze your thighs together, willing the thought away as you card your fingers through his hair. For someone who routinely kept it covered, it was so, so soft, and one of your favorite parts about him. Din still kept his helmet on more often than not, so you relished every chance you could get.

His mouth wanders to your collarbones, hand reaching into your shirt, fingers smoothing over your nipple.

“Although Din--ah,” your breath hitched as he rolled your nipple between his fingers, “What was that with the soup?”

“You didn’t like it?” his voice is muffled as he sucks a bruise onto your shoulder.

You loved it actually.

“Need to make sure babygirl has enough energy for Daddy,”. He continues to play with your nipple as you fuss around his lap.“Although...you averted your eyes earlier sweet girl,”.

You whimper, body tensing. Shit. That had one been one of the rules he had laid out for you at the very beginning. Eye contact whenever you were playing. Din loved it because it made you embarrassed to have to admit to your desires to his face and it put you in an almost automatic submissive mindset.

“Are you ashamed of being my baby girl?” he murmured, catching your chin with his hand, tilting your face to meet his. You knew it was a trick question, you could never be ashamed of the relationship the two of you shared. It had grown from just business to more, and despite the near-constant danger, you never wanted to be away from him, and you knew Din felt the same.

“Of course not,” you sigh. You could never be anything but happy to be his.

“Then why did you look away from me?” he asked, keeping your chin in a gentle grip, looking at you fondly, a smile of wicked pleasure gracing his handsome features. His voice was calm, and he maintained an innocent demeanor even as his other hand drifted away from your breast onto your thigh, squeezing gently.

“I was just caught off-guard, we were in public,”. You braced yourself for what you knew was coming-- punishment.

The other hand that had been trailing along your thigh paused, prompting you to freeze. “Well, it looks like you need to be taught a lesson. Always be ready for me, kitten.”

“I think five is good,” he releases your face, hands roaming to your bottom, groping as you let out a shuddering breath, “Remember to count them”.

You burrow your face into his shoulder, holding on tight. Din keeps his gloves on, knowing that you have a special fondness for being spanked while he was wearing them. The leather just adds that extra touch.

The first hit takes you by surprise, and you buck into him, feeling the sting of his hand.

“O-one.”

The second and third hit right next to the first, causing you to moan into his neck.

Din rubbed the growing warm spot on your asscheek, “You should be in a museum kitten, your body is a masterpiece,” he growled, “Almost makes me feel sorry to hurt you.”. He lifts his hand away and you close your eyes, bracing yourself.

“But not quite,”. The next hit has you whimpering.

“Four.” you manage between clenched teeth.

He murmurs, “Last one okay? You’re doing so well.” You steel yourself, knowing that this one will be the most painful. You loved it when he was cold and domineering, playing with your body, inflicting both pain and pleasure at his desire, extracting whatever he needed out of you.

Din’s hand comes down, hard. You cry out, shifting forward with the force, but are caught by his chestplate.

“Five!” you call out, relieved. “T-Thank you Daddy,”.

Din kisses your cheek, phrases of adoration and love filling your ear. He moves you off his thigh, pushing you onto the bed in one swift motion. You land with a soft ‘oof’, getting up on the back of your forearms to look at him.

Din hurriedly takes off the rest of his armor and looms over you on the bed, arousal rolling off his body in waves. His palm reaches down between your legs. “Babygirl...you’ve already made a mess.” Din pulls at the crotch of your panties, feeling the wetness that has seeped through. He yanks them off, making a big show out of sniffing them, all the while maintaining eye contact with you as you squirm under him.

“Is this all for me sweet girl?”. You nod feverishly and Din groans, as he inhales deeply again, your ruined panties pressed right against his nose, “It’s too good--I should just keep your pussy under lock and key.”

“Did the spanking get you all riled up?” he asks, the curve of his cock visible even through his pants, making your mouth water.

“Or…” his voice drops precipitously, “Were you thinking about being passed around?”

Damn, of course he’d know. Your eyes widen and you swallow, stomach twisting.

Din grins as he continues to let his hands caress your hip, “Was that it? Is that what you want? Passed around and used up by a bunch of Mandalorians?”

You whine, biting your lip, refusing to give him the pleasure of confirmation.

A sharp slap across your nipple brings you back to reality. “Answer me.”

You nod, lips parting, unable to answer as Din pushes a finger into your mouth and across your tongue. You lap at his finger, pleased at the subtle shiver that goes through him. He adds a second finger, reaching deep into your mouth, making you gag as you garble out an affirmation.

Din grins ferally. “You know I could call up Paz and Boba, let them take turns on you”. You shudder, the thought of sucking Boba’s cock while Paz worked your pussy was hot. You hadn’t done more than exchange a few conversations with the two of them, but you knew that Din would trust them with his life, they were his vod. Paz was the biggest one and you knew he wouldn’t take it easy on you. Boba, however, would be brutal, possibly even more so than Din.

“Although I don’t know babygirl, I’m not sure I can share your pussy-- maybe I’ll keep my cock in your pussy and the others can take turns on your ass and mouth, keep you airtight and so full. Would you like that baby? Be stuffed full of cock?” Din hums as he pulls his fingers out of your mouth. The image he’s painting in your mind is disgusting and oh so good, you imagine yourself straddling Din as his cock fills your pussy, holding on for dear life while Paz eases himself into your other tight hole and you choke around Boba’s length, utterly debauched.

Din pets your cheek, soft gesture contrasting sharply with the utter filth coming out of his mouth. His hand finally reaches down towards the apex of your thighs, knuckle grazing up and down your folds. “We better train your asshole then, don’t want Paz or Boba to hurt you,” your heart flutters, filthy images of you on your knees plugged up making your blood pound.

“That’s Daddy’s job after all.” he says absentmindedly, eyes laser focused on your pussy as he briefly dips his finger even lower, just barely skimming across your other hole.

“Look at you,” he says, admiring the way you shudder as he inserts his fingers into your pussy, you’re so turned on you can hear the squelch as he pushes in. “Knew you were a greedy slut since the first day I set eyes on you.”

You keen under his touch, mind flying high, pussy throbbing as you move your hips into his hand. “I’m your greedy slut Daddy,”

“Yeah you are, sweet girl.” Din says fondly. You wonder how it is that you’re already this close even though he’s barely started to finger you.

“Can I kiss you? Please?” you whimper, reaching for him. Din hums and puts a knee on the bed, leaning over, chest pressed against yours, pressing a kiss to the underside of your jaw. You pull him closer, needy for more of him as you wordlessly beg for more. He nips at your bottom lip and you open your mouth to let him in, never minding the mess of saliva.

“Never thought you were that much of a whore,” he hisses against your neck, teething grazing along the line of your skin as you tilt your head back to allow him better access. His fingers continue to work their magic on your slick folds, and you’re pretty sure you’ve made a mess on the bed already, and dear maker, he hadn’t even made you cum yet.

“Alternatively…”. Din stands up, mouth leaving yours and withdrawing his fingers as well. You whine at the loss of sensation. He nips at your breast before reaching down to pull his pants down. You swallow, chest heaving as you part your legs further for him. Din rubs the head of his cock on your clit,

“Spread yourself,” he orders with a sharp smack to your inner thigh. You scramble, reaching down to give him better access. Din lets out a moan at the sight of your dripping pussy and your debauched dreamy expression, fresh bruises adorning your neck and chest, all his doing. He loved the way you folded under his touch as if you were made for him, always so sweet and anticipatory of his needs. A beautiful complement to his twisted desires. The thought of it made his heart swell. He was never going to let you go.

Din makes an appreciative noise as you follow his command, lining himself up with your wet hole. You’re breathing so hard in anticipation that you feel light-headed, “Or...I could take you back to the Covert, let everyone else have a turn at you,”

Before you can fully register what he said, he pushes deep into you with one fluid motion of his hips. You squeeze down on him, grateful for the pressure and the way he fills you up every time like he was made for you.

“We could get your implant taken out, make you take all of our loads in your pussy. All of our cum mixing together.” You moan, head dropping back, shuddering as he continues to thrust, bottoming out, not giving you any time to breathe let alone think.

“Would you like that babygirl? Naked in the middle of the Covert for all to see?” you scramble to hold on to his arm, legs circling around his back. You squeeze around his length, getting close, but you don’t dare to cum without his permission.

“D-daddy…” is about all you can muster out, eyes looking at his face but unseeing as he continues. You pull at the arm he’s been using to brace himself against the bed, gesturing at him to put his hand around your neck. He obliges with a small laugh, the span of his palm encompassing your neck, lightly resting his hand there and not squeezing, yet.

“Close baby?”

You tremble, “Y-yes Daddy fuck, please may I--”

His hand returns to your clit and he presses down, taunting you, “You’re close already? If you cum, you acknowledge that you’re a filthy slut who needs Daddy to keep them in check. Is that what you are? A whore for Daddy?”. The hand on your throat squeezes just right and you can’t hold on any longer.

“Always Daddy f-fuck.” you cry out as you curse, feeling your release overtake you as Din fucks you through your orgasm.

“What do you say,” he snarls, ignoring your attempts to scramble away from the overstimulation of his cock and fingers.

You blink and take a deep breath, “Thank you for letting me cum Daddy.” You’re past the point of embarrassment at this point, he has you wrapped around his finger, all mental filters long gone.

You can see Din’s jaw clench before he pulls out quickly and you whimper at the loss of sensation. He flips you over and pulls your hips up. He huffs out as he pushes himself back in, chasing his own pleasure this time, nailing you to the bed and all you can do is continue to take it. Your mind swims as you let out a sob; you’re so deep in a trance that you barely register his finger at the edge of your asshole again. He pushes in slowly, first knuckle breaching the tight ring of muscles as you tense up around his thick finger.

“I knew you would love being the Covert slut; you always need so much to be satisfied,” he sneers, voice dropping even lower as he continues to mock you as his thick cock continues to work your hole and his finger fully breaches your asshole. “Maybe we won’t stop until we’re sure you get pregnant huh? You won’t ever know who the father will be since you won’t ever see their faces.”

You’re nonverbal at this point, your litany of ‘yes Daddy’ and ‘more please’ muffled by the pillow.

“I guess we’ll just have to hope it looks like me huh?”. You groan, too overcome to do anything but moan.

“Gonna give us warriors babygirl?”. Din snaps his hips particularly hard, you’ll be feeling the smack of his thighs against yours in the morning.

You can feel yourself getting closer, the combination of the obscene image he had planted in your mind coupled with the press of his cock at your back and the fullness of his finger in your asshole was getting to be too much. You grip the sheets in a vice grip, mind falling into the web Din painted, of you on your knees, collar tied to a post, all your holes dripping with cum while the other Mandalorians all take a turn at you. So filthy, and you love it. You know nothing would please Din more than your complete and utter submission, and if that involves the entire covert or Paz and Boba, so be it.

Din’s hand comes back up to your throat, and squeezes, playing with your breath right as his other hand inserts a second finger inside your asshole. You clutch at the hand wrapped around your neck, feeling your head swim, closing your eyes as you bounce up and down on his cock.

He growls, biting into the shell of your ear, “Aww baby are you drooling?” he smears your spit across your cheek with his thumb. “Look at you, you’ve only cum once, and all of this is already making you cockdumb. Might have to call Paz and Boba in after all.”

You could only mewl in affirmation, mind floating, body only anchored by the points of contact made by Din’s hand on your throat, his cock in your pussy, and his fingers in your ass. You feel so good being used like this.

“I love it when you’re like this babygirl, so helpless for Daddy,” Din growls in your ear. His eyes are hooded as he chases his own orgasm, the rhythm of his hips becoming more erratic.

“I-I--” your tears break free, running down your cheeks as you struggle to form coherent words.

Din is unaffected, unrelenting in his thrusts against your walls. “Tears aren’t your safeword babygirl. You can do better than that.”

You manage a moan, barely registering his words, cries reverberating around the room as he knocks the breath out of your lungs with each thrust. “Tell Daddy you love this.” he hisses.

“I-I fuck, oh, oh, iloveitdaddypleaseplease,” you struggle to find enough breath to answer him, mouth dry from all your panting, Din’s hand unrelenting across your throat.

“I know you do baby. Is it getting hard to breathe? It’s okay, Daddy’s got you,” his voice full of pride as he rails you, splitting you open, filling the room with nothing but the sound of his cock moving in and out, his hips slapping against your ass. “So good for Daddy fuck-- I’m gonna-- this pussy is too good--such a good girl for me.”

His words fill you with warmth, and you squeeze your pussy against him right as he pulls out. Din moans, his hand letting go of your throat, looking for more leverage as he gets closer to his own completion. “Make a mess all over me babygirl, it’s o-okay I got you,”. You wail and sob as he pushes you over the edge again. All you can hear is your garbled ‘thank you Daddy thank you’ as you thank him devotedly over and over again. All the tension drains out of you, leaving you boneless on the bed, only held up by the fingers still in your ass and his cock.

“S-shit. You made a mess all over me f-fuck, oh fuck.” Din groans as he finishes inside you, filling you with warm cum. He pulls his fingers out and collapses on top of you. Din places his head against yours, peppering kisses all over you as he pulls out, his cum oozing out of you. It’s quiet as you both catch your breath.

You open your eyes blearily, “Fuck.” is about all you can manage before giggling, the endorphins making you feel so good. You can feel Din smile as he lifts himself up, pushing you back on your back. He looks ethereal, hair sticking to his forehead, sweat dripping down his body as he gazes at you fondly. You reach up and caress his face and he leans into your touch.

“How do you feel?” he murmurs, warm brown eyes on yours, laying a kiss on the back of your hand; ever the gentleman when he wasn’t busy degrading you at your request.

You stretch languidly, a little sore, but no more than usual. “I feel great actually. And you?”

Din smiles softly as he caresses your face, “Never better,”. You love all these aspects of him, the bounty hunter, the Mandalorian, your lover. Nothing made you happier than getting to share these moments with him. The two of you lay there for what feels like eternity, happy, sated, no concerns, just kissing each other softly, coming down together. You feel your eyelids close.

His voice brings you back from the edge of sleep. “Sweet girl...we need to clean up,”.

You blink at him blearily, “Ah right...I made a mess,”.

“We made a mess,” he chuckles, pulling you up into his arms (how did he still have all that energy?) before depositing you in the tub and turning on the warm water. Right as the water covers your shoulders, he gets up.

“Where are you going? The water is niiiiice.” you say as you make a big show of sinking into the bath. “Although not as nice as your ass.”

He smirks, “I need to send a message to Paz and Boba. Got exciting news for them,” he says as he turns towards his discarded armor.

Your eyes widen. Wait what?

---

I regret nothing lmfao. This is 100% me procrastinating from the fact that I have six months to finish writing my dissertation nbd. The line “you should be in museums” and “pussy under lock and key” is from Megan thee Stallion’s Sex Talk and Dance respectively. As always, comments/reblogs/keysmashes are always appreciated and give me much serotonin :)

Might do a part two with actual Boba and Paz but there are only so many euphemisms for cock that I know of ahaha.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #paz viszla x reader #boba fett x reader #mono writes

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bibbawrites · 4 years ago

Text

She - Carrie Wilson x Female Reader (SMUT 18+)

Request: girl x girl with Carrie having a bad day cause of Julie and needs to let off the anger with giving the reader an/some orgasm(s)?

Word Count: 1770 words

Summary: after being upstaged by julie at the school spirit rally carrie needs a way to work her anger out, and you are more than happy to be of assistance

Warnings: sex (obviously), oral sex (female receiving), fingering, use of sex toys, swearing, overstimulation, slight dom

A/N: i finally got the motivation to write this and i dont completely hate it which is good haha sorry for any mistakes in editing, i got a bit lazy and just skim read it while cuddling a kitten lol so if theres any mistakes thats why also no hate to julie or flynn but obviously carrie’s girlfriend wouldn’t like them and neither does carrie so yeah thats why they get shit on anyways, hope you enjoy!!!

Tag List: @happinessinthedarkesttimes @littlemissaddict @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @headheartbellarke @lovesanimals @bartok-the-magnificent @juliefromaustralia @multi-universe21 @rangerelik @kaitieskidmore1 @katrina765 @fandomxreaders @ifilwtmfc

“I swear Molina does this shit on purpose, just to piss me off.” Carrie ranted as the two of you walked down the hallway after the spirit rally.

“Do you know how hard I worked on that routine? And she just has to go and upstage me with some stupid fucking hologram act? Which came out of nowhere, might I add.” She continued, and you nodded, not wanting to sat the wrong thing and make it worse.

You stood back and watched as your girlfriend confronted Julie, rolling your eyes at Nick who decided to step in. He never truly knew how to deal with Carrie. He followed as Carrie walked away and you hurried to catch up, grabbing onto your girfriend’s hand as she repeated her rant from earlier.

The bell rang as Carrie turned to walk away, pulling you along with her.

“Where are we going? Science is the other way.” You questioned. Carrie shook her head.

“We’re not going to science.” She replied, pulling you into a janitors closet and shutting the door behind you.

“Oh.” You said, understanding the situation.

Carrie pulled you towards her, your lips crashing against hers. She tasted like she always did, like her favourite peach lipgloss and mint. Kissing Carrie was like the perfect duet, her lips were made to intertwine with yours.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by Carrie shoving you against the wall, her lips moving from yours to trail down your neck, sucking marks into your skin as she went.

