#russian deep house

[storywestistrash]

i am actually so tired of the way westerners treat eastern europeans

[flaminghomosexualbreadsticks]

writing is crazy why do i have an insane hyperfixation on late 19th century russia because i vaguely insinuated that a short story i wrote two years ago takes place there

[spilladabalia]

Identified Patient - The Female Medical College of Pennsylvania

Video from Kingdom Of Crooked Mirrors (Aleksandr Rou, 1963)

[waleedgamil]

MOVIE :Suka

Watch Full Movie Free :https://bit.ly/4aEGcuu

[crookedteethed]

18+ various kinks, slight smut, hints of dub con/non-con kink

⋆ ★ Thinking about the Rafe's and their specific kinks <3

Season One Rafe would so be into doing lines of coke off your body--bonus points if you are about to do it behind the big rock at the beach or on his balcony during one of his Kook parties because he's also a bit of an exhibitionist. 

It felt decadent to Rafe to pull out your perfectly plush tits (or your ass) and sprinkle a bit of that angel dust down the valley of your breast. He wouldn't snort it immediately; he'd wait until he had his thick length inside your sopping wet cunt--and then he'd snort the line, engulfed in your deliciousness. 

Fuck did Rafe love your body, but fuck did he love coke--so why not mix the two?

Rafe had adorned the thrill he got when he got that first hit of blow mixed with the thrill he got when he'd first plunged into your cunt; it often made him want to fuck you harder until your nose bleed.

If he couldn't fuck you hard enough until your nose bleed, he would settle for bruising your skin with big love bits and hickies--it had something to do with his male ego.

In a way that was larger then just decadence, Season One Rafe loved the thrill he gotten for knowing he has and will be the only man that's been inside you.

Like all the times he would purposely brush your gums with coke on his fingers, and then put you in a jaw gripping kiss, just to lick your mouth clean, all while sitting across from Kelce and Topper.

He loved the power it gave him knowing he was the only person that could use you like this.

Season Two Rafe always found himself palming or adjusting his cock at your innocence.

I mean, fuck, how could he not get hard when you're kneeling on your knees in front of him, wide eyes and mouth full of his cock, asking him, "Like this?" Because you've never sucked dick before. 

And though Rafe did love the more skilled girls--he loved how he never had to tell them what to do--Rafe also had loved your naiveness and your naiveness with a cock. 

Did you sometimes use your teeth when blowing him? Maybe. 

But it's not like Rafe could scorn you about it; he knew that you simply didn't know any better, and that's why Rafe was the one to be your first everything so he could teach you better.

Apart from Rafe and his attraction to your innocence, he also had a kink for destroying that innocence. 

Fuck he thought he was going to bust his load when he finally coerced you into doing coke for the first time. 

Rafe had been low himself, so he wanted to make someone who could be low with him. (It's true what they say about misery-liking company.) 

Like the time in Season Two when Rafe had taken your virginity, yeah, you cried and kept whimpering to him, "it hurt." or "stop" but all of that was just ammunition to him; he loved to consume something so pure and innocent and ruin it for nobody else to have it--like what had happened to him.

Season Three Rafe would have a breeding kink. I mean, it goes hand in hand with his "man of the house" mentality. 

There is no doubt about it: Rafe is a thrill seeker--it's why he does coke or purposely picks fights. 

Fucking you without a condom was such a thrill to Rafe--it was like playing Russian roulette, but the chances of him getting shot were the chances of him getting you knocked up (which he didn't mind). 

But what had turned him on was after shooting his cum inside of you, it was so hot for Rafe to force his cum to stay inside you. 

He'll either plug your discarded panties into your cunt, or force you to finger yourself so you can push the cum deep inside of you. And if you were being too bratty, he'll just fuck the cum deep inside of you. 

None of Rafe's cum would go to waste. None of it. 

Even when you give him blowjobs, he'll scoop the cum that either landed on your face or tits and smear the cum around your pussy. 

God, Season Three Rafe could not wait for the day you swelled and leaked with milk, all because of him.

But all this goes to say, he wouldn't mind it, if you were to call him Daddy (in and out of the bedroom).

Honorable Mention:

I also feel like each Rafe would without a doubt be into choking.

[notanactressyayy]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𝐬𝐡𝐡... 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞

pairing . Natasha Romanoff x virgin! fem! reader

summary . when she decides to make the move and discovers you had never experienced anything like that ever before, she plans the perfect way to put your fears away and get to see that side of yours for the first time.

warnings . smut! i am not responsible for your content consumption! — implied sexual abuse (from Dreykov), virginity loss, foreplay, nipple play, strap on usage, fingering, multiple orgasms, lots of praises, Natasha's incredibly hot russian.

notes . english is not my first language (🇧🇷) so i apologize for any spelling errors. feedback is highly appreciated! <3

divider credits: @anitalenia

you had been waiting for Nat to come home from the avengers compound all day. she had told you Tony was making some updates on FRIDAY and needed the team's opinion on everything, so she stayed there a little longer than the usual.

you had to admit — it was never the same without her in the house. wearing her clothes didn't help as much as you thought, neither did Liho meowing all day as if telling you she missed her.

so your eyes perked up to the door as you heard the doorknob turning, eyes sparkling at the sight of Natasha. she was smiling.

most of the times she came back from the compound she had bruises and cuts from missions, and looked down and tired. so knowing she had fun with her team made your day a hundred times better. even if it was already midnight.

"hey, kitten," she chuckles and crouches down to pick the cat up as she runs to her, immediately nuzzling against her and meowing. "i missed you too,"

"i missed you too." you say quietly, Natasha's eyes immediately following the voice. she drops her bag on the floor and runs towards you, sitting on the edge of the couch where you laid.

"hi, dorogaya!" she places her hand on your cheek and pecks your lips, coaxing a little sigh out of you. her mouth then travels to your forehead to plant a kiss there. "i'm sorry for making you wait. but it was so fun. all i could think about was coming home and telling you!"

you giggle, seeing her so enthusiastic. you shift to make room for her on the couch and she adjusts herself so you're leaning on her chest now — Liho laying comfortably on both of you. "okay. tell me!"

"so," she begins, taking a deep breath as she became selfconscious about how happy she was. "Ant Man was there, and he was struggling with his pym-particle blasters and he became very very tiny. more than he should. and then, when Tony opened FRIDAY's device, he decided to tease all of us and entered there, tickling the artificial intelligence! she pretended to laugh, and Tony couldn't understand why everything he was trying to do wasn't working."

her laugh was so sweet, so genuine, that a sense of calm washed over you, everything was okay now, you were both okay. and knowing Natasha, having her happy was the best gift you could ever have. your arms wrapped around her neck, and you kisses the tip of her nose. "i'm glad you had a great day with them,"

Natasha's lips parted as she felt the kiss, her gaze locking with yours. she realized she had finally gotten rid of that feeling that something bad could happen anytime. she wasn't alert 24/7 anymore. now, she was home. with you. "i did.. and i have you now."

she carefully picks the sleeping cat and place her on the little bed next to the couch, then returns her attention to you. her hands travel down to your waist, fingertips sliding under the thin shirt you wore. you gulp, fingers tangling in her red locks and pulling her closer.

"i have you, now." you repeat quietly, before crashing your lips on hers.

the russian immediately melts against you, a faint groan echoing from the back of her throat, the vibrations going straight to your core. she carefully lifts you up and pulls you onto her thigh, allowing your weight to rest on her. you usually didn't have make out sessions, since she was with the others most of the time, doing missions. but you wouldn't let that opportunity slide.

the tip of your tongue darts out and licks her bottom lip, a silent plea for something more. she was surprised. she didn't usually see you making the moves. her lips part fully, welcoming your tongue in her mouth, as she returns the action. her tongue mingles with yours, slowly, wanting to make the moment last, but it wasn't enough.

her hand slid up your back, pulling your chest flush against her own. you whimper as the kiss deepens, body shifting and molding perfectly with her. this was getting further than you thought it would.

Natasha broke the kiss with a small gasp, shifting your positions and carefully laying you down on the couch. her body hovered yours, and her lips trailed kisses down your face, your neck. your eyes widened — in surprise, but also in panic.

"Nat," you breathlessly whisper, weakly grabbing her shoulders to hold onto her. her lips didn't stop, only seeming to be hungrier and hungrier for you. "wait,"

"no, krasivaya, (beautiful,)" she mumbles against your skin, pulling your body even closer to her. she didn't want to stop. "just let me, please,"

you take a deep shaky breath to try and calm yourself down. you knew Natasha, and that she'd never hurt you, so this helped. you carefully took her face in your hands, and pulled her head which was tucked on your neck back. she took a great look into your eyes, and frowned. "what's up, baby?"

"nothing, it's just.." you sigh. her eyes narrow for a brief second, then, a small chuckle comes out of her mouth. damn it, she saw the soft pink creeping up your cheeks.

"are you shy?" she inquires, raising her eyebrow. you got relieved as she suddenly got off you and sat on the couch properly, pulling you onto her lap again and wrapping her arms around your waist.

"it's not that." you shake your head and look down, begining to pick on your nails.

it wasn't shyness. you just had a feeling that would lead towards sex. and not that you weren't ready, you just never had it before — other than pleasuring yourself — and Natasha didn't know that fact, until now.

"oh..." she suddenly realizes what's going on. instead of getting angry, a smile tugs on the corner of her lips again. she looks at your face for some good seconds, before wrapping her arms completely around your frame and pulling you to her chest.

that reminded her of all the times she was forced to do something she had no idea of what it was, all the times she felt scared, felt dirty, doing something she didn't want to. god, she didn't want you to feel like that. she never wanted anyone to feel like that, ever.

"are you a virgin, lyubovmoya? (my love,)" her voice sounds extremely calm and tender that it makes you a little surprised. "tell me,"

"yes, yes i am." you exhale and lean your head on her shoulder, eyes fluttering close.

"okay. do you wanna keep it like that?"

that. the question you've been most fearing. usually, if it were anybody else, you'd say no. but Natasha just made you feel so safe, so loved. you wanted to take that step further with her.

"no, i don't."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

"just keep 'em closed,"

your soft giggle melts Natasha. her hand covers your eyes as her hand maneuvers you by your hip, inside the bedroom. she had decided to keep everything natural for you this day. no rushed things. but she couldn't be happier. you were trusting her with that.

"did you feed Liho?" you whisper as Natasha carefully places you on a specific spot on the room.

"i'm about to fuck you and you're worried about the cat?" she laughs, making you gasp. you playfully smack her shoulder.

"you!" you smile. her hand gets removed from your eyes. they immediately get dreamy at the sight in front of you.

Natasha was only in a set of lingerie. for the first time ever, you saw her. it was something she thought — in order for you to feel safe, she'd have to show you she felt safe with you herself. because deep inside, she was just another broken, insecure person.

your eyes scanned her body, trying carefully not to stare too hard, seeing the scars and marks that engraved her skin. your fingertips shyly reached for her, and she didn't stop you. in fact, her hands hovered yours as she slid them up her skin.

a quiet 'wow' leaves you, followed by a genuine smile of yours. you pull her closer, looking all doe eyed at her. "you're beautiful,"

"i wanna see you too," she looks down at you. "can i?"

"you can," you hum, raising your arms, a silent invitation for her to undress you.

Natasha's fingertips gently tug at the hem of your blouse, before pulling it over your head. you were the complete opposite of her. smooth skin, no battle scars like hers. she was quick to kneel down and tease the buttons of your jeans, wanting to see if you would stop her or not.

"please, Natasha."

she does as you ask and undo the jeans, letting them pool around you on the floor. she helps you step out of them, and hum as you're both now half naked. everything felt otherworldly romantic and.. safe. even if Natasha was trying her best not to ruin you right there, just by seeing you so soft, so.. vulnerable for her like that. she liked being in control for once.

so your eyes squeezed shut as she suddenly pressed her body against yours and pinned you back against the wall. "shh."

your breath hitches in anticipation, her fingertips slowly tracing up your spine and allowing her palm to rest above the clasps of your bra. Natasha's free hand moves up your stomach, her knee sneakingly trapping you against the wall between your legs. she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "let me, malyshka. (baby). i know what i'm doing, just relax."

"mhm," a little whine comes out of your throat, which makes her smile. she nods in encouragement and moves her mouth close to your ear, pressing a kiss on the spot under it.

"ya ne khochu, chtoby ty zhalel obo mne, detka, (i don't want you to regret me, baby,)" she whispers in your ear, and you have no idea of what it means. but something was right — the thin fabric of your panties felt extremely soaked right now. "so, i'll make you feel so, so good."

"please," you wrap your arms around her neck, pressing yourself closer. her skin felt better than you could have ever imagined against your own.

"i'm here." she reassures you, then carefully spins you around and lay you down on the bed. her hand that ghosted over your back undid the clasps of your bra, and tossed it somewhere else on the floor.

you're absolutely sure that it was not the cold air that made you shiver and that got your nipples hard. you gulp, breathing coming out in soft pants as Natasha's hands gently handled you, cupping your breasts as her lips pressed a trail of kisses on the valley between them. "you're gorgeous, my girl."

"you feel so good," you breathe, subconsciously leaning towards her hands. her thumb pinches your nipple as she suddenly latches on you, slowly sucking on your other breast, giving both of them the same attention. "Natasha."

the way you moaned her name, breathlessly like that coaxed a sound of her own. your fingers tangled on her hair to makeshift a ponytail, so her hair wouldn't get in the way. she released your skin with a pop and claimed your lips, kissing you like she never did before — as if trying to pour all the love she had for you in the kiss. you slowly got a handle of the whole thing. you reached up to take off her bra, and yet she didn't break the kiss. only when you got impatient, whimpering as the ache between your legs became unbearable.

"i need you," you murmur, clearing your throat, lips tingling due the intense kissing. "please, Nat. make me yours."

god, yes. she was never letting you go. not before, and certainly not now.

"i will." she says huskily. she moves, so she's straddling one of your thighs, but not putting her weight on you. "tell me to stop whenever you want to,"

her pointer finger put your panties aside and jeez, that was torturous. you didn't want that fabric there anymore. but she was teasing. but that all flew away from your thoughts when you gasped, her middle and ring finger suddenly entering your hole — thumb lazily rubbing your clitoris, all of that with one hand, her other arm resting next to your head to support her weight on the bed. you instinctively reached out to hold her arm, eyes embarrassingly rolling to the back of your head. being masturbated by someone else was so perfectly good, nothing compared to doing it alone.

"oh, my.." you coo, head falling back against the pillow as your breathing quickly got laboured.

"you like that, detka?" she asks, eyeing you down almost possessively, silently promising herself she would never allow anyone to see you like that, touch you like that ever again. she curls her fingers against your g-spot, making you nod desperately.

"yes, yes yes." you gasp once more, biting on your lip and bucking your hips up towards her hand. she could tell you were getting close, you made it obvious. "don't stop,"

"my, my princess. already gonna cum for me?" she gently teases and increases the pace, doing her best to get through your clenching walls — getting another pleasured moan from you. "that quick?"

"i can't.. can't hold it, Nat," your body suddenly shudders forward, shuddering gasps coming out of your mouth as your juices coat her fingers, as they fuck you through your orgasm. it was nothing new, yet sharing it with her was definitely something else. "fuck, fuck.."

"good job, baby." she carefully pulls your panties down and throw them aside, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "that's it. i'm so proud,"

you just laid there, feeling the whole adrenaline from the new experience, letting yourself be pampered by her kisses and praises.

"hold on," your eyes snap open as she suddenly leaves you on the bed and grab something on the closet. you could've never had imagined she had it before, nor that she'd use it with you, in you, someday. a strap on. "i'm not done with you yet."

what was supposed to make you scared, the size, just got you more excited. watching her put it on was the hottest thing you ever saw, made your heartbeat go to the moon and back. and it was already hammering since the start.

"do you want to back off from this?" she whispers, now sounding genuinely concerned. you shook your head, grabbing onto her shoulders and pulling her closer.

"no, no. i trust you." you weakly confirms and she smiles. she takes one of your legs and presses it against your stomach, knee to your chest, revealing your totally drenched cunt to her. she grabbed your hip with the other hand and positioned herself.

the first inches were just fine, but you could saw it did hurt as much as she pushed inside you. you did your best to suppress your groans, but she saw it hurt. she knew it did. "shhh.. just a little bit more."

her stomach and breasts pressed against yours and she leaned her head down close to your own, pressing her cheek against your cheek, nuzzling gently, giving you all the time you needed to adjust to the size.

you felt so.. complete. filled up, by the woman you trusted the most. your arms wrapped around her shoulders when you got ready. you were so lubricated that it didn't bleed, it was just a discomfort that was soon over. "move."

with the green light, all of Natasha's self-restraint disappeared as her hands held your hips, then she began giving you slow, tiny thrusts. to introduce you to the whole thing — which you quickly became addicted.

moans surely echoed on the room when the feeling registered. it was good. it felt amazing.

"go faster," you plea, holding her body tighter to yours as your hips tried and matched her movements.

"so eager," she hisses and quickens the pace, to a point the headboard was already hitting the wall. her strong arms hold you in place as she fucks the little remains of purity out of you. "all mine now."

the tip of the fake cock brushes deeper each time she pounds into you, as you both discover the depths of your body together, as just as this new way of coming you never experienced before.

the familiar pit in your stomach slowly built tighter and got ready to snap, and she recognized that. her hand slid between your sweaty bodies to stimulate your clit a little bit more, and you were sure you moaned a little too loudly.

"Natasha!" your nails dig into her skin, as a toe curling wave of pleasure washes over you, once again.

"that's it, dorogaya," she nods, slowing down and allowing you to savour the feeling, watching you fall apart. your cum soaked the silicone material of the strap on, and honestly, the wet sounds it made got you a little embarrassed.

you weren't aware of your surroundings anymore, only that Natasha leaned her weight on you and held you close, still inside you. she rolled over to pull you on top of her, and stroked your hair, hearing the little moans you made.

"you're so perfect for me.." she coos, carefully pulling out of you, making you hiss as the material dragged across your extra sensitive walls. "you took me so well, my girl."

"thank you..." you mumble, shifting just to bury your face in the crook of her neck.

Natasha didn't want to talk right now. and she wouldn't. she just pulled the blankets over the two of you, giving you time — to feel, to think, to recompose. she sighed, and a wide smile showed on her face. she was glad you couldn't see it, she looked so giddy, so happy and so proud. she did something right. once.

[lila-lou]

✨Peanut✨

Summary: Stuck in a safe house with Soldier Boy is a test of patience—and nerves. He’s sharp-tongued, cocky, and impossible to ignore, pushing your boundaries just to see you flinch. You try to keep your distance, but he has a way of getting under your skin. You’re supposed to keep him in check, but the real challenge might be keeping yourself together.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, Nickname, Shy!Reader, MENTION!Reader was touched without consent, Ben being as cocky as ever, some kind of fluff i guess

Word Count: 10523 (long ass shit here, lol)

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

The room felt heavy, like the air itself was holding its breath, waiting for him to make the next move. Soldier Boy—Ben, as Butcher had instructed you to call him—sat at the battered wooden table in the middle of the safe house. He was grinding pills into powder with the flat of his knife, muttering to himself, the motion aggressive and precise. Every scrape of the blade against the wood sent shivers down your spine.