“Carrie.” You mumbled. “Are we really gonna do this here?”

She took a step back, eyeing you carefully, before pulling out her phone and pressing it to her ear.

“Dad? I need you to call the school and excuse me and Y/N for the rest of the day.” She spoke and your eyes widened. You could hear the muffled sound of Carrie’s dad talking on the other end. She bit her lip.

“It’s a girl problem.” She said after a moment. Her dad replied and a smile appeared on your girlfriend’s face.

“Yes that kind of girl problem. Poor Y/N is feeling horrible, the cramps are just so bad on the first day of her cycle.” Carrie put on a sympathetic voice and after a moment she gave you a thumbs up and said goodbye to her father before hanging up.

“How good are you at acting?” She questioned. You shrugged.

“Decent enough, why?” You replied.

“My dad is coming to pick us up and drop us home at my house. You’re having a really bad period and you need to get some rest.”

You nodded in understanding, and together you made your way outside, waiting for Trevor to arrive, and once he did you made sure to clutch at your stomach and lean on your girlfriend as she helped you into the car.

“Do you need anything Y/N?” Trevor asked, as he drove the two of you home. “I can get whatever pads or tampons you need, and I can heat up a heat pack or get medication for your cramps.”

Your heart swelled at the caring gesture.

“I should be okay with just a lie down.” You replied. “But I’ll let you know if I need anything. Thank you.”

“Of course. Anything to make you more comfortable.” Trevor responded as he pulled the car into the driveway.

“I’ll go get you girls some pizza. I know Carrie loves comfort foods on her period.” He offered. You and Carrie exchanged a look, but agreed, and before you knew it you were flopping down onto your girlfriend’s king sized bed.

“I feel kinda guilty.” You admitted. Carrie sighed.

“Me too. Why does he have to be such a good dad?” She groaned.

“Too late now to backtrack.” You said. Carrie nodded, rolling closer to you and pulling you into her arms.

“Guess we should just make the most of our time together then.”

An hour and several slices of pizza later and Carrie and you had her whole house to yourselves, with her dad leaving for some meeting that would take several hours.

Carrie had been staring at the wall for the past 15 minutes and you were starting to get worried about your girlfriend. You moved slightly, placing a hand on her shoulder, and she turned to look at you.

“Are you okay?” You questioned.

“Just thinking about Julie again.” She explained, an annoyed look appearing on her face.

“You need to forget about her babe. She’s not worth your time.” You stated, but Carrie ignored you, staring back at the wall again.

“I just can’t believe she upstaged me after all the hard work we put into our performance.” She ranted. You took her hand.

“If it makes you feel better, I thought that Dirty Candy was better by far.” You said, squeezing her hand.

“You have to say that, you’re my girlfriend.” She rolled her eyes, but the light blush on her cheeks told you that she appreciated the compliment. You fell into silence for a moment, before an idea popped into your head.

“Carrie.” You said.

“What?” She replied, without even looking at you.

“Remember that time that Flynn called me your bitch and I got so pissed off at her and you worked my anger out with some of the hottest sex we’ve ever had?” You asked. That got her attention, and she turned to look at you.

“Yeah?” Her eyes lingered on your lips for a few seconds.

“Use me.” You stated. She bit her lip.

“You sure?” She checked. You nodded.

“Positive. I’m all yours to do whatever you want to me.” You assured her.

“In that case...” Carrie sat up, her look suddenly very serious. “Take off your clothes. Now.”

You obeyed, pulling your Dirty Candy t-shirt and your denim shorts quickly, and after a quick glance at Carrie, stripped your underwear and bra off too.

“Lie down.” Carrie instructed, and you did as she said. You watched as she moved down her bed and spread your legs, her eyes never once leaving yours.

She lent down and licked a strip up your pussy and you moaned loudly, not holding back since you knew that Trevor was gone.

Carrie smirked, before moving to eat you out, her tongue swirling against your clit as she inserted a finger into you.

“Carrie.” You moaned out, and she grazed her teeth along your clit as a response.

“Holy shit.” You muttered, tangling your fingers through her hair.

She added a second finger and your head fell back in pleasure. She really wasn’t holding back. You could feel the familiar feeling of your orgasm pooling in your stomach.

“I’m not going to last if you keep doing that.” You breathed out, and she ignored you, curling her fingers inside you to hit your g-spot. You gasped loudly.

“Carrie, please.” You moaned.

“Cum for me baby.” She said, her mouth never leaving your clit, and the vibrations sent you tumbling over the edge, cumming with a loud moan of her name.

She worked you through your orgasm before moving away, and you shut your eyes to take a moment. The bed dipped as Carrie climbed back onto it, and before you could react she was pressing a vibrator to your already sensitive clit.

“Carrie, what?” You asked, eyes opening quickly.

“You didn’t think I’d stop at one, did you?” She teased, pressing the vibrator against you again, causing your already sensitive body to twitch. You bit your lip, unable to respond. She grinned at you.

“How many orgasms have you had in one go before?” She questioned.

“Three.” You answered. She paused, thinking.

“You can do more than that.” She decided, and your eyes widened. You opened your mouth to reply but she pressed the vibrator to your clit again, this time turning the level on the vibrator up. You squirmed, not even having time to warn her before your second orgasm hit.

Smirking, Carrie left the vibrator on your clit, holding your hips down with her spare hand to stop you from trying to move away. The intense vibration so soon after your second orgasm had you cumming again in what felt like no time.

“Please no more. I can’t take it.” You begged. Carrie shook her head.

“Yes you can baby, I know you can.” She assured you.

“I can’t Carrie, please.” You whined. She paused.

“One more.” She decided. You whimpered as her fingers entered you once again, stretching you slightly, before she slid them out and slid the vibrator into you.

You cried out, hot tears spilling down your cheeks as Carrie put her mouth back onto your clit, every little movement sending shudders through your overly sensitive body.

“Come on baby, one more, you can do it.” Carrie coaxed, her tongue swirling against your clit. She angled the vibrator to hit your g-spot and that was enough to bring you to your fourth orgasm.

“Good girl.” Carrie praised, removing the vibrator from you. Your body was shaking and your face was wet with tears. You knew you looked like a wreck.

“I think we should have a bath.” Carrie decided, helping you into the bathroom.

She helped you to sit on the closed toilet, before starting the bath, adding in your favourite Lush bubble bar that she always kept for when you were over, and some soothing bath soak. Once she was done she turned back to you.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” She whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You just nodded, too exhausted to speak.

Carrie was back in no time, carrying two pairs of soft pyjamas, and some apple juice with ice. She placed them down on the cabinet before turning the water off on the bath and adding in a bath bomb. She lit the candles surrounding the bath before turning her attention to you.

“Ready to get in?” She questioned.

“Yeah, I might need some help though.” You replied, your voice shaky. Carrie grinned, walking over to you and wrapping her arm around your waist to help you over to the bath. She helped you climb in before stripping off her clothes and climbing in with you, sitting herself behind you so that you could lean back against her.

“Feel better now?” You asked in a soft voice. Carrie pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder.

“I do. Thank you, I love you.” She murmured.

“I love you too. And anytime, I’ll always be here.” You responded, shutting your eyes as you snuggled against your girlfriend.

And you meant it.

#carrie wilson #carrie wilson x reader #carrie wilson x female reader #carrie wilson smut #reader insert #lesbian carrie rights #carrie is a good girlfriend #trevor is a good dad

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sweettodo · 4 years ago

Text

A little push. ⟿ Shoto Todoroki x fem!reader

word count : 3k.

includes : [ slight ] breeding kink , teasing, smut, pretty much a little dacryphilia

a lil valentines day gift for my lovelies. i hope you enjoy.

••

"I just don't know what to do, it's almost like he doesn't want to do anything with me at this point." Close to tears, sadness could be heard in your tone as your friends console you, attempting to give you advice. Your head in your hands whilst you rubbed your temples.

"No! No no, impossible." Mina reassures, "he just needs a little push, he's probably just nervous he’s gonna disappoint you."

"You know how shy he is, better than anyone else here"

You sigh, you were now officially out of ideas. This wasn't your first choice, but it had reached a point where disclosing to your friends the situation; desperate for their advice. "I know," throwing your back against Momo's bed, in complete despair, "I just don't know how to fix it, I can't break him out of his shell." What type of girlfriend were you? Why did you allow it to get this... this bad? There was no way to put it lightly, or nicely for that matter.

By ‘out of ideas’, you weren’t kidding. You had tried to get him into the shower with you, even teasing him while he worked, buying all the cute outfits you could think of to engine him, trying to get him to do it more often. But it was no use.

Shoto could not be a bigger prude nowadays.

Mortifying to ones ears- a shocked look plastered upon your friends' faces when you saw their reactions of complete bafflement, 'who would've thought?!' Or 'I would've thought he'd be the opposite!' They were beyond shocked, yes- Todo was quite and almost always reserved!

But it's almost always the quiet ones who are hung and the best in bed.

You shouldn't have been as embarrassed as you were- not as embarrassed as your boyfriend, but now you were in desperate need for advice on how to break the vicious cycle that went a little like this...

You and Todoroki watched a stupid action movie, your head snuggled into the crook of his armpit, one arm wrapped around you securly, your arm loosely around his waist, lazily sprawled across his body, in which he didn't mind at all. It was more or less silent throughout the movie, you loved these types of nights; with the daily, stressful and rough hero work you both were faced with, there was little to no time for you to be together for longer than an hour.

Your arm, which was laying atop your boyfriend's waist, copping a feel as you drag your arm back to your lap, the action causing his chest to tighten up at the slight touch. You eye him from the side, seeing that he was actually watching you intently as well. You wiggle yourself closer against him, he holds you tighter; you could never be close enough to him, he was like a teddy bear, one you could cling to all day. He caresses your thigh gently, although you were upset and neglected between the sheets, he strived in other things; that being kissing.

You peck his chin with a little kiss, he brings his head down so he can feel more of those little peppered kisses; you trail up his neck, his hand now squeezing your thigh a little tighter, pulling you onto his lap more so you could straddle his lap. His hands pressing against your hips, clearly enjoying the attention you were giving him.

Or at least you thought.

"I cant babe," he muttered under his breath, your face instantly falling into disappointment, she tilts his head, looking at you with understanding eyes, he seldom if ever let it get past making out; all because of one time where he butted a little too quick. At that point of he didn't even bother.

It was fucking selfish.

"We'll help you, just trust us." Momo pats your back, you were all ears.

Mina perks up excitedly, beginning her in depth lesson, which eerily enough she had seem like she was waiting for this moment. You three were going to help Todoroki, even if it meant you had to do all the work.

With your computer on your lap and your two best friends’ heads peering over your screen, you scrolled through the website with the things that you’d need to execute the plan, “fluffy? Or metal?” Momo questions, a finger tapping her chin.

“Metal.”

You couldn't peel your eyes off of the clock on your phone. You were anxious, the longer you watched the longer time was dragging on. 'Forty more minutes.' Nerves through the roof, heart pounding as you counted the minutes until you knew for sure your boyfriend would be on his way home.

Giving in, you giddily jump to your closet, bending down and grabbing the little pink bag hidden and tucked behind your jackets, grabbing the contents inside, the soft lace outfit you had bought online; Todoroki was far from privy to your plans, only the question, 'what's that' but then quickly dismissing it because he had to leave.

The cute little black scalloped bra and panties set with Shoto's favorite black stockings; that's what was in the bag. Throwing off your clothes and laying the set out on the bed while you threw your clothes in the basket, you were going to try to get him to make the first move for once, ultimately building up the confidence that he had so sillily lost.

You hadn't cared at all when it happened, but it was enough to send Shoto lock and key under the protection of a chastity belt, where he refused to even give sex any thought for the most part.

Todo and you have been together for close to three years; you do have sex- just no more than once every three months. You were going mad the more and more you thought about it, you were touch starved, and clearly he didn't care.

Turning around, slipping the lingerie on your body in front of the tall body mirror; Your tits sitting pretty in the see- through bra cups, the strings of the thong resting on the curve of your hips, you were so pleased with the way you looked, you took a few pictures in the mirror, ‘no harm in that’ you hum to yourself. If this didn't make him want to fuck you- shit, you'd fuck yourself. There was no way he would not become tempted by the lack of cloth on your body, your skin soft with lotion and the sweet spots around your body scented with his favorite perfume. Jumping on the bed, in anticipation, you knew he should be right around the corner from your apartment; this only made your heart pound out of your fucking chest more and more. There was no way you could fuck this one up, you’d be mortified.

"Are you sure about all that? I don't wanna get him mad at me." The idea was absolutely radical, you knew it was slightly out of your comfort zone... but your boyfriend? This was going to be torture for him, you almost felt guilty.

Momo, with the smug look on her face nods reassuringly, "that’s the whole point. Trust us."

Wrapping the pink silk robe around your body when you hear the familiar man kick the shoes off in the foyer, you were feeling as confident as ever. You walk down the hallway, peeking your head around the corner to see Todoroki unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt, loosening his tie in the process; looking relieved to be home, he catches your eyes, looking at you confused at your attire.

Smiling cheerfully, you see him start to smile, “Todo...” he heard the little whine in your voice, he was intrigued with your little antics, you finally come around the corner, meeting up with him half way and grabbing his wrist, “I have a surprise for you.”

He tenses up, but remaining silent and compliant. You tug him into the bedroom, the lights dimmed, you had prepared yourself how you were going to execute this plan, but you felt all over the place from your nerves. You nudge him onto the bed, he plops down, a shaky breath heard from his nostrils.

“Push back,” you command, he listens which makes you thrilled, you pick up his wrist, quickly reaching your free hand in the bedside table, the metal clanking in your hand; which doesn’t register in his head until he realizes he’s unable to move his right wrist.

“Y/n, what’s this?” You ignore him, snapping the other set of cuffs around the metal bed frame and his wrists, “what are you doing?” You slide off the bed, watching him tug at the metal, the devilish smile growing on your face as you watch him struggle.

“I wanted to surprise you, is that okay?” You bat your eyelashes, walking to the foot of the bed, his eyes glued to you, sitting there clueless and overwhelmed, Todoroki totally out of wack, you untie the little tie of your robe, his eyes grow wide, jaw clenching as he frantically tries to free himself.

Your robe pools at the base of your feet, getting back on the bed, you crawl onto his lap and straddle his lap, leaning down to his ear.

“Do you want me, Todoroki?” You purr, his body restless under yours, trying desperately to set himself free.

He takes in a deep breath of air, “you know the answer to that, y/n.” He retorts, now aware of the point of this whole charade, head slightly thrown back as you drag your fingers up to his neck, tilting his head to look at you. His hair falling in front of his eyes, you push back the multicolored strands to look back into his heterochromatic eyes.

“You’re gonna be good and let me take this off, yeah?” Maintaining eye contact, you begin to unbutton the rest of his shirt, his stomach rising and falling the further down you get. He was flustered, and you’ve never felt these powerful sparks igniting within your stomach, you had him falling apart at the seams.

And it was only the beginning.

You peel open his shirt, his eyes stalking you as you continue down his body, unbuttoning his work pants, “uncuff me, now.” He demands, you shake your head innocently.

“No.” He pulls and tugs, but it’s no use, “you’re gonna see how I’ve been feeling recently.” Sneering, you begin grinding against his growing cock, tugging the pants down his waist, the obvious tent making you chew down on your bottom lip, it was working. Your hands dipping down and releasing him from the black Calvin Klein boxers.

Breathing heavily, pushing his pants down to his knees, he was painfully hard, but only growing harder at the sight of you on top of him, he could see your tits inches from his face, but he wasn’t allowed to do anything about it.

You slowly pump him in your hand, little groans spilling from his mouth, tossing his head back with his eyes shut, finally getting the touch he was longing for.

“Stop teasing, do it already.” He grits through his teeth, you giggle, dipping your head down, letting the spit on your tongue roll off and hit the tip, seeping down as he cringes, “y/n, let me go- fuckin’ now!” He thrashes at the cuffs, his eyes dark and angry.

Leaning down, you take him into your mouth, your hot mouth sends his head slamming against the headboard, his body finally relaxing from your agonizing teasing, you hum against his cock, swearing under his breath, the torturous feeling of your mouth slowly moving up as down his throbbing dick; it was all part of the plan.

Minutes later, you’re feeling his breathing pick up pace, his body twitching from under you, knowing he was close to releasing. You speed up as well, getting him as close as possible, being as sloppy as you could, spit spilling from your mouth as you make him look at you in the eyes whilst you deep throated him.

He was so so close.

Your lips leave his cock. He swings his head up, “what the fuck!” He booms, his cheeks red, his eyes glossed with complete and utter anger as he’s now desperately trying to find a way out of the restrains, the bars of your headboard bending from his strength at this point.

Todoroki was so mad, he didn’t even bat an eye at the way he was bending the bed frame that you both shared. The loud noise of the metal bending made the hair on your body stand up on its ends, you slip off of him, licking your lips; you watch in astonishment as he finally frees one hand, jolting up to free his other arm, your stomach is doing flips. He was fucking pissed.

Your boyfriend lifts the other handcuff off the bedpost, grabbing the little keys that were on the bed stand. Standing on your feet, you barely get the chance to make a run for it before you’re behind grabbed by the wrist, your front slamming onto the bed, Todoroki holding you by the back of the neck into the sheets.

“Is this what you wanted, y/n?” He taunts, “you wanted me to take my anger out on you right?” He gives you no time to answer, he rough hand tugging your lace thong to the side and getting on the bed on his knees to ensure he could maintain the strong hold on your neck.

“Well,” he begins, “that’s what you’re gonna get.” It took him no time to slide into you, letting out a loud groan, you’re barely able to move, he doesn’t allow you to look back at him as he begins drilling into you. Incapable of mustering up screams, they fall silent.

His cock hitting your cervix mercilessly, his hips slamming into your backside. He was going absolutely mad, you had never felt him do something like this; hitting new and foreign spots within your cunt that you didn’t even realize you had.

“You like that? You like me fucking you raw like this?!” He pants, “you wanted me to fuck you hard, right?” He grabs a handful of your hair, lifting your upper body up, dipping his head into the crook of your neck.

“Tell me, tell me princess, use your words.” He strains, your hand pudding against his v-line, which was your way of telling him to slow down.

“Sh-Shoto, I- Fuck,” you wail, the continuous pounding against your g-spot making you tremble, he knew it too.

“C’mon, say it or I’ll stop.” He repeats, hips knocking against you, he snakes his right hand around, using his index and middle to pinch your clit; sending you into a frenzy. You cry out, his fingers now working your clit bringing you right to your first orgasm almost instantly.

“Please Shoto, keep going.”

His fingers messily rub your clit, pussy clenching and sucking him in you release all over him, the cum dripping down your thighs and down his cock as you cry out a mantra of his name, tears streaming down your face, your free hand behind your head and gripping the thick hair in the back of his head.

He drops you back down, your weak body making it easier for him to quickly regain a grasp on the back of your neck to keep you back down and pinned, “make me cum princess, you’re doing such a good job- fuck- keep suckin’ me in like that.” He leans forward only a little to fix his angle, hand holding your hips in place as he chases his orgasm.

But you feel as if you two are far from done.

He slows, you were beyond shocked he had this self control, he then stops thrusting into you completely, pushing you down, he drops onto the bed onto his back, “get on.” Leading you onto his waist, you slide down onto his cock, letting out a whine, your head dropping down and your messy hair messily covering your face.

“You’re gonna stay still for me, right princess?” You nod. He huffs, lifting up your hips and picking up where he left off, you immediately cave inwards, mouth falling open as you practically drop your upper body onto him, “sit up- sit up or I’ll stop.” You try your best to sit back up, your hands on his lower half as he fucks you, his hits thrashing upwards into your beaten up cunt; he wouldn’t stop, he didn’t spare you any time as he’s now ripping another orgasm out of you, this time more of your juices soaking his stomach and down into the sheets, the wet spot growing under your bodies as he fills you.

Screaming his name, you want to buck you knees inwards from the pace and strength he was thrusting, you could feel him fuck into you so deep that it sent you into another universe, your head clearly not all there- seeing stars, eyes rolling back and clenching your walls around him.

“Fuck, why didn’t I do this sooner.” He grunts, stopping, with his hands still on your hips, he’s pushing you back down and sliding his hands up your thighs until he pins your legs against your chest, sweat dripping from his forehead as he leans over you and easily slides back into you, “you’re so beautiful- god- you’re so beautiful.” He purrs, his body ramming against yours, cock once again hitting unimaginable nerves as you whine and cry for him.

“Please- Shoto.” You bawl, “‘feels so good.”

It was easy to say that you both were seeing white, you were dizzy and lightheaded, you didn’t realize you were clenching so hard around his cock that he needed to try harder to drill into you, “mh’ keep sucking me in like that, I’m gonna’” he didn’t even get to finish his sentence before he’s filling you to the fucking brim with his seed.

He wasn’t done.

He grabs you by the hair, lifting your head to make him watch as he takes his two fingers and picks up the mix of his and your cum, scooping it and yanking up your head further close to his own, “open.” He commands, your mouth opens, lolling out your tongue; sticking his fingers down your throat, the cocktail of cum seeping down your throat and you swallow, “good- so good.” He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and kisses you, the sweat from his face was remnant on his lips, you could taste everything.

Todoroki plops himself onto the destroyed bed. Pulling you onto his chest, you were beyond fucked out, you could barely comprehend anything that was going around you.

“Don’t get too comfortable, I’m not done with you.”

#todoroki smut #todoroki shoto x reader #bnha smut #bnha #my hero academia #lemon #mha x reader #shoto todoroki

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of-a-chaotic-mind · 4 years ago

Text

Getaway Car

Summary: Reader finally explains some things to Dean and enlists him to help them with it.

TW/CW: Dean Winchester x Reader. Angst.

Requested?: Yes, a lovely Anon said, “Could I request a Dean x reader based off of the song Getaway Car by Taylor Swift??”

Word Count: 1,372

A/N: This one kicks off with a flashback which will be italicized. This is also probably not what you had in mind but this is all I could come up with. I��m sorry if it’s shit. Requests are open and as always love to all!

Prompt: Getaway Car by Taylor Swift

[A/N: I know I’ve used this gif before buuuut I like it so here it is again lol]

Your POV

A group of bodyguards tear off after us as Bela and I take off running across the alley way to the parking deck where she says our getaway car is waiting. She leads me to a sleek, black, Chevy Impala and climbs into the passenger seat, I climb into the backseat and yell at the guy in the driver’s seat, “Go, go, go!” The guy peels out of the parking deck and I don’t bother to look back as we put distance between us and that building.

Finally, after several hours, we stop at a bar where Bela and I have a car waiting which I go to get in but she heads for the bar, “I need food and a drink before we head out.”

I sigh and follow after her as do the two guys to which the Chevy Impala belongs to. Once inside the dim light of the noisy bar, I make myself comfortable at a high-top table and am soon joined by the two guys and Bela after they put in orders at the bar. Bela takes a seat on my right and hands me a drink. I take a sip as the shorter of the two guys takes a seat to my left and the other sits across from me. Bela clears her throat, “I suppose introductions are in order. (Y/n), these are the Winchester brothers, Dean,” she motions to the one sat on my left, “and Sam,” finishing by motioning to the one across from me.

I nod, “Nice to meet you. You guys hunters too?”

They both nod and Sam answers, “Family business.” I nod in understanding as Sam and Bela drop into a conversation about some nerdy subject but Dean seems rather interested in me even though he’s pretending to pay attention to what Bela and Sam are discussing.

Sometime later, after the food has been delivered, thankfully Bela ordered me a nice, big, juicy burger, and we’ve eaten most of it Bela drops from her stool to go hustle in poker and Sam dips out to the car, mentioning something about grabbing a book for Bela. This leaves Dean and I alone. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice him watching me. I wipe my mouth and swallow the fries in my mouth, “What?”

He shrugs, “Nothing, just wondering.”

“About?” I inquire before tossing a couple more fries into my mouth.

“How you and Bela met and why you still hang around her,” he replies, “She betrayed us pretty soon after we first met her.”

I laugh, “She’s my cousin and she doesn’t have anyone else. It’s kind of hard to get rid of her.” He nods as he goes back to his food.

The rest of that night, he and I spent getting to know a little more about each other and somewhere along the way, I found myself way too interested in him. That’s when I decided that I would leave tomorrow morning with Bela and pray that I’d never run into him again. Unfortunately, Bela had other ideas. When she later returned to the table, she announced that Sam had found the four of us a case and we’d be going with them the next morning.

I suppose that in retrospect, I should thank her. She set into motion one of the wildest rides I’ve ever been on. Dean and I grew pretty close over the span of just a couple of weeks and by the time Bela decided it was time to part ways from the Winchester brothers, I stayed behind with my boyfriend, Dean. All of that, however, led us to where we are now. I’ve just gotten back from a case a few days ago that I took on my own without telling the guys. It’s not the first time either. Every now and then I get uncomfortable being so close to them and I have to dip out for some time to myself.

Mine and Dean’s relationship hasn’t been smooth sailing but it’s been manageable. The first few times I left without saying anything aside from a note that I’d be back soon and was on a case, he shook it off pretty quick but the more cases I took by myself, the longer it would take for him to shake it. I’ve realized that once again, my fear of letting anyone get too close has caused me to push him too far away. He’s hasn’t said a word to me since I got back from my case three days ago. I make my way to his room and knock softly on the door. He opens the door but quickly turns his back to me and sits down on the bed. “Dean, I-” I try to explain but he interupts me.

“If you want to leave just leave. You can’t keep coming and going like this,” he doesn’t even look at me but I can hear it in his voice that he’s hurt.

“That’s not it. I-” I begin trying to explain again.

“Then what is it? Do you have another boyfriend that you have to tend to or something?” he asks heatedly.

“Damn it, will you let me talk?” I respond in frustration, “I don’t have another boyfriend. I just get claustrophobic sometimes. It’s hard for me to withstand being as close with someone as I am with you for very long because my gut always tries to tell me that it’s about to blow up in my face.”

“So, you’re saying I smother you,” he scoffs, “I get it I guess I just love you too much. That’s fine I’ll just stop that then.” There’s a strong tone of sarcasm and a tinge of spite in his words.

“What the hell did you expect, Dean? You should’ve known from the jump that I have issues. Hell, the first time we ever saw each other, you were driving the freaking getaway car. Does anyone in our line of work ever actually manage to have healthy relationships and decent mental health?” I ramble, “I can’t help that nothing in my life has ever been good and permanent. I’m just conditioned to expect the worst.”

“You don’t seem to be trying to change that conditioning. Am I not worth it?” he spouts back.

I huff as I take a seat on the other side of the bed with my back to him, “Dean, I’m trying. I really am. Most of the time when I’m away I’m thinking of ways to fix this. I just never can come up with anything solid or that works because I just repeat the freaking cycle a few weeks later.” By now, I’m struggling to hold back tears. I really do want to try to make this work. I love him too much to just give up but it’s proving hard to do it alone. I know I’m hurting him and that makes me hurt worse because I can’t seem to do anything about it. “I can’t do it alone, Dean. If you still want me to stay then I need your help,” I whisper.

He sighs and I feel the bed shift as he gets up and makes his way over to kneel in front of me, “I’m sorry. I should’ve said something sooner and been more cooperative about it. I just couldn’t help but think the worst.” I refuse to look him in eye and stare at my hands as he wraps them in his own, “Let’s start by communicating, okay? From now on when you need a breather just let me know so I can give you some space.” I nod and he lets go of one of my hands to raise my chin so that I am looking at him. “I love you. I’m right here and I’ll do whatever you need me to do to help you fix this.” I nod so he stands and pulls me up with him to wrap me in a hug. Maybe I can do it this time. I really want to get to where I don’t have to take breathers so much but that’s going to take some time. I’m just happy to have his help now.

Masterlist

Taglist: @emiijemii @akshi8278 @deandaydreaming @castiels-majestic-wings @desimarie12

#dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester oneshots #supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural imagines #supernatural oneshot #supernatural oneshots #spn #spn imagine #spn imagines #spn oneshot #spn oneshots

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sacklerscumrag · 4 years ago

Text

More of You Series: Part I

Charlie Barber X Female Reader

[ao3]

Notes: So I’m not exactly sure how many parts this will be (it will be a long story). I have a ton of it already written, it’s just a matter of organizing and editing at this point haha but I’m feeling the angst so here you go. This first part wont be too bad but I must warn you SHITS ABOUT TO GET REAL SAD 😂

WARNINGS: mentions of divorce, some crying, just a sad Charlie lol

Word Count: 1.6K

"Okay, everyone, let's take fifteen." A deep voice emanates from inside the theater as you push the door open. Everyone inside is shuffling, making their way off the stage as you walk in.

"There you are! Thank you" Charlie meets you halfway down the aisle to grab the coffee from you, giving you a kiss on the cheek. "It's been such a long morning, and it's not even 10:00 am."

"How's it going so far?" you took a sip of your coffee and looked around the theater.

"Not so bad, there's potential, but I still think it could use some work" he ran his hands through his hair before scooting into one of the rows, gesturing you to sit with him.

"You're here all day today?"

"Seems like it" the circles under his eyes seemed to have darkened since the last time you saw him. Dealing with his separation from Nicole in recent months must have been taking its toll. Bringing him coffee in the mornings before work was the only way to spend any real time with him. You and Charlie had been close your entire lives, that is until he married Nicole.

Although he made it very clear to her that you were a permanent part of his life, she always seemed to have a problem, creating unwanted distance between you and Charlie. All in all, your relationship with her was rocky, to say the least, but it didn't matter. You would do anything for Charlie, and that included putting up with her.

"How's everything with Nicole?" You didn't want to bring it up first, but you knew he never would.

"Not getting any better if that's what you're wondering" he took a sip of his coffee, leaning back into the chair, taking a deep breath. "I just hope everything goes smoothly, you know? For Henry's sake." Per their agreement, Nicole was moving to California, and they would alternate time and holidays with Henry. This. All of it was killing Charlie inside. Having to be so far from Henry for so long, but he was willing to do anything he could to make it work. You turned to him, placed your hand on his, and gave it a gentle squeeze. Charlie's eyes met yours with a smile, squeezing your hand back.

"You're doing the best you can. Everything will be fine." You reassured him. "I'm here if you anything, you know that"

"I know." He pulled his hand away, looking down at his watch, "don't you have to go to work?"

"Shit. I'm late. Talk soon?" He nodded as you leaned down to give him a kiss on the cheek goodbye and ran out the door.

3 months later (Around Thanksgiving)

Knock, you were startled by the sudden noise, making you jolt in your sleep. You reached over for your phone to see it was 2:30 am, wondering who it could be pounding your door at this hour. You got up and put on your sleeping shorts to answer the door to see Charlie standing there, his face flushed, eyes twitching while chewing on the inside of his cheek like he did so often when he was upset.

"Hey." His voice cracked, barely keeping it together. You stepped to the side as he made his way into your apartment. He went straight to sit on the couch, his elbows on his knees, hands rubbing his face incessantly.

You made your way to the kitchen and poured some tea you had made earlier for the both of you. Nicole was in town "visiting," and you could tell he had just come from one of their fights. This was a regular occurrence for Charlie before the divorce was finalized. Showing up at your doorstep two to three nights a week after an explosive fight with her. But every time she came to visit, Charlie found himself repeating this cycle. At times, you wondered how much more of this either of you could take.

You walk back to the couch with both mugs in your hands, setting them down on the coffee table in front of you and sat down next to him. Charlie ran his fingers through his hair, intertwining them on the back of his neck, lowering his head. The silence was deafening, filling the space between you. You placed your hand on his shoulder in hopes of breaking him from his trance.

"Charlie?" you said to him as he lifted his head to look at you and choked back a sob, loud enough for you to hear. You immediately reached out for him, cradling his head into your chest. Charlie wrapped his arms around your waist while you ran your fingers through his hair, trying your best to soothe him in any way you could. Sobs wracked his chest; you could feel his tears seeping into your sweatshirt. A few moments later, his breathing slowed down, hands still wrapped tightly around you, almost making sure you weren't a product of his imagination. He loosened his grip when he felt you place a kiss on the crown of his head, pulling away from you, slowly.

His face is stained with tears as he tries to wipe them away. Eyes swollen, red as he let out a deep breath trying to gather himself before looking back at you. Moments before, his thoughts were consumed with anger and frustration, now overcome with relief as he gazed upon you. Charlie didn't know if it was the fact that you always stood by him, or maybe it's the way you looked at him, but at that moment, something came over him. Suddenly, his lips were on yours. His hand came up to cup your face before you pulled away.

"Charlie… I'm sorry, I just don't think now is the right time for this" he took a breath, standing up from the couch, walking towards the window with one hand over his mouth, and the other on his hip.

"I'm sorry I should've never done that; I don't know what came over me." He said, never turning to look at you. You got up and walked over to him, placing your hand on his arm.

"Charlie, please look at me" he bit his bottom lip before turning around, his lip quivering as he released it "it's okay" you said to him, giving him a smile, reassuring him the best way you could. He forced a smirk before looking back down where your hands were joined.

"She's staying at my place…to spend the holidays with Henry together, but I um…I can't go home tonight." He said, clearing his throat.

"I know. You can stay here" Charlie released your hand and walked over to take his place couch.

"No. Come. You'll sleep with me" you disappeared into the other room, grabbing a towel and a change of clothes, before returning and handing it to Charlie "you can shower if you want" he quietly nodded and made his way into the bathroom in your bedroom.

Sometime later, Charlie walked into the bedroom after a long, much-needed shower, coming to a halt at the doorway. There you were. Laying on your side, wearing a large t-shirt, hair splayed out on the pillow, your face softened from your tranquil state. An angel, he thought as he clutched the towel to his chest and smiled to himself. He set his things down neatly on the nightstand opposite from you before making his way into bed. Trying to make as little movement as possible, not wanting to disturb how divine you looked right now.

You felt the mattress dip beside you, opening your eyes slightly to see Charlie, turned on his side, dark locks messily laying on his forehead and cheek, looking back at you.