You kept your eyes fixed on the television, not really watching whatever rerun was playing. It didn’t matter. Nothing could drown out the weight of his presence. The way he dominated the space even when he wasn’t speaking. Even when he wasn’t looking at you.

You didn’t know why he tolerated you. Out of all the people who’d tried to babysit him since Butcher hauled him out of whatever Russian nightmare he’d been buried in, you were the only one still standing. Maybe it was because you didn’t push him. Or maybe it was because you were too afraid to even try.

Two years ago, your fear of supes had been planted like a landmine in your chest. One night, one supe, one scar across your soul. That was all it took to change you forever. Now, being in the same room as one, especially him, felt like walking barefoot through a minefield. One wrong step, and everything could go to hell. Literally, in his case.

Ben scooped the powder into a neat little line, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smirk. “You don’t have to sit there like a deer in headlights, you know”, he drawled, not looking up. His voice was gravelly, tinged with a roughness that made you want to shrink further into the couch. “Not gonna bite”.

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the edge of the couch cushion. “I’m fine here”, you said quickly, your voice thin and brittle.

“Sure you are”. He leaned back in his chair, his shirt unbuttoned enough to show a glimpse of the skin of his chest. That chest. The one that could, and had, turned entire blocks into ash. He tapped his nose twice before snorting the line with practiced ease, sighing as he leaned back again. “You’re terrible at pretending, you know that?”.

Your breath hitched, and you cursed yourself for it. He noticed everything. “Pretending what?”, you muttered, eyes glued to the TV screen.

“That you’re not scared shitless of me”, he said, his tone almost amused now. “It’s cute. Kind of pathetic, but cute”.

Your stomach twisted. The urge to snap back at him rose like bile, but you shoved it down. Provoking him was the last thing you wanted to do. Instead, you focused on keeping your voice steady. “I’m not scared of you”.

Ben laughed—deep, low, and sharp enough to make you flinch. “Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart”.

You clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms as you tried to keep your breathing even. This was your job. This was what Butcher had asked of you. Watch over him, keep him in line, don’t let him blow anything up. Easier said than done when every fiber of your being was screaming to get the hell out of there.

Ben finally looked at you, his green eyes narrowing slightly. “Relax. I’m not gonna hurt you”. His tone softened—just barely—but it still sent a shiver down your spine. “Not unless you give me a reason to”.

That didn’t exactly inspire confidence, but you nodded anyway, not trusting yourself to speak.

He reached for another pill, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “You know”, he said, his voice quieter now, “it’s exhausting, being treated like a goddamn bomb all the time”.

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, his gaze fixed on the table as he rolled the pill between his fingers. For a moment, he almost seemed… human. Vulnerable.

But you didn’t know what to say. Didn’t trust yourself to say anything. So you just stayed where you were, curled up on the couch, watching him out of the corner of your eye and praying you wouldn’t be the one to set him off.

Ben tossed the pill back, swallowing it dry like it was nothing before reaching for the whiskey bottle on the table. He took a swig, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and stood up. For one fleeting second, you thought he might leave the room, give you some space to breathe. But no—he grabbed a bag of popcorn from the counter, ripped it open with his teeth, and made his way to the couch.

You tensed immediately. There were at least three other places he could sit, but no, he dropped himself right beside you. Not just close—touching. His thigh pressed firmly against yours, the heat of him seeping through the fabric of your jeans like a live wire.

Your body locked up, your heart hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it. You didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe. If he noticed your discomfort—and of course, he did—he didn’t let on. He shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth, his eyes flicking toward the TV screen before turning to you.

“Whatcha watching?”, he asked casually, his voice a little softer now but still holding that rough, unshakable edge.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just… whatever was on”.

He snorted. “Riveting choice”. Another handful of popcorn disappeared into his mouth, and he leaned back, spreading out like he owned the place. Which, let’s face it, he kind of did. Every room he entered felt like it bent to him, like the walls themselves were trying to make room for him and his ego.

As the minutes dragged on, he kept up the small talk. About the shitty popcorn, the weather, the ancient couch springs that squeaked every time one of you shifted. His tone was light, conversational, but his eyes… his eyes were anything but.

He wasn’t looking at the TV anymore. He was watching you. Really watching you. The way your shoulders hunched in on themselves like you were trying to make yourself smaller. The way your hands fidgeted with the hem of your hoodie. The way your legs were pressed tightly together, like you were trying to disappear into the cushions.

“You’re tiny”, he said abruptly, almost thoughtfully, his gaze dragging up and down your frame. “Like, seriously. How are you even a person? You’re what, a buck twenty soaking wet?”.

You stiffened, your face flushing. “I’m… normal-sized”, you mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes.

He chuckled, low and gravelly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Normal? Sweetheart, if I even looked at you wrong, you’d probably snap in half”.

Your stomach churned at the words, at the casual way he said them. Like it wasn’t a threat, just a fact. And maybe it was. He wasn’t wrong—he could break you without even trying. Supe or not, he was built like a goddamn tank, and you… well, you weren’t.

His gaze lingered on you, sharp and appraising, like he was trying to figure you out. “What’re you so scared of, huh?”, he asked, his voice quieter now, but no less dangerous. “You think I’m gonna hurt you?”.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The lump in your throat was too big, your fear too loud.

“Relax, doll”, he said, leaning a little closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “If I wanted to crush you, I wouldn’t need to waste my time sitting here talking to you, now would I?”.

That didn’t make you feel any better. In fact, it made your skin crawl. But you nodded anyway, because what else could you do?

Ben smirked as he leaned back, stretching his arm casually over the back of the couch. He popped another piece of popcorn into his mouth, chewing slowly, his eyes never leaving you.

“So”, he drawled, cocking an eyebrow. “Got a boyfriend, Peanut?”.

The word caught you off guard, and you glanced at him sharply, your confusion momentarily outweighing your fear. “P-Peanut?”, you stammered, the nickname so unexpected it almost made you forget how close he was.

He grinned, his teeth flashing white against his scruffy beard. “Yeah, Peanut. You’re tiny, right? Probably weigh, what, eighty-five? Ninety pounds tops? I could pick you up with one hand, and you’d barely be a snack”. He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling, like he found the whole thing hilarious. “Peanut fits”.

Your face burned with embarrassment, but you didn’t say anything. What could you say? He wasn’t exactly wrong, but hearing it said out loud—especially by him—made you feel smaller than ever. You tucked your legs up under you, trying to create some kind of barrier between his imposing presence and your body.

“C’mon”, he said, his voice lighter now, teasing almost. “You seriously don’t have some guy waiting around for you? Someone to take care of you? Feels like you’d need a bodyguard just to make it through the grocery store”.

You shook your head, your voice barely audible. “No boyfriend”.

He tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. “Huh. Surprising. A thing like you? I’d think guys would be lining up”.

His words weren’t comforting. They weren’t meant to be. They carried an undertone that made your stomach twist, a reminder of how easily he could take you if he wanted to. You shifted uncomfortably, pulling your hoodie tighter around yourself like it could somehow shield you from the heat of his gaze.

“What’s the matter, Peanut?”, he asked. “I’m just making conversation. You don’t have to look so freaked out all the time”.

“I’m not freaked out”, you lied, your voice trembling just enough to betray you.

He snorted, clearly not buying it. “Sure you’re not”. He leaned forward suddenly, resting his elbows on his knees, bringing himself closer to you. The smell of whiskey and faint cigar smoke clung to him, mingling with something sharper, something distinctly him.

“I’m not gonna hurt you. Told you already, didn’t I?”.

You nodded again, but the tension in your body didn’t ease. If anything, it grew worse as his eyes traveled over you again, lingering in ways that made you want to sink into the couch and disappear.

“Man”, he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re wound up tighter than a fucking spring”. He reached for the popcorn bag again, the casual motion a stark contrast to the intensity of his words. “I don’t know what the hell Butcher was thinking, sticking me with you. You’re not exactly intimidating”.

You bristled at that, a tiny flicker of indignation breaking through your fear. “I wasn’t supposed to intimidate you”, you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just… here to keep an eye on you”.

He laughed—loud and abrupt, the sound startling in the otherwise quiet room. “You’re supposed to keep an eye on me?”. He leaned back again, throwing one arm across the back of the couch again and grinning down at you like he’d just heard the best joke of his life. “Fuck. That’s rich”.

You didn’t respond, biting your lip to keep the words locked in. You couldn’t afford to snap, couldn’t afford to give him a reason to escalate. Not with how close he was. Not with how easily he could overpower you.

Ben’s laugh faded into a low hum, almost as if he were talking to himself, but the words were loud enough to reach you. “You know”, he muttered, swirling the last of the whiskey in the bottle before setting it on the floor, “I could help you relax. You’re all wound up like a little bird that flew into the wrong fucking cage”.

The comment made your stomach tighten, your pulse spiking as you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. His gaze wasn’t on the TV. It wasn’t even on the popcorn anymore. It was on you. Slowly, deliberately, like he was working through some kind of internal checklist, his eyes dragged from your face, to your neck, to the way your hoodie hugged your body.

“Yeah”, he said, his voice dropping lower, rougher.

“I’d probably crush you. Tiny little thing like you. But…”. He leaned his head back against the couch, as though considering something deeply. “I could figure it out. Work on my self-restraint”. He exhaled sharply through his nose, almost like a laugh, but it didn’t carry any humor. “Not sure you’d survive, though”.

Your throat went dry, and your mind raced for something—anything—to say to steer the conversation somewhere less terrifying. But the words wouldn’t come. It was like your brain had shut down entirely, overwhelmed by the weight of his presence and the dark, unsettling undertone to his words.

“I mean, shit”, he went on, almost lazily, like he was just idly musing. “It’d be a tight fit, no doubt about that. But I’d manage”. He turned his head toward you, one eyebrow quirking as though he was waiting for some kind of reaction. “What d’you think, Peanut? Think you could handle me?”.

Your heart felt like it might explode. You shifted slightly, trying to put even an inch of space between you, but the couch offered no escape. He noticed, of course he noticed, and the smirk on his face only widened.

“Relax”, he said again, though this time it sounded more like a command than a suggestion. “I’m just messing with you”. He leaned back again, popping another piece of popcorn into his mouth like the last thirty seconds hadn’t just happened.

But the tension in the air didn’t dissipate. His words lingered, sinking into your mind like oil, staining everything. You didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe too loudly, your entire body coiled as tightly as a spring.

Ben glanced at you again, his expression unreadable now, the grin gone. “You really gotta lighten up, Peanut”, he said, almost absently. “You’re making me feel like a fucking monster”.

You wanted to tell him he wasn’t making it easy. That his very presence was suffocating. That every word out of his mouth only fed the gnawing pit of fear in your stomach. But you couldn’t. So you stayed silent, staring at the TV and praying that he’d get bored soon. That the night would end without him pushing any further.

Ben shifted slightly on the couch, the springs groaning under his weight. He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling as if lost in thought, but you could feel his attention still anchored on you, heavy and unrelenting.

“You know”, he started, his voice low and casual, “I heard Butcher and that cum-guzzler talking about you”. He popped another piece of popcorn into his mouth, chewing slowly as though giving himself time to savor the words that would follow. “Something about why you’re so jumpy around supes”.

Your heart clenched, and you went rigid. You hadn’t realized Butcher had told him—why would he? What purpose would it serve, giving Soldier Boy ammunition? You glanced at him sharply, trying to gauge his intentions, but his expression was frustratingly neutral, save for the slight quirk of a smirk playing on his lips.

He chuckled, low and gravelly, shaking his head. “Can’t say I blame you”, he continued. “Sounds like you had a real shitty time of it. Some asshole supe gets a little too handsy, decides he’s owed something just because he’s got powers. That about right?”.

The knot in your stomach tightened, but you didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your throat felt like it was closing, the weight of his words pulling every horrible memory to the surface.

Ben didn’t seem to need a response. He let out a long breath, his smirk fading as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees again. “Here’s the thing, Peanut”, he said, his tone quieter now, almost contemplative. “Guys like that… they give the rest of us a bad name. Not that I give a shit about my reputation, but, you know, principle and all that”.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Why… why are you bringing this up?”.

He shrugged, the motion casual, but the intensity in his eyes betrayed him. “Just thinking out loud. If that’s the only experience you’ve got with supes… well, no wonder you’re scared shitless. That’s the memory you’re stuck with”. His gaze slid to you, sharp and probing. “But maybe I could fix that”.

“Fix it?”, you echoed, your voice trembling. “What… what does that mean?”.

He smirked again, leaning back and stretching his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing just a hair’s breadth away from your shoulder. “I’m just saying”, he drawled, “maybe if you had a different kind of experience, you wouldn’t be so fucking scared all the time. Replace that shitty memory with a fucking awesome one”.

The implication in his words was crystal clear, and your stomach churned violently. Your fingers curled into the fabric of your hoodie, your nails digging into your palms. “That’s not…”. You trailed off, your voice barely above a whisper. “That’s not how it works”.

He tilted his head, studying you with a mixture of amusement and something darker. “You sure about that? Sometimes all it takes is one good memory to wipe out the bad. One moment to make you forget the rest of the bullshit”.

You shook your head, your pulse hammering in your ears. “I don’t think—”.

“Calm down, Peanut”, he interrupted, his voice dropping into that low, commanding tone again. “I’m not saying I’d do anything. Unless, you know, you wanted me to”.

Your breath hitched, and you pressed yourself further into the couch, as if the cushions could somehow swallow you whole. His gaze was piercing, unrelenting, and you could feel the weight of his words pressing down on you, suffocating.

“But hey”, he continued after a moment, his tone lightening again as he grabbed another handful of popcorn. “It’s your call. I’m just saying… I could make it worth your while”.

You didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. Your mind was racing, your body frozen in place.

The safe house was quiet except for the distant hum of the water running in the bathroom. Ben was in the shower, and you were stuck on the couch, your nerves coiled tighter than ever. It had been weeks since that first night, weeks of this strange, unbearable dance between the two of you. He hadn’t pushed things too far, but he hadn’t stopped either. The teasing, the lingering touches, the weight of his gaze—it was constant, suffocating, impossible to ignore.

And now, as you sat there waiting for him, you hated yourself for the stupid summer dress you’d chosen to wear. It was hot, unbearably so, and the safe house didn’t have air conditioning. The dress had seemed like a practical choice at the time—lightweight, easy to move in—but now it felt like a mistake. The fabric clung to your skin and you couldn’t help but feel exposed. Vulnerable.

You shifted uncomfortably, pulling the dress down as far as it would go and wrapping your arms around yourself. It didn’t help. The room felt stifling, and the faint sound of the shower only added to the tension. You couldn’t stop your mind from wandering, couldn’t stop the little voice whispering in the back of your head: What’s he going to say this time? What’s he going to do?

The shower shut off, and your breath caught. You stared at the TV, not really seeing it, your heart pounding as you heard the sound of the bathroom door creaking open.

Moments later, Ben emerged, a towel slung low around his hips and his hair damp, water droplets trailing down his chest. He was a vision of raw power and confidence, and he knew it. The smirk tugging at his lips told you as much.

“Hey, Peanut”, he said casually, like this was the most normal thing in the world. He grabbed a second towel and ran it through his hair, his muscles flexing with the motion. “Didn’t think I’d keep you waiting, did you?”.

You swallowed hard, your eyes darting back to the TV. “I wasn’t—”, you started, but your voice faltered. “I mean, I’m fine”.

“Sure you are”, he said, chuckling under his breath. He crossed the room, tossing the towel onto a chair as he made his way to the couch. You felt his presence before you saw him, the heat of him, the sheer weight of him, as he sat down beside you. Close. Too close. Again.

His eyes flicked to your dress, lingering for just a moment before he leaned back, draping his arm over the back of the couch. “Nice dress”, he commented, his tone light but his gaze sharp. “Didn’t know we were getting all dressed up today”.

Your face burned, and you tugged at the hem again, wishing it were longer. “It’s just… it’s hot”, you muttered, refusing to meet his eyes.

“That it is”, he agreed, his smirk widening. “But you didn’t have to go all out for me, Peanut. A little effort goes a long way, though, so… thanks”.

You clenched your jaw, your hands twisting the fabric of the dress in your lap. “I didn’t—”.

“I’m just messing with you. Don’t get so wound up”, his voice dropping into that familiar, teasing drawl.

You wanted to snap back, wanted to tell him to knock it off, but you couldn’t. You just sat there, frozen, your heart pounding as he shifted slightly closer, the edge of his thigh brushing against yours.

The problem wasn’t just that you were afraid of Ben anymore—though that fear was still there, lurking beneath every breath, every glance, every word. The problem was that, over the past few weeks, something else had crept in, something worse.

Attraction.

You hated yourself for it. Hated the way your pulse quickened when he smirked at you, the way your thoughts lingered on his voice, deep and rough like gravel underfoot. And now, as you sat beside him, that stupid towel slung so dangerously low on his hips, it was taking everything you had to keep your eyes on the TV.

But you failed. Of course, you did. Your gaze flicked toward him out of the corner of your eye, drawn like a moth to a flame. The towel clung to his hips precariously, the line of dark hair below his navel trailing downward, disappearing beneath the fabric. And lower—your breath hitched—the outline of him was visible, faint but undeniable.

You quickly looked away, your cheeks burning, your heart hammering in your chest. What the hell is wrong with me? you thought, biting the inside of your cheek so hard it almost hurt. This was Soldier Boy. Ben. The same man who teased you relentlessly, who could crush you without a second thought. A damn supe. And yet…

“You’re quiet, Peanut”, he said suddenly, his voice breaking through your frantic thoughts. His tone was casual, but you knew better than to believe it wasn’t deliberate. He always knew how to needle you just enough to get under your skin. “I mean, you’re always quiet, but today? What’s the deal?”.

You didn’t respond, your throat too dry to form a coherent excuse. You tried to keep your eyes locked on the TV, pretending to focus on the images flickering across the screen. But you could feel him watching you, the heat of his gaze sliding over your profile, lingering far too long for comfort.

“C’mon”, he pressed, his voice dropping an octave, rich and deep enough to make your stomach do an unwelcome flip. “You’re the only action I’ve got in this shithole they’re hiding me in. Least you could do is talk to me. I’m bored as hell over here”.

Your hands twisted in your lap, gripping the fabric of your dress like it was the only thing anchoring you to reality. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, not with the way his words made your skin flush and your heart pound.