"Hey. You should've woken me up." Your voice groggy from your slumber.

"I like watching you sleep. You look…peaceful." He whispered. You scooted closer to him before bringing your face close to his, noses barely touching. Charlie quickly leaned in, closing the distance between you with a kiss, raising his hand to cup the side of your face. Your heart pounded when you felt Charlie's hand slide down to your waist to pull you closer. He let out a low moan when he felt your hand tangled in his hair and tug lightly, deepening the kiss. Letting the taste of him wash over all of the doubts and guilt in your mind. His soft kisses and gentle touches left you quivering under his touch when you suddenly felt him pull away. His nose still grazing yours, lips swollen from your kisses.

"You sure about this?" you whispered, eyes fluttering open.

"Only if you are"

You nodded before pulling him back in and claiming his lips once again for a quick kiss before Charlie pulled you into his chest, draping his arms around you, burying his nose into your hair.

At that moment, nothing else mattered. It was as if time had stopped, and everything you wanted was lying right next to you. You nestled into Charlie's chest, legs tangling with each other as you both fell into a tranquil sleep in each other's embrace.

Early the next morning, you noticed the lack of warmth surrounding you. Opening your eyes, you awoke to an empty bed with a small note on the pillow. Had to run. Thank you for everything. -Charlie. You sighed; a hint of disappointment in the back of your mind. It wasn’t long before memories of the previous night rushed over you. The way his soft, plump lips moved against yours in a way that made your toes curl, the feel of his warm breath on your cheeks, the taste of wine lingering on his tongue made you shudder at the thought. You quickly snapped yourself out of it, getting out of bed when your phone lit up. It was from Nicole.

#charlie barber #charlie barber x reader #proud of myself for not posting at 2 am lol

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pressedinthepages · 4 years ago

Text

Curiosity

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Eskel & Ciri (Platonic/Familial)

Word Count: 1412

Rating: T

Masterlist

a/n: Reader Request [from @sometimesiwrite Ciri and Uncle Eskel??? OMG DID THEY LEAVE ESKEL IS CHARGE OF “THE TALK???”] i am LIVING for the awkwardness that is Eskel.

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: discussion of consent, as well as the use of r*pe for definition purposes, language

Eskel really wishes he had gone hunting.

“Uncle Eskel?” Ciri’s voice chimes across the table, empty save for the aforementioned Witcher. Geralt and Lambert left this morning to rid the surrounding area of a family of draconids that have settled in, and Vesemir has gone to the lake to catch some supper for everyone. “Can I ask you about sex?”

Eskel’s spoon clatters to the table as he blinks at the girl-no, the young woman. Cirilla is growing into a young woman, and it makes sense that she should ask someone about that part of life. However, Eskel is not sure that he’s the best person for that. “Shouldn’t you ask Geralt?”

Ciri scoffs, shoveling another generous portion of jerky into her mouth. “Well, I did. He got all pale and he kept just shaking his head, whispering “Fuck” as he fled the room. And before you can say it, I did ask Lambert too-”

“Well, there’s a mistake.”

“But he just doubled over laughing and told me to ask you. Yennefer won’t be back until winter, and I can’t ask Vesemir, that would be weird…”

“And this isn’t?” Eskel grumbles, trying to figure out where exactly in his life he fucked up so royally to lead to this moment of having to teach someone else’s damn kid about sex.

“Not really, you’re the sanest person here,” Ciri says nonchalantly. She is a summer child, having just turned fourteen around the solstice. Eskel finds himself thinking that, if they were here under different circumstances, she would be undergoing the first of the Trials soon.

He shakes that line of thought away, focusing back on Ciri. He sighs, resigned to a very long afternoon. “Can we go sit in the library?”

Ciri nods, finishing up her lunch at a relaxed pace. She still has some tendencies of being raised in a royal family, such as eating as slowly as she pleases, thank you very much. Eskel stands, depositing his empty bowl and spoon into the washbasin for later. He trudges towards the library as if he were headed to the gallows, his steps echoing through the empty halls.

The scent of old books and abandoned alchemical experiments greets Eskel as he shoulders open the great wooden door to the library. He sits in a comfy chair by the fireplace, casting Igni to help warm the room. Autumn is approaching, leaving some of the larger areas in the decrepit castle a bit drafty. Eskel finds a copy of Half a Century of Poetry, or as Geralt calls it, A Load of Horse Shit. Eskel opens it up to a random page, reading through the tales of his brother as he waits for the Princess.

He doesn’t have to wait long, for she soon tips open the door in and peeks inside. When Ciri finds Eskel just as he said he would be she sags with palpable relief, stepping fully into the room and sitting in a seat directly across from him.

“Right,” she says, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I have a few questions.”

Eskel hums, closing the book and setting it on the ground next to him. Should’ve grabbed the copy of the Beastiary that’s hollowed out with a flask of wine…

“So, I know about a woman’s cycles,” Eskel flushes, remembering that debacle of a few years prior. How they all missed that Ciri had hit that part of womanhood was beyond him, and he had vowed to do better by her. I guess this is where I do that, huh?

“But I just want to understand the mechanics of it all, I just don’t see what the big deal of it is.” Eskel watches as Ciri messes with a stray thread on the hem of her shirt, apparently a habit picked up from himself. He smiles to himself, pondering how to start what will be the beginning of a bit of an uncomfortable conversation.

“Well,” Eskel clears his throat, attempting to soften his voice. It doesn’t work, it never does. “When a man and a woman...enjoy each other’s company…well, it doesn’t have to be that way, it can be two men, or two women too, or just people together, oh Melitele…” He runs his hand down the scarred side of his face, attempting to get his thoughts together. Ciri only looks at him, waiting for him to go on.

“You know how Lambert goes all rigid whenever something touches him by accident?” Ciri’s brows scrunch up in confusion with the sudden change of direction, but she nods along anyways. “Well, that’s because he’s very sensitive to touch. Ever since he went through the Trials, and probably even before that. People touched Lambert without his permission, and they hurt him. I’m sure you’ve heard how his father treated him?”

“Of course, I still can’t understand how a parent could do such cruel things to their own child, or any child for that matter.”

Eskel shakes his head, knowing just how far some people’s ruthlessness can go. “Well, sometimes that happens to adults too, with sex. If someone isn’t interested in someone else, or they do something that they don’t like, or anything to make them uncomfortable, it’s not okay. It’s rape.”

Ciri’s eyes widen at the word, having heard it before in discussions eavesdropped upon in court. She never understood the connotation, but she knew the pain that it could cause for those affected. “So, if someone wants to have sex with me, and I say no, but they do it anyway, that’s rape?”

Eskel nods before adding, “Even if you don’t exactly say “no,” but definitely not “yes,” it’s still rape. And you can change your mind, too. You can be right in the middle of something with a person and decide that you don’t want that anymore. Just say the word, and they should leave you alone. And if they don’t, you fight like hell. No one should take that choice away from you, ever.”

Ciri sits quietly for a few moments, clearly thinking about what was said. “Okay, and what about when they do want to have sex, what then?”

Eskel’s mouth gapes like a fish out of water, unsure of exactly where to start. He mentally curses every single gods-forsaken person that is supposed to be in the keep before launching into a very awkward discussion about different kinds of sex, how it can fit into relationships, always reiterating on the importance of consent. Ciri interjects with questions and further discussion from time to time, and if Eskel didn’t know any better, he would think that she was just trying to prolong his torture. But he does know better, that Ciri is really just trying to understand this part of life.

“Hey Uncle Eskel,” Ciri says, standing with a confidence gained from years at court and a sureity gained from her training in Kaer Morhen, “thanks for this. I appreciate it.”

Eskel only grunts as she takes her leave, peering out the window to watch the sun begin to dip below the horizon. He heaves himself out of the chair and walks to the courtyard, finding the three missing Witchers all arriving through the gates. Vesemir tosses him a bag of fish, which Eskel promptly sets to the side. He puts his hands on his hips in his best impression of the older Witcher as he watches Geralt dismount Roach.

“You have a nice day?” Geralt asks, raising an eyebrow at Eskel’s stance.

“Fucking marvelous, thanks.” Eskel’s voice is a low growl, his lips pursed in annoyance. “Apparently, Ciri’s father has been ignoring her questions about sex, and left her to ask me instead.”

Geralt’s eyes widen comically, and Eskel can’t help the way his lips turn up at the corners. “And what did you tell her?”

“The truth, you moron. Nothing salacious, but she needs to learn about this stuff Geralt. Ignoring it won’t make it go away.”

Geralt sighs, running his hand through his silver hair. “You’re right. She already so grown up. I don’t want her to grow up…”

Eskel moves to stand before Geralt, pulling his brother into an embrace. He pointedly ignores Lambert’s faux gagging before patting Geralt on the back a few times as he steps back. “You owe me so much alcohol.”

Geralt chuckles, nodding as they all walk off towards the keep, ready to tuck into a night of rest and relaxation, or at least as much as a bunch of Witchers can get.

#eskel & ciri #platonic #uncle eskel

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dontshootmespence · 4 years ago

Text

Through It All

Part 15

Summary: Now married, Spencer & Y/N navigate the D/s lifestyle. How will their relationship change?

Words: 1,279

Warnings: Switching, blowjobs, riding, sex, blindfolds, Domme!Reader, Sub!Spence.

A/N: My next entry for @cm-kinkbingo run by my beautiful girlfriend @heycasbutt. This fulfills my switch square.

Mirrors are supposed to show your reflection, but apparently not. Staring back at you is a woman with sunken eyes who looks like she’s been punched. This woman’s hair is practically standing on end. Her lips are cracked. She’s a hot fucking mess. But as Spencer instructed, you look in the mirror and admire how shiny your hair is. It’s all over the place, but it’s shiny. Win.

Charlotte has an ear infection, so she’s been crying constantly. Not as bad as the first time she got sick when she was younger, but pretty bad. After work is more work. Getting home means starting dinner (if you’re home before Spencer), doing laundry, washing dishes, vacuuming, cleaning up Charlotte’s messes, changing her diapers. It’s an absolute never-ending cycle. There’s no control. And then it dawns on you.

Walking out of the bathroom, you step back into the kitchen where Spencer is attempting to play peek-a-boo with Charlotte. “Hey, Spence?”

“Yea? Everything okay?”

“Uh, yea, I’m just feeling really frazzled and out of control so I was wondering if we might try that switching thing tonight?” You give him a big cheesy grin and clutch your hands together. “Please?”

Spencer smiles, his hands still hiding his face in an attempt to get a reaction from the little one. “Sure. I’m looking forward to it. You have any ideas?”

“Mayyyybe.”

There’s a gleam in his eyes that you recognize as the kind of look you get when Spencer teases you about the night’s plans. It makes you feel good.

Somehow, your overwrought nerves manage to make it through dinner and getting Charlotte to sleep. She almost sleeps through the night yet. Another month or so and she’ll be sleeping through. “Wanna go to bed?” Spencer asks, grin wide and wild.

Nodding, you get up on your tiptoes and kiss him. “Yea, I’ll be right there. Why don’t you go in first, get totally naked for me and I’ll be right there?”

“Yes ma’am.”

As he walks away, you have to resist the temptation to just chase right after him and jump his bones, instead deciding to sit by Charlotte’s crib for a few more minutes, just watching how peaceful she looks. Once enough time has passed, you walk confidently into your bedroom to see Spencer lounging against some propped up pillows in all his naked glory. When Spencer goes to talk, you shush him. “Did I ask for you to speak?”

“No,” he says, zipping his lips with his fingers. He looks proud. And aroused.

Slipping off your tank top to reveal your new lacy, light pink bra, you watch Spencer’s eyes widen. Your boobs are still pretty big, because you’re still breastfeeding, but you’d indulged in one new bra to accommodate your larger girls. Spencer hasn’t seen before, and by the subtle twitch of his cock, you can tell he enjoys the view.

You turn around and bend over, wiggling your ass just so as you search for what you need. A metal clink and cool steel sent a shiver up your spine. Turning around, you smile at Spencer and swing the cuffs around your finger. These are the real deal because Spencer purposely forgot to give them back once he retired from the BAU. “Hands above your head.”

Spencer complies without a word, a smirk crossing his lips as you dip onto the mattress and fasten the cuffs around his wrists. “Make sure you keep your hands gripping the headboard. If you let go more than once, I’ll edge you three times before I let you come.”

He bites his lip, undoubtedly tempted to disobey just for the sake of getting your lips around his cock. It’s what you normally do in his position. Hopefully he’ll be a good boy. You grab a silk scarf out of your drawer and hold it out to him, silently asking if he’s okay with being blindfolded.

When he nods, you crawl back onto the bed and straddle him, rubbing back and forth against him as you tie the scarf around the back of his head. “Comfortable?”

“Yea, I’m good. I mean, I want you to ride me more than I can possibly express, but I’m comfortable.”

Snickering to yourself, you slip off the bed and remove your pants, panties and bra, pinching at your nipples and bringing them to taut peaks before getting back on the bed to straddle his lower legs. You bend forward and grip his cock in one hand, running your tongue up the underside. Using your saliva, you run your hand up and down, twirling your hand around the head of his cock before starting the process over again.

With each twist, you graze that area just under the head that drives him crazy, and soon enough, he’s bucking into your hand. “Can I come?” He asks.

“I don’t think so,” you reply, smiling wide.

Spencer huffs and tries to control himself as you take all of him into your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat. You gag and pull up, spit pooling around the base of his shaft, which you use to cup his balls. “Do you wanna come down my throat, baby?”

“Yes.”

“Ask me?”

“Can I come down your throat?”

“Thank you for asking. Yes, you may,” you laugh. You return to your earlier motions, taking all of him with each pass of your mouth, your hands following in your wake. Sucking cock makes you feel powerful, even if you’re on the ‘bottom.’ Watching him as he comes undone, knowing it’s you that’s making it happen? One of the best feelings in the world.

Every time he hits the back of your throat, you hear him moan, and it only makes you want to move faster. As his muscles tighten, you lightly squeeze his balls and sheath yourself on him, mumbling your approval around him when he comes; the tang of him is heady and rich and you swallow it all down appreciatively. “Good job, baby. Do you want me to ride that cock now?”

“Yes. Please, yes.”

“Would you like the blindfold off?”

He nods, and you push the scarf down around his neck before cupping your own breasts, heavy and full. Knees astride, you tilt his head down so he’s looking at where you’re touching him. “Watch while I sink onto you.”

Spencer growls and it makes you smile. He’s having a hard time controlling himself. Good. Now he knows exactly where you’re coming from when he’s telling you not to come.

Moaning, you toss your head back and pinch one of your nipples, which makes you tighten around him. “God, you feel so good, Spence.”

You bend down, body flush against his as you move your hips up and down, tightening your walls around him with each pass. Glancing up, you see his hands move away from the headboard, so you smack them. “Keep them up there or you don’t get to come again,” you command.

Spencer grabs the headboard again and cranes his head up, nipping at your neck as you continue to thrust down onto him. “Come on my cock,” he says, his voice husky and tight.

“Ask nicely.”

“Please, come on my cock, Y/N. Fuck me.”

Hearing him beg is something you could get used to - on occasion. Warmth floods your entire body at his words and you start to tremble around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you breathe. “Gonne come.”

As you clench around him, he growls, gripping the headboard so hard his knuckles go white. “Shit, Y/N. I- I could do that on occasion...I mean...if you want.”

“Oh believe me, I want.”

@heycasbutt @ultrarebelheart @katherineisagubler @proud-slytherin-ghost @randomwriter23 @fandom-queen67 @sixx-sic-sixx @xqueenofthecraziesx @aofay02 @groovyreid @criesinreid @jdougl-love @xreider @cringeemospntrashassbutt @prettyboyeffect @prettyboyreid @themanip @spencerreidsthings @augustgraceful @whollytaciturn @prisonreid @factualfic @jasmine-negron @snitchthewitch @ellabobella051419 @crazyforsstuff @kaatelyyynn @jane-dough @dreatine @bitter-post-millennial @adlerorzel-blog @hallieedrew @psychedelephantt @krisymccall996 @4ueijos @mclaujac @ray-likes-starwars @nurseemilyblog @slightlyvicked @she4567 @guesswhosback129 @princessdolan @happycreatorfangirl @fallwhisper @nyemadowell @sammy-jo1977 @sin-bin-and-tragedies @imsuperawkward @ahhahahaheehee @crispygiantsaladgarden @reputay-swift @pizzarollsfordayz @andiebeaword @timey-wimey-lovi @garbagecanfics @friedparadisetale @dereksbetaa @idontevenknow2 @holyfishloverfarm @nohemi2500 @typeshitbih @sadgirlhan @kmc217 @bigbuttsowhatuniverse @charmedfandomgal @im--blushing @dangerouspersonllamabagel @fichoe21 @yes-sir-hotchner @thefandomallrounder @mrsenos08 @walkerchick007 @letsdisneythings @winchesterqueenie @specialagentleigh @spn-wheresthepie @haileymew @bitchyoulied @geniusgub @urdicksmol @6lack6erry @slutlanna976 @downondilaudid @baileysb1tch @la-vie-en-amour1 @letsdoit-tomorrow @eideticprettyboydrreid @lazynoodledragon @shybaby231 @aimzonicles97 @grace-superpowers @softestlavender @ssa-dr-ladylock @drprettyboy @patricks-fabulous-face @tearosaria @shxdowofdarkness @marvels-gurl

#through it all #the most natural thing in the world #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dontshootmespence

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puckngrind · 4 years ago

Text

What’s In a Name: Finale- J. Toews

Chapter 16.

Where we left off: Jon and Bekah got married in Sedona and are off to their honeymoon after the Blackhawks convention.

Warnings: smut, language

Word Count: 4,390

Series Masterlist ) Puck ‘n Grind’s masterlist

Final.

When Jon finally let it slip they were honeymooning in Iceland after the convention, Bekah was unsure of her husband’s thought process. She expected some beach vacation with their own bungalow but what she got was way more their style. They stayed up to take in the midnight sun, snorkeled in a fault line, skinny dipped in a natural hot spring and made out like no one was watching under a waterfall. They were so hot for each other the couple even missed a guided tour simply because they lost track of time and didn’t get out of bed. Married life was good even with the season starting. Right before training camp Jon drops a package on the counter and retreats to the fridge.

“Tae, whatcha order?” Bekah sipped one her later afternoon coffee.

“Rings.” Jon’s voice echoed from inside the fridge.

“Huh?”

“Take a look Beks.” Jon closes the door and motions towards the package. Inside were maybe a dozen or more silicone bands. “For practice and games, working out... you know when I have the potential of ripping off my finger with the real one.”

“Jon, you didn’t have to... I mean, it’s fine if you go ringless at work.” Bekah sips her coffee and smiles. “As long as you only come home to me.” Jon rounded the counter, pulls out one of the silicone bands, removes his wedding ring and places it on his left ring finger.

“It’s only been you since 2015, Beks, and it will only be you until the day I die.” His lips press firmly onto hers. “I want to have the constant reminder that I have the best wife ever to come home to.” His lips graze hers again.

“Not sure I deserve that reward yet, maybe in a year?” Bekah giggles into Jon’s skin.

Brynn came with Derek when the Blue Jackets played in Chicago. The two hadn’t seen each other since they left Arizona in July. “I still cannot believe you two are married, so damn in love it’s sick, and have these breathtaking wedding pictures already hanging up. I think it took a month to even get our proofs back let alone a framed picture and you have this on a giant canvas.” Brynn’s finger points to Bekah’s favorite picture. Jon’s arms wrapped her, lips pressed to her cheek as her vail flies in the wind. The fact that she doubted being about to get to the spot where they took the picture is funny looking back. She was thankful Jon pushed for it.

It was Christmas before they knew it. The families decided to give the newlyweds the actual holiday to themselves again and came together the weekend before. Bekah told Jon there better not be any surprise gifts in, on, or under the tree. On Christmas Eve she came down the steps to see a blanket laid out in front of the tree with the fire going.

“What’s this Tae?” She kisses her husband who looked pleased with himself.

“I thought we should have our own Christmas tradition that we could do when we have kids.” He dips down and scoops up the wine glasses. “Maybe without the wine.” Bekah sips her glass and takes in the small details Jon put into this picnic.

“Sounds perfect!” They sat down and talked all about the holidays, break, and how the season was going.

“I know you are going home for New Years but very much want my wife with me in Calgary to ring in 2020.” Jon stands to move the plates and wine glasses.

“J, I don’t see why I couldn’t just cut my home trip short?” Bekah leans on her hands watching Jon’s reaction.

“Really? I know you miss it.” He kneels next to her.

“Not as much as I did. Plus, I want to ring in 2020 with you just didn’t want to mess up team bonding.” Jon laughs a little and moves his body on top of hers.

“I think the guys will understand why.” Jon presses his lips to hers and Bekah moans out.

“Wanna go upstairs?” She whispers when their lips break for air.

“Fuck no.” Jon lifts up and pulls off both of their clothes wasting no time making sure Bekah was ready before pressing into her. His movements were slow and intentional. Pulling Bekah’s legs high up so she had to move her hands from pulling at his back to holding her legs up. Jon humming in pure love of the moment. Taking in their highs together Jon still holding tight into his wife.

“So is this also a Christmas tradition there, Tae?” Bekah’s breaths were short as she laughed.

“I think so. Maybe before Santa arrives.” He snickers as he lifts up and grabs another blanket to wrap around them.

“Is Santa coming to our house this year? Dropping off any surprises?” Bekah combs her fingers through Jon’s hair as he lays on her chest.

“Nope. Well, house hunting...” Jon felt Bekah’s reaction to his statement. “We can stay here if you want. It’s up to you.”

They didn’t. Soon after Jon and Bekah returned from Columbus and Calgary the couple found the perfect house close to the city. Moving during the season seemed to be a daunting task but Bekah managed to get the essentials unpacked and hired painters and such to make their home feel like them. All-Star weekend the couple found themselves at home in Winnipeg.

“Beks?” Jon called out after coming in from a run. Bekah told Jon she was going to make cookies while he was gone. “Babe?” He wandered the house and sees her still with her shoes on in bed asleep. He sits down next to her and brushes the hair out of her face. “You okay?” His eyebrows knit together knowing his wife was not a nap type of person however many times he begged her to nap pre-game with him.

“Yeah, just got super tired that’s all.” Bekah’s voice was groggy.

“Yeah, you left the dough out on the counter.” Jon slips back behind her. “Do you think you are coming down with something?” He presses his lips to the back of her head.

“I don’t think so. Maybe... oh... well. Um. Shit. What day is it?” Bekah lifts up suddenly.

“The 23rd. Why Bekah?” Jon sits up behind her.

“I’m two weeks late.” Bekah’s hand covers her mouth realizing what that could mean.

“You mean like late late? As in...” Jon’s arms wrap around Bekah.

“Like maybe you would go get a test... or three.” She looks back at him and she shuffles to his feet and heads to the store. The smell of cookies hit his nose when he walked back in the door. Bekah icing the batch that had cooled.

“So, I know we said we would let nature take its course but that was in November.” Bekah nods, licks the icing off her finger and grabs the bag.

The two waited for the longest two minutes of their lives sitting on the bathroom floor. Bekah’s head rested on Jon’s shoulder. Jon’s hand picked up the stick from the counter. “Ready...” he whispers and Bekah’s shoulders shrug. “Pregnant. Beks!” Jon’s voice picked up and he jumped to his feet placing the test on the counter and scooping his wife into his arms kissing her skin as he walks.

“Tae, what are you doing?” Bekah questions.

“Celebrating knocking my sexy wife up in the first try!” Jon drops Bekah onto the bed and crowds her. Ridding himself of his shirt and pulling on hers.

“It could be a false positive.” Bekah’s hands land on Jon’s chest.

“It’s not.” Jon retorts. “For as long I’ve known you, your cycle has been the most predictable thing about you.” Jon manages to pull Bekah’s shirt off and kisses down to her stomach. “Salut bébé, c'est ton papa.” He whispers into her skin the looks up to see Bekah’s face. “Sorry, maybe I should...” Jon goes to move thinking he changed the mood and Bekah’s hands catch his shoulders.

“Tae, that was a damn turn on. Please... continue.” Jon winks up at her and presses his tongue to her folds lapping up how incredibly wet she was. Bekah’s orgasm ripping through her body like a ball of fire. Her body jolting up away from his mouth which was still working it’s magic.

“Holy shit. J, I need more.” Bekah panted out and Jon’s mouth met her chest as he laid her back down pressing his length deep inside eliciting moans as he rocked.

“Oh. Beks. Beks. I...” Jon huffs as Bekah pulls her body up into his and feels him explode deep inside of her sending shockwaves through out her body. “I love you.” Jon whispers while crashing into her body.

“Same but you are crushing my pelvis.” Bekah wiggles and Jon jumps off her quickly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You are carrying our child.” His hand grazes her stomach.

“Potentially. I need to schedule an appointment for when we are back.” She reaches for her phone and Jon’s hand catches her arm.

“Does your brain ever shut off My Love?” Jon kisses her. “No is the answer. And I want to go. Can you schedule around me?”

Soon after their return home, Jon and Bekah found themselves in her OBGYN’s office listening to their child’s heartbeat. A tear streaming down Jon’s face as Bekah held his hand tight. On the drive home, Bekah broke the comfortable silence. “Can we wait to tell people including family until the second trimester?” Jon’s thumb rubs the back of her hand as he drives.

“Whenever you want Beks.” Jon’s delight evident in his tone.

“I want to tell Rin first but don’t exactly know how.” Bekah inhales quickly as Jon sighs. Brynn and Derek would be the perfect parents but after too many miscarriages to count and an undetermined infertility diagnosis they just stopped trying. Getting pregnant so quickly was going to crush her best friend and she knew it. She watched Brynn at coworker’s baby showers. She hid the pain well but Bekah saw it.

She wanted to tell her best friend in person. What she didn’t expect was the pause and quarantine. Jon came home early March talking about the NHLPA and on the phone not realizing Bekah was laying in the middle of the floor. He stands over her and smiles. “My beautiful wife okay down there?”

“Fat wife that is. And no. They said you could have morning sickness and mine was mid-afternoon sickness which is for the birds THEN they said you feel better in your second trimester and welp... my body feels like I ran a damn marathon and I just moved the rug three feet over. How was your discussion with those people?” Bekah waves her hand around and Jon laughs.

“They want to start zoom calls so I have to think where I could do it here. Plus I think we can go home to Manitoba for a bit if you feel already.”

“Yeah, do it in the kitchen so you don’t have the blow job angle your team Canada buddy did yesterday. I need to call Rin. My body isn’t hiding this baby much longer.” Jon lays down next to her and kisses her cheek.

“Blow job angles. Funny. I don’t need anyone but you thinking of that.” He rolls her body on top of his and she sits up with his hands on her hips. “And you, Mrs. Toews and more beautiful now than the day we met.” Jon’s thumbs rub the small bump appearing on her lower abdomen.

Bekah buzzed around the house while Jon sat on the zoom call. She dropped her phone when she heard him answer the question about what he’s been up to since the last game. After the call ended she stands next to him. “When is that call being published?” Bekah asks with an annoyance in her voice.

“They said in a few days, why Beks?” Jon pulls her into his lap.

“Because you just fucking told the world I’m pregnant and I haven’t even told our families.” Jon’s eyes blow wide.

“Oh fuck! I... I... I didn’t even think about it.” His hand covers his face.

“I need to go FaceTime Rin.” Bekah kissed her regretful husband and retreated to their bedroom.

“How’s my bestie doing in quarantine?” Brynn didn’t even say hi. “What’s that face for?” Bekah sighed.

“I wanted to do this in person so I could hold your hand but damn Covid and shit.” Bekah starts.

“You are pregnant aren’t you?” Brynn pulls a smile across her face.

“How did ya?” Bekah’s eyebrow shoots up. “I am. Due mid-September.”

“I knew you looked different in December but couldn’t place it. You were barely pregnant weren’t you?” Brynn feels the tears coming.

“Yeah. Rin. I... I... I’m sorry.” Bekah whispers.

“Bekah, you don’t have to be sorry. I’m so happy for you and cannot wait to be Auntie Rin!” Brynn wipes her eyes.

“Oh Rin.” Bekah sniffles. “I didn’t know how you would take this.” The friends talked a little more before Bekah hung up and called Kelly who squealed while jumping then realized Bekah’s odd questions in February were pregnancy related. When she returned to Jon he was laying on the couch she asked him to move. “Your parents or mine first?”

“Together?” Jon laughed and they both FaceTimed their mom’s who were overjoyed at the news about being grandparents. Marie had tons of questions regarding Bekah and the baby’s safety while the Toews were busy talking to Jon about their trip home and if Bekah would be safe on the lake’s ice.

With permission from her doctor, the couple returned to Canada and Jon enjoyed rare times with his family but soon realized the couple needed to return to the states. Jon was constantly on the phone with negotiations about return to play throughout the summer. Laying in bed one night with his head on her growing belly, Bekah could feel he was holding something back.

“Tae, talk. What’s up? She ran her hands through his growing hair that she secretly loved while everything was shut down.

“We’ve been talking about a return to play and that players could opt out. I think I should since with the baby coming. I would be gone for most of your last trimester.” Jon kisses and turns his attention. “Momma won’t let me open the envelope that says if you are a boy or girl. Maybe you could help me out, huh?” Bekah laughs hard that her belly moves.

“I told you with everything else the way it is having a little surprise wouldn’t hurt anyone. We bought the essentials and Kelly swears her kids were in the white onesies, or naked and wrapped up in a blanket for the first few weeks. Eating, pooping, and sleeping.” Jon looks up resting his chin on her stomach.

“Fine. I’ll wait. We already have enough Hawks stuff to last about a week. Plus the girls are ready to socially distance pounce on you once the baby does come. I do have an important question for you?”

“Yeah?”

“When is sex off the table?” He bites his lip and Bekah shakes her head.

“Depends on how I feel and where the baby is plus you don’t want to induce labor too early.”

“Soooo.... we can still?” Jon’s eyebrows dance.

“You want to sex this up? With my swollen ankles and clothes that no longer fit...”

“You don’t need clothes for what I want to do with you.” Jon lays next to his wife and pulls her face to his. “You are beautiful.” He deepens his kiss and she moans.

“I just look fat Tae.” Bekah recoils. “Plus, I need a shower.” She moves and Jon follows.

“I’ll join you.” He pulls her body into his while walking to their shower.

“You seriously want to have sex with me?” She looks at her naked body in the mirror and over to Jon noticing he was already hard.

“Not much has changed from last week when I wore your thighs at earmuffs.” Jon turned on the shower and lead her under the water. He could physically see Bekah’s shoulders relax under the warm water. Pulling her breasts into his hands he massaged gently. “Tell me if it’s too much okay Beks” He kissed the back of her neck and his fingers found her entrance. Using the edge of the shower, Bekah pulled her leg up for easier access to her clit as Jon kissed her skin.

“Tae.” She breathed out feeling an orgasm building then she felt the baby. “Jon!” Her hand went to her stomach. “Feel.” She brought his hand to her belly and Jon felt their child kick his hand.

“Oh wow! That is maybe the coolest feeling ever.” Jon kisses Bekah and she feels his hardened cock on her back. “Does that mean we stop, because...”

“No. I want you to fuck me.” Bekah turns around and Jon pulls her body up and slides her onto his length but cannot get situated enough. “take me to be bed.” She breathed out.

“Wet?” He questioned as he pulls out.

“Yes.” She wraps her arms around him and he carries them to the bed. Laying her down carefully and pressing into her as she moves her legs to feel all of him. With just a few thrusts, Bekah’s orgasm crashes over her and she feels the baby fluttering inside. “Can I finish you off orally?” She pants.

“You don’t have to Beks. I’m fine.” She wiggled from under him and he falls onto the mattress. “Beks... really... I’m... holy fuck. Don’t stop.” Jon soon changed his mind when Bekah’s lips wrapped tight around him and he hit the back of her throat. Sliding easily up and down his length Jon breathed out his approval of her actions and quickly spilled down her throat. Bekah pops her lips and wipes her mouth as she retreats. “I have no words.” Jon huffs out and stares up at Bekah who is now rubbing her stomach.

“Now can you get up so we can change the sheets and go to bed. This momma to be is tired.” Bekah stands and Jon strips the wet bed before cuddling his wife.

With somewhat of an argument, Brynn came to Chicago as Jon entered the bubble. Jon kissed Bekah’s belly as was leaving, “You cannot make an entrance into the world until Daddy returns or Momma enters the bubble. Either way, hang out. Make sure Momma listens to Auntie Rin and cheer on the Hawks.” Jon lifts up and wraps his arms around his wife. “Tu es toujours avec moi, mes amours.” Jon kisses her then pulls away to see the tears build in her eyes. “Always with me.” Jon gives instructions to Brynn to make sure Bekah keeps to the doctor’s orders and she calls him if anything happens.

“Go kick some Oiler ass Babe!” Bekah giggles trying to contain her emotions.

“Why does he have to look so damn sexy and I cannot touch him. You know these girls are falling all over him.” Bekah watched the coverage of Jon walking into the arena while Brynn painted her toe nails.

“And that man only has eyes for you.” Brynn smiled seeing the the way Bekah contorts her face.

“Yeah, some hot ass media girl is much sexier than the fat cow he left at home.” Bekah rubs her belly that has grown to the point that she cannot see her feet.

“Sorry friend, this whole negative self talk has to be your hormones because everyone in the world knows how much that man loves you. Did you see the picture from last game? You could see your wedding picture on his lock screen.”

“Did he look that good when he left? And the way he is playing is so fucking sexy.” Bekah looks at her phone. “Sorry, baby bird. Momma will be filtering herself when you arrive next month.” Brynn laughs.

“He will call. He always does.” And like magic Bekah’s phone rings. Since entering the bubble Jon calls to talk to the baby once a day, and will call Bekah before she goes to bed and before he goes on the ice.

“There is my girl!” Jon’s voice booms out of the speaker.

“Hey Tae! Could you talk to the league and see if they could I don’t know, move your game’s start time before my bedtime?” This makes both Jon and Brynn laugh. “I watch you when I get up to pee at around 11 but I hate missing the games live.