“I don’t know what to say”, you mumbled finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ben leaned back against the couch, his towel shifting just slightly. “You don’t have to say much, Peanut”, he drawled, his smirk audible in his tone. “Just give me something. Anything. Hell, even a complaint about how much you hate being stuck with me. I know you’ve got those”.

You glanced at him for just a split second, and that was your mistake. He was sprawled out, all lazy confidence, the towel still clinging low on his hips, the light from the TV casting faint shadows over his chest. The sight made your stomach twist, and you quickly looked away again, your cheeks burning.

“I don’t hate you”, you blurted out, immediately regretting it.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Don’t you now?”. His smirk deepened, and he leaned in just slightly, the arm draped over the back of the couch brushing your shoulder. “Could’ve fooled me with the way you can’t even look at me half the time”.

You swallowed hard, your fingers knotting into the hem of your dress. “I just…”, you stammered, unsure how to explain without giving away too much. “You make me nervous”.

Ben tilted his head, his smirk softening into something almost curious. “Nervous, huh?”, he repeated, his voice quieter now, like he was mulling over the word. “Why? You still think I’m gonna hurt you?”.

“No”, you said quickly, though the fear still lingered at the edges of your mind. “It’s not that”.

“Then what?”, he asked, his tone deceptively gentle, but his gaze was sharp, unrelenting. “What is it about me that’s got you so wound up?”.

You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Your silence only seemed to amuse him further. He let out a low chuckle, leaning back again, his fingers lightly drumming against the armrest.

“Shit, Peanut”, he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re like a puzzle I can’t quite figure out. Makes me want to push, see how far you’ll bend before you break”.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but you forced yourself to keep your breathing steady, to keep your focus anywhere but on him. You didn’t know how much longer you could keep this up, this fragile pretense of calm, but you knew one thing for sure: he wasn’t going to let this go. Not tonight.

The tension in the room was suffocating, and you couldn’t take it anymore. Your hands trembled as you placed them on your thighs, pushing yourself up from the couch. “I… I need some water”, you mumbled, not daring to look at him. You didn’t wait for his response—if he even had one—and walked quickly toward the little kitchen tucked into the corner of the safe house.

Your footsteps felt too loud against the worn wooden floor, the tiny kitchen offering no real reprieve from his presence. You grabbed a glass from the cupboard, your fingers trembling slightly as you filled it from the tap. You told yourself the sound of running water would drown out the pounding of your heart, but it didn’t.

The quiet click of his footsteps behind you made you freeze.

“Thirsty, huh?”, Ben’s voice came from far too close, his tone casual but laced with that ever-present teasing edge. He was right behind you now—you could feel him, his heat radiating like a furnace, the space between you barely a breath.

“I just needed some space”, you said, your voice quiet and shaky, gripping the glass like it was a lifeline.

“Space?”, he echoed, like the word was foreign to him. You heard him shift, his hand brushing lightly against the counter as he leaned against it. “Still can’t handle being near me?”.

You froze, the glass trembling slightly in your hands as you felt him step even closer. His body was right behind yours now, close enough that you could feel the faint brush of his chest against your back every time you shifted.

“You look really pretty today”, he murmured, his voice softer now, quieter, but no less unsettling. His words sent a shiver racing down your spine, and you gripped the glass tighter, your knuckles turning white.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against your hair, playing with a loose strand like it was the most natural thing in the world. The movement was slow, deliberate, as if he were testing your reaction.

“Didn’t think a little dress like that could make someone so…”. He trailed off, his fingers gently tucking the strand behind your ear from behind, his touch warm against your skin. “Sweet. You do surprise me, Peanut”.

Your heart pounded, your breath catching in your throat. “Ben, please…”, you whispered, barely able to get the words out. You didn’t know what you were asking for—for him to stop, to step back, to leave you alone—but your voice carried the weight of your unease.

“Oh c'mon now”, he murmured, his tone dipping into that low, velvety register that always made your stomach twist. “I’m just saying you look nice. No harm in that, right?”.

His hand lingered for a moment longer, brushing lightly against your shoulder, before he stepped back just enough to give you a fraction of space. But it didn’t feel like enough. The air around you still felt heavy, charged with his presence.

“You don’t take compliments well, do you?”, he asked, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice as he leaned casually against the counter. “What’s so scary about me telling you you’re pretty?”.

“Nothing”, you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ben’s gaze dropped, shamelessly traveling down your body. You could feel it, the weight of his eyes lingering on your legs. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips, and you caught the faint movement out of the corner of your eye. It sent a fresh wave of heat through your face, your stomach twisting into knots.

“You know”, he murmured, his voice low and teasing, almost contemplative, “it’s been quite a while for me.” He leaned a little closer, his arm brushing lightly against yours as he rested it on the counter beside you. “And with you here, looking like that, acting all shy and innocent…”.

He trailed off, his smirk widening as his gaze dragged back up to meet yours. “It’s really hard for me, Peanut”.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and your breath caught in your throat. Your grip tightened on the edge of the counter, your knuckles white as you fought to keep yourself grounded. “Ben, stop”, you said softly, your voice barely audible, but there was a tremble in it you couldn’t hide.

“Stop what?”, he asked innocently, though the glint in his eyes betrayed him. He wasn’t innocent, not even close. “I’m just being honest. You don’t want me to lie, do you?”.

You turned your head to look at him, your heart pounding as you met his gaze. His smirk was maddening, equal parts charming and infuriating, and the way he was looking at you—like he was sizing you up, deciding just how far he could push—made your pulse race for all the wrong reasons.

“I’m not… I’m not doing anything”, you stammered, your words tumbling over themselves. “I’m just—”.

“Just standing there, looking all sweet and pretty”, he interrupted, his tone playful. He straightened slightly, his height and presence towering over you as he leaned a little closer. “You have no idea, do you? How hard you make it for me to keep my hands to myself?”.

Your breath hitched, and you stepped back instinctively, the counter digging into your lower back as you put as much distance between you as you could in the small space. But he didn’t move closer—he just stayed there, watching you, his smirk softening into something almost… curious.

Ben’s smirk deepened as he watched you, his eyes narrowing slightly, like he was peeling back every layer of your defenses. “You know”, he murmured, his voice soft but still carrying that teasing edge, “I think you actually like me, Peanut”.

Your eyes widened at his words, and you shook your head quickly, your back pressing harder against the counter. “That’s not true”, you said, your voice trembling with the effort to sound convincing.

But he didn’t seem fazed. If anything, your reaction only amused him more. His hand darted out, slow and deliberate, resting gently on your hip. It wasn’t forceful, wasn’t threatening—it was almost careful, like he was testing the waters, giving you a chance to stop him.

Your breath hitched, and your body tensed under his touch. The heat of his palm burned through the thin fabric of your dress, the weight of his hand grounding you and overwhelming you all at once.

“You’re not pushing me away”, he said softly, his voice dropping lower, more intimate. His fingers flexed slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you he was there. “That’s gotta count for something”.

You opened your mouth to say something, to deny it, to tell him he was wrong, but no words came out. You were frozen, caught in the weight of his gaze, the closeness of him, the way his presence consumed every inch of space around you.

His other hand came up slowly, brushing against a strand of hair that had fallen into your face. He tucked it behind your ear, his touch featherlight, his green eyes locking onto yours. “You keep telling yourself you’re scared of me”, he murmured, his tone quiet, almost tender. “But I think you’re scared of something else”.

“Ben, I…”. Your voice cracked, and you trailed off, your hands clutching the edge of the counter like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

“Shh”, he whispered, his hand on your hip shifting just slightly, his thumb brushing against the curve of your waist. “You don’t have to say anything, Peanut. Not if you don’t want to”.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your uneven breathing, the faint hum of the refrigerator in the corner. His touch wasn’t rough or demanding, but it was firm, grounding, impossible to ignore.

And then, slowly, he leaned in, his face close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. “Just… Push me away if you want me to stop. Promise I won´t be mad”, he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his lips so close to yours you could feel the ghost of their presence.

Your heart pounded, your mind racing with conflicting emotions—fear, confusion, and something far more dangerous bubbling beneath the surface. You hated how much you craved his attention, hated how much his touch made your body betray you. But even as you stood there, frozen, his words echoed in your mind: Push me away.

Would you? Could you?

The choice was yours.

Bot you didn’t push him away. You stayed still, your breath hitching as Ben’s smirk deepened. He took your silence as permission—or maybe just a challenge he was eager to win.

Without a word, his hands slid more firmly around your waist. Before you could even process what was happening, he lifted you effortlessly, like you weighed nothing. The glass of water slipped from your fingers, landing with a dull clink on the counter as he set you down atop it. The cool surface against the back of your thighs made you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from him.

He stepped closer, pressing himself between your legs, his movements deliberate and unyielding. Your legs opened instinctively to accommodate him, the fabric of your dress sliding up as you shifted. The hem bunched high on your thighs, and your stomach dropped when you realized how exposed you were. The little triangle of fabric between your legs was on full display, and Ben’s gaze dropped to it immediately, his lips curling into a wolfish grin.

“Well, would you look at that”, he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, the faintest edge of amusement making it all the more dangerous. His hands trailed down to your knees, his thumbs brushing against the inside of your thighs, sending a shock of warmth through your body. “Peanut, you’ve been holding out on me”.

You squirmed, your hands gripping the edge of the counter as if it could anchor you against the storm of his presence. “Ben…”, you whispered, your voice trembling, unsure if it was a plea for him to stop or to keep going.

“Shh”, he said softly, his hands sliding higher, spreading your legs further apart. “I told you, I’m not gonna hurt you”.

But the way he looked at you—the hunger in his eyes, the possessive way his hands claimed your body—made your pulse race for entirely different reasons. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your neck as he pressed his hips against yours, his body firm and unyielding.

“You have no idea”, he whispered, his voice rough and thick with desire. “No idea how hard it’s been. Watching you, waiting for you to stop running, stop hiding. But now…”. His lips brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Now I’ve got you right where I want you”.

Your heart pounded, your mind spinning as his hands continued their slow, deliberate exploration of your body. You hated how your body reacted to him, how the heat pooled low in your belly, how your breathing quickened despite yourself. Hated how much you wanted him, even when you knew you shouldn’t.

And Ben—he knew it, too. You could see it in his smirk, in the way his eyes burned with triumph. He was in control, and he knew it. You wanted him, and that he sure knew too.

Ben’s smirk deepened as his hands slid higher, his thumbs brushing teasingly against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. His touch was firm but not rough, as if he were savoring every moment. He leaned back slightly to get a better look, his eyes darkening as they locked onto the little triangle of fabric barely covering you.

“You know”, he murmured, his voice low and full of heat, “I’ve been imagining this for weeks. But it’s even better than I thought”.

You opened your mouth to respond—to say something—but the words caught in your throat once more as he hooked a finger under the fabric. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, a wicked gleam in his green eyes as he gave you - again - just enough time to stop him.

But you didn’t.

With a sharp, controlled movement, he ripped the delicate material apart, the sound of tearing fabric echoing in the quiet kitchen. The force of it sent a jolt through your body, but it didn’t hurt. It was more of a shock—both from the action itself and the way his eyes devoured the sight before him.

Your breath hitched as the ruined panties fell away, leaving you bare to him. His hands stilled for a moment, his gaze fixated on your glistening, perfectly shaven lips. A low growl rumbled in his throat, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on your thighs.

”Fuck peanut”, he muttered, his voice rough with desire. “Look at you”.

Ben’s grip on your thighs tightened as his eyes darkened, roaming over every inch of you like you were something he was about to own. He let out a low, gravelly chuckle, shaking his head with that familiar smirk—cocky and unapologetically lewd.

“Is this what chicks are doing these days? All shaved, all fucking spotless?”. His thumb traced lazily along your inner thigh, teasing just close enough to make you squirm. “In the ’80s, everyone had a damn jungle down here. Didn’t matter who you were, movie star or some chick at a dive bar—hair everywhere. But this?”.

His thumb slid lower, brushing over the seam of your closed, glistening lips. The slickness made his touch effortless, his rough hands stark against your softness. “This is a whole fucking upgrade”, he murmured, almost to himself, his tone filthy and raw. “Smooth as hell… fuck Peanut, you’re like a fucking dream”.

Ben’s eyes stayed glued between your legs, completely enthralled, like he was witnessing something unreal. The pad of his thumb pressed further, parting your slick lips with almost lazy confidence. He slid it down to your entrance, where he paused, testing the way your body reacted to him.

“Fuck me”, he muttered under his breath, his voice gravelly and thick with lust. “You’re soaked, Peanut. Look at this. Look at you”.

Your breath hitched audibly, your chest rising and falling as his thumb pressed lightly against your entrance, his other hand tightening its grip on your thigh to keep you exactly where he wanted you. His touch was slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the moment.

“You’re fucking perfect”, he murmured, half to himself.

Ben’s thumb dipped just barely inside you, and the moment he felt how tight you were, he froze. His breath hitched, a low, guttural groan escaping his lips as he pulled his hand back. His grip on your thigh tightened, grounding himself as he muttered under his breath, “No fucking way. Not with my fingers. I’m not wasting this on anything but my dick”.

His green eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with a dark hunger that sent a shiver racing down your spine. He took a deep breath, his smirk returning as he dragged his hands up the outside of your thighs, pushing the fabric of your dress higher as he went.

“You’re something else, Peanut”, he growled, his voice thick and unapologetically filthy. “This body, this tight little hole… it’s all mine”.

He grabbed the hem of your dress, tugging it upward with slow, deliberate movements, giving you every chance to stop him. But you didn’t. Instead, you lifted your arms instinctively, your breath catching in your throat as you helped him pull the dress over your head. The fabric slipped away easily, pooling on the floor beside the counter, leaving you bare except for your trembling body beneath his gaze.

Ben stepped back slightly, just enough to take you in, his eyes roaming over every inch of your exposed skin with raw, unfiltered desire. He let out a low whistle, his lips curving into a grin that was both predatory and approving.

“You’re even better than I imagined”. His hands moved back to your waist, firm and possessive as he pulled you closer to the edge of the counter, positioning you exactly where he wanted you.

“You don’t even realize, do you?”, he muttered, his hands trailing over your hips, your stomach, your thighs, like he couldn’t get enough of touching you. “How fucking perfect you are. How fucking lucky I am”.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he growled, “I told you, Peanut. You’re mine now. Every inch of you”.

With one swift motion, Ben pulled the towel from his hips and tossed it carelessly to the side, revealing himself fully. Your eyes widened the moment you saw him—huge, heavy, and impossibly intimidating. A gasp escaped your lips before you could stop it, and you instinctively pressed your hands against his chest, trying to push him away.

But he didn’t budge.

Your heart raced, panic and uncertainty flooding your senses. You weren’t a virgin, but this… this was different. The sheer size of him made your stomach twist with both fear and something else you didn’t want to name.

“Whoa there, Peanut”, Ben murmured, his voice low and teasing, but there was a glint of smug satisfaction in his eyes as he glanced down at himself, then back at you. “Scared already? Thought you said you weren’t afraid of me”.

“I just…”, you stammered, your palms pressing harder against his chest, but he didn’t move. He stood there, unyielding, his muscles firm under your touch as he watched you with that same maddening smirk.

“Relax”, he said again, his tone dipping into that familiar mix of amusement and raw lust.

Your voice came out in a shaky whisper, your eyes wide and fixed on him. “This… this won’t fit. No way”.

Ben’s smirk deepened, the gleam in his eyes turning even more smug, like your fear only fed his ego. He let out a low chuckle, his broad chest rumbling under your trembling hands. “Won’t fit, huh?”, he repeated, his tone dripping with amusement. “You really think I’d let that stop me?”.

Your breath hitched, your fingers curling slightly against his chest as you tried to pull back, but his hands on your hips held you firmly in place. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. “Don’t sell yourself short, Peanut. You’ll take it. You just need a little… encouragement”.

Your stomach twisted at his words, a mix of fear and heat flooding your senses. “Ben, I—”, you started, but he cut you off, his hands sliding slowly up your sides, strong and possessive.

“I’ll make it fit”, he murmured, his voice low and dripping with confidence.

One of his hands moved between your bodies, and your breath hitched as he grabbed himself, his cock heavy and intimidating in his hand. His green eyes flicked up to yours briefly, watching your reaction.

“Just.. relax, Peanut”, he said softly, almost mockingly, as he positioned himself. “This is gonna feel real good. Trust me”.

You bit your lip hard as you felt the tip of him slide through your slick lips, the slow, deliberate motion making your body jolt with unexpected pleasure. The contrast of his roughness and your softness was overwhelming, your hips twitching instinctively as his thick head dragged against you.

“Fuck”, he muttered under his breath, his eyes locked on where your bodies touched. “You’re already soaking for me. You feel that, Peanut? That’s your body telling you it wants this. Wants me”.

A shaky whimper escaped your lips, and you hated yourself for the sound, for how much you wanted him. The warmth, the pressure, the way he moved—it was too much, too intense, too consuming.

Ben chuckled, his thumb brushing over your thigh as he kept guiding himself against you, letting his tip tease your entrance but not pushing in just yet. “Look at you”, he muttered. “Already whining, and I haven’t even given you the real thing yet”.

You bit your lip harder, trying to stifle another whimper. His free hand slid up your side, gripping your waist possessively as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Don’t hold back now, Peanut", he growled. “I want to hear every little sound you make. Wanna know how much you’re feeling this”.

The heat pooling low in your belly was unbearable, your body trembling as he continued his slow, torturous motions. He wasn’t even inside you yet, but the weight of him was enough to leave you breathless.

Ben’s cocky smirk softened just slightly as he began to nudge himself inside you, his movements surprisingly slow and deliberate. He pressed forward an inch at a time, giving you room to adjust to his size. His hands gripped your hips firmly, keeping you steady as he worked himself in, his gaze locked on your face.

“Fuck, Peanut”, he muttered under his breath, the usual arrogance in his tone giving way to something deeper, rougher. “Tight as hell. I knew you’d feel good, but this? Fuck”.

You winced at the stretch, your body instinctively tensing around him as he pushed in further. The sensation was intense, overwhelming, and you couldn’t help the soft whimper that escaped your lips.

“Shh”, he murmured, his voice low and almost soothing as he paused, letting you adjust. “I know, baby. It’s a lot. But you’re doing good. So fucking good”.

Your hands gripped his forearms, your nails digging into his skin as he slid another inch deeper, the burn of the stretch making you gasp. “Ben”, you whispered, your voice trembling, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

“I’ve got you”, he said, his voice steady and firm, his thumbs rubbing small circles against your skin in a rare gesture of comfort. “You’ll get used to it. Just breathe”.

You tried to focus on his words, on the way he moved so slowly, giving you time to adjust to every inch of him. The stretch was still intense, still bordering on too much, but as he eased in further, your body began to relax, the pain giving way to a different kind of pressure.

“That’s it”, he murmured, his lips quirking into a small smirk as he watched you. “See? I told you you’d take it, Peanut”.