“Sure, I’ll just call Gary myself and request a game time change.” The three laugh.

“I love you, Tae. Good luck tonight and go kick some ass.” She kisses at the phone.

“I love you, two.” He blows her a kiss and hangs up to the sounds of heaving coming from Bekah’s feet.

“Yeah, if they lose and he comes home I foresee your labor starting.”

“Rin, that would be a month early!” Bekah squeaks out.

“I call it like I see it. And that man is gonna want his wife when he returns.” Bekah covered her eyes then starts googling sex in the third trimester.

Jon was home three and a half weeks after he left for Edmonton. Brynn stayed through the week and then drove back to Ohio with the promise she would be back when Baby Toews was born. Bekah’s due date came and she was still pregnant.

“This baby is NEVER leaving.” Bekah walked the stairs for the 10th time that day.

“You’ve made it comfortable. They want to stay FOREVER.” Jon laughs while he indulges in his dessert concoction he only eats off season.

“I think I’ve tried everything but sex.” Bekah leans on the counter and presses her hips back to relive the pressure. Jon drops the spoon from his mouth.

“Well, I can fucking help with that.” He pulls Bekah’s arm and practically pushes her up the stairs. Leaning against the headboard he pats his lap. “Climb aboard the let’s meet our baby Jonny train.” He laughs and Bekah scoffs.

“Your dad jokes are just gonna get worse, aren’t they?” She removes her shorts and climbs onto Jon’s lap.

“Yup! Now, can we get rid of this?” He pulls off her old t-shirt that is stretched around her belly. “And can I play with these? I don’t think they will belong to me soon.” Jon leans up to suck in her nipple while cupping her other breast. Bekah lets go of a gasp.

“Too much.” She whispered and lifts herself up. Jon’s hands hold her helps as she lowers herself onto his length. She presses her hips forward with a sound that was both pleasure and pain. “It’s not gonna take much to make me.” “Oh good. Me either.” Jon pulls her hips forward as her belly hits his abs. He thrusts slightly up and Bekah goes to move.

“I think if we stand.” She stands to her feet and Jon comes behind her.

“Ready?” He whispered and she nods. The grunts and moans fill the room quickly. The pain of her hips and full term baby sitting on her organs was forgotten as their highs crash over them. Jon leans over and kisses her shoulder blades while he pulls out. The two stand there for a moment evening out their breaths. “Beks, did you just pee?” Jon jumps back.

“No. My water just broke.” Bekah turns and gives Jon a look. “I need to shower I cannot give birth smelling like sex.” Jon laughs.

“You do that, I’ll go load the car. Unless you need me?” He had slight panic sound in his voice that was laced with excitement. Bekah giggled as she waddled to the shower and Jon grabbed the bags out of the nursery Brynn helped finish while he was gone.

The hospital was waiting for them as they arrived. Jon started a group text to their moms, Brynn, Kelly, and Alyssa. Jon sat in the rocking chair waiting for her next contraction. “You are a rockstar you know?” Bekah looks over at him while flipping the channel on the tv. “Nothing like the movies or tv. You haven’t called me a bastard or anything.” He smirks at her.

“While I don’t plan on it... I have pushed this giant headed Toews baby out my vagina yet.” Bekah sees Jon’s Adam’s apple bob. “And for the sake of our sex life, maybe you shouldn’t watch.” Jon stands and hold her hand preparing for the next contraction. She squeezes.

“Oh no, I want to see it all. Cut the cord. And I’ll still find you sexy as hell. You are bringing our child into the world. I will be impatiently waiting for the doctor to clear you.” Bekah rolls her eyes as the doctor comes in.

“It’s go time here!” The doctor looks up and Jon and and Bekah look each other with excitement. Bringing a child into the world during a pandemic was difficult but when the moment came and it was just the two of them there was a calmness washed over them. Bekah crushed Jon’s hand and forearm pushing but he didn’t mind. When the doctor said one more for the shoulders, Jon leaned over his wife’s leg and watched the most incredible thing in the entire world. In a spilt second his world completely changed.

“Tae, is it a boy or a girl?” Bekah whispers out of breath looking at Jon’s face and the tears welling up.

“It’s a boy, Beks.” He was handed the scissors and cut the cord. The nurse patted him dry and goes to hand him to Bekah. “Daddy holds him first.” She points and the nurse places Jon’s son in his arms.

“Time of birth, 1am, September 19th.” The nurse announces.

“It’s the 19th, Jon!” Bekah looks up at Jon as he passes the baby to his wif. She holds her son to her chest and kisses his head.

“Does baby boy Toews have a name?” The doctor asks as the couple looks at each other and in unison answer...

“Lincoln.”

The End.

#What's in a name fic #WIAN #WIAN finale #tazer me 19 #love a damn blackhawk 🤦🏻‍♀️#jonathan toews #Jonathan Toews fic #j toews #happens in the 2019-2020 season

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years ago

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Acutely (coda to 15x13 ‘Destiny’s Child’, Dean/Cas, 2.5k)

ao3 link

Jack said he's sorry, after getting his soul back.

Jack said he's sorry, and he's looking at Dean. They're all looking at Dean.

Jack said he's sorry, and Dean can't take it. It's too much. Like a frog thrown into a boiling pot he hops out, jumping out from the room towards safety. Doing his best not to succumb to the pain.

He can't hide forever, let the wounds fester. It's too much to deal with on his own, though. Can someone help him through it?

It’s no secret, where he hides. Where he ran away to after Jack broke down in an apology. Overwhelmed by the sorrow in the younger boy’s voice; his remorse for actions Dean hadn’t mentioned in so long. Dean barely made it before his knees buckled, collapsing on his bed instead of the floor. Face pressed against the pillow Dean counted his breaths while ignoring the heavy lump sitting in his throat.

He loses track after seventy-five, mumbling ‘one… two… three… four… five…’ over and over until he felt like his feet were farther from the edge than they had been. As he lifts his head, Dean takes stock of himself. Grimaces at how sweat dampens both his shirts, dark fabric clinging annoyingly underneath oppressive denim. And as the knot unwound in his stomach, Dean realizes he hadn’t eaten yet. Hunger gnaws at his awareness, begging for attention. Thinking about food, though, guides his paths towards the kitchen and – ultimately – Jack, again.

There’s not much of an appetite left after that.

Instead he blindly throws off his outer layer, then his undershirt. Bends, clawing at his laces and when they unravel, he yanks them and his socks off, too. Discards his jeans by flinging them into some far corner. Red boxer-briefs are all that remain, for the moment. In the next second Dean reaches for a set of pajamas. Picks the set at the top of the pile. Cowboys riding bucking broncos on the pants while lasso script spells out ‘Save a Horse’ on the shirt. As he pulls it overhead, he hears something shift nearby. Turning, Dean finds Cas watching him from the hallway.

“Crap,” he hisses, tugging the shirt down. Cheeks burning under Cas’s intense gaze, “Ever hear of knocking?” Instincts say he should cover himself, but midway through wrapping arms around his midsection Dean realizes what a ridiculous notion that is. Actions aborted Dean’s fingers twitch before they retake his shirt’s hem. Twisting it as the awkward silence continues. “Cas?”

This breaks Cas from whatever trance he fell under. Cas steps into his room, “Sorry, Dean, you left your door open.”

“Right…” If his hands weren’t busy strangling fabric one would be rubbing a hole into the back of his neck. “I – uh, must’ve forgotten.” Dean finally fights back the static drowning his mind, releasing his shirt hem. “What uh… what’re you doing here?”

“I came to check on you.”

Sweet, but totally despicable. Cas’s earnest tone easily overpowers his crumbling defenses, making the flush across his skin deepen. Lips pursed, Dean dips his eyes so he won’t fall prey to the deadliest of his angel’s weapons. Angel blades have nothing on those baby blues. “Thanks,” he coughs, shrugging, “but I wasn’t the one having a full breakdown five feet from the cookie cereal…” He sits down once more, at the foot of his bed, squeezing his knees. “How is Jack, by the way?”

“He’s calmed, somewhat,” Cas tells him, slowly pacing Dean’s room. Picks up Dean’s stray button-down, loosely folding it while he talks. “Sam had a brilliant idea of taking him for a drive.”

“A drive? Is that allowed?”

“Well, Billie didn’t appear and tell us no….” He sets the shirt on Dean’s dresser, claiming the nearby chair for his own. “They left awhile ago. Not sure when they’ll be back.”

“Awhile, huh?” Dean snorts, arching a stern brow. “And you’re only visiting me now?”

Cas stiffens, “Yes. You see – um…” Stuttering, Cas stalls for time as he thinks up an answer.

Tension leaks out of Dean’s shoulders watching him, seeing his angel go through human motions. Dragging a hand through his hair and pulling at his tie, both alight a familiar warmth in his heart. He snuffs that flame a second later, knowing how dangerous it would be if he let it keep. “Kidding,” Dean sighs, smiling, “I’m glad you waited. Probably wouldn’t have been this… chatty?”

“Of course…” Cas says, nodding, “I figured you’d need some time alone… to – to sort through things.”

He’s being generous. Dean used all his strength to not remember the pain stricken across Jack’s face. The wound is still so fresh, Jack ripping off the scabs with a frenzy caused by his soul’s return. Mary’s death hurting like it happened yesterday. “Maybe you should’ve given me five or ten more minutes, then,” he chuckles, tapping at his temple, “still a mess up here.”

“Hmm…”

“Hmm what?”

“Oh, nothing –“

“Bullshit, Cas,” Dean leans forward, a more devilish expression on his face, “C’mon. Tell me what’s going on in your mind.”

“Nothing you probably don’t already know,” Cas says, “I’m… trying to wrap my head around this whole day. Jack getting his soul back… it’s remarkable. But also, troubling. How could that even be possible and – and will it last?”

“Don’t think about it too much, man,” he says, “what happened with Jack it’s… it’s a gift. Probably one of the few we’ve ever gotten that’s come with no strings attached. A win.”

“Have we ever gotten a win like that?”

It’d be so simple. Unfortunately, Dean chomps off the head of his one-word confession. Swallows the three-letters alongside all his other feelings. By the time the corpse of it decomposes in his stomach, Dean realizes it’s been too long since he last spoke. Cas waiting, staring at him. An awkward chuckle bubbles forth, his breath reeking of ashen sincerity. “Bout time we got one, then, don’t you think?”

He concedes, mouth thinning in a cunning smile. “I suppose we are… but enough about what I think.” Dean’s lips pinch tight. “I think we’ve delayed the inevitable conversation. Don’t you?”

“No,” he says, “we can delay it some more. Like… what was up with those bootleg versions of us?” Dean scoffs, “I bet that other me doesn’t even know what pie tastes like… too busy cramming caviar down his throat.”

“You might enjoy caviar. I hear it’s very popular?”

“Caviar’s only popular because it’s expensive,” Dean tells him, “and all those rich dudes spent too much money on it to hate it, so they lie and convince others it’s good and it’s an awful, self-servicing cycle.”

“I didn’t know you had such strong opinions on caviar?”

“I’ve got strong opinions on just about everything…” Dean makes the mistake of glancing up, catching sight of Cas’s judgmental bend of his brow. “But you don’t wanna hear any of those…”

“Not right now, no…” Cas stands, drifting towards his door. “I guess you were right, you do need more time by yourself. Perhaps in the morning –“

“Shit, Cas, I’m sorry,” he says, rising, grabbing his elbow. The touch sears even through the jackets and shirt; Dean’s grasp on it firms, savoring it. “Y’know how… how tough this has got to be for me, right?” His throat cracks on the last word, eyes glistening. He feels the tears brimming behind them, pooling, waiting for release.

Cas sighs, dropping any pretense of exiting. “I do,” he says, hand hovering over Dean’s briefly. Considering if he should. A short argument, as it gently embraces his hand; the one chaining Cas to him. “That’s why I want you to speak. Free yourself of the burden… let me help carry it with you.”

“You don’t have to, Cas,” Dean says, “You’ve got your own things, worries t’deal with –“

“That won’t stop me.”

Stubborn. A double-edged sword that makes up the arsenal of Cas’s traits, all weapons Dean would gladly throw himself on.

Cas quiets, then, waiting for Dean and his response. Words were unneeded. Dean can decipher all he thinks by looking into his angel’s eyes. Captivating, whether in the harsh fluorescents of his bedroom or the soft moonlight of an abandoned church. They always make his head dizzy, thoughts unspooling like Dean drank half a bottle of whiskey or smoked three joints. The more he stays the course, the worse it gets. He nearly forgot hellhounds were baring down on them, Sam their last defense against the creatures, because Cas’s eyes hold a magic that quells any fear or worry gnawing at Dean’s senses.

“Dean?”

“It hurt being around him,” Dean whispers his admittance, inching closer. Chests almost pressed together. Noses dangerously close. His toes practically climbing atop Cas’s dress shoe. “I hate that that’s true but… it is. Because as glad as I was to see the kid still kicking it… I’m just reminded of her.” Cas’s thumb rubs a comforting circle into his knuckles, Dean dropping his gaze there. “Reminded of what he did. How he just didn’t… didn’t get it, y’know. Couldn’t tell that it was bad. He – there was still this… this disconnect. And after he came back I could tell he’d look at me and try to find the words t’apologize but they were never there. And without them, we’d never move past it. He’d still be hurting, and so would I… Which sucks because – because I know you think of him as your son, but y’know… I think of him as mine, too –“

“I like to think of him as ours, Dean.”

“Yes, well…” he clears his throat, tongue wetting his lips as he recovers. Dean chooses tactical evasion, ignoring Cas’s comment and moving on. “He’s like… my second chance. He is a second chance. A second coming, really – sorta like Jesus –“ He pauses, gaze darting towards Cas’s face. “That doesn’t matter. I just… I wanted to make things right with Jack, but he didn’t know how – and I sure didn’t know how. So we were circling each other, doing nothing. I could feel things festering. The happiness that came after Jack’s return began fading; instead of relief there’d be dread whenever he walked into a room. Got it into my head that things’d never get any better, and there was no way of fixing this rift between us.”

“But with his soul, he finally understands,” Cas says, “he’s apologized. That’s what you wanted?”

“It is. I… yeah,” Dean shudders, neck suddenly weak. It bends, Dean’s chin saved from touching his neck by Cas’s forehead supporting his. There noses are beside one another, lips a breath apart. “I know it’s for the best but… seeing him cry, all I wanted to do was hug him. Let him know it’d be all right. Except I ran I… I couldn’t say anything. He was hurting and that – that made me hurt even worse. And then I felt glad he could feel hurt… it sorta spiraled from there.”

Cas hums, Dean’s mouth vibrating with the note. “You were overwhelmed,” Cas says, “there’s no reason for you to be ashamed.”

“Yes, there is.” Dean scowls, “I’m middle-aged, can gank a monster twice my size without blinking, but the second a situation gets too touchy-feely I stomp on the gas and speed through all the red lights.” While Dean talked about Jack, a highlight reel of all his shortcomings playing on a giant screen in his mind. Times where Dean’s emotions short-circuited. Fried his circuits, caused him more pain than necessary. Many of those scenes feature a recurring character, shaped like a man in a trench coat. It flickers out, leaving Dean with a blank slate. That fades, too, and Cas’s face is there.

“It’s not fear, Dean. Not at all,” he says. Protest swells, but with a sharp look from Cas it wanes. “Trust me, as someone who knows you… knows your soul, you – you are not afraid of feelings. Not at all.” He smiles, Dean leaning back for the full effect. Blessed by heavenly light. “On the contrary,” Cas continues, “You embrace your emotions. Unfortunately… sometimes you feel too much and that – that can be particularly difficult to manage. I remember when I was human, sometimes the smallest of ripples in my heart caused me great pains. Something modest like being cold or hungry… or in pain, were too much for me to express. Your capacity for feelings, your intelligence and understanding it’s… fantastic. But there are limits. We all have them. You feel too much sometimes that you cannot express yourself or even deal with them.”

Dean’s tears prick at the corners of his eyes, dangling. Still unshed. “It does feel like that,” he says, “Sometimes it’s… like there’s a highway, and it’s rush hour. Traffic on – on all sides. No one’s moving, and I’m behind the wheel and I want to go but I can’t and I… I get so angry that I can’t.” He lets go of Cas, slipping from his loose grip. “S’what I’m feeling right now.”

Cas accepts Dean’s need for distance, hands retreating into his pockets. “And what I’m here, to tell you, is this. You might be behind the wheel, but you’re hardly alone in that car. Sam’s there. Jack’s there. And I am most certainly there.”

Dean nods, wiping a hand down his face. “Thank you, Cas. I… needed this.”

“I’m glad to be of service, then.” Cas’s tone fell, a discordant pluck of the harp that triggered Dean’s worry. Before he could ask about it, his angel floats away. “I should let you get your rest. Today was exhausting…”

Halfway out the door, Dean stops him. “Cas, wait!”

“Yes?”

Standing there, framed by his doorway, waiting for Dean to continue with shining eyes, Dean thinks his angel never looked more gorgeous. And he wants to tell him. Despite how the words stick in his throat, the sweat dripping from his forehead, and how his feelings might be received, he wants to tell him. He wants to tell him everything. Finally.

That flame from earlier, snuffed out, relights. Burns hotter than Baby’s engine gunning down the highway. Ballooning, spreading through his veins and disorienting him. The room spins, his vision blurs, but Cas stays clear and firm. It’s right there, on the tip of his tongue –

“Yes, Dean?”

He’s cold. Doused by an untimely thought that quells any of his passionate desires, leaving him charred, ashen, and helpless.

Dean notices the frown lines around his mouth. The way his eyes drooped in a way they’ve never done. Shadows stretch across his body, slithering, hiding most of his expression from Dean. But he senses a tiredness there that, on Cas, seems foreign.

The moment passes. It wouldn’t feel right, anyway.

“Just…” his face hurts from the tight grin he forces, “I go both ways.” Blushing, he amends his statement. “I mean, I don’t have to give you all my baggage – I can… I can also help you carry some of yours, if you’d like?”

Cas tilts his head, light revealing a gentle smile. “I’d like that. Night, Dean.”

“Night Cas…”

A closing door never felt more ominous.

Dean stares at it, chewing on his lip. Chest aching, heart beating against it with the force of a storm wreaking havoc. He walks towards the switch, flipping it off. Bathing the room in shadows. Making it easier. “Cas,” he says aloud, looking ahead into the endless darkness. “I love you. After this is all over, and we don’t have any more fights heading our way… I’d like for you to stay. With me. And we can have the life we both deserve. I just… I want you to know what I’m fighting for. It’s not the world. It’s you. It’s us.”

He slips under the covers. Talking to empty air didn’t make the feelings disappear, or easier in dealing with. But it’s a start.

Maybe he’ll do better in the morning.

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel coda #dean winchester #castiel #supernatural #spn #spn15 #15x13 destiny's child #better late than never lol

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feistypaants-archived · 5 years ago

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Biscuit in the Basket

Rating: T Words: 2764 Pairing: Kristanna Summary: Anna doesn't know why she's been so sick, but when she finds out, she has a different problem to worry about. [Set in my Between the Pipes AU] [cw: pregnancy]

Notes: I was missing this AU hahaha. Written to satisfy an itch but I hope you all enjoy! :) YEAH THE TITLE IS ANOTHER HOCKEY JOKE. It's fine. I know who I am.

[AO3]

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Anna looked up from the toilet to see her husband’s worried features staring down at her. His brows were furrowed, lips twisted to one side as he leaned up against the sink, a glass of water in hand. She nodded only once before deciding it was too much movement and lowering her head back into the opening.

“I’ll be fine,” she mumbled, pressing her forehead against the porcelain. “Just a bug.”

She felt his hand spread out over her back and rub in small, soothing circles as he knelt beside her. “I can see if they can put Nemo in for tonight, join up with them in Buffalo tomorrow…”

“No, no.” Anna sighed with relief as a cool cloth settled against the back of her neck. “It’s really…” She scooted back up onto her knees as she retched again, panting for air as the nausea shook her. “It’s okay.”

“Babe…”

Reaching blinding to pat at his knee, Anna did her best to look up at him for just a moment and reassure him. “Honestly. I promise. I’ll be good as new tomorrow.”

She could feel the hesitation radiating off of him, so she crossed her arms over the toilet and rested her cheek against them. “Kristoff. Seriously. I can handle a bug.” His hand stopped moving against her back. “I’ll call you tonight after the game and I’ll be good, I promise.”

Kristoff sighed and leaned forward to press a kiss against her sweaty forehead and nodded, giving up way quicker than she thought he would. “All right,” he said as he stood up. “But if you need anything, you just call and I’ll be on the first flight home, okay?”

“Okay, honey.”

“You’ll call?”

Anna nodded, and reached over for the glass of water he left beside her. “I promise I’ll call.” She shrugged once. “Also, don’t forget my sister is here. And Honeymaren. If I need something I can bother them, too.”

That seemed to ease his worries enough, and he started backing out of the bathroom. “Please call though.”

“I will.”

“I love you.”

Anna smiled, and swallowed the bile she could feel rising in her throat. “I love you, too.”

—

“It keeps hitting in waves. Like, I’ll be totally fine and then out of nowhere, I’m curled around the toilet again.” Anna pouted as she pulled the blankets up to her chin. “And I can’t do anything, I’m so tired.” She heard Elsa humming on the other side of the line and frowned. “It’s been going on for a few days and I’m trying not to worry Kristoff, but I’m feeling all blegh.”

Her sister was too silent for her liking. “What are you thinking?”

Elsa sighed. “Mom used to get really awful periods like this, when we were little. Remember she had the hysterectomy?”

Anna frowned. “... Yeah…”

“When are you supposed to get it?”

She… honestly didn’t know the answer to that. “Hang on,” she mumbled, pulling her phone down from her ear to pull up a tracker app she had started using.

Except that it said her current cycle was at 57 days.

“That’s… not right…”

“What’s wrong?”

Anna tapped it, trying to remember. “When did I have my last period?”

Her sister let out a chuckle. “We’re plenty close, but I don’t track your cycle, Anna.”

“No, I…” Anna refreshed it as she thought. “I must have missed tracking it last month. It says fifty-seven days. That’s…” She was trying to wrack her brain, trying to remember what happened almost thirty days ago. Did she have it? Did they go somewhere?

Wait. It was Elsa and Honey’s wedding.

She definitely didn’t have it then.

The stress could have delayed it… But Anna honestly couldn’t remember having it at any point between then and now, either…

“Hey, Elsa?”

She made a noise of acknowledgement.

“Can you go to the store for me?”

—

Anna was pacing as she listened for the sound of her sisters’ car. As soon as she told her what she needed, Elsa practically ran out the door, promising to be there within the hour.

This couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be. She was on birth control. Sure, it wasn’t one hundred percent effective, but she did her best to take it consistently.

But with everything going in the fall, it was very likely she had gotten lazy about it, or forgotten altogether once or twice.

There was no sense panicking yet. Nothing was confirmed. She just couldn’t remember her last period. And it was possible she was four weeks late. And she was throwing up for three days. And she was sore. And tired. And shit shit shit shit shit.

Elsa let herself in, and power walked through the house to find Anna in the living room. “All right, I got five different tests.” She dug through the bag and produced them one at a time. “Some digital, some regular, this one is supposed to be very sensitive and can detect it earlier, this one is fast, and this one they said is the most accurate and --”

Anna grabbed the closest one and ran towards the bathroom, hollering “I will take all of them!” as she slammed the door shut, and ripped the box open. As she read the directions, her sister came in with all of the tests back in the bag, and a clean cup for her, offering that maybe dipping would be easier since Anna wanted to do all five.

So she did, box by box, test by test, marking which ones needed how much time, and set a timer before sitting back on the toilet and hugging her knees to her chest.

This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t what they had decided. Before they took the step into marriage, they had a long and emotional discussion about everything to do with children and family. Kristoff had been working on things with a counselor, doing his best to unpack some of the trauma he had bottled up, but he was still hesitant - still so afraid of being like his father.

Anna had known from the beginning that this was a fear of his, and she had agreed from day one that they would wait until they were both one hundred percent ready to start the family. Together they decided that Kristoff would be the one to open the discussion, as it was mostly his worries that were holding them back.

But he had just signed another four year contract.

The timer blared, snapping her out of her thoughts as Elsa looked at her, lip caught between her teeth.

Anna pressed her forehead against her knees and sighed. “I can’t look.”

She heard Elsa gathering up the tests, taking a moment to look at them, and placing them back down. “They’re all the same.”

Okay, so whichever it was, it was probably right.

“What does it say?”

Elsa hesitated before tapping Anna’s hand, and placing one of the sticks into her now open palm. Anna covered the screen with her thumb, sat up, placed her feet flat on the ground and took a deep breath before removing her finger.

Two lines.

Pregnant.

“They’re all the same?” Anna could hear the tightness in her throat as her free hand rose up to cover her mouth.

Elsa nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, they’re all the same.”

When Anna fully looked up to her sister, with tears welling up her eyes, she saw the same joy she felt reflected in Elsa’s expression.

“I’m pregnant?” This wasn’t real.

“You’re pregnant.”

Oh. Maybe it was.

Anna practically jumped off of the seat and threw her arms around her sisters’ neck, sobs pulling from deep in her chest as Elsa rubbed at her back. She knew Anna’s reasons for not actively trying before, and It was as if Elsa could sense the conflict burning through her veins. “It’s okay, you’re all right.”

“I…” Anna whimpered, letting her whole body slump. “I’m so happy. What if Kristoff isn’t?”

“He will be.”

“But --”

“He will be.”

Anna nodded, letting go and wiping at her face. “I guess I should make a doctor’s appointment.”

—

It was day seven of his roadie, and Anna had been ignoring his calls for three days.

“Hey baby, I hope you’re still feeling okay. I’m sorry I missed you. It’s late so you’re probably asleep. Sven wanted to go out and celebrate. I’ll call tomorrow?”

It’s all right! We’ll talk later!!

“Hi beautiful. I can’t believe I keep missing you. Should we set a time later? I miss you.”

Sorry! Elsa was over and I didn’t hear my phone. I miss you too.

“I’m starting to feel like you’re screening my calls. Is everything okay?”

I’m not! Just bad timing. I never want to just call you though because you’re way busier. I love you. Everything is okay!

“I texted Elsa. She said you’re still feeling kind of sick. Do you need me to come home? Just say the word.”

No babe, don’t worry.

Okay, just… let me know. I love you.

After that, it seemed like he had stopped trying. Anna felt guilty, she did, but this wasn’t over the phone news… and she didn’t think she’d be able to stop herself from telling him if she actually talked to him. Besides, he’d be home in two days and she could tell him then. And… well she wasn’t quite sure how that conversation would go.

She watched his remaining games and made sure to text him about how proud she was and how much she loved him and that she was going to bed before he would be out of the locker room.

He didn’t even bother to reply tonight.

Anna told herself it was because they were mourning the loss and probably on their way to the airport immediately after the game. It would be well past midnight when they landed, and even later when he would finally get home. She would definitely be asleep, and hoped that a night of rest would put him in a better mood for the discussion that they would be facing tomorrow.

But anxiety kept her awake long into the night.

Long enough that she heard him come through the door, drop his keys, throw his gear into their laundry room, and head up the stairs as quietly as possible.

Anna had the lights out, but she pulled the blankets over her shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping he would believe that she was asleep. Sometimes, if he came back late enough, he would just sleep in the spare room to not disturb her.

Maybe he would do that now.

He opened the door. She heard his steps stop, heard him sigh, and then noticed the light receding behind her eyes as he shut it again. It took a moment for her to decide if he had left or not, but just a few minutes later the door was opening again, and he was making his way quietly to his side of the bed.

Kristoff climbed in, and immediately wrapped his arms around her, pulling Anna flush to his chest.

Oh. She hadn’t realized how much she missed him.

Anna could feel the tears coming as he pressed two soft kisses against the back of her neck.

A small stir, to pretend she was just waking. “Kristoff?” she mumbled, doing her best to fake sleep-slurred speech.

“Hi baby,” he whispered, pressing another kiss behind her ear. “I missed you.”

She swallowed, her throat tight, as she pulled his arms tighter around her. “I missed you, too.”

Kristoff was silent, just breathing softly behind her as she cuddled into his embrace. How did she go five days without talking to him? How had she ever? But then his voice broke through the darkness again, strangled and upset. “Why were you ignoring me?”

“I… I wasn’t…”

“You were.”

Anna started to twist around to face him as he let go of her body. “I was not!”

“Okay.”

He slid away from her and moved to get up, pausing only when her hands tangled into his shirt. “Wait, please, just…”

She could hear the tears in his breathing, could feel all of the agony radiating off of him.

Would he understand?

Would he be angry?

“Can we talk about it tomorrow?” She wanted one night of him holding her close before she had to deal with it.

He shook his head. “I’d rather talk about it now.”

“But we’re both tired, and I missed you and --”

“Okay. I’ll sleep in the guest room.” Kristoff was swinging his legs over the side of the bed, gripping at her hands.

No, no no. She needed him here. “Wait, please, I…”

He froze, giving her a chance. Just one. She had to say something. She had to tell him.

“I’m pregnant.”

This was the longest silence of her life.

“I just…” She sat up, and cupped his jaw with her palms. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know if you’d be upset or… I just… I didn’t want to tell you over the phone and I knew I’d blurt it out if we talked and I…” she ran her fingers across the stubble on his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I just… I’m really happy but also really nervous and I just didn’t want to talk about it on the phone I… I shouldn’t have ignored you. I’m --”

“You’re pregnant?”

Anna held her breath. “Yes.”

The barely there moonlight was all that illuminated his face. She couldn’t read him, couldn’t see well enough to know what he was thinking. All she had was the silence that was dragging on and on.

“I know this wasn’t the plan. I know that we’re not there yet. I… I know you’ve been working with Yelena, working on it but I…” She hesitated before wrapping her arms around his shoulders and leaning into him, letting out a small sigh of relief when his arms circled around her waist in return. “Babe, please say something.”

His grip tightened around her, his cheek pressing against hers and his breathing erratic before he practically whimpered out an “I’m gonna be a dad?”

“Yeah, honey, you are.” Anna felt him bury his nose into her neck, felt his whole body start to shake. “Is this good crying?” He nodded, and Anna felt her whole body relax, the whole last week of stress melting away as he sat back just enough to look at her, eyes still wet.

Kristoff lifted his hands to her jaw, stroking soft thumbs over her skin before he began peppering kisses across her face; her nose, lips, eyelids, forehead, and Anna felt herself start to cry, too. She couldn’t begin to put into words the immense relief she felt as he kissed her full on the mouth, a small laugh bubbling out of him.

“I…” he let out another breath and pressed his forehead against hers. “I was going to bring it up at the end of the season.”

Anna felt her stomach swoop. “What?”

“I told you, right when we first… started…” another short chuckle. “That I wanted a really big family. I meant it. I could…” His palms slid down the length of her arms before taking her hands in his. “It’s been so hard to wait, Anna. But I knew it was for the best. For me…” He laid gentle kisses against her knuckles. “We’ve been married for three years now, and… I’ve already proven to myself that I can be a pretty good husband.” He paused and kissed her fingers again. “Right?”

“The best,” she agreed, nodding enthusiastically.

“I didn’t think I could be that.” He swallowed and fiddled with her engagement ring. “But if I can be… I think I’ll be able to be a pretty good dad, too.” He shrugged. “Even when playing.”

Anna laughed and laid a palm against his cheek. “You definitely will be.”

A new silence, one filled with hope and love and excitement stretched between them, before Anna darted forward and threw herself into his arms, kissing him wherever her mouth landed.

“I love you so much.”

Kristoff laughed, held her close, and returned her kisses with just as much fervor.

“If you don’t stop,” he mumbled against her, his hands roaming freely, “we’re going to get started on number two right now.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Anna laughed, pulling him closer. “But why don’t we give it a try?”

#btpfic #feistypantswrites #kristanna

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crewhonk · 5 years ago

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Only Happy Accidents (two)

Summary: After being ghosted by YN, a girl he turned out really liking, Steve goes to her door to find out just what he did wrong.

Warnings: pregnancy test stress, gross food cravings, NatBucky fluff, stressed!Steve

Songs: “Archer”- Taylor Swift

Masterlist

____________________________

November 14th / 2nd Week

YN YLN felt like someone came down from heaven and took a shit on her face. She had felt wonderful since Steve had been over up until now, and she groaned, burying her face into her pillow and trying t find any lingering scents of Steve on her pillow. She made a noise in the back of her throat when she found nothing but the scent of her own shampoo. She reached over to her phone under her pillow and looked at it, a thrill shooting through her body when she saw that she had a text from none other than the Retired Captain America.

From: Grandpa

Morning, pretty thing :)

The dork hadn’t sent her one single emoji, and she doubted that if he even knew what they were that he would like them. ‘too kiddish’, she could hear him say and she kicked her feet like a teenager.

To: Grandpa

Morning, handsome! How was ur morning so far??

She locked her phone and checked the date on the lockscreen, squinting at the number suspiciously. There was something supposed to be happening right now. Today was a Thursday, so she had it off, but there was something else personally.

Her eyes widened, and every nerve in her body felt as if it had been dipped in ice water.

She was supposed to have gotten her period eight whole days ago.

She ripped her blankets off of her, and pulled her pants down, groaning when there was no blood to be found and cursing to herself. She had always been regular with her cycle. She tracked it, and took vitamins and magnesium and iron supplements and even went sustainable with it— got a diva cup and everything. Sure, her period sucked but it was usually one thing that she could count on to be on time.

She rushed to the bathroom to splash water on her face and wracked her brain to try to remember if she and Steve had used protection. They had in the morning, she knew— she made sure to roll the condom on herself and everything but the night before was so quick and hurried and oh, God. No. No they had not used protection.

Fuck.

“MICHAELA!” She screamed, walking quickly out to the kitchen where her best friend and roommate was, hunched over some law books and eating her smoothie bowl breakfast. YN didn’t even bother teasing her about it and met Michaela’s surprised eyes with her own very, very scared ones.

“What? Are you bleeding out? What the fuck?” She yelled back, clutching her heart while moving to mop up the glass of water she spilled across the island.