You couldn’t form a response, your breath hitching again as he pushed in another inch. He groaned softly, his head falling forward briefly, his self-control evident in the way his muscles tensed under your touch.

Your body trembled, the overwhelming fullness leaving you unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. He stayed still, his hands firm on your hips, his gaze softening just slightly as he gave you a moment to adjust.

“You’re doing so good, Peanut”, he said, his voice low and almost gentle, though the hunger in his eyes hadn’t faded. “Just a little more, and then I’ll make you feel real fucking good. I promise”.

Ben pushed in further, inch by inch, until he finally bottomed out, his hips pressing flush against yours. The sheer fullness, the stretch, was almost too much, and a breathless moan escaped your lips, mixed with a high-pitched whine that you couldn’t suppress. The sound seemed to drive him wild.

“Fuck”, Ben groaned, his head dropping forward to rest against your collarbone as his hands tightened on your hips. His breathing was ragged, and his entire body seemed to tense as he fought to keep himself in check. “You feel… Fuck, Peanut. You’re so fucking tight”.

You trembled under him, your hands instinctively clutching his broad shoulders as you tried to adjust to the overwhelming sensation of him filling you completely. He was so big, stretching you to your limits, and every inch of him pressed against places you didn’t even know could feel like this.

“Ben”, you whispered, your voice shaky, unsure if you were pleading for him to move or to give you more time to adjust.

“I know, baby”, he muttered, his voice gravelly and low, muffled against your skin. “I know. Just… fuck, just give me a second”. He groaned again, a deep, primal sound that vibrated through your chest, his hands gripping your waist like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“You’re perfect”, he murmured, lifting his head slightly to press his forehead against yours. His green eyes burned into yours, dark with lust and something deeper, something almost reverent. “Fucking perfect. You don’t even know what you’re doing to me”.

You let out a shaky breath, your body slowly relaxing more around him as he stayed still, letting you adjust to the fullness. His hands moved to cradle your thighs, spreading you wider as he groaned softly again, his lips brushing against your jawline.

“Breathe, Peanut”, he said, his voice softening for a moment as his thumbs rubbed gentle circles into your skin. “Just breathe. You’re taking me so damn well”.

The praise sent a rush of warmth through your body, making you shiver against him. Slowly, he began to pull back just an inch, testing, watching your reaction with sharp, hungry eyes. The drag of him against your sensitive walls made your breath hitch, and his smirk returned as he groaned again.

“Yeah”, he growled, his voice thick as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re gonna love this, Peanut. I’ll make sure of it”.

Ben groaned deeply as he began to move, the drag of his length against your tight walls slow and deliberate. He pulled back just enough to make you feel every inch before sinking back in, his hips pressing flush against yours once more. The stretch still made you wince, but the intensity of the sensation was quickly mingling with something warmer, something almost unbearable.

“Shit”, he muttered against your collarbone, his breath hot and ragged. His lips grazed your skin, his teeth scraping lightly as he fought to keep his pace measured. “You’re squeezing me so damn tight. Like you were fucking made for me”.

A breathless whimper escaped you as he thrust again, a little deeper, a little harder. The fullness was still overwhelming, but with every slow, calculated movement, your body started to adjust, to mold to him. Your nails dug into his shoulders, and he smirked against your skin, clearly enjoying the way you clung to him.

Ben’s thrusts grew harder, his hips snapping into yours with more purpose, more force. The sound of your bodies meeting filled the room, raw and intimate, but you bit your lip, desperate to keep quiet.

But Ben noticed. Of course, he noticed.

“Peanut”, he growled, his voice low and commanding, roughened by pleasure. He angled his hips just slightly, hitting a spot that made your back arch involuntarily. “Don’t you fucking hold back on me”.

A soft whimper escaped you, and his smirk returned, wicked and dangerous. “That’s more like it”, he muttered, his hands gripping your hips even tighter as he thrust again, harder this time. “I want to hear you. Every. Fucking. Sound”.

You clenched your teeth, your nails digging harder into his shoulders as you fought to keep quiet, but it was no use. His pace was relentless now, each movement deliberate, dragging pleasure and desperation out of you with every stroke.

“C’mon, baby”, he murmured, leaning in close, his lips brushing against your ear. “Don’t be shy. I want to hear how much you love this. Want to hear you beg me for more”.

You shook your head weakly, trying to resist, but when he thrust again, deeper than before, a moan slipped past your lips, raw and unrestrained. Ben groaned in response, the sound rough and guttural as he rocked into you harder.

“Fuck, that’s it”, he growled, his teeth scraping against your neck as he buried himself to the hilt again. “That’s the sound I’ve been waiting for. Knew you couldn’t stay quiet forever”.

Your breath hitched as he moved faster, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. His hands moved up to grip your waist, holding you steady as he claimed every inch of you, his lips grazing your skin as he spoke again.

“You feel that?”, he muttered, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Feel how perfectly you’re taking me? That tight little body of yours was made for this, Peanut. Made for me”.

You couldn’t hold back anymore, your soft moans turning into desperate whimpers as he pushed you further and further. His words, his touch, the sheer intensity of him—it was too much, too overwhelming. And Ben—he soaked in every sound, every tremble, every gasp, his grin widening as he kept driving into you like he couldn’t get enough.

“That’s my girl”, he murmured, his hands sliding up to cup your face as his eyes locked onto yours. “Now stop holding back and let me hear it all”.

Ben could feel it—the way your body tightened around him, your walls fluttering as you approached the edge. His pace didn’t falter; if anything, it became sharper, more deliberate, each thrust angled perfectly to drive you closer to unraveling completely.

“You’re close, aren’t you, Peanut?”, he murmured. “I can feel it. You’re squeezing me like you don’t wanna let go”.

You whimpered, your nails raking against his shoulders as the pressure in your core built to an unbearable intensity. Your head fell back, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps, but Ben wasn’t about to let you hide from him.

“Uh-uh”, he said sharply, his hands gripping your hips harder as he slowed his thrusts just enough to regain your attention. “Don’t you fucking look away”.

Your eyes fluttered open, your gaze hazy and unfocused as you tried to meet his. His green eyes burned with intensity, dark with hunger and something possessive that made your stomach twist. He leaned in, his forehead pressing against yours, his movements deliberate and unyielding as he pushed you closer and closer.

“When you come”, he growled, his voice rough and commanding, “you look at me, Peanut. Got it?”.

You nodded weakly, unable to form words, your body trembling as you teetered on the edge. He thrust harder, deeper, his rhythm relentless now, each motion pulling soft cries from your lips that you couldn’t control.

“That’s it”, he muttered, his gaze locked on yours, unyielding. “That’s my girl. Let me see it. Let me see you fall apart for me”.

The final thrust sent you over the edge, your body clenching tightly around him as your release crashed through you. Your eyes locked onto his, your vision blurring with the intensity of it, and Ben groaned deeply, the sound rough and raw as he watched every second of your undoing.

“Fuck, Peanut”, he muttered, his voice strained as your walls gripped him like a vice. “You’re so fucking perfect like this”.

Your body trembled as the waves of pleasure coursed through you, and even as you came undone beneath him, Ben didn’t stop. His movements slowed just enough to let you ride out your high, his hands firm and steady on your hips as he kept you exactly where he wanted you.

“Fucking beautiful when you come. Told you I’d make you love this”, he murmured, his smirk returning as he leaned in to brush his lips against your ear.

Ben wasn’t close to being done with you—not by a long shot. After a moment of catching his breath, he scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you to the couch and sitting down with you straddling his lap. His hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you as he eased you down onto him again. The stretch made your breath hitch all over again, but your body had already molded to him, making it easier this time.

“You’re not done yet, Peanut”, he murmured, his voice low and smug, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. “Not until I’ve had my fill”.

You didn’t know how much more you could take, but your body responded on instinct, your arms wrapping around his neck as he thrust up into you, slow and steady. Every motion sent shivers through you, the pressure building again despite how spent you already felt. His hands roamed your body, gripping, caressing, holding you steady as he moved beneath you.

Time blurred. You lost count of how many times he made you come—how many times your body tensed, shook, and fell apart in his arms. Ben took his time, alternating between hard, commanding movements and surprising moments of gentleness, as though savoring every second. His voice was a constant in your ear, filthy and possessive, coaxing every moan, whimper, and gasp out of you like they belonged to him.

By the time you collapsed against his chest, your body spent and trembling, you couldn’t even think straight. Your breaths came in soft, shaky gasps, your cheek resting against his chest. Ben’s hands moved to your back, stroking gently now, his touch grounding as you slowly came down from the overwhelming high.

“Shh”, he murmured, his voice softer now. “You’re done, baby. You’ve earned your rest”.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you securely against him as he leaned back into the couch. The tension in your body eased, and you felt your eyelids grow heavy, the steady rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his body lulling you into a daze.

Surprisingly, Ben didn’t push for more. He simply held you, his rough hands surprisingly gentle as they traced lazy circles on your back. His cocky smirk had softened into something almost content, his head resting against the back of the couch as he watched you drift off.

“Guess I wore you out”, he muttered, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he shifted slightly to make you more comfortable. “Can’t say I blame you, Peanut. You did good”.

You didn’t respond—couldn’t respond—as sleep overtook you. Completely spent, your body went limp against him, your soft breaths warm against his skin as you passed out in his arms. And for once, Ben didn’t press or tease. He just stayed there, holding you close, his gaze lingering on you with something almost resembling pride.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

[the-californicationist]

Bone Deep

AO3 Link -- MDNI -- TW: emotional hurt/comfort, make up sex

Your husband, John Price, has fallen into a pattern of behavior that seems to be moving him farther and farther away from you. But, you refuse to play second fiddle for long. 

You were drenched. It had been raining in such a way that made you think the Lord had gone back on his promise. Perhaps the rainbow had been painted just to placate you. Perhaps, you thought as you wrung out your hair on the porch, you would be drowned after all. 

It sure felt that way. Work had mounted up to the point of a fever-pitch. You had three projects due and one to revise. Not to mention, your husband had been home and yet almost fully invisible. 

John Price was back on something like leave, but he was never around. You saw evidence of his presence all over your floor and table and furniture. Socks, dirty plates, dead tablets, scraps of paper with Russian names scribbled on them... He was hunting Makarov in your kitchen and your hallway and your bathroom, and he was leaving that trail of breadcrumbs both literally and figuratively all over your house. 

You’d gone to bed alone for two nights in a row, and as you nearly tumbled over a pair of his sneakers in the foyer, caked in wet mud, you decided that it would not be three. 

“John?” You called out.

There was no reply, but a pale blue light shone under his office door. 

You popped open the latch and saw him hunched over the computer screen. 

“John.”

“Hm?” He responded, but he didn’t turn around. 

“John!”

“What?” He roared, spinning in his chair and glowering at you, shaming you for interrupting him.

“Okay,” you nodded, resigned. 

It would be a cold day in hell before you accepted that tone from anyone. You’d gone in there expecting to have a rational conversation, but your husband had raised his voice to you like you’d been a naughty dog. 

And you were absolutely not going to take that sort of treatment.

You made it to your bedroom in a quick three strides, pulling your overnight bag from under the bed. You shot your best friend, Cana, an SOS text. She lived two hours away, but you didn’t mind. You’d drive all night through the rain if it meant getting out of this prison that you used to call a home. 

Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic, but you had boundaries. Clear ones. And he knew he had crossed them. He just didn’t care. 

You started to pack as you fumed, tossing in a few days worth of clothes, your toiletry bag, the essentials. Then, the bedroom door clanged open, its handle slamming into the railing on the wall. 

“What’s this?” John waved a hand over your bag. 

“When I married you, I married a partner, not a ghost. The only reason I know you’re home is because you leave your fucking laundry for me to finish all over my floor. I’m not going to clean up after you like some maid. Then, you raise your tone at me, disrespecting me? No. When you’re ready to be my husband again, you know my number.”

He scoffed,

“All this bloody drama over some dirty socks?”

You stared at him in a way that told him just how serious you were. The silence between you stretched on for eons, expanding in all directions. You smiled, 

“You know it’s not the socks.”

The look in his eyes said: yes, I know it’s not the socks. But, his pride wouldn’t let him say the quiet part out loud. 

So, you left. 

Starting up the car was hard. Backing out of the driveway was harder. But, every mile you drove simply steeled your resolve. You knew his work was important, but you were important, too. You’d always be his wife, but you needed some space. 

You texted your boss when you made it to Cana’s house; you were taking a few days off. A night of tears and comforting hugs (and strong margaritas) passed, then a morning. Then, a night… and in the middle of it, you saw your phone light up. Despite the million other notifications you received every day, you knew it was him.

John: hey

You: hey

John: can i call

You: one sec

You sneaked out of bed, untangling yourself from Cana’s lanky arms, and lugged your phone out to the front porch. You were about to curl up on her big patio chair when you were stopped in your tracks at the sight of a big black truck idling in the driveway.

You sighed, standing there staring at your husband. He killed the engine and stepped down from the cab. As he approached you, looking up at you from the bottom of the stairs like a wide-eyed disciple, you noticed that his blue irises were ringed in pink, bloodshot and puffy. He hadn’t shaven, and he looked pale. 

But, even though you were still hurt, and even though he looked a little worse for wear, it was hard to ignore the carnal ache in your belly when you watched the muscles bulge and flex in his immense forearms as he crossed his arms in front of himself. The way his chest stretched out his black tee shirt, a tuft of fur peeking out of the crew neckline, the sleeves struggling to contain his round biceps. The way he chewed his full bottom lip when he had something important to say. It was enough to test your resolve.  

“Hey,” you said in a small voice, holding your arms around your body for comfort. 

Suddenly, those sharp eyes focused on you with rapt attention, and he stared right at you, speaking in a low, gravelly purr, trying to keep his voice down,

“I’ve been a proper arse.”

You tried to hold back a smirk. He continued,

“I took advantage of you. I’ve been hunting this fuckin’ bastard for so many years, and I’ve got him cornered. It’s all I can think about. Every night I think if only I was a little quicker, or maybe just bloody braver, I could stop him from killing more innocent people. I let him into our house. Into your life. And I shouldn’t have let my work come between us,” John’s expression softened, and he uncrossed his arms, hooking his thumb into his jeans pocket, “And I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly, still waiting for his next step. Being sorry was only part of it. 

“When you come home tomorrow, it’ll be different. I’m gonna pull my weight again. You have my word that I’ll only work when you work, and when you’re home,” he squared his shoulders, rocking his hips forward, nervous energy coursing through his body, “I’ll be home with you. I promise.”

You nodded, shifting your weight, staring down at your feet. Then, he called your attention with a caught breath and words that hurt you bone deep,

“You are coming home, right?”

You tried your honest best to fight the tears, but your body shuddered through a sob and you gasped in a sharp breath of air. He moved to hold you, to ascend the steps and repent, to be forgiven, but you held up your hand stopping him in his tracks,

“I won’t have you speaking to me like that, John. I won’t…” You thought about your words carefully, “I can’t be treated that way.”

“I understand, love. Believe me,” he chuckled, “I never want you to feel like that again.”

The way he rubbed his thumb across his sternum made your own chest hurt. He tried to approach you again, stepping up the wooden stairs, creaking under his weight, and he angled his chin up as if to kiss you. But, you stepped away, guarding your own heart for just a while longer. 

The hunger in his eyes followed you like smoke from a fire, warming you with its heat. 

“I’ll be home in the morning, John,” you said, turning to go back into the house. 

The next morning, as you packed, you thought about his promise. You hoped that you were heard. Truly heard and not just for a week of good behavior. You deserved to be respected, and you wouldn’t let your relationship with him become so one-sided again. 

When you pulled into your driveway, you expected to be greeted with the same dark, empty house. As you moved to pick your feet up over the usual mess of shoes, you discovered the foyer scrubbed to a high shine, and there was nothing to stumble upon. All the shoes were shoved into their little cubbies, and there wasn’t a dirty sock in sight. The living room was bright, clean, and John was standing in the middle of it, waiting for you. He took your bags, and scooped you up into a long, tight hug. 

You thought he might try to kiss you, but he didn’t. He just held you against him, breathing in and out, not letting go. Your face was buried deep in his chest, and you could smell his aftershave mixing with the strong scent of his cigars, and a slight musk that was all him. You wanted to feel his fur against your cheek. 

Suddenly, he grabbed your chin in his hand, making you face him, and he said in a dark, warm tone, 

“I’m gonna be the me that you need me to be. From now on. I swear it.”

You felt his soft lips touch yours, kissing you chastely, then deeper, chasing your taste, finding your tongue, licking along its length, savoring your mouth like a treat, cherishing every suck and nip and bite. 

“I missed you, John,” you admitted, feeling hot tears staining your cheeks, not realizing you were crying. 

He wiped them from your temples, smearing them into your skin, cradling your head in his hands so carefully as if you were made of glass. 

“I’ve been away. But, I swear, love. I swear, I’m back. I swear…”

His lips met your wet cheek and took your tears with them. 

“I swear…” 

He kissed your neck, holding your head in his huge paw.

“I swear…” 

You ran your hands over his neck, encircling him, tugging at his shirt, needing to feel his skin. He hooked his arms over his head and rucked the shirt off his back, tossing it on the couch. He pulled you into his lap as he sat down, sinking into the cushions, kissing you like you might disappear again. 

“I’m so sorry, love. Please forgive me,” John growled darkly, his deep voice rumbling between kisses. 

“Forgiven,” you said, forcing him to look at you.

Then, he put his forehead to yours and let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes and simply rubbing your back, trailing his hands over your hips, pulling you in closer to him. 

Tentatively, as if testing the waters of a deep well, you rocked your hips against him, seeing if you could get him to take the bait. If you had your husband back, you wanted to seal that promise with more than just a kiss. 

He groaned,

“Mm, I don’t deserve that.”

You repeated the motion, feeling the twitch of his fat cock inside of his jeans, and you narrowed your eyes at him,

“Sex isn’t a reward. It’s our connection, and I need to feel you. I need my captain back.”

He smiled, nuzzling your jaw, peppering your skin with little, chirping kisses, 

“Pretty girl… I missed you so much. What was I thinking?”

You shrugged, playing coy as you slipped off your leggings and set to undoing his buttons, opening the fly of his jeans to see the shock of dark hair and the swollen prize nestled in it, 

“I dunno. Maybe you just needed a reminder?”

As you teased him at your entrance, letting his head play in your wet folds, you began to sink down onto his shaft, spearing yourself onto his length, rocking back and forth with a tantalizing rhythm. 

“Mmngh,” he sighed, his eyes staring, transfixed on where your bodies reconnected. 

Finally, after some effort, his girth was fully sheathed within you, warmed and cradled by your soft heat. You began to lift yourself on your knees up and down, dragging all the way to his rosy head and then sliding all the way back down to those brown curls, enjoying the faces he was making against his will. 