“No I’m— okay, so you know the guy I had over on Halloween that I told you about?” She started and Michaela nodded nervously.

“Magic Dick Steve? I remember.”

“Well I don’t think— I don’t think we used protection? The first time? We were both pretty drunk and—“ YN had started to shake. “And I might be reading into it too much but I’ve been really tired lately and my boobs are really, really sore and I’ve been really nauseous? Maybe It’s the flu but I’ve— my period it late.” She finished, and watched as Michaela’s eyes widened.

“You’re never late.” She whispered, and YN felt tears well up in her eyes.

“I know.” She mumbled and Michaela stood, walking around the counter and pulling her to her. She hugged her tightly and pulled away, dragging YN down the hallway and back to the bathroom.

“I didn’t tell you this, but a few months ago when you were in Peru with that Anthropology dig, me and Charlie had a scare and I got a whole bunch of these guys.” She held up a box of thin, paper pregnancy tests from the bottom cabinet.

“Isn’t that when you went off your pill?” She asked, taking the box. Michaela nodded.

“Yeah, turns out my body freaked out hugely and said ‘fuck you’ to my period that month.” She shrugged. “Take a few, and we’ll take it from here, okay?”

________________________

So, YN peed in a disposable mouthwash cup (and on her hand a little bit, but we won’t talk about that) and dipped three tests into it, laying it out on the edge of the tub and sliding down he closed door after setting a timer on her phone. Time seemed to become impossibly slow for three whole minutes and she jolted violently when her phone went off. She checked it, and tears welled up in her eyes when she saw that she had gotten a text from Steve.

From: Grandpa

I’m pretty good. miss you though.

She put her phone back down and stood, opening the door and calling shakily from Michaela. She showed up seconds later, and wiped YN’s tears from her face.

“I can’t— I can’t look.” She whimpered and Michaela shushed her softly.

“You can.” Her voice acted as an anchor for which YN could ground herself with and she tried to move her feet towards the tests.

“What do I do with Steve? I can’t— it would trap him. I don’t even know the guy. I can’t just drop a bomb like that on him when we haven’t even gone on a date yet.” She cried and Michaela frowned, her heart breaking for her friend.

“From what you’ve told me, he’ll be there for you. He seems like a good guy. Now, let’s look, okay?”

YN nodded and with the help of Michaela, walked across the bathroom and ducked down to see if there was anything other than the first red line. She squinted, and let out a huge breath when there was no line on the first two tests. She checked the last one, and every organ in YN’s body burst into flames when she thought she could see a second, very faint line.

“Michaela.”

“What.”

“Is that a second line? On the last test.” She whispered, as if raising her voice any louder was going to make the line darker. Michaela leaned in close and squinted, freezing when she did, in fact, see the second line.

“I think so. I think it is.” She confirmed, and YN’s knees gave out. Her hand absently fell to her lower stomach and she lower lip trembled.

“This may not be it, though okay? Let’s go to Planned Parenthood and get a real test, okay? Then we can spend thirty dollars on a really good test and we’ll make a plan from there, okay?” Michaela sunk other knees and held YN’s face, wiping more tears away and offering her a small smile.

“Okay.”

_______________________

There was no way that all ten tests in front of her were wrong. There was no way the printed diagnosis from Planned Parenthood and a pamphlet reading ‘Plans For The Single Parent�� were telling her that her uterus was empty. There was no way the Clearblue test reading ‘Pregnant: 2-3 weeks’ was wrong— it better not be, considering it was a whole thirty dollars.

YN sat staring at them, bouncing her leg and glancing at her phone every few seconds, half expecting for Steve to already know despite his three unresponded-to-texts still on her lock screen. She could hear Michaela talking to her boyfriend, Charlie in the other room and YN felt truly and utterly alone.

However, her hand had yet to leave her stomach during the whole day, as if the idea of a baby being in there (despite it being no more than a bunch of cells at this point) was a point fo focus for her. Despite the overwhelming elements fo her situation, there was a flutter of excitement in her chest. She had never wanted kids, and then the snap happened, and she was gone and then she was back, and her dad, who was in a plane during the snap had fallen from 5 miles in sky and landed belly first in the ocean. But now that it was a very real possibility, she couldn’t help but get a little excited.

There was one one person she truly wanted to talk to, right now. The urge to hear their voice overpowered any other feeling and YN reached for her phone, choosing the first contact she recently texted and waited as the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Mom? I need your help.”

_______________________

November 31st, 4th Week

“This is probably the grossest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Why are you making this monstrosity in my house?” Michaela groaned, pulling the neck of her turtleneck sweater over her nose as she walked into the kitchen. YN rolled her eyes and shook her head, bouncing lightly to the music playing from her laptop.

“Just because you’re the pickiest human in the world doesn’t mean other people can’t eat fun foods,” YN replied, lifting the lid on the stove and sniffing deeply.

“Canned crab with sauerkraut on crackers is not a fun food.” Michaela grumbled and sat at the counter. YN rolled her eyes and stirred the pot, shrugging her shoulders.

“What baby wants baby gets.” She replied simply and closed the lid, leaning against the counter beside the stove and cocking her head. “Would you prefer boiled clams in hot sauce or crushed up Doritos dipped in a Starbucks Frappuccino to this or—?” YN trailed off and Michaela gagged openly, covering her mouth.

“Maybe a salad. With nutrients that the baby needs.” She replied and YN rolled her eyes, opening the cabinet beside the fridge and turning around to stare at Michaela. Her eyes raked over the prenatal supplements and vitamins marked for different days of the weeks and then to the daily pill organizer in YN’s hand.

“I’ve also cut my coffee from five cups to half a cup because I’m paranoid and I’m not eating dairy, which is hard because you know how much I loved pineapple and cottage cheese together. And this is the only meal I’ve been able to eat this week without getting nauseous and throwing up.” She commented, turning back and turning off the stove. Michaela walked over and leaned over the pot, wrinkling her nose but grabbing a spoon nonetheless.

“I’m going to try it. Not because I’m curious but because I’m supporting my single-pregnant best friend.” She said, saying a little prayer and shoving the goopy mess into her mouth. She froze, chewed once and gagged, grabbing YN’s hand and spitting the mouthful of food into her hand.

“I hate you.” She grumbled and stuck her head under the sink, rinsing her mouth and making her laugh loudly, clutching her chest. It was only seconds after that there was a knock on their door which YN made to get. She turned to her friend and pointed.

“I made you do nothing. That was fully consensual on your part.” She laughed, spinning and opening the door with a smile.

It was Steve. Holding a bouquet of her second favourite flowers. Smiling nervously with those blue eyes and big muscles and beard and short, carefully styled hair. She remembered in flashes the sound he made when he moaned. The sound he made when she made him laugh. The way he looked sucking whipped cream off her finger. The way his voice sounded that one time when they talked until five in the morning.

So, she did what any sensible person did and slammed the door in his face.

At the sound, Michaela walked around the corner, peeking behind YN to see that the door was still closed. There was a knock and Steve’s voice saying something YN couldn’t hear over the blood rushing in her ears.

“Who is it?” Michaela whispered, seeing the fear in her eyes.

“Steve.” YN replied, her mouth feeling as if it was stuffed with cotton. Michaela pushed past her and looked through the peep hole, ducking immediately and turning to her with wide eyes.

“That’s Steve?! You fucked Captain America on our kitchen counter and then hand fed him waffles?” Michaela whisper-yelled.

“First off, he’s not Captain America anymore. Sam Wilson is, and second yes. Steve isn’t really an uncommon name so..” YN trailed off uselessly and Michaela looked to YN’s stomach.

“Well I mean it makes sense,” Michaela said quickly. “All of your symptoms are stronger and you only had sex once without protection so it makes sense he has super sperm.” He said and YN shushed her as if Steve was on the other side with his ear to the door.

“What do I do.” YN deadpanned and Michaela bit her lip.

“You know what I think you should do. I think it’s time to tell him.” She said and YN nodded, wiping her hands on her pants and walking to the door, hesitating briefly before turning the doorknob and opening it.

“YN. Hi.” He seemed breathless, and he looked at her softly. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I should have texted, but you weren’t responding and I got worried.”

YN shook her head and opened the door wider. “Steve, I think you should come in. We need to talk.” She whispered, and his shoulders fell as if he was expecting her to say something like this.

“I figured.” He mumbled, handing Michaela the flowers and following YN to the living room where she pulled a shoe box from the shelf under the table and placed it on the top.

“What’s going on, YN? Did I do something wrong?” He asked, turning towards her. She sat straight, not taking her eyes off the box in front of her and shaking her head.

“You’ve been perfect Steve, and none of this is your fault, I should have been more responsible.” She whispered, her throat thick. She could hear Michaela eavesdropping from the kitchen.

“Then what—?” He trailed off and went to touch her, but pulled away at the last second, not wanting to upset her further.

“Something happened and I don’t— I don’t know what to do.” She said, finally looking at him with shining eyes. His face crumpled at the sight of her tears and h scooted closer to her, grabbing her hand gently.

“I can help, YN. Whatever it is I can help you.” He said softly, holding her hand in both of his own.

“I couldn’t ask that of you, Steve. Not with this— we hardly know each other.” She sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. She noticed briefly how good Steve looked in his brown coat and jeans and scarf and boots but shook her head when her periphery caught sight of the box on the table.

“YN.” He said sternly and she melted slightly, squeezing her eyes shut.

“I’m pregnant, Steve. The baby is yours— it has to be. There hasn’t been anyone since the snap except for you.” She finally said in one quick breath, she looked up at him to gauge his reaction. His face was a flat of marble, no expression or emotion in his eye. She half expected him to stand up and walk out until she remembered that this was, in fact, Steve Rogers and walking away from a challenge was unheard of. That’s what the textbooks said, anyways. She lifted the cover on the box and he peered in, eyes widening when he saw all the tests and pamphlets she had been reading and collecting.

“Okay.” He said finally and he seems to be wracking his brain for something to say. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Were you just going to wait until you had him to tell me and collect money or something?” He asked. YN raised her eyebrows and shook her head fervently.

“No, no, no, no, Steve. I would never. I just didn’t— I don’t— know what to do.”

“What do you mean?” He asked, reassuring her by his tightened grip on her hand.

“I wasn’t sure how to tell you and what you would want to do with her.” She said and he raised his eyebrows.

“It’s a girl?” He whispered, looking down to her stomach. She shook her head.

“No, she’s nothing more than a bunch of cells, but ‘she’ just comes naturally to me? You said she was a ‘he’ earlier, so.” She smiled softly and he returned it, not looking away from her stomach.

“Well, what are the options?” He asked, looking up at her and she shook her head.

“One, I keep her and you leave.” She started and he looked genuinely affronted.

“Not a chance. Next.”

“I go to Planned Parenthood—“

“No. Next.”

“I keep her, and you stay.” She whispered, looking up at him nervously. He froze, but nodded surely and cleared his throat. When he spoke he sounded rather choked and it made tears return o her eyes.

“That’s an option for you?” He whispered and she nodded.

“It’s my ideal option, Steve. This is your baby too.” She replied, equally quiet. He looked up and pulled her closer to him and she let it happen. Now, their thighs were pressed against the other and their heads were closer together.

“You move into my place, though. I’ll get rid of my office so we can make it into a nursery and I keep work at work and family at home. I’d like to know you’re both safe.” He said, jumping to what he wanted to happen. She nodded.

“That’s petty reasonable.” She commented. “I don’t have much, so it shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Your turn. Name a demand.” He returned and she wracked her brain.

“I want to go part-time at work, but I won’t if we can’t afford it.” She said. Thinking about the cost of things came naturally to her since she had grown up in the Bronx.

“Babe.” He whispered, amused and smiling.

“What?” She whispered back, smiling as well.

“I have about 100 years of government compensation in my bank account. Plus I was a Stark Employee and an Avenger for twelve years. Money isn’t an issue, I promise.” He explained, and she nodded. The relief that had washed over her then was overwhelming and she coughed into her fist, a sob building in her throat.

“Sorry,” She choked, rubbing her eyes. “This happens a lot.”

“It does!” They heard a voice from the kitchen and YN glared a the door.

“Fuck you, Michaela!”

“Promise?” She called back and Steve smiled, chuckling lowly.

“Your turn.” She said, nudging him. He sucked in a breath and thought hard.

“I’m at all the appointments. I’m at all the classes. We don’t announce it to the public, but we don’t hide the fact that you’re pregnant. I’ll have to talk to Pepper soon, but only when you’re ready. I want to be in this with you. The whole ride.” He said and YN blinked more tears out of her eyes. He pulled his jacket off and pulled his sweater sleeve over his fist and wiped them from her face gently. She sucked in a breath and leaned into his touch slightly, not fighting it when he pulled away from her.

“Good.” There was a pause of silence before he shifted nervously, a new idea popping into his head. “What?” She asked.

“This is gonna be a little extreme, actually.” He sounded afraid, but she nodded for him to continue despite her own nerves rising. “I’ve been learning that it’s okay to have kids with your boyfriend or girlfriend now, and that’s really great and cool but it doesn’t work for me.” He said and she looked up at him, alarmed.

“What?”

“We don’t have to, but my Ma would roll in her grave if she found out I had a kid with someone that I wasn’t uh— legally bound to.” He winced at the formality of his own words.

“I don’t think I understand,” She said. She did, she just didn’t quite believe what exactly he was asking her.

“I would like to marry you. It’s really important for me that my kid is uh— mine. And was born into a marriage, you know?” Steve’s voice seemed far away as he continued to speak, and YN swayed in her seat.

“YN?” He asked, watching her eyes become unfocussed and falling for Michaela. She heard nothing more before her eyes closed and she slumped back on the couch, unconscious.

________________________

The first thing YN remembered when she woke up was a cool cloth being pressed to her forehead. She sighed at the sensation, rolling her head away from the glaring light from the window and opened her eyes, smiling as Michaela looked down at her.

“Hey, Mich. I had the weirdest dream.” She started, groaning a the pounding headache in her brain and sitting up slowly. “Remember Steve? Magic Dick Steve? Yeah. That’s Steve Rogers. Anyways, I had a dream that I was pregnant with his kid and he asked me to marry him. He was wearing his suit, though which as weird because I couldn’t see his face behind his helmet-hat-thing.” She mumbled, rubbing her forehead.

“That wasn’t a dream, YN.” Said a low voice from the kitchen. YN looked over and her eyes widened when she saw Steve Rogers walk through the door, a plate of crackers and crab and sauerkraut in his hands. There was also a reusable mouthwash cup filled with her medication and a bottle of water in his other hand.

“Holy Moses, baby Jesus in the garden be with me.” YN prayed briefly and accepted the plate of food from him, piling it into her mouth much to the amusement of Steve and the disgust of Michaela.

“It’s the same thing my ma used to crave, actually.” Steve shrugged. “I tried to make it one time back in the day for mothers day but the only fish I could afford was the crawdaddies from the pond down the street and the crackers I stole from Bucky’s house. I couldn’t even use the stove, yet so everything was raw.” He smiled when she laughed loudly at his story. “Yeah, she wasn’t too big of a fan but she appreciated it all the same.”

“That’s really cute, Rogers.” She smiled.

“I’m sorry for dropping that request on you, I never meant to hurt you.” He muttered eventually and she shook her head.

“I’ve actually fainted twice already so it isn’t too much of a big deal, but yeah. That was a good request.” She scratched her nose and took all the pills at once, gulping down half the bottle with it and leaning on her elbows.

“I’m sorry again.” He whispered and she shook her head.

“It’s your kid, Steve. It only makes sense you would want that for her.”

“Him.” He teased and she rolled her eyes.

“I’ll do it.” She said finally and his head whipped over to her as fast as lightning. She was half worried that she would need to take him to the hospital incase he tore something.

“What?”

“I’ll marry you. I think you’re a pretty great guy, Steve and I’m not getting any younger, anyways.” She shrugged and Michaela gaped at them like a fish.

“You’re 24, YN.” She scolded and she looked at her friend.

“And my baby daddy wants to stick around and support us. It’s only fair I do this for him.” She shrugged, looking between their stunned faces.

“Are you sure?” Steve asked, aghast and shocked but looking sedately overjoyed.

“As sure as I’ll ever be, Rogers.” She stuck out her hand and he looked at it with a raised eyebrow. “You take care of me and your kid and I marry you? Sounds like a pretty good deal to me.” She commented and he took her hand in his.

“It’s a deal, then.” He smiled softly and tried his damned best to not jump across the couch and kiss her. This was never how he wanted to propose to someone, but hey, he was 106. Never a time like the present, right?

“Damn it.” Michaela swore. The newly-engaged couple looked over at her and she shook her head at both of them. “I’m gonna have to find a craigslist roommate aren’t I?”

_____________________

Tag List (send me an ask, ONLY. must interact with the fic more than a like): yesfanficsaremylife / notyourtypicalrose / laurxn-robinson / disaster-rose / lille-kattunge / wwecrazed2010 / vxidnik / chewingoffmyfoot / vitamingrant / captainamericasbeard / chrisgalore / songforhema

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers au #steve rogers angst #steve rogers smut #steve rogers soulmate #steve rogers series #Steve Rogers smut #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #Steve Rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #Dad!Steve #dad!steve rogers

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