However, he didn’t put up with your performance for long. Before you knew it, you were laying on the couch with your knees on your chest, taking every inch of his cock as deep as it would go. He had a gentle curve that, in this position, rubbed exactly where it needed to, pulling you along from one orgasm to the next like you were a kite, fully at his mercy and high as hell. 

Your mind swam with murky, unintelligible thoughts, and he fucked you harder and harder, pounding himself into you like a machine. Sometimes you forgot his strength… and his stamina. 

You whined a bit, your timbre changing from other-worldly pleasure to mild discomfort, and he picked up on it like a hound. He slowed, inspecting you, looking for the broken pieces. 

“You alright, missus?” He said, kissing you, thrusting shallowly now, checking in with you.

“Can we sit?”

“C’mere.”

John pulled you into his lap and continued his efforts, rocking himself back and forth, holding your body like a toy. Then, he snaked his hand between you, giving your clit something firm to rub against, and you felt the tingles begin to build inside of your belly, a coil tightening, a dam under pressure, a firework ready to burst. 

He was facing you, so you began to kiss him in a slow, supple way, letting your mouth fall open and your lips meet his with the lightest touch. John matched your energy, getting lost in your ritual, sending out the tip of his tongue to play and taste you again. 

He pulled away and licked his fingers before returning them to your folds,

“Mmf-fuck. You are so bloody good.”

“I want you to come in me, baby,” you confessed, resting your forehead on his, trying to catch your breath. 

You saw the surprise dance through his expression. 

“You sure?”

You knew it wasn’t something you allowed very often. You’d been off of your birth control for a few months, trying to give your body a break from the hormones. And even though you weren’t trying for a baby, that was always a dream that you shared. For John, it was the ultimate dream. 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you nodded, kissing his smiling mouth.

“Oh, fuck me,” he growled darkly, gripping you around your waist, changing the angle to something wholly transcendent. How did he do it? How did he know where your body needed him to be? It was absurd. 

Everything was bright and glittering as you came around him, and you felt yourself squeezing his cock mercilessly, coming down his shaft in hot, thick coatings of creamy slick, unable to stop it from flooding out around him. 

He, too, was erupting. He gasped for air, grunting in loud, animalistic shouts, his whole face contorted into a pleasure-filled rage, pumping you full of his soft, warm cream, frothing it with his rough movements. 

Eventually, he flung his head back, holding you to him in a tight hug, his entire body moving and reacting without his input, fully on instinct. You held him back, clutching him against you like a lifeline.

You thought he would slip out of you once he was down from his high, but he didn’t. He simply held you to him, sweaty and desperate, letting himself soften inside of you. It was as if he didn’t want to leave. 

“Thank you, love,” he kissed you again, shuddering yet powerful. 

“It’s nice to have you home, John,” you smiled, letting his soft laughter warm your heart, basking in it like the sun. 

[wandasaura]

DELICATE

summary — you’ve carefully planned for wanda and natasha’s return, and an abandoned red bra in the living room lays all of your plans on the table for them to bring to life while you sleep peacefully upstairs

warning(s) — established relationship, mention of battle and injury, mention of scars and wounds, avengers wandanat, alludes to dom/sub dynamics, consensual somnophilia, mentions of innocence and corruption, mutual masturbation, praise kink, oral, nipple stimulation/mild torture, straddling, grinding, fingering, somewhat delayed orgasm, brief fluff at the end, men/minors dni

kinktober

As Natasha crept through the house placed on the outskirts of a lively city, a lazy smile pulled at the chapped corners of her lips as she took in the sight of your mess sprawled across the kitchen and into the living room, and as she spotted a discarded bra beneath the couch, a hue of deep red adorned with intricate lace cups that left little to the imagination when it sat atop of smooth skin, a deep sense of desire warmed her belly with familiar sparks of pleasurable anticipation. Wanda was only a few steps behind her, hair tied up into a domestic loose bun that only accentuated the softness of her features that glimmered beneath the dim moonlight creeping into the foyer through the large windows lining the far wall in the living room. The windows had been one of her favorite features of the house when you’d moved out of the compound, and still you knew that if she was to be found nowhere else, she’d assuredly be sitting on the couch glancing out into the slow moving world around you.

They’d been away for days, off in Europe chasing down a lead that you admittedly knew very little about. Their line of work was dangerous, deadly, as much as you cared for their safety and dwelled on the security of the bases they crashed in while away, it was better for everyone if you were left in the dark. You knew only what you needed to; a rough estimate of how long missions would take, a very general description of the areas they’d be infiltrating, and close to nothing else. It had bothered you in the start, made you feel disconnected, unworthy, but when Wanda came home bloody and broken down during the early months of your intimate relationship, you’d realized that while they were cut out to face the despicable realities of human evil, you were not. You were soft, pure, untouched by humane darkness, theirs to corrupt in other ways; sexual ways. It was an imperfect dynamic, but one that you craved in their joint absence.

That discarded bra beneath the couch, in sight just enough for a perceptive ex-assassin like your Russian girlfriend to spot without difficulty, wasn’t merely an accidentally forgotten artifact that you’d gone willingly without in defeat, it was intentional, suggestive, an invitation for the corruption to begin again whenever they felt so inclined to tarnish your innocence. Upstairs, you slept soundly, body adorned in tantalizing thin silk fabric that pooled so loosely around your chest that your breasts became a spectacle for anyone to ogle if they so desired when you shifted any which way in your slumber. You didn’t know when they were set to arrive home, weren’t informed of the mission going off without a hitch, didn’t hear how the hinges on the door squeaked open and the lock latched shut. You’d gone to bed every night since they’d left in attire similar to what you wore now, and the thought of you so innocently giving your body away to the monsters that lurked in the night turned Natasha on beyond a reasonable explanation.

Near silently, despite the heavy soles of her combat boots weighing her footsteps down, Natasha crept up the stairs with Wanda hot on her heels, their hearts pounding in their chests as they sought out your presence and addictive body that had been so earnestly missed since their departure. Their returns home didn’t always come with sex and passionate sexual intimacy, sometimes it came with tight hugs that lasted minutes beneath the soft glow of artificial lighting, or long conversations in the downstairs bathroom as Wanda patched up Natasha’s injuries with tender affection and whispered apologies for the inevitable sting that came with the application of antiseptic. There was softness in your relationship, tenderness, but you wanted the harsher side of their love now, craved the corruption they adored putting onto you with consensual force.

When they found you, curled up on your side beneath heavy blankets that pooled around your waist undoubtedly due to a sudden hot flash sometime earlier in the night, your breasts exposed to whoever stepped foot inside your shared bedroom first, Wanda couldn’t contain her desire to have you any longer. Her tactile uniform was admittedly easier to slip off than Natasha’s, and she spared the woman no second glance as she dropped her heavy uniform to the floor at her feet to be dealt with later, instead making your tantalizing body her priority. She wanted to absolutely ravish you. She craved to feel your velvety walls around her fingers, pulsating and pleading to be ruined at whatever pace she decided on. She wanted to hear your soft moans as you came to consciousness to pleasure earned from her touch. She wanted you, and with or without Natasha, she would have you.

Her knees sunk into the mattress easily, jostling your body although you remained contently unaware of her presence. It was sickening to truly hone in on your drastic differences. Neither she nor Natasha would’ve slept through the lock being latched downstairs, neither she nor Natasha would’ve found peace sleeping so bare and vulnerable in a house without state of the art security (which they opted out of for the sake of reclaiming even an ounce of normalcy when off the clock), neither she nor Natasha would have remained asleep if the bed dipped so suddenly. Your innocence was remarkable, your trust in their willingness to protect you was admirable, but your eagerness to be ruined by two women that had done unspeakable things was what truly drove her crazy.

That first brush of her palm skimming against the silky skin of your thigh was heavenly, and it sent a pulse of electric excitement through her painfully untouched body. There’d been no time for intimate tenderness once they’d boarded the quinjet, no time to maintain the delicate strength of their romantic relationship. Natasha and Wanda had been teammates first, romantic feelings had come later on, that was how they worked so well on the field, but with each passing night of sleeping flush against each other with you in between them, it was getting harder to resist the nerve boiling urge to protect and cherish at all costs, no matter the casualties that came from two lovers choosing each other over the enemy on an already bloodied battlefield. The age of avenging was nearing its fatal end for two of the greatest anti-heroes the world had ever seen rise in the scattered ashes of trauma, but in its place would be the truest start to a wholesome relationship.

As expected, your cunt was ready for Wanda’s rough touch the second she pulled the thick covers away from your body and revealed the sight of you entirely for watercolor eyes to fall upon. You’d forgone panties, sleeping soundly with every inch of your soft skin exposed for the touch of your lovers to grope and caress at their own will. Wanda wasted not even a second despite having endless time to truly work you up, instead choosing to submerge her fingers calloused from days of wielding weapons and orbs of uncontainable energy into your soft velvety walls. She sought out that spongy spot within your cunt effortlessly, curling her fingers upward until she could massage it intently.

A soft gasp fell off of your lips when the sparks of pleasure caught up with your desperate body even in unconsciousness. Your body, soft and still, barely moved an inch as Wanda sank her fingers deeper into your core, her knuckles dragging against those slick walls that pulled her in deeper each time she gave into temptation to have you, drastically different from the nights where her simple touch had you writhing and pleading for more for anything she was willing to provide. It was the stillness of your wanting body that had her going in for more each time you gave yourself to them in slumber, and with Natasha to guide her desire to have you, soon it became two passionate lovers intent on provoking wild sensations of pleasure instead of just one. When the Russian joined Wanda in bed, her barren body adored with fading scars and newer gashes, the Sokovian hadn’t moved an inch, rather allowing her lips to ghost tantalizingly close to your glistening core, intent on being the one that brought an orgasm crashing over you whether you slept through the pleasure or woke in the midst of its climax.

Natasha didn’t object, rather focused her energy on teasing your nipples, allowing her calloused fingertips to pinch and tug at your erect buds with a near sadistic pressure that she wasted no time to ease you into. That first tug that turned into a harsh twitch had the delicate muscles in your face twitching, the slightest indication of pain rippling through your body evident, but she’d lightened her touches, kissed away the ache, and kept you asleep like it was something she’d been doing for a lifetime. Her thighs framed your torso as she hovered over your body, memorizing the innocence etched across your face as your chest rose and fell in even breaths, not yet uneven and frenzied like it would become in minutes when Wanda’s fingers and tongue had you teetering over the edge of pleasure just out of reach from being fully yours. Despite Wanda not caring if you woke, Natasha wasn’t ready for that just yet, and so with careful movements, she lowered herself onto your belly, the soft silk of your slip providing little friction where she needed most, but not willing to wake you to receive anything more.

In tandem, they worked your body up, teasing touches slowly became harsh movements, minimal whines and whimpers became labored breathing and quivering thighs. Natasha sought her own pleasure as she ground her hips against your soft belly, meanwhile Wanda had one hand between her legs and the other between yours, her tongue soothing the inches of skin and sensitive nerves that she couldn’t quite reach with only one hand. Their moans fueled your arousal further even in your half asleep state, and when Wanda moaned particularly lewdly against your sensitive core, vibrations shooting through your center and further tightening that ever growing coil in your belly, your eyes fluttered open in disheveled confusion that was quickly overtaken by immense pleasure. Your hands floundered for something to grasp onto, your heels digging into the mattress as you adjusted your position beneath them both, simultaneously opening yourself up for them to corrupt while giving Natasha more surface area to work with.

“Look who's finally awake.” Natasha mused tauntingly, her soft eyes sparkling beneath the thin beam of moonlight that brought lightness to your otherwise dark bedroom. She leaned forward to brush her lips against yours, but before you could reciprocate the tender affection she’d attempted to bestow upon you, Wanda was jackhammering into your cunt without restrain, drawing lewd moans from the depths of your throat that would surely have you scrounging for water in the morning to soothe the distant ache. “Gonna be a good girl for us, angel? Gonna cum for Wanda?”

“Please! I’m so close! God!” You cried out, still relatively disoriented from only just waking up, but more than willing to submit to their touch and willingness to give you pleasure. You could tell by the way Natasha’s hips stuttered against your navel that she was getting close herself, and if the frequent moans breathed against your cunt were any indication of Wanda’s approaching orgasm, you knew that there were mere seconds before she exploded with you. “I’m gonna cum! Please, I can’t hold it! Not tonight!”

“Not tonight.” Natasha assured sweetly, her voice soft and breathy as it floated through the silent bedroom and landed in your ears. You’d always been told that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but you hadn’t quite know the extent of its truth until you’d met both her and Wanda. You dreaded the weeks where separation was inevitable, but it always made moments like this so much sweeter. “I know Wanda’s close, baby. I know you’re close. Count of three, okay? Can we cum together?”

“Just– Just be quick! Please, I can’t hold it! I can’t hold it!” You pleaded with her to go easy on your desperate body, hoped that your high pitched whines and mindless scrounging for something to grasp onto conveyed that message clearly. It did, because with a soft countdown uttered by your lovable ex-assassin you came to a blinding climax in unison, sweaty, tired bodies melting into each other in the blissful aftermath. “I missed you.” You mumbled sleepily, wiggling out of your silk slip that was now sodden with Natasha’s arousal, though you didn’t mind the nakedness of your stature much anyways. Wanda would throw you a pair of her own pajamas inevitably, so you were only making it easier on yourself to change.

“We missed you, detka. So much.” Wanda mumbled, crawling up the bed until she could lay her lips on yours, the taste and scent of your arousal still clinging to her lips and togue, but you didn’t mind. “Happy Halloween.” She giggled lightly, reminding you of the holiday that had been vastly approaching, although you hadn’t done much to prepare for it, rather spent the last week riddled with intense feelings of longing and sorrow. That was in the past now, because even if they slipped away for another week long mission next month, you had them by your side now, and that’s all that mattered.

[ocinstar]

Like a cake

Spencer x afab!reader

Summary: Spencer accidentally eats a special brownie and gets baked for the first time, making him reveal some things.

Cw: drug use (devils lettuce), fluff, use of y/n

A/n: cooked this up at 3 am while watching that scene in the perks of being a wallflower where charlie gets high and thought high spencer would be hilarious 😭

Also this is not proof read, so if u see any spelling mistakes, no you didn't 😇

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"Do I really have to go to this thing?" Spencer asked Derek from his seat beside me.

Derek had gotten an invite to a house party by some of his friends and had insisted on us coming along with him. Emily and I were pretty quick to accept the invitation, but it took a lot of convincing to get boy wonder to agree to join us. He only agreed after I promised to lend him my copy The Undertaker in the original Russian print.

"Yes, you do." Morgan answered with a breathy chuckle. Spencer sighed and sunk lower in his seat. I sort of felt bad now for pushing him to come, especially since I know he's uncomfortable with things like this. But that's also exactly why I pushed him, to get him out of his comfort zone a bit and have the chance to talk with people in a low stress environment. Derek had said the party wasn't supposed to be to big, just a few friends. Which of whom were all going to be intoxicated, therefore easier to talk to since drunk people tend to be less judgmental than sober people.

"Don't worry, spence. It'll be fun." I gave him a reassuring smile. He let out another sigh that let me know he didn't really believe me.

"Yeah, Reid. It'll be fun." Emily reiterated from the front seat. I didn't plan on leaving Spencer to fend for himself at this party of course. I planned on staying by his side until I was sure he was going to be fine, but I realized that might be a bit harder than I thought as we pulled up to the house. It was crowded with cars and some people hanging out on the front lawn. As we stepped out, we could hear the music coming from inside.

"This is definitely more than 'a few friends', Morgan." Spencer fidgeted with his hands nervous. Derek patted his back before clapping his shoulder and shaking him slightly.

"You'll be just fine, pretty boy." He said before him and Emily walked off and into the house. Spencer's anxiety was very apparent as he cracked and played with his fingers.

"We can leave if you really want to." I offered once I realized something like this might be way to out of his comfort zone. He took a deep breath and shook his head.

"No, no, it's fine."

"Are you sure?" I asked again just to make sure he was ok with this. He nodded his head yes so I linked my arm with his as I lead him into the party.

From the amount of cars parked outside of course I expected there to be way more people than previously anticipated, but I definitely didn't expect this many people. I held onto spencer's arm a bit tighter as we walk through the sea of people. I saw some people head down to where I assumed the basement was and lead spencer down the stairs. It was calmer down there, less people and softer music. So I thought this would be a better environment for spencer, who was currently as stiff as a board. I unlinked my arm from his to give him some space. I spotted the vacant couch and gestured for him to follow me as he went on about how Morgan was a liar.

"'Just a few people' he said. He promised just a few people! This is what I get for trusting him. He's always trying to get me to go to parties with him, of course it wasn't gonna be 'just a few people.'" His rant continued as we walked.

"Yes, yes, Derek is a liar and I'll put salt in his coffee tomorrow. But for now, just try to have a bit of fun tonight, ok?" I sat down on the couch, making myself comfortable. He sighed heavily and nodded.

"Ok, I'll try." He sat down, awkwardly positioned on the edge with his hands on his knees. It was obvious he felt uncomfortable sitting on a strange couch with God knows what on it. There was an ottoman beside the coffee table that looked like it opened up, so I opened it in hope to find something for spencer to sit on. Sure enough there was a thin blanket that looked clean.

"Here, up." I ordered him to stand and he did without a word. Cute.

I draped the blanket over the couch and gestured for spencer to sit back down. He smiled me gratefully as he sat back down, now looking much more comfortable.

"Thank you." I waved my hand dismissively, I mean it's the least I could do for making him come here. Some people filed back upstairs, so I saw an opportunity a drink from upstairs while it was basically empty down here.

"Will you be ok if I go get a drink?" He looked up at me with his gorgeous brown eyes, which made me want to just sit back down and forget about the drink.

"Yes, I'll be fine." He gave me a tight liped smile. I was reluctant to leave him, but I walked off regardless.

~~~

I felt awkward sitting all alone. After y/n left, I just started fiddling with my hands and looking around. I wish I had told y/n to stay. She was the only reason I had came and now without her here, i felt out of place.

I hear a group of people come down the stairs, their loud laughing filling the room. I get insanely anxious when I realize their voices getting closer to me.

"Hey man, mind if we sit here with you?" One of the guys ask. Of course I couldn't say no. Well technically I could, but I don't know how without coming across rude.

"Uh, yeah, sure." I slide over to the very end of the couch as 2 of them sat down and the others sat on the floor or stood. They continued their loud conversation and I wondered if I should just leave.

"Whatever, star wars and star trek are basically the same thing." One girl said from the floor. I suddenly thought back to earlier and the promise i made to y/n to try and have fun. So I interjected before I could over think it.

"Actually, Star Trek is more based on probable science as basis for it's plot while star wars is more sci-fantasy more focused on how people react to their surroundings, instead of how the surroundings are possible." I regretted opening my mouth immediately. They stared at me, surprised I had spoken to them.

"Thank you!" The guy sitting beside me shouted. "See! I told you!" He pointed at the girl who was speaking earlier. She simply rolled her eyes at him and he turned his head to me.

"Continue telling her how wrong she is." They all looked at me, waiting for me to continue my informational rant. Which I happily did. As I talked more about the differences and similarities between the 2 worlds, one of the guys, who I hadn't noticed had left, approached us with a plate of brownies. He held them out to the group and they all excitedly reached for them.

"You want one to?" He offered and held the plate out further so I could reach it. Of course I wasn't going to pass up a free treat, so I took one without giving it much thought.

"Thank you." I chewed on the browine as I carried on with what I was saying before being interrupted. This night is turning out to be fun after all. I do wish y/n was her though.

"Can I have another one please?"

~~~

Upstairs felt like a nostalgia trip back to high school. A room flooded with drunk people and people groping each other. It took some time to navigate my way through everyone and it took even longer finding the kitchen. But I eventually found my way. I was delighted seeing the familiar face of Derek Morgan as I entered.

"Well if it isn't the liar." He looked up from pouring his drink. He smiled at me and laughed.

"How's boy genius doing?" He asked as he took a sip of whatever drink he mixed together.

"I think he might climb out a window and run home any second now." I grabbed 2 empty solo cups, filling one up with water and the other with vodka and cranberry juice. Derek laughed.

"Ah I think he has a compelling reason to stay." He winked at me and I felt a blush creep onto my cheeks. I regret telling him about my crush on spencer. I told him to shut up, which just make him chuckle.

We talked for a few minutes about how Emily had almost immediately found a girl to flirt with and has been with her all night. And almost as if on cue, she walked in. We all teased her about her party crush for a few minutes, until the teasing turn onto me. I also regretted telling Emily about my crush.

I hadn't realized how much time had passed till Emily mentioned something about spencer being left alone for so long. A whole 30 minutes had passed since I had come upstairs and I immediately felt bad for ditching spencer for so long without a word. I quickly grabbed the 2 cups and bid them goodbye before hurrying off.

Getting through all the people took longer than before since I had to be extra careful as to not spill anything. I felt relieved when I finally reached the stairs to the basement. I was worried that spencer had been just sitting there for the past half an hour in silence. But my worries were quickly squandered as I saw him talking with a group of people who looked to be about our age. He had changed spots, now sitting criss-cross on the coffee table while all the other's surrounded him like it was story time.

"And I don't understand why leia kissed luke if she literally said in return of the jedi that she always knew he was her brother." Spencer babbled on as the people around hilm laughed loudly.

"Hey, spence." I saw his eye's light up when he saw me and he smiled wide.

"Y/n!" He threw his hands up, which caused him to almost fall backwards. He caught himself just in time and giggled a bit. It wasn't until I got closer to him that I noticed how red his eyes were. That, mixed with his odd behavior, it was clear he was not sober.

"Are you stoned?" I tried my best to contain my laughter, but it was funny watching him rock back and forth looking like he was really thinking about the question i just asked.

"Yes. No. I only had 2 brownies." He counted 2 on his fingers and held them up to me. The people he was talking to all started laughing and spencer joined in with them, probably not registering they were laughing at him.

"Ok, wanna come with me to a quiet place away from these people?" I leaned in closer to him, careful not to let the others hear. He doesn't say anything right away, just looks at me with an expression i couldn't place, but one that made my stomach flutter.

"Yes, please." He whispers back and stands up quickly. He sways back and forth for a moment before steady himself.

"We're gonna go somewhere else." Spencer tells the group and they all start booing in protest and all shouting disappointed "no's". Spencer seemed unbothered by them, but does say a quick apology regardless. I gestured for him to follow me as I stared walking away. He waved them goodbye before hurrying after me.

I lead him down a dimly lit hallway and into an unlocked room, which thankfully had no one in it. It appeared to be a guest room that was pretty empty, besides a queen bed, a night stand with a lamp and a rug.

"Those people were nice. They knew nothing about star trek though." Spencer sat down on the rug, returning to his criss-cross position.

"You do know there's a bed right there." I laughed, pointing to the bed that was right behind him. He shrugged.

"The rug looked softer." He said as he felt the rug. I took a seat next to him, putting the drinks off to the side. He looked completely out of it, like he was on a different planet.

"How are you feeling?" I asked and leaned back against the bed.

"Weird."

"I assume you've never been stoned before?" He shakes his head.

"I've read about the effects of marijuana, euphoria, altered perception, impaired memory and cognition. But It's so much different actually experiencing it first hand. It feels weird. I also probably shouldn't have ate 2 of those brownies. Brownies sound really good right now. Oh! Another effect of marijuana is increased appetite, or the "munchies" as they call it." He smacked his lips together, then licks them.

"My mouth is really dry." I couldn't help but laugh. This is definitely not how i expected this night to go. He turns to me as I laugh with a painfully cute expression that made my stomach flip. I reached for the cup of water i had gotten for him earlier and handed it to him.

"Here." I chuckled and he took it quickly. He didn't even look to see what was in the cup before downing the whole thing. Once he had finished, he whipped his mouth and put the cup down.

"Thank you. Your so kind." He turned to me and smiled gratefully. He looked absolutely beautiful in that moment. His hair was slightly messy, his eyes were glossed over and dreamy looking, his smile was simply adorable and the light was hitting him just right. His compliment made me blush and I turned away from his gaze. I felt him continue to stare at me.

"I'm sorry you're stuck taking care of me. I know you probably wanted to have fun tonight." His face had dropped and he sighed.

"It's ok, spence. I am having fun." I reassured him. Witnessing his first experience being high was admittedly very entertaining. He sighed again. He just looked at me in silence for a few moments, making me nervous.

"You're so amazing." He blurts out suddenly. His words took me by surprise and I felt my face heat up, probably now a light shade of pink.

"You're so pretty too. And caring, and smart, and funny, and pretty." His tone was light and distant, like he wasn't aware he wad saying all this out loud. That made me snap back to reality and remember that he was high. I felt a wave of disappointment hit me when I realized he was probably just saying all this stuff because he was stoned, not because he meant it.

"Ok, spence." I said dismissively and laughed a bit to hide my disappointment.

"I think you're the most amazing person I've ever met. I mean, there's a party happening right now and you choose to stay with me. You're always doing that, taking care of me. I think that's why I love you so much." The last part really caught my attention, my disappointment quickly dissipating and being replaced with shock.

Did he really just say that? I know I shouldn't take anything he says right now seriously, but admitting that he loves me seems pretty serious. I take a few seconds just to process what he had just said. I was sure he didn't mean it like that, I'm sure he meant as just a friend. But that didn't stop my heart from fluttering.

"What?" I finally said with a uncontrollable smile on my face. He turned to me, confused.

"What?"

"You just said you love me." His eyes widened and he shot up straight.

"What?!" He looked at me like a deer caught in headlights. He groaned, putting his head in his hands and shaking his head.

"Spence, it's ok. I know you didn't mean it like that." He sighed. He said something, but it was muffled by his hands.

"I can't hear you." He sighed again and lifed his head up so i could hear him clearer.

"I did mean it like that." He said, his voice quite and low. I couldn't believe what i had heard, so I just stared at him in shock for a moment. He glanced over to me when I didn't say anything for to long, groaning when he saw my shocked expression.

"Ugh, this is not how I wanted to tell you." He put his head back in his hands and slouched forward.

"I know you don't feel the same and we're just friends. I'm so sorry, y/n. You can forget I ever said that, i don't want it to be awkward or uncomfortable for you. I just-"

"Who said I didn't feel the same?" I cut him off before he got to in his head. He turned his head so face that I thought he'd get whipe lash, his red eyes wide in surprise.

"Wait, what?" The look on his face made me giggle.

"You're smart and funny and kind and you're insanely cute, you understand me in a way no one ever has. You're so passionate about your work and helping people. You're the most incredible, extraordinary person I've ever known. How could I not love you?" I felt a huge weight lift off my chest as I tell him everything I've wanted to say to him for so long. He just stares at me wide eyed, his mouth opening like he was about to say something, but then closing it again.

"I- what- wait- huh?" He stammered, making me laugh.

"I'm sorry, it must be the drugs or my own wishful thinking. But did you just say what I think you said?" A piece of hair fell onto his face, so I tucked it behid his ear. His face turned red and his mouth hung agape slightly.

"Maybe we should talk about this when you're sober."

"No, I want to talk about it now." He scooted closer to me. I was almost certain this is not how he wanted this conversation to go, him stoned out of his mind and in some random room in a random house. Of course I wanted to say it again, to tell him I love him and that I've loved him for years. But I'd rather tell him that when he can process more than 1/2 things at once.

"Later, when you're not baked like a cake." He laughed like it was the funniest joke he'd ever heard.

"'Baked like a cake'" He repeated after his laughter died down to a frequent giggle. His face suddenly turned more serious and he looked me right in the eye.

"Cake sounds so good right now." His face was so serious, like he had to have cake at that very moment or someone would kill his whole family. The intensity on his face was enough to make me burst into laughter. I had to look away from him to compose myself, so I didn't see him go to lay down. I felt his head rest on my thighs, the sudden contact taking me by surprise. I look down to see him turned away from me with his eye's closed.

After my initial shock disappeared, I hesitantly ran my fingers through his hair. He sighed in content and placed his hand on my knee. I smiled to myself as I continued to play with his hair.

"I'm tired." He mumbled. As if almost on cue, i felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I took it out to reveal a text from Derek. I chuckled as I read it over.

"Well you're in luck because Emily puked on a girl and now we're leaving." I tried to get up, but his head remained on my lap.

"Come on, spence. You gotta get up." He groaned in protest and gripped my leg to keep me in place.

"Don't wanna."

"Spencer." I said softly. I didn't want to move either, but unless we wanted to take a taxi home, we had to get up. He sighed before pushing himself up, his hair a complete mess. I reached over to fix it for him, combing his hair with my fingers. He looked at me like I was an angel on earth, his eyes fixed on me. Though the urge to pull him in right then was strong, but I had to get him home.

"Come on." I stood, reaching my hand out to help him up. I interlocked his hand with mine once he had stood up. I lead him out the door, back out to the basement, upstairs and through the crowd to the front yard where Derek was waiting for us.

"Hey, love birds." He smirked when he caught sight of our interlocked hands.

"Hi, Morgan. Do you have any snacks in your car?" Spencer asked. Morgan looked at him funny and smiled wide when he saw his red eyes.

"Are you baked?" Spencer giggled to himself before responding.

"Like a cake." He started laughing and Derek looked at me for answers.

"I'll tell you later." Derek nodded and walked over to his car, me and spencer following behind. Emily was already in the front seat, passed out. I felt bad for how she was going to feel in the morning.

The ride home was quiet, besides the occasional snore coming from Emily. I turned to Spencer to see him fighting off sleep, his eyes just slivers and struggling to keep his head up. I squeeze his hand to get his attention. He turned to me with tired eyes and I gestured for him to lean his head on my shoulder. He whispered a "thank you" before resting his head on my shoulder. We stayed that way till we reached Spencer's apartment complex.

I shook him slightly as we parked outside his building. His eyes opened slightly and he removed his head from my shoulder.

"Come on, I'll walk you inside." He gave me a tired smile. I escorted him out the car and into his building.

He talked about the book he was reading on the way up to his apartment, he barely making any sense as he did so. Once we reached his door he got quiet.

"You really meant it right?" He asked and I looked at him confused.

"Meant what?"

"What you said earlier." I smiled once I realized what he was talking about.

"Of course I meant it."

"Good. I meant it to." He smiled sweetly. I would've never imagined that spencer would like me back, or that I'd find out this way. But I'm happy regardless. I'm so happy. Spencer Reid, my best friend, loves me.

I cupped his cheek and leaned in to kiss his cheek. He looked at me wide eyed when I pulled away.

"Goodnight, spence."

"G'night." He muttered, his surprise still evident. I waved him goodbye before heading back down to the car.

The ride back to my place consisted of telling Morgan how spencer had managed to get high on accident and him telling me how Emily drank way to much, resulting in her throwing up all over the girl she'd been flirting with. I left out the love confession part to avoid any further torment that spencer would definitely have to endure from him at work.

As he talked about what had happened while me and spencer where in the basement, I thought about everything that had happened. My smile grew more and more as I replayed the events of tonight. Just then, I felt my phone buzz. My smile growing impossibly wide when I read the text on the screen.

*ate everything in my fridge. I love you.*

I laughed before typing my response.

*I love you too.*

~~~

A/n: first tumblr fic guys! This was longer then i expected so oopsies my b 🤗 anyways, hope you enjoyed!

[writersblockiskillingme]

Red | The Salesman

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!reader

Summary: After a tiring day, you're just trying to go home, but while you're waiting on your train, a handsome man in a suit stumbles on you.

Warning/s: betting, money in exchange for a game, slapping (on the face, you nasty), salesman trying to recruit you for the games, smoking cigarettes, people on the station being kind of weirded out, maybe some cursing (idk), reader is in debt, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: So this is like the prequel to my story Russian Roulette, but it really doesn't matter whether you read that fic or this one first. You do you. I really love the request, btw. Hope you enjoy!

Request: hii can u make more stories in this story line between the reader n him? like i rlly wanna know what they were like tgthr before this situation since we r told they had smth tgthr at some point tyyyy

Part 2 here!!

The bench where I was sitting was quite cold, which, of course, wasn't surprising considering how cold it was tonight. My hand slightly shook as I wrapped my fingers around the lit up cigarette that I was smoking for who knows how long. My flimsy jacket that was wrapped around me did not bring exact comfort to me that I had hoped it would.

Shivering there, I sat as the announcer's voice rang around the train station, signaling that the train that I was waiting for to go home would be slightly delayed, forcing me to wait there for entire hour more than I should be waiting. It was already late and I was so done with today's day.

Trying to earn money was hard, especially when you're in a lot of debt. Being chased by the people who you owe money to, threatening to cut out your eyes, possibly even kill you in the end, wasn't fun either. You had to learn to sleep with one eye open. Constantly on edge, just like I was right now.

The job that I worked did not provide as much money as I needed it to. There was simply no way for me to earn enough money for food every day, to pay rent which I was already three months behind. My landlord was truly a fucking angel for letting me live in that house as long as I did, but I knew that that wouldn't last forever either. There was no way that I could afford to pay everything that was essential, let alone pay off my debts.

In frustration, letting out a deep, disappointed sigh, my hand slid into the pocket of my jacket, reaching for yet another cigarette and a lighter.

"Hello, miss."

I practically jumped from my seat, startled by a sudden voice next to me. I whipped my head around, finding the face that this voice belonged to.

Right next to me, smiling, was a very handsome man that looked like some kind of salesman. He was wearing a very expensive suit. His hair was as black as the night sky. His piercing eyes just as black. There was little to no facial hair, but that really suited him. He was very handsome and I quickly found myself surprised when I realized that he was actually talking to me.

"Can I talk to you?" He asked once he noticed how startled I was.

"I'm not a prostitute, sir." I said, sliding away on the bench further away from him.

"Don't worry, miss, it's not that." He chuckled gently, his eyes never leaving mine. "I just want to let you in on a great opportunity to win some money."

There was just silence for a while. I sad nothing all the while he kept looking at me.

"Um..." I looked at him and, for a while, just couldn't bring myself to speak up. "No, thank you."

"'No'?" He asked.

It seemed like I caught him by surprise, but after a little while I noticed something else in his eyes that I just couldn't seem to figure out. Some kind of amazement? Respect even? But there was definitely something that I couldn't label quite yet.

"There is definitely a catch." I smiled slightly. I would love to get some money, of course, but I know that it won't be that easy.

"Miss." The salesman smiled once again, his eyes surprisingly gently just like his voice as he spoke. "Would you like to play a game with me?

"Wha-What kind of g-game?" I found myself stuttering a bit. "Look, if this is some sort of sick perverted thing you're doing 'cause I swear if you try something, I am going to scream." I threatened, a newfound confidence overwhelming me.

He chuckled once more, "No, nothing like that, Miss."

All of a sudden, he quickly turned his face away from me as he reached to open his suitcase. I could swear that for a split second I saw him blush, but then I realized that I probably imagined it because there's no way. I mean, sure, he is very handsome, but the two of us are a whole world apart, too different from each other.

"I'm sure you've played ddakji before, right?" He spoke and I looked at the open suitcase that was resting between us.

There were a few piles of money on one side and two different colors of ddakji on the other side. Red and blue. I looked at him with surprise.

"You-You want me to play ddakji with you?" I asked, raising my eyebrow in question.

He nodded with a smile.

"For money?"

He nodded again, "Play a few rounds of ddakji with me and each time you win, I'll pay you a 100,000 won."

Damn.

I mean, sure, why not. I loved that game when I was a kid, and I didn't have a chance to play the game in what seemed like forever. Plus, if I win, I get money. It all seemed amazing, but then I realized what the problem with all of this could be.

"And what if I lose and you win." I asked, he continued to smile as he answered.

"Then you pay me 100,000 won."

"Sir, this is amazing and all, don't get me wrong." I gently said, "But I'm afraid that I don't have the money to pay you back."

"That is all right, miss." His smile unwavering. "We'll figure something else regarding that if it comes to it."

For a moment, I just sat there in silence, pondering the offer. But after a while I finally decided.

"Ah, sure," I sighed before matching his smile and meet his eyes, "Why not?"

"What color would you like to play as?" He asked me, taking both red and blue ddakji as I stood up. He followed me almost immediately.

"Red, please." I said and he smiled as he handed me the red ddakji.

As I reached for the red one that he was handing me out, our hands touched. For a moment we both froze, but then I quickly took the ddakji and moved away.

It was so strange. The feeling I got when I touched his hand. It was as if some sort of electricity went straight through me, forcing me to quickly move away due to the shock of it all.

He cleared his throat before extending his right hand, pointing to the floor, "You gotta first, Miss."

I nodded, and with that, he placed the blue ddakji on the ground, and I stood over it. I took a stronger hold of the red ddakji and stood up more straight as I glared at the blue ddakji. Goodness, I haven't done this in years, I thought to myself, letting out a shaky breath.

I took a deep breath.

I could feel his eyes on me.

I swang my arm behind my head before powerfully striking his blue ddakji. Apparently, I must have done something wrong because his blue ddakji moved but did not flip over. I let out a sigh, looking kind of defeated.

He stepped forward, grabbed his blue ddakji, and stood back up. I moved away, giving him more space, his eyes folowing my every move. Almost immediately, he swang his arm behind his head, slaming his blue ddakji on my red one, flipping it over with ease. I sighed as he turned to look at me, teasing smile making it's way on his face.

"So..." I spoke up, kind of unsure and slightly intimidated, "So what now? I lost."

"Don't worry about money." He spoke up, kind of surprising me with that one, "We'll discuss it at the end if that is okay with you, Miss?"

"Sure." I answered him, meeting his eyes.

His smile widened a little bit more as we, for a few moments, just stood there taking each other in. All of a sudden, he cleared his throat, snapping himself out of it.

"One more round?" He asked as he fixed his tie, I nodded, not saying a word.

Turns out, one round meant about five more. I lost every single round. It truly began to seem like luck wasn't on my side that day.

We got to the last round, the sixth one. I was getting annoyed, constantly losing. I took a deep breath. His blue ddakji stared at me, my red one locked in my hand. I flipped my ddakji over and decided that that was it. I swang my hand behind my head and delivered the most powerful swing yet. I stared at his blue ddakji and my red one as both of them flipped in the air before his blue ddakji landed on the cold floor. It flipped over... I won...

I couldn't help the laugh that escaped my lips as he gave me a little applause, smiling as I jokingly bowed.

"Wow," I chuckled, "I finally won the round."

"Well done, Miss." He chuckled lowly, but somehow so softly as he reopened his suitcase handing me 100,000 won. "As promised."

"Thank you," I said, taking the money, "but I lost like five times. Tell me, what can I possibly give you to make this even."

"How about you give me the pleasure of taking you out for dinner, Miss?" He spoke up almost shyly in a way that was so endearing, and even though it seemed like that look wouldn't fit him, it somehow did. "Only if you want to, of course."

"I..." I spoke up stuttering and blushing a bit, surprised by his offer, "I would love to."

After that interesting interaction, we went out to get dinner. I had a great time with him, and even though I hated to admit it, I started to like him. We talked on and on about random things. We were truly having fun and that made my day so much better.

Before separating, he gifted me a blood red rose, and he gave me a card that looked really strange. At the front of the brownish card was a circle, a triangle, and a square. I flipped the card over and saw what looked like a telephone number.

"Miss, there are other games like the one that we played where you can make even more money than you did. So much more." He started to explain, but his expression became different. His smile was gone and there was a sort of gloomy gaze in his eyes. That seemed to surprise him. "Think about it."

He stepped closer to me, looked me deep in the eyes before he started to slowly lean in. I found myself doing the same. Our lips met. We were just standing there, outside of the restaurant, rose in my hand, his hands on my face deepening the kiss.

As we parted ways, he told me that he hoped to see me again if I made it. Whatever that meant.

I took another look at the card that he gave me, staring at the number, not knowing that I will meet my childhood friend Gi-hun, not knowing what the games will do to both of us and to all the other people, not knowing the amount of money I was gonna win, not knowing that I will spend the next three years of my life chasing the man of my life, trying to haunt him down, not knowing how dangerous the last game that we'll play will be.

TAGLIST:

@shadow-tumbler

[frost-queen]

Russian roulette (Reader x Salesman)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @floatlosers,  @alex--awesome--22, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildiefleur , @meyocoko , @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedrava-bitch-187, @erikasurfer , @slythetic  , @eliscannotdance, @p0nycurtis, @slythetic, @bitchybananaflower

You stared anxiously at your phone. For two minutes now you had been trying to call Gi-hun. Two minutes with no results. Each time you dialled his number it kept ringing till it went to voicemail. At  first you left a message or two, now you were getting desperate. There was a deal. When he missed a call, he would immediately call back. That was what worried you. He should’ve heard you had been trying to call him for Twelve times now.

His phone literally blowing up with messages. Each time you heard his voicemail, you hung up just to call again. So why wasn’t he calling you back. His phone went to voicemail again, making you groan loud in frustration.

Ready to throw your phone at the ground. – “Gi-hun, you bastard.” – you panted out. Freaking out that he was making you worry so much. After having received the message that the salesman was found, you had been trying to call him. Knowing the vendetta he had with the man in suit and tie.

He wouldn’t? Suddenly crossed your mind. You tried dialling him once more, getting in motion. After a few second of hearing nothing but the beep tone, you hung up. Coming from under the shelter into the pouring rain. Sprinting to get back to the motel where Gi-hun’s room was. Hoping he wouldn’t go face the salesman on his own. You just needed to see if he was still back at his room. Needing to know that he wasn’t going to do anything foolish.

The phone lit up once more, another message popping up. Gi-hun looked down at it. Only for a brief second before turning his attention back to the man in front of him. The salesman. The salesman chuckled deeply, his gun laying out in the open on the table, just underneath his hand. – “Someone is eager to reach you.” – he said with a wicked smile on his lips. Gi-hun kept his expression stern, staring with hatred back at the man.

The salesman came leaning over the table to read the name that had been calling him numerous times. – “Y/n.” – he whispered out, sitting back down. He tilted his head a bit, narrowing his eyes. Trying to decipher the connection between the two of you. – “Chingu?” – he tried seeing Gi-hun barely give any reaction. – “Ani, ani.” – he called out waving his hand across. The answer being silly.

“Girlfriend?” – he questioned. Paying a close attention to Gi-hun’s expression. Gi-hun swallowed deeply as it made the salesman smile. – “Ani.” – he repeated with another wave of his hand. Dismissing the connection. – “I thought you wanted to play a game?” – Gi-hun spoke to send him back on his tracks. The salesman brought his finger to his lips, shushing him. He brought the gun up, scratching the back of his head with it. Intrigued by this little game to torment Gi-hun even more. He riled himself up over it.

The salesman placed the gun back down. Leaning in closer. Hands folded together. Observing every micro-detail in his expression. Seeing how Gi-hun started to get nervous. Maintaining eye-contact with deep breaths. Till. His eye-contact broke off. Letting his gaze glide to the side as it made the salesman curl up a smile. – “Sister.” – he whispered out. Smiling even more at the right answer. Gi-hun’s gaze flashed back to the salesman. This time with slight horror in his eyes.

The salesman started to laugh. Laugh loud. Manically, hysterical. – “Are you done?” – Gi-hun called out, having enough of his games. The salesman inhaled deep, stroking a hand through his hair. He looked briefly down at his jacket, taking out a phone. Placing it down with much care. – “You are familiar with Russian roulette?” – he asked, meeting up with Gi-hun’s gaze.

The salesman pressed a button, playing some instrumental music from his phone. Gi-hun swallowed nervously when he started to explain the rules. Emptying his gun from all bullets. They came clattering down on the table. One of them rolling over the edge, onto the floor. The salesman took a bullet, putting it back in. He let it roll so he wouldn’t know when the bullet would be fired.

He then placed the gun back down in front of him. – “Who knows, when I’m done, I might look for your sister and put her into the games.” – he let out, leaning back in his chair. – “You wouldn’t dare!” – Gi-hun called out, his fists trembling on the table. The salesman curling up a smile at how emotionally he was reacting now. He definitely had the right answer. – “Shall we?” – the salesman took the gun, pointing the end at his head.

Smiling tauntingly at Gi-hun before pulling the trigger. Click. Gi-hun swallowed deeply as the salesman removed the gun from him. Laughing loud. Gi-hun stared at the gun laying in front of him. Cheeks trembling with his nervous breathing. When he said he wanted to find the salesman, this was not what he had in mind. Torture  based on luck. – “Scared?” – the salesman spoke to make him even more nervous. Gi-hun reached with trembling fingers for the gun.

Picking the weapon up and feeling the sudden heaviness of it in his palm. Staring down at the machinery, designed to kill men. The salesman leaning back in his chair. Smiling with crossed arms. Enjoying the fear rushing through Gi-hun’s body. Gi-hun moved his hand to his head. Letting the cold tip touch his head. – “If you die, I’ll make her scream.” – the salesman spoke with a grin. – “Shut up!” – Gi-hun shouted loud. Having enough of his taunting.

The salesman’s eyes twinkled with delight. Harvesting the way he could easily manipulate people and get under their skin. Gi-hun closed his eyes, squinting shut as he pulled the trigger. Click. He released a loud breath, he had been holding. The gun quickly placed back down. – “Your turn.” – Gi-hun called out with a gesture. The salesman took the gun. Getting up from his seat. Leaning in over the table, making Gi-hun lean more back to keep his distance.

He held the gun against the side of his head. Laughing manically as he pulled the trigger. Click. Gi-hun’s cheeks trembled with fear. A nauseating feeling harbouring inside of him. The salesman came sitting back down. That man was a maniac. Gi-hun thought. Not even death seemed to scare him. Perhaps because he had nothing to lose?

“Gi-hun!” – you panted out, the door slamming with force against the wall. Looking up, you grabbed the railing. Running up the stairs to his level. Legs carrying you, heart beating rapidly to give you enough fuel to continue. Feeling your body getting worn out, yet you couldn’t give up now.

Not now while you feared the salesman had found him and did something horrible to him. You took big steps, missing a few steps to reach the next level faster. Arriving in the long narrow corridor, you start running. Running towards his apartments door. Needing to stop yourself in time or you would’ve ran right past it. Grabbing the door handle firm, you swung the door open. Barging in, not sure what you would find.

The door slammed hard against the wall as it made them both jump out of their skin. Gi-hun’s eyes widening as you had forced your way in. Coming to a stop to pant loud. The clicking of a gun, made you widen your eyes, hands automatically going up. – “You must be the sister.” – the man let out with a big smile.

Gi-hun turned his head in terror at the salesman. Not sure what he was about to do, but for the love of everything, he hoped he wouldn’t shoot you in front of him. – “We were just playing a game, why don’t you come joining us?” – the salesman spoke still pointing the gun at you.

He gestured with his other hand for you to come over. Gi-hun shaking his head with fear at you. Feeling as if you could only obey him, you did so. Coming closer to the table. Grabbing one of the chairs at the side, ready to pull it back. – “No.” – the salesman spoke, gun still up to you.

You flashed your brother a frightful glance. The salesman scraped his chair back over the floor. Revealing his lap. Patting his knee invitingly. – “You sit right here.” – he said. You shuddered out a breath, looking back at your brother with trembling knees. He slowly nodded for you to do as he says. Knowing this man was so unpredictable, he didn’t want to see you get shot in front of him. You went around the side, coming to sit down on his lap. The salesman exhaled satisfied. He admired your features. Curling up a smile whilst grabbing your chin.

Gi-hun moved forwards, ready to launch himself at the salesman. If it weren’t for the sudden gun pointed at him. Gi-hun sat back down, hatred clear in his eyes. The salesman tilted your chin upwards, leaning in to give your neck a good sniff. Wanting to know how good you smelled.

“Your turn.” – he said without looking away from you. Looking luringly at you. He placed the gun on the table, moving his other hand to your face. Letting it brush down your jawline. Gi-hun took the gun with a firm grip. The salesman curled up a smile, turning you to the front. One arm wrapped tight around your waist.

His other hand holding you by your chin. Forcing you to look at your brother. – “Go on, pull the trigger.” – he spoke to your brother. Gi-hun moved the gun up with a shuddering breath. – “Close your eyes, Y/n.” – he said, not wanting you to see it if the gun went off. You were trembling, eyes swelling up with tears. You squeezed your eyes shut with a loud sob.

“Open them!” – the salesman shouted loud behind you. It made you force them back open. A few tears finding a way down. – “I want you to watch. Watch how your pathetic brother will join the trash.” – he called out. – “Gi-hun…” – you cried out, sobbing loudly. – “It’s alright….” – he reassured you with a calm motion.

Shaking uncontrollably on his lap, you felt him give your hip a good squeeze. Somehow enjoying all of this. Finding it ravishing that he had such power over the two of you. Gi-hun closed his eyes, exhaling deep and pull the trigger. Click. He quickly put the gun back down with a loud exhale.

You fell forwards, crying loud at how close that could’ve been. Forehead resting against the table. Your loud sobs filling the room. The salesman pulled you back up against his chest. Taking the gun from the table. – “Your turn, Gaesaekki!” – your brother cursed out.

The salesman hummed out a chuckle. Moving some hair of yours out of the way. He tauntingly pointed the gun at you. Making you shudder out breaths with a loud yelp. – “No!” – Gi-hun shouted loud. – “This is between you and me.” – he made clear that he wasn’t allowed to shoot you. The salesman chuckled moving the gun away from you.

“We’ll play a different game then, love.” – he turned you back more to him, away from your brother. – “I get to do whatever I like with you and if your brother as so much moves, I shoot you.” – tilting his head to the side, to flash you a devilish smile. – “Like what?” – you asked nervously. – “Like this.” – the salesman began, grabbing you by the back of your hair.

Pulling on it so that your head got pulled back. Revealing more of your neck to him. He flashed his gaze at Gi-hun before pressing his lips deeply into your neck. Gi-hun’s jaw tensed, hands balding into fists on the table. You closed your eyes, tightening your muscles at his sudden touch. His lips tender on your skin. A rush flooding through you, one that you didn’t want.

“Alright that is enough!” – Gi-hun said, needing to restrain himself with much difficulty. – “Oh but that was just a preview.” – he answered. The salesman grabbed you firm by the back of your neck. Making you release a surprised gasp. He brought his face closer to you, making you squint your eyes shut.

“Gaesaekki!” – Gi-hun called out, slamming his fists on the table. It made the salesman move the gun up to your brother. – “Final warning.” – he warned that if he interfered now, he would shoot you in front of him. – “Don’t make me shoot your pretty sister, Gi-hun.” – he reminded him again. Gi-hun clenched his fists even harder. Glaring angrily at him for what he was about to do.

“She might enjoy it.” – he added just to toy with Gi-hun that bit more. He grabbed the back of your neck once more. Pulling you closer as you had squinted your eyes shut once more. The salesman breathed out a laugh admiring you for a moment before proceeding.

His lips pressed deep onto yours. Settling there for a moment till he parted your lips roughly with his. Forcing you to kiss him back. To follow his sudden rougher kiss. Pressing his chest deeper against yours as his lips trailed yours with indecency. All for your brother to watch. – “Enough!” – Gi-hun called out.

Blinking baffled at the salesman holding his finger up for him to wait. Not ready with devouring his sister with his kiss. After a few more moments, he pulled back out of breath. Licking his lips clearly to your brother. You looked shy down, afraid to look your brother in the eye. Not after this man had just kissed you so dangerously. The salesman moved the gun to his head.

You watched in horror as he shamelessly pulled the trigger. Click. Laughing hysterical as he shoved the gun over the table to your brother. Gi-hun took the gun, pointing it forwards. Making the salesman laugh amusingly. – “Do you really think you are such a good shooter?” – he let out, moving you more in front of him. His chin resting on your shoulder.

“You wouldn’t want to shoot your dear sister now, would you?” – he spoke. Gi-hun lowered the gun, knowing he couldn’t. He brought the gun to his head. – “Wait!” – the salesman let out, hand up. Gi-hun opened his eyes once more, confused. – “There are only two more possibilities. Either you die or me.” – he spoke. Gi-hun looked down at the gun, having not counted the rounds at all.

“I’ll like to favour the game with your sister before we continue.” – he announced. – “Like hell!” – Gi-hun called out, pointing the gun back at him. The salesman hid behind you, laughing loud. – “Want to proof just how good of a shooter you are?” – he taunted till your brother lowered the gun once more. You gasped loud when the salesman turned you back to him. – “Now I want you to kiss me.” – he demanded from you.

“What?” – you called out in a panic. – “I want you to kiss me Y/n.” – he repeated, holding your wrist firm. – “No!” – you let out. The salesman’s smile dropped, his hands finding a way to your neck. – “I can make you gasp for air so easily.” – he said giving your neck a slight pressure. – “Alright!” – you called out, pushing his hands away. He smirked.

You exhaled deep, letting your hands slide up his chest to his neck. – “I’m sorry Gi-hun.” – you said before kissing him. You started kissing him as it pleasured him. Eyes briefly widening as he took over. Grabbing you firm by your cheek.

Kissing you rough with pants in your mouth. You wanted to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you. Kissing you with every might. Gi-hun slammed his fists hard on the table, startling you. The kiss got broken off as Gi-hun quickly held the gun against his head. Staring murderously at the salesman. Click.

He exhaled relieved, sliding the gun over the table back to him. The salesman chuckled, knowing the last bullet was for him. He knocked you off his lap. Falling backwards on the ground. He then grabbed the gun, putting it in his mouth. Tasting the metal hard. His gaze fiercely on your brother. Bang.

-------------------------------------------

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[kitasgloves]

Hiiiii! Just read your classmate Fyodor, and I'm telling you, it made me fall from heaven then up again for another skydiving experience, loved it. I'm just wondering what would happen if we figured him out and confronted him. If we offered him a deal, "if you make us pass, we can still share a bed and..." you know, would he agree, or is us failing a part of the fun for him???

omg thank you sm anon! i'm ready to deliverrrr <3

— ♬ NSFW

part 1

Now, proposing a deal to FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY could seem like a gamble considering what kind of person he is. He does enjoy seeing you fail after he got what he wanted from you. It does seem that he's merely using you for his selfish desire or gain, and the idea of him discarding you afterward is possible. But a deal where he and you can mutually benefit sounds appealing. To think that the sex he initially thinks is a one-sided benefit is also a benefit for you, captures his interest.

The genius didn't anticipate you to find out sooner he was taking advantage of you and tricking you. He didn't expect you to sternly approach him after class. He was mildly impressed by you expressing your distaste of his trickery, though you weren't completely mad at him. That's when you proposed the deal that if Fyodor helps you pass the class, you'll let him have sex with you. Of course, he was reluctant and cautious at first, he's used to taking deals where only he would benefit. But ultimately, he thinks the deal will be harmless and that he has the upper hand.

Fyodor will tutor you at the same café previously, but this time teach you the correct information. And afterward, you two would fuck either in your dorm or at his house. Since the exams are coming up and students are beginning to prepare, those tutoring sessions become frequent. You two didn't often study at the café.

Sometimes it would be in the university library, you would secretly suck Fyodor's dick in the inconspicuous corner of the library near those boring history books. There are moments when you two would be at the park, and then it would end up with you pressed against one of the trees, away from prying eyes, with your skirt flipped up and your panties down while Fyodor pounded into you. And there's that café that became you and his favorite, you two would be quiet and seemingly deep in study, but it's either you're jacking Fyodor off or he's fingering your pussy from under the table.

However, the most frequent spot would be your dorm room or his house. Your roommates aren't constantly there, so there are chances to sneak Fyodor in for a tutor and a quick fuck. But you genuinely looked forward to studying in Fyodor's house. The genius reeked of old money with how large and empty his home seemed. It had a dark undertone that gave the impression of an old Victorian household. Fyodor would invite you in with nobody home but there are instances where you would briefly encounter a few members of his family.

His mother saw you the most, it's evident that Fyodor got his stunning looks from her. She was a kind and religious woman. She welcomed you in as if she had known you for years, even insisted that you eat dinner after being 'tutored' by Fyodor. Unfortunately, Fyodor would always insist with a tight smile that you weren't hungry, which made you pout. On a rare occasion, you'd see his father. Fyodor got his mysterious and intelligent aura from him. You can't help but feel like that man knew you and his son were doing more than just studying. Something about his knowing gaze as he smoked a cigar made you internally squirm.

Fyodor's room had a minimalist and old look to it. There were multiple bookshelves with books but there was a touch of modernity with a single computer for browsing the internet. Fyodor would tutor you on his study desk, which was often littered with papers either written in Russian or shorthand. The only reason you took the tutoring seriously was the fact that you'll get fucked by Fyodor in the end as payment and secretly a reward. But you're beginning to understand and appreciate everything the genius was teaching you.

Fyodor felt conflicted at the beginning. Something about you casting him a beaming smile and showing him the results on your test paper, which was significantly higher, made his stomach stir. Fyodor did think of maliciously tricking you again and taught you topics that he knew weren't going to appear on the exam. However, you seemed to learn quickly and managed to pass despite being tutored incorrectly.

He was annoyed and was rougher when you two were fucking after those tutoring sessions. He didn't like how you seemed to benefit more than him. He'd express his frustration by delaying your orgasm to the point that you would sob nonstop. Sometimes, Fyodor would punish you for not answering his questions right by pressing a vibrator against your clit while having you tied against the chair, he revels in seeing you squirm and struggle as he slowly increased the vibrator's setting to max. Sometimes, he'd let you cockwarm him. You'd be situated in his lap with his cock deep in you while you wrote your notes. He'd smirk and thrust his hips up making you yelp and mess up your handwriting. You'd always give him that adorable glare before restarting in a new page again only for him to do it again.

You and Fyodor agreed that the duration of this deal will only last until the end of the semester. As disappointed as you seem, you know that you shouldn't build a studying habit of being dicked down by the genius. After all, you just need a little help passing this one class.

It was the final exam the next day, and you busted your ass (or rather got fucked in your ass) studying. With a miraculous surprise, you ended up getting the highest score in the entire class. And what made it seem more unbelievable was that you managed to get a higher score than Fyodor. Naturally, this became the talk of your peers. Who is this ordinary girl who surpassed the mysterious genius Fyodor Dostoevsky? You were showered with praise and attention by your classmates and professor, which made you blush. You did feel genuinely proud to pass that exam with flying colors.

When you turned to Fyodor, eager to rub your test paper all over his face, you froze at the sight of him seething at you in his seat. He was gripping his pen, and his balled fist rested on top of his test paper. You gulped. Why was he mad? Was it because you surpassed him? That's ridiculous! But Fyodor seemed to care about results and being bested by someone as lowly as you.

You tested the waters by approaching him and congratulating him for also passing the test. He coldly ignored you, grabbed his things, and left the classroom. You were dumbfounded. You figured he'd get over it. Plus, the deal you and he had expired today. You won't be needing him for tutoring anymore and he can go fuck with someone else. Though the last thought pained you, it was best to not get hung on about it.

Fyodor behaved like he never knew you. There were a few classes he shared with you, but he acted like you didn't exist. His parents wondered about you and why you stopped visiting, he'll always give some sort of convincing excuse to shut them up. He didn't like how they were seemingly fond of you. He couldn't focus when he was studying in his room. Fyodor got too used to you being seated beside him, or on top of him, warming his cock, or with your hand jerking him off.

He gritted his teeth and dropped his book as he hastily pulled his pants down. Fyodor fisted his cock with the thought of you bouncing on it. He has put you in so many positions. On your knees, on your back, on all fours, against the wall, on top of him. Fuck, his hand goes faster. He has never jerked off so aggressively before. He thought about your smile, the sound of your laugh, the smell of your perfume, and the lingering touch of you tracing his jaw after he had exhausted you.

"Fyodor..."

His name sounded so natural coming from your mouth. You called for him and moaned his name countless times that it repeated in his head like a broken record. Fyodor has an earth-shattering orgasm with his hips bucking up wildly as spurts of cum stain his abdomen and hands. He comes down from his high and realizes how much of a mess he has become. He scowls as he goes to clean himself up.

You did try your hardest to not seem affected by Fyodor's avoidance. You knew he didn't view you as a friend or much less a lover. He probably only saw you as a toy to play with or someone to relieve his stress with.

During one of your shared classes with Fyodor, you two ended up being paired for a project. Your heart fluttered with excitement as much as you wanted to deny it. But you wanted to be professional this time, completely discarding your history with the genius. The deadline for the project was due in two weeks and it needed joint effort.

After class, you took the initiative to approach him so you and he could discuss how you two would do the project. Fyodor surprisingly agrees with you. Initially, you suggested the café as a place to do the planning, but he rudely cut you off and changed the location to his house. Your heart skipped a beat.

Fyodor's parents seemed overjoyed at seeing you again after so long, you admit that you've missed them. You couldn't even mutter a greeting to them when Fyodor grabbed your wrist and led you up to his room. You were roughly shoved inside as he locked the door. Fyodor corners you to his bed and leans down to grab your jaw. You looked up at him with bewildered eyes before he smashed his lips against yours in an open-mouthed kiss.

The kiss was unusual. It was filled with urgency and had a hint of desperation. Fyodor has kissed you a few times when you two used to fuck, but it was always quick and lazy. But this one was fueled with passion. You try to pull away from him for air.

"Fyo—mmph! The pro-project—!"

Fyodor pulls away and frowns down at you. His pale face was unnaturally flushed.

"I don't give a damn about that stupid project"

"But we'll fail—"

"Заткнись!"

[Shut up!]

He yells at you making you freeze. Fyodor seemed breathless as he pressed his face against your neck before slowly pulling you into an awkward embrace.

"I'll...I'll take care of the project just...stay"

"Stay?"

"Stay here, with me"

You blinked at his reply. You reluctantly returned the embrace making his chest constrict. Fyodor didn't want to admit his growing attachment to you. He did feel pathetic but to think you might return the sentiment made the corners of his lips curl up into a smile.

damn this really got self-indulgent whoops

[harridansibyl]

Personal associations/interpretations of the dark/mystical houses (4th, 6th, 8th, 12th)

4th house

twisted tree roots, cultural practices, heirlooms, photo albums, inherited features, traditions, the mother, past lives, generational trauma, picture books, garden beds, childhood homes, ancestor altars, hand written recipe books, hearth, squeaky wooden floorboards, genealogy archives, caves, oak trees, baby wrap carriers, emotional security, cultural heritage, building foundations, photo albums, genetics, laundry lines, swing sets, property, mines, crops, sanctuaries, the chest and heart, home steads, fields, farms, root cellars, harvests, pots on stoves, brooms, backyards, agriculture, vines on trellises, handmade blankets, grandparents house, laundry baskets, attachment styles, singing lullabies, history, deep emotions, instincts, the unconscious, summer, waxing moon, vase of flowers, bath time, picking berries, celebrating holidays, chicken coops, older sisters, family gatherings, stone paths, forest walks, ancient structures/buildings, ancestral languages, cupboards, staying in

6th house

vitamins and supplements, morning routines, pharmacies, tasks and lists, doctors offices, health food stores, stomach medicine, hygiene practices, journals and planners, schedules, herbal teas, personal rituals, emergency kits, dog walks, lymphatic drainage, caregiving, donating blood, examinations and checkups, meditation, colour coordination, sticky notes, gastrointestinal problems, folded laundry, labels on everything, retirement homes, hand washing, braided hair, herb gardens, filing cabinets, face masks, kombucha, detailed diagrams, volunteer work, medicine cabinets, cleaning supplies, shelves, acts of service, skin care, organic linen, gauze and stitches, stress-induced illnesses, essential oil/herb baths, house plants, instructions, repetition, holistic medicine, giving advice, yoga studios, "gut feeling," bone broth

8th house

altars, divination, near death experiences, candle wax, feeling crushed by a heavy weight, grave dirt, red/dim lighting, funerals, double income, control, the underworld, cheques, insurance, heirlooms, ghost sightings, power imbalances, crime documentaries, ouroboros, bank accounts, grief and loss, shadow work, the womb, manipulation, scrying mirrors, Russian nesting dolls, keys, mortuaries, tests from the universe, pendulums, crime scene tape, the phoenix, projections, credit scores, animal bones on a forest floor, blood stained sheets, metaphysical shops, spiritual attacks, deep emotions, snakes, dead flowers, late autumn, wedding veils, envelopes, full moon, muddy boots, shadows at the corners of your vision, scarab beetles, inner processing, experiencing crisis, inherited possessions, natural disasters, sexual trauma, psychological studies, ancestral connections, cracked dolls, veil between realms, mental illnesses, deep connections, intimacy, reincarnation, torture devices, keys, whirlpools, the sound of sirens, unconscious fears, intense first impressions, pushing limits, feeling bound, scratches on walls, ten of swords

12th house

abandoned places, liminal spaces, long winters, shadowy figures, reoccurring dreams, repeated patterns, fog-filled forests, self analysation, inner worlds, cave systems, unfinished basements, hallucinations, solitary confinement, empty parking garages, spiral staircases, substance abuse, trapped in purgatory, hidden beneath the surface, maladaptive daydreaming, hospital hallways, confines of society, waning moon, moths, wandering aimlessly, disconnection from the world, psych wards, healing others, tired eyes or dark circles, chronic mental illness, suppression, addictions, hiding places, overnight shifts, unexplainable experiences, past life karma, exhaustion, cobwebs, others projections, catacombs, bird cages, premonitions in dreams, prescription bottles, self destructive patterns, late night walks, misty lakes, the feeling of walking out of the movie theater at night, identity crises, blurred faces, empty public transport, astral projection, comas, diary entries, dissociative episodes, shape shifting, generational trauma, observing people, mirrors, padded rooms, the afterlife, chain link fences, paradoxes, feeling misunderstood, repression or memory loss, hikikomori, the freeze response, disappearance, waiting rooms

[girlsoutlate]

thunking thoughts of nikto realising he can cope more effectively through your touch or being soothed by it idk i just need to post this bloody thing and stop obssessing over every detail

mention of mental issues of niktos, tension but not between nikto and reader, super duper brief light angst with resolution

it wasn't acceptable to let such a hostile creature in to your home and heart. niktos demeanour had changed over the last few days. you were both unaware of it until you flinched at his words one too many times. or how you shrank away at his bulking figure that stalked through the house. you did plan to ask him tomorrow, both of you were too exhuasted from demanding days at work to talk about it that evening. nikto had his.. odd ways of coping. yet he hadn't discovered the most effective thing: your touch.

nikto discovered this power over him completely by accident on one of his first nights staying with you.

at one point late in to the night you awoke to find his side of the bed empty, cold. abandoned long ago. the first time it happened you went back to sleep, thinking he went to the bathroom. however, when you woke again half an hour later and the bed was still empty you began to worry. as you stumbled in to your slippers you searched the chair next to the bed for one of niktos jumpers. it was embued with his scent: musk, tobacco and a faint smell of gunpowder that never left. with bleary eyes you treaded along the dark landing towards a dim light emanating downstairs. just as you were about to descend a loud thump splintered the still air of your house. you jumped out of your skin, heart thudding in your ears. was andrei okay?

creeping down the stairs your ears perked up at the sound of a voice. hoarse and and slightly breathy, like some wild animal being strangled. a wooden chair scraped across the tiled floor, echoing amongst the emptiness of the ground floor and up the stairs. avoiding the creaky step you finished descending the stairs. the light from kitchen cut out a sharp shape on the shadows of the hallway. as you stood shrouded in darkness your heard the gravelly growl of the voice you knew to be niktos. he was muttering to himself in russian, however he sounded so frustrated it was more like gibberish.

as you peeked in to the kitchen, slightly blinded by the light you saw a figure hunched over in a chair by the table. that strange strangled voice escaped again. another thump- it was his fist on the table. he shot up and started pacing around the kitchen, hands gesturing wildly. you could tell nikto was angry, voice getting more gruff each sentence. abruptly he stopped moving, muscles in his back showing through the thin tight material of his top. leaning on the kitchen counter with his back to you, he ran his calloused hands through his black hair. he kept his head down, the growl of a mutter growing harsher with each passing second. words flew out his mouth at an alarming pace getting louder and louder, knuckles turning white as he gripped the side. just before it seemed he was going to shout your cautious voice cut him off.

'nikto, are you okay?' you meekly asked. he span around, pale eyes wild. pinpoint irises locked on to your shivering form. he drank in the curve of your body, barely hidden by your sleep shorts and his jumper. the deep colour of your eyes emphasised by the weak light. his girl always looks so gorgeous. and then he noticed how your wrung your hands even though they were swallowed by the sleeves of his jumper. or the gentle furrow of your brow at his behaviour. some of your hair stuck up at odd angles from your tossing and turning at his absence during the night. he made you worry.

his heaving chest faltered and then deflated, eyes dropping to the floor in embarrassment. 'we are sorry we woke you dorogaya' he replied, voice hoarse from talking 'we were ah- talking'. a beat passed, you blinked at his response. to see a creature go from such a hostile to a guilty state was alarming to say the least. but you could still see he was on edge. his eyes flicked about the dim room while his thick fingers began to fidget with the hem of his threadbare shirt. just as his breathing quickened pace you steadied yourself and took a step forward. 'come' you commanded.

as nikto lumbered forwards his usual calm and calculated demeanour completely dissipated. the moment your lidded eyes landed upon him his mind was racing. were you angry with him for waking you up? did he scare you? how dare he wake you up make you worry. were you angry? nikto could deal with anger, it had always been a part of his life. but worry he couldn't. no one had worried over him, not like you did. to the forces he just needed to survive to the next mission, nothing but a valuable machine. to his friends, well, it can be questioned if they should have that title. but you were a glimmer of hope that he kept closely guarded to his rotten heart. your presence in his life transformed in to a steady glow, seeping under his mange-ridden skin. before he could realise, this light had ignited a blaze that consumed his heart and ravaged across his mangled skin. the heat was painful- to let someone so close to him. yet he writhed in ecstasy in your presence. the thought of that being dampened- potentially by him- made icy dread shoot up his spine.

he kept his gaze down, raking over your legs covered in goosebumps. his lips, raw from nibbling, parted in a shaky breath. just as another apology left his mouth, you threw your arms around him, burying your head in his solid chest. although your arms could barely reach around his burly form, he could feel the tightness of your embrace. niktos arms, corded equally with muscles and scars, hung by his sides. momentarily, he was taken aback. how could you still love this thing after witnessing its strange, violent ways? nikto didn't deserve a forgiving person like you. but he wasn't going to push away the one true good thing this godforsaken world had blessed him with.

niktos heart was pounding, blood rushing through his ears. one calloused hand rose up to the softness of your neck. his thumb brushed over your bobbing adams apple. gently, to not get carried away, he pressed harder just on the side of your neck. your steady pulse thrummed under his fingertips, warmth seeping from you to him. slowly but surely, nikto wrapped his arms around you. one brushed against your shoulder blades, while the other cradled your head closer to his chest. he buried his misshapen nose in to your hair deeply breathing in your scent. the warmth of your plush body washed over andrei. experimenting, his paw-like hand slid over the curve of your waist, stopping to squeeze the fat of your hip. you breathed out a short gasp. andrei's rough fingertips grazed against your stretchmarks, each raised ridge inching him closer to the realisation he was here with you. you were safe and he was with you, everything else could wait. the crackle of tension in the air had dissipated the second your melodic voice had cut through it. now, the cold kitchen lights didn't gleam unnaturally bright. he was enraptured in the faint glow of your skin.

the voices were still there, but far, far away. andrei was blanketed in your love, which grew stronger each time you ran your hand along the expanse of his back. "lets go back to bed, da?" he rasped. holding on to your hand, he followed you back to bed. stairs creaked under his bulky form as he padded after you in the dark. you climbed in to bed that had grown cold in both your absence, gesturing andrei to join. he wrapped his arms under your shirt, soft skin gliding against his scars. your legs tangled together, wanting to be as close as possible. burying his face in to the crook of your neck, he let the sounds of your heartbeat lull him to sleep. as your ran your nails through his overgrown buzzcut a grumble of content reverberated throughout the room. soon you both drifted off to sleep, never letting go throughout the night.

from that day andrei held on to you, for his own sake. how could you deny him that?

thankyou for reading, i hope you enjoyed it!! let me know if you want another installment of this and any ideas you might have. this has been lurking in my drafts since last week and i just need to get it out. my boyfriend has gone on a break with me so ive been pretty distracted this week, sorry its a little later and thanks for being patient :)))

[cntloup]

You wake up in an unfamiliar room angst, kidnapping, thoughts of miscarriage, mention of torture, blood

Simon bumps into you, a troubled woman whose boyfriend kicked her out after he found out she's pregnant

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

You wake up to the buzzing of a semi-broken light and a thick damp oily smell filling the rusty old room. 

You wince as you slowly move your neck, gradually gaining consciousness, feeling your ears ringing and a sharp stabbing pain in your head. 

You struggle to open your eyes, even in the dim light of the small room, your vision slightly blurry from what seems to be sweat, tears and blood from a hard blow to your head. 

You groan in pain and slightly jolt in your seat as you notice you’re tied up in an unfamiliar room.

Vague disturbing images prance around your mind as your eyes land on the various tools on a small table beside you and you shake your head to get rid of them but to no avail.

Then they slowly come together like the pieces of a puzzle and you remember. You remember all of it. The agonizing torture. And several blows to your belly. Oh god! 

You dip your head to check your swollen belly, only to see the pool of blood beneath you.

You feel a surge of panic rising from deep within you and start to feel light-headed, from the loss of blood, or the thought of losing your child, you honestly don't know.

And you don't know how many days have passed. Are they even looking for you? Will he save you?

There are whispers outside the room, some foreign language, Russian probably by the sound of it and you can barely make out any words, but there's one word you fully understand... 'Ghost'.

At the base, there's a thick tension in the atmosphere. After Simon found the blood and no sign of you in the house, they started working on finding the possible kidnappers.

Simon is pacing the halls as they try to track down your captors and he's absolutely livid at whoever dared lift a finger on you, anxiety bubbling up inside him, gnawing at him to the point of being utterly unbearable.

You lower your head and shut your eyes again, acting as if you’re still unconscious after you hear footsteps approaching and the clicking of keys. 

They put a sack over your head and carry you to the car and drive to an unknown secluded area so a doctor can see you as you struggle to keep yourself from sobbing and thrashing around to free yourself.

Simon makes his way to Price's office with heavy footsteps and slams his fist on his desk, snarling furiously "We both know who it is. If you don't order the raid now, I swear-" "We must act fast. Laswell called with the location of the warehouse they're headed to." Price cuts him off.

They place you on a bed while your eyes are covered and you don’t notice much else as a wet rag covers your nose and mouth.

There's only the faint sound of gunshots in the distance and muffled shouts and punches. And you can sense the ground quaking by what seems like the pounding of footsteps and you feel the rag being removed followed by a loud thud and a pair of strong arms lifting you as you drift unconscious.